#and this gal is about the same height as me cause I’d only reach his shoulders too likeee 😭

[messrmoonyy]

Sometimes I forget how tall he is. Bros a giant

[obeymematches]

AAA, hi I'm that first anon ( /w\)

I'm glad you're doing well ❤️ Thank you so much for the content you're making. I've been kinda losing interest in Obey Me but I'd like to request a match-up, maybe it'll help me rekindle my love for the game.

So, hmm. I'm 18 and a bit of a short gal, 4' 11 since I last checked (aaaa, Asian genes. But hey, cute size difference).

I'm an INFP-T, so I kinda suck at socialising hahah. But I make up for it by showing a cheery exterior. It always feels good to leave a good impression.

I usually like to try keeping a soft image, but will also be a loud memelord if I ever get comfortable enough.

I'm about to study HUMSS next school year, dreaming of becoming an arts teacher or prof, if I can manage. But I struggle with anxiety, which kinda clashes with my dream career, since a teacher requires confidence ,w,)

I tend to put others' needs before myself, I always want to make sure my friends are happy. The world is... horrible, so I really try my best to ensure they're smiling. It just gives me good serotonin if I know I made them feel happier.

My brain is horrible at keeping stuff, meaning I'm really forgetful. And oof, not really the smartest tool in the shed. No thoughts, head empty. Only love and escapism✌️😔 My dumbass brain is another thing that clashes with my dream job.

I like drawing, listening to music (distracts me from bad thoughts), video games (my most favs are rpgs and open world), horror stuffs, and crying whenever I see frogs and dogs. I also like plants. Ohh, and shiny rocks, heck yea.

Tho, I'm not really taking care of any at the moment, but I dream of having my own garden. I love the cottagecore aesthetic.

A thing I should add I guess is that I used to be a total weeb, so my behaviour and speech is heavily influenced. I'd sometimes casually drop a 'hai?', 'nani', 'nande kore' and etc. in convos. Kinda makes me cringe, but dang I can't stop.

Even if I don't enjoy watching anime as much as before, I do like anime movies. All ghibli films, Kimi no Nawa, Weathering with You and A Silent Voice are my favs.

I just love the soundtracks so much qoq

My worse flaws are I'm hella sensitive, a huge procrastinator, childish, and easily jealous.

But despite me being a lazy dumbass, if I put my mind into something, I will not stop until I finish the thing. Which means I also tend to overwork myself.

I know it's unhealthy but it really keeps me motivated, aaa-

I also seem to like acting as if I know a lot? I mean, I come across as that but my real intention is I just thought to share my knowledge of the subject.

I just say a lot of stuff because I tend to blabber and jumble my words.

I guess my love language is words of affirmation. Compliments, I love you's, heart memes, cheesy pick up lines that my sleep-deprived self thought of at 4am- all of em!

These are the weapons I torture my friends with o(○｀ω´○)9

But ahh, the thing is I've never dated anyone before. I find it so difficult to fall for someone irl, or even gain crushes. Mostly fictional. So I have absolutely no experience in the dating business.

Something to do with my self esteem and trust issues, ekk-

Oof, that's long. I hope that's not too much. Again, thank you so much if you happen to get to write this. Take your time, hun ^w^ ❤️💕 AAAA, and congratulations on reaching 100 followers!

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Hi! 

Noooooo i’m so sorry it took me so much time to write this ;; I hope you like the result though! thank you for your patience!!  💕 💕 💕 

I decided to match you with Mammon! 

Here is why: 

Okay so obviously there is a bit of a height difference, I mean he is not even near to being the tallest but thats exactly why he thinks you are the best height - it makes him feel taller and that is good for his confidence. 

Mammon is known for going out and socializing a lot - even if more often than not he ends up in some kind of unusual situation. He is good at taking the initiative in case you have trouble. Just don’t always follow through his ideas he suggests to bond, because most of the time it will end up getting both of you in trouble. I mean it’s not like Lucifer would punish you too badly because of something stupid Mammon got you to do (besides you having to listen to a lecture about why the thing you two did was dumb), but poor friend of yours is not so lucky.  :(

  I like to think of him as a positive, rather optimistic, maybe naive person but I think your cheerful attitude goes well with that. I mean think about the aura you two would spread! 

He would definitely be surprised to learn about your loud memelord side, but that would fascinate him so much because you can open up to him sooner than to his brothers and that also makes him more proud to be with you! I think that would also help him grow some real deep feelings for you

 I think you’d be a great influence on him to help motivating him to put some more energy into his education. Although the only reason he would care more about that is the study times he can have with you, and it is up to you to decide if those sessions are actually studying together (read: you tutoring him and him staring at you in awe when you don’t look but can’t grasp the material) or if there’s an attempt but a couple minutes later he is talking about how to earn money fast and both of you try said method.

Helping him study sometimes would definitely help your self-esteem! I think he can come off as rather confident, so hanging around with people like him would definitely boost your confidence!

I think he would literally melt if someone put his well-being before themselves. Theres no going back now he is lovesick. I mean just think about all the times his brothers make fun of him. 

 I’m prettysure he is the best at making people laugh! He has no care in the world even if he has to do something dangerously dumb to make you smile!! 

He can be rather forgetful too so thats something the both of you have to work on if possible, but relationshipwise that should not cause conflicts. Sure he might forget about some stuff but it’s never your bday or a date with you because both of you are in love. 

I think he can try your hobbies to impress you or just to have another topic to talk about, but he will probably never be the best at drawing. I think the amount of music you listen to would drastically decrease as he is very good at occupying your mind - with positive thoughts! 

It is confirmed that he alsp enjoys videogames and he is good at them, so thats something you two can do together when you don’t really feel like going out. 

If you show him horror movies he will scream and will not be able to sleep well for 2 weeks but he is going to deny that with his life so good luck! 

 I think he would find it cute that you like frogs and rocks and stuff, he might tease you a bit about it at first but if he sees a frog on sale he will spend his money to give you a surprise frog! it will probably be some live magical frog (either poisonous or some weird demon magic frog that will have everyone in the house of lamentation end up in a comedic situation). So that was the last time he got you something he has no idea about without asking you first.  

Oh he would definitely tease you a lot about your vocabulary, but Levi would catch on you because you might not actually be a normie... And thats how Mammon gets too jealous to ever tease you again about something like that - how can he allow Levi to hang out with you :( 

And that brings us to both of you being easily jealous. In some cases that might end in conflicts because one person gets annoyed but in this particular case you just need to have a conversation about it. Set some boundaries both of you are okay with, and no issue! 

I think to make sure your time alone with Levi is more limited he would totally watch anime movies with you! 

He definitely adores your determination! If you ever ask him what he likes about you, he will probably mention this as one trait.

 Hmmm as I elaborated before, you knowing more stuff about things will probably prevent situations that would be caused by Mammon not being informed about some stuff.

Okay so he is definitely one who sends you memes at ungodly hours and you can’t stop him. He is awake, lying in bed, too in love to do anything besides think about you and smile and face the issues of being the local tsundere. And then you send him a meme full of love and he can not fall asleep for the rest of the night, feeling butterflies and imagining soft things with you like he did with nobody else before. 

Okay so I’m not sure about his dating experience, but as far as a know he doesn’t really have much either? in that case both of you could explore this new feeling together! 

So in conclusion this boy is very much in love and he can only hope that you feel the same. Both of you are a good influence o the other and that helps the two of you to grow together. He might have slightly more experience but that’s okay. I see no conflicts here, maybe the only exception being the fact that he can be rude towards you and you are sensitive, but he is quick to stop being rude once he sees why he is so wrong. And that will be the best decision of his life so far because not long after that he is very much in love for the first time in forever. Both of you are loyal to the other and jealousy means no issue. Well, after some conversation, that is. Both of you experience life together and theres always something to do, to see! 

[crispychrissy]

Curses and Cuts

Summary: Sam helps you with a spell after an unfortunate incident in the bedroom, and you have a few things to say about his blood retrieval method. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1244 Warnings: Sexuality, minor angst, canon spell processes (including blood), implied smut A/N: This is the one thing that’s bugged me about how the boys get blood for spells. Every time they cut their palms I cringe. I am returning to work today, and once I get my routine back, I’ll be able to start writing regularly again. Thank you all for sticking with me. :) This was beta’d by @saxxxology and the gif was made by me.

“Hey, Sam?” you shouted deep from within the bunker’s spell supply closet.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice quiet and distant.

“Where’s the datura? I found the wattleseed,” you paused to snort a laugh at the name, “but no luck on the datura. Did you move it?”

He didn’t reply, and you were about to shout his name again when you heard heavy footsteps thump into the room. When the person, whom you assumed to be Sam, didn’t say anything, you turned your head and looked over your shoulder. Sam was leaning against the door frame, his eyes unabashedly staring at your ass where you were squatted down.

“Are you gonna stare or help me look?” you chuckled, glancing back to the shelf of ingredients in front of you.

“Why can’t I do both?” he purred, stepping into the room and belining for one of the side shelves you swore you already searched. He pulled a jar of dried flowers from the shelf and wiggled it between his fingers. “Datura. I alphabetized everything a few weeks ago.”

“Of course you did,” you sighed, standing up. Shuffling over to Sam, you plucked the jar from between his fingers, but before you could walk away, Sam’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Oh, hi there.”

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling down at you before pressing a kiss to your nose. “You sure you wanna do this?”

Burying your face into his flannel, you nodded. “I’d rather bind the magic now than have it get out of control.” You looked up at him and frowned. “I just wish my mom told me she was a natural witch. Would have given me a chance to prepare instead of almost killing you when we were having sex last week.”

“I already told you the curse wasn’t your fault,” Sam murmured, resting his chin on your head. “But at least now I can help you with the spell.”

You stepped back away from him and smiled. “Mhm, the blood of someone affected by your magic.”

Sam rubbed your arms with his warm hands and you closed your eyes, until Sam’s voice brought you out of your momentary silence. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Aside from your blood? Yes. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do it,” Sam said with a nod, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

The two of you made your way out of the room and back down the hallway to the library where the spell as being set up. The intricate pentagram design on the table under the large metal bowl took longer to draw than you cared to admit, but it was done perfectly to match the design shown on the spell book. While having your powers bound was a personal choice, this specific spell had a way to undo it, just in case your powers were needed. Rowena, who provided the spell, also said she would train you if you ever changed your mind.

You have so much potential, dearie, she’d told you before she left.

Yeah, right. After almost killing Sam with a blood curse during some particularly kinky sex... potential or not, you didn’t want to risk it.

Sam began grinding and chopping ingredients while you made sure the measurements were perfect before adding them to the bowl. Once everything was chopped, crushed, grinded, and crumbled, it was time for the final two ingredients: the blood of someone who’s been affected by your magic, and your blood.

Handing the knife to Sam, you nodded and stepped back as he positioned himself in front of the bowl. When he held his hand over the bowl and pressed the knife into his palm, you lunged forward, snatching the blade from his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing? Do you want nerve damage?! Don’t cut your palm, Sam, cut your arm. The palm is so sensitive and is covered in nerves…” you trailed off before looking up at him. “Do you guys always cut your palms for spells?” You reached out and grabbed his left hand, inspecting his palm before grabbing his right hand and inspecting that as well.

“Relax, Y/N. We cut our palms because they heal fast… and Cas can usually fix any nerve damage or scars when he heals us for other stuff,” Sam said, a hint of a smile in his voice at your enthusiastic concern.

“That’s not the point, Sam. Cas has lost his powers before, and you’re causing yourself more pain than necessary.” You pouted, putting on your best puppy dog eyes as you looked up at him, adding a subtle quiver to your bottom lip for emphasis. “I just don’t want you to be unable to hunt because you can’t hold a gun or move your fingers anymore.”

Sam looked at you defiantly, but his resolve crumbled after just five seconds of your puppy dog look. “Fine, I’ll start cutting my arm.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, passing the knife back to him.

Sam winked at you and rolled up his sleeve before pressing the knife to his lower forearm and lightly dragging it across. He hissed as the blade bit into his skin and extended his arm over the bowl, squeezing his hand to increase the blood flow. Once there was a few tablespoons in the bowl, you handed him a wad of gauze and took the knife, dipping it into a cup of alcohol before drying it off with a paper towel.

“Really?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know what’s in your blood, Sam,” you replied with a shrug.

Sam shook his head. “We have sex with each other, Y/N. You know I’m clean.”

“It’s not about STD’s, Sam. Blood can carry all kinds of nasty stuff. In a world of monsters and magic, I’d rather not be taken out by an infection.” You shooed him away from the table and stepped in front of the bowl. “My turn.” A quick and moderately painful cut to your arm later, you picked up the paper the spell was on and read the final step.

“Mei magicae lunae per alligatus,” you said clearly and loudly. A bright blue wisp of smoke plumed up from the bowl and spiraled around your body, wrapping you in various tubes of smoke that criss-crossed all over your body before disappearing with a poof and dissipating into the air.

“You okay?” Sam asked you as he finished duct taping the gauze to his arm, handing you the tape so you could do the same.

“I don’t feel any different, so how would I know?”

Some fabric rustled, and then Sam was pressed against your back, running his fingers up and down over your hips. “I can think of a way,” he purred into your ear.

You shivered at how close Sam’s mouth was to your ear, and the bulge that was pressing against your back twitched against you. “Yeah,” you swallowed, “I think that way might be the best.”

“Good,” he whispered into your ear, sending another shiver down your spine.

Sam straightened to his full height and stepped back before landing a firm smack to your ass, making you yelp and spin around. He only smirked and walked backward out of the room, leaving you needy and scrambling to clean up as much as you could before your libido took over. You were about to follow, when his voice trailed down the hallway into the library.

“Bring the duct tape.”

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @seenashwrite@kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @alexwinchester23 @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @curly-haired-disaster

Sam: @ronja-uebrick @hunterswearingplaid @focusonspn

[rennyji]

July 15th Morning Tweets...

July 15th Morning Tweets...

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Martina McBride - “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” - the song was made more beautiful by this woman’s voice…I feel women sound less and less like that, and also tend to look less womanly in appearance and more like girls…I mean women have a particular build (…can you say build with women?! I don’t mean broad shoulders like me or other guys and I’m not exactly referring to the body like a coke bottle from rap songs…)…there’s also something to their faces…can’t put my finger on it, but maybe women look like Wonder Woman or Gal Gadot acting as Wonder Woman, where as present day women looking like girls seem…playful?! in appearance…is that actually a thing or style?

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From the @TouchofModern app, you can always find innovative interesting stuff at discount prices. On a very dull level, compared to buying a fitness item of sorts, I found these really good quality shirts…what do I mean by quality? The material is good, the design is good, feels good, I think I’m thinking texture?!-it’s also good. The t-shirt brand I’m talking about are from a London/Spain based brand called “Felix Hardy.” Polo Ralph Lauren sells jeans that allow ur legs to bend and move around- I mean you get what you pay for, but I think Felix Hardy sells better shirts…

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so with all the philosophy Ive been sharing, I came across Matthew 16. A part of it goes, "The Yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees" . It states, -

-5 When they went across the lake, the disciples forgot to take bread. 6 “Be careful,” Jesus said to them. “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” 7 They discussed this among themselves and said, “It is because we didn’t bring any bread.”-

-8 Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked, “You of little faith, why are you talking among yourselves about having no bread? 9 Do you still not understand?-

- so yeast of the pharisees and sauducees...like 5 loaves miraculously feeding 5000 men or yeast expanding, an idea in our heads can spiral or take life for better or worse. be mindful of wrong ideas and the spiral they can take you. -

-be mindful of what the known and hidden orchestrators put out...you may only be aware of one group...be mindful, or “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

-In that BiblicalPassage, Christ says, "When they wentAcross the lake, the disciples forgot 2 take bread. “Be careful,” Jesus said 2them. “Be on ur guard againstTheYeast ofPharisees &Sadducees.” 7 They discussed this amongThemselves &said, “It is b/c we didn’t bring any bread.”-

- This is Christ saying, "take in His words and what religions offer, with an open mind, a kind heart, and INSIGHT-i.e. learn to interpret things and not just take things literally. -

-whether in life, reading, or understanding a person and their actions, look at context i.e. what came before, happening now, and the potential for future events...-

- it goes back to what I think I said yesterday about parables being like computer zip files. The way to unzip them is with insight and life experience. To repeat my specific words from yesterday: -

-Here’s a computer metaphor: parables are like computer zip files or compressed files. A zip file is a file that can contain multiple files and folders in the convenience of one smaller file.-

-You use a program to unzip that one file to reveal the multiple files and folders. The parables are zip files and you can gain a myriad of advice, lessons, truth from the same story. -

- From the 10 Commandments to the Golden Rule, in place of long volumes of texts using multiple meaning parables, Christ tries to give an easy, concise, “not-having-to-know-too-many-things” version to Salvation. -

-But you need a strong mind, need to use insight, need to interpret, and not JUST take things literally.

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So let’s assume mind reading can happen…you gotta ask to what extent…if someone were to say they can detect my thoughts, or let’s even assume I’m relayed while I slab aftershave all over my face, or while I’m in my boxers around the house, or taking a nap in my man cave of a bedrooms-which I have yet to gain the energy fo clean/organize…I mean what are my actual thoughts…I’m sure for fun it can be said he’s thinking this/that…but then, in those instances, do the orchestrators say I’m thinking what I’m writing in my blog? Aren’t those “thoughts?” When I write on the fly-perhaps I’m seen- can the orchestrators tell which direction I’m going with my writing?! So if mind reading is about thoughts, and you can’t detect my deep and “sometimes” philosophical mind, how can anyone say they’re reading my thoughts? Is that the orchestrators mistakenly saying  they detect “ impulses “ or the “sea of random things” floating through the mind?! Now Ive indicated this idea in past blog posts, maybe among the earliest of them, but I guess I have to repeat myself. So let’s assume the orchestrators detect the sea of randomness in a person’s mind…how many of those random things, popping up in the mind, do you agree with, act on, or make a “willful choice” to “contemplate further.” ?

I’m a guy and a Libran guy. I find women beautiful and enjoy killing time with women. Even in kindergarten, my best friend was a girl and I’d hover around her and keep watch while she talked in a circle with her friends. My father wanted sons, but I want at least one daughter and one son, the daughter of whom, I will probably call, “Lara.”

But back to alleged mind reading. Being a guy and, for sh*tz and giggles, a Libran guy, I see a beautiful or hot girl, my mind, like any other guy, will take directions. But reality is, while that’s happening, I could just be waiting to drop off a box at UPS. My focus is getting in and getting out of UPS, for that instant of time. I’d like to think my mind is governed by several copies of the baby version of my younger sibling. He’s a treasure and a doctor. So figuratively speaking, while waiting on that line at UPS, one of the copies of my sibling will scream, “Breakfast”, while another will scream, “ohhhh beautiful girl”, but how many will “I” act on amidst the screaming copies of my younger sibling? While my body may agree with hunger or attractions, my mind may have different plans. The orchestrators may say he thinks ur beautiful, but that’s like on impulse, without further understanding she doesn’t meet my type of smile requirements. So then, ultimately, would I consider her beautiful, for my needs? Can the alleged mind readers detect that, if it’s not actually explicitly said? I mean, my morning writings are thoughts, are those anticipated? If it’s on the basis of cr*p reading of the mind that people don’t talk to me, I tend to be shameless to the point that I walk around my room naked, under the belief I’m relayed all the time. I would totally value the person who tells me what’s going on and help me move on with my life, after all these years. All this said, this is not to takeaway from my belief that this mind crap and instruction based commanding of people, may have a role in the end of the world, as stated in yesterday’s (Wednesday morning) tweets/tumblr post. Don’t hesitate to talk to me, above all talk to me about “the situation” . I mean some confirmation/acknowledgment for living like this, for figuring out things through evidence/observation through the course of years-it’d be a reward through which youd make my day. Even if I lose a chance at being 6 ft tall or a billion dollars, I don’t care. You and me, we can start something together and say screw you to the world…Christians say the “Our Father” prayer…I say that more important than “Give us this day our daily bread.” Is “Thy Kingdom Come”. While it may refer to an actual Kingdom, there is another Kingdom in every mind. When we say that, we ask for the heaven state of mind in our heads. It brings about a strong state of mind that can handle and attain everything. It is about believing without doubt.In defense of this, Christ even says, “Seek first the Kingdom, and all these things will be given to you.” A mind close to God, that’s trained to handle anything, can achieve anything and reach new heights. In the “Our Father”, we say at the end: “For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever, Amen.”

“For Thine is the Kingdom (Throne of the Mind, where we, with our mental voice, reside amidst a sea of impulses and thoughts), the Power ( the power to influence minds and hearts belongs to God and should not be misused as “our own”, “ for human purposes”, to stupidly mind read/ mind control for government projects or social entertainment

-for this power is Holy.

Biblically, it is said, “But whoso shall cause one of these little ones who believe in Me to fall, it were better for him that a millstone were hung about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”

This is open to interpretation. The little ones or children represent innocence/purity, or an untainted mind. The crime of assaulting a mind is so severe, it would be better for that person to tie a stone around his neck and drown in the sea. To use a form of the Power of God to do it, you gotta ask, what are these people?!), and the Glory ( my survival alone, the words I relay, not from my intellect. When you see me, act natural and according to what comes to mind upon seeing me. Credit/Glory goes to The Divine. I’m just a passerby. I’m a nobody who likes to wear shades or get involved with computer work and buy his coffee and play rummy/card games with friend-girls or girl-friend. Don’t turn me into a role model, an icon, or associate me with fancy labels, for that poses danger to the First of the 10 Commandments.

Be natural, gain perspective from the relayed.)

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Religion is not about restricting your life, but to, if nothing else, give you an open mind and kind heart. Sometimes the rules and regulations make us judge one another, or give us high end superficial morals, or we get lost in the details. But they’re really guidelines to doing what’s appropriate for your life with insight. Religion can give different groups of a people an identity. Through Islam, a large group of people aim to speak one language of Arabic, and identify as one people beyond Pakistan, Afghanistan, or any of the other Middle Eastern countries.

One culture, one “new nation” identity, one language, one system to open the mind and promote kindness of heart, is the goal of religion. It is to make us our best selves and unite the world as One, be it under the label of “Earthlings” or whatever: something beyond American or I dunno Iraqi or whatever. Just be on guard: Discipline will lead to a good mind, but so that ur not robotic or overly serious, remember to train the heart. The Divine sees us as The Divine’s children. Maintain innocence and a mind open to adjusting/learning, like children.

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On another note, from observation over 30 years, I feel strict religious practices lead to things like obesity and other vices. I mean people are humans and humans have needs. Life consists of the idea of balance and taking care of your hopes, needs, desires. I mean, you may try not to drink alcohol because you think, among some peoples, that God wouldn’t approve. But that Friday/Saturday night with friends or doing/planning something fun, gives you something to look forward to. In the process of looking ur best for a party, throughout the week, you may better take care of ur health, work out, or eat right and in portions. I feel those who “have the attitude of” “alcohol is sinful” possibly also have mentalities that usually lead to vices like overeating.

In abstaining from one pleasure, you may give urself something to look forward to, by eating the best tasting foods frequently. You may eat a lot of sweets. I mean we’re human, we’ll have desires and vices. Regarding desire, it’s not desire that’s bad or questionable , but what you may possibly do to fulfill your desire or carry out your desire. You may think what else is there to enjoy in life or what else can I afford or do. This “could be” problematic. For one thing, you’ll end up obese, and an unhealthy lifestyle and eating habits can make ur mind cloudy. A cloudy mind makes bad choices or get themselves in more vices like being an inattentive spouse to ur partners conversations or a mediocre listener to your kids. These things can spiral as life from dawn to dusk is in motion in our surroundings and in the hunger and satiating of that literal/metaphorical hunger, daily. Motion!

I mean for the overly religious, a beer or two, or a shot of I dunno Johnny walker black label?! won’t kill you. In the process, it may be avenue to an insightful conversation with a potential friend. With something like sinful alcohol or whatever, I think no one thinks about whether the pros outweigh the cons, and the patterns of behavior it can lead to. While a shot of alcohol may be relaxing, too much can lead to bad choices like roaming busy streets, drunk. Alcohol is also bad for ur muscles if you wanna get jacked. But to each his own as is appropriate for their life in that particular instance of time in their lives.

On a related note, when I went out to a coffee shop mid to late Wednesday morning, it was really hot. I just showered, and was sweating a lot. After having blogged something philosophical, I started thinking about the Sikh men in the beards and turbans or the Muslim women in hijabs or even…is it called burka?(in reference to the long black gown/hoodie)…these are devoted people focused on Union with God. For a woman- I’m just guessing here- ur hair is one of ur assets. It might even be something you treasure. You, being a beautiful creature of the Divine, hiding ur silky or so hair, as a sacrifice, visible only to ur loved ones seeing ur appearance, is truly admirable. I’m sure that sacrifice won’t go ignored and will be spiritually rewarding. And regarding some of the Sikh men I’ve seen…these are some good looking dudes…I mean they’re tall, have the perfect tan, noticeable builds, and the Sikhs I’ve run into tend to skip grades in school. I knew someone who decided the turban and beard weren’t necessary, and he had a lions mane of hair and a face that shone like the sun…these men and women make these uncomfortable clothing accessory choices, not radiating the beauty God gave them, for God. In seeing this, and wishing you guys and girls the best, just wanted to share a thought. I’m a Christian. What do you think counts more in God’s eyes for me? Mechanically going to Church every Sunday and acting super perfect for the sake of what others think, or implementing the Golden Rule in my daily life? (Love God first and foremost, and your neighbor as yourself.) Does God appreciate more what I do with the gifts He gave me and me living my life in a way I can tell my Heavenly Father about my day at the end of that particular day? Does God care whether there is hair gel in my balding head on my fat mess of a body or does He value more the time I spend WITH Him in prayer and For Him in life through my words and actions? With that in mind, while the hijab or the beards and turbans will direct extra blessings ur way, I don’t think it should be required of your religions. All the hub-ub against Muslims…I mean these woman of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern descent are radiant and are like the I-Dream-of-Jeanie partners to their spouses, and their foods: from lamb gyros to the Afghan Chicken and Rice with the special sauce-some good stuff to be aware of…

---

lets assume you’re not seeing SOME of these postings today, on twitter, or tumblr, for the first time...maybe it was witnessed while being typed, as I’m typing, on the Notes app on my iphone...were the orchestrators aware that I’d mention my take on the Yeast of the Pharisees and Sauducees today? What are they calling this nonsense? Mind reading? Predictive Analytics?-A waste of time, an insult to human dignity, a testament to their indecency...

[synthsizedproductions]

Wildcard Wednesday # 5: Locked in Blood Chapter One

Hey, hey, guys, gals, and in between pals! I can't believe we're already at number five in this series. I know it's only been a month, but I'm super proud of myself for continuing forward even with some small setbacks.

This is a side story that I'm working on based on a Tumblr post that I've seen several times. This isn't part of the Synth Universe and will be found in the Side Stories section of the website. A link to the post will be at the bottom.

Hope you enjoy the show!

~Chance

CW: Blood

Chapter One

Vladimir looked through the mint condition cards he'd held sacred for so long. He hadn't kept them for over a century because he thought they would have more value later. He held hundreds of ducats in his hands, but money meant nothing in the face of immortality.

At least, it hadn't meant anything before even Vladimir Dracula fell on hard times in the 21st century. A plague ravaging the world was something he was familiar with, but it hadn't been on this kind of scale in a long time. Walking the night looking for easily convinced blood donors had become near impossible with the curfews and stay at home orders. Social distancing was a plague all its own on Vampire kind.

He spread the cards on the table with the utmost care. These cards were the most precious thing he had from a life long gone. His eyes rose to the ancient sepia toned photograph he had tended to with the same care as the cards. A sad smile crossed his lips as his gaze rested on the pair of men embracing in  the image. He began reaching for the photo, but pulled his hand back when there was a knock on his door.

"One moment." Vladimir dug his facemask from his pocket and looked into the mirror near his door to be sure it was sitting properly. It wasn't like he was going to contract the virus, but appearances needed to kept up.

Vladimir swung the door open and was surprised by not having to look down at the other man. Though he was not as tall as the fanfictions claimed, being almost two meters tall had him actually head and shoulders above most people he met. The second thing that struck him was the familiar brown eyes that met his.

"As much as I do not mind staring at your emerald eyes, are you going to invite me in to look at those cards?" The man's voice was like a ghost from the past.

If Vladimir's heart still beat, it would be pounding. It took him a moment to compose himself. "Yes, my apologies. You just remind me of an old...friend."

Vladimir stepped aside to allow the other man into his rather unassuming apartment. The long legged man strode into the main room and Vladimir could see him immediately start scanning his surroundings. Even this man's movements brought Vladimir back to that fateful day in Japan.

The man turned to face Vladimir again. The plain black mask obscured half of his visitor's face, but Vladimir could see the man's smile in his eyes. "Thank you for inviting me to see the cards. I was pleasantly shocked when you agreed to meet so late. Normally, people suspect foul play when I suggest meeting at midnight."

If Vladimir still breathed, he would be short of breath from the shock of seeing a shadow from his past. He had to compose himself again before he could reply. "Of course. I live a fairly nocturnal life, so this worked perfectly for me."

"Ah, another third shifter. Not enough of us around these days. Who will watch the walls while others sleep, Vladimir?" The man's laugh resonated within Vladimir as though he were a tuning fork.

Vladimir laughed as well to cover the sudden burst of nervousness. "Who, indeed. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage as I've forgotten your name from our exchanges. All I can recall is your username. Home_Sweet_Holmes. I found it quite clever."

The visitor sat on the edge of the couch. "Thank you. You can just call me Holmes. All my friends do."

"Are we friends?"

Holmes chuckled. "I hope to be once we complete our exchange. So, where are the first run cards you told me about?"

Vladimir led Holmes to the table. "These are my most valuable cards from the collection. I have many more I can show you if you are interested."

Holmes squatted down so he was closer to the cards. He looked them over like a jeweler, his brown eyes flicking about at a near inhuman speed. "May I pick them up?" Vladimir nodded, trying to pretend he wasn't studying Holmes like he was studying the cards. Holmes stood to his full height again and picked the cards up, examining them one by one. Vladimir could hear the young man mumbling about details in the cards, some of which Vladimir hadn't even noticed before.

Holmes replaced all but one of the cards in their original position. He turned the card that remained in his hand over with a curious frown. "I hate to devalue your cards, Vladimir, but this one is not valuable as the others you have presented. What makes this one so special?"

Vladimir took the card from Holmes and stared down at the collector's piece. He laugh and shook his head. "My apologies, Holmes. I forget this card is not as valuable to other collectors. This one was actually given to me by the friend you remind me of."

"Your friend had good taste and a good eye for detail. I am guessing you are unaware of its true value?"

Vlad furrowed his brow and shook his head before placing the card in Holmes' outstretched hand. "No. He didn't tell me anything was special about the card."

Holmes held the card up and  pointed to a mark in the corner. "This marking was only on a small batch of cards as a misprint. There are only fifty of these in the entire world. Beyond that, this is part of that batch which was personalized by the original artist from Nintendo. This is one of ten cards with completely unique borders and backing." Holmes turned the card over and picked up a second card to show Vladimir the differences. "What you have is a unicorn, Vladimir. I could not ask you to part with something this valuable on a monetary and personal level. Your friend probably wanted you to keep this one."

Vladimir took the card back, his fingers brushing Holmes' as they went by. If Vladimir's blood still ran through his veins, his face would be flushed. He pulled the card close to his chest and couldn't help but to glance at the picture of him and Sherlock.

Holmes took immediate notice and squatted down so was level with the picture. "This photograph is ancient. I am impressed by its condition." He tilted his head as he examined the picture. "Is this your great grandfather? The resemblance is striking."

Vladimir nodded with another nervous laugh. "Um, not quite. That's my great granduncle who I was named after."

Holmes picked up the frame with the lightest touch, holding it in both hands as he gave it a closer look. "Was this your uncle's...friend?"

Vladimir shook his head. "You don't have to play heteronormative with me. My uncle was a bisexual man in the late 1800s."

Holmes looked shocked by Vladimir's frank response. "It was very brave of them to get this picture taken. It looks a bit different than most of the pictures I've seen from this era."

Holmes handed the photograph to Vladimir who lightly touched the glass that separated him from the past. "My uncle's partner was brilliant and devised a way to take a picture without the use of silver. A silver allergy runs in my family and even being around the stuff they used back then could cause great discomfort."

Holmes tilted his head and squinted his eyes. "I see. What a curious allergy." The young man turned his attention to the cards again. "I'd like to take some time to consider my offer. Would it be alright if we met at my coffee shop in a few days? If you don't mind bringing some of those other cards, I'll gladly take a few off your hands."

Vladimir put the picture on the table and collected his cards. "I didn't know you owned a coffee shop."

Holmes pulled out a business card from an inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to Vladimir. "Locke and Watts Café. A 24/7 internet café that I and a friend opened a year ago. We are not well known yet, but we are attracting the local college scene. Or, we were before this virus struck."

"Have you thought of doing curbside pickup or deliveries?"

Holmes sighed. "Yes, but neither of us have a car and my bicycle is not suitable for carrying anything except me. I think it belonged to my grandfather and potentially his father before him. It is  something of a 'welcome to adulthood' gift. A busted up bicycle that the recipient is expected to fix with no outside help. I think my father actually made that part up to fuck with me."

"Your father sounds like a prick."

Holmes burst into laughter, doubling over for a moment before gathering himself again. "My apologies, Vladimir. It is just that those are the exact words my grandfather said to me when I told him what my father had said. He told me my father had always been a prick and always would be."

Vladimir laughed as well. "It sounds like your grandfather had good taste and an eye for detail." Vladimir tucked the business card in his shirt pocket. "Give me a call when you want to meet again, Holmes." Vladimir extended his hand but pulled back when he remembered the social distancing rule.

Holmes held up his elbow. "Elbow bump?" Vladimir raised his elbow with a clueless look. Holmes bumped his elbow against Vladimir's elbow. "This is what my friends and I replaced handshakes with. Way less worry about transmission."

Vladimir followed his guest to the door, holding it open for the young man. Holmes gave Vladimir a parting wave before disappearing in the dimly lit hall. Vladimir moved over to his window and watched as Holmes unlocked a familiar bicycle before riding off into the night.

Vladimir laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling long after the sun had risen. All he could think of was the specter of his lost lover that had visited the night before. He turned to look at his cellphone. "Please call soon..."

Queer Bookworm reblog 

[dragonbagel]

Retrograde - Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[thank u all for interacting, i rly appreciate it!]

Jack had never met Sasha before, but he already knew he hated her. He’d only seen her in one of Rhys’ old photos that he took out when he was feeling nostalgic, although Jack knew that he kept it in the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed.

Sometimes, when Rhys wasn’t home, Jack would carefully take it out and look at it. Although he’d never say it to Rhys, he loved the goofy smile that he wore on his face in the photograph. It was the same one he wore whenever Jack cracked a stupid joke or said he loved him, but it looked different on his younger features. He had to have been no older than 17 when the photo was taken, sprawled out on a couch with his friends. One of them, a girl in a weird hat whose paleness nearly rivaled Rhys’, had her arms folded in mock annoyance. The blonde next to her, whom Jack recognized as Athena’s girlfriend Janey, was cracking a wide grin that showed off her braces. A Hispanic-looking kid could be seen lurking in the background, a bandana holding his ponytailed hair from his face and thick goggles hanging around his neck. He appeared to be laughing at what someone had said off camera. Jack wished he could ask Rhys what had been so funny– he knew that Rhys still remembered– but Rhys wasn’t particularly fond of talking about his life on Pandora, and Jack didn’t want to push him.

And then there was Sasha, whose mere presence pissed him off. She was on the couch next to Rhys, snuggled against his side. He had his right arm wrapped around her shoulders– his real arm, not the cybernetic one he had now– and Jack felt a twinge of jealousy. When was the last time Rhys had held him like that? He ached to be near him, to lean against his chest, to breathe in the sweet smell of his skin. After the fight, it was like he’d forgotten how to live on his own. He made a mental note to work in some extra cuddle time when this whole ordeal was over. But first, he thought grimly to himself, he needed Sasha’s help.

“Is this the place?” Nisha asked, nodding in the direction of the closed apartment door in front of them. Jack nodded, checking one last time that the coordinates matched up before slamming his fist against the door.

“Open up, sweet cheeks! There’s a fucking emergency!” he shouted, ignoring Nisha’s quite obvious eye roll.

After a moment, the door cracked open a little, and Jack could see a bright green eye staring at him from within the darkened interior. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Handsome goddamn Jack, pumpkin,” he said as he threw his weight against the door, forcing it to open and knocking Sasha backwards in the process.

“What the fuck?” Sasha yelled, reaching towards her ankle to grab her pistol and force these lunatics out of her apartment.

She hadn’t even managed to get the safety off before she felt a gun press against the back of her skull, the unmistakable sound of a bullet clicking into the chamber causing her to drop her weapon and slowly raise her hands in surrender.

“Alright, you win,” she snapped. Jack signaled to Nisha, who’d managed to slip through the door behind Jack unbeknownst to Sasha. She pouted at Jack before lowering her weapon.

“So then, now that you’ve broken into my apartment, what do you want from me?” Sasha asked, eyeing Jack and Nisha suspiciously.

“We want…” Jack faltered, unsure of what to say. “We want your help.”

Sasha snorted. “With what?”

Jack remained silent, beginning to fidget. There was a piece to this puzzle Rhys had created that he couldn’t see, but he wasn’t exactly the type to ask for help.

“There’s been a kidnapping,” Nisha said finally, shrugging at Jack’s immediate glare. “What? We don’t have enough time for you to swallow your entire ego.”

Jack continued to glower, but Sasha cut in. “I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with me?”

“Listen, honey, I wish you weren’t involved, I really do,” Jack said, stepping closer to Sasha to make his height advantage clear. “But unfortunately, Rhys wanted his Pandoran trash whore involved in this little operation.”

Sasha’s hand came down across Jack’s face with a sharp crack before he could even react, grinding his mask against his always-sensitive scar. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Jack snarled, recoiling. “You think I don’t know about you and Rhys? About you putting your filthy hands all over my boyfriend?”

There was a murderous glint in Sasha’s eyes as she responded. “I always knew you were dense, but I never thought you’d be such an idiot.”

She walked closer to Jack, jabbing her finger against his chest. “If you think you can bust in here asking for my help then accuse me of messing around with my ex, then you need to get to get your head checked.”

Nisha placed her hands on Jack’s shoulders and slowly dragged him backwards before he actually started getting violent. “I’m sorry Sasha, Jackie here just gets a little… overprotective.”

Jack still looked like he wanted to strangle her, but at least he hadn’t pulled out his gun. The rational part of him (as small as it was) knew that Rhys was as good as dead if he killed her, but oh, what he wouldn’t give to wrap his fingers around her throat.

“Why don’t you go take a seat and let us gals chat,” Nisha said, herding Jack over to the armchair in the corner of the apartment. He didn’t reply, pressing his lips into a thin line. He sunk into the seat, thrumming his fingers against the armrest. His eyes were dark and unfocused, the image of Rhys’ bloodied face imprinted in his pupils as his tortured screams filled his ears.

“How can you stand that asshole?” Sasha said to Nisha as she stepped into the kitchenette. She wrinkled her nose. “How can Rhys stand him?”

Nisha shrugged, leaning against the countertop. “He’s not always that bad.” She paused, thinking. “Actually, yes he is. He’s just not this aggressive to people he doesn’t consider his enemies.”

“And what did I do to earn a spot on his hit list?” Sasha asked, filling a chipped purple mug with hot water before plopping a tea bag into it.

Nisha stared at her, her face growing serious. “He’s convinced himself that Rhys cheated on him with you.”

Sasha looked ready to interrupt and argue but Nisha quickly continued. “I know you didn’t, so no need trying to convince me. Unlike Jack, I can see past my own nose.”

Sasha chuckled at that, beginning to relax as she took a sip of her tea.

“Jackie, he just… he’s in deep. He loves that kid more than Hyperion itself, although he’d never admit it. And now that he might lose him, he’s blaming anyone he can so that he doesn’t have to take it all out on himself. Although,” she said, shooting a worried look in Jack’s direction. “I don’t think it’s working all that well.”

Sasha took another sip, considering. “So you both came all the way out here so he could use me as a punching bag?”

“God no,” came an obnoxiously cocky voice. “I’ve got an entire team of slackers in R & D I could yell at and airlock if I wanted to.”

The girls stared at Jack as he stepped into the room, his mask readjusted on his face and his features composed. “We really do need your help, pumpkin. And we’re in a bit of a time crunch.”

Jack launched into a quick rundown of the past 24 hours, impressively managing to keep his anger to a semi-normal level. “So, basically, he sent us here to find you,” he concluded.

Sasha’s face had paled, her fingers tightly clutching the mug.

“Do you know what he meant? About the vault key?” Nisha asked.

Sasha nodded, something dark and unreadable in her expression. “He wants us to create a fake. That way they’ll give us his location and we can make the trade.”

Jack gaped at her. “As much as I’d love for that to work, that son of a taint would see right through it, and none of us would be seeing a very happy ending.”

Sasha bit her lip before shaking her head. “I’ve done it before.”

Jack raised his eyebrows before letting out a low whistle. “Seriously?”

Sasha set her mug down onto the counter before walking over to the nearby closet, the other two trailing behind her. “It was one of the last cons Rhys helped me pull off before he came up to Helios, that’s how he knows it’ll work,” she explained as she began to rummage through the stacks of cardboard boxes inside.

“Hold up,” Jack said, folding his arms over his chest. “Cons?”

Sasha nodded as she found the box she was looking for, hoisting it up with a grunt and carrying it to the kitchen table. “Your boyfriend wasn’t always a goody-two-shoes programmer,” she said as she removed the box’s lid and dumped out its contents unceremoniously.

“I wouldn’t exactly say he’s a goody-two-shoes,” Jack said with a smirk, wagging his eyebrows.

Nisha socked him in the shoulder. “You’re disgusting.”

The nauseous looks on both her and Sasha’s faces caused him to laugh, the first time he’d done so in what felt like forever; at least, since the forever after he’d fought with Rhys.

“So you’ll help?” he asked.

Sasha nodded. “But I’m doing it for Rhys, not you. No offense, but you’re still an asshole.”

Jack shrugged. “None taken.”

“Then let’s get to work!” Nisha said, clapping her hands together before lifting up the lump of molding clay now laying on the table. “I’ll make the base and you do the decorating?”

“Sure,” Sasha replied, pulling out brushes, a few bottles of shiny-looking paints and a…flamethrower?

“What about him?” she asked, jerking her thumb towards Jack.

“I’m gonna call Tim Tams for a status update,” he said, sliding his ECHOcomm out from his jacket pocket. “Besides, you don’t want me messing around with all this arts and crafts shit. Rhys forced me to take a painting class with him once and I almost burned the room down.”

“Alright then,” Sasha said, readjusting her headband to keep her dreadlocks out of her face. “You can talk in my room for some privacy. Plus, I don’t need your annoying voice distracting me.”

Jack nodded, although a bit of his previous anger resurfaced as he glanced towards the bedroom. He grit his teeth to keep himself from making a snide comment, not wanting to break their still precarious truce. He fumbled to select Tim’s name from his contact list, pressing down just a bit too hard on the screen as he headed into the other room.

Sasha must’ve noticed, because she called his name, causing him to look at her over his shoulder. “I didn’t mess around with Rhys.” When Jack didn’t respond, she continued with a grin. “Besides, he always was lousy in bed.”

Jack cracked a slight smile at that. “Oh, honey, I’d beg to differ.”

He turned to slip into Sasha’s bedroom completely, closing the door behind him and leaving the two girls in the kitchen to continue with their work. He felt extremely uncomfortable, not just because he was in a stranger’s most private room, but also because a part of him still imagined Rhys tangled in the plain linen sheets. Even though Sasha had flat-out denied it, a part of Jack continued to feel ill at the image of someone other than himself seeing Rhys in such an intimate way.

“Hey Tim,” Jack said as a projection of his doppelganger’s face materialized from his phone.

Tim gave a small salute before rolling right into a status report. “Wilhelm was able to get a reading on the guy who nabbed Rhys. I’m sending you the info now.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at the file he’d just received, quickly opening it. “Hugo Vasquez, eh?”

Tim nodded. “Head of programming department.”

“He even looks like a douche,” Jack said, scowling. “Do you see that ridiculous combover?”

“I’m having Wilhelm try to get a read on his location,” Tim said, abstaining from Jack’s rude humor as usual. “He’d also looking into his computer files.”

Jack nodded, already planning out the precise way in which he’d kill him. After weeks of torturing, of course. He deserved no less after what he’d done to…

“How’s Rhys?” Jack asked, immediately feeling his heart stop at the nervous look on Tim’s face.

“Tim,” he repeated, his expression darkening. “How’s Rhys?”

“He’s, um, well,” Tim stammered, focusing most of his attention on avoiding eye contact. “You see, he’s–”

“Please!”

Tim froze at the sound, quickly turning to look over his shoulder.

“Please don’t! Please! I’ll do anything!”

Jack’s pulse quickened as he took in the sounds of Rhys’ pained cries. “Let me see him.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, but decided he valued his life a little too much and carried the ECHOcomm over to the arm. Wilhelm was nowhere to be seen, having determined that hunting this Vasquez character would be much easier to catch via his personal computer files rather than the crazy hacking maze he’d set up. Instead, a large projection of Rhys was the only thing Jack could see, and he immediately felt sick.

“They didn’t mean to! I swear, they didn’t mean to!” Jack watched Rhys shout. “I’ll finish the job, I’ll finish hundreds of jobs if you just stop hurting them!”

Rhys was struggling against his bonds, his single hazel eye blown wide and pupil dilated. There were tears staining his cheek, although they were barely visible amidst the dried blood.

“Who’s he talking about?” Jack hissed at Tim, his eyes still glued to Rhys’ face.

Tim shrugged, looking helpless. “I don’t know. There’s– there’s nobody in the room with him, Jack. That Vasquez guy hasn’t been here in hours.”

“M-mom!” Rhys shouted, his voice hitching as more tears fell. “No! You bitch! H-how c-c-could y-” he broke off into sobs again.

Jack stared forward, his features unmoving. “Is he asleep?” he asked finally.

Tim shook his head. “No, he’s been up for about an hour. At first he was just repeating the stuff about Sasha and the key, but now…” The confused, helpless look on his face spoke for itself. “Why do you ask?”

“He, um,” Jack said as he began to fidget with the corners of his mask. “He sometimes has these nightmares, wakes up yelling and all that jazz, and it just, well, it sounds a helluva lot like this.”

Tim seemed to think for a moment before suddenly disappearing from the corner of the screen, the sound of furious typing filling the speakers. Jack waited, raising his eyebrows.

“Y-you liar! You said if I did it you’d l-let them g-go, you promised. You pr-promised!”

Jack chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to comfort Rhys, to hold and soothe him like he did whenever Rhys woke up crying in the middle of the night. He’d never gotten any real information from Rhys about them, but he had enough of a brain to know that they had something to do with Pandora, something to do with the portion of Rhys’ life that he kept buried from everyone, even from Jack.

“I got it!” Tim said triumphantly, appearing back in front of the camera with a very familiar grin. “It’s some sort of synthetic eridium-based drug, basically a hallucinogen.”

Jack didn’t respond, the tightness in his chest worsening.

“It says here that it’s super hard to find, even on the black market,” Tim continued, reading off the database screen. “The only known mass underground producer was Atlas, and we all know what happened to them.”

Jack quickly nodded, already tuning Tim’s voice out as his hearing honed in on Rhys’ cries. I’m coming for you, babe, he thought as he felt something wet forming in his eyes (which was actually impossible, since Handsome Jack never cried; he didn’t even know if he had tear ducts). Don’t you worry.

[lifeonashelf]

CLARKSON, KELLY

Since we’ve already tackled a fairly diverse musical sampling in this tome, it may not shock you to learn that I sincerely think Kelly Clarkson is awesome-sauce. And I’m not just referring to her talent (which is obviously abundant) or her register of great songs (which is also obviously abundant), I’m referring to her essence—the authenticity she embodies, and how much more fundamentally likeable she is than any other pop star of her stature or epoch. I have not met Kelly Clarkson, yet her entire vocational ethos has been so blessedly free of pretention that I kind of feel like I know her, even though the only thing I know for a fact about Kelly Clarkson is that she is a singer named Kelly Clarkson.

I never viewed one episode of the American Idol season she won and I have never seen her interviewed as far as I can recall. The impressions I have of her character are intrinsic, based on nothing more than the calmative sound of her voice and the traits I instinctively suppose a person whose voice sounds like hers must surely possess (certain voices are just like that—I don’t think anyone on the planet assumes Morgan Freeman is a dick, for instance). By that criteria alone, I am led to believe Kelly Clarkson is a kind human being, the sort of gentle soul who gleans authentic happiness from making other people happy. I am led to believe she is a humble human being, the sort of grateful and unaffected luminary who lends her resources to numerous charitable causes without requiring any fanfare for it. I am led to believe she is a wonderful mother, although I am merely presuming she has kids since I don’t actually know anything about her personal life. And I am so innately certain of these things that if someone told me they have it on good authority that Kelly Clarkson bathes in the blood of kittens to preserve her youth, I wouldn’t believe that person for a second, even if they had pictures (conversely, if someone told me the same thing about Taylor Swift, they wouldn’t even need photos to convince me).

I have an anecdote which supports my hypotheses, even if the anecdote isn’t my own. My cousin Lauren worked at a restaurant in Hawaii for a few years, and on her last day at this café, a vacationing Kelly Clarkson happened to stop in to eat there. Since it was Lauren’s final shift, her co-workers were scribbling farewell messages on her uniform with magic markers throughout the day, inscribing it like the pages of a yearbook. My cousin’s engraved vestment drew the notice of the eatery’s eminent visitor, who amiably asked about its significance; when Lauren explained the circumstances to this world-renowned superstar in her establishment, Clarkson proceeded to gush about how delightful she thought the gesture was and asked if she could add her signature to the shirt. As a result, my cousin is now the proud owner of a decidedly unique piece of apparel which is autographed by a slew of her former hospitality industry peers… and Kelly Clarkson. When Lauren told me this story, I was acutely charmed and—yes, I admit—a little envious. But I was not a bit surprised, because that is exactly the sort of genial exchange I imagine everybody who meets Kelly Clarkson probably has with her (conversely, if Lauren told me that Taylor Swift came into her restaurant, wrote “fuck you” on her t-shirt, then defecated on the floor, she wouldn’t even need the signed garment to convince me).    

While artists like Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj have allocated periods of their careers to embodying post-apocalyptic femme-bots or community-theater sorceresses or whatever-the-fuck, Kelly Clarkson has exclusively devoted her career to embodying a performer named Kelly Clarkson who doesn’t come across as markedly different than the self-effacing lass named Kelly Clarkson who curls up on her tour bus after her concerts to watch old episodes of Friends (granted, I have no idea if Clarkson is a fan of that particular show, but she sounds like she must be). The only way I would ever recognize Lady Gaga in the wild is if she walked up to me and said, “Hi, my name is Lady Gaga”—and after I nodded and remarked, “oh, that’s kinda neat for you,” I can’t imagine I’d have much else to say to her. Yet if I happened to be at a craft store and I spotted Clarkson browsing the yarn aisles (for some reason, I also presuppose she knits a mean sweater), I would instantly know who I was spotting because she would probably look exactly like Kelly Clarkson always does, and I’d feel duty-bound to approach her, shake her hand, and thank her for being all of the things I assume she is. And if she wanted to hang out for a little while and chat about patterns, I would totally hear her out, because listening to Kelly Clarkson extrapolate on the textile arts sounds like a perfectly pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I have a strong sense that if I were to meet up with Kelly Clarkson for coffee—actually, now that I think about it, she probably prefers tea—we would totally get along; I also have a strong sense that Kelly Clarkson is precisely the kind of celebrity who actually would meet up with a fan for tea (not me, obviously, because I clearly sound like a lunatic right now).  

“The Girl Next Door” is such a tired trope (especially in my case, since the girls who live next door to me are a Goth lesbian couple), but that is indeed the model Clarkson educes: an ingenuous small-town gal-done-good who spent her teenaged weekends canning homemade jam with her grandmother and reading YA romance novels on her porch with a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade beside her (again, I’m not sure Kelly Clarkson did any of these things; regrettably, my insights into small-town living are limited to the saccharine tableaus represented in the Lifetime Original movies I’ve watched over the years—which, consequently, I presume Clarkson also enjoys). Her comportment evokes a high-spirited yet enduringly sweet kid sister you impulsively want to protect from the leering eyes of the world, and while she is certainly a beautiful woman, my attraction to her has never ventured anywhere near the realm of the erotic (my pop chanteuse crush is Demi Lovato, whose open struggles with bi-polar disorder, depression, and substance abuse—perhaps unfortunately—make her way more my type than Clarkson is). Honestly, I can’t envision making out with Kelly Clarkson; any fantasies my brain might entertain about her would be more likely to involve tracking down whatever scoundrel inspired the fervent pathos in her performance of “Behind These Hazel Eyes” and defending her honor by punching that fucker in the face.

I guess the word I’m really looking for here is “refreshing.” While Clarkson built her renown in a realm of play-acting, her career has been defined by an absence of artifice, which is ultimately a much more substantive thing to define oneself by than prowling around in spangled booty shorts. At her peak, Clarkson’s implicit message to the young women in her fanbase seemed to be, “you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not; just be who you are and great things will happen.” I’m certainly no prig, but if I had a music-consuming daughter who looked to pop idols for guidance, I’d much rather her absorb that philosophy than the one proffered by, say, Rihanna—whose well-publicized turbulent coupling with Chris Brown would instead tacitly edify my fictional offspring that “ride-or-die” means sticking by your man even after he beats the absolute fucking shit out of you.

Of course, Kelly Clarkson’s ascent was predominantly reliant on her faculty—I doubt millions of people bought her records solely because she’s a nice person—yet in that respect also, she handily outshined her contemporaries. While most of the circa-aughts female pop icons were essentially sonically interchangeable, Clarkson’s soaring vocals always had enough distinctive character to render them unmistakably hers—surely, no amount of Auto-Tune could have endowed the bottom-scraping likes of Fergie with enough juice to do “Because of You” justice. She was also savvy beyond her years, and it was her refusal to let her handlers dictate the course of her career that ultimately allowed her to flourish when so many of her fellow American Idol graduates floundered.

Clarkson’s sophomore album—2004’s Breakaway—turned out to be the best-selling entry in her discography, and will likely forever remain her most iconic opus. But she had to fire her manager and battle just about everyone else in her camp to make that disc happen on her terms. After riding the wave of Idol worship which lifted her safe and satisfactory debut Faithful to its logical ceiling, she was tenacious in her resolve to transcend that threshold and announce herself as an artist capable of achieving far greater heights than triumphing in a televised popularity contest. As preparations for Breakaway began, Clarkson insisted on being heavily involved in the songwriting process—disregarding the protests of her mostly-male producers, who myopically deemed that a twenty-something woman couldn’t possibly possess any insight into what the twenty-something women who comprised the largest audience for the record they were making wanted to hear. She was also adamant about integrating more diverse and dynamic elements into her sound instead of simply settling upon another cycle of tepid pop-contemporary numbers. The result was a monster of a record that offered up five chart-igniting classics and a supporting cast of remarkably strong deep cuts. As evidenced on Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson’s vision of her craft encompassed something much weightier than a series of Pez-dispenser singles and shark-costume dance numbers. She clearly wanted to make a cohesive album that never gave the listener occasion to reach for the Track-Skip button, and she succeeded brilliantly. Commencing with the anthemic title cut, the feisty “Since U Been Gone”, the masterful “Behind These Hazel Eyes”, and the show-stopping apogee “Because of You” in immediate succession, Breakaway is surely a front-loaded disc, but it’s nevertheless one that continues delivering gems long after it exhausts its radio bait: “Addicted” is as solid as anything else on the record, “Walk Away” brims with irresistible quirk, and despite being buried near the tail-end of the track listing, “You Found Me” is more indelible than most other artists’ biggest hits.

This, too, illustrates a refreshing component of Clarkson’s mien—she made an entire record worth listening to, a feat which regrettably few artists on the pop landscape ever seem to bother themselves with. None of the tunes on Breakaway resonate as throwaways; each has something to offer beyond a hummable chorus, and each is solely Clarkson’s domain, firmly entrenched in her esthetic wheelhouse and blessedly devoid of any posturized pandering or blundering Ja Rule cameos. Even at this early stage of her artistic development, she possessed a seasoned understanding of the clear difference between making a song marketable and making a song memorable, and a keen awareness that those two things are not mutually exclusive. Surely, Clarkson was just as aggressively promoted as any of her peers, but her product wasn’t aimed at the audience hungry for gyrating, hypersexual caprice—peddlers like Christina Aguilera already had that demographic covered. Kelly Clarkson wasn’t selling her navel, she was selling a much more durable commodity: fantastic songs performed by an exceptional singer. And the grandeur of her vocal acumen elevated her wares beyond the disposable and into the timeless—indeed, as of this writing, Breakaway remains a thoroughly satisfying listen; meanwhile, nobody would bother spinning an Ashlee Simpson album from start to finish today, not even Ashlee Simpson.

And unlike far too many of her colleagues, Clarkson didn’t require a force-field of studio trickery to bolster her transmission. The organic nuance and passion in her voice floated atop the reverb rather than drowning in it, and the intricate, exquisite descants she conjured revealed hours spent mining her soul for the best way to communicate the emotion each track called for instead of pondering what shoes to wear in the eventual video. Which is probably why “Since U Been Gone” still makes me pogo around my apartment every time I put it on, while every Katy Perry song sounds like it was specifically written for a lipgloss commercial.

Clarkson’s output has waned in the last decade or so—though “Stronger” is a notable high-point—but even if her most significant work is destined to remain behind her, the legacy she built for herself transcends her standing as the first and most successful American Idol victor (at press time, that is; I’m willing to entertain the possibility that Lee DeWyze or one of the seven other winners whose names nobody remembers might still create the most amazing record ever made). After weathering an era replete with shameful moments like the skinhead meltdown of Britney Spears, The Pussycat Dolls pledging the drooling males in their litterbox echelons of filthy sluttery their lowly mortal girlfriends could never aspire to, and Lindsay Lohan being Lindsay Lohan, Kelly Clarkson emerged with her class, her dignity, and her career intact. The reality-TV platform that introduced her to the world is now a footnote, but her catalog continues to stand the test of time. And even though I actually shook Randy Jackson’s hand when he ate at the restaurant where I work (take that, Lauren), Clarkson will always be the American Idol alumnus I feel most closely connected to.

Speaking of… Kelly, if you’re reading this: my last shift at Eureka is on Monday, January 28. If you happen to be in the vicinity of Claremont that night and feel like swinging by, I’d be honored to have you sign my shirt. Just don’t invite Taylor Swift, please; I heard she does some really gnarly shit to kittens.

 January 17, 2019