#[ no he does NOT want this in main verse ]

[cosmicheartz]

Runaway Narinder aus are a rlly fun concept but I’m surprised I haven’t seen one where Lamb just doesn’t particularly care that he’s gone.

Usually the Lamb is like obsessed with Narinder and doesn’t let him leave and when he does they try to find him again and bring him back to the cult ( and I’m not rlly any different bc with my other lamb Maveths main canon he is actively searching for Narinder after his escape )

[iobartach]

[staticintone]

This is what RAM Alastor wants to hear from Vox.

[kitxkatrp]

"I have come to the scientific conclusion that all women are varying degrees of insane."

[lovecolibri]

Anyway,

[noxianwilled]

hopping here to continue the sg posting by saying kat and draven were on the same team and they were besties and then shit went down and one of their teammates betrayed everyone and pinned it on kat and here we are

[normaltothemax]

"Sup Hood!" Yes that would in fact appear to be a Robin hanging upside down on a fire escape. Big shit eating grin and purposefully angled so he hasn't quite crossed into Crime Alley. About three inches to the left and he'd be over the invisible boarder. He absolutely knows what he's doing. "How's life?" ((I have no idea at what point in time this is happening, go wild))

Don’t move. Don’t react. Don’t so much as twitch in the little shit’s direction. That’s exactly what he wants, and Jason does not want to give it to him. But Robin is here, he’s in Crime Alley where little birdies absolutely should not be, and Jason can’t let him think for a second that that’s allowed. He breathes out slowly through his nose, turns his head to stare at Robin through the lenses of his expressionless helmet. Opens his mouth to snap at him, only for it to click shut again as his eyes narrow. Would you look at that? Robin’s not technically in Crime Alley. Not by a scant few inches.

Little. Shit.

Scowling, fingers twitching near one of his guns but not yet touching—he won’t kill him, he’s past that phase, Jason just wants to maybe shoot him in the leg a little. Somewhere nonlethal that’ll get his message of stay the fuck away from my territory across loud and clear—he bites back a growl. “Replacement.” It still stings, knowing Bruce let some other kid put on the tights, take Jason’s place (and it burns, knowing that he can’t even be as pissed about it as he wants to be, because Jason was technically the first replacement, that he did to Dick what Tim is now doing to him). “What do you want?”

@arobinwithoutbatman

[medicinemane]

One big mistake people make is deciding that because someone they don't like enjoys something, that mean the something is bad

Easy example from my own life, Max who I'm no longer friends with and just... there were elements of a decent person in there once, but I don't think so anymore... anyway, Max likes Infected Mushroom

So my dad and my Mr Dumbass of a friend decided that Infected Mushroom is a bad band and it's like...

Mr Dumbass, you've been to a concert of there's with me and Max and another person (didn't care for the way the venue did things), you like them or at least have liked them... I'm pretty sure you introduced them to Max

They didn't become a bad band magically because one idiot likes them

Like people just lose the ability to judge things on merit when there's a chance to shit on something that someone they don't like enjoys and... it mostly screws you over and makes you look like a fool, you know?

So try not to do that, try not to shit on something just cause someone you don't like likes it

[sansloii]

❛ You keep looking over here like there’s something funny. ❜ Hibiko @ Andris

Because you're funny.

Out of context, he's sure that sounds quite rude. In context, it… still might be a bit rude. However, it's not as though his intention is to purposefully find something about her that amused him. It just… happened. Casual, idle glances over to her reveals little tells and even subtler cues that told him where her mind is at a given moment, if it's not already painfully obvious. She wasn't always so forthcoming and there have been a couple times where he's been wondering about what was going on in her head… but that much was natural.

“I've only looked over twice, Princess.” he says — a lie but he pretends it's not. He's quickly glanced over a handful of times, too. “ — And both times, it was when you were speaking.”

“If you'd like, I could keep my eyes averted when you say something.” The blond's lips are quick to curve upwards in a slightly teasing manner. “I'd find it a little funny if I had to but if my gaze bothers you so much, far be it from me to subject you to it.”

Unprompted | @royaletiquette

[troublcmakcrs]

//tweek trying to kill craig is a universal constant btw

[kurthorton-moving]

tell me why i just almost said "i wanna make a solo blog for kurt"

[despairforme]

It was going on day - well, night three of crappy, rainy weather accompanied by a drastic drop into freezing temperatures. Earlier it had been warm enough that her work shirt and jeans were causing Roxy to sweat, but now, she was shivering, soaked to the bone from both the sweat and rain as she tredged forward through the elements. At least if it's gonna be this cold, snow, don't rain. She cast a bitter glare at the clouds above, as if the weather could hear her thoughts or cared even if it could.

A helpless, plain white business envelope shoved into an otherwise empty plastic bag crinkled against the interior of Roxanne's shirt as she gripped it tightly to her chest. A very late, last addition to Nnoitra's birthday present, or an early Christmas present, whichever worked better. On the exterior of the envelope bore a large N accompanied by the black haired, eye patch wearing stick figure, signed with a calligraphied R. She figured she'd used up all her luck for the next month - no, the next year - just getting the envelope's contents, she wasn't taking her chances of having anyone notice it and being mugged on her way to give it to him. She crept down dark alleyways, past piles of broken glass and carelessly discarded cans as she gingerly made her way across town. Thankfully it was a short walk, and being past midnight, no one in their right mind would be out in this weather at this time willingly. Nobody in their right mind, she repeated to herself with a hint of amusement.

"O-Okay bub," She chattered, voice barely above a whisper as she approached the now somewhat familiar door. "I worked my ass off for these, and I'm gonna lose what's left of my tits to this cold, so you better fuckin' like this."

Hunching over the bag gripped tightly to her sternum, she carefully unzipped through layers of coats and jackets before finally reaching the original shirt she'd been wearing and removing the itchy plastic bag from against her skin. With almost too firm of a grasp, she took hold of the envelope, inspecting it carefully to be sure it was still well sealed shut and dry, then gingerly wedged it into the doorframe as high up as she could reach. That was about eye height for him, right?

"F-fuck me, I hate winter." She muttered to herself as she hurriedly zipped back up her numerous jackets. "S-see ya around, I hope," She spoke up towards the direction of the door, as if it would respond to her. "It would be n-nice to catch up here soon. It's been way too long, I know, but I hope that you're-..."

Roxanne's train of thought suddenly came to a dead halt. The Nnoitra she remembered would usually scoff at her well wishings, no matter how genuine or not. Wishes were for kids, she nagged herself, and they sure as hell weren't kids anymore. Tucking her head to her chest as she shivered harshly, Roxanne instead buried her reddened nose in the front collars of her jackets as she felt the cold biting at her face.

"...Come see me at work." She continued with a sniffle and pulled her arms in from her sleeves, pinning them against her torso for warmth. "You can have all the cheap cheeseburgers you can eat and management can cry about it. I don't care enough about that job to fight them on it."

Roxanne turned away from the door, then paused for a moment to glance over her shoulder at the helpless envelope. It would be fine, right? Who the hell would notice it? It was damn near 3 in the morning, nobody was out... But what if someone did steal it? Or it blew away or got ruined by the rain? Then what? No good deed ever went unpunished in some way with her, but she couldn't stay here and watch it. Hypothermia doesn't seem like a fun way to die, she reminded herself. Looking around the empty stoop, then at the abandoned, flooded streets, she hesitated, glanced back at the envelope, then seemed to finally make up her mind as she exhaled a puff of steam and turned and jumped off the stoop, headed for home at last.

People could really suck, she told herself to get her attention off of her freezing extremities, but nobody ever has gotten anywhere by letting themselves sit around and pout about the unfairness of it all.

...

It was a small miracle the envelope made it overnight without getting so much as a droplet of water on it. Once opened, it contained two things: A piece of scrap paper with some scribblings on it, and tickets of some sort. The scrap of paper had one string of info on it; "McB's, M-F, 2-10 PM", and a drawing of the same fast food logo that had been on the previous bag she'd left him. That had to be where she worked, it seemed.

The tickets seemed to be to some sort of five day weekend music festival just a few towns over, a rock and metal based one it seemed based on the name. The "VIP" punched at the bottom was sure to imply something, but it couldn't be ascertained just what exactly from the vague abbreviations on the back of the ticket stubs. No doubt these had to have been expensive, and there were four of them.

...

Elsewhere, the cold mist of the morning was overtaken by the first few rays of sunlight as Roxanne lie practically comatose to the world, buried deep in a nest of blankets and pillows like a bear in hibernation. A deer stood just outside of her small yellow tent, helping itself to Roxanne's unattended box of wheaties as she blissfully snoozed the day away.

(@gildedgriffon)/(@serpent-of-feathers)

His hands were pink, borderline red from the cold. He'd lost feeling in them a couple of minutes ago. He would've kept them stuffed in his pockets, but he got paranoid as hell when he walked around without his hands at the ready. Especially at night. Especially through the shady part of town. Nnoitra had decided on a short-cut ( or rather, the rain had decided that for him ), which took him through some alleys that you'd best be prepared for a confrontation if you ventured into. There was ONE good thing about the weather ( and the fact that it was past 3 at night ) - there was nobody out. The only people Nnoitra passed were some tragic looking homeless people. Not that they should be underestimated. Who ever said a homeless dude couldn't try to shaft you? He shivered.

This was late for him to be going back home ( Ikkaku's place, was that really ' home '? ), even for him. His fight was always the main event of the evening, and saved for last. Normally it would be around midnight, maybe a little later. It would always be over quickly, simply because nobody stood a chance. Tonight's fight had gone smoothly. It wasn't HIS fault that he was walking home so late. Nah. There had been staffing issues at the bar. The new guy hadn't turned up, or - he HAD turned up, but he'd turned up in hospital, like some fucking jackass. Nnoitra didn't give a shit about that. There was nobody else who could step in, and so HE had been asked to man the bar. It was the last thing in the world he wanted, but at the same time... Grimmjow had worked there. Walked the steps behind the counter. Touched the glasses and bottles. Somehow, that had made Nnoitra unable to say no. He missed him. Missed him so much he thought it would fucking kill him any day. Pathetic, wasn't it?

In any case, he'd reluctantly accepted filling in for the night. He knew jack-shit about bar tending. That hadn't been a problem. The bar had been FILLED with people who were there just to talk to him. His ' fans ' or whatever. People who came every night only to watch him fight. Nnoitra liked that people admired him. However, after two hours of intense attention... He could say that he'd had MORE than enough. At least nobody cared that he was unable to mix up drinks. He wouldn't say it had been a BAD experience, but certainly exhausting. And he'd been unable to think about anything other than Grimmjow the whole time. To complete the night - he now had to walk home in the coldest rain in history. He felt pretty gloomy.

He might not be lucky with the weather, but at least he didn't get fucking JUMPED on his way home. He got back safely ( though drenched to the bone and freezing ). With numb fingers, he fished his ( Ikkaku's ) keys out of his pocket, struggling to unlock the door. Then he spotted something ON the door. It looked like someone had tried to push some paper in through the gap between the door and the doorframe. It looked like an envelope. For fuck's sake, didn't the mail-man know there was a fucking MAIL BOX right over there? Annoyed, Nnoitra yanked the envelope free. He assumed it was for Ikkaku - it wasn't. When he realized this, his annoyance immediately switched to curiosity. He RARELY got mail.

Back in his room, Nnoitra shook his head like a wet dog, his long hair splashing a little bit of water everywhere ( including his bed - he did not think that through ). His fingers were stiff from the cold, but he was too impatient to wait. He flopped down onto the bed, the mattress bouncing gently from the added weight. Nnoitra opened the letter.

It was probably because of his birthday present, that he quickly realized who this letter was from. The stick figure, the writing - this was from Roxanne. Nnoitra looked at the letters written on the scrap piece of paper. His tired brain TRIED to comprehend. WHY did she have to write in coded messages? The cogs in his head were struggling to turn. In the end, he really was too tired to even understand what the letters meant. He'd give it another try tomorrow ( or ask Ikkaku, who, unlike himself, was not fucking retarded ). He moved onto the other content in the envelope. Tickets. SEVERAL tickets. They were for a music festival in a neighboring city that Nnoitra had never been to. It was hard to miss the VIP-stamp on them. Even if he was tired ( and depressed as fuck ), he had to admit this intrigued him. Being a VIP on a music festival... He liked the thought of that. He had no idea what he'd do with four of them though... One was for Roxanne herself, of course, since she had gotten the tickets in the first place. Who else could he bring though? Nnoitra lay back in bed, still fully clothes in his wet pants and hoodie. Tomorrow... He was going to figure out the mysterious message... Yeah, tomorrow. / @serpent-of-feathers , @xx-gold-n-sunshine-xx .

[orangetintedglasses]

Trauma was a bit of a fickle thing— all-encompassing yet fleeting, there some days and gone others. A phantom of something so terrible that, if left unchecked, could warp you entirely and mold you into something else… sometimes unrecognizable from who you were before it had taken hold.

Is that what happened to Wolfwood after JuLai?

For all the man tried to present himself as this unflappable wall, immune to the rougher parts of the world as it currently was… he simply wasn't. Vash knew that. It was a tough front that the undertaker put between himself— between that wonderful heart of his, already so battered and bruised —and the rest of humanity… and sometimes, he lowered it just for Vash. He'd let him see just behind it, because he trusted the Plant enough to feel comfortable doing so…

… o-or…

No.

No, no, no, he can't think like that again. He can't. He can't—

Tears stung his eyes and threatened to choke him before Vash caught the anguish and cut it off at the source, letting that thousand-yard stare slowly start to creep back into his expression. It… it was necessary. It was, because it numbed the feeling of his heart splintering, tearing…

And that dulled the urge to run.

Vash didn't want to run.

"Okay." he said quietly, more of a breath than an actual word as he swallowed around the stone in his throat. "You said you needed help with your back, right…?"

As soon as Wolfwood said his excuse, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He can feel the way Vash is picking him apart; he feels the pinpricks of doubt, the bruise of concern, and the stabbing pain from being caught in a lie. Yes, of course there's more to it, but...

They need to work through things if they're going to be a team—if they're going to be this... whatever-they-are. Wolfwood is supposed to be the logical one, and yet here he is valuing his own sanity and Vash's emotions over the truth of the situation. When did he stoop so low? When did he throw away his values?

Who is he anymore?

Wolfwood's not sure he recognizes himself from the inside, and it takes Vash pointing out the flaw in his words for him to realize it. Knives tore his sense of self out and replaced it with fear—with a caged animal—as if he hadn't had issues with himself before.

Anyone would turn a gun on someone if their loved one is in danger, that's what he's always believed.

What stopped him back then? Why didn't he try harder to get Vash back?

His grip tightens before he backs up slightly, moving his hands to clutch Vash's shoulders in a manner that is meant to be soothing. By now, Wolfwood expects his very touch to bruise, to burn.

It's not any better when Wolfwood tries to speak at first—his throat feels dry and tight, resulting in an attempt that only amounts to a hoarse squeak. He clenches his jaw, his eyes seem to water and he's not sure whether it's the shower or a breakdown in the works.

"I... don't know what's wrong with me, Vash. That's the truth," he admits, choking on each word. His entire life is trauma—he's done terrible things for terrible people, and he's accepted that. Wolfwood has been tortured and experimented on and killed again and again only to wake up and be killed again—so why is this different? Why does guilt eat him from the inside like a parasite? Why is Vash so different?

"Some things seem to cause a response that I can't control—especially things you say, or... or the way you look at me sometimes." How does he solve a problem that isn't there? Something so invisible, a literal thought, that it's only present sometimes? "That's why I'm gonna tell you about what happened when you were... when you weren't there. In JuLai. I'll tell you what your... I don't know what to call it, I'll tell you what the version of you that Knives created did to me, and maybe that'll help."

He returns to hugging Vash, this time cradling the back of his head like something precious (because he is), before whispering, "It doesn't change what you are to me. Let's... just clean up first, and then we can get comfortable and I'll... I'll tell you what happened to me. All of it."

[momentsofamber]

The Scream fandom might absolutely jump down my throat for this, but it just occurred to me to tell all the Freaks and Weirdos (/affectionate) who follow me here that Scream has been one of my comfort fandom SpIns since middle school ('05-ish), and one of my more recent gateway ships into the proship community was one of my partners and I shipping Richie and Wes from Scream 5.

Like we had this AU where Wes was a teen sex worker lying about his age online and Richie (already in his 20's) had been following him for a little while and they got to talking one on one and bonding. Wes told Richie how old he really was and Richie was like 👀 HEY THAT'S EVEN BETTER. And then Richie's dad used his Police Power(tm) to help Richie kidnap Wes yandere style so that no one else could ever have him the way Richie does.

I was the one writing Richie for this rp. 😂

[acid-ixx]

(02/17/25) — again &. again masterlist

by the bird and the bee

ft. platonic soft! yandere batfam! x gn! neglected reader

✮ MAIN MASTERLIST ✮

— TRIGGER WARNINGS !

- lowercase writing, emotional neglect, allusions to sexual assault, prostitution & physical abuse, kidnapping, alcohol abuse, drugging, themes of depression, dissociation, vague traumatic events, mentions of murder, amnesia, other warnings would be added soon.

— SYNOPSIS !

who would have thought that living with your rich, billionaire father and endless supply of sisters and brothers would actually end up being the worst thirteen and a half year of your life?

when your mother was taken away from you at the ripe age of five, you were forced to live at the solemn wayne manor with nobody to accompany you but the butler, alfred pennyworth.

there, you learn that giving up was better than trying to gain the attention of your ever-growing family. so you left, and never once tried to look back at the decades of neglect they left you with.

but when alfred, your kind caretaker, had started leaving clues of your sudden disappearance; that's when they all take notice and then on starts the ultimate race of chasing freedom, and escaping what once was your gilded cage.

little did you know your mother's dark past manifests itself at the worst of times.

— CHAPTERS ! ; 48k+ words

00. — oh, please leave me be.

01. — because you only notice me once i'm out the door.

02. — and you don't even remember my face?

03. — i need a drink, away from everyone.

04. — mors tua, vita mea / your death, my life.

05 : 01. — a halo in the pit of darkness.

05 : 02. — to be his child is all i want.

— DRABBLES ! ; #series: again &. again

dick grayson calling you his baby bird

why now? (yan! damian wayne)

brutus (villain au concept)

brutus: out for blood

what if you were never neglected?

just a taste (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

laughter is the best medicine (yan! dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne)

to you, my greatest passion (non-neglected au-verse)

brutus: both arms cradle you now

bruce finding your graduation picture

how to be a heartbreaker! (yandere harem)

mea culpa (mini chapter)

conflicting comfort scene with jason todd

dialogue spoilers related to above drabble

more about jason todd and hurt/comfort

dick and his baby blue eyes

time travel au concept

sharing the same features with damian

brutus: the only fucked up thing in this world is you

cause you're takin' it like a champ, sweetheart! (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

brutus: just a burning memory (yan! conner kent)

young, just us?! (yan! young justice au)

that's my type! (yan! john constantine)

— ASKS ! ; #series: again &. again

dick's spiral into yandere-ism

leaving gotham, resenting alfred, changing last names

your mysterious identity &. conner being your love interest

dick seeing you as a child & damian's need to be your favorite

damian and his cool, matching bracelets

does dick close the door on you? nah, he doesn't even know you were behind the door

wally west as your love interest

you care now?

conner as your angry, protective bf

jason trying his damn best to be a brother to you

calling bruce by his last name only

calling alfred your dad ft. jealous bruce

how are damian and jason obsessed towards you

their nicknames for you

how bruce and damian would try to bond with you

will you still go to college after being kidnapped?

will the series have a happy ending?

why does damian hurt you? and why do you justify his actions?

the family stalks you even in-game

— INCORRECT QUOTES ! ; #a&a: incorrect quotes

yan! villains kidnapping you

hostage situation

how to become a target to the wayne family

dick and you miscommunication trope in a nutshell

— FANART ! ; #a&a: fanart

happy birthday by @luffyadolover

diary by @luffyadolover

another reason they're broke &. finished art by @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu

a take on the reader's appearance by @luffyadolover

reader trying to study ft. the batfam's endless calls &. finished art by @ghostdoodlen

reader finding bruce and damian watching a movie by @luffyadolover

again &. again mv by @luffyadolover

reader and their playlist by @luffyadolover

a comic panel by @lucioleestolie

conner and reader flying through the skies by @ghostdoodlen

when all of a sudden, i hear this agitating noise by @punpunsonny

villain au reader by @lazyemmy

a&a oc: emile by @questionthegrapevine

graduation pic, conner comfort, and mirrors by @ghostdoodlen

neglected &. non-neglected reader by @lazyemmy

jason calling you his angel by @ghostdoodlen

alfred gives you a christmas gift by @luffyadolover

my own art teehee by me

— TAGLIST ! ; taglist is under construction!

@.lilyalone, @.secretomelettetroops, @.earlqurl, @.simpingfor-wakasa, @.amber-content, @.ruiroku, @.okaybutfullhomo, @.trasshy-artist, @.obsessedwithromance, @.jjsmeowthie, @.fairy-lenaa, @.ilovvmyhusband, @.6uuyuuhgy, @.plsfckmedxddy, @.lavender-moony, @.sweetheart-era, @.chemicalsandghosts, @.darling006, @.starringyau, @.samanthahanes, @.rosecentury, @.jaythes1mp, @.pi1nkl0ver, @.i-thirsty-boy, @.sharks-are-cool-l, @.silverklaus, @.samanthathanes, @.traumaramacenter, @.maddimoon, @.anxrq, @.thedarknesslord, @.h0rr0r-10ver-69, @.lazy-idate, @.cupids-pretty-boy, @.alishii, @.mel-star636, @.sitepathos, @.freakyotaku059-blog, @.dirtydiavolo, @.sunbleachedantlers, @.24hrsoflanii, @.ceramic-raven, @.une-lueur-dans-la-nuit, @.tdickensstuff4, @.thickerthanthieves, @.arlandvery, @.distressed-lezbo, @.bunbunboysworld, @.bellethesleepypotato, @.naina326, @.nebuluma, @.alliwantisadonut, @.alishii, @.kusakiguzen, @.sirenetheblogger, @.emmbny, @.ryukyuin, @.solkara, @.starsdotalk

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.