#also the angel dust comparisons over the past two months????

[doerrferr]

it’s been four or five years, y’all ready for the latest hyperfixation drop?

#yeah it’s hasbin hotel #hasbin hotel #i gave in #also the angel dust comparisons over the past two months???? #complimented and concerned #angel dust #alastor #hazbin hotel husk #yes ive planned several drag numbers #autism brainrot #autism activated #hazbin lucifer #i have no space in my brain to add to the collection #but here we are #hazbin charlie

[banananutsmuthie]

32 Flavors

Idol(s): Minju [IZ*ONE]

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

A/N: Just a little quickie for Minju's birthday. Just a bunch of ice cream euphemisms. A little background for those who don't have a Baskin-Robbins in their country: it's an ice cream chain known for its "31 flavors" slogan, with the idea that a customer could have a different flavor every day of the month.

*bing bong*

The sweet smell of 31 flavors packed an overwhelming punch even before opening the door. Mint chocolate chip, pink bubblegum, and cookies ‘n cream all permeated through the store in a combination of strong sugary goodness. Yet, it all paled in comparison to the sweetness of the girl behind the counter.

Her eyes looked up from her phone to greet you with a warm smile. She was as beautiful as the day you first met her.

“Welcome to Baskin-Rob—oh, hey babe! What are you doing here?”

“Well, I figured I’d pick up my little Minju angel after she finishes her shift. Plus, it’d give me a chance to see you at work.”

There wasn’t anyone else in the shop. Based on her bored-to-death slouch when you first walked in, it seemed like there may not have been anyone in here for a while. Understandable, especially in the middle of winter and so close to closing.

She reached over to give a kiss across the counter. Minju’s chilled lips left a subtle aftertaste of chocolate, no doubt a sign of Minju stealing free samples of her favorite ice cream flavor on the company’s dime.

“I’m still on the clock for the next 20 minutes. Do you want to sample some of our new flavors?”

“Sure, why not?”

Ever the professional, Minju returned to her salesperson voice, trying hard to sell you on the ice cream she was desperate to sell. She grabbed one of the tiny pink spoons from the container on top of the counter and slid the freezer door open, digging into a barrel filled with yellow ice cream sprinkled with walnuts.

“This one just came in yesterday, it’s banana nut bread. If you like it, we can also mix in some milk and blend it into a banana nut smoothie.”

The walnut crunched between your teeth, pulverizing into a fine dust that paired well with the explosion of banana in your mouth.

“Banana nut smoothie? Sounds interesting, maybe next time. What else do you have, Minmin?”

“Try this one. It’s my favorite. It’s like sex in my mouth. If it were a person, I’d let it do me,” she said, handing you another pink spoon overloaded with sugar.

Pieces of moist chocolate cake squished between whipped cream and subtly sour cherries. It wasn’t hard to see why Minju loved it.

“Why does the nameplate for this flavor just say, ‘Fill in for later’?” you asked.

“Because customers don’t know how to properly pronounce ‘Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte’, so we’re still waiting on Corporate to instruct us on a name. Do you like it?”

“I do, but what else do you have? Got anything that will take me out of this world?”

Her eyes darted past the glass door entrance. There was nothing but an empty parking lot smothered in snow. Minju’s gaze slowly found its way back to yours with devious eyebrows clearly filled with wild machinations.

“Well, I don’t think any of our current 31 flavors will satisfy you, but I do have a special flavor just for you. You’ll need to come behind the counter if you want a sample.”

With haste, you hopped over the counter with curiosity. What could be so special that Minju couldn’t hand over in another tiny pink spoon across the counter? Questions were answered when she turned around toward you, back facing the store entrance and butt leaning against the cold metal ledge of the freezer.

“We’re running a special, only valid today,” Minju said.

“Well, I’d love to hear the special.”

Minju pulled off her blue apron. Then her pink Baskin-Robbins polo. All that remained was her black lace bra, but even that fell to the ground.

“Well, the Flavor of the Day is called ‘Minju’,” she said as she lightly fondled her breasts. “It’s two scoops of vanilla topped with pink gumdrops.”

Minju grabbed at your hands, redirecting them onto her perfectly delectable mounds. It was just the right amount of firm. Fingers came together and pinched at her yummy pink gumdrops, standing tall atop each scoop. Minju cooed in delight.

“Go on, have a sample,” Minju suggested.

Minju’s samples up until now were just too small, not enough to fully appreciate the flavors blasting about in your mouth. But this—two gratuitous scoops of Minju’s supple breasts—was more to your liking. You dived in, lips slightly open and tongue grazing her chest.

There was only one correct way to eat ice cream. Too much at once and you’d get a brain freeze. Linger too long and it’d melt past the point of satisfaction. You started to lick at her pink gumdrop with just the right amount of pressure, taking her all in and eliciting a strong response from Minju. Her back straightened against the freezer’s glass door as she let out a drawn out moan.

“That’s it, take all of it. It’s all yours,” she said as you continued to lick at her perky nipples, massaging the velvety goodness with your tongue and slowly making your way outward. With still another scoop barely touched, you slid your tongue across the schism between her mounds, mirroring the same motions on the other side of the vanilla-flavored valley.

You could’ve spent all day melting into Minju’s chest like ice cream on a summer day. But even a sugar rush can be too much sometimes. She nudged you off her chest satisfied, both of you admiring her breasts that were now glistening in a light layer of saliva.

“In addition to the two scoops of ‘Minju’, you also get this,” she said.

Minju slowly unbuttoned the khaki shorts that hugged at her delicious thighs. It slid down with ease, revealing Minju’s inviting pussy that hadn’t been properly pleasured since she started her shift. Minju hopped onto the metal ledge of the freezer and split her long legs open, grasping onto the counter to keep her balance.

“It’s a banana split: I split my legs wide open and you put your banana in me. You can even sprinkle some nuts in me, too,” she said without an ounce of sarcasm in her tone. It was almost hard not to laugh at how serious she was with her puns.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do I need to spell it out for you? Come over here and fuck me,” Minju demanded.

Your pants and shirt joined Minju’s shorts on the ground. You moved forward with your already-erect cock in hand, aligning your banana with her split. Minju was so tight when you pushed into her, and yet she was so easy to slide into, a product of Minju’s familiarity of being filled up by your cock on a nightly basis.

“Split me open, babe. Fuck me so hard that I can’t walk properly and I’ll have to call in sick for the rest of the week,” Minju begged. There wasn’t a need to start slow. Not when Minju wanted it rough. You grabbed onto her wide hips and began to fuck her like she asked.

Cherries Jubilee. Her pussy was Cherries Jubilee, or at least it used to be, anyway. You had taken Minju’s cherry a long time ago, but the jubilee of doing it over and over again like the first time still remained. She moved on to more complex, adventurous flavors the longer the relationship went on. With Minju buck naked in a Baskin-Robbins, it was clear she was more of a Rocky Road kind of girl now: she loved it rough and scratchy with a heaping helping of nuts and gooey white.

“God, you feel so good, babe.”

Minju’s bottom lip quivered from the combination of the rough sex and the cold freezer pressing against her back. With every thrust into Minju’s tight pussy, the heavy appliance she anchored herself to screeched against the tile underneath. The force of each shove slowly pushed her further into the dining area.

She managed to get out another word even through the rough, rhythmic ramming. “You know there’s ice cream in a banana split right?”

Right, the ice cream. It was a not-so-subtle hint that Minju still wanted to be pleasured on her chest. You reached out and grabbed onto them, pinching at her still-perfect gumdrops.

“Yes, take it. Everything, it’s all yours: ice cream, bana—fuck!”

Minju couldn’t even complete her sentence before cumming. Her pussy tightened around you even more, pulsating against your shaft as her warm juices gushed out. Minju spasmed uncontrollably, leaning against the glass display and letting her orgasm take her through shut eyelids. You continued fucking her through her orgasm, looking to sprinkle some of your own whipped cream on top of the Minju sundae. She finally opened her eyes when she came down from the cotton candy bliss.

“Are you close yet, babe? I have to close up shop soon,” she said.

If there was one thing aside from ice cream that Baskin-Robbins was known for, it was their ice cream cake. Minju must’ve been tired holding herself up against the freezer, and so when you saw Baskin-Robbins’ ice cream cakes displayed in the upright freezer across the store at that moment, an idea popped up into your head that would’ve solved both your needs.

“I want some Minju cake.”

“Whatever you want, babe. Fuck me however you want, and don’t even worry about the mess, I’ll clean it up.”

You helped her off the metal ledge and turned her around. Her tight ass cheeks beckoned. After enjoying her ice cream and banana split, ending the sugar high by glazing that cake with icing was icing on the cake, a poetic tautology.

You grabbed at her hips to pull her close then pushed on her lower back until the side of her face pressed against the glass freezer. Without giving her a warning to prepare, you slid all the way inside her. A surprised Minju winced at first but let out a moan louder than anything else that would’ve been heard inside the ice cream parlor; if there was a fire, Minju’s screams would’ve doused the sounds of the alarm.

“God, babe, just fuck me! Do it and fill me up!”

Your hips went into auto-pilot, thrusting back and forth against Minju’s ass while your hands slowly crept up onto her mounds of ice cream that were still slightly wet from earlier. Even her perfect pink gumdrop nipples were still erect and ready for the taking.

No man should have to choose between cake and ice cream, and so it was nice to be able to take in Minju’s tempting scoops and her delectable cake at the same time. Whoever said, “You can’t have your (ice cream) cake and eat it too” was definitely wrong.

“I bet you wanna just fill my cake with icing, don’t you babe? Come on, I know you’re close. Fill me up with that pralines ‘n cream.”

Minju swayed back and forth trying to coax you along, slamming into your cock with each thrusting motion. Her hands grabbed onto the top of the counter, readying herself for the inevitable icing. Her body radiated heat in the moment, fogging up the glass pinned below her. Even on a freezing winter day in an ice cream shop, Minju was a sweaty mess.

“God, Minmin, here it comes!”

“That’s it, babe, I want all of it in me!”

One final thrust and Minju’s dream of pralines ‘n cream started to come to fruition as you nutted in her, filling her with the warm, gooey icing that completed her cake. You pulled out slowly, watching as your cum oozed out of her. It dripped down her inner thigh, running parallel with the stream of her own fluids from the banana split earlier.

Minju hopped onto the metal ledge once more. Her fingers swirled around in the pool of icing that was starting to form underneath her. It dripped off past the ledge, dropping down to the floor in one long continuous string.

“So what did you think, babe? Did you like our Flavor of the Day? Did it take you out of this world?”

“I could have that every day of the month.”

“Well, I guess you should start picking me up more often, then we can—”

Ahem.

Both of you turned toward the dining area. In front of the counter, a man stood weary from the cold and ready to order. As he took off his puffer jacket, he revealed the black polo shirt underneath, embroidered with the words “Idol Club” on the left side. On the opposite side of his chest, his nametag read “Joon”, and in a smaller font underneath: “Professional Sanitation Engineer”. What a lousy way to make his job sound more dignified than it actually was. Imagine being the poor fool who had to clean up the rooms after rich clients had their way with their idol playthings. What a fucking loser.

Minju hopped off the freezer. She clutched onto her apron and hastily pressed it against her naked frame, just enough to cover her lapped-up breasts. Her warm juices soaked through the polyester and created a dark blue stain on her uniform.

“What do you want, fucker?” Minju asked. She was understandably in a terrible mood, what with a customer coming into the shop one minute before closing in the middle of winter. No one in their right mind would crave ice cream in this temperature. Except for this fuckface. It didn’t help that Minju broke enough health codes and sanitation regulations to shut the store down, either.

Joon was willing to look past all that. He looked over at you, still naked with the exception of a waffle bowl that was now covering your lewdness. It was the only thing you could think of grabbing in the sudden interruption. Then, he pointed at you with a smile.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” he said.

You tossed the waffle bowl that had been blessed with your cock at his smug face.

“Get lost, creep!”

A/N: Ending inspired by my answer to this ask

#kpop smut #izone smut #minju smut #reader insert #male reader

[rokutouxei]

touching you i catch midnight

chapter 1 of 2: as moon fires set in my throat

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theodorus van gogh / mc; vincent van gogh / mc | G... for now. | 1829

Confronted by newly-developing feelings between two of the most important people in his life, Theo has an equally important decision to make. Lucky for him, it's not that hard to do.

> [sequel to kneel at the altar, confess your sins.] / ao3 link in bio > fic and chapter titles come from audre lorde’s poem, recreation.

You had chosen him.

Over everyone else. He had pushed you away, called you names, made you cry, made you feel small–and yet at the end of it all, you had chosen him. Months later and Theo is still wrapping his head around that fact. How had you seen through him like that? Peeled every layer he’d wrapped around himself to hide the most vulnerable parts of him, only to hold his heart in your hands and say, I won’t let you be alone anymore– how you’d done that is still a mystery to him.

The only other person in the world who has the ability to see him the way you do is Vincent. He hadn’t thought he’d ever find another Vincent in this world to hold him when he’s falling apart. Yet here you are.

So when you and Vincent become easy friends, Theo smiles and believes it has always been something as inevitable as the rising of the sun. Angels make good company for each other, he supposes.

Until it was something else.

Theo trusts Vincent, with his entire heart and soul, with his life, the past one, this, and the next, if there even is any more. So while his guards go up (the same way a guard dog bristles at the presence of an enemy) when the other residents of the mansion are around you, he’s quiet and settled when Vincent is with you. He has no fears or qualms because in his heart, he and Vincent are irrevocably tied; his older brother is an extension of himself.

(A better, brighter extension of himself, but that’s for later.)

When you don’t accompany Theo to work, you go with Vincent, going around town looking for something nice to paint, or sometimes even joining him for longer trips, farther out where the view is different, bringing home stories for Theo to come home to.

One night, Theo arrives late after a long dinner meeting to hear laughter coming from Vincent’s studio-room. A smile gracing his face, Theo knocks and enters the room to see you and Vincent sitting on the couch, easel across the both of you, a streak of paint on your cheek, a flower in your hair.

Theo’s heart squeezes at your smile. You so easily make him weak.

You notice him first, your face brightening at the sight of him, calling out his name–“ Theo!”, his heart is light–and you nearly sprint off the sofa to embrace him. He gives you a little twirl in the air as you begin to talk about the day, going out to the flower fields with Vincent, how he’d called you back to model the flower in your hair so he could paint it with closer detail. The sound of your voice lulls Theo to calm, until–

Until he turns to Vincent.

Who is looking up at his younger brother with guilt in his face, one that he won’t know he’s wearing. The pink dusting his cheeks. His fists are curled on his lap.

It’s like the light turns on in Theo’s mind.

Theo curls his hand around your waist in a near instinctual (territorial) embrace, and while you sigh at the comforting squeeze, your lover pretends he doesn’t see that his brother’s face darkens ever so subtly.

The first piece falls onto his lap.

-

(he doesn’t know it yet, but when the pieces come together, it’ll feel the same way a lived-in house does. in the little apartment in his mind, your little collection of trinkets in a shelf down the hall, vincent’s paintings hanging from the wall, theo’s books. it’ll feel the same way the first rays of the sun feel in the morning, a gentle warmth rising him from sleep, to a delight he’d long kept his eyes closed to. it��ll feel like he’d always belonged.

he doesn’t know it yet, but soon he will.)

-

Theo spends most of his time observing.

Work has trained his senses to perfection. Once he puts his mind onto it, no detail is missed. It’s great for dealing with clients, makes transactions easier, makes things faster to start, deal with, and wrap up.

It makes watching his lover and Vincent slowly dance around each other much easier to watch from the sidelines.

Watches his brother’s face shift and soften whenever you’re around him, in ways he’s never seen before. How his brother’s smiles are different, bigger, all teeth and scrunched eyes. The sound of his brother’s sugar-sweet laughter. This is all Theo’s ever asked for–his brother’s happiness, his brother’s success–and watching you from the balcony overlooking the garden, Vincent’s gaze on your face like longing for something that isn’t his… Theo realizes maybe things haven’t changed since they were kids.

(That Vincent will always put Theo first in everything.

That Theo will give his brother all that Vincent asks him for.)

And while there’s no denying the sour thing that sits under Theo’s tongue as he’s taking this all in, there’s also a kind of hollow that begins to nip at him, the way a question feels in a mouth when it isn’t asked.

Instead, he watches.

Watches you when you go on dates with him and smile that same smile you gave him when you promised you would help carry the weight he had on his shoulders. Burns into his eyes the sight of you–very forgivingly–pouring a cup’s worth of syrup on his pancakes, much to the shock and horror of the cafe’s other patrons. Memorizes your every feature, your every little gesture, the way you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you’re shy, the way you lick your lips excitedly when food arrives, the way you squeeze his hand in yours when you walk home.

Theo is sure you love him, and that’s why it takes him a while to understand, the way your cheeks flush when Vincent compliments you, the way you can’t look him in the eye when he puts too much attention on you, the way you let him brush your cheek with his hands gently a moment longer than needed when he’s tucking a flower behind your ear. Theo wants to understand so that the sour feeling goes away, wants to make sense of why you reach out to his brother like you want to hold him in your arms and keep him safe forever–the same you do to him.

Why you look at Vincent like he’s something you can’t have.

(and Theo will give you all that you want if you ask it from him.)

The second piece falls onto his lap.

-

he doesn’t know it yet, but when the pieces come together, it’s like the first time one goes out to the seaside after hiding from the breeze after a long winter. it’s packing away thick coats and heavy blankets in exchange for open windows and bright rays of the sun cutting through the fog. it’s seeing the horizon unravel in front of him, the waves crashing against the shore, the sand warm in between his toes. it’s seeing the infinite possibilities. it’s a sailor opening his arms to the unknown of the wide ocean, knowing the sun and the moon love him enough to bring him soon to gentler shores, if he trusts the direction of the waves.

he doesn’t know it yet, but soon he will.

after all, theo trusts the direction of the waves.

-

He would be lying if he said he’d never had thoughts that one day you’d replace him for his brother.

Half of that statement, of course, is drawn from the deep well of darkness he carries with him in his heart. He can do his best, he can fight for his whole life, but at the end of the day, he is no one in comparison to his brother. He is and always will be only someone working on the sidelines, raising the curtain, focusing the lights; never really the one at the center stage, gaining the cheer and earning the applause of an enthusiastic audience.

To Theo, as long as he is able to partake in the light, that is enough.

To have to step aside to those that are greater than him isn’t an action that’s so hard to comprehend. It is no longer anything more than a dull pain.

So when he thinks of giving you the choice to pick his brother over him, he expects the shallow wash of numbness.

But he’s instead surprised… by how okay he is with it happening.

It takes Theo several nights to fully put together the whirling of thoughts in his mind. Pictures many variations of the same situation, of the same ending, over and over in his head. Next to him, you lay asleep on his bed, your kissmarked shoulder only peeking a little bit from where you’re tucked underneath the sheets.

He holds his hand out to the space in between the both of you.

A space he’s willing to share.

The two people he loves the most in the world loves each other as well–there’s nothing else but support to give, is there?

The third piece falls onto his lap.

The puzzle sits there, complete.

-

Then one night, sitting in the game room after Arthur calls him over, Theo has this unreadable expression, like he hadn’t expected to hear what he’d been told. His lover and his brother… well, to Arthur, the surprise is rather unsurprising. Arthur has the right mind to expect not Theo’s usual bursts of anger, words that cut like knives, but instead a slow crawl to a boil.

What Arthur couldn’t have expected is for Theo to exit the room with a smirk on his face.

-

He doesn’t know it yet, but the angry melody his heartbeat is singing in his ears when he arrives in front of his brother’s bedroom door on the night that will change his life forever–is not out of anger, or fear, or jealousy.

It’s of excitement.

The thrumming of a heart that’s anticipating what it’ll be like to give out all the love it can pour.

-

Theo hears the door open before you do, and he doesn’t have to look to know (he knows his brother too well): Vincent stands in the doorway, his face in the shadows, the silhouettes of his brother and his brother’s lover illuminated by moonlight. His hands curl into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself from just taking what’s been offered to him.

This is for you, Theo wants to say, to you, to his brother, take them, they’re yours. They’re ours.

Like a jigsaw puzzle, you need all the parts to really be complete.

But he has an insolent mouth, one that only knows to express his love with sharp teeth. (A love that you and Vincent have long known how to read.)

“Did you hear that, broer?”

(Here comes.)

----

next part: [ chapter 2 of 2: i love you flesh into blossom ] 

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #fic #touching you i catch midnight #between the sea and sky (series)

[ajokeformur-ray]

It comes in like the tide // Gen x Arthur // soft comfort.

Summary: Everything is just so wrong. Your medications aren’t working. You’re not sleeping right. There’s so much going on all at once and you feel like you’re being swept under the murky oceans of your mind by the large waves which wash over you as does sadness come in like the tide. Everything is wrong and you feel like a shell of yourself, but Arthur’s right there, dear heart, and he won’t ever let you go...

A/N: Written for @daincrediblegg​ who deserves so much love and so much support and encouragement, especially right now. Arthur and I are so so proud of you and we love you so much!💖💖💖 I hope that you like this, angel! If you don’t, please let me know and I’ll write you something else! I love you!!!!!

Word count: 1, 874 ~ 

This GIF is still such a fucking mood... Me too, my love. 

You slid your slightly bent key into the rusting lock of apartment 8J and you felt none of your usual giddiness. Even as the door cracked open and you took a step forward, ready to cross the threshold between your cruel and unrelenting reality and your dreams, which were all contained within one person who loved you so dearly, you could already hear the quick padding of socked feet on a threadbare and worn carpet which seemed so perfectly to personify the very way that you were feeling right now as Arthur rushed to greet you at the door. Always so eager was he to welcome you home, and the comparison between Arthur and the actual puppy which rushed to the door to greet you didn’t fail to cross your mind. It made you smile despite yourself even as you bent down to stroke the puppy which Arthur had gifted you with some months ago. Happy was it with your affections and it turned and ran back the way it had come, likely going to find its resting place now that its human had been attended to.

The emptiness which you felt, as well as your other swirling emotions, told you more clearly than anything ever had before that what you were experiencing was bigger than you were and, oh, how it hurt. You were left utterly breathless by the strength of your own emotions and you were crawling in your own skin, desperately looking for a way back inside yourself. Arthur would extend a hand towards you before you fully realised how much you needed him to bring you home, so well and so deeply did he love you, and somewhere deep within your soul did you know that you were safe now. Safe to simply be with the one man who could and would understand anything with his otherworldly intelligence.

“Yay, you’re home!” Arthur’s soft raspy voice was accompanied by arms which fluttered about your body, hands not touching but grazing you before finally did he find the courage to wrap his arms around you. You sunk into your love’s touch gladly, his grasp warm and but loose, too loose, and you snuggled into Arthur’s chest. You wanted more. Of everything. Of Arthur, of his touch... You just wanted more and pointedly did you push yourself into Arthur’s embrace. Arthur giggled as you seemed to want to climb inside his skin. It wasn’t a happy sound or even a noise of amusement. It was closed lipped. Confusion. You knew your Arthur and you were distantly aware of the fact that he was too afraid to ask you what you were doing, so afraid was he of rejection, so fearful was he that it was wrong to ask you any kind of clarifying question. Evidently did he have some bravery left within him, likely was it caused by the sight of your own suffering, so confident could Arthur be for his one and only person, for he then said, “Wh-what are you doing, Gen?”

“I’m... please just hold me, Arthur.” Your voice cracked when you asked for what you most wanted, stood were you on the doormat, and Arthur cooed softly. He understood, so knowing was he, and he pulled you into him with a firm grip which should have surprised you given how physically weak he seemed, but that was the operative word. Arthur was strong in every single way, a walking contradiction was he. You were much the same. For all that you had ever been through, for all that you had ever experienced, you were strong. Forged were you from the hottest fires, risen had you like a phoenix. Sometimes, during times like these, did you sink back into your ashes, but Arthur was always there with a gentle hand to dust you off. He had you, for now and for always, just as you had him.

“I’m here, angel,” Arthur murmured softly. His thin lips, cool to the touch, were pressed against your temple as with a tender kiss did he linger at your temple, as if the physical display of his undying love for you could seep into the pores of your skin and heal your troubles from the outside in. “What is it?” Quietly did Arthur question you, though he didn’t pry. He trusted you to tell him when you were ready, but never would you be. You were just so tired and you felt like a shell of the woman you knew yourself to be. You had to be careful with your answer. Arthur knew you like he was familiar with the backs of his bruised hands. If you lied or even slightly changed your wording as you spoke, then Arthur, intuitive and knowing as he was, would pick up on it. He would be offended if you told him anything but the truth, and so really did you see that there was no choice. 

It was time to tell Arthur.

“I’m in a bad time shell,” You shrugged with a weary smile on your face. Hidden were you from Arthur’s sight, but he knew you and he could see your expression as plain as day in his mind’s eye. “I’m not sleeping properly and these meds are just wrong for me. They’re making me miss my old antidepressants and I’m waiting to hear back from the doctor about maybe switching back. I don’t know, Artie. I’m not myself right now and I just miss you even though you’re right here.” Arthur had opened the floodgates and more of everything spilled past your lips. You unlocked your heart and dropped your guard as the ceramic mask which you wore every day slipped off your face and shattered at your feet into a thousand pieces. Arthur’s love was the glue which would put you back together, leaving nothing but gold in its wake. At some point, unknown to you, had you begun to cry, exhausted with your own tiredness and general ill state of being and Arthur cooed and cupped your face in his hands as the calloused pads of his thumbs wiped your tears away.

Arthur didn’t tell you that it would be okay. You knew that. Arthur didn’t tell you that the doctor would help you to find something which worked for you. You knew that. Arthur didn’t shush you or invalidate you. You didn’t need that. No. Arthur stayed beside you even as everything came out and he jumped head first into the murky waters of your psyche. He swum down, down, and his fingers wrapped around yours. He had you. Together, hand in hand, did you swim to the surface and you broke the waters, your body taking a deep and natural breath as Arthur tipped his head forward so that he could press his lips, now warmed by the heat of your body, to your forehead. “I’m right here, Gen, I promise. Not going anywhere.” The only thing Arthur did was to remind you that he was there with you, that he was there for you, and there was nowhere that he would  rather be. You had never left Arthur at his worst and Arthur would treat you in kind; so deeply and so richly were the two of you in love with each other.

Arthur pulled away from you completely except for one hand, the fingers of which were tightly interlocked with your own, and he led you over to the worn sofa. There was a spring digging somewhere into your back, but you were too focused on yourself, or your perceived lack of it, and on Arthur, to wholly notice the physical discomfort of this. Arthur’s entire body was turned towards you, his full attention did you have, and he let go of your hand so that once again could he cup your face in both of his. The palm which previously had been pressed against Arthur’s now felt cold, empty, and you smiled sadly. It felt the way that you did. Was everything a mirror this day? There was the sound of running pads, once more muted by the carpet, and then a familiar weight settled on your lap as your puppy decided that you were going to be its bed for the foreseeable future.

“Awh, that’s sweet,” Arthur cooed and he reached out a hand to run his fingers through the puppy’s golden fur.

In your life were there two sweet creatures who deserved the world and you felt your heart swell with love at the very sight. “Am I... am I valid, Artie?” The question broke past your lips even before you were aware that you had spoken, but Arthur was ready for anything. You were you and for that, always would he be ready to take on the world. You were his world and if Arthur had to defend you even from yourself, then that was what he would do. 

“You always are,” Arthur’s voice was soft, his tone kind and you once more felt tears come into your eyes at how tender he was with you. “We’ll figure it out, Gen. Won’t leave you for the world. You’re in there still - I can see you.” To emphasise his point did Arthur cup your face in his hands, his green eyes meeting your own gaze. “You’re not alone, darling.” Arthur’s vow, for indeed was that what it was, sunk into your ears and it caressed the surface of your brain gently, soothing you from the outside in. “I’m so proud of you, Gen. My brave Egg.”

A quiet gasp from you prompted a soothing shush from Arthur, and mindful of the puppy on your lap did you lean forward, forward, to rest your forehead against the sharp angles of Arthur’s collarbone. He wrapped his arms around you and you believed in that moment that it would be easier for him to let you go, though you also knew that he never would. Still did a storm rage on within you, but you had your Arthur and you had the knowledge of all which could be done to aid you in feeling better, and you knew that you would be okay, if for no other reason than the fact that Arthur would not allow anything else. You would get what you deserved, this he swore to himself, but if he had spoken that sentiment aloud would you have told him that you already had received that because you had him, just as he had you. You were both safe within yourselves due to the continued presence of the other, and no matter how ugly this storm was, no matter how long it went on for or how lost within yourself you became, Arthur would be right beside you through it all. You deserved the world and Arthur was going to give it to you every day for the rest of his life, for the rest of your shared lives together. You were a fighter, you always had been, and Arthur was in your corner. You were his one and only person who understood him, you were his best and most precious Egg, you were his Gen, and there was nothing you couldn’t make it through together. 

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #joker #joker imagine #joker 2019 #joker 2019 imagine

[neven-ebrez]

15x01, a look at the future through the past

Back home! I watched the episode last night and rewatched it just now. I’m sorry to say that I was baseline bored on most levels but the second time through things felt better (yay!) even if the bland factor was still there for me personally (I’m bored with most ghost stuff from SPN these days). Imo the characters basically served the plot of 15x01 instead of the other way around which is very Game of Thrones-y and 1000% not what I’m here for but I won’t talk about the details of that because I’m sure no one wants to hear that and I’m also sure things won’t stay that way long so I’ll talk about some other things instead. There are some things I can tell are a thing but I don’t know exactly what the shows means in depicting them, and others where I’m more confident in my interpretation so here we go.

I’m like 99% sure the demon in Jack is actually Chuck and that he’s basically trying to maintain his torture (I mean... the guy admitted to being a torturer ffs) of the Winchesters with the best viewing seat possible as it were (he even tells Dean point blank he’s a “fan”). For some reason only Dean and Cas got the focus for this (torture) tho and not Sam. With Dean it was the demon reminding him of how dark and brutal Dean can be himself (via his time with Alastair). Dean blows that off pretty quick and isn’t too visibly effected, commenting that it was a long time ago. With Cas the torture came in the demon’s possession of Jack himself, Cas saying bluntly that he can’t even look at Jack and that demonic possession is basically defilement. Cas is clearly more effected and Dean’s harsh “Jack is DEAD!” tonally recalled S13 in many ways. Also oddly the demon admits Dean is gorgeous but not the same is said of Cas, with the demon insulting him instead. Two interactions. Two wildly different responses. It’s the demon putting Dean and Cas at odds without any interaction needed from them themselves, though the latter comes in spades and is the only focused on “true” conflict of the episode, set against soft Sam/Dean exchanges.

The blend of Cas’ angelic nature along with his human nature was also heavily, heavily highlighted in the episode. It was probably the most highlighted thing in fact. Cas smiting and healing. Cas shooting a gun and throwing rocks. Cas tells Dean he wouldn’t starve to death in the crypt (which, on a side note, has huge Buffy vibes for me, along with Belphogor (sp?) calling the Hell rip or whatever the “Hellmouth”). Cas can see the demon’s demonic face easily despite episodes like 14x01 (also written by Dabb) where he can’t see a room full of them (I think I argued back then that Cas was willingfully trying to ignore and was annoyed with his angelic nature). Cas’ angelic side gets another highlight when Sam accidentally shoots Cas and he doesn’t get truly injured. This particular scene seemingly serves no other purpose other than to highlight Cas’ difference (as non-human) in general. Emotionally tho, Cas’ human side is on full display. He’s worried about the town’s people. He’s annoyed with both Sam and Dean for different reasons at different points. Cas bodily removes the demon from sharing the same space as him because the demon upsets him. Cas can not even LOOK at “Jack” but Dean (and Sam) can. As I said, it’s similar structurally to how S13 handled Dean dealing with Cas’ death in comparison to Sam moving on from it. It functions to show that for Cas his relationship with Jack is different from Sam and Dean’s, however otherwise similar in the fact that TFW all see Jack as their child, their family. It’s exactly like how Cas is different to Dean as compared to Sam.

Back onto demon “B” whatever tho. Interestingly, we never see the demon smoke into Jack. Then he just “”happens”” to know every spell needed to help the Winchesters but for Dean and Cas two things are required for sacrifice/gathering. In each, one component is dead-like and protecting (salt, goofer dust) and the other channels life/creation (a heart and angel blood). Each time there’s a duality in play. Curiously Sam is not involved in any of this with the demon for whatever reason, making the demon (within the season’s structure as presented so far) a primary component of Dean and Cas’ differences. They are tests of free will for them specifically in a way. What will each person “freely” give/obtain for the demon? To me, it just all screams this thing/demon is really just God fucking with them in every way he can but while maintaining some ally aligned position physically. It’s Chuck’s literal MO.

Also. The show is back to Dean blanketly treating Cas like shit. Which we know happens in waves constantly but as a Cas fan it’s still annoying to watch for the umpteenth fucking time. And they haven’t even pinpointed the *exact* reason here for all the snapping (yeah, pacing, I know). The audience has to do some connecting the dots here I feel. They have to have a certain understanding of how Dean needs Cas. I *think* the takeaway is that Dean uses Cas as an emotional punching bag when he’s actually mad at himself and that instead of getting so angry with himself these days that Dean’s decided yelling at Cas is a better/healthier way for him to deal with himself. Which is absolutely unfair and devastating to Cas, but it’s what Cas (unfortunately) has become to Dean. It’s like when he told Cas he was dead to him at the end of S14 because of Jack killing Mary. Dean’s really mad at he, himself, for ignoring the warning that was always there. Not really Cas. But Dean has yet to apologize and/or rectify this. This is the (ongoing) problem for Dean and Cas. Point blank.

At this point if I was Cas I’d just leave and not come back. He doesn’t deserve the way Dean constantly treats him. Dean doesn’t “need” Cas like this but he’s become comfortable using him like this. This is so jarring from the understanding Dean shows Cas in late S12. And from the grief arc he has in S13, followed by the relief he shows when Cas returns. Dean never learns how to properly “claim” Cas, however. Looks like this time instead of killing Cas the show (like in S8) is gonna have Cas choose to stay away (after 15x03?) I guess, prompting Dean to do some reflecting or whatever following this (What is Cas to me? Why do I actually need him? How should I treat him?). But honestly I’m not thinking of the reflecting right now. Or the “after” or whatever. I’m just thinking about how shitty Cas is being treated RIGHT NOW and it 1000% makes me wanna just drop the show and not watch anymore until it’s over. I’m just not interested in torturing myself for months watching this slowly drag out but apparently I’m so masochistic and love Cas so fucking much that I will. GODDAMMIT

Onto “pipes” I guess. This is where I point out that I don’t know what the show is going for here but I’ll throw around some ideas. Pipes had a lot to do with the episode. Sam thinks he hears water flowing in a pipe in the crypt and they think they can escape through the sewers. Wrong. Later, Sam tells the sheriff that a pipeline burst near the town. Lies. And lastly there’s a plumbing truck outside the home where the clown ghost slaughtered the birthday party (uh... where’s the bodies btw?). So everywhere we have the imagery of pipes bursting and needing to be fixed. Which, water has nothing to do with Hell, not really. I guess the Hell “rip” is kinda acting like a burst pipe?? Water is usually associated with angels/Cas/change tho. My best guess is that it’s repurposed Michael imagery since good ol’ Bel-whatever let us know Michael’s cage door is busted open and he’s just sitting there for now apparently. I’m not confident in my interpretation here at all though. All I can tell is that busted pipes as imagery (something likely associated with lying/wrong) for something is a thing.

In general I’m going to say 15x01 didn’t even feel like a Dabb episode to me. I honestly wouldn’t have guessed he wrote it. Since I didn’t care about the random people under attack (women running and scared and not tougher is always a hard sell for me personally) I found myself frequently saying “why aren’t they doing _______?” a lot during the episode. Ghosts needing to run? Why? I mean, I get the show wanted to show how the magical border worked but this could have been done in many other more effective ways utilizing tension more. It almost felt like the show didn’t know what to do with its S1 self and so visually everything ended up looking so very incredibly cheesy and not just in the way the colors are no longer desaturated. It literally looks like the show can’t go back into what it was. We saw this visually with a sign that cropped up in several shots as Sam and Cas tried to get the girl and her mom to safety. It was a cul de sac sign.

Here’s a video on why cul de sacs as a design became popular. In short, following the rise in popularity of the automobile neighborhoods are designed for safe car use, above all else. They don’t want outsiders passing through and they want things to be slower. When cars got popular streets were redesigned away from the traditional city “grid” (where accidents happened at intersections most commonly) with features that instead had safety in mind. I choose to interpret this as a visual comment on the show’s design. The Sam n Dean show is like a city grid, dangerous, while the Sam, Dean, Cas, Rowena, and Jack show offers more “safety”. That’s why we get it framed like this imo, between Sam and Cas. Things looked one way before Cas, and another after. Things have changed from the grid and they aren’t going back, for a variety of reasons.

Since the episode title recalls the movie Back to the Future I thought we’d have more of a visual/dialogue tie in tbh. I’ll try to talk about what we thematically did tho. BTTF is a movie about a boy overcoming his impulsiveness to be an alpha male who isn’t scared. This wasn’t a goal of the boy himself necessarily but it was an effect had upon him just the same by the story and his experiences. The movie bookends on this character development. In between the movie is about the disconnect of generations, how kids don’t see their parents in the way they see themselves and vice versa. It’s also about trying to set right familial relationships into proper categories. Marty’s mom, Lorene, accidentally falls in love with her own son instead of Marty’s father, George. Marty’s existence is then threatened and he must spend the movie trying to understand his parents and help them fall properly in love, thus saving and changing himself and them. We only get shades of these themes in the episode, like when the demon (in Jack’s body) calls Dean gorgeous and it makes him uncomfortable. Divorce (unhappy marriage) is also touched upon with the sleepover/makeover girls. In BTTF Lorene and George do not have a great marriage as George lacks confidence but Marty’s interactions with George in the past help change this in the future and their family is much better for it.

We are told in PR that Dean’s “conditioning” and him changing from that is a big part of what SPN is and has always been about. This is similar to how Marty must learn to properly deal with bullies (as he sees his father as weak and overcompensates to distinguish himself from him) and not letting them have power over you. Chuck is like Biff in this structural comparison. Biff is someone we watch become depowered over the course of the movie and I feel this is similar to what the show will likely do regarding Chuck. I could go further in depth here but these are the general thematic points this episode alone addresses. Only with Marty’s character development does he stand to have a happy life with his girlfriend, Jennifer. Back to the Future ends with another call to adventure and its script is widely regarded as “perfect” by many. Quite the structural comparison for SPN to be making. We’ll see. We’re currently stuck in the past for now. Onward, to the future...

#spn speculation #15x01 #zerbe discusses things #final themes #duality #alchemy #narrative structure #back to the future #pop culture references #destiel for ts #if you squint #cul de sac storytelling #the spiraling narrative of supernatural #spn criticism

[newmusicmonthly]

2019

Hello,

Missed me?

No longer a monthly mailer – just another end of year round up.

On reflection, perhaps I’ve played it a bit safe this year, but I didn’t feel there was as much great music out there as in previous years.

Yes, I too use Google, so I have listened to all the end of year Best Of lists online, and so those artists not included just didn’t resonate with me this year.

I maintain ‘bad guy’ off Billie Eilish’s record sounds like a Super Mario bonus level (probably in a spooky dungeon)… which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. And I love Lana, but I just didn’t think the latest record was all that. And the same was true of Angel Olsen, Nick Cave, Kanye, Hot Chip… but don’t get me started on Bon Iver: avant-garde “Kum ba yah” at best (sorry Rob).

But then that’s part of the joy of music, variety and differing opinions… so please share yours! What have I overlooked? What should be revisited? Where in the depths of streaming services is that killer track from 2019?

For now, here is my list of songs, somewhat crowbarred into the monthly format (as mentioned, this email was once called New Music Monthly Mailer with five tracks a month, and surely we need some level of constancy and accountability this year).

Enjoy, or not – but please do share your own choice picks.

Merry Christmas.

R x  

NEW MUSIC 2019

JANUARY

Sharon Van Etten - Seventeen Just go and watch her performance from Glastonbury: https://youtu.be/BM6jn891seU Seriously, from 2:45, just fucking brilliant.

J.S. Ondara - Saying Goodbye Lovely acoustic number and a great voice that evokes Tracy Chapman. 

Basekou Kouyate, Ngoni ba - Kanto kelena (feat. Habib Koite) Malian ngoni master returns to acoustic roots.

Delicate Steve - Selfie of a Man Synthy silly catchy instrumental pop-rock.

Steve Gunn - Vagabond Guitar troubadour telling stories of solitude with unostentatious guitar tones.

FEBRUARY

Mara Balls - Ikävä ikävää Driving Finnish Doom-lite.

Julie Jacklin - Body A narrative masterclass, sombre and brooding, but also simmering and pulsating.

Strand of Oaks - Weird Ways Big widescreen rock, which builds into a gorgeous swirl of sound, with Timothy on fine yet reflective form, backed by the band of My Morning Jacket.

Crows - Hang Me High Long awaited debut from Idles approved band, loud fuzz Mary Chain / Dom Keller vibes.

Kel Assouf - Fransa Desert blues, with all the best Tuareg styling, but added beefy production.

MARCH

Nick Waterhouse - Man Leaves Town Mr Waterhouse and band well in the pocket.

Dave - Streatham Heavy beats and piano lines soundtrack story of growing up in SW16. 

Karen O, Danger Mouse - Turn The Light Danger Mouse brings the gentle disco grooves underneath Karen’s swooning vocals.

Small Feet - The Lake Down tempo reverb and echoes float throughout this woozy directionless jam. 

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Tombes Oubliées BJM do what BJM do best... in French. 

APRIL

The Comet Is Coming - Summon The Fire How can you not move to this?!

W.H. Lung - Empty Room Great new band (c.f. mailer 2017!), and as I already included ‘Inspiration!’ this is my second favourite cut from a top album.

Josefin Öhrn + The Liberation - Feel The Sun Another great artist (championed back in 2016 I think you’ll find), spectral psych grooves.

Weyes Blood - Mirror Forever Great opening line, there’s a coldness but also strangely comforting.

Foxygen - News Now a lot people had fallen off the Foxygen wagon recently, including me, but this is catchy melody filled vibes, with a completely unexpected stonking T-Rex style groove that kicks in around the 3:30 minute mark

MAY

Lizzo – Juice Speaking of good vibes… I mean, again, just go watch the Glastonbury set: https://youtu.be/R9CTs1NsZRI.

Tyler, The Creator - EARFQUAKE Production values: A*, chances of not leaving… C-

The 100 Knights Orchestra - Soul Fugue Celebrating Daptone Records 100th RPM single, this special features every horn player the label has ever worked with, and it is glorious.

Death and Vanilla - A Flaw In The Iris Devendra Banhart vibes to begin, fazing in Mazzy Star style reverb and guitars.

Desert Sands - Are You There The best psychedelic space rock released… ever! 

JUNE

Rose City Band - Fog of Love Warm tones and laid back ambles, which has producer Ripley Johnson’s stamp all over it.

Madonnatron - Goodnight Little Empire Disco ditty extraordinaire.

The Black Keys - Lo/Hi Have you heard of ZZ Top? You have?

The Amazons - Doubt It Future rock heroes get dark.

Fat White Family, Parrot and Cocker Too - Feet - Parrot and Cocker Too Remix Gone for the remix version of this great track: what isn’t improved by added shakers and throbbing techno?

JULY

Michael Kiwanuka, Tom Misch - Money (with Tom Misch) The first of two Kiwanuka tracks in this list, but this was a standalone single, and has all the bubbly bass groove it was impossible not to include.

Drake, Rick Ross - Money In The Grave (Drake ft. Rock Ross) Speaking of money… bounce!

DOPE LEMON - Salt & Pepper Weird keys give way to J.J. Cale style guitar noodles, whilst Angus heaps on the druggy references adding to the meandering stoned atmosphere.

The Quiet Temple, Moon Duo - The Last Opium Den On Earth (Moon Duo Remix) Speaking of druggy… 12 minutes of acid psych jazz in the last opium den on earth.

Nev Cottee - Hello Stranger Cinematic and pastoral, but also searing

AUGUST

Palace - Running Wild Top class indie pop nugget with great simple guitar solo to end.

Kandodo 3 - Everything Green's Gone This definitely isn’t for everyone: think Nine Inch Nails soundtracks at their most impenetrable, if you can make it two thirds of the way through this 13 minute wig out, there are some great slide guitars.

Clairo – Bags Breakout bedroom pop with one of the hookiest melodies all year.

Mini Mansions - Works Every Time Behind the beat smooth grooves.

Death Hawks - Whisper Squelchy over produced 80s style pop bananas,

SEPTEMBER

Native Harrow - Can't Go On Like This Inevitable Laurel Canyon / Joni Mitchell comparisons on this retro analogue sound ballad.

Ty Segall - The Arms Ty does a rare acoustic number, and even throws in a rather tasteful mandolin line.

Pixx - Funsize Synth bleeps and beats disguise a Radiohead-esque creeping guitar line.

Sleater-Kinney - The Future Is Here Love the motorik dirge vibes here, underpin lovely vocal lines and melodies which remind us: the future is here, and we can’t go back.

Marika Hackman - i'm not where you are Great pop hooks and guitar lines.

OCTOBER

Dylan LeBlanc - Renegade I’m a big fan of LeBlanc and his retro stylings, and this track is super lilting 80s driving rock.

TOOL - Pneuma I struggled to get TOOL for a while, but this record and this track in particular is fucking phenomenal.

Lightning Dust - Devoted To Amber Webber and Joshua Wells’ solo project (previously of Black Mountain), conjure spectral dreamscapes.

Sturgill Simpson - Remember To Breathe Sturgill goes electronic rawk – and Tomoyasu Hotei wants his production back.

Michael Kiwanuka - Hero Here he is again, with the standout track from a truly brilliant album.

NOVEMBER

Kelsey Waldon - White Noise, White Lines Kentucky country groove rock.

WIVES - Waving Past Nirvana Churning fuzz rock underpins laconic loose vocals, cool.

Pumarosa - I See You Tense synth verses give way to soaring superb choruses.

Jaako Eine Kalevi - Dissolution Finnish synth pop architect doing a very good Matthew Dear impersonation. 

Warmduscher - Midnight Dipper “The offspring of a match made in hell between Fat White Family and Paranoid London” – full-on sleazy glam.

DECEMBER

Pond - Don't Look at the Sun (Or You'll Go Blind) – Live My favourite track the band perform live, now finally available on streaming.

Staff Benda Bilili - Jamais de la vie The famous Congolese street band return with tight uplifting grooves.

Khruangbin, Leon Bridges - Texas Sun Sit back, open a cold one, and enjoy (when summer comes back around).

Jimmy "Duck" Holmes - Catfish Blues Mississippi delta blues from the 72 year old Holmes, produced by Dan Auerbach.

Mikal Cronin - Show Me Long-time Ty Segall collaborator serves up some Tom Petty-esque soft rock.

#new music #best of 2019 #2019 music #psych rock #alternative music #rock music #best rock #top music #shoegaze #2019 #j.s. ondara #mikal cronin #leon bridges #fat white family #jimmy duck holmes #khruangbin #warmduscher #wives #kelsey waldon #staff benda bililli #sturgill simpson #michael kiwanuka #kiwanuka #pumarosa #jaako eine kalevi #delicate steve #sharon van etten #lizzo #native harrow #pixx

[snarkybluechristian]

Hazbin Hotel: Angel’s Reason

It was a dark evening in hell.  It usually was, but it was unusually so for the demon heading to the Happy Hotel.  

Everyone had laughed when they heard about this “experiment” on TV, even Cherri, but Angel Dust, he felt the spark of something he thought he had lost: hope.  But it wasn’t just normal hope, it was hope that connected him to memories, more specifically memories of the child he had lost forever.

Her name was Cassandra Maria di Lucchese.  She was the result of an experimental phase he was in with a good high school friend when he wanted to know whether he was bi or purely gay.  He realized he was gay, and she accepted it.  They left the relationship on good terms.  

Unknown to either of them, Cassie was conceived.  Her mother Maggie Walters was only 17.  He was 19. She wrote him a letter as soon as she found out four months later.  He wasn’t in love with her and she wasn’t in love with him.  Nevertheless, they decided to enter a common law marriage, so that Maggie wouldn’t bear the shame of being an unwed mother and the child would be supported at least from a distance with money from his family. They didn’t plan on even living together.  Angel had too much living to do.  

It was so scandalous.  His father was so angry.  Angel couldn’t suppress a smile at that memory.

That smile grew wider when he remembered the day Cassie was born.  

He was at the birth per Maggie’s request.  She didn’t want to be alone and it was his fault, so he thought he could at least support her even if he intended to only pay child support and visit every so often. She was his friend after all.  

Angel only planned on staying until the birth was over.  He would sign the birth certificate, pay the bills, and leave to drink himself to oblivion. That was the plan, but everything changed the moment he met his daughter.

Tears formed at the corner of his eyes in remembrance.  When he entered that room and looked into his baby’s eyes, his heart melted.  When Maggie let him hold her, he knew from that moment on that he would be wrapped around her finger.  He fell madly in love and knew that nothing would ever be the same for him.  

They named her Cassandra and called her Cassie for short.  When her mother left the hospital, Angel went home with her and helped her around the clock.  He forgot all his plans for most of the next several months.  He hardly left Cassie’s side and forgot about his substance addictions and other commitments for a while.  His family would have to come pick him up for work because they knew he wouldn’t leave his daughter without some persuasion.  

Most of the family couldn’t understand his level of devotion, not even the ones who were legitimately married.  Whenever he was away, Cassie was all he thought about.  

It was ironic.  He was a queer man whose heart had been stolen by a baby girl.  When he would finally let himself leave her side for a night on the town, his romantic flings and drinking buddies pointed out his hypocrisy and laughed in his face, but he didn’t care.

As she grew up, Angel remained very involved in her life despite his work and his flings and his addictions.  He came by so often that Maggie made him his own guest room.  He prided himself on being the Daddy that his father never was. As a result, he and Cassie were very close.

They bonded over their shared love of clothes and the arts, especially dancing and singing.  He took her to more than a few dance clubs where no child had any business being, but she didn’t mind and somehow managed to survive more than a few of his drunken nights out on the town.

He made sure she had the best of everything as only a father of the mob could do.  He set his “wife” and his baby up in a nice house in a nice neighborhood and had her sent to the best schools.  He tried not to spoil Cassie, but sometimes, he couldn’t help himself.  He just couldn’t resist seeing her smile.

Nevertheless, Cassie was a good kid, sometimes too good, and it only got worse as she got older.  Her mother grew more involved with the local Catholic Church and so did Cassie.  They both grew into very devout and very good people.  So good that they decided they weren’t comfortable living off the mob’s money anymore.  

Of course, Angel had problems with that and more problems when Maggie and Cassie decided to live honestly in a crappy apartment off their own hard-earned money.  

He and his daughter remained on good terms, mostly, but she started resenting him and what his family did. Cassie had strong moral convictions and a mind of her own.  Two things that got her and Angel into many arguments throughout her teenage years. As a result, Angel started spending more time away from her.

All those arguments were Angel’s biggest regrets.  He cursed his mind’s renewed ability to remember as he reflected on his last evening with her.

It was Halloween 1946. Angel parked his black 1946 dodge in front of one Little Italy’s biggest theaters to see Cassie.  He had been out of town for a month while he and his family took care of some business in Italy and was dying to see her.  

Cassie was 17 and had graduated high school the spring before.  Her dream was to be a Broadway star, so she joined this theater to work herself up to that goal.  

Unbeknownst to her, her Daddy had pulled some strings and made some threats to make that happen. There were many advantages to being a member of a crime family.

Angel remembered checking himself in the rearview mirror before heading inside.  His human appearance was jarring in comparison to how he looked now.  He had dark brown hair and light green eyes.  His skin was olive, and he wore a suit like what he wore in death, except for the darker colors of course.  

After making sure he looked fine, he strutted out of the car and into the theater.  It was empty out front in the lobby except for a lone janitor sweeping the floor.  He looked around for a second before the janitor yelled at him.

Without looking up at him, the janitor said curtly, “Hey, buddy!  If you ain’t here for an audition, could ya move it?  Some of us have work to do.”

Annoyed at his tone, Angel said, “Shut it, pal.  I’m the father of one of the dancers, and I wanna see my little girl.  Is that alright wit’ ya?”

“I suppose,” the janitor said still without even looking for him.  “What’s her name?”

Angel’s lips curled into a smug smile and said, “Cassandra di Lucchese.  I’m her Daddy, Angelo di Lucchese.”

The janitor finally stopped his work to look up at him and stared at him in pure unadulterated terror. His attitude was gone, and he began to shake.

Angel adored this terror that came whenever he spoke his family name.  He adored the prestige and the notoriety that gave him and his family his power.  He also adored the look on his face.  It was priceless.

“Not so sassy now, are we, pal?” Angel gloated as he walked over to the now cowering janitor.

“I-I’m sorry,” the janitor said.  “I-I didn’t know…P-Please…I’ll give you anything…”

“Good, well, lucky for you, I just want to know one thing,” Angel said standing over him and intimidating him with his presence.  “Do you know where my daughter is?”

“Uh, no…S-Sorry.  I-I know every gal in the chorus line…Th-there’s no Cassandra di Lucchese here…You must h-have the wrong place,” the janitor said backing up against the wall.  

Angel looked to the side and sighed deeply before he asked, “Do ya know a Cassie Walters?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s in rehearsal right now, but it’s almost over,” the janitor said.  “She’s right in there.”

Angel walked past him in preoccupation and said, “Thank you.  Next time watch the attitude, buster.”

He followed the jazz music and walked through the theater doors.  The girls were in the middle of a tap-dancing number, so rather than interrupt, he stood against the wall and sulked.

When she started high school, Cassie started using her mother’s last name instead of his whenever she introduced herself and whenever she signed her name.  When they argued about it, she explained to him that she wanted to be known as herself rather than the daughter of a mafioso.  Cassie didn’t want to be associated with any of them.

That irritated Angel to no end.  That was probably why he kept choosing to forget about it rather than keep fighting pointlessly.

He watched Cassie dance to get his mind on something better.  She had the tap-dancing solo, and boy, was she knocking it out.  Her feet moved with such dexterity, finesse, and speed.  He never knew where God got that talent to put in her.  It certainly didn’t come from him or her mother.  She was unbelievable.  

On top of that, she could sing, she could act, and she could play several instruments.  Cassie was a Broadway star in the making.

Angel smiled.  He couldn’t help but be proud.  

The rehearsal soon ended, and as soon as all the ladies returned to their dressing room, Angel talked to the director about her progress and wrote him another check. Then when he thought the ladies had enough time to make themselves decent, he got the director to show him where the dressing room was.

The director knocked on the door and yelled, “Are you all decent?  One of your Dad’s wants to come in!”

When he received the confirmations, the director opened the door and said, “Go on in, Mr. Lucchese.”

“Much obliged,” Angel said as he strutted in.

He walked past about a dozen other girls before he saw his still sitting in front of a mirror.  

Cassie had her mother’s face, but she had his hair, eyes, svelte body, and olive skin.  Of course, Angel was biased, but she was absolutely beautiful.

She was wearing a white blouse with black pants, her tap-dancing shoes, and an old-fashioned looking broch.  For some reason, her long hair was up in a bun.  Cassie always had a weird sense of style.  Just like him.  It made him so happy.

Cassie was too busy adjusting her hair to notice he was present, so Angel crept up, hugged her from behind, and said, “Guess who?”

Cassie turned around, hugged him, and squealed in surprise, “Dad!  You’re back!”

Angel picked her up, spun her around, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and said, “What’s the buzz, bambina? I swear to God you’re getting lighter. All that dancing is making you too thin.”

“I missed you too, Dad,” Cassie said when her Dad finally put her down.  “But in your letter, you said you weren’t coming back for another week.”

“We got done early so I thought I’d surprise you,” Angel said leaning against the table.  

“So, you lied to me? That’s just swell.”

“I’m here for one minute, and you decide to give me sass.  Is that any way to treat your old man?”

“You’re not that old.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully, sat back in her chair, and went back to messing with her hair.  

“By the way, what’s with the new duds?” Angel asked.  “Not that I don’t like ‘em.  Mind you. Just curious.”

“It’s a costume,” Cassie replied twirling around and showing him her cape.  “I’m goin’ to a Halloween party with the cast tonight after we go out for dinner.  I’m goin’ as Dracula.”

“So, you’re goin’ for more of a Bela Lugosi look then?”

“You got it.  I’ve been lookin’ forward to this all month. I spent days getting the cape just right and getting all the clothes perfect.  There’s gonna be a costume contest, and whoever wins gets treated by all the losers.”

“No kiddin’?  Well, in that case, your costume could use some work.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Cassie asked indignantly.  

“First of all, you need to wear your hair down,” Angel said turning her back around and pulling bobby pins out of her hair.  “For God’s sake, Cass, ya look like a fuddy-duddy school teacher.”

“Dad!” Cassie complained putting her hands on top of his.  “Stop it.  You know it takes forever to do anything with this hair.  Besides, I’m supposed to look like Bela Lugosi.  Suave and sophisticated and all that jazz…”

Angel gently pushed her hands off, continued pulling out bobby pins until her hair was again at its full long length, and said, “Cassie, babe, there’s nothin’ suave and sophisticated about looking like my high school English teacher.  You look fuddy-duddy.”

“But I’m supposed to look old, Dad,” she retorted.  “I’m Dracula…”

“He lets his hair flow freely in the book,” he retorted while brushing out her hair.  “Remember?  Think of it this way.  You’re now more authentic than all the other posers.  Besides, you look better with your hair down, Cass.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Cassie relented as her father finished brushing her hair and put the brush down.  

“Of course, I do,” Angel said quietly as he leaned in closer to her ear.  “I’m a queer.  You can trust me when it comes to this stuff.”

Cassie smiled and said, “That is true.”

“And take off this cheesy broch,” Angel said taking the opportunity to snatch the broch from the collar Cassie’s shirt and toss it in the trash.  “Good God, babe, are you tryin’ to look like a geezer?  Where’d you get this garbage anyway?”

“Dad!” Cassie said reaching down into the waste basket and pulling her broch out.  “I bought this at a trinket shop with Caterina when we were shoppin’ for costume supplies.  Excuse me if this theater gig doesn’t pay much.”

“I understand, so why don’t ya wear this instead?” Angel replied pulling a ruby diamond platinum pendant out of his pocket.  “I bought it for ya as a little souvenir from Italy.  Let me put on for you.”

“Dad,” Cassie said in surprise while Angel clasped it around her neck for her.  “It’s beautiful.”

Angel kissed her cheek and said, “There, doesn’t that look better?”

“Dad, I don’t know what to say,” Cassie managed to get out while looking over the pendant in awe.

“No need to thank me, bambina,” Angel replied with a smile while readjusting her hair.  “You know how I love to get my girl pretty things.”

Cassie then paused, turned to him, and asked with a look of suspicion, “Dad, where did you get this?”

“I told you, Italy,” Angel said purposely dodging the question.

“Where specifically?”

“At a store.”

Cassie continued studying his face in a way she knew annoyed him.  

“Bambina, what’s that face supposed to mean?” he whined.

“Cassie, are ya ready to go or what?” Cassie’s friend, Caterina, said walking up in her witch costume and saving him from another unwanted explanation which would lead to an unwanted argument.  “Wow, honey, your outfit is killer, especially that pendant you’re wearing.”

“Told ya,” Angel said hugging his daughter on the side and kissing her on the cheek again before walking away.  “I won’t hold you up since you got plans.  I love you, and I’ll call ya later.  Okay?”

Cassie sighed and said, “Ok, see ya.”

“Bye, Mr. Lu—Ow!” Caterina started to say before Cassie swiftly elbowed her in the side.  “I mean, bye, Mr. Walters.”

“Bye,” Angel said heading walking away with mixed feelings.

Apparently, her school buddy Caterina was the only one who knew who Cassie really was.  If that was what she wanted, then who was he to say no?

His thoughts were interrupted by an obnoxious, grandstanding masculine voice saying, “Hey, Cass!”

Angel turned around. He knew this fat-head’s voice.  He was the doll-dizzy creep who took his baby out on the town, got wasted, and left her out in Harlem by herself in the wee hours of the morning.  

Thankfully, Cassie had the sense to find a payphone and call Angel to come get her.  Naturally, he did not like that boy.

Angel hid behind a rack of clothes and watched from a distance.  Tony was dressed in the same outfit Cassie was much to her chagrin.

“You ain’t supposed to be in here, Tony,” Cassie said in annoyance walking past him with Caterina.

“Yeah, creep, get a move on,” Caterina said strutting past him as well.

“Cassie, look at this,” Tony said.  “You and I are dressed the same.  How about that?”

“Mine looks better,” Cassie said playfully paying him little attention.  “Yours looks like you bought it from a cheesy department store.”

“Well, maybe, but I was thinking we could, you know, go as a couple since we are dressed the same and all,” Tony said standing in front of her.

“As swell a time as I’m sure that would be,” Cassie replied sarcastically.  “I’m gonna say no.”

“Why not, babe?  I know the first date didn’t go so well, but…”

“‘Didn’t go so well?’ I had to call my Dad to get me out of Harlem at 2 in the mornin’.  Then, you don’t even have the decency to call and apologize?”

“That was over a month ago, babe, you’re the faithful one.  Don’t ya believe in forgiveness?”

“I do, but the Bible doesn’t tell ya to act a fool.  Scram, Tony.”

Cassie walked past him exiting the dressing room without another word with Caterina silently following behind her.  Her hands were tightly gripped around the strap of her bag.  

Angel knew from that that she was pissed.  This knucklehead was not taking no for an answer.  He had to do something, and now was the time to do it.

Angel crept up from behind, pushed Tony into a chair, pulled a knife out of his pocket, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and said, “Listen, you active duty fat-head.  That girl you’re so clobbered on is my daughter and she doesn’t like you, so you better lay off, or next time, Daddy Angelo di Lucchese is gonna do a little more than just bust your chops.  You hear me?”

When Tony meekly nodded, Angel let him go.

Tony fell backwards, trembled in his chair in absolute horror, and said, “C-Cassie’s a Lucchese? Oh, my God…”

“That’s right, buddy,” Angel said leaning close to his face.  “If you bother her again, you’re gonna have the whole Lucchese family on your tail…”

“DADDY!” Angel heard a familiar voice yell behind him.

He turned around and saw his daughter standing pale-faced in embarrassment in the doorway next to Caterina.

“Bambina…” Angel said as Tony took the opportunity to run out of the dressing room.

“Uh, I forgot my purse,” Caterina said awkwardly walking past them.  

“Dad, what in God’s name were you doing?!” Cassie yelled.

“I was getting that creep off your back, Cass,” Angel replied.  

“He would have left me alone anyways!  You didn’t have to do that!  God have mercy!  Now, the whole damn theatre is going to know that I’m a member of the Lucchese family!”

“Good, now, he’ll leave you alone!”

“Uh…” Caterina said having walked back when no one was looking.  “Cassie, why don’t we go?”

“I can’t go,” Cassie replied.  

“Why not?”

“He’s going to blab to everyone that I’m the daughter of Angelo di Lucchese.  You know how awkward that party’s going to be.  They’re going to keep me at arm’s length and treat me like a China doll.  That’s what always happens.”

“But Cass…”

“Get going, Caterina,” Cassie said.  “You don’t wanna keep Johnny waiting.”

Caterina sighed, gave her a hug, and said, “Okay, I’ll call you later.”

Cassie hugged her back and said, “Have fun.”

Caterina walked out. Cassie glared at Angel and then walked out behind her.  

Angel facepalmed, sighed deeply, and ran out after her yelling, “Cassie!  Bambina, where’d you go?!  I’m sorry!”

When he didn’t hear a reply, Angel sulked back to his car.  He had ruined his daughter’s evening.  The only thing left for him to do was to look for some drugs.

But right as he entered the car, he saw Cassie go out the front door of the theater.  She had changed into her normal clothes: a black sweater with a green plaid skirt, normal shoes, and a headband that matched her skirt.  The only thing she was still wearing was the ruby pendant.

Cassie saw Angel through the windows, but she clutched her bag and her coat and walked down the stairs as if she didn’t see him.

Angel hopped back out of the car and walked over to the other side.  

“Cassie, you can’t keep ignoring me,” he said.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Where do you think I’m going?” Cassie asked.  “I’m walking home.”

“No, you’re not,” Angel said throwing the car door open.  “Get in.”

Cassie turned around, rolled her eyes, and climbed into her Dad’s car.  

When Angel climbed in, he started the car and started heading for his favorite Italian restaurant. The drive would give them time to talk.

Angel looked over and saw that Cassie was staring out the window.  

He sighed and asked, “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” she replied.

“Well, then, I’m sorry.”

“But you keep doing it.”

“I do not.”

Cassie turned around and said, “Oh, really?  Remember Jacob?”

“He was a Jew,” Angel said. “You’re Catholic.  You weren’t interested.  He wouldn’t take the hint.”

“Paul?”

“He had it coming.”

“Emilio?”

“He gave off bad vibes.  I didn’t like him.”

“Well, how about Steve?”

“Uh…okay, I went too far that time.”

“That time?  You go too far every single time a guy shows interest in me.”

“I was just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?  By doing what?  By making every boy I turn down think the Lucchese mob is after them?”

“It makes them leave you alone.  Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah and ruins any chance of having a normal relationship.  Do you know how hard it is to be friends with a boy who can’t look at you without shuddering in fear?”

“That’s what gives us power, bambina,” Angel said proudly with a twisted smile.  “You should take advantage of it.”

“I don’t want to,” Cassie said passionately after a brief pause.  “I don’t want people to look at me and be afraid of me.  I want them to know I can be their friend, not their enemy. And I want them to be good to me because they know I’m a good person and respect me for who I am, not because I’m forcibly connected by genetics to a bunch of murderers and thieves.”

Angel looked at her. His features softened when he saw the passionate tears at the corners of her eyes.  

He looked back at the road, sighed deeply, and said, “Cass, I’m really sorry for threatening your suitors. Okay?  If it makes you happy, I’ll leave ‘em alone from now on.  Unless they threaten to hurt you or if they actually hurt you.  Or, if they get you pregnant.  Hell, if that happens, I’ll fire a shot gun right into their genitals and up their asses. Either way, they’ll never enjoying making love ever again.”

“Dear God, Dad,” Cassie said looking at him with an amused smile.  “Do you always have to talk like you’re reading a porn novel?”

“Yes,” Angel said as she playfully rolled her eyes.  “I hope you’re in the mood for Italian food.  We’re going to Fragole.”

“I figured that out when you passed my apartment.”

“I love it when you’re a wise guy.”

“Your apology is accepted by the way.”

“Thank God!” Angel said switching the radio on and having his eyes light up when he heard his favorite Halloween song come on.  “Oooh, yes! My favorite!”

“Oh, no,” Cassie said. “You know how much this song annoys me.”

“You know you like it,” Angel teased wrapping his arm around her shoulder while he drove.  “Now, come here, you.”

“Dad, you do this every year,” Cassie complained playfully as the opening instrumental part of the song finally finished.

“Just like the magic potion,” Angel sang much to his daughter’s “chagrin.” “You fill me with emotion.  You control my very soul.  You got me voodoo’d.  Who knew the goddess Venus would start this love between us?”

“How appropriate,” Cassie added sarcastically.  

“You fill me with desire,” Angel sang.  “You got me voodoo’d.”

Finally, Cassie relented, and they sang together, “You knew you had power.  Pick the hour when the full moon was above.  I was hypnotized when I looked in your eyes and my heart was filled with love.  Just like the power of Circe, you’ve got me at your mercy.  Always yours to have and hold, you’ve got me voodoo’d.”

“There, was that so bad?” Angel asked as the song continued with its big band instrumentals.  

“It gets more tolerable every year,” Cassie admitted as she leaned on his shoulder.

“Then, I’ll just have to keep singing it.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Eventually, Angel got them to the restaurant where they had their meal.  Fragole was a friend of “the family” so Angel managed to get him and his girl a section to themselves.  They had a good time.  They got to talk and catch up while enjoying some great food.  Everything was fine…until Angel once again opened his big mouth.

Angel had mentioned seeing the end of Cassie’s rehearsal, so she had been talking about how her dancing was going.

“I still can’t believe I got the solo,” Cassie said between bites of spaghetti.  “I’m the youngest girl there.  I mean, I thought I’d get in the chorus line for sure, but not the solo. Those usually go to the older girls.”

“Believe it, Cass,” Angel said between sips of wine.  “You’re goin’ places.  I always knew you were.  I talked to the director while you were changing in the dressing room.  He says you cook with helium every time you’re on that stage.  He knew you were amazing from your first audition.  He would have taken you even without my check…”

The words escaped his mouth before he even thought about what he was saying.  His only thought then was, “fuck.”

Cassie dropped her fork on her plate and yelled, “WHAT?!”

“Oh, shit,” Angel said facepalming himself.

“DAD!” Cassie yelled angrily as the color vanished from her face.  “How could you?!  You knew I wanted to earn my place, but you bribed my director anyway?!  What’s wrong with you?!”

“Cass, I was only trying to help,” Angel said trying to calm her and himself down.

“That’s always your goddamn excuse!” Cassie replied standing up from her chair.  “Why can’t you ever let me earn anything on my own?!”

“Because I don’t want to see you fail,” Angel said starting to get annoyed himself.

“Failure’s a part of life, Dad!  You have to work hard to get what you want, and you don’t always succeed, but I want to earn what I want because it’s the right thing to do!  Because that’s what’s fair!” Cassie yelled back.

Angel finally snapped standing up himself, “I got news for you, Cass!  Life isn’t fair, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna respect your noble intentions!”

She might be mad, but he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Cassie demanded.

“That means I stepped in cuz I knew that unless I did you’d be discarded like all the other nobodies of this world,” Angel began.  “Do you know how the big wigs of this world see girls like you?  To all them at the top, you’re a nobody!  To them, you’re just a Walters, a name they don’t know and don’t care about.  You’re a dime a dozen, and if you go, there are a million others waiting to take your place!  To get to the top, you have to slave away for them and do whatever disgraceful, dirty thing they ask!  You can’t trust them to do the right thing!  They won’t do the right thing unless you force them to care!  That’s what our family did and look at where we are now!  You have to stop being naïve and take advantage of the connections you have in this world, Cass.  Unless you do, you are gonna be eaten alive out there!  And I love you too much to watch that happen!  You also need to stop pretending you aren’t as much a Lucchese as I am for the sake of some naïve, self-righteous, and idealistic crusade!”

“I don’t care what you say! I’m a redeemed woman now!  I’m not goin’ back to livin’ as a pampered pet livin’ off your blood money.  And self-righteous?  At least, I’m honest!  Unlike you!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“I know all your sins. You’re a murdering, lying thief in a family of other murdering, lying thieves!  You’re a junkie and a drinker who loves sodomy and adultery!  But that’s not the worst thing about you!”

“What is the worst thing about me then?!”

Cassie’s face suddenly fell as if she was hesitating, but Angel was still angry.

“Come on, Cassie!” Angel yelled.  “You brought it up!  What do I do that you think is so awful?!  What could I possibly do that is worse than all those other sins combined! Huh?!”

Angel felt a hard object get thrown at his eye.  Thankfully, he blinked before it could do any damage, but he still felt a bruise forming. Angel looked down to see what it was and saw the ruby pendant on the ground.

He looked up to see Cassie crying angry tears.

“You’re a hypocrite and a fucking coward,” Cassie said before she took her purse and her coat and powerwalked away from the table and out of the restaurant.

Angel picked up the pendant and stared at it silently for a few minutes.  When the owner came by to check on them, Angel gave him enough cash to cover the bill and told him to keep the change before he walked outside to find his daughter.

He found her smoking on the sidewalk.  He could tell from her face that she had been crying.  When she saw him, she turned away until he asked her for a match.  She handed him a book of matches from her purse, and he lit his own cigarette.  They stood there in silence for a while taking in the scene and watching dusk turn into night.  Each of them was trying to cool down in their own way.  

Angel knew where Cassie had got her temper from.  He wasn’t angry at her.  He was more confused than anything.  There was so much on his mind, but he couldn’t will himself to speak until the street lamp finally came on.

“Cassie, I ain’t mad at ya,” Angel said before taking another puff from his cigarette.  “I’m just confused.  We used to be so close.  You know.  Then after ya moved out with your mother, we started fighting more.  I understand you hating my family.  I do, too.  I hate almost every single one of those bastards.  But I don’t understand why you’re upset at me.  Why do you think I’m a hypocritical coward?”

Cassie looked at him and visibly hesitated.  

“Bambina, you’ve never been afraid of talking to me,” Angel reassured her.  “You don’t have to start now.  You know I would never lay a finger on you for being honest.  If I did, you have my permission to fire a shotgun up my ass. Okay?  Now, tell me.  Why am I a hypocritical coward?”

Cassie sighed and said, “You act like you’re a hard-boiled mafia gangster who only really cares about a handful of people, but I know for a fact that that’s not who you really want to be.  You hate being a part of it as much as I do, but instead of cutting yourself off from it like I am, you indulge your flesh to numb your pain.  That’s why you indulge in your liquor, your drugs, and your sodomy.  You do it to make living with yourself easier because you’re miserable.  That’s why I called you a hypocritical coward.  I’m not wrong.  Am I?”

Angel paused for a second and asked, “What makes you think I don’t like being a part of the mob?”

“When you’re drunk, you talk…a lot.  I’ve been around you during your binges often enough to hear it.  ‘Oh, bambina, I hate killing people for my Dad.  I always see their faces in my dreams.’  ‘Oh, bambina, I wish I was an orphan, so I could do what I wanted with my life.’  ‘Oh, bambina, I don’t like carrying out Dad’s stupid campaigns.  I’d rather be at the clubs snortin’ coke or f****** another queer…’”    

“Christ, I really said that to ya?”

“Yes.”

“Well, uh, Cassie, I was drunk,” Angel said defensively.  “I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Jesus said out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks,” Cassie pushed.

“Don’t quote the Bible at me.”

“That means that something in you wants to leave it even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Cassie…” Angel said defensively.

“You want to leave, but you won’t let yourself admit it!” Cassie said with more passionate tears rolling down her cheeks.  “If you were really all bad like the others, I would learn to live with it, but you’re not! You’re just too scared to change, and one day, it’s gonna destroy ya!  I love you too much to watch that happen, but there’s nothin’ I can do, and I hate it!”

Cassie stared at him with her eyes that pierced his soul.  In the present and in the past, Angel reflected on her words and knew she was right.

Angel sighed deeply before he said, “Okay, stop it.  You’re right about me.  Why did God make you so damn perceptive?”

“Then, why don’t you leave it?” Cassie asked.

“Cass, it’s a lot easier for you than it is for me.  First of all, you’re a woman…”

Cassie shot him a questioning glance and he said, “Okay, there’s a lot about being a woman that’s unfair, but you still have an advantage over me.  Unless you do somethin’ really crazy, no one in the mob cares what you do.  It’s not like that for me.  I’m a son of the Don.  I have no choice but to be involved in this, Cass.  My Dad already hates me.  If I were to leave, he’d hunt me down and make me pay.  Even if he left me alone, I’d be watched for the rest of my life. Hell, you wanna know where I really got the pendant?  I took it as a bribe from a guy I was supposed to kill for desertin’.”

“Then Dad, why don’t you leave New York and go somewhere else?”

“I’d have to go somewhere far away, Cass, and I could never come back.  I mean, where would I go?  What would I do?”

“You could go to San Francisco.  I’ve heard that there’s a large community of queers over there.  You’d fit right in.”

“I’d have to change my name.”

“How about ‘Angel Dust?’ It’s fittin’ for all the drugs you do.”

Angel looked at Cassie and smiled.  He loved her sense of humor.

“You’d be alone,” Angel said.  “If they found out you knew anything, you’d be in trouble and I couldn’t protect you.”

“I’d go to San Francisco with you if it would make you feel better,” Cassie said with a smile.  “I’d miss Mom and my friends, but I could write them letters and call them when I wanted.”  

Angel’s cigarette was done so he flicked it on the ground and said, “I don’t know, babe.  That’d be a big change for me.”

Cassie’s face fell. Angel could never stand seeing her sad.

He walked over to her, gave her a hug, and said, “I’ll think about it.  Alright?”

Cassie hugged Angel back and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

When she finally let go of him, she said, “Maybe you can go to Alcoholics Anonymous, too.  Get help for all your addictions…”

“Let’s focus on one problem at a time, babe.  Slow down a bit.  Will ya? Next thing I know, you’ll tell me to go to an asylum for my queerness,” he replied.  

“Hell, no.  Have you ever read the accounts of Nellie Bly?  That was a long time ago, but not much has changed since then from what I’ve been reading.  I wouldn’t send a rat to one of those places.”

“Speaking of queers, wanna go to Greenwich Village for a Halloween party?  I told some buddies I’d be there, and I’d hate for that costume you worked so hard on to go to waste.”

Cassie smiled playfully and said, “You can’t fool me.  You just wanna go fishing under the guise of spendin’ some time with me.”

“Can’t I do both?” Angel asked while posing dramatically.  “You like the cabarets anyhow, and if I find a date, you can drive yourself home.”

“Only you would choose a place where no boy’s gonna flirt with me.”

“So, you wanna go?”

“Yeah.  Just let me change in the car.”

As they walked to the car, Angel remarked, “You know.  You’re remarkably tolerant of hedonism for a good Catholic girl.”

“On the list of eight cardinal sins and in Dante’s circles of hell, lust and gluttony are at the bottom in terms of seriousness,” Cassie replied.  “Besides, Jesus ate with the prostitutes and tax collectors, so I do, too.”

“Aren’t you an enlightened little saint?”

“You’re insufferable.”

When they reached the car, Cassie changed into her Dracula costume while Angel drove down to his favorite night club in Greenwich Village.  

He had brought her to these places since she was small enough to sit on the pool tables and push the white ball around whenever he’d play pool with her.  Looking back, it was not a responsible thing to do with a little girl, but he was 23 and stupid.  Thankfully, the others liked her enough and Angel never got drunk enough to black out.  

The worst thing that ever happened was that Angel got too drunk to drive or even find the car, and Cassie was tired and scared to the point of tears.  He ended up sleeping on bench with her on his chest covered by his coat.  God was truly merciful to the stupid.

They arrived at the cabaret where everyone was dressed up in their best costumes, mostly in drag but others in Halloween costumes.  The place was crowded with queers from all over New York.  It had Halloween decorations all over to dazzle the eyes and loud big band music with a large dance floor to dance on.  Angel was home.

Angel talked to Isabella, the club’s bisexual bartender, to open a tab for him and his daughter.  She and Isabella were good friends, so he knew it was safe to leave them together.  

“Alright, bambina,” Angel said handing her the keys to his car while clasping the pendant around her neck again to complete her costume.  “I’ll come by to tell you when I get a date but take the keys in case I forget. You’re still too young to drink, but if you do, don’t leave the drink out of sight of yourself or Isabella.  I know we’re at a gay bar, but believe me, some of the lesbians in here are thirsty.  And for God’s sake, call your mother if you get too drunk to drive or she will murder me slowly.  You did tell her you were with me, right?”

“Yes, Dad, you have given me the same spiel every time since I was 13,” Cassie said sassily.  “Do you think I haven’t memorized all this by now?”

“Bambina, I’m your Daddy,” Angel said.  “I’m always gonna be paranoid when it comes to you.  You know that.”

“Then why are you leaving me alone in a bar?” Cassie said sarcastically before Angel gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  

“I love you, bambina,” Angel said rubbing the top of her head.  “Wish me luck.  Daddy’s going fishing.”

“Don’t drown,” Cassie replied as he walked away much to Isabella’s laughter.

“Shut up,” Angel said while Cassie and Isabella continued laughing.

“You’re such a gas, Cass,” Isabella replied.

“Don’t encourage her!” Angel yelled over his shoulder.  

He could hear the girls laugh out loud while he got ready to mingle.  Angel spent most of the night after that drinking and striking out with every man he tried to flirt with while Isabella and Cassie watched and cracked up at his expense in between conversations of their own.  

Eventually, Angel sat down in an empty seat next to Cassie, leaned backwards from both disappointment and drunkenness, and moaned quietly.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Cassie asked mockingly.  “Is the sugar all rationed?”

Angel sat up, turned around, and said, “I just can’t figure out what I’m doin’ wrong, Cass.  I’m doin’ everything right.  I swear to God.  These men aren’t really queer.  They’re all posers just comin’ in to laugh at us on Halloween.”

“Maybe it just isn’t meant to be, Dad,” Cassie replied with her unique blend of optimism and sass between sipping her soda.  “It could be a sign.  Maybe God’s killin’ your sex appeal to make you start actin’ like a marred man.”

“Nah, that can’t be it. First off, your mother and I aren’t technically married, so I’m not technically ‘adulterous.’  Second, if this is a sign of anything, it’s that I’m becoming a geezer.  I just don’t got it in me anymore.”

“Dad, you’re being overdramatic cuz you’re drunk.  You’re 36.”

“I know.  I’m ancient.  No one wants me.  I can’t even get anyone to dance with me.”

Cassie looked at him thoughtfully and said, “I’ll dance with ya, Dad.”

“Really?  You’ll let yourself be seen in public with a cheesy old geezer?” Angel said staring at her pleadingly.  

“It’s never stopped me before.  Has it? Besides,” Cassie said before she stood up, took off her cape, and tap-danced in place.  “Do you think I brought these shoes just for the aesthetic? Come on.”

“Bambina, you make your Daddy so happy,” Angel said leaping up joyfully.  “You’re so good to me in my old age.”

“Hey, Isabella,” Cassie said leading her Dad to the dance floor.  “Could you close the tab?  He doesn’t need any liquor in his system.”

“Hey!” Angel said staggering behind her.  “I’m not drunk.”

“Do you wanna know how much you’ve spent already?”

“Alright, fine.”

Angel sobered up a little once he started dancing with Cassie.  He usually did.  Looking back, those were the best times he had with her.  It was him who taught her how to swing dance and do every other dance he knew, but she had long since surpassed him.  It was all Angel could do to keep up with her now.  Of course, he might say it was because he was buzzed but he knew the truth.  She was much better than him and he was okay with that.  Angel ran out of energy long before Cassie did, but he kept going.  He didn’t want it to stop, so they kept going until she was finally tired out.

In the present, Angel wondered if he kept going because he somehow had a premonition of what was going to happen next.  

At around 2am when Angel and Cassie were too tired to keep going anymore, Cassie helped her father walk to the car with the intention of driving herself and her father back to the apartment.  

Unfortunately for both of them, the car had a flat tire, so Cassie helped her Dad get to a bench and said, “Alright, Dad, I’m gonna call a cab.  You have a preference for who I call?”

“Nah, babe, as long as they get us home,” Angel said sinking into the bench he was sitting on while she walked over to the pay phone not ten feet away.  

Looking back, Angel thought of a million ways this scenario could have gone differently, a million things he could have done instead, but his memories forced him to face the truth.

While Angel was sitting there in his drunken stupor, he heard Cassie call for him once.  Then twice.  Then finally in a blood curdling scream that sobered him immediately.  

Angel leaped to his feet and heard a loud pop.  He saw someone clad in black run away leaving a trail of blood behind him.  He saw Cassie lying on the ground of the phone booth struggling to breathe and coughing up blood with a bullet wound in her chest.

“Oh, my God,” Angel said as he ran over to her throwing off his coat and suspenders and pulling off his shirt to use as a tourniquet.  “CASSIE! Cassie!  Cassie!  Stay with me, bambina!  Please!”

“What the hell is…?!” Isabella yelled running out and seeing Cassie bleeding on the ground.  “OH, MY GOD!”

“AMECHE AN AMBULANCE NOW!” Angel yelled at her as he wrapped the shirt around his hand and held it over the wound.  

Isabella quickly nodded and ran inside to do what he asked.

“Cassie, can you hear me?” Angel pleaded as climbed in and propped her up on his lap to help her breathe more easily.  “If ya do, please say something.”

“Dad…” Cassie replied weakly.  “I’m sorry…”

“What?  What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“He wanted the pendant. But I didn’t want to give it to him, so I stabbed him with my pocket knife, but he shot me and took it anyway. I hope he’s not hurt too bad…”

Angel only noticed then that the necklace was gone.  The thief only wanted the necklace he gave her…

“I’m sorry…” Cassie said. “I was stupid…”

“Cass, don’t say that,” Angel replied unsuccessfully trying to hold back his tears and using one of his hands to stroke her face.  “You’re not stupid.  You’re brave. You’re so brave.  You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known in my life. You had the guts to leave a comfortable, protected life as a gangster’s child to live a hard but honorable life as a godly woman.  You’re so much braver than I’ll ever be.”

“You can be brave, too…You can do the same thing…”

“No, I can’t.  I need you, bambina.  I can’t do it without you.  I’m too much of a fucking coward.”

“I think you have it in ya…”

Cassie started coughing up blood uncontrollably.  Angel sat her up holding her against his chest to help her breathe and begged God to take him instead of her.  He wept and rocked back and forth as his white undershirt was covered in blood until the coughing subsided.  He felt so completely helpless.

“Dad, it’s okay…” Cassie finally said as Angel lowered back down against his chest.  “I know where I’m goin’ and I pray one day I’ll see you there, too…”

“Cassandra Maria di Lucchese, don’t say that,” Angel pleaded.  “You have so much to live for.  You have me, your mama, your friends, the church, your career.  For God’s sake, you want to be a star.  You can’t leave yet!  Please, I’m beggin’ you!  Don’t go! You’re the best thing to ever come out of my goddamn life!  I love you so much!”

“I love you too, Dad…” Cassie replied with her voice getting weaker.  “I love everybody…Please tell them that…But it’s okay…I’ll see them all again, and the way I see it, I still get to dance among the stars with the best audience of all…I’ll be okay…”

Cassie looked up and weakly reached up to her Dad’s face with her right hand.  He held it against his face as he felt her life slipping away.

“Dad…could you sing me out?” Cassie asked more quietly than before.  “I’m about to die, so please make it a good one…”

“No,” Angel replied.  “I’ll make it the one you hate the most.  That way, you have to wait until I sing something better.”

“You’re insufferable…” Cassie said with her sassy smile.

Then Angel began singing slowly to her as the tears kept flowing and he looked into her eyes to be sure she got the message, “Just like the magic potion, you fill me with emotion. You control my very soul.  You got me voodoo’d.  Who knew the goddess Venus would start this love between us?  You fill me with desire.  You got me voodoo’d.  You knew you had power.  Pick the hour when the full moon was above.  I was hypnotized when I looked in your eyes and my heart was filled with love. Just like the power of Circe, you’ve got me at your mercy.  Always yours to have and hold, you’ve got me voodoo’d.”

Cassie was too weak to hold her hand up anymore, so it slipped down but Angel held it in his hand and squeezed it tightly.  There was almost nothing left in her.  It was all Angel could do to not lose it completely.

“How was that, bambina?” Angel asked gently.

“That was the best you’ve ever done…” Cassie replied as she finally slipped away.  “Joke’s on you, though…I always loved that song…”

Cassie’s eyes slid shut and she stopped breathing.

“Cassie?” Angel asked shaking her shoulders.  “Cassie?!”

Angel heard Isabella crying outside the phone booth.  As the sirens approached, his mind grew quieter.  All emotions were silenced except for his grief that overpowered them. Tears flooded out of his eyes as he opened his mouth and wailed out his pain.

The ambulance came and told him what he already knew.  She was gone, but reluctantly, he let go of her hand and watched them take her body anyway.

It was then that he noticed the trail of blood left behind by his daughter’s killer.  Temporarily, another emotion possessed him: pure, unadulterated rage.

Angel stood up, put on the coat he had thrown on the ground, and pulled his hand gun out of his pocket.

Isabella saw him and only said, “Put a good shot in for me.”

Angel turned around, nodded, and followed the blood trail.  It led to a small warehouse down the road.  He didn’t think.  He didn’t need to.  He was guided by his own criminal instincts and the rage that sharpened them.  

When Angel arrived, he opened the door and looked around until he saw the bastard with his shoulder being bandaged in the corner.  He was holding the ruby pendant in his hand, but he had the audacity to ask Angel what his problem was.

Angel pointed the gun at his head and said with unbridled fury behind his voice, “THIS IS A MESSAGE FROM THE LUCCHESE FAMILY, YOU SON OF A BITCH!  SPECIFICALLY, MY LATE DAUGHTER WHO YOU JUST KILLED, CASSANDRA MARIA DI LUCCHESE!!!!!!”

Angel didn’t just shoot him in the head.  He emptied his magazine on him.  Then when he saw Cassie’s knife sitting on the table, Angel used it to stab him repeatedly until he was soaked in his blood and the corpse was almost unrecognizable.

When his rage was satisfied, he grabbed the pendant out of his hand, stuffed it in his pocket, and walked away.  No one dared to approach him.  Angel then ran to his car to go to the hospital where his daughter was.

Angel wished he could say he changed for Cassie after that, but he didn’t have the strength.  He lost his mind.  After the funeral, he locked himself in his apartment with his drugs and liquor and refused to open the door for anyone, not even his sister Molly.  

He only opened the door when Maggie came by one night.  When she entered with luggage, food, and more liquor, she said nothing, but she opened her alcohol and gave him some as well.

Her only words were, “I know you’re the one who killed our baby’s murderer.  Thank you.”

She then sat down next to him and started chugging her liquor next to him.  Very quickly, she was binging and crying along with him, and they talked more than they had in years.  He appreciated his friend’s presence.  She was the only one who understood how he felt.  And she didn’t leave until the day he died.

Together, they went on a path of mutual self-destruction.  They left their respective jobs and became full-time junkies.  They lived together and even slept in the same bed, which ironically made them more of a husband and wife than when Cassie was alive. Together, they drank.  Together, they used.  Together, they became prostitutes when their families cut them off, so they could buy more drugs.  Together, they tried any new thing they could to numb the pain just a little bit more and make their lives more bearable, whether that was substance abuse, sex, or anything else that caused trouble.

They grew very close over the next year.  It made sense, because very soon, all they had was each other.  Angel and Maggie pushed everyone else away.  They lived in an isolated wonderland of hedonism all their own.  They had so much fun that it drowned out the misery their hearts were feeling.  Despite it brought on them, they were happy together, and the way Angel saw it, he was in some way doing what Cassie had wanted.

Then came the day Angel died.  It was Halloween.  He woke up early in the morning from another nightmare, but his partner-in-crime wasn’t there.  He got up to look for her, and all he found was a note she left.

Maggie said that she was tired of the empty life she was living and the pain her addictions could never cure.  She had left to check herself into the rehab facility her church sponsored and begged Angel to come with her to receive the help he needed.

Angel crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it aside in anger.  His only friend had abandoned him, and he was by himself again.  Angel sat down and wept quietly for a while until he remembered the stash of PCP they had bought the night before.

Angel dumped out her share and his share for himself.  He inhaled all of it until it was gone.  

Not too long after, he fell on the floor convulsing uncontrollably.  He tried to call for help, but his voice was gone.  His vision began fading, and his mind began to create more hallucinations.  He could have sworn that he saw his little girl looking as she was on that fateful day a year before begging him to change.  She was beautiful.  He tried to reach for her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate, and she disappeared.

The last thought Angel remembered thinking before he died was, “I’m sorry, bambina…”

When the Grim Reaper took Angel’s soul to Judgement, he accepted it without complaint.  When God gave his judgement, he listened quietly and unapologetically, but somehow, he could feel from the love and sadness emanating from him that he understood how he felt.

The only thing Angel said before he was sent to hell was, “Thank you for looking after Cassie.  I know you’re a trillion times the father to her that I ever was.”

When he was taken away, Angel could somehow still feel Cassie’s tears falling.

From then on in hell, Angel lived as he wanted.  He took the name “Angel Dust” from Cassie’s joke, made a name for himself in the adult porn industry, and stayed away from the mob when his relatives finally did descend. He was no saint, but he figured that his actions would make Cassie a little bit happier.

As time wore on, he didn’t forget, but the pain became easier to bear as he lived his new life and made new friends.  He was slightly disappointed when Maggie didn’t come to join him when she died but only slightly.  After all, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to avoid hell.  

Life was still miserable, but the drugs, sex, and bad friends made it tolerable.  

Back in the present, Angel was finally standing in front of the Happy Hotel.  He didn’t know what redemption would take or how hard it would be. He didn’t even know if he could do it, but for the first time in forever, his heart felt hopeful.  That hope reminded him of Cassie, and even if that was the only result from it, it was still worth investing his time in, especially if it meant he could finally see his daughter as the man she always believed he could be.

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #angel dust

[artemisnightingale216]

Ch 2- A New Beginning

Authors Note: We have some very special cameos of some fan favorites that are sure to leave you laughing! I hadn’t planned on adding them in now or possibly ever, but they made it in anyway! I hope I did them justice!

Prologue

Chapter 1- Unemployed

Ottilie was at a lose. A month had already come and gone since losing her job at the studio, yet she still had nothing to show for it. It wasn’t has if she’d sat around wallowing in her sorrow, heavy as it may be. She’d looked tirelessly day after day, walking to business after business, her feet sore to the point of throbbing each night she’d come home.

It was only a few days prior that she nearly ran right into the Exterminators, the angel-esc creatures always arriving with no warning to carry out their duty, but had hidden just in time to escape them. She’d watched the carnage from her temporary safe haven, horrified but unable to look away. Only when the screams died out and all was quiet did she finally emerge, many others doing the same as they either raced home or started riots as they ransacked everything in sight. Never having had any interest in such disrespectful actions, she’d ran straight home and slid her back down the door once inside, sitting there in silence until her breathing and heart rate returned to normal.

Perhaps it had been wrong of her to think it, but the next day she had been secretly grateful they’d come; the number of dead demons meant there would be plenty of new job openings and had given her a brief feeling of hope, but that was quickly tarnished when she learned all too quickly that jobs went just as swiftly as they came. Most jobs she’d inquired about told her that she was hours too late, but one had told her she was only minutes. Discouraged despite the fact that it would have been low paying and not something she would have loved like she did at the studio, she’d left and returned home once again. After that, she hadn’t bothered looking. There was no point beating a horse that was already dead.

So there she sat in the living room, staring at nothing in particular as she rocked idly in her antique rocking chair, the usually soothing action doing nothing to ease her worries. The end of the month was coming all to quickly and she had nothing left to give her landlord. She would be kicked out as soon as she found out and she’d be left on the streets, which only made living in Hell all the more dangerous. She didn’t want to guess what would happen to her then.

A sigh escaped her before she rose out of the chair, her body feeling heavy with the urge to sink back into it. It did her no good to sit around and mope while she waited to be inevitably homeless. With nothing else to do, she distracted herself by cleaning.

She had never necessarily been a messy person, but work had always kept her busy enough that she neglected the more menial chores. It seemed dusting was a must, as a fine layer of the pesky particles had settled over some of her lesser used household objects, but a bit of cleaning solution fixed that up and left them sparkling like new. Next, she brought out a stepladder from the hall closet and worked at clearing the cobwebs from that had been starting to from in the corners of her ceiling, the disturbed dust floating around in the air making her sneeze on more than one occasion. When that was done, she polished the few pieces of silver she had on display in a small glass case hanging on the wall in her living room; she knew she would have to sell them eventually, though doing so now would do her no good seeing how they were hardly worth the cost of her rent, and told herself they would be her last resort. Afterwards came the floors, which weren’t terrible but did need a good scrubbing after all her years walking on them, the finished wood floors almost gleaming like mirrors, though thankfully not enough to see her own reflection. The wallpaper was her last task and took up quite a bit of time, the edges having started to peel back and needing re-glued before being smoothed out.

All together, this kept her occupied for a few days and she hadn’t thought much about her current predicament. Now that it was over, however, there was not much left to distract her. She tried reading from the small collection of books she had, but that proved fruitless as she couldn’t concentrate on the words in front of her. She even tried designing a new dress or two, but gave up when she realized she had no one to give it to.

Not for the first time, she found herself missing Angel. His spunky attitude and sass had always found a way to lift her spirits even when she found herself in the darkest of places, but now she felt his absence when she really needed him most. A part of her had hoped he would come and see her, but had to remind herself that she had never once told him where she lived. She had considered going to see him at the studio, but didn’t want to get in his or anyone elses way. Aside from that, it might be too painful for her, and that was something she could not handle right now.

Normally, she’d find comfort in being in the small cottage she called home, but after having been cooped up in it for several days it felt like she was suffocating. Deciding to act on her idea before she talked herself out of it, she changed into a fresh dress and put on her thick overcoat before stepping out into the ‘fresh’ air, or at least as fresh as it could get in Hell. Heading to nowhere in particular, she walked the streets with her head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone and ignoring their crude remarks just as she always did. She didn’t even bother looking at shops in hopes of seeing any help wanted signs, knowing she would see none.

Ottilie was not long into her walk before she found herself regretting it as an apparent turf war broke out. The street had been comfortably quiet, only a few demons walking along the sidewalks in the lesser occupied area of the Pentagram, when suddenly the ground beneath her feet trembled. She paused and looked around, wondering if anyone else had felt it too, but everyone seemed oblivious. Thinking it was just her nerves after having been cooped up for so long, she pressed on, but only made it a few steps before she felt another tremor, this one accompanied by a loud boom. This time, everyone on the street stopped and looked around in confusion, some even coming from neighboring streets just to see what the noise was. Another boom followed a tremor, both of them much closer than before, nearly knocking people off their feet as they stumbled a bit.

A deafening silence hung in the air as the noises suddenly stopped. Confusion set in further and everyone held their breath, waiting to see if it would happen again. A long howl of pain suddenly broke the silence, the outcry sounding as if it were getting closer and closer by the second. All heads turned to the right as a long black mass came flying out of a nearby alleyway before colliding with a car parked in the street. A sizable dent was put into the automobile and a demon slid down onto the asphalt, his tail coiled beneath him in an unruly manner as he groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck.

The demon was much taller than they’d originally thought, but that may have had something to do with his long serpentine tail, which made up the entire lower half of his body. His waist, chest, and arms were thin, especially in comparison to his thick lower half, but were made even more so by the black and yellow pinstripe blazer he wore, the padding in the shoulders almost making them look broader. His yellow undershirt was centered with a fuchsia colored eye, but whether or not he could actually see out of it was anyones guess. His underbelly was lined with two strips of light yellow, two rows of the same colored eyes as the one on his chest running down the length of them, and the yellow underside of skin that extended from his head, giving him the illusion of hair, also had two matching sets of eyes on either side, the top being much bigger than the bottom in size. The eyes that were actually set on his face were a much lighter shade of pink, the area around his slitted pupils just slightly darker. His wide fang filled mouth was pulled into a grimace, a forked tongue flicking out every thirty seconds in irritation as he continued to rub at the back of his head with large slender hands that extended into fuchsia colored clawed fingers. Around his neck was a rather huge black and yellow bow tie and atop his head was a matching top hat, but the hat had a mouth and eye of its own, the face seeming to correspond with the emotions of its wearer.

He shook his head to try and rid himself of the dull ache at the back of his skull and stared angrily at the alleyway he’d come flying out of only seconds before. “Why that arrogant, worthless, little piece of sh-!” He stopped when he noticed all heads turned to him, some of their expressions not looking on him kindly, and it clearly rubbed him the wrong way as he shouted, “What are you insufferable half-wits looking at!?”

“Well, if I had to guess,” a new voice called out tauntingly before a new figure stepped out of the alleyway, “I’d say they were looking at a piss poor example of a waste of space!”

The white skinned she-demon was a slender slip of a woman, her breast and hips large enough to give her a shapely figure, and the wide sharp-toothed smile she sported only spelled danger for those around her. She wore tattered and ripped clothing that revealed generous portions of the skin underneath; the off-the-shoulder magenta crop top over her chest put her bra straps on full display along with the tops of her breasts and the matching extremely short skirt around her hips doing nothing to cover her crotch was only saved by the black pants she wore underneath. On her arms were fingerless gloves that extended past her elbows, one colored black and the other white and grey. One foot was covered by a fuchsia boot with two white stripes across the top while her other was bare safe for the fuchsia toed white sock. Her shoulder and temple were dotted with three magenta freckles and the single eye in the center of her head had no pupil; in its place sat a large white x, making it hard to pinpoint exactly where she was looking. Her hair, ranging from hues of orange to pink, was slightly frayed and parted to the side with a thin stick of hair wrapped in a brown ribbon keeping a portion sectioned off from the rest.

The male, who Ottilie recognized from her long time in Hell as a snake demon, glared at the woman as he picked himself up off the ground. “You’d best watch yourself, missy! You’re on thin ice as it is and I’ve had just about enough of that mouth of yours!”

“Only just enough, huh?” the woman questioned in surprise before her smile returned. “I guess I’ll have to kick it up a notch, then!” She pulled out a small brightly colored ball and tossed it into the air before catching it again, the skull drawn on the front not a good sign for anyone.

“Well, kicking it up a notch might be an improvement in your case! Maybe then this fight would be a bit more evenly matched!” the snake demon sneered mockingly.

“And this coming from the guy who only a minute ago was sent flying and landed flat on his ass?” the woman snickered.

The snake demon glared again, looking around angrily as a few members of their audience laughed too, making him hiss in frustration. “All of you low life sinners had best get out of my territory before I make you regret ever stepping into it!” A pause hung in the air before the street roared with laughter, none of them intimidated after what they’d just seen; all but Ottilie, at least, who knew a threat when she saw one, but leaving now would only draw attention to herself and she received more than enough of that to begin with. “Fine then,” he smiled, clearly knowing something they didn’t, and pulled out a small whistle from inside his blazer. “Have it your way.” He brought it to his lips and blew into the small silver contraption.

It was strange when no sound came out of the whistle. It was strange when the snake demon placed it back inside his blazer and crossed his arms with a smug smile on his reptilian face. It was strange when the one eyed demoness looked around nervously despite nothing happening in that instant. What was even stranger, though, was when a flurry of battle cries could be heard coming from the adjacent streets followed by a stampede of small feet.

Heads turned in different directions as egg shaped demons came running out of the alleyways and side streets, many of them needlessly climbing over cars and trash cans even though they could have simply walked around the few that were there. They seemed almost never ending as they came pouring out like water from a faucet, most of them still crying out and shouting as if being called to battle, and their numerous footfalls were practically deafening despite how small their feet were. Once they eventually trickled off and reached the snake demon who appeared to have called them, they circled around him from all sides, creating a wall of protection around him, but their height didn’t seem to do much in his favor.

“Here we are,” one of the eggs looked up at the snake, a slight pause hanging in the air, “boss.”

“We got here pretty quick, didn’t we, Mr. Boss-Man!” another said, tapping on his tail repeatedly to gain his attention, nearly poking one of the eyes in the process.

The snake hissed at them, the skin around his head and neck flaring out in a threatening manner, making them all shut up and return their attention to the task at hand.

The one eyed demoness shook off her initial worry and her expression returned to one of cocky indifference. “You think those half-assed chicken shitted wannabes can scare me off? Why don’t you take your fetus rejects and go home to watch The Price is Right, old man?”

The snake demon looked confused. “The what is what? Ugh! Never mind! I’ve already staked my claim in this territory and I’ll not have some punky ruffian run me off of it… again!”

“You are a man of science, aren’t you? What’s that saying about doing something over and over again and expecting different results?” the one eyed demoness tilted her head mockingly.

“That’s not science, you imbecile! That’s the definition of insanity!” the snake demon said in irritation.

The demoness let out a single loud laugh and shouted, “Nerd!”

The snake demon looked around in irritation as people around him laughed along with her. “Ugh! You’ll all rue the day you laughed at Sir-!” he began as he reached into his blazer again only to cut himself off mid-sentence as he dug around deeper. Pulling his arm out, he patted himself down and looked around frantically. “Where is my ray gun!?” He looked around at the eggs surrounding him, their looks turning from determination to fear. “Which one of you has it?”

“It isn’t us,” another pause, “boss.”

“We would never think to take it from you,” the egg shook his head, his entire body moving with the motion.

“I think I saw Number Twenty-Six with it,” one raised his hand excitedly.

The snake glanced around and raised a brow. “Twenty-Six! Where are you?”

“Over here, boss,” another egg called out fearfully as he and two others came waddling as fast as they could from around a corner, a strange weapon about as big as he was held above his head. They appeared to be running away from something rather than actually toward the man who seemed to employ them.

That something came barreling out after them and smashed what appeared to be a blunt object over one of their heads, causing it to crack and cave in. The tall figure pulled the object, which was a baseball bat with nails hammered into one end, out the remains and the broken egg fell to the ground. The pavement and the bat were now covered in yellow yolk, but the work was not yet. The other egg not carrying the weapon turned and waved his hands in a stop motion, but was ignored as the bat swung to the side and sent him flying to the side, his body immediately exploding on impact and causing more yolk to coat the asphalt. The bat was aimed at the third egg, but it jumped out of the way in time and stepped into the small sea of his lookalikes, the gun in his hands the only way to tell him apart from the others.

Ottilie was so surprised to find that Angel Dust was the one wreaking havoc on the over sized eggs that she nearly called out his name, the shout catching in her throat once she realized she was about to call attention to herself, something she’d been trying to avoid only moments before. She was happy to see him, but now was not the time.

The egg demon made his way through the short crowd, the others around him parting to let him through only to step back into place once he passed. Once he was at the center, he held the gun-like weapon up as high as he could reach toward the snake. “Here it is, boss! I kept it safe for you, sir!” He seemed so proud of himself in that moment, but it was shattered when the object was snatched from his hands.

“Give me that before you hurt someone important… namely me!” the black scaled demon hissed. He flipped a few switches on the gun and it hummed to life, a red glass panel slowly glowing to a bright crimson red. He held it out in front of him and aimed it right at the one eyed demoness, her brow furrowing into a glare. “Now, where was I? Oh yes! You will all rue the day you laughed at the mighty Sir Pentious!”

“The only thing mighty about you is your age!” the demoness laughed before he pulled the trigger.

The center of the claw-like tips began to emit a crimson glow of their own as a sphere shaped ball appeared inside of it, the humming much louder now until it grew into a crescendo. The gun let off a strange noise as a beam of light flew out from the sphere and headed straight toward its target, the backlash from the force of it causing the weapon to fly back and hit Sir Pentious in the face.

Angel Dust came running up just seconds before the beam could hit the demoness and knocked her out of the way, the two falling to the ground in a heap. The beam instead hit the wall behind her and caused the bricks to immediately crumble into dust in a wide circle, a few heads inside the building poking out in surprise to see what had created the hole only to disappear back inside a few seconds later. Anyone wondering what a silly beam of light might have done were no longer questioning it and there was a brief moment of silence before demons were scrambling left and right, some trying to leave the street altogether and others ducking behind nearby objects big enough to hide them.

Ottilie had hidden herself behind a stack of wooden crates left to rot in a dead end alleyway, knowing that she had no chance of running in the heels she was wearing, and peaked out from behind to continue watching. With that gun around, she feared what would happen to Angel, knowing how reckless he could be in the face of danger; she wondered if a demon could even come back from being turned into dust or if she would have to face the sight of what was once his body being a permanent pile on the ground.

“Get them, you fools!” Pentious called out over the commotion, making his egg minions jump in surprise before they spurred into action. He watched in satisfaction as they formed into small groups and chased after their targets, most of them successful in tackling the ones running to the ground and beating into them with their tiny fists while the ones searching for the hiding demons looked around in confusion, some of them lifting up tiny rocks and looking under them as if they could hide under there; a good many of them passed by Ottilie, but none of them seemed to notice her. He and his hat rolled their eyes in irritation before he returned his attention to Angel and the woman he was helping up. “As for you two,” they looked at him and raised their brows, “I think I’ll just turn you both into the worthless bits of dust you are! What a fitting end to two wastes of space!” He aimed the gun again and pulled the trigger, but it only hummed for a second or two before dying out. He looked at the gun from a few different angles before beating it against his hand. “Darn thing always stalling! That’s the last time I use second rate wiring!”

Angel and his companion smiled at each other, the words they spoke to each other lost in the chaos, and took advantage of the situation. The one eyed woman plucked an egg off the sidewalk as he came running by and cracked him in half over her leg, causing his yolky innards to spill out as she pulled the two halves apart. She placed the skull painted ball she’d been holding up until that point inside the empty shells after igniting a strip of wick on the ball and placed them back together. The pieces somehow managed to stay stuck together as she tossed them high into the air. Angel held the nail laden bat behind his head, his eyes on the egg now falling toward him, and swung it as soon as his target fell into place.

Pentious looked up from tinkering with his gun in time to see the white, black, and yellow object flying toward his face. A grimace pulled at his features just before the shell crashed into his face and the explosive that had apparently been placed inside went off. A scarlet colored smoke blossomed out in a wide radius around him and left him hacking and coughing along with his hat once some of it cleared.

Angel and the woman exchanged a few more words and high fived each other before Angel ran off to chase after the egg demons while she stayed behind to face the now very angry snake demon.

Ottilie lost sight of Angel from her hiding spot, now somewhat relieved that he was out of the way of the deadly weapon in the hands of an apparent mad-man. Her eyes followed him as long as they could before he disappeared and she had to turn her attention to the rest of the chaos happening around her.

The small groups of egg demons had broken off and most of them were more or less on their own. More than a few of the remaining groups were bashing some handheld weapons, which appeared to be household objects that one normally wouldn’t carry around in hopes of attacking someone with it, against cars and other things on the street; Ottilie was left to wonder why they were doing this as a quick glance revealed no one was hiding underneath or around them and they could certainly see this much better with their small stature. The ones who had apparently gone rogue were still chasing around the demons trying to flee the scene, first attacking their legs to trip them up and then pinning them to the ground so they could beat into them only for the pattern to repeat once they escaped their hold.

One of the eggs had managed to discover a hiding place as he lifted the lid off a trash can that had turned over and found a cat demon hiding inside. The two jumped away from each other in surprise before the cat clambered out of the bin and tried to get away. The egg dashed after him, surprising fast for a creature of his size, and latched onto his leg once he caught up. The added weight caused the cat to try to kick him off before he was left unbalanced and fell to the ground. The egg leapt up and gripped onto the cats face, pulling rather hard on his fur and taking a few clumps out in the process. The cat hissed in a mixture of pain and rage as he clawed at the thing assaulting his face and tried to pull it off, this proving difficult without pulling out more of his fur than had already been. He eventually was able to get the egg off of his head and threw him as far as he could manage, turning and running as soon as he was away from it only to be ambushed by a larger group of them seconds later.

Ottilie watched as the egg soared through the air, calling out in a mixture of fear and excitement, and started to gravitate right towards her. She could have easily backed away and him splatter on the ground in front of her, but instead she held out her arms and caught him. The weight of him caused her to fall forward slightly, but she righted herself and held the over sized thing against her as he looked around dizzily. “Are you alright?” she asked as his eyes focused on her and looked up at her in surprise.

The sight that greeted the egg was Ottilie silhouetted by the sky above her, giving her the image of a crimson halo, a concerned look on her face. He looked up at her in awe and wonder, his hands around his face in a bit of fear, before he asked in an innocent manner, “Are you an angel?”

Ottilie blinked at him in astonishment. “No, I’m not.”

The egg gasped as he reached out toward her face, his hand hovering in the space between them. “Mama? Are you my Mama?”

Ottilies face twitched, like she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a question. Any sane person would have said no, but those almost innocent bright yellow eyes looking up at her in hope made her instead say, “Sure.”

The egg gasped again, his voice rising in elation. He threw his arms around her neck and nuzzled into it, his hard shell surprisingly soft against her skin. “Mama!” She could feel her cheeks heating up to the point her face felt like it was burning. “My nice Mama! My nice, sweet Mama!” She patted his back in an awkward but soothing manner, an action that felt familiar but she couldn’t quite place. His little hands gripped her tighter until he was practically holding on for dear life, repeating the action of patting her back as well.

It felt strange to be touched so willingly. Angel was the only one who had ever felt inclined to come within five feet of her without it being to step around her or not even realizing she was there in the first place. Though strange, it wasn’t entirely unwanted. Perhaps she was touch starved after so long even though the most Angel ever did was hold her hands or place his hand on her shoulder from time to time.

Just when she was getting used to the feeling, the egg in her arms stiffened, shuddered, and jumped from her lap. “Boss man is calling us back now! Bye-bye, Mama!” He waddled back the way he’d come, the rest of his look-alikes doing the same. She waved back at him even though his back was to her and he couldn’t possibly have seen it.

“Fine, keep this revolting travesty of territory while you can! I’ll be back for it!” Pentious was shouting at the demoness, the silver whistle clenched tightly in the fist he shook in her direction, his blazer tattered with fairly large holes and half his face covered in the scarlet smoke. He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he slithered off after his retreating minions and disappeared around a corner.

“Yeah, you better run, you burnt ass shit!” the woman called after him despite the fact he was already gone.

The other demons on the street didn’t take the chance of them coming back, leaving with their tails between their legs and a surprising amount of injuries to tend to. The only ones left on the street now were Angel, his female companion, and Ottilie, who was still hidden out of sight. If it had just been Angel by himself, she might have immediately run over to him, but she didn’t know or trust this woman who seemed to be rather proficient with bombs.

Angel walked back over to the one eyed demon as she brushed the dirt off of her clothes and he shook the yolk off his bat, a few of the nails either missing now or bent at a different angle than they had been. “You okay?”

The woman scoffed and flicked a lock of hair out of her face. “That pansy ass bitch wishes he could lay a hand on me!” He laughed boisterously along with her as he ran his own hand through his hair, picking a few egg shells out in the process. “What were you doing around here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in therapy or some shit at your fancy, smancy hotel?”

“We went through all that this mornin’,” Angel rolled his eyes as she snickered at him. “Besides… I was lookin’ for somebody.”

“Oooooo,” she taunted, poking him in the side repeatedly. “Did your boyfriend run off on you?”

It was Angels turn to scoff now. “No one runs out on this gorgeous mug!” His head turned down as his expression shifted to a mixture of anger and sadness. “I’m lookin’ for a gal pal.”

“Huh,” the woman said in surprise, not used to seeing him pull such an expression. “Well… I hope you find her.”

Angel offered her a half smile. “Thanks, Cherri.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she playfully punched him on the arm. “I’d best be heading off. Turf to watch over and all that bullshit.”

“Break a leg out there, kid,” Angel returned the action.

The two said their goodbyes and headed off in opposite directions, Cherri heading away and Angel coming towards Ottilie. Her eyes widened and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She hadn’t seen him since a month prior and here he was walking in her direction, that familiar sway in his hips following each stride of his long legs, his steps just as quick as she remembered. Each second brought him closer and closer until he was right in front of her hiding place and then walking past it in the next. She wondered why she hadn’t stepped out yet or at least called out to him, but then she felt that pang of fear blossom in her chest. She wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to say to him. She hadn’t exactly said goodbye to him or even told him she had been fired and had run off like a coward. Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away, knowing now wasn’t the time to wallow in her emotions like she had been. Now was the time for action.

Angel was a good ways away from her when she stepped out from behind the wooden crates that had acted as her shield, paused for a second, and started after him. Her steps were slow at first before turning into a light sprint and then escalating into a full on run. She was surprised to find that she didn’t stumble or trip on the concrete as she raced after him, his form getting closer and closer until he was only a mere ten feet away.

Realizing there was a noise behind him that sounded like the familiar sound of heels, he turned just in time to see a blur of blue and purple before it came crashing into him. He stumbled back a few steps as slender arms wrapped around his waist and a head buried itself just beneath his chest. “Whoa! What the Hell?” He looked down and saw a familiar head of curly lavender colored hair, his eyes widening at the sight. “Ottilie?”

*****

Angel placed a hot cup of tea in front of Ottilie before taking his seat at the table, the coffee shop they’d gone to quiet but a bit chatter going on around them. She quietly thanked him and started placing cubes of sugar into the streaming drink, stirring the contents once they were soft enough to get her spoon through. He took a sip of his smoothie while she did that same with hers and he looked at her like she’d grown a third head. “I still don’t see how you do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, looking up from her cup.

“Drink that boiling hot shit before it even has a chance to cool,” he shook his head as he dipped his finger in the whipped cream that topped his drink and licked it off. “My mouth would be burning right now.”

“I like the heat,” she shrugged as she wrapped her hands around the bottom of the mug, cupping it as the warmth spread through her gloves into her skin. “It feels nice.”

“Whatever floats your root beer.” He took another drink from his cup, this one longer than the last, like he was trying to avoid what he wanted to say next. When he finally pulled the straw away from his lips, he set the cup back down on the table and leaned back casually in his chair, top left arm draped over the back and his other hands placed in his lap with his legs crossed. “So… you workin’ anywhere else?”

She knew this would come up eventually and what it would lean up to, but was still widely unprepared for it. “No. I’ve been looking, but there doesn’t seem to be anything available. At this rate, I won’t be able to keep my home.”

He looked at her worriedly. “How long will you be able to stay there?”

“The end of the month,” she replied somberly.

“Ottilie… that’s three days away,” he pointed out. It was odd to hear him call her by her name. He’d only ever called her names like ‘toots’, ‘dollface’, and other things.

“I know.”

He growled in frustration and, had it been anyone else, she would have thought it was directed at her. “You should have just come to me instead of making me hear it from some low life stage hand and run back to the dressing room only to find you gone! I would have fought like Hell to keep you on!”

She looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Of course! No one knows how to do my makeup or measurements like you do!” he said a little too loudly, turning a few heads. She looked less surprised now. “This new dame they got can’t even get a seam straight and whenever she’s doin’ me up, she keeps pokin’ me in the eye and smearin’ on shit like she’s bakin’ a cake! If I have to go into a shot one more time with a bloodshot eye, I’m gonna scream!”

“Oh, I see,” she said slowly, her fingers playing with the rim of her cup.

He noticed her actions and let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging with it. “Look… just… next time somethin’ like that happens… come to me, okay? You know I got your back, right?”

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she nodded, “Right.”

“Two of a kind?” he held out a pinky.

“Birds of a feather,” she locked her pinky with his.

“Now and forever! Whee!” they said together in delight, throwing their hands in the air like a gleeful celebration.

“Hey, shut the Hell up!” someone called over to them.

“Up yours, ya schmuck!” Angel called back, turning around his chair so he could face the voice.

“Ah, go fuck yourself, drag show!” the voice demanded.

“Fuck me yourself, coward!” Angel shook his fist at them. Ottilie nearly choked on her tea as she went to take a sip, some of it dripping down her chin before she could reach for a napkin to wipe it off.

“I ain’t coming within a country mile of whatever you’ve got festering down there!” the voice laughed. Angel looked perturbed at that. “Why don’t you get a real job?”

“I got a real job for you right here!” Angel flipped him off and gestured to his crotch. The other man lost interest then and walked off. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned back around in his seat. “Tryin’ to me to get a job when I already-.” He paused and stopped mid sentence. An idea seemed to strike him and he smiled like a kid in a candy store. He reached across the table and grabbed her shoulders with one set of hands while the other kept him balanced on the flat surface. “Ottilie! I have a job for you!”

She looked up at him in confusion, her head tilting slightly in question. “You want me to give you a blowjob?”

“Wait, what? No!” he answered quickly. “Just come with me! I’ll take care of everything!”

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #charlie #alastor #vaggie #angel dust #husk #baxter #nifty #mimzy #ottilie #oc #not my original character #sagetheai #sir pentious #egg bois #love and what we do in its name

[travelightlivelight]

8.

Me again!

For the past few years, I’ve been taking every opportunity to travel that I could. Most notably, obviously, I was required by my major (Global Studies) to study abroad, and chose to spend five months in Costa Rica. Before this, I was saying yes to every travel opportunity in front of me, and doing my best to make every one of them happen. It’s been a blast, and I don’t regret a single penny spent. But that’s the thing— it wasn’t really all that many pennies.

A lot of people want to know how I’ve been doing it. Most of my student friends in their early twenties are absolutely perplexed at how I can just get up and go when I decide to. I will say that I’m very lucky to have friends and family who readily agree to watch my dog for free (shout out to my mom and dad, who are putting up with her for five entire months in their apartment right now), but other than that, I am very much the typical college student, with typical college student expenses. The past four and a half years of college have been supported by student loans, and my seasonal position at a zip line course in Boone does not, in fact, pay me tens of thousands of dollars to answer phones and ask Floridians to please stop yelling at me. 

Still, acquaintances are impressed. “I wish I could travel that much, your life looks so cool,” they say. First of all, you only think my life looks “so cool” because you only follow me on instagram & facebook. That’s a whole other post for a whole other day. My life is super regular, with a lot of time spent watching Netflix and painting my nails. Second of all, to me, my life is so cool. But that’s not because of luck, and not because I’m amazing at saving money, and not because I have a secret wealthy great-aunt paying my way. It’s because I’m realistic about what I can and cannot afford to do at my age, and because I’m careful about how I do things. So I’ve put together a very comprehensive guide to traveling on a budget, specifically when you’re young, broke, and adventurous.

So, without further ado, here are my favorite ways to travel, in a buzzfeed-friendly list format for your convenience.

1. Don’t expect luxury— 

     You’re a twenty-something college student or recent grad living with three roommates and  friends who roll their own cigarettes because “it’s cheaper.” You buy your groceries at Walmart, get paid hourly, and have called your landlord six times because your closet door falls on your head every time you open it. Nothing about your life is incredibly luxurious, so you shouldn’t expect your vacations to be either. Save that for a time in your life when your job comes with benefits and your house comes with doors that close all the way. You will, under no circumstances, be able to take yourself on vacations of the same caliber as that trip to Italy with your parents in 2005. Lower your expectations!! Life is more fun with a little adventure to it. Go with the flow for now, and wait your turn to be fancy.

2. Planes aren’t the only way to travel— 

     Get off of Delta’s website for a minute and take a deep breath. Remember that other forms of transportation exist. Buses are generally the cheapest, then trains, then planes. Trains and busses are just like slower airplanes, but they’re stupid easy to use (even in other countries), you don’t have to pay for the gas, and trains have bar cars with cheaper liquor than planes. So basically, your ride will feel about the same. You’ll run into the same problems as you do with planes, but if you’re traveling on a budget, give it some consideration. If you are traveling overseas or somewhere that’s just too far to take a bus or a train, there are some really cheap airlines (Southwest, Virgin, Spirit domestically, WOW to Europe, Ryanair within Europe) that are worth taking a look at. There are also tons of websites that offer airfare comparisons to help you find the cheapest possible flight. Don’t be afraid of layovers either-- flying direct can be a lot more expensive than just getting off of one plane and onto a different one.

     If you don’t have a specific destination in mind, choose one based on the price of transportation. This also goes for travel dates. If you don’t have to travel the week of Christmas, don’t. Ticket prices change based on how heavy travel traffic usually is on those particular dates. You can use apps/websites like Hopper, Wanderu, and Moovit to find the best prices for everything. 

     My favorite is Wanderu, because if you don’t have specifics in mind, you can click “Explore” and Wanderu will choose them for you based on what’s fastest and cheapest. All you have to do is specify where you’re traveling from. For example, just now I put in Raleigh, and Wanderu told me I could take a Greyhound bus to New York City tonight for $40, go by Amtrak train for $100 (which I have done before), or take the bus to DC for $29 in a couple of weeks. Wanderu rocks. Hopper tells you when the best time is to book a specific flight, as flight prices are constantly fluctuating, and Moovit will help you out a lot with local transit, wherever you are.

      While trains and busses aren’t the most luxurious, neither are planes. Trains generally have a lot more legroom, and busses are generally incredibly inexpensive. Both also often have WiFi. Make yourself a good playlist and suck it up! Or just steal one of mine here.

**Make sure you get your bus tickets ahead of time, especially if you’re traveling in a foreign country. In Costa Rica, they will continue to sell bus tickets even when the seats are full, so if you wait too long and have to get a ticket without a seat, you’ll end up either standing or spending six hours sitting on the steps by the back door, like I did. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but if you can avoid it, do.

3. When it comes to sleeping arrangements, be creative— 

     In your twenties, you can literally stay anywhere. You don’t have kids (probably) that you need certain accommodations for, you can still function if you’re up a little late, and your joints won’t be thrown all out of whack if your mattress isn’t made of angel dust and storm clouds. Take advantage of this. Just like planes aren’t your only option, neither are hotels. Hotels can get really pricey and the ones that aren’t can be really skeevy. This is probably the best and most important advice I could give any young person who wants to travel frugally: Try something more geared toward your age group before you rent a scary ass room in a paid-by-the-hour motel.

If you want privacy, rent an Airbnb. You can find some for really cheap, depending on where you want to stay, and you can decide whether you want to share it with others, stay with the host, or have the whole place to yourself. I’ve never had any bad experiences with other people staying in the same Airbnb (honestly, I have done nothing but meet some really cool people this way), and the hosts and hostesses are probably renting out their spare rooms because they want you there. They are generally very cool people. Some even allow pets if you’re traveling with a furry friend! 

     Keep in mind that your Airbnb will be a little more expensive than the list price once the cleaning fee is factored in, but not by much.

My current favorite way to spend nights away from home is in hostels. The last hostel I stayed in cost $17 for two nights, and the management moved us to our own room when they realized we were two girls that were about to stay in a 10 bed dorm with 8 guys we’d never met. People who own and manage hostels are used to young travelers being their main clientele, so they pretty much know what to expect, and can also point you in the direction of some age (and budget)-appropriate things to do nearby.

     A lot of hostels also have a common area with a kitchen that you can use (for when you have a pasta-with-butter budget instead of a this-cool-sushi-spot-I-heard-about budget), along with big dorm rooms, smaller dorm rooms, and private rooms. The less beds in the room, the more expensive your reservation will be. I’ve found some super cheap and really cool hostels with Hostelworld. Keep in mind, though, if you’re staying in a city, the closer to downtown you are, the easier it will be to get around. Don’t settle for something super cheap but far away from where you need to be just to save money, because you’ll probably just spend it on public transportation instead. Finding sleeping accommodations is all about balance between price, safety (!!!), and accessibility. Read reviews of the hostel itself and of the surrounding area before you make a commitment.

     Some of the most interesting people I have ever met, I’ve met in hostels. Generally speaking, the people you’ll meet in hostels are in pretty much the same situation as you— young, adventurous, and on a budget. They know just as few people in town as you do, and are always willing to swap travel stories, hang out, and even explore the town or city with you. At the last hostel I stayed at in Jacó, Puntarenas, Costa Rica, we met people from all over Europe and Canada, hung out and swam with them at the hostel, and went out drinking and dancing with them that night. We got really lucky, because they were cool enough to watch out for us and make sure we got back okay, but don’t ever plan to be stood up for. Definitely meet new people and get the word out that not all of us Americans are terrible and obnoxious (a surprising thing for a lot of international travelers to learn), but make sure you know where your friend is. Remember, meeting new people is cool; leaving your friends or going off with strangers is not. But do be adventurous, meet new people, and learn all you can from them. Travel can be some of the best education, and the people you meet while traveling can be the best teachers.

Last but not least, don’t be afraid to camp! The US has KOAs (Kampgrounds of America) ALL over the place. KOA is a campground chain with mini cabins that already have beds/sinks/kitchens/bathrooms (depending on which one you rent), sections for parking RVs and campers, and regular tent-camping sites with electricity plug-ins, grills, and  fire pits. The KOA is super affordable, and I once lived at the one in my college town, in my tent, with my best friend and my dog while we were between leases. The KOA has clean bathrooms and clean showers, and a little store from which you can get basic groceries, toiletries, and camping supplies. The KOA is pet friendly as well, and the staff has been really kind and accommodating at the KOAs I’ve been to. Of course, you can also camp at regular campgrounds, but I can’t say anything specific about these as they’re all different. Keep in mind, though, you can’t just camp anywhere! It’s usually illegal just to set up a campground wherever you feel like, and you can literally never know whether you’re on someone’s property. KOAs tend to be well lit, and in my experience, fairly safe, so I’ll stick to recommending this one. If you don’t have to look like the Queen of England every day of your trip, definitely consider a campsite like the KOA. 

4. Choose & book excursions wisely— 

     Don’t fall victim to showy advertising. Just about every tour everywhere claims to be the “best way to see” this, that, and the other. Make sure you check out Tripadvisor or something similar before you commit to spending your money on something you could have done for way cheaper, or even for free. TripAdvisor not only offers reviews on popular tourism spots, but also has general forums about pretty much every destination under the sun. Use it!!

     Tourist traps exist everywhere so make sure you do your best to identify them. A lot of national parks offer private tours, when you could take yourself around and see just as much if you know where to look. Don’t pay the extra $30 for the photos unless it was the best experience of your life. If you can, ask locals what the best way is to experience or see a certain thing. They will almost never point you in the direction of the most expensive, english-named, tour company, but instead tell you the actual best and cheapest way of doing something.

     Some things are just, unavoidably, tourist things to do. I took an ATV tour through the jungle last week that I’m sure no local would have suggested to me, but I looked through Viator for an hour or so first to find the most affordable and highest rated one. Chances are, if you see an ad for something cool, there are fifteen more companies selling the exact same experience. The first one you come across is usually the most expensive! Check reviews, prices, and what is and isn’t included before you book. 

     Also, it’s almost always cheaper to book directly through the company offering the service. While it’s easier to book online, or through something like Viator, it’s usually best to call the company directly to book your excursion. Booking websites and platforms charge a convenience fee, which is how they make their money and why they allow these companies to be advertised on their website. My old job booked through a platform called Fareharbor, which, while easy and quick to do online, charged the customer a convenience fee each time it was used. There’s nothing wrong with this, but it’s good to know.

     These four things (not expecting luxury, utilizing different forms of transportation, being creative when it comes to accommodations, and choosing/booking excursions wisely) are the four biggest tips for traveling frugally. My last weekend trip cost me $10 in transportation, $17 for sleeping arrangements, and $65 for an awesome excursion (But I could have just as easily gone without it, only spending $27 on a weekend at the beach). These are the big money savers, but there are a few smaller things you can do to save even more money during your travels:

-Resist hawkers— whatever they’re selling can come from a local grocery store or literally anywhere else for so much cheaper than they’re trying to sell it to you. They’ll try every trick in the book to get you to forget this.

-Don’t buy yourself things from souvenir shops— these shops are designed specifically for tourists, meaning they are way more expensive than they need to be. A souvenir from Madrid doesn’t have to say Madrid on it— you’ll remember where you got whatever it is, especially if you found something really cool in an out-of-the-way marketplace you happened upon in your travels. You wouldn’t spend all your money in a Wings Plus at the beach, would you?

-Look for the locals— if there aren’t any eating in that restaurant, or shopping in that store, skip it. Locals have to eat and shop somewhere, so find out where this goes on, and go there. This is the best way to avoid tourist traps, and also the best way to experience culture like a local.

-Talk to people— Aside from the people trying to sell you things and strangers catcalling you on the street, talk to people! They can tell you where to go and what to do without wasting your money. Whether you talk to other travelers (pick someone without jorts and keens on for best results) or locals, everyone has something to say. Everyone wants to give you a bit of sage advice, so break your mom’s rules and talk to strangers. Just don’t go anywhere with them.

     So there you have it. My expert guide to travel! I’m very lucky to be in a place where travel is so cheap and where I speak the language, and I’m lucky to have friends all over the US reminding me of their open invitations for me to come visit. Travel definitely does involve a little bit of luck, but with my handy little guide, hopefully you’ll be able to make some luck of your own. If I forgot anything, or if you know some tips I don’t, feel free to shoot me a message on literally any platform (Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram), or my submit box here on Tumblr. 

Happy traveling!

Other than that, there’s no bananas.

----V

#travel #travel guide #budget #budget traveling #travel tips #travel hacks #KOA #Kampgrounds of America #Hopper #Moovit #Hostelfinder #Airbnb #Wanderu #student travels #study abroad #study abroad veritas #study abroad costa rica #Costa Rica #San José #Central America

[slovenlyrecordings]

A ton of reviews just in courtesy of Terminal Boredom (they still hate 10" records):

ANMLS s/t LP Chilean street punko's who love to shout together - a lot and often. Reminiscent of 80's Spanish language boot-stompers Cicatriz, Eskorbuto and the like, but with added filth-blown guitars that are left tryna' cut through layers of amp cone dust and a seeping to the surface 70's rock cockpunch. The hardcore leanings and gang vocals calm a tad as the sides play on and I'm starting to hear echoes of John Reis riffage in the aptly titled "Instrumental" and the flip's opener, "V'amanos De La Ciudad". Thanks to "Pirata" they practically give you an Oi anthem at the end. Sort of a shock to see Slovenly head in this direction, as I'd expect the band to hook up with Lengua Armada, Sorry State or some other stateside stable of cellar dwellers. Is Ruleta Rusa still active? These cats should team up with them for a US stretch. Either way, I have no real knowledge of international hardcore (outside of Italy), so I'm gonna' shut up now and let you dig in on your own.(RSF)

The Cavemen "Nuke Earth" LP "Nuke Earth" is the third time these sleaze-Zealanders have been found rifling through the rubbage bins of garage shock past to toss a full platter. The best tracks within float to the surface - kinda' like pull tabs or smoke butts floating in the fetid water of a gas station squeegee bucket - and scramble about, attempting to create something along the line of a budget-punker's K-Tel collection. These cavemanish boys crank things off with "Lust For Evil" a tune that's got one boot planted firmly in the Oblivians camp and the other can be found kicking the 'Tards squarely in the gonads. Leather-jacketed riff warriors, hopped up on CPC (get it?!) and unleashing dueling leads and hostile vibes aplenty. "Janey" lightens things a tinge with some boozy balladry and organ rottens the rock during tunes like "Batshit Crazy" and "Concrete Town" in a way that could bring both Lost Sounds lovers, Spits fanatics and tattooed MCD car-show greasers lovingly together for a sock hop. Duster-huffers will rejoice to the dum-dum Dictator clunk of "Chernobyl Baby" and "Thug" which reeling in a meaty Gizmos/Penetrators spew. "Dont Wanna Hang" strips veneers in guitar frazzle and New Bomb Turk velocity. It's like having the Las Vegas Shakedown start up again, right there on your very own turntable! The parts may be aftermarket, but there's gonna' be some paunchy yet pleased turkeys around these forums real soon. (RSF)

ぐうたら狂 Gūtara KYŌ s/t 10” Damn, this here is a firecracker! What lies within these grooves are obliterated Teengener-ized riffs, and demented psycho-wails, all walloping upside the punk velocity of something akin to prime 80's Gauze. "Drive" got a lead that's reminiscent of a garage slop take of an old Soundgarden tune (I'm dead serious!) and it's pokin' out of a deteriorating Stalin bootleg. "Daydream" and "It's Gotta Be You" ride along hardcore gallops, rendered futile due to some of the gnarliest production filth since Tim Kerr was knob twisting. The shining light in all this scree would be the soulful belter "Romance" that kicks off the flip. This gold star doom rocker features strained crooning and a truly putrid solo that's - of course - blown all to snuff. It wouldn't feel outta' place on that 'Tokyo Flashback' sampler at all. Fo' real tho' - this platter could clear the sinuses of the most jaded of High Rise fan. Hell, Gutara Kyo is good enough to make me overlook the fact these songs are pressed up on the lamest of all formats (the dreaded 10") with a goddamn dumb 45 hole. Hey Pete, knock it off! All snark aside, I'd still tell folks to buy this, even if it was only available on floppy disc. Scum Stats: 100 copies pressed up on red and black splatterwax.(RSF)

Hand & Leg s/t LP Greek duo doing their best impersonation of that gluey/Krauty/fuzz-buzzy sound that the French has dominated for the past decade. This co-ed bass and drums act strips their music down to the bleached bone, leaving the sorta' repetitive weed-wacker chops and threadbare beats that Wire fans should froth over. Standout tracks like "Dogshit Country" lighten the low plod load a smidge, letting the high strings shine as if Godheadsilo was taking on a Volt tune. "Bloody Hole" closes us shop in a full two minutes of tone drone and irritated wail before the "song" proper takes flight within a spattered cacophony of pie-plate thwack and chanted vocals. Soothing to one's skull as This Heat. Dig yer feet in the sand, people. Scum Stats: 100 on clear vinyl.(RSF)

Häxxan "The Magnificent Planet Of Alien Vampiro II"" LP Nasally Israeli psych-boogie, for the moderne youth market. The press release mentions playing with Ty and them Fuzz comparisons are pretty on point in these here grooves. They also trot out bratty, childlike pop tantrums that should speak to the Burgerooligans that follow these updates as well. What you mostly get on this is quiet/loud dynamics pushing out a Black Angels/Frijid Pink hybrid. There's quite a bit of local flavor in their guitar pyrotechnics, so world-beat freaks and psych aficionados should perk up. Most of it makes for a fine fried background rock, but nothing is really sticking to my maw. A couple of tracks do stand out - "Circle Of Quantum" and "Snakes In My Hair" - both nearly seared my eyebrows off like the best moments of C.A. Quintet "Trip Thru Hell" with swirling, woozy leads and vocals lost in the arid desert wind. The whole ride is easy to digest and makes for decent afternoon accompaniment, but gotta' say I wanted more like those two aforementioned tracks. Better than the countless Ty & Dwyer clones we've had to weather so far. Better than the King Gizzard knock-offs to come. Let's just be happy today.(RSF)

Νόμος 751 (Nomos 751) s/t LP Electroshok-rockers that clatter along like a Grecian Metal Urbain. Drum machine robot riddims and twisted rockabilly riffs fighting against various space trash splatter and the occasional Spits-take on skate punk. There's a Grande Triple Alliance vibe rippling underneath that's hard to shake as well as more than a couple nods in the early Red Mass direction I use to enjoy (long before that act stank it up with Mac Demarco's hair-footed guest spots). I should ramble more about the tracks involved, but my janky-assed computer's 'bout to crash for yet another twenty minute interval - so I'm just gonna' go pogo about like some metaloid mutant instead. Give 'er a go!(RSF)

Proto Idiot "Leisure Opportunity" LP How the hell did the Hipshakes connection escape me?! Proto Idiot is way less Oblivian and way more Adverts than the 'shakes ever were. This here's a jagged pop-gone-puke to tunes like "Better Way Of Life" and "Angry Vision" - the sorta' stuff Jaytard did solo and that Useless Eater kid slung about. Comparisons to Devoto-era Buzzcocks seems apt, and there's a tad of 'Chairs Missing' up in here too. Honestly, either this is a love letter to the entire UK punker past catalog or I'm just an asshole who thinks so 'cuz of the English accent. Hey - it's the GG King Of The UK! Still, I'm perplexed that I never knew the Hipshakes were related. I'm bad at this game. I'd way rather party with this Proto Idiot than those stuffy shirted Protomartyr's out there. Good Fun. 'Nuff said. Scum Stats: 100 on green vinyl.(RSF)

Subsonics "Flesh Colored Paint" LP In this time of reunions around the corner for every wang-dang-doodle of a band that falls under the Budget Rock blanket, it shocks me to no end that Atlanta's Subsonics have never even given up. I've evidently been in the dark for nearly a decade (Sorry Slovenly/Sorry Subsonics.) as "Flesh Colored Paint" is their eighth full length. The band continues to do what they do best - muggy southern stomp filtered through Marc Bolan flutter and a Cramps-ian cha-cha heel strut. This sorta' glitter shimmer fits snugly nestled in the crotch region, somewhere between American Death Ray, Danny & The Darleans and so on. They've always been in my peripheral and I've witnessed them bring quite a solid live revue in my times, but they've never seemed tough enough to break me during my boozy-fueled heyday. NOW - on the other hand - being older, wiser and actually warming up to the voice of Brian Ferry - this stuff is pretty damn sharp! I'm fully locked down on the track "Begging Hands" here, which proves beyond any doubt that these swingers are as big of fans of Radley Metzger's 'Score' skinflick as I am. Elsewhere they beat on the traps like a Black Time light, less set on grate and more on the grind. "Die A Little", "Cold Cold World" and "In The Black Spot" ride in the Velvet's lil' Reed wagon, possibly playing at the wrong pitch. "I Must Be Poisoned" and "I'm The Most Popular Boy In Town" are cut from the same girl group worship and sequenced catsuit that Kid Congo stitches together with his Pink Monkey Birds. "Permanent Thaw" fires off that Black-Angels-Death violin scrape along its woozy train track clack and tunes like "Why Should Anybody Care At All" feature squirrelly, ragged soloing, as if front-mouth and string-slinger Clay Reed was dry humping his gee-tar on the studio floor (and chances are, he did). A good party platter for the red eyed sect. Now while we're at it, let's wax up them early WorryBird CDs!(RSF)

The Monsieurs "Deux” LP Knowing how much I loved Tunnel Of Love - one of the finest bombastic blowouts to cross my blurred vision in the early aughts - I feel like a lamestain for sleeping on this act for so long. Well, I fixed that over the past few months. Here I am, warming by the fire during this wintry bluster and ingesting another fine Andy MacBain release. Between this stuff and the Andy California EP, he's keeping Slovenly's Gladiators on the garbage rock radar (not that they ever really fell of it in the first place). The opener "Burning Flame" and "I Will Run" are straight up crash/bang shards of garage violence and if you said to me these were lost Tunnel Of Love tracks, I wouldn't argue it one bit. Things chill and take pop-ier turns within tunes like "Suburban Girls" and "At The Hop". Not saying cutesy levels of pop, but there's a definite whaff of catchy albeit retched perfection ala' Nobunny or Ramones girl group grabs. The femmes on deck keep Andy's cock-swingin' machismo at bay, adding great touches of Toody-esque back ups, forceful fuzzed power chords and abusive can bashing. "Get Right Get Ready" is rears a Karp riff and shoves it, clawing smack into the face of some delirious Dollrod slop. That's not a bad place to be - crawling around in a metallic Danny Kroha muck. Wrapping this fast lil' fucker up is "My War", which brings all the above elements to a broil, splattering about like a scorched Love cover turned beat-punk brat psych and going gloriously wrong. A wooly ride. Will ride again. Scum Stats: 100 copies on orange.(RSF)

#ANMLS #The Monsieurs #Proto Idiot #Subsonics #Haxxan #Hand And Leg #Hand & Leg #Nomos 751 #gutara kyo #The Cavemen NZ #Terminal Boredom #album review #Slovenly Records #slovenly recordings #punk #garagepunk #album #vinyls #punkrock #synthpunk #Νόμος 751 #ぐうたら狂

[authorbrianknight-blog]

My Favorite Gadget

Here’s a blast from the past, written when I was a part of author David Wilson’s Storytellers Unplugged.  It’s about the beginning of my enduring love of gadgets.  It’s all a bit dated now.  My gadgets have evolved since writing this.  I have even written a 100K length novel on a tablet (now my grandson’s favorite toy).

I have also changed my mind regarding Apple products and software.  Everything I own is Apple now.

I have not changed my mind about most of the Lewis/Clark Valley’s radio stations.

My Favorite Gadget

If you’ve read the after-word to my novella 1200 AM Live you’ll know my opinion of my local AM and FM radio stations.  For those who haven’t read the aforementioned piece, I’ll give you the short version.

I fucking hate it.

Local radio in the Lewis/Clark Valley is mostly country, which makes me angry if I’m forced to listen to more than a few minutes, or worse, top 40.  I’m not sure which I hate more, a song where even the guitars sound like they’re whining, or a song with a computerized beat and auto-tuned vocals.  Top 40 is the new disco, in my humble opinion, and country is the new … well, country.

There are a few light muzak stations, and a few rock stations, but the only good (IMO) rock station is broadcast from the city of Spokane, which is over a hundred miles to the northwest, and can only be heard clearly from the roofs of this city’s taller buildings on clear and windless days.

For a few years I contented myself by listening to talk radio instead, but too much of that fosters bizarre personal and political opinions, so I gave up listening to talk radio.  I think it was a good choice, like giving up meth or public masturbation.

For the past four or five years I’ve eliminated my dependency on local radio with a miracle of modern micro-technology called an MP3 player.  I load this wonderful little device with music of my own choosing and an audio book or two, and I’m set.  It’s very liberating, not having my ears held hostage by smarmy DJs and music that, quite frankly, makes me feel like hitting people.

I loved these new gadgets so much and used them so extensively that I wore them out.  Any new MP3 player I purchased, no matter the brand or model, had a three to four-month life expectancy.  I could almost predict the week when my current MP3 player would finally bite the dust and would start comparison-shopping in advance.

For a long time my wife tried to convince me to buy an iPod, the Cadillac of MP3 players, and I resisted for two reasons.  The first reason was price.  Those little bastards are expensive, so why spend so much when I could almost count on wearing it out in the space of a few months.  The second, and to me more powerful argument against the iPod is that I hated Apple software.  Every piece of Apple software I ever attempted to use seemed to slow down or crash my computer.  Why in the hell would I spend so much money on a product that would probably crash my computer ever time I plugged it in before it finally wore out in three or four months?

Eventually she talked me into it.

I bought an iPod Nano, which worked flawlessly for two years before my wife bought me my new third generation iPod Touch.  The Touch was a Christmas present, and is the coolest, most useful little gadget anyone has ever given me.

The old Nano is still in use.  My oldest daughter has had it for three months now, and it still works just fine.

Truthfully, I thought the Touch was overkill.  It’s a fantastic gadget, but much more than I required for simply playing music or audio books in my car or work truck.

There was just no way I’d ever use even half the features this new toy had to offer.

Then I discovered the wonderful world of applications.  Evidently there are several million applications available to install on this little gadget, many free, most only a few dollars.

I must admit that very few are of any real interest to me.  I’m not a gamer or a social bug.  I don’t want to turn my iPod into a small hand-held heater (yes, there is an application for that), or keep 24/7 tabs on all my Facebook friends.  I’m a driver during the day and a writer on nights and weekends.  My iPod keeps me entertained while driving during my working life.  I thought it would be severely cool if I could somehow use it to write.

As it turns out, there is an application for that too. No shit!

There are probably more than one, but the one I use – I’m using it now, actually – is called My Writing Nook.  It is a cool, and extremely useful little program.  It auto-saves as you work, has an optional auto-correct function that is actually pretty good, and thanks to the third generation iPod Touch’s wi-fi capability, you can email your work to your desktop or laptop computer with the touch of a virtual button.  You can also create your own workspace on My Writing Nook’s website and sync your documents in progress.

This is an excellent tool for writers.

Recently, my wife’s favorite gadget, her mucho expensive touch screen laptop, took a dump on her.  Since she hasn’t had a desktop computer for a few years now, she didn’t have a second machine to fall back on.

I have a laptop too, a tiny little thing about the size of a hardcover book, that I do all my writing on.  Unlike her, I insist on keeping a desktop computer too, but I don’t like writing with it.  I do all my writing on the laptop and everything else, including editing, on the desktop.

Since my wife’s computer is FUBAR, she is now using my little laptop.

Have I gone back to writing on my desktop computer?

He’ll no.

I’m using the iPod for that now, and thanks to my wireless network, and My Writing Nook, transferring my work to the desktop computer for editing is actually easier.

You might imagine that writing anything more extensive than, say, a shopping list would be a pain in the ass with the iPod’s tiny little screen and keyboard, but that’s not the case.  I got used to it remarkably fast.  I still have to copy and paste my work into Microsoft Word, and there is a bit of formatting and extra editing involved in incorporating your output into your word file, but not as much as you might think.

If the My Writing Nook people could incorporate some simple formatting options and a more powerful spellchecker into the program, it would be just about perfect.

With a cost of $1.99 for the iPod application, and no cost at all to use the Writing Nook web page, I can’t complain too much.

Now my favorite gadget is my most useful one.

Book of the day:

BROKEN ANGEL

Fiction: Novel, Horror Digital Price: $3.99 Print Price: $15.95 Print Length: 342 pages Publisher: Tulpa Books (2018) Purchase Digital: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, Google Play Purchase Print: Amazon, Barnes & Noble

She was a mystery from the start.

They found her at a roadside diner outside the small Idaho town of Clearwater, drugged and abandoned, with no memory of who she is or where she came from.

But was she a miracle?

She inspires violence with her presence, madness with a touch. As her health improves and her memories return, the hot Clearwater summer becomes increasingly strange and violent. Insanity infects the small town, a shadowy figure lurking in the woods deals death, and no one is safe.

“Knight is a writer to watch.” Ellen Datlow, editor of Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror.

My Favorite Gadget was originally published on The Fiction of Brian Knight

#Music #Reading #Technology #Writing