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howdytherepardner · 2 years ago

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It would be hard to imagine, even at this precise moment of typing when I have not searched to ask, that no one has written about “Nights.” Checking that claim, not a single line goes without annotation on Genius, and a simple search warrants countless folks ruminating on its literary functions, representative implications, musical production, and personal significance. The writing that follows seems to land mostly in the latter, functioning more as a means for me to capture my own reminiscence and recollection. A bit of guilt there that I’m not doing more research and consideration of the song on its own accomplishments - but it would likely be more than redundant, and it feels more honest to operate only on what I know without trying to supplement the gaps with rudimentary google searches.

I was on Twitter when it was a meme of sorts to ask when Frank Ocean was going to release new music. Similar to the rumbling that I’ve noticed now, with his upcoming headlining at Coachella and other performances, that leads people to believe he’ll be dropping something new again.

But back then, Channel Orange was all it took to create a sense of grandeur and a near need for more from Ocean expressed by many in communion. It was almost like a shattering of worlds when Blonde dropped, the fulfilling of a prophecy that made jokes before feel like the worship of acolytes or spite of non-believers. It was an impossibly perfect follow-up, and evolution on the innovation of his first - even if people had preferences one way or another, it was simply impossible to say anything against how good it was.

At least, that’s the sentiment I picked up. I hadn’t listened to any of Ocean’s work, and was bystanding to what seemed to bring together so many in the peculiar public forum that was pre-November 2016 Twitter. People in my generational cohort (which I leave undefined and intentionally ambiguous to not speak for/exclude others) used to commonly, if not frequently, express how the summer of 2016 was a Moment, a peak of moments, that had not (and probably still has not) been been bested in their lifetimes.

Blonde released on August 20, 2016. It’s hard to pick a day of the year that’s more distinctly “summer is ending“ than that. Sure, August rolls around and folks might start getting ready to wrap things up, feel the passing of the season as the thought of school or work in a certain form returns to mind. But August 20 is when the teens of that month die - September is not just visible but clear on the horizon, and though summer heat in day still lingers, it’s the time: you might have been procrastinating, not thinking about it too much, but Oh, shit. Summer is ending.

I’ve been trying to remember which older, legendary folk artists described how music is consumed today like opiates, or something adjacent, and in what interview. Headlines circulated sometime late last year, tell me if you know what my brain doesn’t fully.

But my thoughts are burgeoning around that notion, largely with respect to continued questions on not only the ethics of Spotify (the place/app/service/corporation/social platform/series of servers from which I primarily get my music) but also its lack of guaranteed continuity. And certainly, some virtue of existence is impermanence such that someday one might return to where medium of song outside the human body and memory might remain, even before humans themselves go. I do want to start buying more directly from artists, particularly smaller ones and whose music I would call especially significant, but what a harsh judgement to impose non-significance on everyone else whose art I consume as unworthy of support.

But here, the opiate comparison feels most closely linked to ease of access and the sheer unending access one has. The highs one gets are simply highs; they are things to chase and to feel, but things largely empty of significance. One puts on music to tune out, to cope with the world as it is, rather than using music as a motivating source of change. Put simply, that anyone can “feel” as a result of music drenched in politics and social relations without any intention to alter their lives to understand or align with the theories expressed, to me, speaks to the power of either society writ large or unintentionally of the music itself. The guilt with which I identify is that I enjoy listening to music mostly passively, or to meet particular moods.

The exceptions have usually been coming to albums. Not exclusively, as often I’m just curious about finding “new music,” if I uphold that framework of guilt. But this past November, it felt right to not save my first occasion Blonde for a walk or a grind at work, but an evening in bed, not going to sleep, but after the time for which I needed to be awake. And it was everything that I would have expected to move me deeply back in 2016 - it moved me still in 2022, but I am different and older now.

The last time I recall taking a night drive with no purpose other than to drive was in the summer of 2020. I went south, ended up somewhere on the other side of Knoxville before making it to Abingdon on an extended highway that I’d never driven. I had my Discover Weekly playlist downloaded, and I remember hearing The Greeting Committee’s “Is This It?” before the first village and Anderson .Paak’s “Parking Lot” on the way out of the second.

I have driven at night since then - when I had a car at college for the pandemic-but-on-campus semester, I brought friends places, sometimes in the evening. Those memories I hold fondly in my mind, but those feel absent a certain introspective quality that drives for the sake of driving seem to steer towards. I really haven’t driven much since those times in early 2021, and now that I’m a resident in a city with robust public transport and many walkable areas, the desire to be back behind the wheel hasn’t really flared up. I’m sure there’s some climate guilt loaded up into that, but really, the only thought that comes to mind is the notion of the night drive.

It is a wonder that, for a certain period of our lives, the older we get the more responsibilities we are allowed, then expected to uphold. The high school experience I think can be considered a particular crux between those two points - a driver’s license at 16 a particular example of new autonomy without, say, the burden for the regular commute of a 9-5. So those of teen ages might enjoy that ability to a particular extent without the negative associations that it might invoke for a high school, and indeed they might indulge in those night drives.

I don’t make this claim to be universal. I grew up in a rural area where driving was often the only thing to do as a teen night activity was drive around, between small cities and large villages, traversing fields of wheat, corn, or soy; illuminated by streetlamps, then the moon. But I know that many grew up in city environments where driving was not such a cultural staple, nor a part of life at all. I also know that driving is a part of many’s post-high school experience in such a way that the “night drive” is still a component of that life on the young side of adult.

But I think it’s interesting, reflecting on my college experience, the end of an evening hangout with friends in college was a walk home, maybe solo, maybe with a few others. But in high school, it was a return to residences that were hardly close together - the night drive, the moment of silence between friends and family, was necessarily a part of concluding that experience. Refreshing, before starting the next day.

“Nights” made its way to my January playlist pretty early in the month. There’s a particular association I have with it when getting onto the CTA, usually homeward bound on the Red Line. To imagine myself as I must appear to other people, bundled in a slim black winter coat and a maroon beanie: like any and many other a damned individual, not unique or perceived at all. Instead, blending in somewhere between the back and foregrounds.

But I’d also like to imagine a look comes over my face the second that it hits. A guitar strum pulled truly from nothing - a brief line that catches you off guard and informs you of the tone - before resolving into the next logical step. Ocean’s voice carrying that same immediacy that makes every word seem like it simply was meant to be. What is that feeling that comes over me, does it show on my face? And where do I find myself once the beat shifts?

Again I apologize, for here I’m not trying to read the text of the song at all. With the journey of a tin of chai rooibos from [part of unexpected credit at the gift store of the hotel outside of which Ronald Reagan was shot] to the home of a good friend as another example, it’s an attempt to name one of the invisible threads that isn’t made to be noticed. And yet, I am inspired to encase it, though I’m not sure why.

What happens in the night? Why do we do things when we should be asleep instead? How has it enchanted our minds, and how does our relationship with it change? How does Ocean, like many countless others, know how to present it in art? I ask these things because I am not sure how they are to be answered. But I have another proposal offer:

For a time, I had thought of 2020′s summer as the longest period of time that I’d ever endured. Recently I’d been thinking of it as longer than the past 8 months of my life, or even the 4 years of my time in high school; by most scholarly metrics, this is strictly wrong. I’m not going to say I won’t feel the impossibility is true again later, but I do think my sentiment is better explained by thinking of it less in length. A year is a year even if I’m not perceiving it, and so similarly is the temporal distance between one equinox and the next.

But I do perceive these things. The mind selects with what to fill each moment, and the memory thereafter. In that way, it is not the length of time that we recognize, but how all of it is filled. Through this calculus, it is the AREA across a time that we know. Plateaus and bumpy hills and caverns, these stores and deserts of significance come from our own bodies and choices. Not just to forget and to remember, mind you, but to feel and breathe and experience, or to numb and shut out and survive. Things within our control that have obviously never been in our control.

Summer 2020 was not longer than itself, but large. Much larger than the average summer, and rivaling many single years. Some rides on the Red line are bigger than others.

And it’s a long life, if every night fucks every day up. Thinking about the power of “Nights,” any second within could span the cosmos, if you let it. And even as one might be able to shrink the space a place takes up, it is a scary power that people have: making moments too vast to ever escape.

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oklcmc · 2 years ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀،̲،̲⠀⠀⠀𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 pt. 𝟏╱𝟐

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〝⠀If I try to spend SOME TIME with you to make you HAPPY⸝ would you FEEL BETTER？⠀〞

⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ SUMMARY：⠀⠀⠀‘’⠀⠀⠀In which a diligent young woman takes off early from work in order to care for her〝supposedly〞sick boyfriend back at home⸝ despite the fact that it’s pouring down rain outside.⠀⠀⠀‘’

⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ WORD COUNT：2⸝ 296

⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ PAIRING：bryshere y. gray ✕ black!publication editor-in-chief!female oc

⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ FOREWARNING：none thus far.

⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ FUN-SIZE PLAYLIST：i. swv - rain⸝ ii. jamie foxx - rain ❪forcass❫⸝ iii. new edition - can you stand the rain⸝ iv. faith evans - soon as i get home⸝ v. faith evans - reasons

⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ AUTHOR’S NOTE：⠀⠀⠀‘’⠀⠀⠀Reminiscing on that ‘17-‘18 New Edition Wattpad application run while watching their Essence Festival performance this past weekend and thought to repost this gem to this platform instead. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it⸝ but it’s something to hold y’all off ‘til I make my real return... That’s only if you haven’t read it already through the orange application already. Happy readings⸝ Mermaids!⠀⠀⠀‘’

Lower Manhattan⸝ New York⸝ New York ⋆ Late January

Indra Grady, indisputably the first young Black American woman to take on being editor-in-chief of teen entertainment and music magazine, Trailblazer, stood with confidence in her ombre Christian Louboutin pumps at the headquarter's conference room. Her wide-leg pants hugged her Coke bottle frame nicely while her sleeveless crop top exposed just the slightest bit of her flat stomach, but nevertheless, she was gonna conceal it with a blazer so that she wouldn't have her boss preaching to her about the Code of Conduct again.

It wasn't like she would be laid off anytime soon or knocked from her current position. She had generated more buzz with last month's issue featuring the once Los Angeles Hip-Hop collective known as Odd Future and an exclusive 6-page interview on why they decided to disband than anyone before her. Everyone had been trying to get on or in next, from basketball players to Trap artist. Although that might just bring their sales to an all-time high, she had another profitable idea in the works for next month's issue. She was looking to make Trailblazer the YSB magazine of it's time.

The electric projection screen began to ascend and the dim cove lights of the conference room began to brighten once the 30-second promotional ad starring the multi-talented, Lee Daniels came to an end.

Everyone looked to Indra whom was now standing at the head of the conference table with one hand tucked within the pocket of her pants and the other grasping the remote to the projection screen. Her face said it all.

There was definitely an elephant in the room, and she was going to address it. She loved the idea for an promotional ad, but strongly disliked the spokesperson.

"So, what do you think?" Bailey, one of the art directors, grinned as he repeatedly tapped his no. 2 pencil against his padfolio.

"What do I think?" She allowed a small giggle to escape her lips which were painted in a vibrant tint of red Yves Saint Laurent lipstick. "You're onto something here, Bailey, but--"

Believe it or not, Indra was suddenly silenced. Not at all by her colleagues, but by the single droplet of rain that managed to thump against the windowpane of just one of ten floor-to-ceiling windows located within the conference room.

There had been a storm cloud hovering over New York City since the crack of dawn without a torrential or even a thunder roll. God couldn't have chose a better time to weep for humanity in Indra's opinion, and right against the company's building. It was days like this that made her the happiest because it made her reminisce on being a solitary 7-year-old, back on her family's ranch in her hometown of Lander, Wyoming, who was always anticipating rainfall year round.

Her grandfather would always tell her how her parents couldn't have given her a better name being that her name meant God of Lightning, Thunder, Rains, and River flows in Hinduism. A masculine name, maybe, but if she put her mind to it, maybe she too could be just as skilled with the forecast as a man would.

People told her she would be grow up to be nothing more than a lawn jockey or worse since all she seemed to be good for was standing around, observing, but observing got her very far in life. In fact, it got her out of a city where rainfall was scarce and to a city where it was common. It got her a bachelor's degree in journalism which led to her landing a job as editor-in-chief of one of the best selling magazine. It had even earned her a going on 5-year relationship with an well-known entertainer. She couldn't ask for anything more.

"Um, Indra?" Bailey called out, causing Indra to draw her attention away from the windowpane. "You were saying?"

"O-Oh, yes," Stammered Indra, batting her false eyelashes. "As I was saying, your idea for a promotional ad is brilliant, Bailey. I just don't think we need Lee Daniels for it."

"What? But why? Are you forgetting that this man has a net worth of $5 million?"

Once again Indra had to refrain from being unprofessional in the workplace by rolling her eyes.

"No, but did you forget that I'm dating one of the main characters of his television show? Let's not get rowdy here, okay, Bailey? All I'm suggesting is that we find a better spokesperson."

"Like who?"

"Like Jesse Collins? Wood Harris maybe?"

"You can't be serious. All those two are known for are Real Husbands of Hollywood and Paid in Full."

"Does it matter?!" Indra shouted, slamming her fists against the conference table. "If you can't fit one of the two in for a promotional ad come next Monday, this whole idea is finished and so are you!"

The tension in the room was released once the frameless glass door was frantically being pulled open by Indra's personal assistant, Trish.

"Indra?" Trish called out, avoiding eye contact as she always did.

Indra was nothing but nice to Trish, so she couldn't quite understand why she was always acting intimidated when around her.

"Yes, Trish?" Indra sighed out.

"Bryshere's on line 2 requesting for you again. Would you like for me to tell him that you're busy?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Trish. I'll just take the call in my office. Thank you for informing me." Indra smiled and nodded in Trish's direction, signifying that she could leave.

Trish wasted no time rushing back towards her cubicle so that she could deliver the message while Indra faced her colleagues again. They were all seated in front of a padfolio and a bottle of Voss water, patiently waiting on her say-so on when they could leave.

"Meeting adjourned." She declared with a flick of her wrist.

Not even a second later, the conference room was filled with noise, from piling papers to sidebar conversation about weekend plans.

Though Indra knew there were billions of unanswered questions to be thrown her way about the new issue due for release in just a week, she insisted on sneaking back to her private office for her boyfriend's sake.

Indra couldn't help but to allow a restless yawn escape her mouth upon entering as she was finally able to peel the blazer from her body. Indra absolutely cherished her position as editor-in-chief of Trailblazer, but even she could admit that this job could wear the average person out.

She drug her feet towards her desk area where she placed her blazer on the back of her office chair then proceeded to take a well-needed seat inside of it.

Out of all the distractions scattered across her desk; an iMac, important documents, a full coffee mug, and even the bouquet of fruit flowers her boyfriend sent weekly, she reached for the telephone's headset first. Pulling it over her platinum blonde hair, she quickly hit the call control button.

"Hello again, Bryshere." Indra greeted her boyfriend with just about no enthusiasm, and you could blame this on Bryshere's previous actions. He felt like if he couldn't reach her by her cell phone (Which she powered off during work hours), he was damn sure gonna reach her by the company's phone just to work whatever nerve she had left.

Bryshere was usually the one claiming to be the busiest with his hit television show Empire being renewed for two more seasons, traveling state to state for promotion for this new miniseries that's about to be released in less than a week and for the filming of a new movie, and not to mention studio sessions. That's until his management team suggested that he take a week's break just so he wouldn't burn himself out.

He thought it'd be the perfect opportunity to finally spend quality time with his girlfriend since they both couldn't seem to fit into each other's schedules nowadays, but that changed soon after reality set in and he realized that his woman still had a magazine corporation to run. It had just been him and their Toy Poodle, Prince attempting to keep themselves occupied all week by walking the neighborhood, playing against his castmate, Keith Powers in Madden 17 on Xbox One, and even writing mediocre rhymes from here and there. He knew it was time his woman come home to keep him company after Keith had even gave him instructions on how to prepare a simple Hamburger Helper dish

"Bryshere, I'm serious, you can not continue calling the company's phone like this. It's making me look unprofessional. Do you know I just wrapped up an important business meeting all so that I could come and speak with you? And even then, I had to sneak my way out." Indra subconsciously snatched up the coffee mug that had been sitting out on her desk since the early afternoon when she was reviewing the photos that were soon-to-be revealed in the upcoming magazine issue and began to take a sip from the bitter decaf that sat within it.

"I wasn't try--" Bryshere could barely even get a sentence in before Indra was spitting coffee back into her mug.

"Hold that thought, baby," She pressed a specific button on her telephone that led to the intercom of her personal assistant. "Trish, I need a fresh cup of coffee as soon as possible, please and thank you."

"Coming right up." Trish responded.

With a deep sigh, Indra placed her coffee mug back on her desk before continuing conversation with her boyfriend.

"What were you saying again, baby?"

Bryshere didn't even waste his breathe because even a simple 'I miss you' couldn't come between her and her work, so he thought of something that would. He began to cough the deadliest cough. As if he were a patient diagnosed with active Tuberculosis.

Indra gasped through the receiver, and it was in that very moment that Bryshere knew he had her fooled.

"Oh my God, baby! Is this the reason you kept trying to reach me? Because you're sick?"

"I didn't mean to come off annoying, baby. I know you're busy with this new issue, but I really need you. It's getting worse." His voice quaked as if he were going through alcohol withdrawal, and you best believe Indra was sopping up every second of it.

"Say no more! I'm on my way!" Indra confirmed, springing up from her seat.

"Hurry!" Bryshere hacked for good measure before ending the call with a vile grin stretching his face.

The pros and cons of being an experienced actor.

Meanwhile Indra was basically running around her office like a chicken with it's head cut clean off, in search of her fur coat, Céline handbag, and transparent umbrella.

Trish barged inside with the steaming cup of coffee Indra requested for earlier just as she was frantically pulling her arms through the sleeves of her coat.

"Um, Indra? I have that cup of coffee you asked for." Trish spoke barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Trish, but you can just dump it. I have somewhere to be."

"Pardon me for asking, but where are you off to exactly?"

"I have to be on my way home. Bryshere's coming down with a really nasty cold. I'm always the one telling him to wear a coat in this kind of weather, but of course he never listens to me. Nobody ever listens to me." Indra trailed off, the last of her speech coming off as almost inaudible.

How could that possibly be true when Trish was always listening to every order that left Indra's mouth on a daily basis? Listening and doing as she's told basically sums up her day job.

In no time, Indra was vacating her office and approaching the nearest elevator with Trish hot on her trail.

"What would you like for me to do with the fruit sitting out on your desk?" Trish asked, watching Indra continuously smack the elevator's call button with the palm of her hand.

"You can have them if you want." The stainless steel doors before them began to detach from each other and on stepped Indra. She faced her assistant whom was now standing outside of the elevator alone and pressed the button for the lobby using her index finger.

"And as for all those waiting to meet with you?"

By this time the elevator doors slowly began to join as one.

"Tell them to reschedule for Monday."

"Well, let Bryshere know that I hope he feels better!"

"Will do!" Indra spoke with a sincere smile plastered on her face before the elevator doors even had the chance to completely close.

The trip down to the lobby gave enough time for Indra to power on her iPhone 7 Plus and send for her chauffeur.

She exited the headquarters through the revolving doors, her umbrella shielding her from any downpour or wind gust coming her way. She spotted her chauffeur, Trent, standing near the rear door of the overfamiliar Rolls Royce Wraith they rode in regularly and carefully began to approach him. The very last thing she wanted to do was slip up in her Louboutin's and land flat on her ass.

Trent was pulling the rear door open at the very sight of Indra.

She quickly let down her umbrella before climbing inside the backseat where the heat was blowing full blast. Her Céline handbag was tossed aside on the leather seat while her drenched umbrella somehow found it's way on the floor.

"Where to, Indra?" Trent asked once he was seated in the driver's seat with his seat belt strapped across him.

Indra withdrew her Céline sunglasses from the pocket of her coat and pushed them up the bridge of nose before speaking up.

"The nearest pharmaceutical, please."

#┃⠀･｡ﾟ☆⠀〝i just want some dick.〞⠀⠀╱ ⠀⠀꒰⠀𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬╱𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬╱𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬╱𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬╱𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.#bryshere gray #bryshere y. gray #michael bivins #mike bivins #new edition #bell biv devoe #the new edition story #black authors #black writers #poc authors #poc writers #empire #empire fox #empirefox #honey 4 #canal street #wattpad

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royivia · 3 years ago

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The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

#short story #original fiction #creative writing #writers of tumblr #fiction

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passionate-reply · 3 years ago

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This week on Great Albums: lots of people love Gary Numan. But they tend to love his very early work, and his very recent work, without a whole lot vouching for the stuff in between. My favourite work of Numan’s is 1984′s Berserker, a true gem buried in the sands of many, many mediocre albums. Find out what makes it so great by watching my video, or reading the transcript below!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! This time around, we’re looking at a fairly famous artist, and at one of his not-as-famous works: Gary Numan’s Berserker, first released in 1984.

For the most part, if you’re a fan of Numan, you’re either a fan of his earliest work, and/or, his recent work since the 1990s, and there’s a substantive slump in between these two. In 1979, the artist made a tremendous splash with his initial hits “Cars” and “Are ‘Friends’ Electric?”, but after the release of his second solo LP, Telekon, only the following year, the public rapidly began to sour on Numan’s android antics. While his early work is held in high regard, and perhaps even unassailable for synth fans, most of his other work in the 1980s is met with a lot more scrutiny.

Numan’s bad days arguably came to a head with 1983’s Warriors. Warriors was initially meant to have been produced by the great Bill Nelson, whose work Numan evidently much admired. However, the artists’ clashing personalities allegedly made it impossible for them to work together, and Nelson left the project and had his name removed from it. Besides this period’s poor aesthetic decisions, showcasing Numan with blond hair and head-to-toe leather like a very sorry Billy Idol clone, Warriors feels like a mess of disjointed sonic ideas, losing the nucleus of what had made Numan special.

Music: “Sister Surprise”

Like most of Numan’s work from this period, Warriors was not only a flop in the eyes of critics, but also an arguable commercial failure. It would go on to be the final record he released on the Beggars’ Banquet label; after its release, he decided to take matters into his own hands and start an independent label, Numa Records. This is where Berserker comes in, having been the first independent release Numan got to make. And I think it shows, in that the album comes across as extremely focused in its themes, as well as very willing to do things that are more novel and unique.

Music: “Berserker”

The album’s title track was its lead single, as well as its opener. As it opens the album with the line, “I’ve been waiting for you,” I can’t help but feel that I, too, have been waiting for Gary Numan, whose true genius lay dormant for some years, like the fabled king under the mountain. The title track’s screeching guitar is, perhaps ironically, more reminiscent of Bill Nelson’s famous guitar work than anything on Warriors. Overall, I can’t help but feel it resembles the general template of Numan’s celebrated later work, with its emphasis on jagged electronic textures rather than traditional instruments, as well as its lyricism, portraying an abstractly menacing narrator who seems as inscrutable and inhuman as they do dangerous. In that sense, it’s a bit of a glimpse into Numan’s future. Still, one can’t deny that Berserker remains an album that feels “of its time,” take it or leave it, as on the second and final single, “My Dying Machine.”

Music: “My Dying Machine”

“My Dying Machine” seems to revolve around its woodsy, sample-based percussion track, perhaps reminiscent of Geinoh Yamashirogumi’s work with gamelans and jegogs for the soundtrack of the famous film Akira, later in the 1980s--albeit less organic and more precisely mechanical. It’s a sound that I can’t get enough of, personally, but it’s also something that springs directly from the advancements in sampling technology that were becoming more accessible by this time. The use of female backing vocalists, heard on many tracks throughout the album, is another touch that grounds Berserker in a mid-80s context, as it was a fairly common trend at the time. But I’d argue that the employment of this technique enriches the album: Numan’s backing choir seem no less haunting than he does, surrounding him like sirens on a desolate crag, harrying us with hooks that in the past might have been played on an early synthesiser instead. The contrast of these female voices also helps highlight the greater vocal range that Numan himself attempts on this album. Squawking at higher pitches had been serviceable earlier in his career, when he remained more indebted to punk, but on Berserker, we really get a lot of his chest voice, and he proves himself to be a surprisingly competent vocalist on tracks like “Cold Warning.”

Music: “Cold Warning”

Earlier, I argued that Berserker’s title track prefigured Numan’s later albums, but I was mainly comparing lead singles to lead singles. “Cold Warning,” I think, sounds a lot like the typical album track on a recent Numan album: slower-paced, somewhat atmospheric, and ominous in a more moody and subtle manner as opposed to directly threatening. Note also its intro, with its prominent use of a viola, which really stands out against Berserker’s overall more electronic soundscape. By this point, Numan had been no stranger to incorporating traditional instruments; earlier in his career, he’d been impressed by the work of Billy Currie of Ultravox, who played not only synthesisers, but also string instruments like viola, in the context of a rock group. Numan had gone as far as to hire Currie to perform on his 1979 LP The Pleasure Principle, and its accompanying tour. Still, I think “Cold Warning” reminds me less of The Pleasure Principle, and more of Numan’s more recent efforts--particularly his 2021 album Intruder, which features Gorkem Sen playing the yaybahar, a novel string instrument of the latter’s own invention. Still, for as much as Berserker stands out as one of the least commercial endeavours from this period of Numan’s career, it’s not totally devoid of pop influences. Take, for example, the track “This Is New Love.”

Music: “This Is New Love”

From its title alone, “This Is New Love” seems to announce itself as something more conventional and accessible, and indeed, its lyrics are more straightforward than what you’ll find elsewhere on Berserker. Those omnipresent backing vocalists are given a pleasingly hooky assignment here, and the instrumental arrangement, dominated by that oh-so-80s slap bass, is also less abrasive, and an apparent nod towards pop. If this track were also a scrying crystal, I’d say it looks ahead to Numan’s near future, and lighter, more funky tracks like “Your Fascination.”

Of course, I can’t do Berserker justice without talking about the visual side of this period in Numan’s career. Front and center on the cover of the album, as well as contemporary supplemental releases like singles, we see Numan in the distinctive makeup associated with this era: solid white skin, with striking, solid, deep blue hair, eyes, and lips. On one hand, his appearance here shares a lot in common with where he got started, generally painted white with a lot of dark eyeliner, but there’s also an element of newness about it, in the use of that brilliant blue. Visually as well as musically, Berserker feels to me like the ideal thing for an artist to be doing by the time of his eighth major release: whittling down to the very best elements that defined their initial work, while incorporating and experimenting with new ideas at the same time. The last time we saw a headshot of Numan on the cover of an album was the aforementioned Telekon, but in contrast to the ambiguous and perhaps diffident expression Numan had there, on the cover of Berserker, he seems much more sure of himself. Staring directly forward, with perhaps a hint of anger suggested in his brows, he seems to regard us with confidence, and a certain single-mindedness.

Taken together, Berserker is an album that “convinces,” expressing a clarity, certainty, and cohesiveness of creative ideas. Like the savage and frenzied warriors of the Old Norse skalds, Berserker comes after us relentlessly, invoking something otherworldly as it does so.

But as much as Berserker seems like such a determined statement, Numan never necessarily made an album that was exactly like it. He seems to have a relative soft spot for it, in that he still performs tracks from this album in live sets despite largely snubbing the rest of his 80s output, but Berserker didn’t exactly revolutionize the way he approached music at the time. For Numan, the 1980s were largely a time of throwing things at the wall to see what stuck, and, as mentioned above, we know he wouldn’t find what stuck for him until a decade after the release of Berserker. If you’re looking for more of this sound, your best bet might be the 1985 single “Change Your Mind,” a collaboration between Numan and Bill Sharpe of the jazz-funk outfit Shakatak. While combining Numan’s sound with funk may sound a bit strange, it’s something that many of the synth whizzes from earlier in the decade had started doing to remain relevant in the mid-to-late 1980s, and at least on this cracking single, it seems to come together pretty well.

Music: “Change Your Mind”

My favourite track on Berserker is “The Hunter.” While I’ve emphasized the extent to which Berserker is a forward-looking album for Numan in a sea of mostly forgotten mistakes, “The Hunter” is the track that feels the most to me like it could be a classic Numan work, and I can easily imagine a lower-tech version of it appearing on Telekon. Just listen to that delightful air-raid siren synth rendition of the main vocal hook, and I’m sure you’ll agree! That’s everything for today, thanks for listening!

Music: “The Hunter”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #gary numan

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jay-me-says · 4 years ago

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So I made a playlist because of the Fundy and Dream wedding, as promised. Here’s the link to the playlist. I have my interpretations on them as far as fundywastaken goes under the cut!

Song No. 1: Home - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

This song made me think of Fundy and Dream singing this to one another, having this kind of conversation at some point before their wedding and just in general being lovey. Feeling like everything will be okay- will be good- so long as they can be home with the one another.

Song No. 2: Go To War - Nothing More

After the wedding, back in L’manburg, another war is upon them. Dream and Fundy are still standing on separate sides of the conflict, except now Fundy doesn’t care whether or not Dream gets hurt. “Here we stand on opposing sides, let’s go to war!” He’s ready to fight for L’manburg and hurt Dream for what he’s done.

Song No. 3: Bust Your Knee Caps - Pomplamoose

This ties a little bit into a concept from another post I made (I’ll link it here once both of the posts are up). Canonically, Fundy is Wilbur’s son. This makes Philza his grandad and Tommy and Techno his uncles. Imagine for me, the entire family extraordinarily pissed off at Dream for what he did to Fundy on the day of the wedding. “Then you got cold feet, now all you’ll be is a speed bump.” Imagine them wanting to completely mess that man up after hurting their Fundy.

Song No. 4: Soulmate Song - Carson James Argenna

This is a sad(ish), love-related song so I couldn’t help thinking of them while listening to it after the wedding. If I had to put a scenario to this, I would imagine Fundy reflecting on conversations he had with Dream and then coming back to reality knowing it’s all over.

Song No. 5: Tungs - The Frights

This one has two feelings for me. One being a more energetic phase of their relationship where they were head over heels and just happy being around one another. Two is Fundy being a little more aggressive towards Dream, telling him it’s too late (Do you think I'm cute? Well it's too late to check) and acknowledging how much he put in the relationship without getting back as much as he should have (Have you seen my shoes? Cause they've been ripped to shit From walking the world for you)

Song No. 6: Pretty Girl - Clairo

Fundy reminiscing on the relationship and desperately thinking how he would go so far as to change himself if Dream would just keep being with him. Thinking maybe he was foolish for thinking the relationship would work out in the first place.

Song No. 7: Sh-Boom - The Chords

First of all, “life could be a dream.” Second of all, Fundy and Dream talking about wanting to be married and being happy together.

Song No. 8: Monster - dodie

I know this is applicable to so, so many dynamics on the Dream SMP, but imagine Fundy and Dream having this conversation back on the SMP after the wedding. Also you could take the line “am I ready to let this die?” as Dream (or both of them) doubting whether he really wants to say goodbye to this relationship. (Side note- really wish I was a better artist and had the patience to animate because I would do a whole animatic of this)

Song No. 9: falling for you - peachy! (ft. mxmtoon)

Really early stages of their relationship, right as they’re realizing their feelings for one another and starting to consider, internally, what to do about it.

Song No. 10: i love you - Billie Eilish

Most of these songs definitely feel like Fundy’s POV to me, but this one (and number nine) feel more like Dream to me. This song seems like Dream questioning what he did, why he hurt Fundy like that, and reflecting on how close he let Fundy get. Another interpretation could be (around 1:10 in the song) that Dream is getting scared of losing Fundy earlier in their relationship. He doesn’t want to let this be real, as much as he wants to be with him, and he wishes Fundy hadn’t told Dream he loved him.

Outro

That’s all I’ve got. Hope at least a few people enjoyed this! Have a good one, folks ❤️

#fundywastaken #fundywastaken wedding #fundy #fundy mcyt #fundy dream smp #dreamwastaken #dream mcyt #fundy and dream #dream smp #dreamsmp #dream and fundy #jaysfavoriteposts #fwt wedding #fwt wedding spoilers #fundywastaken wedding spoilers

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taste-in-music · 4 years ago

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taste-in-music’s Year End Wrap-Up

Hello everybody! We’ve finally reached the end of 2020. While I’m glad to leave this miserable year behind, one of things that undeniably got me through it was the vast amount of awesome music we got. In past years I’ve made favorite album and EP lists, but this time around I’m going to tackle them all in one go, giving reviews on the projects that had some significances to me over the course of the year. I’m going to make a post for my favorite songs too, so keep an eye out for that in coming days. Now, without further ado, let’s get started, shall we?

folklore by Taylor Swift: This was an incredible year of growth for Taylor Swift. As much as I’ve enjoyed her past music, the way she constantly felt the need to address what people thought of her always irked me, (though after watching her documentary, I do understand why she did it.) It wasn’t Taylor Swift the public persona that was most interesting, I thought. It was Taylor Swift the artist, the songwriter, the storyteller. What I wanted was an album focused on that. This year, I got one, (well... more on that later,) and it’s my favorite project she’s ever done. The tales Swift spins on folklore span across love triangles, heiresses, and battlefields, and she nails each and every one. While the chilly indie-folk influence from the likes of Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon is prominent, Swift’s warmth and charisma always cuts through the fog like a beam of sunlight. So yeah, this is my undeniable album of the year.

Fetch The Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple: I only started listening to Fiona Apple last year and had thoroughly enjoyed her music, but this album cemented her as one of my favorite songwriters and performers of all time. Everything about Fetch The Bolt Cutters is so idiosyncratic yet fits together in just the right way, like watching an entire house being dropped from the sky and falling perfectly into place. It is a testament to the creative process, emotional honesty, and breaking free from all the cages you may find yourself in, whether they be societal, personal, or those of your own making. And in a year that was so isolating, it felt like Apple was whispering everything I needed to hear right into my ear, just when I needed it. In short, my boltcutters have been motherfucking fetched.

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers: When Punisher was announced, I had no clue how Phoebe Bridgers would match the quality of Stranger In The Alps. Upon first listen, I wasn’t sure she had. By the fifteenth time I was listening to this album and every lyric was hitting like Cupid’s arrow to the jugular, I knew she’d surpassed it. Punisher presents a sonic scope that both comforts and crushes all at once, like with the upbeat yet mournful horns on “Kyoto” or the cathartic swell on standout “I Know The End.” In my opinion, Bridgers is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation in the making, and I can’t wait to see what the future brings for her. She may know the end, but she’s far from it.

SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama: This is the album I see becoming a new shorthand for the true potential of pop excellence, a cult hit that never got its time to shine but is beloved by pop music geeks to the ends of the earth, like EMOTION by Carly Rae Jepsen. SAWAYAMA so effortlessly blends diverse genres and influences like disco, nu metal, and arena rock, and it yet it remains cohesive due to Rina Sawayama’s sheer strength as a performer. She deserves a spot on the pop girlie hierarchy, and one near the top.

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa: I really enjoyed Dua Lipa’s debut album, but even I didn’t expect her to come through with such a fully realized, consistent, downright fantastic follow up. Future Nostalgia is a pop album that feels studied, like Lipa did her research of pop’s past as she made it. The result is an album that synthesizes several different sounds under her vision, one that is always trained ahead, and it simply slaps. In a perfect world, nearly every song on this album got spun off into a hit single.

evermore by Taylor Swift: 2020 was already my year of listening to Taylor Swift, (I went through her whole discography, cultivated a favorites playlist, and at the end of the year I was in the top 2% of her yearly Spotify listeners.) evermore was a lovely cherry to top it all off. While folklore enchanted me with its stories, evermore captivated me with its melodies. I haven’t been able to get snippets of this album out. of. my. head. for weeks now. It’s a bit less consistent than it’s older sister, (and likely to live in its shadow,) but there is still so much to love.

I’m Allergic to Dogs! by Remi Wolf: This EP is so much goddamn fun. It’s a blend of many different sounds, indie pop, electronic, maybe hip hop, I think reggae at points? It’s such a colorful, textured, quirky listen bristling with energy and undeniable hooks. “Woo!” conquered my Summer, and months later the bridge of “Photo ID” conquered TikTok. Keep your eye out for Remi Wolf in the coming year, she’s going to make a big splash.

Good At Being Young by Charli Adams: Good At Being Young was the first EP this year that I could not get enough of. It drifts through dreamy indie-pop sounds, with melancholic guitars and cloudy synths, and Adams has a deep vocal timbre that delivers tales of adolescent tribulations with just the right amount of wistfulness. Overall, it builds the perfect soundscape for a late-night drive.

Cape God by Allie X: Allie X has been keeping us FED with content. It seems like only yesterday that Super Sunset came out, and yet her output remains impressively consistent. This album has impressive highs, some lower moments, but the danceability, duets, and enticing darkness under its shiny pop veneer make it a record you won’t want to skip.

La vita nuova by Christine and The Queens: Perhaps the biggest flex of 2020 was Christine and The Queens dropping a fantastic EP and accompanying short film right out of the gate. The grooves on this are infectious, wiry, and air-tight, (the Caroline Polachek feature was another added bonus,) but that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty of emotional weight too.

Lighter by Donna Missal: This was one of my most anticipated albums of the year, and it’s hard to determine whether it disappointed or not. I think the only thing holding Lighter back is that This Time was such a formative album for me, (my favorite of 2018, to the uninitiated.) In fact, this album flows way better than This Time, more cohesive with its storytelling and more consistent in folk-rock sound. And, of course, Donna Missal’s vocals stun on both the bangers and the ballads.

SURF by BLACKSTARKIDS: There was no record this year that was more instantly likeable than this one. The blend of low-fi indie pop and hip hop makes for a whirlwind of sunny fun and youthful malaise that would make the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to the beach. Standouts include the opening track “SOUNDS LIKE FUN,” the chill “WIGS,” and blissful title track “MUSIC TO SURF TO.”

The Baby by Samia: I’ve had my eye on Samia since “Milk” dropped years ago. Seeing her live sparked my belief that she was an indie darling in the making, and The Baby confirmed that she definitely was. The lyrics on this album mix quiet contemplation with just enough sardonic wit and raw emotion throughout a varied selection of sunny rock bops and gut wrenching ballads. If you enjoyed Punisher, then I can’t recommend this enough.

Season 2 by Nasty Cherry: Nasty Cherry is a group that I will not stop rooting for. Their EP from last year showed their potential for nailing monster hooks, but this sophomore effort shows just how versatile they can be. This EP covers everything from Dylan Brady produced hyperpop to early-2000s reminiscent pop rock to emotional balladry, and they pull it all off flawlessly.

A Little Rhythm and a Wicked Feeling by Magdalena Bay: This album became a fast favorite way late in the year, there is such a sweetness to Magdalena Bay’s music that makes it stick in your brain like a piece of blue raspberry bubblegum. This EP is spacey, catchy, and filled with electronic synthpop mastery, with countless catchy hooks that’ll make you feel like drifting and dancing all at once.

Miss Anthropocene by Grimes: The bubblegum bombast of Art Angels fully redefined my taste in pop years ago, so I was fascinated to see how Grimes would follow it up. On Miss Anthropocene, she leans into darker, more industrial textures, but also anchors it back to Earth with acoustic touches and some of her most introspective lyrics to date. Grimes painted a version of a world on the brink of disaster on this album, a picture that was hypnotically beautiful. And in a year where the word was a certified disaster, that was strangely comforting.

Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus: I’ve been wanting Miley to go rock for so goddamn long, Plastic Hearts was bound to make this list by pure validation alone. But what can I say? This breed of glossy 80s rock suits Cyrus’s rougher voice so well! I hope she stays in this lane a bit longer, but as we know, she’s one of pop’s most chameleonic figures. Only time will tell.

Where Does The Devil Hide by Zella Day: I have been patiently awaiting new Zella Day music ever since getting hooked on Kicker back in 2017, so this was one of my most anticipated releases of the year. This EP sounds nothing like Kicker, and I couldn’t be happier. It shows Day leaning even more into her influences from the past, (the 60s/70s vibes are intense with this one,) but also breathing a refreshing new life into them.

SOUL LADY by Yukika: When I imagine the ideal of pop music, what it would sound like in a perfect world, this is what it sounds like. SOUL LADY is full of pristine, glossy production and catchy hooks that feel like they’ve come down from the clouds. I’ll admit that I can have trouble forming a connection with music when I don’t understand the lyrics, (it’s something I’m working on,) but this album cleared that hurdle with ease. If you’re curious about city pop or K-pop this is a great place to start.

Heaven Is Without You by Love You Later: Give me lush pop production and heartbroken lyrics finished off with a heaping helping of nostalgia and I’ll eat it up with a spoon. Love You Later has been feeding my addiction to this genre for years, and this latest helping is particularly sweet.

IN A DREAM by Troye Sivan: Troye Sivan has always supplied the bops, but it was about time that he started experimenting with his sound a little bit more. This EP offers some harder-hitting electronic textures, but also the addictive hooks that’ll keep you coming back for more.

Ungodly Hour by Chloe X Halle: These women are so TALENTED! If there is any word I’d use to describe this album it would be “effortless,” the harmonies, grooves, and chemistry between Chloe and Halle feels so natural and free-flowing. Charisma just rolls off of them in droves, I see full-blown stardom and several Grammys in their future.

Watching You by Robinson: This EP was one of the first on this list to arrive this year, and it still hits months later. Robinson’s confessional lyrics work wonders over the buoyant pop grooves, and “Don’t Say” remains one of the best pop songs of recent years.

Manic by Halsey: I respect Halsey for dipping her toes into a myriad of different genres, (synth pop, rock, hip hop, and acoustic balladry,) but it does make for a jumbled listening experience. Still, I appreciate that this album features some of Halsey’s strongest tracks and writing to date, offering greater experimentation and emotional imtimacy than album’s past.

We Don’t Stop by Aly & AJ: Should this count? It’s more a compilation of their past EP and singles... I don’t care, I’m counting it because there’s some new stuff too. This is an excellent display of Aly & AJ’s pop prowess in recent years, the hooks, vocal chemistry, and shimmery production are undeniable.

Under My Influence by The Aces: The Aces returned in 2020 with a more laid-back, groovier record than their debut, exploring a wider variety of sounds. They’re as magnetic and likeable a group as ever, each member giving it their all, but I think I’ll return to the debut more often.

Strangers/Lovers by Dagny: I’ve been anticipating a longer Dagny project, as she’s been drip-feeding us singles for a while now. This was a lot of fun, with Dagny pairing her upbeat earnestness with stories of romantic tribulation. While the hooks aren’t as memorable as her past offerings, there is still so much to enjoy. Lead single “Come Over” and “Let Me Cry” are my favorites.

DUALITY by Tatiana Hazel: I came across this via recommendation on Tik Tok and it’s a solid pop record! The music is swooning, synthy, and tinged with disco and Latin influence. The record doesn’t waste a second of its runtime, clocking in at less than half an hour and grooving the whole time.

After Hours by The Weeknd: The sonic palette of After Hours is so engaging, a neon-drenched blend of synthwave, electropop, and R&B. I’ve always felt lukewarm on The Weeknd’s musical persona of brooding, villainous party monster, so the strongest moments on this album tend to be when he subverts that in some way. Still, in full, this album is an undeniable force of smash hits, stadium-shaking ballads, and cinematic flair. I can’t wait for his Super Bowl performance.

Petrol Bloom by LAUREL: It’s no secret that this year was chock-full of 80s revival albums (there’s what, five others on this list?) LAUREL wasn’t an artist I was expecting to go in that direction after the brooding folk pop of her debut album, but her deeper timbre works great alongside the synthy soundscapes.

positions by Ariana Grande: I’ve just come to expect that nearly all of Ariana Grande’s albums are going to be growers to me. My first listen to positions was underwhelming, but the songs have grown on me more and more. This album feels like being let in on a giggly, fun slumber party with Grande and her friends. I wouldn’t call this her strongest album by far, and while I tend to prefer when she favors the more powerful parts of her range, (and her enunciations could still use some work,) there is a lot of good material here.

THE ALBUM by BLACKPINK: We may just have to stan. I checked this out after watching their Netflix documentary, and while this breed of cacophonous, in-your-face electropop isn’t something I can listen to all the time, the hooks and charisma are undeniable. It certainly makes me feel like a bad bitch whenever I’m working out.

Kid Krow by Conan Gray: Conan Gray burst onto my radar offering dreamy tracks rich with teen malaise and suburban restlessness, and a good amount of that initial appeal carries over onto this album. Kid Krow has both a larger instrumental scope and more stripped-back moments. In the end, it still feels like Gray is finding his voice as an artist, but he's giving up great bops to jam out to as he does.

Petals For Armor by Hayley Williams: Hayley Williams is one of my favorite vocalists, so seeing her venture out for a solo project was exciting. This album offers a mixed bag of danceable jams, emotive moments that showcase Williams’s powerful voice, and a few skips. But overall it showcases Williams’s strength as a performer as she tackles her past with vulnerability and versatility.

Apart by LÉON: Oh, man. This one was kind of disappointing. For context, LÉON’s self-titled debut was my favorite album of last year. This follow-up is by no means bad, but every song on her first album was instantly memorable. This one, not so much. LÉON’s vocals are beautiful, and there are some stand-out tracks, but I don’t see myself returning to this nearly as much.

Blush by Maya Hawke: Maya Hawke’s Blush was to my 2020 what Tōth’s Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary was to my 2019, (and that makes sense, as they’ve collaborated in the past.) This album is so blissful and nonchalant, and Maya Hawke has a gentle, soothing voice that feels wise beyond her years. While the writing isn’t as hard-hitting as, say, the Phoebe Bridgers album, sometimes I just want to listen to something that could rock me off into a dream world. If you like folksy, down-to-earth ballads, you’ve got a solid collection of them right here.

Dedicated Side B by Carly Rae Jepsen: Of course Queen Carly would pull through with B-sides for Dedicated, did we expect anything less? Jepsen’s brand of controlled yet carefree shimmery poptimism drenched in 80s nostalgia that never fails to put me in a good mood. This album has some lusher, more tropical instrumentation than Dedicated proper, but works great alongside it.

Missing Person by Kelsy Karter: To the Plastic Hearts fans out there, your homework now is to give this record a listen. This rock album presents pop hooks, but a lot of reckless rock fun too. Kelsy Karter has so much irresistible swagger and carefree spirit as a performer, speeding through the emotional highs and lows like she’s burning rubber in a cherry red Cadillac.

how i’m feeling now by Charli XCX: I’ll admit, this album was a bit abrasive to me on first listen. But tracks like “anthems” and “forever” made me return, and it’s a huge grower. If you listen closely, you’ll find the sugary-sweet hooks and relatable sentiments nestled deep in the crunchy hyperpop textures, begging to be discovered and eventually loved.

Jaguar by Victoria Monét: If you enjoyed positions, then check out the debut from one of that album’s most prominent co-writers. Jaguar’s concise collection of silky R&B slow-burners show that Victoria Monet’s is a superstar in her own right.

Some great albums I listened to that didn’t come out this year: Blue by Joni Mitchell, BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA by BLACKPINK, I Need to Start a Garden by Haley Heynderickx, Plastic Beach by Gorillaz, Out in the Storm by Waxahatchee, 7 by Beach House, Dummy by Portishead, Lovers Fevers by Babygirl, and Red by Taylor Swift.

Whether you liked, reblogged, or commented on a post, sent me an ask, or interacted with this blog in any way, thank you so much for all the support throughout the year! I can’t express how much I appreciate it.

What were your favorite albums from this year? Did I miss anything? Send me an ask and let me know. I’ll tell you my thoughts, or put it on my to-listen-to list if I haven’t heard it.

Here’s to 2021! May it clear the extremely low bar set by this year.

#album #EP #album of the year #album recommendation #taste in music 2020 faves #taste in music

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thebandcampdiaries · 4 years ago

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Ember Mikayla - Dissociative Anarchist EP

A punk-rock EP with a timeless, yet catchy sound.

January 2021 - Ember Mikayla is a solo artist and songwriter with a focus on making music that blurs the lines between various genres, including alternative music and punk rock. Recently, she set out to release a brand new EP titled “Dissociative Anarchist.” This release feels like a perfect example of the artist’s approach to creativity and songwriting, going for a direct and one-of-a-kind sound. The release unfolds through four tracks, each setting the bar higher in terms of innovation, and stretching the artist’s sound towards different creative directions and songwriting nuances.

The opening track is titled “Anarchist Skirt.” What makes this song special is that it feels like an immediate introduction to the group’s unadulterated energy. The arrangement has a really direct sound that makes me think of some early Foo Fighters music, especially when it comes to the wall of sound brought on by the guitars. The vocals are hard-hitting and inspiring, at times even reminiscent of iconic vocalists such as Kurt Cobain or the early days of Greg Graffin from Bad Religion, only to mention a few. Having said that, Ember has a unique voice and a distinctive character, which really makes the music all the more personable and direct. The second song “Untouchables” has a really different vibe. It is a lot more melodic and catchy when compared to the angsty vibes of the first single. This track actually makes me think of some of the earlier Blink-182 music (Think Cheshire Cat) as well as iconic bands such as Screeching Weasel, The Queers or Mr. T. Experience, only to mention but a few. It’s all about capturing that unique melodic feel that is at the heart of a great punk band!

This release is a perfect example of the artist’s unique attitude and charismatic approach to songwriting and performance, going for an immediate and earthy sound that favours the human connection between the musicians, rather than hiding their work under an excessive layer of studio trickery.

The third track on this EP, “Dissociative Anarchy” is a fantastic track, and perhaps one of the most unique songs on this release. The tune has influences ranging from punk to grunge, and the vocals are just as direct as you would expect from an artist who is not afraid of telling it like it is! There is also room for an excellent punk cover: a rendition of “Folsom Prison Blues,” which was made famous by the late great Johnny Cash. This cover really makes me think of bands such as Social Distortion, who also managed to release a stunning Johnny Cash cover (of the song “Ring Of Fire.”) There is something about Cash’s music, which really works with punk rock, and the intensity of the lyrics really work with Ember’s unique twist.

Ultimately, I would definitely recommend listening to this particular release, especially if you enjoy the sound of artists such as Against Me! (with the amazing Laura Jane Grace), Cloud Nothings, Dead Rituals, as well as Blink-182, only to mention but a few. Any punk rock fan is immediately going to connect with the sound and feel of this release, which brings such an immediate and easy-to-relate sound to the table, appealing to any fan of great alternative music in general. Ember is a very honest artist, the kind who is not afraid of sharing her feeling and pouring her heart out. Some people never seem to understand this, but even punk rock can be quite an intimate and personal style of music, especially if an artist is as honest and forward-thinking as Ember is, with a willingness to share everything about herself and her vision with the audience. In addition to that, this song has a really beautiful approach to production, and the sound might remind you of some of the best first-wave of punk music, with a bit of a contemporary twist as well for good measure!

Find out more about Ember Mikayla, and do not miss out on this new studio EP, which is currently available on the web.

https://open.spotify.com/album/0pjYi3QoDjZiILne4Vk4oh?si=J9d5cftRTJ2poddL0N3TXw

https://youtube.com/channel/UCBpZ-V4Af34dR-i8rVoroJA

https://www.tiktok.com/@embermikayla

https://www.facebook.com/embermikaylamusic/

https://www.instagram.com/embermikaylamusic/?hl=en

(via https://open.spotify.com/album/0pjYi3QoDjZiILne4Vk4oh?si=EW9kZNsjSYem2HPBTNSSOA)

We also had the chance to ask Ember a few questions: keep reading for more!

I love how you manage to render your tracks so personal and organic. Does the melody come first, or do you focus on the melodies the most?

Usually I usually write the lyrics first but not always. I do have a lot of lyrics that don’t have” music but there are times when i write a really cool riff and add words later. Sometimes I write both together.

Did you perform live before COVID? If so, do you feel more comfortable on a stage or within the walls of the recording studio?

I have performed live before but not with this work that I’m doing now. I have been in bands in the past that did live shows. I do have some social anxieties and get nervous on stage but as soon as I start playing they seem to melt away into the music. Having said that the studio is easier for me not just because of my anxieties but also scheduling with my kids.

If you could only pick one song to make a “first impression” on a new listener, which song would you pick and why?

Probably “Anarchist Skirt” because it kinda gives my background. It explains that I’m a trans woman and that I had a rough life. Also it tells that I’m an anarchist. Those are the things i write about the most, my life experiences and my ideas on anarchy.

What does it take to be “innovative” in music?

I just write and play what I feel. I think that is the best thing anyone can do. Be true to yourself and tell your story. That always makes the best music to me.

Any upcoming release your way?

Yes. I am currently working on a new full length album. I do not have a release date yet but hopefully in the next few months. There is a double album dropping on Jan. 22 titled “F**k You” with tracks that have already been released before but for some reason there was trouble and it was pulled from some places. If you heard the “Heading North” album it is that but with and extra 10 songs that are old acoustic recordings of mine.

Anywhere online where curious fans can listen to your music and find out more about you?

I’m on Spotify, Apple music, Youtube, and all other streaming services. You can also find me on Facebook, Instagram, twitter, tumblr, and tik tok. Just search ember mikayla or ember mikayla music on any of those and you will find me

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realm-sweet-realm · 5 years ago

Text

A Symphony of Nightmares, part 1

This is a fanfiction meant to explore a thoroughly toxic relationship between Sammy Lawrence and Joey Drew. I hope you enjoy.

---

It was December 23rd, and Sammy and Joey were staying at the studio after hours to put together a little workplace Christmas party.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Joey said as they finished up. “Usually I have Wally help me, but you know you’re always my first choice.”

Sammy blushed. Joey really knew how to make a man feel special. “No problem. It’s probably good damage control for my reputation, y’know, because...”

“Oh, stop bringing that up. Here, I brought you something.” Joey handed Sammy a lovely little present with powder blue and mint green wrapping- Sammy’s favourite colours. Inside of it were many things, the first being a matching green and blue card. The card read,

Dear Sammy,

In the past months since we started dating, you have been proven many things to me. You have proven that you share my artistic mind, as well as some of my more obscure interests. More importantly, you have proven, or at least, almost proven, that you’re someone I can trust with my heart and my vision. You are the perfect person for me, perhaps moreso than anyone I’ve ever met, and I think it’s time that I fully bring you into my life. No more distrust. No more punishments. Fewer rules. Just love. Please meet me at Joey Drew Studios tomorrow and we can discuss how.

-Your loving partner, Joey Drew.

Two keys were taped to the inside of the card, and the box also contained some candy and cocoa, a beautiful notebook with a musical note motif for writing songs, and a small bottle of ink with a note taped to it reading “bring tomorrow.”

“Wow. This is really nice. But, are you going to explain the ink? And the keys?”

“Well-“ In that moment, there was a knock at the door. “Oh, the guests are here!”

“Okay, I guess we can talk later. And then you can open your present.” With that, Sammy gave Joey a peck on the cheek and went to answer the door.

Before long, a few dozen employees had arrived, and were having a jolly good time at the party. Sammy Lawrence was enjoying himself as well, but half of him was concentrated on being good, making sure not to seem too warm to anyone Joey, had made off-limits. The wound in on Sammy’s arm still burned from last night, when Joey had taken a lit match to it as a punishment for making him jealous. On his surface, Joey was a man anyone would want in their lives, always full of inspiration and cheer. Behind closed doors, however, his temper and his fear of losing anyone he found himself attached to led Joey Drew to be... a very intense partner would be one way to put it. Sammy had found that out too late. And he felt addicted to Joey, and all the love and excitement and inspiration he brought into Sammy’s life. But Sammy was also deathly afraid of him.

Considering the ink bottle again, Sammy slipped out to head for his sanctuary. The motions of unlocking it, complicated as they were, were automatic to him by now. Finally alone in the dark, Sammy reflected on how this relationship had come to be.

—-

It had started about seven months ago, when Joey had first asked him out to dinner. They had essentially talked the entire night about their shared passion for the arts. At first, Sammy had thought it was stupid. Sammy couldn’t exactly say so in front of his boss, but Joey didn’t make art- he made stupid kid’s shorts. And even apart from that, Sammy had plenty of bones to pick with Joey as a boss. But as the night wore on, Sammy realized that Joey’s appreciation for art was genuine, and came to respect him a little more. He was pleasant enough when he wasn’t busy being a terrible boss. At Sammy’s door, he’d handed him an unlabelled black book. Sammy still remembered Joey’s exact words: “I want you to borrow this. Check it out a bit. I’ve tried some of the activities in it, and well, they really work! The world is wider than you can imagine Sammy, and I want someone to explore it with. You’re a man of passion. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Well, Sammy did look into that tome of Satanic rituals. And he did go to Joey to see them actually work.

It wasn’t too long, maybe two months, before Sammy found himself waiting in an area of town he’d never been to before. It was a poor-looking area, it was getting dark, and he was getting nervous. Joey Drew had always insisted that they meet in a different place every time, for secrecy's sake. Joey had been late that night, and it was spitting rain. Even so, Sammy, normally irritable, was calm. He took another drag on his cigarette, looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time, and propped himself against the brick wall behind him in attempt to look like he belonged in the rough part of town. He was used to this.

Amazing. He, the wimpy, white-collared Sammy Lawrence, was used to waiting around in strange, quiet areas for the opportunity to practice the occult. What Joey had shown him that first night would have converted the most cynical heart. Sammy had never been an atheist, but nor was he especially dedicated to religion- just a churchgoer who seldom thought about the supernatural any time but Sunday mornings. That night, however, he had seen it proven before his eyes that powers beyond his imagination- indeed, beyond the imagination of Christianity or any other religion he knew of, were very real, and very much entwined with the mortal world.

How had that turned into this? Sammy couldn't answer that. Joey had invited him over a second time, let him help with a few rituals performed in his house. Then he lent Sammy a different book so that he could figure out what he wanted to do with his newfound powers. There was no point when his coming over had become an intentional weekly tradition, it just had. And then it came to the point where it wasn't just once a week, but generally multiple evenings that Sammy put into his new hobby. There were supplies to collect, secluded areas to find, and evidence to dispose of. Before he knew it, he was the one suggesting that the two of them go to the woods at night for the first spell involving animal sacrifice that either had ever performed. And beyond that, the candlelit dinners, the sex, the getting drunk and having deep conversations in the woods, the talk as though they were running the studio together- Sammy wondered at when on earth they’d become a couple, and when Joey had become such a big part of his life. Not that Sammy wasn’t enjoying it- Joey might have been a terrible boss, but Sammy was greatly enjoying his personal company.

There were things about Joey that bothered him, though, even then. Six weeks into their relationship, Joey had caught Sammy chatting warmly with Jack in the music room, and had grabbed all but dragged Sammy to his office, holding his wrist tightly enough to leave marks.

“What are you doing, making kissy eyes at the biggest fruit in the studio like that?” Joey had demanded. His fists were curled, and Sammy’s pulse picked up, even though he found the scenario ridiculous.

“I wasn’t making kissy eyes at him. We’re best friends, that’s it,” Sammy halfway snapped. Then, he felt a fist slam into his stomach. His back hit the wall, and Joey held him against it, fist cocked back for a second blow.

“Really?” Joey growled.

“Yes, really! He’s married, I promise,” Sammy cried. Joey let go of him.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll be asking him to make sure, but if you’re telling the truth, I’m sorry. Can we still be partners?”

Sammy hesitated. This is the exact behaviour anyone would tell him to break up with someone over.

A desperate, touchy look fell over Joey’s face. “Keep in mind that it’s all or nothing. I’m not practicing Satanism or lending my books to anyone I can’t trust, one hundred and ten percent.”

“Yeah, let’s stay partners.”

“Good. Maybe we should set some rules so this never happens again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay. Well, how’s about a rule about who you can talk to. Anyone related to you or married is fine, of course, or if they’ve been in a relationship for a while that’s okay. And so are straight men- don’t think you can cheat this rule, though, I always know. And I know you had a thing with Susie Campbell, so I don’t want you talking to single women, either, alright? And especially not Allison Pendle. I can tell she’s a total slut.”

Sammy found the whole thing pretty weird, but he wasn’t at the point of protesting just yet. Satanism meant to much to him. He and Susie weren’t exactly amicable exes anyhow. “Okay. And my rule is that you don’t hit me.”

“Deal,” Joey said, reaching out for a handshake. Sammy returned it firmly. “I love you, alright? I don’t want to hurt you, so keep up your side for me.”

“Right. I love you,” Sammy said, too much hesitation in his voice. “I love you,” he tried again. It was firmer but still didn’t sound quite right.

—-

When had been the next time Joey had hit him? Sammy couldn’t remember. His mind kept traveling back to his first real, hard beating, and that reminded him that he needed to get back to the party and give Wally Franks his present.

Sammy had been storing Wally’s present in his sanctuary all day, which made it pretty convenient now. Hopefully Wally was ready to forgive him. Back in the break room with everyone else around, Sammy tapped Wally on the shoulder while he was talking to Susie.

“Huh? Uh, hey Sammy... What is it...?” Wally’s awkward smile was reminiscent of a cringing puppy who’d been caught red-handed.

“I brought something for you.”

“Thanks.” Wally took the box and lifted its lid. “A chocolate cake. That’s real considerate.”

“Yeah. Remember the time you ate my chocolate cake right out of its box when I left it in my office?” Sammy took care to sound good-natured about that. “You looked so shocked when I walked in on you. We’ve has some pretty funny moments, haven’t we?”

“Ha ha, yeah, ah guess. Look, I don’t wanna offend you but I don’t feel comfortable takin’ this. Sorry for avoiding you, though. I’ll try to stop.”

Sammy’s face fell. “Okay, I get it.”

With that, Wally handed him back the box and walked (a little too fast) back into the crowd.

“Sorry,” Susie said. “He told me that he forgives you, but y’know. He was scared of you even before the... incident... and he’s having trouble being comfortable with you again. If it helps, I want to be friends again. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now, so why keep avoiding each other?”

Because Susie was high on Joey’s list of people he couldn’t talk to. “I’ll think about it, alright Susie?” Sammy said, businesslike, before going to look for Joey. All he could think was how pathetic Wally was. Really, avoiding him like this after one little punch to the face?

—-

It was early November, and Sammy was in his office, attempting to focus on songwriting. If he let his mind stray, it inevitably strayed to the night before, when Joey had beaten him until he bled. And yet, he didn’t feel scared or tearful. Instead, he was furious.

There were no two ways about it, leaving this relationship would be risky on multiple fronts, and Sammy wasn’t sure he could do it. The most obvious was that Joey could- and likely would- fire him. As well, Sammy was enthralled enough with Satanism that he was just about willing to be beaten if it meant he didn’t have to give it up. And, of course, there was the issue that Joey might beat him to a pulp for breaking up- maybe even kill him.

God, Sammy had been so stupid! Why had he thought that it was a good idea to be in a relationship with his boss? Why had he thought he could work the magic of the devil himself without becoming so intoxicated? Why was he allowing himself to be mistreated like this? Why was he such a-

A knock on the door interrupted Sammy’s internal rant. Probably some idiot needing to use the pump switch. Sammy got up and opened the door to see Wally Franks.

“Hey, Mr. Lawrence. You sure look angry.” There was a slightly apologetic tone to Wally’s voice, and Sammy immediately knew what he was there for: some keys to borrow so that could retrace his steps and find his own. Growling, Sammy snatched the keys from his pocket, threw them at Wally, and turned back to his desk.

“...You okay?” Wally asked hesitantly, slowly approaching the angered musician. “That’s a pretty dark-lookin’ bruise you got under your collar there-“

In that moment, Sammy lost all self-control and swung his fist into Wally’s jaw, knocking a tooth out and two others loose. The action shocked Sammy as much as it did Wally.

“Oh my God. Wally, I’m sorry! Can I take you to the infirmary?”

Wally whimpered a no and left Sammy’s office with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Sammy was frozen in shock. He knew he was in trouble, and he supposed he deserved to be. After a couple minutes of waiting for the other shoe to drop, he went back to his sheet music as a distraction. Sammy wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Joey took a seat opposite to him. Sammy couldn’t quite look Joey in the eyes.

“So, you hit him,” Joey began, his voice somber. “I’d be a hypocrite to fire you, and I wouldn’t want to do that to my main man, anyways. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to give a public apology to Wally, with me there to mediate. I’ve offered Wally a raise to keep his mouth shut about this to the police. Of course, if this does get out, I’m going to have to let you go for the company’s sake, but until then, I’m going to do everything I can to keep you hired and out of jail. That’s a promise.” Joey gave Sammy a pat on the shoulder, and Sammy winced. “Oops, did I hit a bruise?” Sammy nodded. Joey patted him on the arm instead before leaving.

Once he’d had the time to collect his thoughts, Sammy realized that there was no breaking up with Joey for now- not while this was still fresh in everyone’s memories and he still needed Joey’s protection. But by the time it felt safe to risk making Joey angry, Sammy didn’t want to break up anymore. By then, the beating seemed like an eternity ago, and his most recent memories of Joey were positive. I mean, yes, he did get the occasional punch, burn, or threat, but by then Sammy was used to it. And Sammy had hit Wally- maybe a bit of a temper was just something men of passion like them had. He’d even struck Joey once or twice, and Joey had handled it like a sport. Really, Wally was being such a baby over one punch. Sammy could remember Jack knocking on his door to ask for use of his keys several times in the past couple weeks, and he had no doubt that he was just fetching them for Wally. It was the only time Jack spoke to him now, and he, like a lot of Sammy’s coworkers, had gone cold on him. It had been kind of lonely, especially since a lot of Sammy’s old friends from outside the studio were now off-limits.

At least he had Joey. Maybe they were the only people capable of handling each other.

---

Sammy didn’t even know what Joey wanted from him, so he supposed the best way to figure out if he should agree to it was to go to the little meeting Joey had arranged and to hear him out. So, here he was, at the entrance of Joey Drew Studios with that bottle of ink clutched in his hand. Joey greeted him with a “Merry Christmas Eve!” and a kiss on the lips. They got into the elevator together and Joey sent them down to the very basement.

“So, Sammy. I know our relationship hasn’t exactly been perfect. And I want it to be perfect. I honestly do! I think you’re the perfect partner for me. I don’t want to have to tell you who not to talk to. I don’t want to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to leave me. So, it’s time that I addressed some problems in our relationship. First, I’m sensing that you have some resentment towards me at work, because of the ink machine.”

“Well, yes,” Sammy admitted. “I mean, it's a thorn in everyone’s side and no one knows what it’s for!”

“Well, I don’t want it to inconvenience you. One of the keys I gave you is for the finance manager’s office. You can switch offices with him after Christmas so you won’t have to deal with the pump switch anymore. And I can tell you what the ink machine does if you just make a promise with me.”

“I’m... listening.”

Joey slipped a small bottle of ink that matched Sammy’s out his pocket. “This ink machine could be the next step in our ventures into the occult, Sammy. We should both give ourselves over to it, see what role it chooses for us both. If you can do that with me, well, I’ll be able to trust you entirely. I’ll let you talk to whoever you want, and I’ll never hit you again. In a couple weeks or whenever’s convenient, you could even move in with me. What do you say?”

Sammy had heard the “I’ll never hit you again” line before, but he’d never heard Joey even suggest letting him talk to anyone. “You’ll let me talk to Susie?” Sammy asked.

“Why?” Joey spat, suddenly defensive.

“She forgives me for... you know, Wally. She wants to be friends again. That’s all.”

“Oh, okay. I suppose so.”

Sammy turned the ink bottle in his hands. The long nights they’d spent preparing spells that went horribly wrong, getting drunk, complaining and laughing about the other workers, the sex, the conversations. Was it worth the bad? Especially if it could get better? Sammy uncorked the bottle. “I’ll do it.”

Joey uncorked his bottle. “Thank you. And cheers!”

They clinked their ink bottles and threw them back. For Sammy, it was a bittersweet, salty, viscous liquid that he could barely choke down. For Joey it was as sweet as syrup. Immediately after they were done, Joey showed Sammy to the inside of the ink machine. Suddenly, Sammy wondered if downing the ink was actually symbolic. What would happen to him now? Would it be worth it? Joey loved him. Joey wouldn’t want harm to come to him. He’d have to trust that it was worth it.

---

I get that this one was pretty slow moving. Do you guys want a part two? I could just make it a one-off.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #a symphony of nightmares #joey x sammy #my fanfiction #joey drew #sammy lawrence #wally franks

22 notes · View notes

gh0stbird · 4 years ago

Note

Okay Now Do The Rest

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Bright but argumentative. I was never afraid of pointing out things I didn’t feel were fair hfhddh

When we were learning numbers kids would often write 91 for nineteen, just flip them, y’know, and Ms. Potter yelled at the class for it. Baby Generiq went into it about how it was an understandable mix up because you do say the number first. In twenty-three you write the two first, so in nineteen it’s easy to assume you would write the nine first.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tired.

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows. Every book adaptation should also be a series not a movie. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Honeysuckle and sunshine

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Floor hockey! My friend and I used to be brutal and swing at each other’s shins going after the ball. Also it was reminiscent of golf, which I competed in.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I have an untitled playlist I cycle my current music in and out of, but Newton’s Third Law is my favorite named one!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t- I guess the yellow smarties. Don’t come for me they taste like lemonade.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I assume this means assigned book and not the reports we got to pick for ourselves. Ah, Night was good. Lord of the Flies was fine but way overhyped. Again, don’t come for me.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

If I can tuck my legs into the chair I am sitting in that is ideal!

18. ideal weather?

When you know it is going to rain and you get to stay home

19. sleeping position? (Skipped on accident)

I reeeally like pressure, so either against something or on my stomach.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone notes and a notebook! Sometimes a blank document but I always find it strangely intimidating

21. obsession from childhood?

Warrior Cats, Percy Jackson, and Maximum Ride were my big three!

22. role model?

Aa I try to straw from people I want to copy, but there are talents I look up to. Rachel Chavkin is a brilliant director, and there are so many artists and authors I look up to and who inspire me.

24. favorite crystal?

Obsidian because it’s black like my hea- I’m kidding, I do love obsidian, but it’s Rose Quartz because it’s a very very pretty, soft pink and makes me happy.

25. first song you remember hearing?

The mobile above my crib played Imagine by John Lennon. My childhood room was themed after it as well!

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim or sit in the sunshine. Ben and I usually go driving with the top down as well.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Walking through fresh snow is amazing, so are snowball fights and building snowmen.

28. five songs to describe you?

Oh fuck yes

Hurricane - Hamilton

The Reckless and the Brave - All Time Low

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog

All This and Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine

Facade - Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical Thriller

30. places that you find sacred?

I don’t typically find places sacred, but certain headspaces are very special to me, and time spent with loved ones means more than enough to be considered sacred.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A black blazer with a white button-down and a skirt.

32. top five favorite vines?

I am in Missouri (misery)

I love you, Bitch

I want a Church girl

Obama’s “I know because I won both of them”

I won’t hesitate, Bitch!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“No worries”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

That fucking PFI bandana boot sale I stg

35. average time you fall asleep?

Somewhere between 9:00 and three in the morning

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Some girl doing bunny ears on her friend. I don’t remember what the caption was

38. lemonade or tea?

Both. Mixed together. It’s called an Arnold Palmer and it is my favorite drink

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

We duck taped out principal to the wall once. Also some kid broke their tray over another kid’s head at lunch one time.

41. last person you texted?

The family group chat, though Beau if Discord counts

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I wear a lot of leggings so jacket pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

We had some Lily of the Valley hand soap that was amazing

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, I think! I’ve never done super heavy into the other two. Though I definitely don’t want to ignore sci-fi because two of my favorite stories are a little science-fiction-y

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A t-shirt and shorts

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

A banana. Generally accepted as a fruit and kind of just rolls with it, but is actually a berry

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

I fucking hate Hamilton-ing on main, but

“And when my prayers to god were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance!”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

That changes every time Beau and I play HetaOni together, but I have fucking lost it for at least five minutes the last two sessions.

51. current stresses?

I dunno, man, life? My hair could use a wash

52. favorite font?

Covered by your Grace and I’m a big Spectral baby. These are both google docs! I don’t know if that makes a difference.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Patience is important when teaching material, but never be afraid to find another approach better suited to the person you’re tutoring.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Robin Hood!

56. favorite tradition?

My family does homemade Springfield cashew chicken for Christmas!

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhh lots of self-acceptance shit no one really wants to read

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can pop the joint at the center of my foot

That’s all

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I sort of like my role as mom friend, so maybe I could keep that role in a sort of action-based anime that followed a group of friends

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“I am not the protégé to waste your time on; I'm complete!” Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

62. seven characters you relate to?

Haha

Lisa Carew - Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

Japan - Hetalia/Oni

Garnett - Steven Universe

Hfhddh that’s all I can say that aren’t my own characters

63. five songs that would play in your club?

I Don’t Like Clubs, but

Overwhelmed - Royal + The Serpent

Backseat Serenade - All Time Low

Go Big or Go Home - American Authors

The Nights - Avicii

Tempo - Lizzo

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz!

65. any permanent scars?

Yep - One from a bad bike wreck. My body rejected the dissolvable stitches so it’s a lot bigger than it was supposed to be

66. favorite flower(s)?

Lily of the Valley, daisies, Day Lilies, and Dandelions! I also love honeysuckles but I don’t know if those count.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Accidentally drank rancid milk once!

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? (Haha, nice)

The fastest, free way to fill up your potions on Wizard101 is to play Potion Motion to level three.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

On myself, animal print

72. worst subject?

I’ve never been intuitively good at History, I do think it’s interesting though.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I don’t like to take it until I can’t move without it.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Kindergarten? I had mono and then scarlet fever twice, so my baby teeth were pretty much ruined and they all fell out very fast.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Curly fries!

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Kalanchoe’s, it literally Window’s Thrill. These babies are fairly temperamental outside and love partial sun, so the window is the perfect spot for them. And! If you keep them happy! They’ll bloom! My personal favorite is the pink bloom.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

What’s wrong with coffee from a gas station? Also I don’t like seafood.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Lightning bugs

82. pc or console?

PC!

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts - talk radios actually tend to get under my skin for n o reason

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, but let it be known I was brutal with mine. We did human sacrifices and the like.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology!

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but I’m a slut for whipped frosting

87. your greatest fear?

Losing control!

88. your greatest wish?

A life beyond where I am now. Haha Stop chasing new down the hallway you’re so sexy haha

90. luckiest mistake?

Logged into Omegle in like 2015 and some rando asked me to join their Doctor Who roleplay. Luckiest moment of my gd life.

91. boxes or bags?

Bags! They’re easier to store

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight! But in the late afternoon when everything is bathed in orange.

93. nicknames?

Mom is the most prevalent!

94. favorite season?

Fall into winter. Peak leaf crunch!

95. favorite app on your phone?

Discord or Notes

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leslea · 4 years ago

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One Day of Summer

The Covid has done its best to force us to skip past summer. No swimming, no amusement parks, no winery concerts, no summer camp for the kids, no summer sports (wrestling, tennis), no drive-in movies, no summer reading club...

Okay, so there is still a summer reading club, but without the promise of tangible prizes and trips to the library, I can’t get the kids interested. So, it doesn’t count!

However, the good news is, we have remained healthy. We are all working, those of us who are old enough to work. We have a new student driver. Time marches on!

And today, before school starts inexplicably too soon (again), NEXT WEEK, we stole a day of summer. We got together as a family, all six of us, and had an outing. I chose Schooner Valley Stables in Nashville, IN as the destination. We had a good experience with them a few years ago and we were looking forward to another. I figured it was a low risk environment, since you don’t come into contact with many people, and those you do are wearing masks. The kids were excited to go, so off we went!

After coaxing and prodding all my late risers out the door, we hit the road. The conversation was disgustingly peppered with comments about flatulence and belching (which I refer to as “face farting,” and for once the kids saw the logic in that). We banned the topic, so naturally it kept coming back up. We stopped for snacks in Columbus, Indiana, and then headed west toward Nashville.

When we reached Gnaw Bone, we passed a sign saying “Story, 10 miles” and pointing south, so I impulsively took it, explaining that we would grab lunch in Story and check it out, since we’d never been there. I told the kids it had a General Store, and they were sold! A few minutes later, we encountered construction traffic.

The kids grew more and more restless as we waited for our turn to drive down the one way country back road, which adjoins Brown County State Park. It is a rural back road, the kind that winds through the hills and the trees and often disappears into gravel. The longer we sat, the more one of the boys complained that he had to go to the restroom. Inexplicably, the conversation turned once again to potty talk, before making a wild right angle into the realm of pot. The same boy who needed to go to the restroom informed us that he thought he saw a lot of marijuana plants ringing a corn field that we’d passed. As he put it, “weed.” He wanted to know how it grew out in a field like that, if it was “supposed” to grow inside under lights. Tim explained that it grows everywhere, which is why it is called a “weed,” and that people who use grow lights are hiding illegal drugs in their basements and trying to not get caught. SO. That ate up a few minutes of the traffic stop. Next piped up the baby of the group, asking if this subject was the same as “the weed for smoking,” followed quickly by my instant regret in letting the conversation go on in the first place.

Now, I know marijuana is legal in much of the country, but it isn’t here, and the last thing I need is her telling her classmates, “What did I do this summer? Oh, I went horseback riding and learned about the weed for smoking.”

On the other hand, I believe in educating my kids. If they want to know what drugs are, I will explain to them what I know, which also goes back to the RISKs of such things. And, truthfully, I don’t know a ton about drugs, per se, but...now the baby knows about as much as I do, so...sigh.

The traffic was stopped for about 20 minutes, which was just about untenable for the kids. I told them about the many times I sat still on the highway trying to get off on an exit to see a concert. I don’t know if concerts even work like that now! It was tough for them to imagine sitting 3 hours in a hot car with no air conditioning. As we waited, the radio played John Mellencamp’s “Cherry Bomb,” because of course it did.

When the road reopened, it was a scenic drive to Story, Indiana, which was sadly closed. THEY HAD A GENERAL STORE! And a restaurant. And wine. *sad face*. We contented ourselves with taking photos in the garden, and headed back to town for food.

On the way, Tim suggested we avoid the construction and take Horseman’s Camp Road, which just happens to be the road that runs right through Brown County State Park. The hospitable lady at the gate let us cut through, which was quite nice, although I would have been fine paying admission. She told us to look for the signs that said “North Gate,” so every time we passed a sign, multiple people would say “This way,” or “North gate,” or whatever...and at the last minute, Sean would yell, “NORTH GATE!” It instantly became a meme, along with face farting.

ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY DRIVE INTO NORTH GATE!

It sounds very silly, because it was. On our way through the park, the kids expressed a desire to come back and see it for real, so I said maybe we could, post-covid. Come up and get a cabin for a week or something. We passed several scenic vistas that were just breathtaking, so naturally the kids were like, “Eh,” though they did at least turn their heads each time and look.

Next up, we sampled the fine dining Nashville is known for...McDonald’s!

Honestly, I wish we could have stopped at the Birds’s Nest Cafe, my favorite, or any of the other local cafes, but we really only had time by that point for a quick snack at the Golden Arches. After gobbling down our sustenance, we were off to Schooner Valley!

Schooner Valley was tremendous fun. The staff and volunteers really make you feel at home and the horses are just well-loved and beautiful. They’re not tired old trail horses...although by 3 pm in the hot weather, they sort of were...they still required a little guidance, especially my horse, Karma. She was a bossy lady, but she did as asked, eventually! The kids all had a great time, not just riding through gorgeous Yellowwood Forest, but also in bossing each other around about the proper form for riding. They weren’t shy about bossing me, either. You’d never know I’ve been riding for years.

We finished out our ride in a gentle rain shower that turned into a downpour as we dismounted. The rain felt cool and refreshing, as both our humans and our horses were soaked in sweat. We rode for over and hour, and my old bones and weak muscles were screaming on the way to the car. I admit, I limped a little. I’m a lot heavier right now than I want to be! All the kids and Tim were stiff, I think, except for the two youngest, who are by far the most fit. What amazing exercise that was!

We tried to roll into Nashville for a celebratory ice cream for all the kids, but it was impossible. Chocolate Moose was closed due to Covid-19 (waiting for test results, the sign on the window said!) The other ice cream parlor in town was not safe for us re: peanut/tree nut allergies...so back to McDonald’s! It’s ironic...there is nothing like going to a fun, quirky, tourist-oriented place and just end up eating McDonald’s. So wrong, but for the kids, it was so right.

It rained while the sun shined, something that I’ve usually only seen here at the Treehouse. “Where’s the rainbow?” Sean asked.

We did a little rubbernecking, checking out the area when we saw a for sale sign on a country road. Brown County gets very rural, very fast. More so than Floyd County where we live. I shouldn’t be surprised. I have spent a lot of time in rural Indiana--REAL Indiana, not this semi-suburban rural adjacent kind of place that we adoringly hail from. Where we live, we are metro Louisville, really. REAL Indiana is country AF. It’s corn and potential pot plants and pulling over on a gravel road to ask a man in denim overalls if we’re headed the right direction, knowing he’s going to help. REAL Indiana is a paved road turning suddenly into a gravel road. A trailer next to a log cabin. An artist colony that hides away some of the best scenic views in the country, and a sweet State Park employee who lets you cut through just because the kids are hungry and she can tell you’re not lying to get free admission.

We talked all the way home, through a downpour that lasted about an hour. I almost took the back way through Seymour to avoid the rain, but it let up not long after we passed Muscatatuck. Tim and Sam were both falling asleep. The kids thanked us for the trip...I suggested maybe we could go back this fall. Two of them said yes and two said they needed to think about it. Tim reminded me about Covid. I agreed to put it off for a bit.

The kids reminisced about Piomingo, looking forward to next summer so much. Sean suggested that instead of a trip this fall, we build our own slide at home like the one at Piomingo. He suggested we dig a tunnel and have the slide go underground, before emptying us out into the creek at the back of our property. We shall see.

To the east of the highway emerged an enormous rainbow. Seamus took a photo.

We won’t get to swim this summer. We could. We could make our way to Buffalo Trace or some other semi-local beach, but I can’t take the risk. We’re all healthy right now. I can’t risk some rando swimming up to the kids and ruining that, and I definitely do NOT want to be that mom standing at the beach screaming “SOCIAL DISTANCING! SOCIAL DISTANCING!”

So we had one day of summer. Farts and belches were the topic du jour, only intensified by the horses pooping on the trail. It wasn’t the kind of conversation I would have chosen, but it was EXACTLY the kind of day. Adventurous, spontaneous, full of laughter and fun and a bit of sweat and excitement.

We arrived home smelling of horses and happiness.

#summer #horseback riding #covid19 #brown county #family outing #big family #nashville indiana

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erineliz · 4 years ago

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I spent a lot of time thinking about and writing about my favorite Taylor Swift albums of all time and ranking them. It was a lot of work but I’d love to see other fans rankings and read why. Here’s mine:

1.folklore

2.fearless

3.reputation

4.taylor Swift

5.speak now

6.Red

7.lover

8.1989

So now that folklore has been out awhile, I’ve listened to it, memorized it, loved it. I’ve been reminiscing on old albums now, as you do. My album ranking opinion is probably a super unpopular one in the t-swift fandom that I follow but, I’m a different kind of swiftie I suppose. So I’ll try to further explain my opinions on these albums.

Starting from the bottom,

1989: this is last for me but in no way means it’s a bad album, I mean something has to be last but this one just was not my wildest dream lol. It started off with the release of shake it off before the rest of the album and this was the beginning of Taylor releasing my least favorite song first on quite a few albums (followed by LWYMMD and YNTCD, but we’ll get to those later) I love, love,love blank space and it was a huge bop for a long time after I first heard it. Prob the only thing that made me even want to listen to the rest of the album. Because, as you can see red didn’t fall very high on my list so to follow it up with just shake it off made me kind of feel like, am I over t Swift? 😯 shocking, I know. I was a senior in college when this was released, blank space was played loudly at a few house parties and I loved that everyone loved it too, not just me; a long time lover of swift. It always feels like an I told you so moment when people who aren’t swifties like one of her songs. I never bought this album, and didn’t have Apple Music at the time so I feel like I never really gave it the time and appreciation it deserved. Almost every song on it became a single and I did like a lot of them. The first time I heard New Romantics was when my sister was playing the deluxe cd in her car and I was like, what is this? I loved that song. I think I then looked into the album more and listened to the rest. It was ok, I liked clean because I was going through a breakup. I liked how you get the girl, I thought it was creative and also kind of related to my break up. Out of the woods was too repetitive for me, the rest of the songs were played on the radio so much that they just became overplayed and annoying to me. So yeah, although this was her most successful album by far, I think it was just too mainstream, over played and not for me! But still good overall, you know, because, it’s Taylor Swift.

Lover: it was hard for me to put this this low, because again, not a bad album. It started off by Releasing YNTCD and Me! Before the rest of the album and again I was just like meh... but I knew better in my career as a swiftie that these two singles meant nothing for what the rest of album would be. I really like a lot of the songs on this album, London boy, daylight, false god, cruel summer, the man..all really good! But just nothing that went down as a favorite swift song of all time. I love the aesthetic of this album, probably one of my faves. I love that it’s about love, it came out last year, right when I bought a house with my lover, and I listened to it many hours while painting our walls before we moved in. I feel like Taylor and I have gone through it all together, and lover was the epitome of where my relationship was with my fiancé, just like her and joe �� we made it through all the heartbreaks and this was the purple pink sky at the end of the tunnel! But still, she has made way better music IMO.

Red: This is the swift album that everyone thinks got snubbed by the Grammy’s. Most swifties would scoff at this ranking as well. But..again not a bad album, this album has some of her BEST songs/lyrics. But..also it has, and it hurts me to say this, some of her worst as well. Red is good, but if we’re taking albums as a WHOLE, that you can listen too without any skips, this is not that one for me. This album does have some of my favorite of all time songs: all too well(give me the 8 minute version,damnit), red, state of grace, treacherous. But then it also has..stay,stay,stay which I really think is just like, so corny and fake, you can tell it’s not about her life, it’s like a little country twangy but still like bubble gum pop. It just rubs me the wrong way and gets a skip when listening. This album was a huge turning point in her country to pop timeline and it has a good mix of her pop bops along with her pretty little guitar poetry. The pop singles on this album were not my fave. 22 is fun, I was 20-21 when this came out and everyone was jamming 22 on their 22nd b-days. IKYWT got sooo overplayed and annoying. Same with WANEEGBT. I love my t-swift deep cut, sad songs but some of these were just trying too hard at that, like sad beautiful tragic and the moment I knew. They were just tooo dramatic for me. But idk, maybe it’s just because I wasn’t going through heartbreak when this came out, I was about 3 years into a 6 year relationship so heartbreak hadn’t been relatable for awhile and wasn’t going to be for awhile longer. I loved the duets with Ed and Gary, so glad we got that again on folklore! I also think that this album appeals way more to a younger audience. I think I grew up a little by 2012 compared to when I was crying over boys listening to the first albums, not just in a sense of heartbreak but also like just the parts of red that are a little corny to me. I think she was still aiming for the young teeny bopper pop and I was kind of growing out of that stage in music, broadening my horizons if you will. I started listening to swift when I was like 15. I think I just was a little ahead of the target generation that this album was made for: But I still just wasn’t done with her or this album due to the minor cheesy parts. Because then she puts shit on there like the fucking bridge of all too well and I’m like ok she is still the greatest writer of all time. This was a long explanation for red, but I have so many feelings about it. And also, yeah.. it didn’t deserve a Grammy, all things considered. All too well could have had one for song of the year, but whatever.

Speak Now: this was a good album, I think it was very similar to fearless but not quite as iconic. fearless has kept its high rank over the years so because this was so similar, I can’t put it too low. It was exactly what I wanted after fearless, also I think it kind of explains too why red was a bit of a let down..it was a huge change from fearless and speak now. I guess I’m just slow to adapt to change? But anyways speak now has some of the best deep cuts, dear john, last kiss both so beautifully written. Real, raw. We all knew who they were about and the drama of these relationships was exciting because these were the days that’d we’d all hear stuff about who she was dating but never get the full story. then later hear about it in her albums..it was nice to get that kind of honesty from a celebrity, made us feel like we really knew her. Sparks fly is up there as favorite song of all time. Mean was such a clap back to her critics and had the country vibe and twang from her first album. Also, this album had songs about John Mayer, joe Jonas, Taylor lautner..and Kanye west? All huge names at the time. I have to admit, the Kanye west innocent song was a huggeee let down at the time. I know this bitch had worse thing to say than “you’re still an innocent” but..she was very deep into playing her nice girl role at the time. So thank god there was a rep era later on down the road! I was a freshman in college when this came out. Living in dorm rooms, listening to music on my laptop late at night with the lights out.

Taylor Swift: this is up there, because it just has to be. This is where it all started. Listening to country radio, hearing Tim McGraw for the first time. I myself being a huge Tim McGraw fan thinking, I hope someone does think of me when they think of Tim McGraw lol. And then, just on a whim somehow, looking up other songs by her..just to see. Now in 2006, looking up songs by an artist wasn’t as easy a task as it is now. I illegally downloaded music on limewire still at this point. And would then burn it to cds. And would later get my first iPod and transfer everything to that, because who wants to pay a dollar per song on iTunes? I’m sorry Taylor, but Not my mother. So, being 14-15, I had to find my own ways. Stay beautiful, our song, cold as you, picture to burn, should’ve said no..these songs were the words I was looking for in high school, going through teenage love and heart ache. Feeling the exact same way as her and wanting to just write these words on a paper and fucking send it to all these boys who made me sad. Wanting to be a famous singer just so these people could see how I feel and how they ruined everything. Pretending that Mary’s song was the story of my lover and I in an imaginary world. Like, for real. This album did something to me, because of this album no matter what happens in this life, if Taylor puts out music, I’m going to listen to it..just to see.

Reputation: this album was a huge turning point for her. And for me, as her fan. It was after 1989, so I wasn’t like, obsessively waiting to see what would be next. The whole cancel tswift thing happened and I heard about it, but it wasn’t like a huge deal. I was on her side, she didn’t do anything wrong and people were so quick to jump down her throat. but musically after 1989, I was not a hardcore swiftie, I still hadn’t adapted to the all pop era. I needed my Taylor swift on a guitar, pouring her heart out in her lyrics. And then, this happened and it was, for me, way better pop than anything on 1989 or red, by far. I was back to my obsessive swiftie ways, but in a whole new way. Every song on the album was a jam, she was speaking her mind, finally saying wayy more about kanye (and kim, ugh) than what we got on speak now.(ironic, because to me this album is when she really started to speak and didn’t play the nice girl anymore) not only that but, this was a love album and I related to it in so many ways. I was finally out of that 6 year relationship, and had a bit of a “reputation” (not really, but some bridges were burned and people talk a lot about things they no nothing about when you end something that lasted 6 years) and I had met someone new. I related to every love song on this album so much and it meant so much because, like Taylor, after all the bullshit that happened, finding the right person is everything. She had never been more relatable. I feel like her pop music finally grew up enough for me. She was doing pop in a new way and I was here for it.

Fearless: this one has stood the test of time. A classic. No skip album. Country, but her first intro to pop crossover with love story, but unlike a lot of her early pop hits, love story didn’t get old and overplayed for me. It’s not like my favorite song now, but when it blew up, I was about it. Beautiful writing on this whole album. It was the first album I bought. The physical cd. It came out when I was just learning to drive. Driving on my own and blasting this album singing at the top of my lungs along with it with no one to tell me to turn it down or change the song solidified the love story I had with fearless. Blasting you’re not sorry over and over again, (a top 5 song of all time) it made me want to learn to play piano (I didn’t). White horse playing on grays anatomy (my fave show at the time). Listening to fifteen at age 16 for the first time thinking, yes this is so true and I’m so much older and wiser now 🤣 . I was a colbie caillat fan before I knew who Taylor was. Hey Stephen was cute AF. Wished that I had the courage to say things like that to my crushes. Forever and always after my first breakup. It just hit so hard. I can always go back to this album, and have, over the years. My first tswift concert with my only other friend that liked her. It was before any of the drama that came out in the news about her. It’s when She started to blow up in popularity, I’d start to religiously follow things she was doing, interviews, videos on tour, and fell in love with her personality. This girl was talented and hilarious and pretty and smart. I wanted to be her so bad.

Folklore: although it’s still new and fresh, I really think it’s the best yet. For me it’s Taylor swift come full circle. It has the writing, some of her best lyrics yet. It has the age and wisdom that we have watched her gracefully acquire over the years. It’s not pop but it still has the catchy tunes that get stuck in your head, but in a quieter, simpler way. It takes loads more talent to get these songs on the charts than it did with her tried and true formula that she has used in the past for a pop song. She perfected that art, but this is a new level now. It’s not trying too hard, it’s honest. It’s still about love and how far she (and I 😭) have come in that journey. Yet it still has the heartbreak, teenage angst that only she can describe so beautifully. Cardigan might be best of all time. Betty takes me back to something on fearless. Mirror ball and August are light, airy, upbeat and just unique. TLGAD is her storytelling at its finest, yet also a quick fuck you to those who think she’s “ruined” anything. She had a marvelous time. It’s also that personal level, we’ve seen the photos of her and all her friends at this house and it just makes you feel like you’ve been there or something. Exile takes me back to red and I love this duet so much. Invisible string is so.well.written. The concept, so beautiful. The story of her and joe. Details we’ve never heard before. The lakes really ties it all together for me. It’s everything. We’re all isolated right now, but this song speaks to me so much. I’m not a big social media person, I like the simple things in life. I like to read, to write, my circle of friends is dwindling as we all get older and that’s ok because I have the love of my life and that’s all I need. It also speaks to how isolated I feel as a t swift fan, not that there is any shortage of swifties out there, but all the people I am close with are not fans of hers. And that’s fine, we have different tastes in music, whatever. But to me the best thing about Taylor has always been her writing, her poetry. I like the sad sappy songs, I want the auroras and sad prose (I also love the concept of not moving for years) this song has it all, even another subtle fuck you to her critics again. Who are you to tell her what her words are worth? They are better than any other artists’ out there. So many other dumb ass musicians out there that don’t even write any of their music who want to say Taylor isn’t “that great”. To me her words are everything. Folklore is everything. And it’s all hers! That’s huge. I feel like with her owning more of her shit now she can also be free to do whatever the fuck she wants. There’s no pressure for a tour on this album, (fucking covid 🙄) which may have influenced how she wrote it..no fancy dance numbers needed here. Without a big record label down her throat too she may have had more freedom, maybe to not have a hit single (although she still does) there’s no super mainstream straight pop BOP like every other album has had. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for her and her music. Oh and you want to talk about Grammys? GIVE IT TO FOLKLORE.

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swordedfool · 4 years ago

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kisses w all the guys pls ill cry

kisses? sure !!

⌜ ☼ ⌟ ――― 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼

the waves were particularly pristine that night. having visited the beach earlier that day, romeo was tired out. but it didn’t mean his heart wasn’t doing cartwheels in his chest because of the person walking beside him. she was totally oblivious to the way his eyes practically formed hearts in direction, aloof to how she looked under the moonlight, and clueless to how she made him feel in general. romeo’s advances on seren had always been met with a laugh or a shrug or a giggle, always taking it for a joke. at that point, he had grown rather used to it. but it didn’t stop him from wishing that she would take him seriously, that she would give him a chance. the problem he found was that his words often lose their meaning in the way he says it. maybe it was why he was particularly quiet tonight. and she noticed.

“ you’re awfully quiet. are you alright? ”.

her concern towards others always blew him away. and what rendered him quiet was the fact that she hardly asked him whether he was alright. but that was mostly because he pretended to be okay, brushed off an injury like a simple graze, smiled through any ache in his chest. hearing her ask that question she’s heard her ask the others a dozen times was not good for him. it just made his heart clench more.

romeo chuckled and nodded, “ sure. just a bit tired, that’s all. mind if go sit down for a bit? my legs are tired. ” receiving a nod, he led them to a nearby bench. it reminded him briefly of their first proper conversation in the school outdoor yard, sitting under a blue sky, talking about her plans to put together a team. it felt like a long time since then.

immediately after taking his seat, he noticed the girl beside him move to fix her bow. shifting over, he drew the distance between them smaller and immediately reached towards her hair and caressed it gently, moving her fingers away and fixing the bow himself. “ oh, thank you. i just can’t seem to get it to stay still lately ”, seren grumbled. he hummed and could only afford to admire her side profile, lingering in this proximity until she rose her gaze and smiled at him questioningly. “ what’s up? ”.

why must she assume something is always wrong? it was a detail about her romeo grew fond of over time, something that caused him to smile as he fixed her bow but did not retreat his hands, brushing his trembling fingers through her hair and risking a peek at her reaction. she continued to beam at him, never raising a brow, never questioning his next move. she was too innocent for him sometimes, hence why most his advances went over her head so quickly and so easily.

it felt criminal to suddenly lean in, but what was more criminal was her reaction, how the blush flooded to her cheeks in an instant and did unspeakable things to his heart. he dared to tuck one strand of hair behind her ear, tapping her chin with a minor chuckle. it felt inappropriate that his mind had gone blank, only the thought of kissing her became his priority. “ i really want to kiss you right now ”, he admitted with slight hesitation, far unlike the normal romeo who would go with the flow. he just didn’t want it to feel forceful.

“ oh ”, seren replied, he was starting to blush nearly as badly as her. “ i-i can’t promise i’ll be very good at it, i’m not exactly smooth when it comes to these things. so if it sucks i’m sorry-- .” he had to cut her off, cupping her cheek and locking his lips with hers, sealing a dream that he would only see in his sleep. on cue, both their eyes fluttered closed. he felt like she had taken his breath away, so he moved slowly, his kiss like a ghost against her lips, his hand still caressing her hair lovingly. his heart? well it never stopped racing, only when he had the courage to pull away and immediately found himself giggling. “ w-what? was it bad? hey, don’t laugh, i’ll get embarrassed! ”.

romeo smiled fondly at her, lips still tingling, heart ringing in his ears. he leaned in just once more and pecked her cheek, and then grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “ it was everything i have always dreamed of ”, he told her softly.

seren hummed with a frown, “ so you have dreamed of kissing me? ”. he didn’t bring himself to respond, only smiling at her and tugging her along.

⌜ ☆ ⌟ ――― 𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿

libraries are meant for studying, but there are some who may not see it that way. there are some who see libraries as a place to reminisce, to think, to reflect. for alexander, the library had been his safe space since he started studying at valhalla. but it had ended up being the place he took to admire art. and not the painting or drawing kind.

he has been glancing over at the silent seren beside him for a while, finding himself increasingly distracted by her presence. she was quiet, minding her own business, reading through a magic tome for a project. occasionally she would glance up, meet his gaze and smile, before going back to her reading, and every time, he found himself growing frustrated. there has been a feeling bubbling up in his stomach for a while, and it was caused by a mere glance at seren. he didn’t know the origin of it, but he could comprehend it. he really wanted to kiss her.

most dream of kissing their loved one and not many have the luck of such a thing occurring. he’s been fighting those thoughts back but they rush back in like a current by a shore. a feeling that would crash in and rattle every nerve in his body and retreat the moment he lets reality sink in.

alexander found his timing to be flawed when the girl cleared her throat and closed the tome, and rose from her chair. “ i’m finished for the day. i think i’ll be in my room. are you going to be okay alone? ”, she questioned with a hushed tone, despite the library being empty.

no, he wanted to say. every time she left him to go to her class or to return to her room, he found himself lonelier than ever, and missing her the moment she leaves. when she’s gone, he sees her in his dreams and imagines that he might be able to hold her hand and tell her he likes her, or caress her hair or hug her or even kiss her. but the moment he woke up and saw her the following morning, the courage evaporated into thin air. that was why he found himself questioning whether now was a good time. she’s standing there, book to her chest, gazing at him curiously.

“ there is one thing you can do for me ”, he began. when seren hummed and stepped forward to listen, alexander acted upon the courage that shook him to his core. he bit his lip and reached up, grasping her gently behind her neck and bringing her face forward towards him. the girl squeaked and he then found himself staring at two round, stunned eyes. she hadn’t moved away yet, so he went for it.

his initiation of the kiss was tender, sweet, because he was unsure himself. but once his eyes flutered closed and the adrenaline began to race, he deepened it, cupping both sides of her face and moving her closer to him. the position was awkward, he’d rather have her on his lap, if he was being honest. yet he cut it short, pulling away a few moments later with slight pants and red cheeks. pecking her lips one final time, alexander saw seren’s face painted a vermilion that suited her completely.

“ w-well ”, she stated nervously, gulping. “ t-that was nice. ” grasping the back of his chair, alexander leaned in once more and pecked her lips again. and then again. until she whined and moved back. “ alex~~ i really got get going now. w-we can continue this another time. ” he smiled and nodded and waved her off, sighing slightly as she paced away. this is why he likes coming to the library.

⌜ ❁ ⌟ ――― 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘂𝘀

there are just some days that should not be ruined. and with every stroke of good luck in one day alone, percy would find himself feeling unstoppable. just earlier today, he had gotten an a+ in his magical art project. then they had served his favorite meal for lunch. not to mention that afternoon lessons were cancelled so he spent two hours in his dorm painting. needless to say, there was a skip in step, insinuating just how happy he was. if he were to come across one of his friends, he would just hug them because he was so happy. no reason needed, he’s just overjoyed!

and he would be damned if something were to ruin it. percy had just come out of his room and was on his face to the lounge where evangelos wanted to play table tennis. out of his uniform and sketchbook in hand, his steps were rushed, but they came to a stop when he reached the stairwell leading up to the lounge. it was empty except for one person coming down, and suddenly, his heart was taking off. his happiness didn’t disappear, but rather, it paused. and then began to overflow all over again.

seren had stopped halfway down the stairs, hand brushing against the railing and smiled softly when she locked eyes with the artist. “ percy! evan is waiting for you. i would join you guys but i’m not in the best mood right now ”, she spoke with an uneasy laugh towards the end, and he began to walk up to meet her halfway.

to see the mild sadness on her face dared to break his heart in two. he had such a good day, and maybe it was that happiness that erupted in his chest when he saw her that gave him a sudden feeling of courage. if she was upset, he was more than willing to cheer her up. he climbed up until there was just one step separating them, and he smiled lightly, noticing she was a tiny bit taller than him now.

“ can i ask you something? ”, he asked, heart trembling when she nodded. it felt so unlike him to suggest this, usually being the one waiting for the romantic gesture rather than initiating it himself. but with seren, he took impulses, maybe in the fear that he will miss his chances and then never have them again. percy’s lips trembled to get the word out, cheeks flaming. “ c-can i kiss you? ”.

the courage to ask was used, and he immediately found his gaze grounded to the floor, unable to look at the girl in the eye, unable to fathom the idea of her either rejecting or accepting his request. he assumed she was going to laugh it off as she does when romeo flirts with her, but seren did take one final step down, now face to face with the nervous boy. only a few inches seperated them, yet when seren nodded, there was no reason for him to stay away.

percy had never kissed someone, so it was no wonder he hesitated. but his hands moved and cupped her cheeks adoringly, appreciating the view in front of him and then pecking her lips at first, unsure, nervous, like he was poking his feet in cold water. but he caved in and pressed his lips softly against hers, nearly melting when she grasped his shirt and held it tightly into her hands. he was painfully scared, they both were, so careful that it ended up being softer than he was anticipating. but he was not complaining, he was kissing her!

percy pulled away first, and his face met the crook of her neck, rushing to hide it. seren giggled and rubbed his shoulder tenderly, “ hey, it’s rude not to look at a girl after a kiss. ” muttering a small ‘sorry’ against her skin, seren only smiled and ended up hugging the male tightly. this had to be one of the best days in his life.

“ c-can i kiss you again? ”.

⌜ ♕ ⌟ ――― 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻

what kailen has found in the months of liking the same girl, is that she’s very clumsy. the nurse’s room had become a second home to her, especially after dueling lessons. and when the nurse was not present, most likely refueling her cup of coffee, he would be the one looking for the first aid kit and treating whatever ‘boo-boo’ seren had. and it was clear that she felt guilty, through her pouts and mumbled ‘sorry’s, yet he never held it against her.

if anything, he loved taking care of her. because it would often be tender moments that they shared alone, and those happen rarely. it’s idiotic to wish harm upon someone, but kailen wasn’t doing that; he just didn’t mind it when she came running to him because of a bad paper cut or a sprained ankle. as of now, he was delicately cleaning the palms of her hands after she fell and badly scraped her hands.

“ i would tell you to be more careful but you won’t exactly listen ”, he stated with a minor chuckle. seren pouted but made no attempt at responding with something witty as she tended to do. being in a room alone with her did make him nervous, though. kailen hardly acted upon his thoughts and impulses in fear it would upset someone, but he ached to hug seren, or caress her hair.

the contact was limited to him only nursing her, though. yet he refused to be upset by that, cleaning her slightly bloodied palms and then proceeding to apply the plasters and bandages. once he finished, kailen let out a happy sigh and smiled at the girl sat on the nursing bed. “ is there anything you want me to do? do you need pills? ”, he questioned. and hummed when she reached her hands towards him.

“ can you kiss it better? ”, asked seren, almost in a child’s voice. and who was he to refuse to a demand when she said it so cutely?! chuckling, kailen bit back his nerves and took her hand gently into his, pressing a delicate peck to her bandaged palms, looking up at her to see if she was content. she looked rather happy. but after kissing her palms, kailen’s feelings began to haunt him once more.

she had asked him to kiss it better, and though she smiled, the pout remained. he wasn’t going to be able to stand that. he would usually run from this but now, he was so close. kailen moved in, setting his hand beside where she sat and drew their distance to a close. still holding her injured hand, he started off with a kiss against her cheek. when she turned her face to glance at him, he leaned and pecked her lips. to his surprise, she still didn’t pull away. so he kissed her properly, as best as he could. as gently as he could. as passively as he could.

it was the first time he had ever gotten this close to seren, and it was the first time he realised the whiff of her perfume and the warmth of her skin. he tightened his grip on her hand and broke the kiss in fear of pushing too far, cheeks burning, heart throbbing.

seren gulped, staring at him with wide eyes. he feared he’d totally scared her off and opened his mouth to apologise, but stopped. “ well ”, seren began and suddenly chuckled. “ i suddenly feel ten times better. ”

“ g-good! ”.

“ do it again. ”

“ huh?! ”.

⌜ ❆ ⌟ ――― 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘀

evangelos gave good hugs, that was just a very known fact. despite being the most intimidating person on the face of the earth, his arms gave perhaps the warmest and most comforting embraces that you’d ever want. it was possibly why when his crush was upset, she would find herself in his arms within no time. the moment he saw that frown, he would know. and would open those arms wide for her.

he did it to cleo, he did it to percy. but his heart just trembled the most when it came to seren. you might understand why when you are hugged by the girl. whenever he looks down at her when her arms are wrapped around his slim waist, he just feels like dying. she was so cute, so warm, so cuddly, like a teddy bear he never had growing up.

today was like most days, but what he found particularly different was the lack of communication coming from the girl beside him. they’d been eating for a while, he would tune into the conversations between the others yet his gaze would quietly shift to seren. this happened many times until he realised that something was definitely wrong. especially with how close she was sitting to him.

that was armsend code for ‘i want hugs.’

it was why he ultimately led her outside. the courtyards were empty this time around, they appeared to be in luck and the moment he turned to seren, he opened his arms wide for her and watched her push through like a magnet, capturing his waist into a tight embrace which he returned. having him in his arms practically recharged his battery, even if it was short. “ what’s up this time, searing? ”, he questioned, receving a hum in response. “ what was that? ”.

“ not a good day ”, the girl echoed, closing her eyes and resting her head over his chest. would it be too bad if she heard his heart beating? it was going too fast for his own liking and he would most likely give himself away if he didn’t calm down. she glanced up suddenly and he felt like his world had been rocked upside down. “ i just needed a hug. ”

evangelos remained perfectly still, staring into tearful blue eyes and finding himself nervous, but he was really good at not showing it. the moment he leaned down and kissed her, though, he prayed that his cheeks wouldn’t give it away, that his heart was basically aching. it wasn’t fear that kept him from kissing her, rather, it was a form of hesitation that worried him. what if she didn’t like it, what if she doesn’t like me? thoughts that echoed on a daily.

he felt like dying, though, when she stood on her tip toes and wrapped her frail arms around his neck, sinking into a kiss he had contemplated for ages. he didn’t want to break it, deepening it slowly, his lips picking up a desperate pace. with the strength he had, arms locked around her waist, he did the most romantic thing he could think of and lifted her off her feet just ever so slightly, nervous at her giggles.

evangelos was a passionate person, but he wasn’t given enough time to show that. he pulled away when he put the girl back down, caressing her cheek lovingly. “ i just asked for a hug ”, she said breathlessly.

“ what, you didn’t like it? fine, i won’t give you anymore ”, he grumbled and bit back a gasp when she pulled him back in again for a second kiss, and this time, he melted.

evangelos gave good hugs, but he also gave the best kisses.

#prompts !#questions !

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