#And I have been reflecting Jaime’s post about who else was in the box and what the event was and who was invited

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

..

[peachy-panic]

Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.

[sarcasticfina]

My 2019 Tumblr Top 10

1). 639 notes - 20 May 2019

look, i knew jaime was dead. i still choked up a little at actually seeing him. but i straight up strangle-sobbed when brienne added all of his good deeds to the book. because despite how utterly stupid their ending was with each other, she still saw him for who he really was (and who the writers mercilessly butchered), and she made sure history would reflect that. the only nod to all of the character build-up and redemption he earned is written there on those pages and it came from the only woman to love him for him, who he was at his core, whether he saw it or not. did she deserve better? a thousand fucking percent. and so did he.

2). 119 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: steve/darcy - "Am I your lockscreen?" "You weren't supposed to see that."

“There something wrong with your phone?” Steve wondered, watching Bucky fiddle around with his phone, tapping at the screen, brow furrowed.

“Huh?” Bucky glanced at him. “No. Just fixing something.”

Steve snorted. “Wasn’t aware there was something wrong with my phone. Care to share?”

“You remember last week, you dug a sketch pad out for the first time in months…”

3). 93 notes - 19 July 2019

Hiatus

Long story short, I broke my ankle and am in a rehab hospital with no wifi. I have limited data and am not sure when I will be back to regular posting/writing. At this point, I’m four weeks out of getting my cast removed but am unsure how much longer rehab will take before I go home, so you might not see me online for a while but I am okay! :)

4). 92 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: oh you're jealous! - bamon

Bonnie was on her second glass of totally overpriced champagne and it was doing nothing for her. She was the one that talked him into being her plus-one to this gala, which had taken no small amount of pitching, but now she was regretting it. Why? Because the whole point of having him come along was that she would have someone to mutually complain to about the other guests. Only here she was, standing by the buffet, picking at mini quiches and finger sandwiches, while he was over there, being the life of the party. Why was she even surprised? Damon thrived in the spotlight. And given the many middle-aged women currently fawning over him, he was in his element.

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie turned her back on the scene, and picked at a fruit plate.

5). 87 notes - 26 September 2019

medical expenses

so, facing down over $1000 to pay down my medical plan, i’m getting a little stressed. i’m on ei right now, which isn’t quite covering my monthly costs, and i’m about to be returning home from the rehab hospital to do outpatient physiotherapy for a few weeks, which means i’m going to be adding grocery costs to everything else.

anything you can share will help and i’ll be happy to fill fic prompts for my usual ships to anyone who does donate to my ko-fi! just drop them in my ask box and let me know you donated and i will get right on it!

https://ko-fi.com/A666AWP

6). 68 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: Ooh Starcy, “can you shut up for once in your life?” Thank youu!

“…better for you… keep you safe… don’t want you to be hurt… enemies… don’t know how long… the last thing I would want… don’t think I could forgive myself if… but I have to do what I think is right…”

This conversation had been going on for a while. Too long, really. And the longer it went, the more she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was hurt. Confused. But more than anything, she was angry. Which is what she would blame for the next words that came out of her mouth:

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” Her fisted hands sat clenched on her knees as she raised blurry eyes up to see Steve’s surprised face. “You’ve been talking at me for what feels like hours. I don’t need a Captain America speech on all the ways I’m a weakness and how it would be a favor for you to dump me before you run off on some world-saving superhero business.”

7). 61 notes - 09 April 2019

missmeggo929 said: I don’t know if you’ll write it (if not that’s okay), but a little Seth/Kate “Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

He laughed.  

And Kate could’ve killed him for it. Immediately, all the excited butterflies that had filled up her stomach and the floaty feeling in her chest evaporated. She pushed up onto her feet, scowled at him, and stomped her way to the door of the hotel room.  

8). 52 notes - 03 June 2019

routine kisses - 1/1

It starts innocently enough. Brienne tells him to do something, in that no-nonsense voice of hers, a demand that he help Podrick with something or other. With Brienne, there is rarely a request, more often an order. Jaime finds he doesn’t hate it. He’s indulgent, if anything.

So, he says, rather snarkily, “As my lady commands.” Passing her by, he pops a daring kiss on her cheek, laughing lightly as he keeps walking, far out of reach of her irritable swipe at him. He knows her face is red, that her skin turns cherry against her will, and that warms him even more.

It becomes a game of sorts. When she sends him off with some new task, he finds a way to kiss her cheek before he goes. Sometimes he pretends he won’t or he’s forgotten, but that’s only so she’ll drop her guard long enough that he can sneak in.

9). 51 notes - 12 May 2019

lazy morning kisses - jaime/brienne - 1/1

Should she ask, his excuse is quite simple. He knows her well enough that when she wakes, she’ll startle, make excuses, return to her respectful use of ‘Ser Jaime,’ which is far from how he likes to hear his name spilt from her mouth, not after hearing her heartfelt cries last night. He’s not sure he ever wants to hear her say his name any other way. Rather than wait for her inevitable regret, followed by embarrassment and excuse-making, he chooses to forgo any initial questions about his intentions or desires.

There is no strain, no furrowed brow or frowning lips, when she sleeps. There is only peace. Her face is soft, pale skin and pinkened cheeks and ripe lips. Not pretty, not truly, but beauty is a strange thing. She is magnificent. She always has been. A sight to behold. All too often mocked or overlooked or underestimated. Even he made that folly in the beginning.

10). 45 notes - 08 June 2019

top of head kisses - jaime/brienne - 1/1

At five-and-ten, Duncan was their oldest. He loved books and sword-fighting in equal measure. He was warm and friendly and had his mother’s blue eyes and his father’s handsome face. He was tall, imposingly so, especially for his age. Lanky with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he looked a far sight more intimidating than he was. For he was still just a boy. On the cusp of manhood, yes, but a boy all the same. He was Jaime’s little boy. The same that he had cradled and sung to and danced around the echoing stone halls of their home when he would not stop crying for anything. The same who proudly proclaimed he was a lion and would roar at people in greeting for the first five years of his life. The same who gripped his father’s stubbed wrist without complaint or revulsion and who agreed that a hook would be more practical than any fancy hand could be. Jaime’s little lion with his still round cheeks, kissed with freckles. 

Created by TumblrTop10

[sinceileftyoublog]

Boulevards Interview: Funky Gut Punches

Photo by Jordan Rickard

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“I wish I could Men In Black erase my shit so I could listen to it with fresh ears,” Jamil Rashad tells me over the phone from Raleigh, North Carolina. The garage funk artist who records as Boulevards is about to release Brother!, a four-track EP (with an accompanying 2-track single) via Normaltown Records, an imprint of New West. But the restless singer-songwriter’s coming back from recording even newer music, for a potential LP, and has to get in the mindset that in a couple weeks, he’s dropping something he recorded a while back, especially because it’s his most assured (recorded) music to date, all the while exploring new aesthetic and thematic territory.

Rashad finished writing the songs on Brother! early on during the pandemic and messaged various artists he admired to see whether they’d produce the record. Blake Rhein, of Durand Jones & The Indications, bit. Rashad had long admired them. “Durand Jones & The Indications was one of the first soul revival groups in the game,” he said. “They kind of paved the way for Black Pumas and the other cats on Colemine [Records].” It turned out to be the perfect fit for what Rashad was trying to do. “I wanted to do some soul shit but still stay focused to the garage-funk element of Boulevards,” he said, something immediately apparent from the warbling psychedelia of the guitars and strut of the drums from the opening and title track. “I’ve always been chasing my predecessors,” he continued, referring to not only the contemporaries that paved the way for him but classics he grew up listening to with his father, a radio DJ: George Clinton & Parliament-Funkadelic, Curtis Mayfield, and Rick James. Rashad’s always been an avid indie rock and punk listener too, citing The Strokes’ Is This It and early Black Keys albums as just as formative.

You can hear Boulevards’ journey to this genre-averse point from listening to his discography. He released his debut LP on Brooklyn post-punk label Captured Tracks, bouncing around different labels and different styles (earlier this year, he released a collaborative track with “Bulletproof” synth popper La Roux) before finding a home on Normaltown. “I had to make those records in the past to make it to this point,” he said, citing New West’s increasing levels of genre diversity, from Caroline Rose’s pop-rock jamfest LONER to their recent Pylon box set, as a reason why he kept asking them to release his EP. When they said yes, he felt like they got it. “If you’re friends with [Normaltown co-founder] George [Fontaine, Jr.] on Facebook or Instagram, you’ll see how eclectic his tastes are. If anybody could get what I was trying to do, George gets it. It’s not like the Thundercats, the Leon Bridges, the Gary Clark Jr.s of the world,” he said. “This is Carolina soul shit.” As a bonus, Rashad was already friends with a couple New West signees: singer-songwriter Jaime Wyatt and American Aquarium’s BJ Barham, the latter of whom helped Rashad get sober from alcohol.

It’s certainly not lost on Rashad that, in his music community, he’s a Black singer-songwriter surrounded by many white ones, many of whom are his friends but don’t have to face the differences inherent in being Black in America. Some of these differences, he sings about, like on “Shook”, a song about being afraid of the police in Raleigh. But it’s the disparities in the music world that he hopes to directly reduce with Brother! “You have indie rock and the soul revival stuff and the psychedelic stuff, but you don’t have the straight garage funk records unless you see an old record on a Spotify playlist,” he laments, citing the dearth of existence and/or influence of old school, “Black small rare funk bands” as a reason for wanting to bring funk to the forefront. In a post-George Floyd protest world of white American racial reckoning, influencing everything from opinions on law enforcement to music listening habits, Rashad wants to tell his story, share his thoughts on the world, and dance while doing it.

Read the rest of my interview with Rashad below, and check out his live stream from the Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro via NPR tomorrow night at 7 PM CST.

Since I Left You: It’s hard to point to a short EP as a turning point for many artists like this is for you. Why did you want to do just these four songs as opposed to a bigger project?

Jamil Rashad: I mean, I wanted to do a bigger project. That’s why we’re writing an LP right now. But for me, the writing never stops. I’m always writing. At first, I wasn’t even gonna do an EP here. I was gonna do singles and see how my fan base reacted. I wasn’t even gonna have a label. Every record, I always feel like it’s gonna be a turning point. You never know. I was thinking about this the other day. It’s almost like I’m starting fresh. These are songs I’ve been wanting to write--it’s just taken me time as an artist to get to this point to be able to zone in on the sound that I wanted. A 4-song EP is a little bit of the past and what’s to come with Boulevards, which I’m really stoked about.

SILY: You can tell that immediately from the title track, the first track on the EP. It’s got that psychedelic, garage element to the guitars, but it’s also really funky.

JR: I was tested a lot on this record, learning how the voice interacts with the microphone. Blake was pushing me to do it, which no producer has never done before. It’s turned out really dope. The goal was always to be the face of garage funk. Back in the day, my parents and your parents had the George Clinton records, Isaac Hayes, [Curtis Mayfield], they had all these different artists that were bringing the wave of funk. James Brown. You don’t really have that now. You have soul acts, R&B acts, indie rock acts, country acts, Americana acts, but you don’t have anyone that [brings] the funk shit. That’s what Boulevards is all about.

SILY: More than ever for you, these songs are political. Did you want the EP to be both a thematic and aesthetic turning point, or was that just a coincidence?

JR: It was both. Being 36 at this age, and looking at what’s going on in America, there are things you can’t ignore. I’m not a political expert, but maybe I should post what I’m feeling, what I’m seeing from white friends and Black friends and what’s going on with my community, and put it into these songs. I don’t think if a lot of this stuff didn’t happen with George Floyd, the pandemic, small businesses struggling, and people struggling, I would have been able to write these songs. I’m still gonna stay true to love and heartbreak, and self-growth, and trying to overcome obstacles and things of that nature. Those things I’m always gonna write about. But what was going on in the world definitely inspired and influenced those lines and crafting those songs. I’m not one to preach--you have a lot of these artists who have political records and preach. I wanted to make something about what I’ve experienced that people can still vibe and groove too.

SILY: Only “Shook” seems to be outwardly political. The rest of the songs are about Black life, but they’re really about your Black life.

JR: Of course. Me being a Black man and my struggles and things I’ve been through and seen other people go through. “Shook” is a song about being afraid of police. Being a Black man, every time I leave my house, I have to calculate every move that I make. It’s not like that for a lot of my white friends. That’s fine--that’s what America is. Well, actually, it’s not fine, it’s where America’s at. If I see Raleigh PD and am walking in a predominantly white neighborhood, are they gonna stop me? I live in this neighborhood I worked my ass off to be in. Are they gonna stop me because I don’t look the part and look like I’m up to something? So that’s what inspired “Shook”. Elijah McClain, just doing his thing, cops killing the brother. I didn’t want to do it in an overly preachy way, but at the same time, as America, we have to have uncomfortable conversations with each other. White on white America needs to show awareness with each other for things to actually change. 

“Brother!” is mostly about working. Working your ass off for somebody and nothing changes. [laughs] You’re putting in the hours and the time, you’re making money for somebody else who doesn’t give a shit about you. You’re trying to get the promotions, you’re putting on a face. I worked at Best Buy, you can imagine being a touring artist and then having to put on a blue shirt and dealing with customers over some TV or kitchen appliance shit. I’m obviously doing my job, but I’m not gonna get a promotion there or get an advancement there. It’s about being a Black man in the work force and making somebody else money. At the time, I wasn’t sober, too, so the bar was my only release. It was the only way I could cope with that. [At the same time,] being in the Black community and being in Raleigh, and seeing my father interact with other Black men and even white men, saying, “Brother so and so” [inspired the song.] That’s how we greet each other sometimes. It’s also talking to myself talking to a man out there.

SILY: Whether these songs are about your personal experiences growing up or problems you’re facing now, as serious as they are, you can dance to them.

JR: Curtis Mayfield was good for that. Funkadelic, even Marvin Gaye. That’s what I wanted to be able to accomplish. Funk hits people in the gut. You can still politically come from a serious perspective. 

SILY: Tell me about the video for “Luv n Pain”.

JR: It’s a simple, fun video. [Director] Patrick [Lincoln] pitched the idea. He wanted to have a day of Boulevards alone in his home, reflecting on being alone, reflecting on the things that have caused me personal heartbreak, without a partner. Getting ready in the morning, drinking coffee, wanting to share it with somebody but not having anybody to share it with.

Every video I’ve done up till this point, I’m always dancing. He wanted to slow things down, but still have it be Boulevards, stay true to me, have me dance in certain scenes but also have me reflecting, looking at the fire, up at the ceiling, things we do in our own homes. We [also] wanted to make something visually appealing and fun with bright colors. We didn’t really try to overthink it. Something simple that reflected Boulevards. When I’m at home, I’m always dancing.

SILY: You reference Gil Scott-Heron on “Shook” (“The revolution is now being televised.”) When was the first time you were aware of him?

JR: When I was a kid. My dad used to pick me and my sister up from track practice, and he worked at the radio station and was always getting these records. Gil Scott-Heron, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”, “Whitey on the Moon”, all these songs. He’s a poet. I started out as a poet before I became a rapper, MC, or funk artist. Every time I do spoken word on a record, it’s never written. The verses and hooks are, but here, I said to the engineer, play these couple bars and just let me talk. It just came out. It also came from watching peoples’ stories and thinking, “The revolution is being televised now.” We’re seeing the anger, the pain, people expressing their frustration with the system of racial inequality in America. Not just Black people, but white people and Latino too. [Before,] they didn’t want people to see what was going on in America. Now, people are seeing it and are looking and are more aware of it now.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

JR: Sly Stone and Funkadelic, predecessors I grew up loving. That was influenced by a Sly Stone record. 60′s/70′s swag. I worked with a photographer in Raleigh named Jordan [Rickard]. I wanted to do something simple. I did it in my crib at my front porch. When I’m working on a record, I always have these vision boards. I always think about the colors, being a Black man, what’s gonna look good. I reached out to a stylist in L.A. who’s a good friend. I’ve always wanted to do a burnt orange background, and the sky blue represents Carolina blue because I’m a big Tar Heels fan. That color coordination blue and orange looks good together. 

SILY: Why are you also putting out a two-track single in addition to the 4-track EP?

JR: That was more the label, how we wanted to go about the campaign. Initially, “Luv n Pain” was the first single I wanted to release regardless. “Shook” would be too predictable. There were so many artists releasing protest songs. “Luv n Pain” is more the past and present of Boulevards. When we finished it in the studio, [I knew.]

[dracaesanguinem]

And why should I be calling you dragon eggs, again? I’ll explain: you were all bestowed on me as a VERY VALUABLE gift, something I cherish and love and hold dear in my heart. You’re more precious than rubies, just one could buy ‘a ship to take (me) back to the Free Cities’ and all three would leave (me) a healthy woman for the rest of (my) life; and still I would never give any of you away for the biggest price in the world. You’ve been here with me and Dany on this amazing journey and I cannot believe we’re growing so much with you all at our side.

This is a thank you post. Not because I reached a certain number of followers (which I can barely believe I did no matter how big or small the number of digits), but because I owe you some love in return for the one you’ve given us both.

I am grateful to each and every one of you for various and diverse reasons and love you all equally. But some of you have stood out with open arms, ready to have me and Dany enter into your lives. And to those, I want to give a little bit of individual attention (this is in no particular order):

Fil ( @killthebxy ): You Fil (ALL THE PUNS) my heart with happiness every time we talk or I see you on my dash. It was by pure causality that I came to form a bit of a bond with you, (PORTUGAL CAR*LHO) and embark on a lovely journey. I want to interract more with IC as we do OOC because I absolutely adore your vision of Jon and your understand of him. Also, you were one of the most supporting people here for me and I’ll never forget that. Vou guardar um espacinho no meu coração e no da Dany para ti e para o Jon. E nunca te esqueças, “mata o menino, João das Neves”.

Tati ( @rhaegxr​ + @vaedar​ ): You’re the biggest sweetheart I have met on this platform. There is not one single person that can disagree that you and Rhaegar (or any of your muses to be honest) are simply brilliant. On our little d/iscord verse, I’ve come to learn so much about my muse and how I, personally, want to portray her. And Rhaegar is simply the love of Dany’s life and their bond makes me want to cry each time because of how perfect it is. Thank you so much for putting up with me and writing with me and just being one of the genuinely sweetest, most supporting and loving partner-in-writing I know. Here’s to many more threads and tears to come!

Scarlett ( @cerseilionesslannister ): We’ve not written here, but nonetheless I feel like you deserve a bit of a spot in this post. Although our relationship did not start on solid ground, you’ve been incredibly supportive of me and that has, somewhat, helped me continue this journey with my muse. Also, I cannot go by without saying that your love for Cersei has inspired me to love my smol dragon queen as well. There’s not a lot of people that put the amount of work and dedication into their muse as you do with Cersei and I think we can all see the result of that in your beautiful portrayal. Thank you so much for being here each time I need to talk to you ♥ I’m really glad we met.

Sophie ( @rcseheir ): Thank you so much for allowing me to play in your little group verse. I cannot tell you how much it has helped me to come out of my shell with my muse and my writing ever since I sent that one message. I owe that to you: the people I’ve met, the lovely possibilities of what’s to come out of that story and pushing me to step out to the big unknown and just talk and meet people. It was a hard thing to do before the moment I got into this group, but thanks to you and your brilliant imagination, I was able to take that leap. Also, your Willas is simply… Amazing. Your portrayal and development of his story have breathed LIFE into him. He is YOURS, truly and completely. Your work and your passion reflecting on this amazing character. You earned all the love and praise you could ever possibly get! And, most of all, it inspires me, personally, a LOT.

Hash ( @mybigfatcock + @boaredtodeath​ ): I think that almost 90% of the people who have seen you on their dash before actually talking to you thought you were a p*orn blog ♥ and you have to admit it’s quite funny. In my case, I 100% thought I was too small and too green of a writer to write with you. Your love and passion for Euron is captivating, inspiring and so genuine. You just really LOVE your character and don’t sugarcoat him to appease to anyone’s tastings. And you’ve taught me to feel the same about Dany. You were the first person here to teach me to play Dany’s ‘darkest side’ and enjoy it for what it is. I can map out eons of theories and plot tons of crazy stories where things don’t quite go down the ‘hero’s journey’ theme and it makes SENSE and it WORKS because, ultimately, you have supported me to think outside of the box in that way — and I learn from the way YOU do it. I have not regretted, for one single moment, having met and developed a friendship with you. We are great partners in crime and I love to jokingly call Euron Dany’s “pirate hubby”. They(we)’ll conquer the world with ships and dragons and krakens and a lot of mutual understanding and support for crazy dark sides. ♥ I really like you

Ruth ( @shaenc ): (hey)  I JUST MET YOU (andthisiscrazy) and you’re already one of my favourite people here. You’re the big sister to my small Dany and I just adore Shaena so much already. Also part of the PORTUGAL CAR*LHO and “let’s taunt @killthebxy ‘s Jon” squad. I can’t wait to develop a friendship and write with you on our little Targaryen verse. It’s also so great I get to teach you more about the ASOIAF world while you teach me about Tolkien’s! Such a win/win.

But also, to all of you that I see on my dash every single that and have brought me smiles and reasons to want to come back over and over again (again, in no specific order):

♥ @saltveined : for writing such a heart gripping Theon && @theeldestsun : for your love of Doran and all of Dorne and being #1 in their defense squad && @wolfqueennamedstark : for making me love a character more than their canon version && @kisscdbyfire : for being such a sweetheart and writing the best wildling babes && @crowncdcrow : for being such an amazing writer and portraying such a perfect Jon && @hecantbekilled : for your awesome Robb and for bonding over coffee and berries && @taintedblccd : for putting huge smiles on my face and having such a great BIG heart && @theusurper + @griffinshand : for being best frenemies since the first minute we became mutuals and making me laugh in public and throwing JonCon at me (lords know I need him in Dany’s life) && @jbearmormont : for being the bear to my Dany and the Jorah I always want to run to, for having the most amazing understanding of one of my fav characters ever && @foreignaccent​ : because your love for Shae transpires and shines so beautifully! I love that you are so understanding and supportive and protective of such an amazing character. It’s inspiring and beautiful. && @akingslayerx​ : because your Jaime is amazing and you make him the justice he deserves! And there’s nothing wrong in loving the way you write him as well ♥ more power to you, honey! You DO write him beautifully. @ofblackfyre​: for creating such a sweet and genuinely great OC that I absolutely love. Lyanna is precious and Dany will forever protect her && @queenofkategat : for writing such a beautiful Lagertha and I can’t wait for us to play once you have your GOT verse settled && @keepfcith : for being the most amazing little and fierce bear and breathing life into Lyanna && @halvbjorn : for having one of the most amazing penned OCs in the fandom and being always so passionate about her && @oftarth : literally the first person I followed her and still one of my fav people && @rhacgal : for being the living fire and child to my Dany, the beautiful dragon Rhaegal && @earth-whisperer : for having Carlotta be such of the sweetest and most heartwarming characters I’ve played with as well as a mother-figure for Dany and just being such a sweetheart OOC && @ofgoldenwit : for your flawless and HUMAN portrayal of Tyrion, for breathing such an unique light into him && @neitherknightnorlady : for her wonderful Brienne and, possibly, the future captain of her queen’s guard && @motherofwolvcs​ : for being #1 in the Cat defense squad and writing so beautifully, inspiring us all, and being such a mother figure to all these babies && @thcbull​ : because even if I just met you, I’m always happy to see some love for Gendry and I hope we’ll be able to write some in the future. && EVERYONE ELSE I MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN, BUT LOVE ALL THE SAME!!

If you’re new here, as well, please never be afraid to contact me. I’m more than happy to meet new people, even if I haven’t followed you back, and possibly add you one day to my ‘dragon’s eggs’ baby list. ♥

[whenisitnottimeforbed]

Sweet Treats

*So, I've been away for quite some time(namely since one of the largest amounts of dissapointment in television I've felt since I lived through the Steve-Joe crisis on Blue's Clues), but have decided to write again because my muse struck me and I've got like 3 places I should be productively using it and instead of choosing one and forsaking the others, I've decided to ignore all three and use my precious creative currency on fanfiction.

(Also, because apparently people have started following me after said event, and it's not like I do anything else of value on here, so you know, don't bite the hand that feeds you...)

----

Never before had the lieutenant wanted a way to seek legal retribution on a weather person, but after today, she was seriously contemplating spending time googling what she could fit into the criteria of 'fraud' as a means of, at the very least, an entire 24 hours of grating inconvenience. In exchange for her own of course. She has been promised a week of sunshine, highs in the 90s and lows in the 80s, and perfect swells. A whole week, promised with 75%. If you aren't sure say 50%. Why did they even have a 50% as a thing? It literally meant they had no idea whatsoever; whatever it was was just as likely to happen as not as far as they could tell. You say there's a 50% chance of rain and who the h*ll knows what would happen and they're still allowed to call themselves 'right'. Ugh, Jaime Gordon, weather extraordinaire, was in for it if 'it' was at all, at any point, possible.

Abbie's head swung toward the door as the bamboo feature slammed open and the dim midday light flushed in against the golden florescent along with a onslaught of fat, juicy raindrops. That was, until the lights flickered and cut out. Not the first time today. Neither took too much notice as the light turned what could only be described as lukewarm.

"I've managed to retrieve a plate of buffalo wings," The gangling man pronounced the words with the same amount of semi-disdainful reluctance he mustered for all anachronisms he found ridiculous, "Though I fear the storm managed to claim our...tapas? As well as one of our drinks- as of yet I know not whose. The fried spam on rice, however, has made it unscathed within its styrofoam confines."

Looking at the man, unfitted to the tourist shirt, so bright and covered in stylized lei flower print as well as a new pair of Bermuda shorts he held up with an also fresh belt, the end hanging out like it was 1985, Abigail couldn't help a smile. The thin shirt fabric clung to the contours of his torso and teased transparency in its moistened state. He had looked so annoyed when she told him he couldn't wear his normal clothes to the beach- even though she had told him before they left to borrow somethings for the trip. On the other hand, the goofy smile he'd managed once he'd dressed himself and finally allowed her to snap a few pictures to keep for until the end of feasible time was well worth it. Now though, he dripped heavily on the wood floor and over to the lush carpet placed at the sides of the beds they'd acquired.

"Oh, Babe- I'm sorry you had to go out in that-" Abbie began, getting up from the plush bed to get to the en suite and grab one of the soft towels.

"-Or let you brave the winds otherwise? Dash the thought." Ichabod called to her as she went and he picked the shirt of his chest, flapping loose droplets from it, 

"Storm like this might well have carried you away." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"You joke, but watch something like that actually happen one day. There are reasons I've never been to Chicago." Her own smile matched his own by the time she re-emerged and came to him with the linen spread between her arms. Without thinking much about it, but feeling the posture as soon as she'd made it, she stood up on painted toes and reached around his head. It was awkward to her and still somewhat unfamiliar, but just as she'd become recently accustomed to he stooped over toward her, his scruffy, warm, comforting, delicious face nearing hers, while she massaged the rain from his long hair, down the edges of his jaw; his neck. His chest. Her thumb caught on one of his buttons. It was amazing how easily it popped right open.

"Perhaps we'd do best to eat first..." His breath, the dropped pitch of his voice on the cusp of a whisper, and his sheer closeness quite nearly made her eyes roll back and sent a shiver down her spine. Her head closed the space between it and his softly, feeling the not-so-soft strands of his beard against her cheek bone and temple. She breathed his scent, exaggerated by the rain, and turned her head to press her lips to his cheek quickly before she lost her resolve to indeed eat the food he'd fought his way back here for at her off-hand remark about the possible lack of room service in the wake of the storm.

It had taken some time after finding out that- surprise, surprise- Danny was not only a no good, selfish, flaky superior but a pretty lack-f*cking-luster prospect for a progressing future lovelife for Abbie to recover. First Andy- sweet but too easily misguided, and then Danny. She tried to choose carefully but she had begun to doubt either herself or her prospects, maybe even a combination thereof. And on top of all the other crap that had been just falling from the sky, raining down like the seventh plague in work, from work, outside of work, it was just a period of turmoil.

Lo and behold though, she emerged on the other side with a clearer vision of what she needed, what she wanted, and what was waiting for her if she decided to reach out for it. She had reached almost 2 weeks ago, and now was on this vacation to reach a little farther. Well, that and to get away from the absolute f*ckery of the current FBI.

At some point in her life she had resolved herself to not brooding or nitpicking at finding the perfect 'moment', and so she did not wonder now, by sheer force of will, if she should have forgot the carry out boxes. Grabbing the two of them as well as the cup and plate while he took of his wet shirt, and draped the towel over his shoulders, she looked around.

"Where'd you put the forks?" The look on his face communicated his lapse in thought,

"Usually they put that in the container- that's what they do at the MacDonald's even. I didn't think it any different than usual." He began to stand.

"No- no, don't worry about it." She quickly stopped him, "You're not catching pneumonia on account of plastic ware. We can eat with our hands." Sitting down on the bed next to him, a knee up to face him, she passed him one container and opened her own. Inside was an almost overflowing pack of rice topped with delightfully edge-crisped spam pieces, a little thing that Abbie could only equate visually to a triangular hush puppy, and a little cubby stuffed full of pineapple chunks swimming in a clear glaze.

Around the conversational exchange about plans when the storm let up and comments of posted quips from friends on photos from the first day before they'd decided to use their phones as little as possible, were chuckles and giggles around falling food and messy hands. The food tasted superb- Ichabod gave it his own, tenuous, stamp of approval, citing if this is what they had to work with they had worked it well when speaking of the canned meat. The fruit went decidedly last, and after the salty meal, the sweet flavor popped even more.

"Abbie, these bananas-"

"The plantains?"

"Yes- Heaven alone knows why your temporal kin have made it their crusade to see what, if anything, can't be fried- but I must say this is delicious. On occasion of course, not for the day to day, but a strikingly delicious treat nonetheless. Have some." He offered happily, his fingers pinching two slices of the browned banana meat, lifted before her lips. Giving them a poking lick, she leaned in and pulled them into her mouth with a soft bite. He was right, they were good, but that wasn't why she gulped them down so quickly. She looked down at her container and licked her lips once again, pulling the plump flesh in to be as inconspicuous as possible while she reached in and pulled out a pineapple wedge, waiting for one of viscous drops to fall before lifting it to her lips and taking a bite out of it, nodding to it's own clear, citrus-y flavor doused in a thin, sweet syrup. She offered the rest it to him.

He glanced into her eyes for a moment that hovered in air for about as long as her missing heartbeat, but accepted the offering, his mustache tickling her outermost knuckle while his lips closed around her fingertips softly, briefly. Without thinking about it, and at the same time thinking of nothing else, she pulled her syrupy fingers back to her own lips and easily sucked them clean. 

Who knew pineapples could be an aphrodisiac?

"You've missed a bit." he noted quietly, reaching out his hand, large and well used, to cup her whole cheek, brushing his thumb against the corner of her lips. Eyes glittering in each others' reflection, Ichabod's dropped to the thumb still softly stroking. His chest and shoulders heaved with a hungry breath as he looked to her lips and she felt hers fall slightly apart under his gaze. His face leaned closer and who knows where it was exactly when she closed her eyes and pressed forward to meet him.

His mouth engulfed her bottom lip, an ample supply of flesh for him to focus on. His facial hair tickled her the way she liked, and she lifted her hand to its place against his own cheek to keep him pressed to her, inhaling deeply through her nostrils as their mouths parted wide, readjusting and searching motivatedly for new corners of each other. She leaned into him more, lifting her bottom from the bed, chest now glued to his and feeling, somewhere in the peripheral of the sense, the styrofoam tipping onto her.

In movements slow and deliberate, and somehow at the same time quick and wasteless, Ichabod scooped the woman up into his arms off the bed and without breaking contact with her lips, moved her to the second bed merely a step away. He laid her down against it gently, leaned upon her body, her legs dangling over the edge on either side of him, the large t-shirt she had worn to cover her bikini when their plans had still included a day outside riding up to where it covered little to nothing at all. While she pulled the towel away from his shoulders, he pushed the hem of the garment up over her head and scooted her body under his deeper into the comforter and soft mattress, and in the fraction of a moment they had to part to get the thing off, he saw the smile on her face, and felt, as she did, at one with space, time, and partner.