#as a fellow consumption themes appreciator

[sparklepoint]

When I was younger, I was indeed drawn to [carnivorous plants] for some strange reason... Perhaps I should reflect upon my childhood self.

ref credit

[queen-of-elves]

Spilled wine

Summary: These events were all the same, the same names, the same faces, at least that's what Aemond had always thought.

A/N: this is more of a crack fic but not really? Basically everyone is friends and happy haha but not really. Aemond still has the scar but it happened during some summer vacation and it was a complete accident + Aemond getting his walls knocked down by reader and being absolutely whipped for her

Btw this is probably the most ambitious fanfic I ever attempted to write when it comes to the word count, so I am sort of proud of myself

Fanarts for this fanfic: The snap screenshot, some sketches of outfits, kiss

Masterlist

Words: 8,7K

Warnings: english is not my first language, drinking, mention of dr*gs, alcohol consumption, minimum use of Y/N, male oc present at the table, swearing, +18 themes but not smut

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Red and white

Aemond did not appreciate his mother pushing him into attending these kinds of events. Opulent and full of rich fellow friends of his sickly father. This was nothing more than a powertrip for their egos. Socialize, make connections and exploit them in the foreseeable future.

And this event was a definition of what he hated. Noone was there to actually enjoy themself, it was all an illusion. This was a competition: who can get more information while sipping on their drinks, who could manipulate another investor after doing lines in the dim bathrooms, who could win another connection to centuries old wealth. Aemond felt sick to his stomach over these thoughts even though he was born into this world. However, the worst part of this whole farce was that he needed none of that, except his grandfather did. His scheming got even more out of control since Aegon moved into Aemond's apartment, destroying his plans of him being the heir to their father’s company by being a reckless drunk out in the open.

And now he was standing next to him in a freshly pressed suit, dark green fabric turning black in the evening darkness. He once found suits and formal clothing as a second skin, armor he could hide underneath but they were now constricting him. Aemond’s younger self was always obsessed with this image of the perfect son. Well educated, polite, manners of the perfect gentlemen, perfect son, perfect in everything. PERFECT. The older he grew the more he started to resent the word, the more he started to fear it in some way. No matter how much he tried, it was never enough. While his brother was failing in everything he touched, Aemond was succeeding and it was all for nothing. 

His mother was giddy to introduce him to people, ready to make a match of him and some rich lady, probably at the instigation of his grandfather. Another face, another introduction. Aemond did not remember the new rich people introduced to him by his mother. And why should he, he did not expect to see them again. 

He already knew the proper aces in the field since he was 9 years old, he remembered well Lannisters who did business with his father through their banks or the Royce family, giants in the food industry and of course Hightowers, his grandfather’s and his mother’s name, his uncle Gwayne being one of the best lawyers. Aemond was meant to soon join him, after he finishes his studies.

When I finish college.

There were many more of these names, sewed into his brain since a young age but these names did not change, they were all playing the same game with the same moves with the same chess pieces since he was born. Generational wealth hiding from the new kind, gatekeeping their society from the rest, while they enjoyed parties with the best of the best.

“Oh, Aemond, do you remember Margaret Baeltigar?” Soft touch of his mother’s hand, almost as if burning him, woke him up from his thoughts. He had no recollection of such a lady, maybe she was one of Alicent’s so-called friends or maybe some wife of an investor in the family’s company.

The lady was slightly older than his mother, clad in a light blue gown, her boney hand clutching her glass of champagne. She was the kind of skinny only obtainable by starvation, unhealthy diet. The smile she gave him was forced, too much white pearly teeth showing for his liking and for it to be sincere. Her posture was rigid as if she was posing and maybe she was, to him, to his mother, to everyone.

“Of course.” The polite small smile fell unappreciated since her gaze had already turned away, wide eyes searching for something specific, someone specific in the crowd of empty faces.

“Here she is…” Those words seemed forced, like an unwanted gift you still have anticipated, so you keep smiling to please the donor. “Finally.” Her mouth was once again outstretched in that horrendous toothy smile, lips almost cracking under the strain of holding it all together. Boney arms holding out for a hug.

“Hello.” There was a polite voice behind him but he did not turn. Aemond already knew what this was about, this was not the first time he would get ambushed by his mother’s scheming mind into the web of being introduced to some bratty heiress. He did not even notice when his brother ran off, probably searching for another drink or a white powder to misuse, leaving Aemond to fend for himself. 

The young lady moved in a nonchalant manner, her attention solely on her mother and her outstretched arms. The hug was awkward, he could feel the deja vu pulsing through him. Image of Aemond and his mother enveloped in such a hug. A constant reminder of the chasm between them over unsaid things.

The stark contrast between the mother and her daughter was apparent. Boney corpse parading around the mirage of a living body dressed in light blue dress and young lady in red, bow tying it all around her neck, accompanying her.

“This is my daughter.” 

“It’s so lovely to meet you, dear.” The smile on his mother’s face was sincere, in some manner she was always excited to meet new young ladies, if it was ‘cause of her single sons or lonely daughter he did not know.

“Oh, thank you.” There was untypical shiness to her, voice not trembling but slightly fighting to be heard in the overabundance of loud talking. She seemed confident enough next to her own mother just like he was next to his. Her bright eyes had moved from Alicent to him and Aemond recognized the uneasiness in them. Used to the parties but not used to the contact with people at them.

“I am Y/N-” Her words just like her unstretched hand toward him were interrupted by her mother abruptly moving to the side. Attention of everyone in the conversation then shifted to the new face entering in. Another young woman, this time more similar to the mother in her face, same structure but much younger was now staring at him, grinning widely. The white dress shining in the light.

“Oh, you have to meet my oldest! She is such a delight!” This time Mrs. Baeltigar’s voice was high pitched, excitement radiating from the statement.  This was the second time Aemond felt deja vu struck him on this particular night. Oldest and delight, that’s how his mother used to talk about Aegon in front of everyone. Her most prized son, a son who did not care for his education and ended up on his younger brother’s coach, hiding from the rest of the family. 

The Baeltigar’s oldest daughter was marching right to them the moment she realized her mothers presence. Almost bumping into one of the waitresses' sides, overjoyed by the possible introduction, she clung to her mother’s thin left arm. 

“Margo Baeltigar, pleasure to meet you,” Margo’s voice was similar to her mother’s high pitch and sugary, leaving a sour taste in Aemond. The oldest was almost hyper focused on him and before he could even react to her introduction, she opened her mouth again but no words got to him. Because while this conversation took place the other sister carefully navigated her way around her sister’s body, moving into the background. Her figure slowly and unnoticed disappearing behind the two M named ladies, fighting for his and Alicent's attention.

There was a heavy stone set in his throat, his stomach fluttering at the same time and Aemond did not know what it meant, not yet. 

Aemond was thankful for not being seated at the same table as his mother or anyone from his family and while the company next to him was quite boring he knew it could have always been worse. Five seats out of six already occupied, he was not expecting any miracles from the last person yet to arrive. 

On his right was one of his father’s long term investors with his wife, a quiet old man with an already full belly even before the food had yet to arrive, his wife still yapping in her husband’s ear since they were seated, while on his left were two other men, one of them younger than the other. The younger one seemed like a total newcomer to this kind of event, to this kind of society too, his eyes constantly darted from one table to another, trying to identify everyone present. However, the man next to him was the opposite, comfortably sprawled in his seat, his hand leaning on the young man’s chair, black eyes observing his behavior, finding amusement in it. His smooth hair was graying just like his beard but there was pleasant handsomeness in his face. 

“I was almost afraid you would run off,” The silver fox at their table spoke up, gaze heading to someone behind his shoulder, the last person finally arrived at their table.  Aemond was only slightly interested in the person, another short distraction in a long night, he knew them all and quite frankly, they were all boring. 

The figure moved, he could feel the movement behind him, wind picking up, fabric rustling, heels clicking. A woman. Or a very short man, he had noticed several guys trying to hide their shortage, pun intended, by clapping heels hidden beneath longer suit pants. 

His hand gripped the champagne flute, glass slick with condensation, almost causing shivers down his spine. The liquid was bitter, bubbles fizzing on his tongue, and for a second it was an uncomfortable feeling before the drink slid down. In moments like these Aemond understood why his brother was always drinking, in the end there was nothing else to do. 

The new addiction to the table was finally at her seat, still chatting with the man. And just like the bubbles his boredom fizzled off. The bow was gone and she was no longer wearing the pretty red dress. Her current dress was snow white, like fresh cotton sheets, and on one shoulder. The fabric was dangling off her in an awkward manner, almost as if it was not meant for her. Her shoulders were hidden by black suit jacket, a decent and modest combo, however, it was apparent the outfit was not meant to be this way.

But white suits her.

“Don’t worry, I just went to save my sister.” The almost silver haired man moved the empty chair for her to sit in more comfortably, too eager for a new distraction at the table just like Aemond was. And once again Aemond felt something within him move, how did they know each other, were they close, he might be years older than her but even his mother was significantly younger than his father. 

“Oh, what has she done this time?” Laughter erupted from the man, cheeks blooming red. For a moment, Aemond thought she would take offense to such a statement, he probably would but only in the sense of feeling embarrassment for himself stemming from his brother’s failures. In some sense he loved his brother but on most days he was exploding in anger over Aegon’s public mistakes.

 However, she only sheepishly grinned before motioning to her side. “Spilled some wine on herself.” And truly there it was, ugly red stain on her hip, the jacket covering it just enough to not be prominent in the evening dim lighting, saving her from judging glares.

“Of course you did.” This time the man was the one with a sheepish smile hiding behind his glass, twinkle in his eyes indicating some kind of hidden joke. 

The Targaryen felt like he was the only one witnessing the conversation even though the full table’s attention was turned to two. His eyes were scanning her face, then the dress and then her face again. She acted as if she was so used to it and there was silent understanding on his part for such action. It wasn’t long before the two noticed his unmoving gaze, while the other occupants of the table turned to their own matters.

“I suppose our introduction was cut short. I am Y/-,” He did like her smile, it was soft, not quite reaching her eyes, not in a malicious kind of way. To an untrained eye it would only seem like a sincere reaction, to Aemond’s it was apparent her smile was the result of years of practice. 

“I know.” His voice cut through her sentence like a hot knife, stopping her completely. Aemond knew of his talent to be awfully cold to people but this time he had truly overdone himself. The smile he rewarded her with, trying to improve his reputation, only received by a puzzled look from her and her companion. 

This night can’t get worse.

Rough grimace struck his face, muscles twitching under the pressure of his failing. He was good at this, he was good at these events. So why was he fucking it all up today? Bitter feeling bit his throat and he wished he could swallow all the shame in the world, devour every mistake he ever made so no one could gaze upon them and he would be perfect again. Was it because she felt familiar to him? Because she had the same watchful eyes behind her every step, watching her to complain about her wrong doings? Or maybe he was completely wrong and playing himself entirely.

After the food arrived, most of the over the table conversation had died down, except for a few whispers here and there between some of them. He did not register any kind of taste, all was now in a fog to him, the illusion of a perfect man shattering with each glance turned to her. Only consolation prize to him were the few and far inbetween looks she rewarded him with. The plates with food were gone just as fast as they appeared, all in a flash moving forward. It was time to go out, social torture once again in progress. 

And at the end of the night, when most of the guests had already left and the rest were getting ready to leave, he saw a glimpse of her saying goodbye to the older man from their table. Aemond realized he never got to know his name but he knew he could turn the tables, he could make this right again. 

There was not much left of the courage in him on this grim night, but what was left had to be sufficient for now. His movement was rigid, he weaved between the people, tables and chairs, mind almost blank except for the command to move forward, to go to her.

“Hi.” Was his voice always so rough? He tried to swallow with no success, the lump in his throat winning.

“Hi.” Her eyes were wide, caught by surprise, she moved to fully face him. The light softly illuminated her face, giving her a certain glow he knew he would never forget. There just was something so familiar about her. Like a picture he has seen before but now had no recollection of. Have they already met? He couldn’t remember even though he really wanted to.

“Sorry about the…” His head moved to their table, indicating what he meant without having to say that. Aemond was sure he would spontaneously combust if he had to talk about his own rudeness caused by the unfamiliar uneasiness in his stomach more than this.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Her answer was so casual, as if his rude behavior was long gone from her mind, while he wanted the opposite even if it were her remembering only the worst stuff about him. He needed her to remember him.

He could hear someone call her name, the shadow of her mother frantically waving her hand at them, signaling something to her. There was a drunk mess of a person even further behind her mother, hair everywhere, red dress tripping her on uneasy legs.

It was an image he was so used to by now, but this time, it was not his responsibility. It was someone else’s. And somehow it changed nothing, there was a bile rising up inside him, hands sweaty and heart beating too fast, such a familiar situation he saw her in. It was like looking in the mirror.

She was biting her lip anxiously, some part of her evidently annoyed at her sister and he wanted to tell her to never ever do that again. He wanted to take all her worries away, he wanted to do that for her.

“Sorry…” Her shoulders visibly slumped, one of her shoulders escaping from under the black jacket. “Have to go.” Her manicured thumb pointing behind her, at the mess she was meant to deal with. Her older sister was drunk off her mind, stumbling in the crowd, the man with her unable to hold her straight up, part of him found relief in the fact Aegon was not with her. One of her heels dangled off the man’s hand while the other wrestled to keep her on her feet.

“Have a great night!” Aemond thought these words might haunt him for the rest of his life, the rest of the night squished into few fragments of him saying bye to people and getting back to his apartment, while some part of him was still stuck in the moment with her.

Teal blue

This time she was wearing teal blue gown, satin complementing her skin like nothing he has ever seen. Her smile was wide and even though Aemond saw her only in passing, a warm feeling spread through his insides. Since their first encounter he had chastised himself for his behavior, praying for a chance to redeem himself to her.

However, they were not seated at the same table and for once he found himself disappointed for the lack of his mother's interference. And so after losing Aegon, in the crowd, even though he was meant to babysit him after his last drunk tirade at some club went public, he began mapping the whole place in hope to find the teal gown in the crowd. 

It was after the obnoxious dinner that he found her standing next to the bar, the silverfox by her side once again. Aemond could not hear them but it seemed as an interesting conversation by the way her arms flailed while explaining something. Wide grins spreaded over both of their faces before a round of giggles overcame them. Faced near each other in secretive closeness, they held on the other’s arms strongly while their bodies shook in held down laughter.

He wanted to know what they were to each other, how back they went and why they held each other so familiarly and he wanted to do the same with her. It was like a new emotion, jealousy he had never experienced. 

His pleading stares must have awoken some mercy in her. The young lady bid goodbye to her friend and gracefully walked over to him, still holding his gaze. And even though Aemond’s attention the whole night was fixated on the image of her, now that she was there, he was lost for words. 

“Evening.” The cheeky smile was back and if it was to disarm him it worked perfectly. Lost in his nervous thoughts, he chewed on his cheek, an anxiety filled bad habit he picked up as a kid. It took him a moment to realize she was patiently waiting for his reply. He completely forgot he was meant to give her his greeting too.

“Evening.” He could only mutter his reply. Needles of uneasiness prickling along his spine, giddy feeling spread through him now that he was once again near her. He needed to set it right, courage boiling his throat but no words came out, he was overwhelmed by all of it. His solace was found in a similar scene in front of him. 

She, like himself, was in a frozen state, mouth open, ready to speak and eyes moving all around the room, searching for something to say. Both of them desperately need to say something to the other, not only to fill the silence but for the simple reason to converse with the other one. 

The voices and music completely overwhelmed them and while they hoped it would soothe some of the anxiety over their failed meetings it only fueled their nerves more. Their eyes met again, corners of their mouths simultaneously lifted, smiling like idiots. And there was a silent understanding between them. The ballroom is too loud, let’s move it to the balcony.

The balcony itself was absolutely quiet, there was no one who would disturb them. Night cold breeze was slowly picking up but the heat from the inside was enough to keep them satisfied. He could not see the outside properly, lights blinding his vision of their surroundings and he liked it this way. 

Maybe this time he would not come off as a rude idiot to her, maybe this time it could all end well. Both of them stood with their backs to the lights of the ballroom, only darkness before them and cold railing underneath their hands. The silence between them was comfortable, for now at least.

Aemond was aware of the intense stare she was giving him, precisely his fake eye and the scar dividing the bad eye socket into two. It had been years since he gained the injury, the scar no longer dark reddish color but more of a white pink, it faded slowly, plus his mother begged his father to pay for laser treatment to help it fade out quicker. He also got gifted the new fake eye, his mother was absolutely ecstatic over it, her sweet son’s face finally appeared more normal. 

He knew she did not mean it that way but it still hurt, and the eye itself hurt or maybe it was the injury itself. If only he could wear his eyepatch to these kinds of events but according to his mother it was too eye-catching (pun not intended) compared to the fake eye even though if someone looked at him for too long they would probably notice not only the scar but the fact he could not fully open the eye or the lack of movement in it. And so fake eye it was.

“How did it happen?” Her eyes softly cascaded over his face before settling on his bad eye again.

“It was…,” Aemond felt like he couldn’t breathe, not this conversation again ,” an unfortunate accident.” Over the years he had dozens upon dozens of people asking him the same question and not stopping snooping even with his short answers cutting them off.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Her attention turned to the crowd behind them, they might have moved to one of the balconies but the noise of people was still present.

“It’s okay.” He hummed, never knowing what to say to those who pitied him over the injury. “It happened years ago.” Aemond hardly ever thought about it now, it worked as a bitter reminder of his own carelessness in the end. And while some responsibility laid with his cousins and brother he knew it was his decision, he couldn’t blame them for it even if he did at the start.

“It’s more purple.” Her attention was back on him, staring right at  the fake eye once again.

“What?”

“The other eye.” Her delicate hand pointed to his left side of face. “It’s more purple.” Aemond knew the prosthetic he got was not identical in the color to his other eye and while others claimed he was only imagining it, he knew. He knew it was not the exact shade of purple like his other eye.

People always saw the younger son of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, second born son, the Targaryen boy, not Aemond. Not the young Baeltigar, she looked at him, not through him, not at his family, not at his very possibly, almost surely, shiny future thanks to his name.

He had never felt so seen in his life and being known by her became a carnal need to him.

This time it was his mother who called for a saving of an older sibling, in the middle of the night Aegon had sneaked away from Cole’s watchful eyes and ended up drunk as the dirty pig he was. They must have found him half asleep on some naked lady’s back in one of the private rooms of the manor the event was at, his hair was a complete mess, his earring already gone and tie let loose. Aemond expected him in a worse state than this, most of the time he was called to him half dead, this was nothing compared to those times. But his mother was red faced, completely embarrassed by his brother’s antics.

Light pink

It was weird, feeling this nauseating feeling within him. Aemond felt like a little boy again, excited for another gala where he could show how perfect of a son he is. When he was still a child he would parade himself around, maybe because his mother and father did not, while Aegon got all the attention. 

However, this time it was different, this time it was only because of one person, one person’s perception of him. He was excited to see her and for her to see him. Their last talk left him hopeful for more.

This time it was her who found him, dressed in light pink fabric that was easily floating around her in the soft breeze, she found him right after dinner. He was just thinking about the appetizer, perfectly composed plate with balanced flavors but he could not figure out what the sauce was made out of. It was a little game he liked to play with himself, so he wouldn’t lose his mind over the boredom. 

“Are our meetings destined to be cut short every single time?” With a champagne flute in hand, another occupied by a whole bottle of it, casually staring him down with a light smile gracing her face, she talked comfortably to him.

“Hope not.” He could feel corners of his mouth twitching and soon a similar smile appeared on his face. It warmed his heart that she was the one to find him, that he was not the only one searching for her and she herself was on a mission to find him. 

Just like the white dress, or any other actually, the light pink shade suited her. The thin fabric of the short sleeves hid her shoulders away from him but he was still fascinated by the soft skin of the inside of her arm.  He could feel the twitch of his fingertips over the thought of touching her there. 

Once again soft silence creeped on them while the both of them observed his older brother, balancing one glass of whiskey in his hand while trying to stay upright, his attention far away from the liquor spilling over the brim but on the young lady in front of him. If it was anyone else Aemond might have felt embarrassment bubbling up to the surface but since he had seen her own older sister in similar state, her presence left him unmoved by it. 

“I think some part of me hates him.” The words left him before he could fully comprehend what he was saying.

She hummed at that, it was a comforting sound he did not deserve, at least in his head. No proper brother could say something like this about his sibling. Regret was a bitter friend to his heart and to his mind. He should not have said that, not to her, she should not know how angry he was inside. 

“He is my brother.” He tried to convince her of his sins against his family, his kin. Part of him did not want to acknowledge fully what he said, he prayed to stay in her good grace, in everyone’s good grace by being the good son, the good Targaryen boy, polite, smart, sophisticated.

.

“I know.” She laughed with ease and Aemond knew the bitter feeling was not going to fade away, as always. He could not escape the regret of speaking out, he did not deserve any pity.

“It’s so hard to explain to anyone.” The words fell off his tongue so freely, Aemond thought someone else was using his mouth to voice out their concern. 

“Right?” Another comforting sound came out of her and maybe the bitterness could fade away from him, from both of them. He could feel it radiating from her skin, they were so similar and unaware of it until now.  “Everyone always tells me to just let it go-, you don’t own them anything and yadayada-, but I can’t-”

“Because she is your sister.” Before she could finish, he knew what she was going to say, he knew those words too well. Everyone said them to him, let it go, let your brother go, he will fuck up and he will have to solve it. However, he could not because in the end he was the one getting voicemails of his drunk brother’s voice, panicked calls from his mother, there was no escaping it, his blood, his family tree tied him to this whole mess. Just like her.

“Yeah…” she nodded, tired from the whole situation. “Exactly.” He did not like the line between her brows, frown caused by his voice, his words. He wished to never see that expression on her face ever again.

“We can’t save them.” The wind pushed the words away from the pair and neither of them knew who uttered them first or who regretted them before the other one.

Another sip of champagne turned into two and then a long gulp, they shared the alcohol so freely, Aemond felt like he could fly in the sky, happy butterflies flapping their wings on the inside of him. She soon downed her flute and instead of filling it back up her hand set the glass down with a clink. 

The light from the ballroom framed her perfectly, creating a vibrant halo around her silhouette. And again Aemond was lost at the vision of her. She was so comfortable in her skin, in her own struggles, in this situation. She felt comfortable even to him and he wanted her to remain comfortable for the rest of her life.

And so he nudged her shoulder with the champagne bottle, creating a moist trace below her armlet. For a moment he was hypnotized by the droplet and its slick path trailing down her arm. He envied it for even a longer moment, to trace her skin to him is to die of the fire inside him. 

Her hand gripped the bottle, tilting it slightly, another sip of the still cold liquor ended in her mouth. And with that he realized she drank alcohol like Aegon did, with no struggle, with no twitch in her face over the bitter taste, like she liked the feeling of it hitting her tongue. He missed the weight of the bottle in his hand and the empty feeling started to itch on his skin, before he realized.

It felt almost intimate, his cheeks aflame and the little boy in him was kicking his feet. An indirect kiss. He drank from the bottle himself before her, their lips touched the same surface.

He did not even notice how the evening turned into a night, only darkness now facing them on the balcony high above ground. Voices behind them have yet to tune down but he could feel the event slowly ending.

And the familiar man was back, simply nodding to her not daring to step even a bit to them, only glancing at them from the inside of the big hall. The smile on his face might have been in a friendly manner but his round glasses hide the glint in his black eyes.

“What are you two?” Throughout their conversations Aemond realized he liked how she enjoyed his forwardness, just like he did with her. There was no shame between them.

“Me and…” there was a slight twitch in her face and she tried to contain it, unsuccessfully in the end “Kim?” 

Kim. 

He did not mind the name, it went over his tongue and he swallowed it slowly. It was not a name he hated, it just felt unfamiliar. However, he was not afraid of it, not with her by his side. The fox be damned.

The laughter was soft, almost scaring him for a moment. Whispered giggles as if she tried to hold it in, turned into a full blown cackling. Her body bending forward with hand set on her stomach, she looked at him, shining once again. 

“He is my friend. Like an uncle… some sort of, I guess.” She giggled at these words. Quick glance and he saw Kim looking their way again, smirking in a conspicuous manner. 

“Oh.” Embarrassment reddened his cheeks, shattering any kind of thoughts left in his stupid thick skull, except for the two voices.

Of course.

They are just friends.

Calm down.

Thank god.

Tucking on his sleeve, he turned his full attention back to her. His body was so close to hers, he could almost distinguish the shape of the lights reflecting in her eyes. And her wide eyes only stared at him. Aemond could get used to this kind of attention, he loved it too much for his liking. It was intoxicating.

Her arms enveloped him, she folded him into her embrace like it was nothing, it was an instinct to her. Even Aemond could feel she needed him close, a secret message embedded into the touch but the meaning was evading him. Both of them knew though, this meant something to both of them and it calmed them.

She was holding him so close and so gently, he never ever experienced something like this. No one ever treated him this way, he almost thought he did not deserve it. It was foreign but not unpleasant but he still felt undeserving of this. To receive kindness was a different kind of punishment for him. Warm touch burning him to the bones, scarring him, it was an awful feeling like nothing else. However, this felt holy, as if gods decided to bless his horrible mind. His horrible mind that only thought of her, how he could keep himself in her presence. She was warm and kind, dark as a shadow and present in everything. No, there might be a holiness in her touch, that kind he might become slave to, but to her, there was nothing saint. She was rotten, broken and mend on the inside like him and still she decided to look at him as if complete, as if she accepted it. And Aemond knew he could never get enough of it.

At that moment it was apparent to him. Hell existed and for them it was their sacrifices for their families, expected of them and without reward. Hell for them was sewed into their blood and they couldn’t do anything about it just obey the law set upon them by the iron chain in their veins. 

Her movement unsettled him, afraid of losing her warmth, calmness now in disarray in his heart. She moved away, just slightly but enough that they could see into each other's eyes and there was uncommon indecision in her stare, and then she moved again.

The first touch of her lips was hesitant, almost shy and maybe it was all the alcohol playing with his brain, Aegon oftentimes blabbered with his drunk mouth about beautiful dreams of even more beautiful ladies before Aemond woke him up to get him home. But if it was a dream, he hoped it would last a lifetime before he himself had to be awoken.

It was soft, almost innocent. Her lips just gently touched his before courage overtook her and something hungry awoke in him. What was once a gentle embrace soon turned into a violent clash, their mouths fighting against each other, devouring more and more of the other person. There was no stopping now, any kind of will of holding themselves back was gone forever. They stepped over the line, now open for crossing.

Her hand gripped his forearm urging him closer, each kiss more hungry, igniting something within him. Soon a soft skin met his neck, gripping the hair at the base and tugging. In that moment his legs almost gave up on him, the overwhelming feeling consuming him completely, his mind, his body and his soul. 

That's how life should be, he thought, being drunk and kissing a pretty girl, kissing her.

Her warmth suddenly left him and the young Targaryen had no desire to open his eyes, too afraid of the dream ending. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed he would never wake up, she would never leave and her touch on his skin would be still present.

Another soft kiss tore him up from that fantasy, this time on his cheek and what he saw was a vision he never wished to forget. Her cheeks were red, hair a complete mess, absolutely breathless, trying to calm down but still the most beautiful person he has ever met. Pupils blown wide moving across his face, her smile reached her eyes and her whole face was bright.

“I have to go.” He did not like those words. No, there was no ending to it now, they were meant to kiss forever until both of them suffocated, unable to leave the presence of the other.

“No.” His voice was hoarse but the implication of his words seemed too stern for his fogged brain. 

“My taxi is here.” Her hand moved, pointing to the yellow car parked and waiting for the next passenger. The smile she gave him was reassuring, lulling him back to the foggy fantasy of kissing her again. 

“Oh.” 

He watched her wave goodbye to a few people, leaving in their own cars or by other taxis, he himself should get moving, find his brother and leave too. However, he could not move, his body rigidly straightened, neck craning to catch a few last more glimpses of the car she left in. 

And even with her once again gone, Aemond’s mind was dizzy and belly full of butterflies.

“Awww, you smooched the girl.” His brother giggled from the coach, his form morphing into the soft cushions, with one of his sweaty hands grasping for the bottle set on the coffee table. While his brother was occupying the coach, his oldest cousin took the armchair next to it, spreaded out just like Aegon. Luke, the younger cousin of his, was meanwhile seated next to his brother but on the ground with his back to the armchair, with one cushion stuffed under him, functioning like a seat.

All of them were in some state of disarray, of course his brother the most. Aegon’s tie was missing, just like his suit jacket and one of his shoes. If he knew one of his feet was bare, not counting the dirty sock still stuck on it, he did not let it be known by anyone. The white shirt he wore was sticking to his skin and some of the buttons were undone throughout the night, Aemond could see the tiny stain on his right wrist. White wine or whiskey, he wasn't sure. Compared to him both of Jace’s shoes were present, his hair a complete mess just like Aemond’s, and while he took off his own suit jacket it was apparent that tomorrow won’t be pleasant for his head. The most kept of them was young Luke presumably because Jace did not let him drink more than a flute of champagne through the dinner and a few sips of the wine served at the event.  

“You didn’t have to call them here.” Aemond waved his hand to their cousins. His older brother decided to end his night with a big sweet treat as a finale, Aemond’s humiliation. It took him one text, snap exactly, to their cousin Jace and they were all here, in Aemond’s apartment. At least Baela and her sister went out for more drinks and were not present, plus Heleana already left because she felt too tired, bless her heart.

“Oh, come on.” Aegon was enjoying it all, the panicked expression of his brother, the utter confusion of their cousins and most of all, the drink he was finishing. “Take this as a…,” his arms motioned into the open living room, searching for the correct words,“family bonding experience, eh?” His brother’s face was once again graced by a cheeky smirk. Once more Aemond felt like a joke, as a tired, drunk joke but he knew if he decided to go to bed, sleep would not overcome him, only panic would.

“So… How did it happen?” Young Luke piped up, his ears turning a light shade of pink. At least Aemond was not the only one embarrassed by the conversation.

“Well-, I-I kissed her?” Shrugging his shoulders, Aemond tried to act as if talking about it was not bothering him at all, as if it was another normal conversation.

“That sounded more like a question, mate.” This time it was Jace who spoke up, not giving Aemond even a glance, occupied by his phone, possibly texting Baela, while still part of the conversation.

“We… kissed…” He was at a loss of words, how does he describe it…. It wasn’t like this was Aemond’s first kiss, far from that. There were some girls in school when he was younger, few relationships, notably with Alys, that one had a nasty end. “And… so- like…,” The whole conversation was not only irritating his nerves and his brain but his eye, the old scar pulsing under the pressure of the talk and even the fake eye.

Fuck. I need to get it out.

Aemond was still uncomfortable with taking his fake eye out in front of… well basically anyone and while he could go search for the eyepatch he wore instead of the artificially created prosthetic, his nerves did not allow him to move.

His silence was not taken lightly by the men in his living room, each of them racking their brains as to why someone like him was unable to describe what happened.

“But it was like…” Jace nodded his head, trying to indicate the words without saying them,” y’know… consensual?” At this Aemond’s pacing stopped, it all happened too fast. Did HE kiss her first? He definitely didn’t have enough courage to kiss her first, did he? Maybe the alcohol, maybe she… 

“I… think so?” Memories in Aemond’s head started to swim, prompted by an anxious feeling setting in his chest, messing up his perception of the events or maybe it was the alcohol…

“Okay…” He did not like this reaction from his brother one bit, nerves one level higher and he might definitely explode. The whole room was slowly but surely getting influenced by his own nerves in the end not helping him ease his mind at all, more like provoking him to descend to madness more and more.

“So that kiss was like… alright, eh?” Aegon’s unsure face was also not helping his nervous mind.

“Eh…” He did not like this sound, he himself did not know where it came from but the tone prompted everyone to silently pounder for a few seconds before they arrived at their separate conclusions.

All eyes turned to his tall frame, mouths slowly opening. “Don’t.” He tried to shut them down promptly, hand raised at them once again, especially if their conclusion was that he was a bad kisser.

“But what if she actually doesn’t like you?” Aegon’s words cause them to think again while Aemond pointed his finger at him, fuming and ready to slap his brother over the head.

“Wait a second…” He tried to gain footing in the conversation but it was a losing battle. “I am just saying that-” This time Aemond was sure to swat his hand toward his brother, meters away, meant to not cause any harm but to at least scare him a bit.

“Hold on,-” Luke was unsuccessfully trying to defuse the situation, getting this conversation might have been going the wrong route.

“He did not mean it like that!” Jace too tried to intercede the whole ordeal but just like his younger brother completely unsuccessful.

“Yeah and how the FUCK did he mean it then!?” Aemond’s nerves finally gave up, letting out his fury. 

“Calm DOWN!” The armchair under Jace screeched after he pushed it in an attempt to stand up, ending up back in it after losing his balance.

“He WAS JUST SAYIN-” It was Luke’s turn to get up or it was simply prompted by his brother moving his back support. 

“I DON’T CARE!” His throat felt tight, scratched from the volume of his voice. He knew he was losing it but he could not stop.

The words took everyone by surprise. They were used to some mean and angry words from Aemond, he was antisocial on his better days and if pushed far enough he would get cruel in some fucked up way to hide himself from the world. However, to see him bubble over, to let himself scream so unapologetically… this was the first time for any of them to witness, even Aegon got quiet.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” It came out more like a whisper, an involuntary sound escaped him and Aemond was finally ready to collapse, to throw it all out of the window, lose it completely and most embarrassingly ready to cry in front of them.

“I mean, maybe she likes y-” Aegon’s voice piped from his right, still on the coach he was subtly hiding behind his now empty beer bottle.

“YOU said that MAYBE SHE DOESN’T LIKE ME!” 

“I am sure she likes you.”

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?”

“WELL, I WAS NOT THERE!” 

But this time Aegon was down to yelling it out along with his brother, the alcohol or just his rude nature supporting him in the decision. The screaming match went on for quite some time, Luke and Jace slowly joining, the living room becoming louder and louder, Aemond’s downstairs neighbors were sure to call the police any minute now. At the end none of them knew how the screaming match started, who argued with what or what they were arguing about, the alcohol dulling their sense of reason.

“Why are you all yelling?!” Baela’s agitated voice sounded from the front door, she was still in her coat while Rhaena had her shoes already off.

And then inferno began once more, voices shouting over each other in a chaotic symphony.

“RHEANA!”

“BAELA! YOU WON’T BEL-!”

“WHAT IF SHE DOESN’T LIKE M-!”

“YO AEMOND KISSED -!”

For a moment they all quieted down, catching their breath, bodies heaving and faces reddened, fingers still pointed at each other. “What?” Rheana asked, turning her gaze to her sister in a confused manner. Baela instead looked unamused partly because she got used to such banter from the younger two men.

“DRINKS!”

All heads turned to Aegon whose attention was now preoccupied by the plastic bag dangling from Baela’s hand. She lifted her hand, dangling it in front of his face as some sort of bait. And while the girls lured Aegon into the kitchen with the bad set down on the kitchen counter, Aemond felt like crying. Crying like when he was a little kid, unable to escape his doom.

Bottles clicked against each other aggravating Aemond even more. His anxiety was spiking up, dizziness almost overcoming him. This could only result in another screaming match between all of them until he would give up and tell them to fuck out of his apartment, Aegon included, even if he had been sleeping on his coach for the last 2 months.

Speaking of which, his brother was once again attempting to open a new bottle of beer while the girls finally sat on the coach previously occupied solely by him. “Thanks for the keys.” Rheana’s outstretched arm was handing him his keys but Aemond felt drained of all energy. Instead of taking them he motioned for her to throw them, catching them with ease. The iron keys to his apartment comfortably cold from the outside night air, grounding him in his own body. He was fine, in his living room, in his apartment… and he was fine.

“So…,” Rheana could feel his uneasiness prompting her to tune down the volume of her voice to a soft mumble, almost whispering, “what was all of this about?” 

“He kissed the girl,” Aegon shared on the behalf of his brother. Aemond was not sure if it was for his own sakes or if he simply wanted to be the one to break the news once again.

“The girl?” Her eyebrows raised, Baela motioned with a light smirk to Jace to continue, to indulge her curiosity. And he would of course indulge her as always. “Yeah.” 

“Wait… what girl?” Her sister spoke up, this time louder while another cheeky smile played on Baela’s face, giggling like a schoolgirl ready to receive another juicy rumor.

So Aemond recounted the story one more time, this time properly with some actual details. They talked, shared some personal stuff, and when it came to saying goodbye she kissed him before leaving in a taxi. He made sure to leave out the details of his knees buckling every time she had touched him or the fact he could still smell her shampoo and was still thinking about her eyes, lips, everything.

“Well, she is the girl.” Baela whispered mischievously, her elbow assaulting her sister’s side before the mischief in her face turned into another loud laughter. Rheana giggles had continued to sound throughout the room, waking him up again.

“Yeah?” Confused grimace overtook Luke’s face, his whole face scrunched in confusion. “So?” With a nod Aemond tried to urge the girls to continue, almost not breathing over what might come out of their mouths. There was hope for his doing and where was hope was also disappointment.

“I can guarantee you she knows that she is THE girl” Rhaena laughed even more. “I mean SHE kissed him!” Aegon gave Aemond a pointed look which turned into a cheeky grin before a hysterical laughter overcame him, realizing they truly might have been overthinking the whole situation. The bottle of beer he was holding up to his mouth for a not sip shaking violently, spilling some of its content out on his shirt, adding to the mess of him.

 “Honestly, guys… I don’t know what you are all debating over” The sisters bumped their shoulders, giggling like little girls, excited over the information. “She obviously likes him.” And even more loud giggles followed, Aegon gradually joining in with his screeching laugh, not holding back.

“Shit.” Faint murmur left his lips. Realization setting in, he might have kissed her but she was definitely the first one to make a move.

This was one of the worst and best nights in his life.

[noisycowboyglitter]

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[standbyric]

[PART I]

00: Mask Off 2016

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Female!Driver OC x Pierre Gasly Premise: Formula One, Female Racing Driver Rating: 18+; Mature themes (explicit language, death, trauma innuendos, motorsport accident, mentions of sex) Timeline: Back and forth Word Count: 1.7k

“AWESOME, fantastic drive there, Z. Congratulations, that’s P1. Now you’ve put a sock up their mouths. You did a solid drive; if they complain, it’s easy to tell who are the stupid ones. Well done! I am very proud of you!”

Zea couldn’t help but chuckle. After her disastrous qualifying, the team had been distraught, stating to the press that she couldn’t get a grip on the track; it might be all the nerve on the new components following the new season regulations. But she managed to make a solid comeback from P17 to finish P1.

“Thanks, Alby. Thank you for trusting me.”

“That was insane, Z. I can’t believe you just did that!” Marqués Abrego, her race engineer, shouted over the radio.

“Nah, it was all us, Marq. Thank you for being my ‘guy in the chair’; I couldn’t have done it without the entire team watching my back.”

“You were the one who delivered justice to the car, girl; appreciate yourself a little! Oh, right. P1. Once you enter the pit lane, you will park Ace in the middle for P1. Congratulations again. Couldn’t ask for a more splendid season opening. Excellent job.”

“Zea! You rock! Congratulations on your maiden win!” Jacqui Shabat, Will Stevens’ race engineer, chimed in. He sounded ecstatic. But who could blame him? Even Zea had difficulty containing her joy. With Will, her teammate, settling at P9, that was a great point harvest for Audi.

Her cool-down lap was complete, and Zea parked her car nicely at the P1 placard upon entering the pit lane.

Immediately after doing her usual swift leap to oust herself from the cockpit, sliding open her helmet and balaclava—giving her head a little shake left and right—and letting her hair fall through nicely behind her, she roared her euphoria along with Irza, who was standing across the barrier. The two siblings exchanged their intricate handshake before Irza brought their temples together and gave her a light peck on the head. He was brimming with thrill.

“That’s my baby! I’m so proud of you!”

The TV crew ate this up, putting it on the big screen for everyone’s consumption.

“Oh, there they go! We’ve been assuming they’re a couple for a while now, and from the looks of this victory celebration, I have to say we might be on the right track after all!”

Zea snickered behind her mask, hearing the ever-so-wrong assumption about her and Irza. But, whatever. She’d give them points for at least being consistent. It had been amusing, and besides, she couldn’t wait for the truth to slap that commentary right in the balls. She had promised Alby at the beginning of the season that she’d finally cast away her mask and do a face reveal if she won a Prix.

She stifled her chuckle as she touched the black mask covering her face. She’d been hiding her face since her GP2 days, saying she didn’t fancy the attention as an excuse. Hey, no rules were broken anyway. Her mother then procured her inner fireproofs to feature a fitted face mask. Well, thank you, dear mother, but today was the day she’d finally say goodbye to the mask.

Zea broke off Irza’s hug as she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Felipe Massa. The fellow Brazilian had darted his way from the middle of the pack to congratulate her first win. “Thanks, mate. See you in a bit,” she said as she returned his fist bump and left for the podium.

Behind was Daniel Ricciardo, who had secured 4th place, just one position outside the podium, glancing over the big screen. He did not expect the intimate display on the screen to hurl something inside him, but it did. He thought it could have been Martin Brundle’s comment on the nature of the two young guns’ relationship that irked him. Then again, he decided it was most definitely just jealousy over her winning his home race and celebrating with her lover. Yep, he wasn’t going to be the jackass who won’t admit his competitive side got the better of him. In his defence, she was a damn good driver. Damn good. 

It was the festivity, the loud cheer, and the Aussies being a good sport about the podium members. Zeahire Sinaga had triumphed over the usual podium sitters duo from Mercedes—Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg—both favourite contenders for the season’s World Driver Champion title. Something about the warm sun and the air around the Albert Park circuit had managed to tone down Daniel’s impeding adrenaline—

“—Let me say, Wow! Yes! Listen to that cheer!”

Mark Webber sounded exceptionally astonished, followed by the roaring ‘whoa’ from the crowd. That was enough for Daniel to bring his attention back to the big screen after finishing his mandatory post-race weigh-in and parc fermé.

“Who would’ve guessed such a beauty has been hiding behind that mask this whole time?!”

Zea gave a playful shrug, plastering a cheeky smile that Daniel swore had an almost vividly readable sign that said I-know-right?

But yeah, Daniel had to nod in agreement with Mark; he had to admit that smile was mesmerising. However, it didn’t come as too much of a surprise to him.

Just last season, he’d suppose the Audi garage was at the back of the paddock, far from the Red Bulls. Not many chances for encounter, and yet, every time he’d run into her, he’d almost always found himself getting caught in her blue eyes, even from afar. 

“So…so what’s the story here? Why today?”

“The face reveal, you mean?” Daniel watched attentively as Zea took the mic that Mark handed to her.

“Well, Alby has been urging me to do it this season. Like, this whole bad publicity overtone has been making him concerned? But I told him I’d only do it if I finished P1… how the hell was I supposed to know it’s gonna be Australia?! The Season-Opening?!”

Daniel chuckled. Her bold choices of words for live broadcasts hadn’t changed; it made him recall Sochi 2014 when her Marussia teammate had retired from suspension problems, leaving the team to rely on her for points. She had taken over the remaining four races of the season after the late Jules Bianchi’s horrible accident in Suzuka. 

“He was more than capable of doing this,” Zea had said while pointing to the JB17 sticker on her helmet, paying her respect to the late Frenchman. 

“Could you have squeezed a podium there?” Will Buxton questioned her.

She sighed. “Look, I really wanna lie and say yes, but I’d have to be a war hero or something in my past life to have the luck to beat Hamilton, Rosberg, Bottas. We’ve outscored ourselves with P4. Really.”

“Oh, look at that. Humility.”

“No, I’m just stating facts. Zero probability of me winning in that car anyway; I haven’t got the pace. So I’m more than delighted to finish and score points at all—hell, this might be pure luck for all we know,” she exhaled her fatigue harshly.

“The car was—“ she had paused, reluctant to say anything, before the Marussia F1 mechanics and engineers gave her encouraging nods and hand gestures for her to carry on, “the car was shit; it was fuckin’ impossible to drive,” and Daniel recalled how much he was caught off guard upon hearing that from across the media pen. Whoa, nice choice of vocab.

“But no blame there; the team only had so much time to settle me in. I don’t know how much of the radio was broadcasted, but by the time we did the cool-down lap, the car was like, literally making noises I’m a hundred per cent sure no Formula One car is supposed to make? I thought the car would start disintegrating at some point; I was scared shitless. Okay. Maybe I watched too much Transformer.”

Will Buxton broke into laughter, amused at how she had practically spit bars for her reply, but what Daniel remembered the most was Kimi Räikkönen, who had chuckled along and said, “She has a good head on her.”

Well, Daniel reckoned Kimi had always been a good judge of character.

“It’s just—there’s been a lot of interesting conspiracy theories going around; but it’s gotten much worse at the start of the season, like, they’ve been saying I’m actually five different people! You should totally check Youtube—No, it’s real,” she playfully tapped Mark Webber’s shoulder when the former nine-time Grand Prix winner started laughing. “They even compiled videos of me walking and doing other stuff and compared them.”

See? Look at her. Outspoken, engaging, amiable…a beauty. Kimi judged right.

“But I am so sorry, guys,” Zea gave an amusingly disappointed look to the crowd, “Sorry to disappoint everyone, but I’m just…me.”

Maybe it was the way she talked? Or was it the way her expression turned animated every time she spoke? Daniel couldn’t really tell.

“I don’t… ‘mitose’ into five different people.”

Oh, and a sense of humour.

“Okay, to be fair, I definitely did… ‘mitose’ once before birth. ‘Cause, like, I do have a twin brother.”

Wait, what?!

“Yes! The charming gentleman who’s always around me! He gave me a big hug just now.”

“Oh my God!” Mark exclaimed as the big screen panned towards Irza, and the crowd of male pheromones cheered in excitement, quite possibly on the prospect of her being single. Or was it for Irza?

“Not my boyfriend, definitely not my boyfriend—eww. He’s very available, so ladies, or gentlemen, by all means, go ahead,” Zea switched her head back to Mark, “but that’s it—my only mitosis. I hope it clears everything so Alby can finally have peace of mind. Come on; I pity the old man.”

Daniel couldn’t even fathom the thrill suddenly rising from his gut, nor how the bitter aftertaste he had felt upon finishing P4 had abruptly vanished. 

All he knew was that her first sentence would live rent-free in his mind.

Why?

He’d thought maybe right now wasn’t the best time to figure that out. After all, they’ve got the entire season to do that. Right?

Masterlist [I] Chapter 01 ➡️

COMING SOON. Muhahaha.

__________ Aye. This is my debut formula one fic...so please be nice 🥹 Reblog is always appreciated! ✨manifesting my eagerness to update this series regularly✨

____________

Tag list:

@scotlynaurora

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 10

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon, pillow humping.

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: It’s Monday, ugh.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your curiosity got the best of you, more so your restlessness. 

After your ride with Lee, you couldn’t settle down. You gave up on sleep, late nights not unknown to any student. You flicked on your desk lamp and sat on the chair with a blanket around your shoulders and read a few passages before that peculiar twang made you put down the book.

The flagrant language of the lewd acts made your core hot and you longed for any touch to stoke it. You fidgeted and picked the book up again. Just one chapter… Lee was right, you were learning. You pushed the blanket away as you felt yourself sweating and you recalled that night with the sheriff, his leg firmly between both of yours.

You shut the book again and flicked off the light. You had a few more hours before you had to get ready for class. You needed some semblance of sleep to function and you knew another long night awaited you.

You sprawled out on your thin mattress and sighed. You closed your eyes and tried to drift off, tried to forget the lurid excerpts that kept popping back into your mind. You rolled onto your side then the other. You gripped your head and squeezed your eyelids closed. Just sleep.

You brought a pillow down and hugged it as you tried to get comfortable. The corner rubbed along your panties and a ripple tore through your core. You mumbled nonsensically and ignored the urge tugging at you. You couldn’t…

You pushed the pillow down and clenched it between your legs. You started slowly, carefully building the pressure as you hugged it tighter and tighter. Your breath caught and soon you were panting desperately as you chased that strange plucking deep inside.

You got up on your knees and kept the pillow sideways beneath you and straddled it. You rocked your hips as the wooden frame creaked with each move and you smother your voice with your palm. 

You bit down on the heel of your hand as you hung your head back and became the woman in the novel. You imagined a man beneath you, faceless, nameless, and the mountain rose before you. Almost there, just a little more--

You gritted your teeth as you came and slowed, nails sinking into the pillow as you shook and stifled the weak moans. You fell back onto your side, the pillow caught between your legs and let your arm hang over the edge of the bed. Breathless, you felt the heavy drowsiness setting in. You drifted off before the guilt could set in.

📚

The club meeting came to an end but you hardly kept up with any of the discussion. You couldn’t help but think of the last time you saw Lee and everything that came after. You didn’t know what you’d been thinking, why you did what you did. Curiosity, mostly as you tried to recreate that same feeling you got on the sheriff’s lap.

You didn’t realise your weekly session was over until the chairs scraped and bodies began to move. You stood and your purse fell over as you did. You bent to pick up your bag and scoop up the mess that spilled onto the floor. Another knelt across from you and snatch the red-spined book from amid the pile.

Andre held up the explicit novel and looked it over with a chuckle, “so this is what you like to read?”

“Hey,” you snatched it away and shoved it into your purse and stood, “no, I…”

You shrugged and dragged the chair back to the desk and shoved it beneath. You turned back to him as he watched you. You surpassed him as you headed for the door and heard him follow. Your skin was on fire with embarrassment.

“You know, it’s not really literature but it’s… expression nonetheless. I think it’s good that themes like that are being explored in writing--”

“It’s trash, I’m taking it to the donation bin,” you lied as you came out into the warm summer evening.

“Oh,” he said without conviction, “that’s too bad. You must be one of those prudish girls, then. I always thought so with the way you dress.”

“What?” you glanced over at him as he kept pace with you. You searched around for the cruiser but you only saw your fellow club members and the beaten up lemons they drove.

“Well, you’re not exactly pushing the envelope,” he intoned, “I don’t see you at any parties, either--”

“What does it matter?” you kicked a rock as you continued down the sidewalk. You kept your eyes peeled for Lee but you assumed he was waiting back at your residence as usual.

“Oh, I was just thinking you might want to come to one,” he suggested, “you know, loosen up a bit.”

“A party?” you asked as you turned onto Greek row, “I don’t know… I have plans and--”

“You have plans,” he scoffed, “are you that shy or that stupid?”

You were quiet as you didn’t know how to answer. Both, probably, you thought, but sniffed and kept on.

“I’m asking you out,” he said as you reached the corner of your street, “you know, maybe you can do more than read about fucking.”

“Excuse me?” you stopped short and turned on him, “I’m not lying. I have somewhere I’m supposed to be and-- and-- maybe I’m not interested in going out with you. You’re mean.”

His brows shot up and he tilted his head and laughed, “you’re such a precocious little thing, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, “but you should get out of here before--”

The siren whooped and you cringed. You heard the slow roll of tires as they drew up and the engine clicked into park. The door opened as Andre scowled past you and rolled his eyes. You stepped aside and looked over at Lee as he placed his hat on his head.

“What are y’all up to, tonight, huh?” he asked with half a smirk.

“Just talking,” Andre spat, “some bodunk cop like you can surely understand that.”

“Scuse me, boy?” Lee’s hand went to his belt, just beside his gun, “is that how they teach you college kids to talk to authority?”

“It’s how I talk to pigs when they oink at me,” Andre rebuffed, “now I was just having a discussion with this young woman--”

“Now don’t be uppity with me, boy, you out here making a public nuisance,” the sheriff stepped up on the curb.

“We were just talking, really,” you said quietly, “I was just saying goodbye.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Andre dismissed him with a wave and turned back to you, “well, why don’t you just cancel and come up to Delt--”

You gasped as Andre was hauled off his feet and spun against the side of the cruiser. Lee twisted his arm back and bent him over the hood as he reached for his cuffs.

“What are you--”

“You saw that, girl,” Lee snarled, “he swung at me. That would be attempting an assault on an officer of the law.”

“Ummm,” you blinked and clutched your purse, “I don’t…”

“That’s an arrestable offence,” Lee snapped a cuff around Andre’s wrist as he struggled, “don’t look good on your record, neither. Think the dean will stand for it?”

“Get off of me!” Andre sneered, “I didn’t do anything--”

“You sure did,” Lee growled, “out here harassing young ladies and disrespecting an officer.”

“You’re insane,” Andre’s tried to pull away as the other cuff closed, “don’t you have anything better--”

“Honey, get in the car,” Lee ordered as he wrenched Andre up then slammed his face back down against the hood with a sickening crunch, “I don’t want you to see this.”

“Lee--” you said weakly, “please--”

“You know… this pig…” Andre huffed in a nasally voice.

“Y’aint talk to her, pretty boy,” Lee warned, “or I’ll break your teeth.”

“You’re--”

“Shhhh,” Lee hushed him and glanced over his shoulder at you, “now honey pie, get in the front seat. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

You swallowed and cautiously went to the front door. You slid across the leather seat and closed the door. You heard them arguing before the back door opened and Andre was shoved inside, barely missing his head as he did. You peeked back at him as he horked up blood onto the floor.

The door slammed behind him and Lee got in on his side. He pushed into gear and took off from the curb with the squeal of tires. He glared in the mirror than looked over at you as his expression softened.

“Not exactly how I wanted the night to go but we drop him at the station real quick then we can have some fun, huh?” he smiled.

“You’re dating this creep?” Andre snorted from the back seat.

“Boy, you shut your mouth,” Lee barked at the rear view, “I ain’t tell ya again not to talk to the lady.”

Andre snickered darkly and shook his head as he hung it. He leaned against his cuffed hands and shifted.

“Fine, take me to the station,” he said blithely, “my father will have me out on the hour. Bail in these parts can’t be more than a penny.”

“Oh,” Lee sneered at the road as he drove through campus, “is that so?”

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Teddy

Notes: This is my entry for @pagesoflauren Prompts:

So, this is love” from “So This is Love” by Ilene Woods and Mike Douglas from Cinderella

“Um, you...you fight good.” from Mulan

“This reminded me of you.”

Warnings: 18 +Only, dark themes, Dubious consent due to alcohol consumption, drunken sex, fingering, out door sex

Summary: a corporate event turns into hazy regret

Dark(maybe more grey) CEO Steve x Reader

🐻

Why they decided to hold a corporate event in the middle of the work week was beyond you. But you could only blame yourself for the alcohol consumption you partook in. Your head and body ached. You had taken a few aspirin before getting to work, but it didn't sooth the pains rippling through your body. Last night was a fog that you could barely piece together, but you weren't worried. You had made it home safe and your office mates had not blown up your phone with anything salacious.

You frowned at the continuous slowed traffic at your cubical when you approached. When you spotted the source you were surprised. A sweet little box with an oversized bow sat on top of your keyboard with a tiny little note. Your coworkers all past your station giggling amongst themselves as they spied it. You felt the heat of all the attention permeate your face as you rushed to stash it away.

Taking your seat before your monitor you hid the parcel. You waited patiently until you felt no one was paying you any mind. Had someone miss placed this? Curious you read the note. “This reminded me of you.” Flipping it over no name.

You untie the bow and opened it carefully.

"Did you like it?" Steve's sudden voice made you bristle.

You fumble with the box, dropping it, spilling the contents as he leaned on your cubical wall.

"Um sorry?" you looked at him confused.

"I was thinking of getting rid of this thing, but now"

he scratched at his beard as you wrinkled your brow at him. His name was called before he could clarify his point. The distraction pulled him away, but not before he shot you a sly wink.

That was strange.

With him away you reached down to pick up the fallen gift. You rose slowly lifting a new coffee mug, turning it you see a yellow cartoon teddy bear smiling at you.

Your eyes grew round as a flood of memories drowned you. Flashes of the night before filled in gaps you had brushed off until now.

🐻

The night before

You were an expert at avoiding company events, but when the email read mandatory you groaned. The biannual event was a must for all employees foreign and domestic.

You didn't hate your company, you actually loved it. Everyone was friendly, it was a stark contrast to the cut throat companies you were used to. It was just that social events made you feel painfully awkward.

The venue was massive. Every odd person asked which office you worked in and what department you belonged to. You smiled and made short talk as you searched for a place to hide until the event was over. It was very draining, being an introvert you could only handle so much social interaction.

The corporate sponsored libations helped get you through the most part. Snatching a drink from every waiter that passed with a tray. It was an easy, trick gulp down the glass then motion to the empty cup before departing the group signaling you are going to find more. An easy out that had you buzzed, but you felt as though you were holding together well. When you found your hiding spot you breathed easier, taking the seat hidden behind a column, you played with your phone until the event whined down.

"Hey your in accounting right?"

You looked up from the phone to find John Walker. He smiled softly, slipping into the empty seat next to you. "Oh no, sorry.."

"Why are you hiding away by yourself?" He cut you off. You reached for your half empty flute and took a big gulp. Swallowing it down before tapping the glass, signaling your exit just as he began to crowd you into the corner space.

"How do you like it here?" He asked you another question stifling your exit. You could feel his breath on your face as you tried to lean away, but his arm stretched out pulling you closer.

A yelp escaped your lips when his other hand found your thigh. You don't want to cause a scene, but you want him to give you space. Your hiding space was too good. No one noticed or cared that you were trapped by a fellow colleague. "I need to-"

John pulled you down when you tried to stand and excuse yourself. "Hey" the scent of his drink finally hit your nose. "You cant leave before we cheers." His grip on you felt so firm that you worried if you upset him, his smile seemed strained and his eyes roamed you uncomfortably. John suddenly lifted the hand from your shoulder and snapped his fingers in the air, signaling a server to bring more drinks to the table. "One more drink huh? Bad luck not to cheers with everyone you know?"

You gripped your phone so hard you felt it imprint on your palm. You just wanted to go home. When the serve dropped the glasses John pushed one at you. To appease him you took it. Maybe he would leave after this. He raised his glass and you did the same. "To a fruitful quarter."

You murmured and repeated him. The glasses clinked before you both took a drink. This drink hit you harder than before, but you chugged it down anyway.

When John finished his glass he cloaked you. His eyes filled with a hunger that had you leaning further back into the back of your chair. He kept coming so close no matter how you shifted in your seat to gain distance. "Please I need to go home" you begged as he roamed up your skirt.

When his eyes bulged you were confused before you felt relief. John fell away from you, hitting the floor hard as a hulk of a man appeared standing over him. John did not appreciate it, hopping to his feet. You tried to stand yourself, but the room spun and swayed with such force you fell back on your seat. John and your savior blurred as you try to focus. You squinted as John pushed back on the stranger only to find his chin connecting with a right hook. His body fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes as you watched everything in slow motion.

It was so surreal seeing John laid out. You looked up to see the founder standing above him. Steve Rogers was the man behind the knockout punch. You snorted, laughing loudly at the ridiculousness. There was no way you saw that correctly.

He turned his attention to you, mouthing words at you, but you couldn't understand them. People began to crowd around John and your table. You were becoming the center of attention and that filled you with an urge to escape.

"I want to go home." You whimpered lowly, as you found it hard to move with so many people around. You reached your limit, there were too many eyes, too many voices, you felt trapped yet again.

"Where do you live?" His voice cut through everyone else. It sounded so concerned yet sweet it set you at ease. You slurred out the destination as he helped you up from the seat.

He felt so warm, firm and safe that you couldn't help, but cuddle into his side as he guided you out.

Your eyes started to feel heavy as your body floated along. “Um, you...you fight good.” you blurted out making him chuckle. "Thank you" you slurred out the complement. Your yawn muffled his response as your eyes closed and you slipped into sleep.

🐻

Your head lolled on the back of the leather seat as a chill nipped at your body. "It's too cold" you groaned missing the warmth that sent you to slumber.

"I miss warm" you whined tilting your head to the side, squinting at the blurry blob that resembled the sun. You reached out to find the source of warmth, but got jerked back by a restraint, you grumbled and frowned when you found a seat belt.

"Hey sleepy head." It sounded like Mr.Rogers. You had heard his voice many times over many corporate calls and monthly meetings, but that was preposterous. There was no way the high powered CEO was talking to you.

"Give me warm" you whined again, your eyes still heavy as you tried to focus on their face. You attempted once more to reach your hand out, this time your finger tips clumsily grazed over a nose before trailing up to gelled hair. "Oop. Watch it you almost blinded me there." He laughed lightly as the car swerved a bit. "Ok ok settled down I'll turn on the AC." The click and whoosh of the heater elevated the chill a bit.

"Sorry I run a little hot. Does this help?"

You hummed with delight as a warm hand reached out to glide up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. Your fingers played in the sleeked geld locks. Your thighs absorb the warmth of his hand as he kneaded your skin.

"You have arrived at your destination" the robotic voice announced.

"Yay!" Clapping your hands together ready to go to bed.

"Don't like parties huh?"

"I like home better." You yawned still very tired.

"Yeah me too" he agreed as the warm hand in your lap left. You whimpered in disappointment as a car door opened and closed. You stayed lazy sat in place too tired to move, closing your eyes welcoming sleep once again.

"Come on let's get you home." He grunted as he reached over you, waking you slightly. The smell of his cologne filled your nose as you heard the distinct click of your seat belt and feel of the strap slide away.

"Who are you?" You genuinely inquired.

He pulled you from the seat and stood you up against the car. Your body sagged, but he kept you standing. "Don't remember me, huh?" He huffed dragging you out. "Steve. Steve Rogers." He told you as he tried to keep you steady while closing the door.

"Your face is soo fluffy" you giggled as you grabbed at his beard. "No! Your not Steve! Your teddy" you dubbed shouting at him, cupping his face as you brought him closer. "You feel so good teddy."

"You think so?" Steve chuckled excepting his new nickname.

Stepping closer he pressed his weight on you and chuckled, boxing you between him and the car. "Fluffy teddy bear man" you giggled again as his cologne once again invaded your nose.

"You smell good too" you confessed as he leaned closer. His lips tilted into a devilish grin as you leaned forward to inhale along his neck. His strong hands held your hips before squeezing when you licked at him. "Tasted good too."

"Bad girl." Steve admonished leaning away from you. "Bad teddy" you frowned, pulling him closer by his blazer. "Keep me warm teddy." You pouted.

"Like that?" Steve questioned as his palms slipped down your waist then road up your thigh. You gasped when he ascended up and under your skirt. You nodded 'yes' allowing his brazened hand to slip into your panties, cupping your mound. The car rocked a bit as he leaned all his weight on you, sinking into you. His bristly beard hairs tickled your neck as you panted wildly into the cold air.

"Do you like how I make you feel?" Steve asked trailing up and over your lips. You moan a 'yes' into his mouth while you pushed into his palm urging him on.

Steve tried to pull his hand from you, but you squeezed your thighs together, not allowing him to retreat. "No teddy don't leave" you begged pouting. Steve smiled at the nickname while plunging deep in your core, curling his digits inside of you.

Your skirt road high off your ass and you felt the chill of the door on your exposed cheeks. You didn't care, you just wanted more. Lifting your leg Steve hooked it around his waist. "I love you teddy" you proclaimed drunk off his touch.

"Oh yeah" he growled in your ear, sending fire down your neck as he kissed you all over. You felt your panties pushed to the side as he pressed his sheathed need on you.

"Ummm mmm" you hummed eager for him to do more. Steve steady you with one hand while his other fumbled with the front of his pants. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your hips pushed forward. Waiting impatiently you bite your lip giving him a pleading look. "Love you so much teddy."

"So this is love?" Steve swirled his cock in your juices, teasing as he pressed hard along your eagerness. "Don't tease" you slapped at him frowning. "You want teddy to love you?" he groaned pressing his tip hard against your entrance. You nod 'yes' and hiss as his cock slowly stretched you open. You welcomed the strain while another warmth burst from your core. Your fingers tangled in his hair while Steve kissed you passionately. You panted wildly as Steve picked up speed, rutting you against the car door. "So this..." Steve stretched out each word, thrusting into you hard and deep, your slick him thoroughly. You chanted 'yes' allowing him to rut you against the car. Steve's thickness made you quiver. Despite being out in the world it felt as if you were the only two left on earth. "This is love" he sighed pushing as deep as he could go.

The warmth of him exploded all around you, melting you into him deliciously. You dissolved into him, slipping mindlessly into ecstasy.

🐻

[eternallydefile]

rules // mini bio (pinned.)

independent fandomless demon oc written by sarah - 18+ only.

please be sure to read all of my rules.

short muse bio (full bio on blog):

Defanatus the defiler. The unholy king of rot and corruption. Hell has a fixated hierarchy. A set of positions based on power; the more powerful one is, the higher their position. However, positions are fixed. Once a rank is given, it can never be changed. Power can be gained by the consumption of fellow demonic entities, but gaining status and rank was not allowed. Even then, gaining such power was seen as encroaching on Satan's rule over hell and is thus frowned upon; occasionally resulting in the demise of the demon. In Defanatus' case, that wasn't good enough. His entire role was to cause his prisoners extreme and horrific pain in the way of forcing their souls to rot and decay, ultimately consuming them afterwards. This was boring. He received no joy in torture; he hadn't in many, many years. The consumption of mortal souls gave him nothing, not even the sense of being full. He needed MORE.

Satan had more. Satan had everything-- And Defanatus wanted that. Wanted EVERYTHING. Not for the sake of having more power, but for the sake of having choices and having something else to do. He wanted to rule Hell. Over time, Defanatus began to feel emboldened, taking the lives of and feasting upon the essences of his fellow demons. Small, unnamed creatures that certainly no one would miss. But it wasn't enough and eventually, he began to draw attention to himself. This attention caused him to flee from hell, fighting for his life as he did so.

Once he found himself on the mortal realm, he found that he was in dire need of a host in order to recover from his escape. Any host would do, but the first person he encountered was a priest, a man in his mid thirties on his way to a nearby village. Overtaking him was quite easy, even for a man of God there wasn't much resistance. Defanatus was certainly weaker than the priest, as he had to fight tooth and nail to get out of Hell and cut down any of his kin that got in his way, but the element of surprise gave him the upper hand. However, this left him and his vessel fairly ragged and beaten appearing thus he needed quite a bit of rest before he ultimately found himself masquerading as a man of god.

Now Defanatus goes by FATHER CARRION and lives his life as a priest, continuing to consume his kin and gain power in order to overthrow his former king.

RULES:

Please be aware that this blog has heavy religious themes. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not follow me.

other blog triggers include body horror, general horror, blood, religion, blasphemy, and manipulation. if more become present on this blog, I will add them to this list.

I will not write with anyone under the age of 18. Nor will I follow you.

No God modding. I won't have Carrion cause your muse harm without it being discussed ooc prior, and I would appreciate the same sentiment.

Your muse will not know his demon name unless we have discussed them learning it. This is due to the fact that a demon’s name holds power and can be used to command them, which isn’t really fair if we haven’t discussed things prior.

This is going to be a fairly low activity, private blog. I have a job and suffer from a chronic illness that often times causes me to lack energy to write, so replies may be slow and selective.

There will be no smut on this blog.

Shipping will likely not happen just because Carrion can't be bothered to care about anyone romantically, however I won't take it off the table completely. The relationship would need to be with someone that Carrion feels fairly equal with.

Please please please tag any images of irl bruises or broken bones.

ABOUT THE MUN:

Hi! My name is Sarah, I'm 28 years old my pronouns are she/her! I'd like to think that I'm a pretty easy going and nice person, so please don't be afraid to approach me ooc! My discord is available to all mutuals who ask for it :)

Please like this post so I know you have read my rules! Or don’t! Whatever you’re most comfortable with :)

[snarkywrites]

Full Moon Eclipse in Sagittarius: Making Changes

The Full Moon Eclipse is on June 5th in the sign of Sagittarius which seems scary and fitting. Sagittarius is represented by the archer who enjoys seeking the truth through justice, philosophy and the law. This Gemini Season has made us see the power of words through social media. Hashtags that have brought awareness to situations. Information is being shared at lightning speed, forcing folks to read and listen. The speed that we are communicating is incredible, but it can also be a little overwhelming for many. With the shift in the nodes to Gemini and Sagittarius, the Venus, Jupiter, Saturn and Pluto Retrogrades, we have reached new levels that have allowed us to see people for who they really are. We are witnessing disagreements between family members, friends and neighbors. We are witnessing a need for social changes to be made starting with the way that the governments need to monitor the police for targeting Black people and poc. Everything is coming to light now and we all have something to say. Use your voices to make a change, to help others that do not have the privilege you may have and make sure to help those who cannot seek justice on their own.

To everyone protesting, stay safe. To those at home supporting the Black Lives Matter cause, know I appreciate you!

 Aries – You will abandon any preexisting ideologies that are no longer functioning with this tumultuous timeline. This will be a moment where you embark on your own journey for self-discovery and answers. Eclipse Seasons are usually transformative, asking us to change in ways we have avoided. Now, with Sun and Venus in Gemini Season, you will have answers. This Full Moon Eclipse in Sagittarius wants you to elevate and consider the introspective route. Although communication will have an easier flow for you this month, you might want to absorb your thoughts and think things through first.

Taurus – With this Full Moon Eclipse transit in the sign of Sagittarius, you will be brought back to analyze what you excel at, building and financing. You will want to get things prioritized this year as you shift your concerns to creating a more secure tomorrow. It will be a time where you are motivated to clear debt, invest, or just restructure how you manage your money or assets. With Jupiter currently in Capricorn, this can contribute to the impact of the Full Moon, helping you understand new methods of gains but at the same time developing practical goals to achieve. Stay grounded and focused.

Gemini – Venus and Sun are currently in your sign and this Full Moon Eclipse will be making an opposition to those signs. As you begin to rebuild yourself and show the world perceives you, you will once again go through another karmic trial. The tribulations of love and partnership will be the focus of this Lunar Eclipse in the sign of Sagittarius as you finally get the strength to let go and free yourself from some connections that felt permanent. This Full Moon presents a release and a breath of fresh air for you as you finally come to terms with what you want and who will be present in your life.

Cancer – This Full Moon Eclipse will have you working hard to get things done. Having restful periods to yourself will help you feel recharged and ready to go. The transits, the news and the world can magnify the fears and anxiety we can feel. If you feel overloaded with information, you can always take it easy. The focus now should be on being healthy and knowing your limits. On the flip side, there could be people reaching out to you with advice. Lend an ear to someone who might want to hear your advice. You have a lot to say this transit, measure your words and make sure it all comes from a good place.

Leo – You will embrace this Full Moon Eclipse transit since it is in fellow fire sign, Sagittarius. This will spark your creativity and motivate you to shine brighter than before. If it comes to taking on a social cause and leading the way, you will not be shy about taking center stage. We are all feeling the power of our emotions surge their way out during this month. It is wise for us to take a step back and understand the situation before speaking from the heart. Take it easy. Your message will be powerful, and this Full Moon will magnify it. Be wise, speak with love and make sure it comes from the heart.

Virgo – It will be a moment to understand more about the home front as you continue to battle on the work front. This Full Moon Eclipse wants you to connect with your roots and home. It will feel nostalgic for those who are not able to be with family or friends, but either way, you will find ways to be in touch through social media apps. There will be a greater appreciation for family and friends. It can feel quite lonely sometimes, but you know that they will always have your back. This opposition with the Sun will motivate you to get ahead and continue to power through. A little optimism brought by this transit and the love that others can bring in your life will give you the boost to get to the top.

Libra – You will be ready to vocalize your emotions this transit. With Gemini Season is already allowing you to express your thoughts freely and the Venus Retrograde is allowing you to learn and appreciate new ways of love. Now, with this Full Moon Eclipse in the sign of Sagittarius, this brings about an understanding and harmony with how you express yourself and what you learn. Expressing your thoughts this period will be a powerful and emotional moment for you. An awakening of past experiences as new themes are brought to the light. Your words will be curative for many and you will find solace in self expression.

Scorpio – A major focal point for you during this Full Moon Eclipse in Sagittarius will be revolving around your comfort and stability. We will all be focused regarding the safety of the world during these times. You are learning about what matters and how trivial some things you once focused on could seem. The events of the world present an eye-opening experience that will allow you to step onto the next phase of a period of growth. The maturity is also emphasized with Saturn making an aspect to your sign, grounding you and making you focused on goals and success, themes that will be enhanced for the next several weeks.

Sagittarius – The Full Moon Eclipse in your sign shows that this will be a monumental time for you for changes. So far, you have experienced transformations through the Venus Retrograde in the sign of Gemini, bringing up relationship issues from the past and present. Now that you have a sense of what you want and what you will pursue moving forward, this Eclipse will have you bringing the focus back on you. Your evolution begins as you strip parts of yourself that you no longer identify with in order to become more centered and genuine from this moment forward.

Capricorn – With this Full Moon Eclipse in the sign of Sagittarius, you will have to focus more on your well being for the next several months. You are already enduring the pressures that Saturn in Capricorn has tested you with since 2017 and now you are ready to move forward. This has been a period of maturity and growth as you head for the final rounds with Saturn before the end of the year. For now, the focus will be brought back to your safety and health. Do not overwork yourself, even when you feel that the world is on your shoulders. Remember that in order to save others, you need to do the work on you. If your body is crying for rest, listen to it. The Full Moon will help you zone in and heal.

Aquarius – You will want to be more connected with others during this Full Moon Eclipse in Sagittarius. Overall, Gemini Season has been a promising opportunity to keep in touch and reconnect with people. However, Saturn in your sign might have made you feel a little restricted, where you just might not feel like socializing with anyone. Take it easy during this time and do not feel pressured if you are not motivated to be social. Nevertheless, this transit will shed a light on how social media can impact your social circle. This month will be a time where we are overloaded with information, so finding a balance through self-care and news consumption could also be important for you this Full Moon.

Pisces – This Full Moon Eclipse clashes with your sign, bringing a focus to how you want to make your mark in the top. The year has presented a lot of challenges for you so far, as you fight to maintain a certain form of control. This Gemini Season you have also learned a lot about your home life and how the dynamic with those you live with (friends, roommates or family) impacts your life. Now with this Full Moon transit, you bring the focus back to your place in the world and how you want to get there. Creating a balanced environment within the home will allow for you to create the path for your career.

[maniacalmagician]

EVERHOOD: Pinocchio in Psychedelic Purgatory: the Rock Opera Adventure. OR: I walked backwards into hell, and felt euphoria as I became privvy to the Divine Truths

Hello tumblr people. I’ve been Away. I played a game recently and I wanted to talk about it.   damnit i really wanted to put pictures into this mini essay. ive been away from this garbage site for too long, i dont know how to do it lol.  ok anyway    First, I want to say to the developers and anyone else that this has quickly become one of my all time favorite games. Currently writing I have personally never felt a greater emotional attachment to an experience with a piece of software. Perhaps it is the extreme idiosyncratic nature of it, perhaps it is the deeply intriguing storyline, mostly however it is a combination of those in addition to some of the most outstanding psychedelic visuals I have ever seen, particularly in the finale sequence, and a killer soundtrack that combines many genres but focuses mostly to being as bangers as possible. I will be upfront and say this game comes with a boatload of trigger warnings, and thus the aforementioned idiosyncratic nature of it may not appeal to everyone, however I feel it necessary to indicate potential content warnings here as I would hate for people to be triggered: epilepsy is the big one, I myself have mild stutter based epilepsy and it didn't cause health problems or anything but my case is not universal. Anyway. That is a hard warning on epilepsy. I do it because The Incredibles 2 did not, lmao (that's an example of the kind of visuals that trigger me personally. An aside ) Other things include (spoilers): arachnophobia, misophonia (screeches, unsettling sounds), themes of death, immortality, suicide. Some game mechanics are not immediately intuitive and puzzles require some pretty clever but sometimes obtuse solutions. Direction is not always super clear either. People have complained of performance issues but I am leaving this review after playing the switch port, which played smoothly other than some awkwardly long loading times here and there. What I have played of PC so far runs smooth but as of writing, performance for me was fine (my pc is a lowend budget build). There is a difficulty to it. Even playing on easier modes, it can be quite unforgiving. If you're a fan of hard games (I am but I suck at them) and rhythm games (this is, uh, Not? That? Almost functions as half walking sim, half rhythm Game, dodgy shoot em up kinda feels. Truly unique gameplay I think. Constantly switches things up, too. But yes I also adore rhythm games, and yes i also do suck at those too.), half of it is that. The devs troll you with puzzles. It's truly a wild experience as it advertises, one of a kind. And yet, however.... This game wears, much like its heart,, its references, on its sleeve. If you are not into that kind of thing, you will probably be annoyed by this game. It also loves to delv into meta, as many puzzles and interactions are references to the UI of the game itself. Personally, I'm not wild about meta but I appreciate the ernestness here, so I'm willing to roll with whatever this game throws at me because every turn feels unexpected, fresh, funky, somber, and wildly intelligent, with boldly sincere ludonarrative choices, script and art direction. If you like Geno from super Mario Brothers, which, guess what, narrator here LOVES Geno from Super Mario Brothers, this is functionally the game you've always wanted that Nintendo could never make because Square has held Geno hostage in some kind of underground torture facility since 1995. Turns out they were rather right to do so, because when that puppet is out serving a higher authroity, he can be quite dangerous. Narrarively it borrows much from its sources but I would argue there's proof the writers have spent time thinking about the implications of their source materials worlds, and that reflection casts itself back to create this, experience that is wholly unique even if we know Red is Geno and "Gaster" (who was based on Uboa from Yume Nikki or princess mononokes forest spirits), and some kind of disco Marceline character who changes their identity frequently, skeleton brothers- well undead brothers, really - We have to remember in the creation and consumption of media sometimes, influences and archetypes are ever present and Everhood almost itself is a realm that would indulge in the idea of self referential material. It makes for this very Jungian experience of friendly archetypes we're familiar with, which works well with this setting of an immortal realm. Thats not to say the personalities we do meet aren't expounded upon - they are, heavily, and become uniquely their own. (Spoiler) if my theory is to be believed this world is a purgatory where people have made their own artificial vessels and as time has made them bored (though some seem to be having a good time) while typical strains of the Pinocchio myth are thrown in about questions of identity and death - and probably even more so towards Timothy Learys concept of the Ego Death, or the return to the collective soup of unconcious being. Undertale will probably always be a reccomendation even by its own reference to it so comparisons to it will be littered through here. It feels like the developers were emboldened by Toby Foxs spirit in game development (his creative energy is rather infectious) and shared many similar ideas, but this feels far more aimed towards a maturer audience (references to the things I mentioned in the trigger warning list) and focused on achieving this feeling that its predecesors have as well. Yume nikki. Lisa. Earthbound. Toby's games. super Mario rpg in its humor, Cat Soup in its psychedellic depressive vibes, all this cool indie cult classicy kinda mash up soup.  bizarre antics and then these characters who have surprising depth the further you go. It has been 6 years since Undertale came out, and the developers for Everhood have called a lot of the "what ifs" that fans of that game ask, an answer in their own game. (What if No Mercy was forced, for example? What if going against destiny is the wrong thing to do? Why is Death such a Bad Thing? etc!) And the further along you progress, the smarter the story gets, the more complex the narrative threads and characters. This game knows how to write compelling literature and that wasn't an element I expecting but god am I so glad for it. Literally my pea brain saw Red's design flipping around some frets on a streamers videocapture (shoutout to based fellow tampa native Charles White, thank you for being witty and having good taste and your Floridian comisery.) one night and went "oh i like." But the experience I got in exchange was, so, so much more than that (but the tetris effect won't let that image disappear from my eyelids quite yet haha.) I hear there are multiple endings and one requires a 3 hour long trek. I'm not done with the game at the time of reviewing. You bet your sweet ass I am going to find out the Ultimate Truth. I found a way to deal with some of the bullshit in other games, I may not be great at games but I want to see whatever imagery these guys put on screen so it compels me to seek out all the alternative routes. I am going to be following these developers projects very closely. If this is their debut, their next project will be ... ... I would hate to force expectations, like if you just made a magnum opus like this it'd be perfectly alright to retire, but I just once again want to say thank you to the developers for putting your heart on display for the world to see. I see it. I have dealt with struggles similar to the ones in the stories this game articulates about anxiety and depression, existentialism and dread, dissociation and all the heavy themes that were risky to include narratively - I'm certaintly glad you took the risks you did. May update this review as I get further along the story but yeah. Tl;dr: haha pinocchio myth done well make brain go brrr. 9.99999999999998/10. I am taking an infitisimal fraction of a point off because of the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ spider in the monster maze. that thing was abhorrent, but I won't let it deter anyone else who wants to play.

[deviationdivine]

The Stoic Prince (RK900!Prompt Request)

TLDR: To you he’s a smug pain in the ass but you still fantasize about getting dirty with him at the DPD.

Word Count: 1,912

TW: Language, Suggestive Themes, Smut Fantasy

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Why the hell am I attracted to snarky stuck up dick faces?” - anon request! Thanks for participating nonnie! This went somewhere else. 1 in the queue done! Onto the next!

"Why do you even bother talking to it?"

Bitter taste of coffee barely touches tongue. Peering up at the question leaves a tiny smirk across lips, which did a hesitant skim of cup rim. Can the DPD honestly get a better brand to chug out of this dispenser?

“Excuse me?”

Purposely hedging away from your co-worker’s sudden interrogation hardly hides the clear tinge of artifice lacing words. Speaking any further may give away this ploy. Of course you know who they mean. He is the only smug jackass that does a heck of a job digging under skin.

Tall, imposing steel scoping a sea of puny humans to gnaw on, using his steadfast jaw, cut from stone if he were made of clay to be fitted by the gods themselves. Plastic, metal – raw material configured, manipulated into eye catching aesthetics.

Fabricated beauty and despite a brusque imperious affectation streaming out of those cool, pert lips. Often times you fantasize how human, warm they might taste. Not just against your mouth but gliding in a hungry appreciation upon every inch of skin made readily available.

To say you had the hots for Nines is an understatement. To say it can go anywhere is another quandary in your grand scheme of things. Natural enigmas be damned he is a walking puzzle waiting to be stripped of his authoritarian programming and cynical attitude.

Unfortunately those gods decided pompous and hypocrisy should be star qualities. Incessantly rolling eyes at your luck, leaning casually into table, coffee machine obscured by your current position, sank an invigorating quiet into your weary body for a brief moment.

Breaks are never long enough. At least there isn’t a sign of top human asshole of the Detroit Police. Rather not have to put a foot up his ass again. However, let’s get back to the inquiry at hand since it hasn’t left the break room.

“Daydreaming about it? Wow, Y/N.”

Sounds like some others you’ve known in the city. Detroit is just a heaping pile of garbage on a good day. Android fever is still in full swing and not how society originally saw it unfolding.  "Don't call him that." You defend him while not in his presence. Better to keep it that way because no way in hell are you admitting how fast you’d drop clothes and get down with the rigid android on the force.  "Just because he's an android, I mean." The female officer rolls eyes at you. "Uh huh. Sure. Next time you’ll tell me Reed’s going out for drinks with Anderson and Connor.”

Considering androids do not drink she’s a long way off course. You snort.

“Better luck with puppy eyed boy,” the officer jabs, smug. “He doesn’t look like he wants to eat people alive. Or maybe that RK900 just wants to eat you out.”

Nearly spitting coffee all over moves you in a quick step forward, grabbing a napkin out of dispenser to brush splotches of brown liquid off shirt. Eat you out?! Yeah, absolutely!

Perfervid antagonism blinds your gaze resting in a target over fellow officer all consuming in personal embarrassment. Truth is not far from luscious fantasies swirling in nightly subconscious. More than a few dreams about tangling body, flesh and humanity with synthetic, plastic and robotics transforms sleep. It is a burning secret. 

A mystery garden planted between the cages absconding the heart ruminating for something of construct, designed in perfection but never mind false images. Never mind unnatural heavenly auras built around a shell of mechanized man. He is everything you can dream about but never will quite openly acknowledge.

One more step and – "Your heart rate is dangerously high for caffeine consumption."

The calculating voice of the RK900 hovers close, sinking in smooth and curt. A statement more so than concern but appropriately edged with his swift, sharp stride into break room.

Fusing a firm hand atop your shoulder seemingly resonates effectively. Analysis is punctual upon your figure as are the sweeping steel he possesses to invoke fear in opponents. He stares down suspects and useless colleagues alike. However there is a bit more skill in you out of most among these humans. He keeps silent, studying a wide appreciation in your eyes.

Pupil dilation is telling to an android who measures subtlety, language in the human form, moving under its own command. Rarely does he witness a shining example of what is referred to as a poker face in most offenders. Upon you it is quite - delicious.

The spike in vitals draws him. Nostrils flare in your personal radius sampling as a bloodhound on a ferocious hunt. Fluctuations respond exquisitely as you are equally confounding in his state of processing.

Do you honestly believe you will affect him in such a wasteful way without retaliation? The form in which he shadows your trembling inhibitions is opposite of what is desired in potential partners. This android does not care in the slightest for decorum. 

He will pull you into his awaiting grasp, splaying atop his smooth marbled chest, wanton in prurience, undone from the molecules that form soft, fragile flesh. Tasting your essence will act as more than data on a long, skillful tongue. It will bury into the nerves breaking down your barriers in a flood of rapture. 

All it takes is a deliberate push. Buttons unfastening with each poke he prods, bleeding into your skin and he does so intentionally to gain reaction. Steeping within your system liquefies him to the plasma running through veins. 

Just as thirium runs a gamut of power to biocomponents he readily will be the life force keeping your mortal existence afloat. So it will be because he wills it out of a viral need you have unwittingly but most adoringly spread into his frame. 

His lips twitch faint. A tiniest curve unseen by naked eye but he settles them to a hard line. 

Your entire body shivers giving away how good he’s gotten you. Damn it. And he’s looking awfully smug about it all. Somehow he manages to keep his stoic façade nestling in his wide, masculine exterior; handsome is a mere flash in the pan for Nines. 

He is beyond definition. You think he knows it too. Why else does he single you out? Making you literally sweat, taking great pleasure in how you behave and pretending nothing is happening.

What a complete and total jackass! Sometimes you swear he fakes this hard ass persona to look the part. Actually, no he’s built this way. Deviancy does nothing for him!

Collecting yourself is instinct and self preservation kicking in. Nobody in their life will get away with this but he melts your strong core down to a puddle. Limpid steel expunges self control. In front of him you strive to be alert so it's not obvious but there was more warmth underneath his imposing touch than you can stand. 

God, he's too good. Flicking eyes down the length of his body drives a surge in your heart, thundering in desperation to current fantasy riding out awake.

Strewn atop table, legs around his waist; ripping open that damn white jacket, digging fingers against defined pecs visibly bursting at the seams through black material, fluffy camouflage to a toned body. Taking you right then and there, moaning his name, sinking fingers into exposed synthetic skin because you want to lay into him as heavily as he lays into you.

Biting of perfectly white teeth, licking languid, sensual from smooth tongue and pounding your body on hard surface, pain thumping against the plane of your back but you beg him for more. 

Ravenous, unfiltered and insatiably poetic while he completely ravages whatever is left of you, nearly collapsing the chosen surface of your hungry carnality. Eye witnesses neither ceasing nor distracting from the obvious orgasm you will ride on high in the clouds of your mind.

Breath catches in a mystifying glaze sparkling up to his hard narrowed brow. A daylight delusion swept hold at the least private location for you to be horny.  For a minute you fear he knows what went on in your head. A predatory slit of Nines’ eyes tracks each minute expression, fidget you relay. He resembles an albino king cobra, flaring a shroud to engulf you in his beguiling shadow.

 Hammering against ribs betrays you to the point of imagining the entire precinct eavesdropping on the laborious thud. A small inhalation expands his chest one he hardly requires for oxygen but absorbs your arousal. Oh, it’s very obvious. You have a bit of a problem between your legs right now. Fuck.

"Peak performance suggests you not consume more than the recommended dose of caffeine, Detective.”

The android’s voice is deeper, darker than usual. Almost testing, watchful of how your body will respond next. Enough so that a smirk graces the mouth you wish to ascend in prayer to the immediate issue you physically suffer. He will cure such issue predominantly efficient. “Coffee will not help your productivity if you misuse it." Misuse it, huh? Oh, you’re sure nothing will be of misuse here. Preferably his tongue; you screw up your face to hide the lust.  

Why the fuck is he looking like that? Does he realize people will start noticing? Honestly, it’s first time you realize it’s just the two of you in the break room. Guess he scared off your former gossip partner.  "Why do you care what I do anyway?” Seething at his game and the fact you’re turned on at work, you slam a finger into his chest. Stabbing him doesn’t move his perfect posture but it sure does make you ache more.  “It's not as if it's worth your time."

Nines’ head cocks to the side marginally amused by this insolence. He finds it cripplingly fascinating on a good day but why voice such trivialities?

“Perhaps if you behave in a professional capacity, Detective Y/L/N?” Leaning in to brush the words beside ear, purposely expelling artificial breath to lick your skin, the android fuses fingers against your hip.

A slow slide kisses beneath the android’s tempting fingertips allowing the hitch of your natural breath fuel his personal stimulus. Aroused by you will not go without discipline. There is only one kind he imagines to have utmost potency and satisfaction.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Nines switches to informalities, dangerously silken. “Do you wish every advanced piece of technology that wanders into the DPD to fuck you? Or is it because I am faster, stronger and more resilient to your needs?”

Gasping is the last vocalization you will give him. Pushing back from you reserves dignity even if you want him to just snag you hard by the hips and throw you down into the evidence room. Quieter, less traffic right now and it’d be a pretty good way to… He just called himself the best and believes it.

Well, it’s true right? No. Fuck his snide self!

You are trying but still…

“Why the hell am I attracted to snarky, stuck up dick faces?!”

Story of your goddamn life apparently and this one is the snarkiest, smuggest, sexy piece of android you’ve had the discomfort and pleasure to meet.

“Get over yourself, Nines!”

Yelling on the way out of the break room only causes looks and you’re sure without turning around he’s still standing there. Tall as hell and making you weak, oh so weak to his stormy sea and he’s already swallowed you up.

Wait until he devours you.  

Tag List: @elydith  @your-taxidermy

[mdye]

When I was in eighth grade, I stood on a chair to rail against what I perceived was my social studies teacher’s sexism. Looking back, I’m not surprised by my response, given that the philosophies of feminism were ingrained in me at a young age (though I’m not sure I had the language for it until I was in high school).

Yet, while I was vocally and intellectually fighting for female equality against the sexism around us, many of my fellow females steered clear of my mission. It seemed like they were content living with the subtle sexism around us, just as the women of Gilead ― the fictional, dystopian world in “The Handmaid’s Tale” ― seem passively resigned to their fate.

The series’ second episode ― appropriately titled “Birth” ― is exceptionally jarring in its depictions of motherhood and sisterhood, often obscuring the lines between the two. As someone who speaks professionally about sexual agency, pleasure and consent, “The Handmaid’s Tale” is a stunning encapsulation of what a world looks like without those things. It’s riddled with so many nightmarish, yet pertinent, scenes that by the time your head has finished processing one situation, it’s on to the next.

 Of course, I’m not living in Gilead. My sisterhood is not based upon reproductive potential. My fertility does not define me. And yet, the theme of caste-based sisterhood is carried through this episode, seen in both the sisterhood of the Handmaids and the sisterhood of the Wives.

 There are moments when you appreciate that these women have each other to lean on, that they support each other. They share a bond...even if that bond is quite literally tied to their reproductive systems, arguably the most archaic way of defining social roles.

 That’s why I can’t help but think of the phrase “herd mentality” when thinking about the social roles these women are forced to play into. While its animalistic depiction makes me uncomfortable, I’m also painfully aware that this description is ― quite literally ― how the Handmaids are used and seen by the elite members of Gilead society. They are cattle: taken for their flesh and the product of that flesh, offspring and milk.

 Herd mentality runs strong throughout this episode. When Ofwarren (the Handmaid formerly named Janine ― remember what I said about names?) is in labor, a group of red-cloaked, head-bonneted Handmaids rush to her at the home of her Commander’s Wife.

Together, the Handmaids cheer on their compatriot. Janine is in white, an oddly pure look for this group, given the circumstances. But this sight is not half as odd as the room down the hall, where Janine’s “Wife” is identically dressed in white. She is panting and grunting as if in “labor” herself, her fellow wives cheering her on.

In Gilead, social roles are not malleable ― they are stiff as a board. There are severe consequences for challenging those predestined roles, though we aren’t sure what those punishments are just yet. But as a viewer, I have the innate urge to challenge that (unethical) status quo.

I know how painful infertility can be...but could I, had I lived in Gilead, have condoned forced intercourse, conception and birth, as the Wives in Gilead do? I want to believe that the Wives are privately fighting against the status quo, and that their identity doesn’t prevent them from doing what’s right. But in Gilead, nothing ― and everything ― is what it seems.

The Handmaid’s Tale is a drama series based on the award-winning, best-selling novel by Margaret Atwood. Watch for new episodes of the Hulu Original on Wednesdays.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

[thesimplyluxuriouslife]

20 Ways to Incorporate Your Love for the French Culture into Your Everyday

~The Simple Sophisticate, episode #144

~Subscribe to The Simple Sophisticate: iTunes | Stitcher | iHeartRadio

Recently a good friend of mine who is learning French as well, and inspires me with her advanced abilities, asked how my learning was progressing. Disappointed even to say it out loud, I stated I haven't been studying regularly. And while that is entirely true, I find myself playing with the little bit of the language I do know unconsciously throughout my days and in conversations and activities spent with those who know the language. I continue to share and be enticed by French-themed posts, articles and books, and have shared much of what I find on my Twitter feed, but it became glaringly apparent that I haven't written a Francophile post/episode in quite some time. However, as my recent daily schedule has shifted ever-so-slightly to make time for a special individual in my life, I am even more appreciative of the simply luxurious approach to living. In fact, it is the approach I write about here on TSLL and share on the podcast that enable me to let go, appreciate, and savor the everyday moments and unexpected extraordinary moments in the ordinary routine. The realization of the approach of letting go of the unnecessary and focusing on the necessary being the key to easily flexing with life has inspired me to ardently protect and cultivate further these aspects, many of which are inspired by what I appreciate about the French, and some would argue western-European culture. 1. Depend on flavors from herbs, spices and ordinary cooking staples to enhance the flavor of food After a recent conversation with an acquaintance from Belgium, I was reminded of the flavorful approach the French and other European countries take to cooking. First of all, they cook, they play with the food and the flavors and they don't bury their food in thick, sugar-laden sauces. The simple sautéing of garlic and shallots in olive oil to provide a flavorful base or finishing with lemon to maximize the flavor. How about adding some thyme or rosemary and don't forget the salt and pepper while you are cooking. 2. Discover the pleasure of thoughtful conversation, let go of small talk Part of being a good conversationalist is caring about what your fellow-converser is saying. Secondly, it requires of both to let go of where the conversation might lead. This is not easy for goal-driven, busy Americans. We want to accomplish something, complete it and move on. However, deeper, more intimate relationships cannot be built on demand. Slow down, relax and let the conversation flow naturally. Forget looking at the clock and just enjoy the moment. 3. Cook at home unless a restaurant can do it better Stock and prepare a kitchen that lends itself well to cooking whatever may be in the refrigerator on any given night. Make sure your Épicerie is properly stocked and the necessary cooking utensils are at the ready. Then, begin to experiment. Initially, this can be intimating, but with advice from those who know how, observation and practice, you will be whipping up delicious, simple, satiating meals Monday through Sunday if you so desire. (Learn more about how to become a cook in your kitchen here and here.) 4. Reexamine your diet. Eat flavorful, satiating food rather than empty calories. Eating well involves an appreciation of the food your are eating as well as respecting your body. We shouldn't have to swear off the delicious in order to tend to our cholesterol, etc. Moderation is the key and that requires of each of us knowledge about how the foods we eat affect our bodies. While eating is necessary, doing so mindlessly shouldn't be part of our approach. For example, reduce the soda intake and increase the fruit and vegetable consumption. 5. Savor a glass of wine with a home cooked meal, any day of the week To complement, not to cloud. Wine with dinner, a beautifully thoughtful dinner carefully prepared and presented deserves a savory partner in the form of a glass of wine. Sip, nibble, slow down and savor the culinary moment in front of you. 6. Reduce refined sugar White sugar, white flour, packaged, processed foods with additives. In other words, know what you are putting into your body and what those ingredients do to you body. (Read more here about my January - one month resolution to reduce or eliminate refined sugar.) 7. Think for yourself Have an opinion grounded in fact. Take the time to be aware of the world around you and refrain from rash assumptions. Being tactful in your approach and being aware of your audience reduces the need to be politically correct. Rather be honest, thoughtful and open to discussion. 8. Fall in love with daily rituals From my morning ritual breakfast of steel oats to my Friday evening unwind that begins with a long walk with the boys, cultivating daily, even weekly and monthly rituals gives us something to look forward to regularly. As someone who loves to step into the kitchen and prepare a meal, this daily ritual is something I enjoy beyond measure. Maybe for you it is your weekly yoga class or sitting down with the newspaper or a new magazine. Whatever your rituals are, protect them and cherish them. 9. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate In #11 below, skincare will be discussed and part of an effective skincare routine is drinking water. Keep the consumption of alcohol and sugar drinks low and making water your drink of choice. 10. Treasure the dining experience Sit down for meals, set the table, turn off the television, converse, slow down. Add some flowers to the table to make it inviting even when not in use. Create a space that beckons to guests, asking them to sit down and enjoy a memorable moment. 11. Master a skincare routine Last month I shared with you eight of my favorite skincare products. Some items are inexpensive and some are an investment. However, the attention we pay to our skin is not a vain task. It is a task modeling respect for ourselves and the visage and therefore the woman we present to the world. Figuring out the skincare routine that will work best for your skin and age will take time and will in some aspects be an ever evolving process, but most items you discover that work for you, will work for you throughout your lifetime. Go, explore and then, pamper yourself each day. 12. Embrace the capsule approach to style Less is more and simple, well curated style speaks volumes, beautiful, powerful volumes, about the woman wearing the clothes. Learn more about the capsule wardrobe approach here. 13. Reserve social media for what inspires you The reason I follow the Instagram accounts I do is to tap into inspiration, beauty and a reminder of all that is full of goodness, diversity and unexpected magnificence in simplicity that surrounds us each day. Rarely do the accounts I follow include selfies, but rather city and nature scapes, a creative fashion combination, books, museum exhibits and vignettes of my favorite places around the world. Why not share with the world what inspires you and never know who will be moved. 14. Let go of trying too hard and begin to trust yourself Last Monday morning I woke up to sunshine and blue skies in Bend, Oregon. The birds were beginning to chirp and the snow was gradually melting. I looked outside and I just smiled. Sometimes, we get in our own way of savoring the gift that is life. In all of its simplicity, for some reason we think it has to be hard, and if it's not, we make it so by over-analyzing, doubting, sabotaging and over-extending ourselves. Life and how we exist in it is simple and it begins with being present, savoring the everyday, listening to yourself and adjusting to let go of what doesn't serve you and seek out what does and how you can contribute positively to the world. The everydays are the best part. And while it is a grand and necessary task to set goals, set them and then focus on what can be done today, allowing the unexpected to occur and dance with the days as they unfold. 15. Savor a piece of dark chocolate regularly Whenever I share my daily ritual of eating a dark chocolate truffle with a cup of hot tea each evening I do not partake in dessert, some nod their head and contemplate adding it to their routine and others chuckle at its either decadence or simplicity. Either way, I love this daily ritual and have been incorporating into my life since near the blog's commencement. The powers of dark chocolate are subtle, yet powerful and the flavor is magnificent. 16. Keep your Sundays sacred Speaking of rituals, one of my favorite rituals takes place on Sunday (last week it took place on Monday due to my schedule, but I made sure to savor it all the same - see below). The Sunday newspapers arrive (three in total), the hot tea is poured after a long walk with the boys and a croissant is often part of the moment as well. Hours can pass before I've made it through all of the intriguing articles. No matter how you prefer to spend your Sunday, protect, guard it and remember that doing so is an investment in the quality of your life and specifically in the kicking off of the week to come, ensuring it has its best chance possible to be a week to enjoy. 17. Think critically A few years ago I shared a post inspired by a book titled The Thinking Life: How to Thrive in the Age of Distraction . And in sharing and in teaching rhetoric in my second job that isn't blogging, I continue to be more convinced that the thinking life is the best way to live. Taking in all that we are exposed to can be overwhelming, but knowing how to do so effectively will enable us to live well. By applying the tools of rhetoric established by Aristotle to examine any piece of information that we come across, we can make sure we are not being led around by the nose and are indeed thinking for ourselves. 18. Revel and appreciate your uniqueness America is a self-help culture, and while there is absolutely nothing wrong with continuing to grow (see #19), not believing we are enough or not accepting ourselves for who we are in this moment, right now, is not easy for many of us. After all, if we could just lose those last few pounds, if we could just earn a slightly larger paycheck, if we could just fix our relationship status, focusing entirely, constantly on these "small" changes robs us of the now. And who you are right now, however flawed, is a beautiful thing. 19. Invest in Intellectual Wealth Make learning one of your favorite pastimes. Whether it is learning how to skate ski (as I did this winter season for the first time), learning how the three branches of the U.S. government work regarding checks and balances, or learning how to cook Sole Meunière. Tickle your mind and follow your curiosity and you will always find youth to be alive within you. 20. Quality over Quantity in all things The following 19 ways to incorporate the French culture into your everyday life, at their core, involve appreciating the experience and allowing what works well to exist without the excess. Quality, quality, quality. Above all else quality. And what works well for you may not be what works well for someone else, so what each of us chooses to invest in will indeed be different. But if your goal is to build a life that enables you to enjoy the everyday, and not constantly be dreaming about tomorrow, then your tomorrows need not to be worried about for you are ensuring now, today, in this moment, that they will be magnificent as well. ~SIMILAR POSTS YOU MIGHT ENJOY FROM THE ARCHIVES:

~Why Not . . . Be Fascinated by the French Culture?

~8 Ways to Master the French Mystique

~The French Way: How to Create a Luxurious Everyday Life (podcast #23)

  ~Petit Plaisir

~The Good Fight on CBS All Access

https://youtu.be/2c1LihE9kFw    

Image: source

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

[davidddiep]

9 Best Cannabis Products to Bring to a Super Bowl Party

Super Bowl LIII! Who are you rooting for? Rams? Pats?

More importantly, what are you going to be eating on the big day? And smoking?

Cannabis makes any social gathering more enjoyable, and the Super Bowl is no exception. But you gotta pick the right products. And that means knowing your audience.

Whether you’re throwing a Super Bowl party or attending one, take a survey of the guests and figure out which strains and edibles they’d most likely enjoy. They may not be that picky, but it never hurts to ask for requests, especially if you’re making a massive edible dish.

But if your fellow party-goers don’t care what you bring, here’s a list of the 9 best cannabis products to bring to a Super Bowl party!

Let’s start with the most obvious choices:

1. Pre-Rolls

Don’t feel like breaking out the bong? Don’t want to deal with the mess of grinding up cannabis for smoking or bowl consumption?

Pre-rolls are fun, simple, shareable, and they come in a multitude of strains. So if you’re looking for something that doesn’t require a whole lot of thought, just grab a few different pre-rolls and you’ll be good to go!

2. Vape Pens

Keeping with our theme of simple and easy, it really doesn’t get much simpler than a vape pen.

Like pre-rolls, vapes come in a variety of strains. You can either use a disposable vape cartridge with a battery or a fully disposable pen.

And because you don’t have to light it, you also don’t have to worry about creating smoke or ash, which your party guests may appreciate.

Now let’s focus on some strains that will help boost your appetite. After all, there’s bound to be some pretty spectacular food at the party. These two strains will help you enjoy and savor that food even more!

3. Joe Fix-It #5

This pungent, earthy, herbal-tasting hybrid has a 24% – 28% percent THC ratio. If you’re a beginning cannabis user, proceed with caution. It’s powerful!

That being said, Joe Fix-It #5 delivers an even-keeled, happy, euphoric head effect with a complimentary, relaxing body effect, so it’s ideal for relieving stress and anxiety. Good for social lubrication if being at parties makes you anxious.

And the munchies are strong with this one!

4. Fluffhead Kush

This hybrid is both sweet, citrusy and lil’ spicy. Calm and relaxing head effects with enhanced creativity and focus. Gradual, relaxing body effects to follow.

Time to bring out the appetizers. After a few puffs of Fluffhead Kush, you’ll be able to eat enough food to fill a stadium.

Now that you’ve worked up an appetite, let’s move on to some edibles.

5. Cannabutter

Why do we love cannabutter? Because it’s about as versatile an edible as you can get.

Are you planning on making any of the following dishes?

Sliders

Chili

Pizza

Chicken wings

Nachos

Cheese dips

Pigs in a blanket

Casseroles

Cookies

Brownies

Pretty much any classic Super Bowl food you can imagine

All of these dishes either require butter or can be significantly improved upon by using butter (let’s be honest – butter makes EVERYTHING tastes better).

And if it needs butter, there’s no reason why you can’t add a little cannabutter to supplement the experience!

If you’re not in the mood to make a full-on dish yourself, here are some easy edible additions for your party.

7. Honey Mustard and Barbecue Sauce

Want to add some extra flavor and cannabis infusion to your pretzels, wings, hot dogs, hamburgers, or whatever else you plan on chowing down on that day? Evergreen Organix offers both Honey Mustard Sauce and BBQ Sauce.

One sauce container has close to 100 mg of THC. Just add a little bit to any food item and BAM! Instant edible! Isn’t life grand?

8. Pretzel Bites

Speaking of pretzels, Body and Mind’s Pretzel Bites are on the sweet side of things: bite-sized, square-shaped pretzel sandwiches with a caramel filling. Oh, and they’ve also been dipped in chocolate. Mmm-mmmm!

Each pretzel bite contains about 10 mg of THC and has a slightly sedating effect, so this is definitely a treat for later in the evening when the game is winding down and you’re transitioning into after-party mode.

9. CannaPunch

Even though we’ve put CannaPunch at the end of this list, these cannabis beverages might actually be a great way to start the party.

Imagine showing up to a party and being offered a plate full of shot glasses – each one with a dose of CannaPunch inside (1 serving = 10 mg of THC). Offer that to your guests, and you’ll be on their good side in no time.

Thanks to CannaPunch’s NXT extraction technology, you can absorb quite a bit of the cannabinoids sublingually (under your tongue) while you’re drinking it, which means you don’t have to wait for it to get down to your stomach to start feeling the effects.

Even though you can drink CannaPunch by itself, because of its potency, you may also want to consider using it as a mixer in another drink.

You can get CannaPunch in the following flavors:

Blue Raspberry Sour

Grand Daddy Grape

Lite Grand Daddy Grape

Pineapple Mango Delight

Watermelon Nectar

Hope you were inspired by our list of the 9 best cannabis products to bring to a Super Bowl party!

If you’re interested in purchasing these products, visit us at any our three locations — Las Vegas Strip, Tropicana West, Henderson — and speak with one of our dispensary consultants. If you want to confirm that we have these products in stock before visiting, you can either place your order online or send us a text.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday!

The post 9 Best Cannabis Products to Bring to a Super Bowl Party appeared first on Essence Cannabis Dispensary.

[the-volleyball-blog]

The Breakfast Club and Sexuality

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG3-n9ABoLA&index=10&list=PLF37Yj4A_mOc-t7xKHInVQ73eQgZoVC9B

As a college student who has a younger brother who is gay, the discussion of his sexuality comes up fairly regularly, usually initiated by himself. Some of the topics he brings up are related to bullying and abuse of people who have sexual preferences that are different from the majority of society. I have heard enough conversations so I could analyze films like Love, Simon and talk about how his orientation could be the source of bullying or abuse. However, I wanted to focus on something slightly different for this blog post. Instead of orientation, something similar but not quite the same is the societal stereotypes of sex in general and analyze how they are similar to today’s pressures and how sex for men and women are different. In The Breakfast Club, the film does not quite truly destroys these and many other stereotypes, which can lead to problems especially as the film ages further and societal norms are continually changing as we move further towards the second decade in the 21st century.

According to Laura M. Carpenter’s study in the Sociological Forum, many of those young people who have not had sexual experiences have looked to films and mass media as a way of information, which places even more emphasis on Hollywood to take these subjects very seriously and portray them properly. “ Longitudinal studies have linked youths' sexual conduct to their consumption of media with sexual content. Brown et al. (2006) found that 12-14 year-old white boys and girls exposed to media diets high in sexual content...were significantly more likely to have had sex by ages 14-16 than white teens with media diets lower in sexual content, even after controlling for other predictors of sexual activity” (Carpenter, 808). The Breakfast Club, therefore, can be seen as a threat to the youth of society, especially today as things seem to get more and more liberal. The opportunity of children and young adults to consume such media without a definitive stance on whether or not sexual exploration is good or bad can be dangerous considering the film’s fairly ambiguous ending and the different context in which it was first created.

While The Breakfast Club may have a feel-good ending and have the majority of stereotypes destroyed, the case of sexuality and sexual harassment is still somewhat prominent even as the film rolls its credits. In one analysis of a modern discussion of the film, Christopher Borrelli of the Chicago Tribute notes that “Estevez is in detention for sexually assaulting a fellow athlete; Nelson's locker is scrawled with homophobic hate language; Ringwald says a relationship is one man, one woman. Thirty years on, where to begin here?...Emilio's character engaged in what we regard as hazing. Since sexual harassment happened, he would be in a Title IX lawsuit for years...though nobody talked about stuff like sexual harassment in schools then. Today, a school can't avoid its responsibilities with a situation like that" (Christopher Borrelli). By today’s standards this is a terrible thing to do to a woman, resulting in lawsuits and prison time as Borrelli states. While The Breakfast Club may be a timeless classic, some elements of the film such as the parts where it jabs at sexuality and social pressures are not fit for modern standards. Just like Steve Carell recognized that The Office would not see the same success in 2018, The Breakfast Club might not as well since it infringes on some of today’s social norms.

One final striking example of what was mentioned above is a retrospective look from Molly Ringwald in The New Yorker at the actions of Bender in the film. As exemplified in the youtube clip at the top, she mentions the subtle themes of sexual harassment towards her from the character Bender throughout the film. “What’s more, as I can see now, Bender sexually harasses Claire throughout the film. When he’s not sexualizing her, he takes out his rage on her with vicious contempt, calling her “pathetic,” mocking her as “Queenie.” It’s rejection that inspires his vitriol. Claire acts dismissively toward him, and, in a pivotal scene near the end, she predicts that at school on Monday morning, even though the group has bonded, things will return, socially, to the status quo. “Just bury your head in the sand and wait for your fuckin’ prom!” Bender yells” (Ringwald). She touches heavily on the scene where Bender hides under the table and catches a glimpse of Claire’s underwear as one such example of this sexual harassment. However, these actions seem to be blown over in the film. Claire does snap at Bender at one point, but even with that Bender still maintains a relatively powerful position in the conversation, even calling Claire a bitch.

It pains me to write this paper for my topic since I absolutely love The Breakfast Club, but the point can be made that the film may not see the same success in 2018 due to its offensive ideals that it touches upon and does not fully conclude or resolve. I must admit, as much as I appreciate the film today, the first time I watched it I was not left with an overwhelmingly feeling; there was a lot that was still to be resolved in the next few sessions of detention between the five students.

Carpenter, Laura M. “Virginity Loss in Reel/Real Life: Using Popular Movies to Navigate Sexual Initiation.” Sociological Forum, vol. 24, no. 4, 2009, pp. 804–827.

Borelli, Christopher. “'The Breakfast Club' 30 years later: Don't you forget about them.” Chicago Tribune, n.d.

Ringwald, Molly. “What About ‘The Breakfast Club’?” The New Yorker, Apr. 6, 2018.

[how2to18]

LAST AUGUST, upon getting a new job at a small university in Wisconsin, I started a daily hour-long commute. Every morning I jet out of Madison’s east side, meandering down I-90, and halfway to Chicago, I exit onto a network of county roads that wend through cornfields and prairie, a landscape whose only saliences are the oxidized rectitude of grain silos or the pylons for the town’s electricity. Most of the other vehicles out here are semi-trucks or SUVs towing fishing boats with names like SEADUCTION and GROUPER THERAPY.

In some sense, a commute is an ontological problem. Confined to one’s car or the seat of a train, there is only so much you can do. It is a prickly non-hour during which you are unaccountable to your family or friends and are thus unburdened from the onuses of home or the tug of productivity. Of course, some of us push back against this inertia. So conditioned are we to “maximize our time,” we view the bus or train as a makeshift office and convert our business calls into public soliloquies. From my college days in Chicago I can still recall voyages during which neatly barbered executives held onto the train car railing and shouted into their cell phones things like, “Jesus Christ, Marty: not today, Monday!” or, “Just send me the goddamned spreadsheets!” One wonders why anyone buys theater tickets when, on public transport, you can see Death of a Salesman for free as a daily matinee.

Even those of us who drive still attempt to escape our limitations. We outfit our bodies with a couture of electronic gadgets with the hope of transcending time and space. With our bluetooths (blueteeth?) and smartwatches, we return phone calls and eschew idleness, striving to stay one step ahead of the competition. My cousin, a financial advisor, tells me that during his commute he often video-chats with customers through a small dashboard camera. Occasionally they’ll remark upon the whine of a proximate car horn or the image of cattle ranch framed in his rearview window.

From this vantage, the commute seems to reify a basic American covenant: the promise of social mobility. With nothing more than your pluck and intuition, you’re free to hoist up those bootstraps and bloodhound around for your share of the pie. I have the sensation almost every morning that to join the puttering multitude is to bolster the ranks of Americans who still believe in the Horatio Alger myth, who think we can transcend our disappointments through hustle and toil, who believe the trajectory of our fate is commensurate to our willingness to stay on the move. Very often on the highway I hear in my inner ear two pop songs from the 1980s, “Working for the Weekend” by Loverboy and “Workin’ for a Livin’” by Huey Lewis & The News: songs whose carbonated optimism makes it easy for me to imagine myself as Michael J. Fox in The Secret of My Success, a fair-haired golden boy who can climb the professional ladder with nothing more than winks and roguish charm.

Which is to say that a commute is an occasion for self-delusion. It is an hour of preening and exhortation during which we psych ourselves up for the day’s demands. When I was in my early 20s, during the first decade of the century, I lived in a dingy apartment on the north side of Chicago and interned for a certain big-eared senator who harbored presidential ambitions. Three days a week, I spent an hour on the El, jouncing toward the Loop, wearing a suit that didn’t fit me and an ill-advised goatee. I had grown up in small-town Wisconsin and pegged myself as a wide-eyed Huckleberry unfit for national politics. During my commute, I tried to compensate by watching, on my laptop, episodes from Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing, modeling my persona on the role of Josh Lyman, the deputy chief of staff who blustered and quipped his way across the Capitol, deactivating political foes with unction and blandishment. Within the span of an hour, Lyman’s serrated wit gave me a stencil for my workday sensibility, even though my own tasks in the senator’s office never went beyond typing correspondence or fielding constituents’ complaints.

Of course, a commute is a circular journey, a coming and going, so whatever varnish we apply to our psyches in the morning invariably wears off by the hour of return. At no time is this more apparent than on evening buses and trains, when the despair of fellow passengers can so thoroughly darken your mood that you find yourself getting off several stops before your exit. The apparition of these faces in a crowd, Ezra Pound wrote of a subway station in 1913, petals on a wet, black bough.

Back in Chicago, my boss was forecasting a season of hope and change, but it was not uncommon for my commute to wear the symptoms of the prevailing anomie: barefoot transients muttering preachments to no one or teens in billowing parkas toking joints with impunity. I remember once, on the Red Line toward Evanston, a cohort of drunken students from Northwestern bellowing Disney songs from their youth: “A Whole New World” and “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King.” That these tunes were so roaringly incongruous to the train’s interior — that they operated as a callow taunt to our less fortunate fellow travelers — seemed never to have occurred to them. Instead, the students held fast to the talismanic powers of a commute, a vessel hurtling toward their own enchanted destinies.

Such optimism seems more prevalent among the young. For those of us who are now on the cusp of middle age, a commute isn’t so much a journey of progress as a footpath around regrets and deferred ambitions. By the time they were my age, Emily Brontë had penned Wuthering Heights and the Buddha had renounced all worldly possessions, but all I have to my name are a handful of publications and one year toward tenure at a small Midwestern university. Whereas a commute was once a screen upon which I could project a montage of future achievements — a widely feted novel, the label of wunderkind, a house in the country — it now functions as a yawning chasm of time in which, if I’m not careful, I can lose myself to ruefulness and dispassion.

I suppose this is why, wherever I grumble about my commute, my friends are quick to offer a menu of dubious advice. Adamantly they suggest the downloading of audiobooks or podcasts, anything to lure the mind away from the jaws of self-critique. In order to lessen the burdens of the journey, they seem to suggest, you must forget where you are and why you’re there. You must take up the avenues of self-erasure.

Such recommendations seem of a piece with the most popular injunctions of our time. Constantly we are told to stay busy, to dodge overthinking, lest we court long jags of depression and the arrival of bad moods. Under the banner of self-care, we are exhorted to go ahead and binge-watch that TV show, to scarf that chocolate cake, to delight in the unbridled consumption of the widely practiced “cheat day.” Steeped in the nonthought of yoga, we fold our bodies into the postures of infants and corpses, aiming for a kind of self-obliteration, paying drop-in rates for mental fatality. This points out another etymological declension of commuting: before the word came to connote soul-crippling drives to the workplace, to “commute” was to lessen the severity of a punishment, as when a judge offers a guilty party the balm of a lesser sentence.

And yet part of the sadness I feel during my commute stems from the realization that I have spent too much time absenting myself from my life, that I haven’t appreciated each moment as it came. Throughout my 20s, I believed my days were following the logic of a sitcom, with new characters wandering across the set and interacting with the central players, but the plot was strung loosely together, never building toward some overarching narrative, never orchestrating some final theme. When I was in grad school, I would spend barren hours drinking on the union patio, smoking cigarettes with friends in the seventh year of writing their dissertations, and it never dawned on me that this tipsy chatter would be on the record, that this was time I’d never get back.

That I suffered from this delusion becomes most obvious to me when I finally arrive at school and teach my classes. These college students are nearly 15 years my junior, and yet lately they’ve entered the lecture hall in the apparel of my childhood. In particular, the Massimo hats and Tommy Hilfiger hoodies, which were so popular in the 1990s, now have the power to summon Proustian levels of nostalgia in me. It is a strange mirror. Last week, during office hours, one boy told me how desperately he wanted to tell his story, how badly he wants to be a writer, how badly he wanted this, he said, throwing an arm into the air, as though the cramped precinct of my office were some sort of holy relic, the site of all creation. I would have found his earnestness charming if it weren’t such faithful reflection of my own college-aged hungers. Which is why I found myself fighting back tears. To grow old is to encounter on a daily basis an interminable parade of previous selves, miniature incarnations of your delusions, your wild hopes, your mistakes.

In these habits of mind, I seem to share a bloodline with Leopold Bloom and Clarissa Dalloway, those sullen nostalgists for whom a routine errand — a trip to the florist, a jaunt to the post — became a juncture to reflect upon the errancies of one’s life: a squandered dalliance, a neglected son, the aftereffects of a ravaging addiction. No wonder we bristle at the idle hours of our commute. For it is then that we see how choosing Chicago over Berkeley kept us from a life of sunshine, how a graduate degree in fiction ruled out a job in the West Wing, how our moneyless lifestyle as aspiring novelists prevented us from having children.

These days, during the hour of my commute, I am trying to sit more easily with my disappointments, trying to remember more fondly the places I have been. For that is what we risk losing amid all those dissected evenings in thrall to self-abstention, all those slack-jawed hours with TV shows and podcasts. We are distancing ourselves from the fact of our inevitable transformation: that we are always getting older, that things are no longer as they once had been. In this sense, we are always in commute, always traveling inexorably between those “two eternities of darkness,” as Nabokov called them, the one toward which we are heading and the one from which we came.

“I thought it would last, my time,” writes Philip Larkin, that bard of resignation. “The sense that, beyond the town, there would always be fields and farms.” On my journey home, the road is long, and out across the gathering dusk, a hem of leafless trees stands frayed against the mauvish horizon. For half an hour, I drive through swaths of undulant prairie, unaccompanied by fellow travelers, and every so often the fecal reek of soil pervades the window, a vestige of the forgotten summer. Atop a faraway hill, two cows graze in lazy contention, and even in the twilight, I can see that they’re breathing steam. For a while, I lose myself to the hum of the interstate, but when I come out of the fog, it seems, impossibly, that I’m already near my exit. Always, it comes quicker than we expect.

¤

Barrett Swanson was the 2016–2017 Halls Emerging Artist Fellow at the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing.

¤

Banner image by Alan Light.

The post On Commuting appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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[drippeddaily]

Album of the Year 2017 #02: GoldLink - At What Cost

Album of the Year 2017 #02: GoldLink - At What Cost

Artist: GoldLink

Album: At What Cost

Label: RCA Records

Release Date: March 24, 2017

Listen:

Spotify

YouTube

Apple Music

Tidal

Soundcloud

Background

Despite being among the most populous metro areas in the United States, Washington D.C. has yet to make a name for itself within the hip hop genre. While it has seen its share of homegrown rappers make it big, the DMV area is still a young and growing region in the hip hop community.

Enter GoldLink, né D’Anthony Carlos, a rapper/singer/songwriter from the aforementioned DMV area who, on March 24th, released his third full length project and his first under a major record label titled At What Cost. GoldLink released his 2014 mixtape The God Complex under a shadow of anonymity, not revealing his real name or face. This project then went on become excellently received by critics and fans alike, earning him a spot on the 2015 XXL Freshman List. Using his position as a freshman as momentum, in November 2015 GoldLink released his 2nd mixtape titled ...And After That, We Didn’t Talk. This spur of releases was followed by a little bit of radio silence by GoldLink throughout the better part of 2016, which was broken by the release of a single featuring Brent Faiyaz and Shy Glizzy titled Crew, which peaked at 45 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart. After the release of another single titled Meditation in March, it was announced that GoldLink’s debut studio album At What Cost would be released later that month.

GoldLink’s artistic direction seemed to almost be up in the air for this album. The God Complex was this fast, energetic upbeat project from a new artist that displayed rays of potential. This was followed by a more romance-centric And After That, We Didn’t Talk that seemed to tap into more R&B sounds as we saw the once-exciting rapper take a more chill turn, so the expectations for At What Cost were almost non-existent. After all, it would be only his 3rd full length project, and with so much left to explore in terms of artistry, the possibilities were endless. At What Cost became GoldLink’s coming of age, his realization of where he should be as an artist, and it was an appealing location indeed.

Review

I would like the preface this write up by saying that upon the release of this album, I had never listened to any work of GoldLink’s. I had never heard his previous projects, I hadn’t heard any praise or criticisms of him on any platform, I hadn’t even heard his XXL Freshman Cypher. So, coming into this album I was subjected to no personal or exterior biases, and my choice to listen to this album was solely due to the fact that the cover looked cool. Yep, that’s how I came to meet my album of the year. Whether or not my clean slate of pure lack of prejudice upon first listen of this album affected my reception of this project positively or negatively could be a topic of debate, however I feel my open mindedness towards this, or any album for that matter, allows for a more honest and pure consumption of a musical project. Perhaps my expectations, or lack thereof, were skewed by GoldLink’s professional name which may have subconsciously led me to believe that the album I was about to indulge in was more towards the subcategory of gangster rap, a conception that the album art would have supported. However, despite my blind entry into an unfamiliar artist’s album, I was without a doubt pleasantly surprised by the content with which I was met.

What stood out to me most after my first listen was how quickly I fell in love with the project. Usually projects take ample time for me to truly appreciate them in any aspect, yet after first listen I found myself desiring to return to the album again and again, which I would argue is largely thanks to the production on the project. While GoldLink himself obviously isn’t doing the production, in reference to the project as a whole, the production was thoroughly enjoyable, consistent, and most importantly: fun. When I say fun I’m not referring to Lil Yachty “just having fun”, I mean it’s the kind of production that makes an album fun to listen to. It’s what provides immense replay value, it’s what gets you moving, and instrumentation is a huge part of music so it really plays a big role into the creation of a good album. GoldLink seemed to take a somewhat unconventional, risky approach to the production on this project and it paid off. The choice of production was perfect for pairing with the nature of the album and I felt perfectly helped emphasize the theme GoldLink was trying to convey on this album. GoldLink brings in an elite array of producers for this album, such as Kaytranada, Matt Martians of the Internet and Odd Future, Steve Lacy, and Syk Sense. This collection of well-established producers became the architects of this D.C. album GoldLink had envisioned and incorporated aspects of 70s disco and funk music (Kaytranada especially) that were essential to GoldLink’s attempt to bring the listener to the District of Columbia through the power of his music.

Perhaps my favorite example of the production on this album is that of Meditation featuring Philadelphia’s Jazmine Sullivan as well as the aforementioned Kaytranada on production. This track catapults off from the vibrant 70s-esque interlude that is Hands On Your Knees as Kaytranada samples his own track off his 99.9% mixtape and creates what was the second single off of the album. I am absolutely infatuated by how amazing the production from Kaytra was on this track. It starts off with light and airy synth chords which sets itself up for the distinctive bassline of the track. This track is the most perfect embodiment of the production of the album. The funky, light, happy, upbeat, beat on this song is really what helps GoldLink pack a punch with his music. I feel like the best word to describe it would be groovy, but I know that sounds sort of cliché when speaking about hip hop. Potentially my favorite thing about this style of production is that the possibilities are endless, and GoldLink definitely exploits this trait on this project. The ability to create a cohesive album where every song is clearly distinguishable is something hip hop artists strive for, and on At What Cost it was almost seamless for GoldLink. Even on the song Herside Story, originally a Hare Squead song where GoldLink had merely added rapping, it blends unsuspectingly into the album like it was there in the first place and GoldLink manages to improve an already great song with his additional verses. This is just a general description of the sensory feel of the album if no thought was given to any particular aspect, despite my numerous praises of the production. Overall, I felt the album was very well constructed and felt very fluid throughout. These aspects seem to be underappreciated or seldomly mentioned when referencing hip hop music yet play a massive role in the overall enjoyment of a given project.

I haven’t even touched on GoldLink himself yet, and to the unfamiliar reader this write-up could almost be interpreted as an in depth review of a beat tape. But bear with me here, there does happen to be rap on this rap album. One striking thing to me about GoldLink’s rap style (on this project at the very least) is that GoldLink raps exactly like you’d think he raps if you were to just look at him. Maybe I’m grasping at straws here, but GoldLink’s rapping is similar to his appearance in the sense that they’re both mellow-yet-confident. Surprisingly enough, GoldLink isn’t even the first person rapping on his own album. That title belongs to fellow D.C. rapper Ciscero on the track Same Clothes As Yesterday. However, GoldLink’s entrance to this album feels almost cinematic. In fact, there’s something about how this entire album is constructed that makes it feel cinematic. GoldLink manages to build anticipation for his big debut on At What Cost, with the Opening Credit intro followed by the transition into Same Clothes as well as Ciscero’s verse. And without a doubt, GoldLink capitalizes on the anticipation, while spitting these amusing bars after he performs the hook:

Ridin' 'round and my car's low, nigga, what you waitin' for?

Big dick in her tonsils, yeah, I got a big ego, hoe

Ridin' 'round and my bitch high and grip her thighs, I might fuck that right

Wildin' out, I might make her mine, might fuck around, I might blow her high

-GoldLink on Same Clothes As Yesterday

Going back to my cinematic point, this entrance and first lines by GoldLink really makes you feel like you’re at a concert. That’s how good of a job he does at building anticipation and then making that big arrival like the main act does at a big show. This is the kind of sentiment you want to receive when you’re listening to an album, you want that grand feeling when listening to music, after all in my opinion I don’t think music is very good if it doesn’t provoke some sort of emotion from you, the emotion here being the resulting excitement from an energy crescendo. This aspect isn’t exclusive to GoldLink of course, it’s a pretty common practice in hip hop to give an album a somewhat movie-like delivery, and in good reason. It’s very effective at creating an album that is truly fun and interesting to listen to front to back. It’s this cinema-effect that GoldLink uses to transport you to Washington D.C. through his music. This was demonstrated very tastefully with the ending to Meditation and the transition to Herside Story - that being the “oh shit!” followed by the gunshots and ensuite the light intro to the dreamlike Herside Story. The concluding track Pray Everyday really captures this concept in what almost seems like the roll credits of the album, and even with the transformation to the light and happy Have You Seen That Girl? at the beginning of the album to the more hopelessly romantic Some Girl near the conclusion. This allows GoldLink to create the illusion that, despite there being no underlying theme or story, it almost feels as if there is.

Going back to the the mellow-yet-confident rapping style, GoldLink’s flow and delivery on this project are really what pulls everything all together. After all, there is absolutely nothing on At What Cost that could at all salvage its album of the year status if GoldLink’s performance fell short. There’s something so satisfying and melodic about the flows used on this project, it almost gives the feeling of comfort and relaxation. GoldLink has a deep, smooth voice that he uses to his advantage when accompanying his cloudy intoxicating production and every line on this album seems effortless (in the good sense). GoldLink flows in this cohesive stream of words that provides an easy listen while simultaneously bringing personality and charisma to every track. Probably the best analogy I can come up with to GoldLink’s rap style is that he raps as if he’s gonna smoke the whole squad out on blunts but will still kick your ass if you don’t puff-puff-pass. He contrasts these two elements pretty clearly if you were to compare the tracks Have You Seen That Girl? and Kokamoe Freestyle.

We shot a nigga at the go-go last week

We don't really care who got shot last week

Ridin' up the meter, plug 'ya village bumpin' Migos

I'm past shit, you don't want no problems with a GED

Peep G, I'm the king of the streets

I never had to struggle with the gangs in a beef

Always ten toes so it's hard to defeat

And trust me nigga, I been lookin' hard for a beat, huh

-GoldLink on Kokamoe Freestyle

God I really want to avoid the word ‘versatile’ just because of the negative connotations associated with it now and how it’s almost a buzzword for bad artists, and, in complete honesty, GoldLink really isn’t that versatile with his rapping style, but I’m gonna make an exception here. It’s not exactly a standout trait on this album, however I did find it important that to some degree he did diversify the thematic topics of his songs and the general mood of them without straying too far from the overall sound of the album. Which allows me to transition into my next topic which is the featured artists. This is actually an aspect of the album I really enjoyed, since GoldLink almost took an unconventional approach to featured artists. I feel like I’ve used the word unconventional a lot without really explaining myself so allow me to; the features were reminiscent of the To Pimp a Butterfly features. I.e. features for the sake of the art and not for the sake of the money, which, unfortunately, happens to be unconventional in popular hip hop nowadays. There aren’t any out of place features on this project (although some may argue Shy Glizzy). It’s quite evident that GoldLink was really focused on maintaining the integrity of this album as he didn’t bring in any features that, while they might’ve increased sales, generally didn’t fit onto the album (see: Crew Remix). In total, there are 11 artists who have guest vocals on this album, 9 of which are from the DMV area (Jazmine Sullivan & Steve Lacy being the exceptions). Not only is GoldLink putting local artists on the radar despite being big enough to outsource nationally, but he’s selecting artists that suit his music style. Not only that, but a lot of his features are featured on the hook so as to save us from GoldLink’s unfortunately atrocious singing that he subjected us to on ...And After That, We Didn’t Talk. He features everyone from the necessary (Wale) to the who-the-fuck? (Lil Dude). Sometimes albums can definitely be oversaturated with features, take Coloring Book by Chance for an example. Sometimes I feel albums can be undersaturated with features, such as Issa Album by 21 Savage. So, artists often need to evaluate what they are capable of doing solo, and what necessitates the need for guest artists. GoldLink (hopefully) learned from the missteps on his past project and brought in a tasteful amount of features, some for the purpose of performing the hook, some for the purpose of providing some verses that differ from that of GoldLink’s. Wale spits an entertaining flow on Summatime, Steve Lacy provides a fitting hook on Some Girl, Shy Glizzy brings character to Crew. I felt this album in general was an excellent portrayal of the perfect amount of features, so that we hear a very good amount of GoldLink and what he has to say while also being introduced to new DMV artists and being given a nice contrast to GoldLink’s own rapping. It all ties back to the general theme of having the album truly feel like a D.C. album.

Throughout the course of the write up, I’ve gone on about how At What Cost brings you to D.C. or sounds like a D.C. album without really elaborating on it. In order to form a more complete comprehension of the sound GoldLink is borrowing from and taking inspiration from, I need to give a brief overview of the D.C. music scene from the 60s to the 90s, where the majority of GoldLink’s influences on this project would’ve came from. Perhaps the earliest direct influence on this project is that of the Go-go music scene in Washington D.C., a fusion of funk, R&B, and old school hip-hop, which was popular within the African American population of the DMV area and likely would’ve been the music GoldLink’s parents grew up on. This influence is probably the most obvious on the Hands On Your Knees interlude where Washington MC Kokayi is featured on a heavily funk & go-go inspired beat giving GoldLink an intro before the start of Meditation. This go-go influence (which is also prevalent on tracks like Summatime, Kokamoe Freestyle, and Roll Call) combined with the funk and R&B aspects on the album are essentially to achieving the goal of creating this hip hop album that brings you to D.C. sonically. I honestly wish I could go into more detail about this influence but to be honest I’m not too knowledgeable on that topic and nothing has really been written about it, so I’m going to stop this section here before I start spewing nonsense.

I believe I’ve sufficiently covered the macros of this album and explained why the album is so appealing to me, so I would now like to go into the micros and look at specific parts of the album I particularly enjoyed.

The most obvious and most popular part of the album: Crew. Crew is the first single from At What Cost and the only song from the project to chart, reaching all the way up to 45. Despite being one of the songs that fits less into the theme of the album, it is without a doubt one of the best. Brent Faiyaz, DMV R&B singer (whose project Sonder Son is excellent) kills it on one of the best hooks of 2017 and GoldLink delivers an effortless and smooth verse. Shy Glizzy, fellow D.C. native, comes through with an eccentric and exciting verse to lead back into the hook and outro. Another personal favorite of mine is Roll Call featuring legendary D.C. singer Mya. This song has one of the heaviest go-go influences with the bouncy bassline and the almost nostalgic symphonic post-hook breakdown. Mya delivers an excellent hook, singing “so no matter where I go around the world it’s back to D.C.” as GoldLink nails down the consistent sound on this project. GoldLink goes solo on Kokamoe Freestyle where he gets to put his bars and flow on display, not stopping throughout his one, long, hookless verse. This song contains probably some of my favorite bars of the entire album. Finally, we have the Steve Lacy produced Some Girl, which is my favorite track on the entire album. Steve Lacy killed the production on this song that paired with GoldLink’s mellow bars perfectly. Lacy delivers an excellent, softly-sung hook to contrast GoldLink’s energetic rapping. I literally cannot find anywhere who the girl on this track is (even Genius has her as ‘female’), but she comes in near the end of the song to join GoldLink in a sung “I don’t know why I care about ya, care about ya / I don’t wanna motherfucking care about ya, care about ya,” a duo of lines we can all relate to. Lacy switches up the beat at the end to provide a perfect intro to the outro track, Pray Everyday.

I’ve truly loved this project straight from first listen. Somehow, despite repeated and repeated listens, it just doesn’t get old. GoldLink has shot from someone I didn’t even know existed to one of my favorite hip hop artists. To me, this album has very few flaws. It’s such a smooth and thorough listen with a unique and captivating theme combined with the swagger that oozes from GoldLink’s rapping, and the light and groovy production, combined with a stellar array of features handpicked from the DMV. From the classic braggadocious lines to more reflective bars, GoldLink delivers an excellent performance on this project and will keep me interested in everything he does from this point forward. I hope that everyone can come to love this album as much as I do and appreciate the very subtle theme incorporated into it, and if not, just appreciate some of the smooth and relaxing tracks. If anything, acknowledge GoldLink’s different take on hip hop and taking the path less traveled in order to create an album that is unique and individual, because that is how GoldLink succeeded at making At What Cost my album of the year.

Favorite Lyrics

Ridin' 'round and my car's low, nigga, what you waitin' for?

Big dick in her tonsils, yeah, I got a big ego, hoe

Ridin' 'round and my bitch high and grip her thighs, I might fuck that right

Wildin' out, I might make her mine, might fuck around, I might blow her high

“Same Clothes as Yesterday”

I was out Clay Terrace, feelin' better than all the guys

Bad white joined, fat ass hips and thighs

Talkin' 'bout kill moe, all you do is lie

I ain't lyin' when I tell you that you fine as wine

Lemme get a lil' sip, lemme get a lil' bit

Lemme grab on your ass, I mean grab you the gas

Talkin' 'bout goddamn

Have you seen that girl?

“Have You Seen That Girl”

I got a light-skinned bitch who look like Beige Loaf

And she fight and fuck me in the same clothes

But when I put that daddy, baby daddy, papa stroke

She curl her toes and close her eyes

I finish up, she adios

“Meditation”

Aye, she call me on her early, she yearnin' for it from California

I don't got no girlfriend, but got some workers in California

I be in that Rover with cannabis, California

And I be the prince of my city, bitch, where my Apollonia?

Wale on “Summatime”

She see money all around me

I look like I'm the man, yeah

But I was down and out like last week

Tell me where have you been?

You came out of hiding, girl

Don't act like I'm your man

You just a fan, you don't hold rank

Don't hold no rank

Brent Faiyaz on “Crew”

DMV nigga, hunnid niggas under ya

Leggin', leggin', leggin', third leggin' with my peers

Rappin' ass nigga, but I'm quiet when I'm here

I'm always plottin' on a bitch, pretend I'm plottin' on my fears

“Kokamoe Freestyle”

Met her in the summer, started with a kiss

And she fucked so good that I had to flood her wrist

Two days in and I wanna have her kid

Then she told me she belong to the city and her boy

“Some Girl”

Discussion

How did you feel about the production on this project? Should GoldLink stay with some variation of it on his next project or change it up?

Did you find the project too feature heavy or was it just right?

Where do you rank this album in GoldLink’s discography?

What’s your favorite song on the album?

What significance do you think the title has?

What direction do you want to see GoldLink go next?

Is this newfound fame from “Crew” sustainable? Can GoldLink make himself a household name in the rap community?

Thanks for reading! If you haven’t already, please check out this album!

Artist: GoldLinkAlbum: At What CostLabel: RCA RecordsRelease Date: March 24, 2017Listen:SpotifyYouTubeApple MusicTidalSoundcloudBackgroundDespite being among the most populous metro areas in the United States, Washington D.C. has yet to make a name for itself within the hip hop genre. While it has seen its share of homegrown rappers make it big, the DMV area is still a young and growing region in the hip hop community.Enter GoldLink, né D’Anthony Carlos, a rapper/singer/songwriter from the aforementioned DMV area who, on March 24th, released his third full length project and his first under a major record label titled At What Cost. GoldLink released his 2014 mixtape The God Complex under a shadow of anonymity, not revealing his real name or face. This project then went on become excellently received by critics and fans alike, earning him a spot on the 2015 XXL Freshman List. Using his position as a freshman as momentum, in November 2015 GoldLink released his 2nd mixtape titled ...And After That, We Didn’t Talk. This spur of releases was followed by a little bit of radio silence by GoldLink throughout the better part of 2016, which was broken by the release of a single featuring Brent Faiyaz and Shy Glizzy titled Crew, which peaked at 45 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart. After the release of another single titled Meditation in March, it was announced that GoldLink’s debut studio album At What Cost would be released later that month.GoldLink’s artistic direction seemed to almost be up in the air for this album. The God Complex was this fast, energetic upbeat project from a new artist that displayed rays of potential. This was followed by a more romance-centric And After That, We Didn’t Talk that seemed to tap into more R&B sounds as we saw the once-exciting rapper take a more chill turn, so the expectations for At What Cost were almost non-existent. After all, it would be only his 3rd full length project, and with so much left to explore in terms of artistry, the possibilities were endless. At What Cost became GoldLink’s coming of age, his realization of where he should be as an artist, and it was an appealing location indeed.ReviewI would like the preface this write up by saying that upon the release of this album, I had never listened to any work of GoldLink’s. I had never heard his previous projects, I hadn’t heard any praise or criticisms of him on any platform, I hadn’t even heard his XXL Freshman Cypher. So, coming into this album I was subjected to no personal or exterior biases, and my choice to listen to this album was solely due to the fact that the cover looked cool. Yep, that’s how I came to meet my album of the year. Whether or not my clean slate of pure lack of prejudice upon first listen of this album affected my reception of this project positively or negatively could be a topic of debate, however I feel my open mindedness towards this, or any album for that matter, allows for a more honest and pure consumption of a musical project. Perhaps my expectations, or lack thereof, were skewed by GoldLink’s professional name which may have subconsciously led me to believe that the album I was about to indulge in was more towards the subcategory of gangster rap, a conception that the album art would have supported. However, despite my blind entry into an unfamiliar artist’s album, I was without a doubt pleasantly surprised by the content with which I was met.What stood out to me most after my first listen was how quickly I fell in love with the project. Usually projects take ample time for me to truly appreciate them in any aspect, yet after first listen I found myself desiring to return to the album again and again, which I would argue is largely thanks to the production on the project. While GoldLink himself obviously isn’t doing the production, in reference to the project as a whole, the production was thoroughly enjoyable, consistent, and most importantly: fun. When I say fun I’m not referring to Lil Yachty “just having fun”, I mean it’s the kind of production that makes an album fun to listen to. It’s what provides immense replay value, it’s what gets you moving, and instrumentation is a huge part of music so it really plays a big role into the creation of a good album. GoldLink seemed to take a somewhat unconventional, risky approach to the production on this project and it paid off. The choice of production was perfect for pairing with the nature of the album and I felt perfectly helped emphasize the theme GoldLink was trying to convey on this album. GoldLink brings in an elite array of producers for this album, such as Kaytranada, Matt Martians of the Internet and Odd Future, Steve Lacy, and Syk Sense. This collection of well-established producers became the architects of this D.C. album GoldLink had envisioned and incorporated aspects of 70s disco and funk music (Kaytranada especially) that were essential to GoldLink’s attempt to bring the listener to the District of Columbia through the power of his music.Perhaps my favorite example of the production on this album is that of Meditation featuring Philadelphia’s Jazmine Sullivan as well as the aforementioned Kaytranada on production. This track catapults off from the vibrant 70s-esque interlude that is Hands On Your Knees as Kaytranada samples his own track off his 99.9% mixtape and creates what was the second single off of the album. I am absolutely infatuated by how amazing the production from Kaytra was on this track. It starts off with light and airy synth chords which sets itself up for the distinctive bassline of the track. This track is the most perfect embodiment of the production of the album. The funky, light, happy, upbeat, beat on this song is really what helps GoldLink pack a punch with his music. I feel like the best word to describe it would be groovy, but I know that sounds sort of cliché when speaking about hip hop. Potentially my favorite thing about this style of production is that the possibilities are endless, and GoldLink definitely exploits this trait on this project. The ability to create a cohesive album where every song is clearly distinguishable is something hip hop artists strive for, and on At What Cost it was almost seamless for GoldLink. Even on the song Herside Story, originally a Hare Squead song where GoldLink had merely added rapping, it blends unsuspectingly into the album like it was there in the first place and GoldLink manages to improve an already great song with his additional verses. This is just a general description of the sensory feel of the album if no thought was given to any particular aspect, despite my numerous praises of the production. Overall, I felt the album was very well constructed and felt very fluid throughout. These aspects seem to be underappreciated or seldomly mentioned when referencing hip hop music yet play a massive role in the overall enjoyment of a given project.I haven’t even touched on GoldLink himself yet, and to the unfamiliar reader this write-up could almost be interpreted as an in depth review of a beat tape. But bear with me here, there does happen to be rap on this rap album. One striking thing to me about GoldLink’s rap style (on this project at the very least) is that GoldLink raps exactly like you’d think he raps if you were to just look at him. Maybe I’m grasping at straws here, but GoldLink’s rapping is similar to his appearance in the sense that they’re both mellow-yet-confident. Surprisingly enough, GoldLink isn’t even the first person rapping on his own album. That title belongs to fellow D.C. rapper Ciscero on the track Same Clothes As Yesterday. However, GoldLink’s entrance to this album feels almost cinematic. In fact, there’s something about how this entire album is constructed that makes it feel cinematic. GoldLink manages to build anticipation for his big debut on At What Cost, with the Opening Credit intro followed by the transition into Same Clothes as well as Ciscero’s verse. And without a doubt, GoldLink capitalizes on the anticipation, while spitting these amusing bars after he performs the hook:Ridin' 'round and my car's low, nigga, what you waitin' for?Big dick in her tonsils, yeah, I got a big ego, hoeRidin' 'round and my bitch high and grip her thighs, I might fuck that rightWildin' out, I might make her mine, might fuck around, I might blow her high-GoldLink on Same Clothes As YesterdayGoing back to my cinematic point, this entrance and first lines by GoldLink really makes you feel like you’re at a concert. That’s how good of a job he does at building anticipation and then making that big arrival like the main act does at a big show. This is the kind of sentiment you want to receive when you’re listening to an album, you want that grand feeling when listening to music, after all in my opinion I don’t think music is very good if it doesn’t provoke some sort of emotion from you, the emotion here being the resulting excitement from an energy crescendo. This aspect isn’t exclusive to GoldLink of course, it’s a pretty common practice in hip hop to give an album a somewhat movie-like delivery, and in good reason. It’s very effective at creating an album that is truly fun and interesting to listen to front to back. It’s this cinema-effect that GoldLink uses to transport you to Washington D.C. through his music. This was demonstrated very tastefully with the ending to Meditation and the transition to Herside Story - that being the “oh shit!” followed by the gunshots and ensuite the light intro to the dreamlike Herside Story. The concluding track Pray Everyday really captures this concept in what almost seems like the roll credits of the album, and even with the transformation to the light and happy Have You Seen That Girl? at the beginning of the album to the more hopelessly romantic Some Girl near the conclusion. This allows GoldLink to create the illusion that, despite there being no underlying theme or story, it almost feels as if there is.Going back to the the mellow-yet-confident rapping style, GoldLink’s flow and delivery on this project are really what pulls everything all together. After all, there is absolutely nothing on At What Cost that could at all salvage its album of the year status if GoldLink’s performance fell short. There’s something so satisfying and melodic about the flows used on this project, it almost gives the feeling of comfort and relaxation. GoldLink has a deep, smooth voice that he uses to his advantage when accompanying his cloudy intoxicating production and every line on this album seems effortless (in the good sense). GoldLink flows in this cohesive stream of words that provides an easy listen while simultaneously bringing personality and charisma to every track. Probably the best analogy I can come up with to GoldLink’s rap style is that he raps as if he’s gonna smoke the whole squad out on blunts but will still kick your ass if you don’t puff-puff-pass. He contrasts these two elements pretty clearly if you were to compare the tracks Have You Seen That Girl? and Kokamoe Freestyle.We shot a nigga at the go-go last weekWe don't really care who got shot last weekRidin' up the meter, plug 'ya village bumpin' MigosI'm past shit, you don't want no problems with a GEDPeep G, I'm the king of the streetsI never had to struggle with the gangs in a beefAlways ten toes so it's hard to defeatAnd trust me nigga, I been lookin' hard for a beat, huh-GoldLink on Kokamoe FreestyleGod I really want to avoid the word ‘versatile’ just because of the negative connotations associated with it now and how it’s almost a buzzword for bad artists, and, in complete honesty, GoldLink really isn’t that versatile with his rapping style, but I’m gonna make an exception here. It’s not exactly a standout trait on this album, however I did find it important that to some degree he did diversify the thematic topics of his songs and the general mood of them without straying too far from the overall sound of the album. Which allows me to transition into my next topic which is the featured artists. This is actually an aspect of the album I really enjoyed, since GoldLink almost took an unconventional approach to featured artists. I feel like I’ve used the word unconventional a lot without really explaining myself so allow me to; the features were reminiscent of the To Pimp a Butterfly features. I.e. features for the sake of the art and not for the sake of the money, which, unfortunately, happens to be unconventional in popular hip hop nowadays. There aren’t any out of place features on this project (although some may argue Shy Glizzy). It’s quite evident that GoldLink was really focused on maintaining the integrity of this album as he didn’t bring in any features that, while they might’ve increased sales, generally didn’t fit onto the album (see: Crew Remix). In total, there are 11 artists who have guest vocals on this album, 9 of which are from the DMV area (Jazmine Sullivan & Steve Lacy being the exceptions). Not only is GoldLink putting local artists on the radar despite being big enough to outsource nationally, but he’s selecting artists that suit his music style. Not only that, but a lot of his features are featured on the hook so as to save us from GoldLink’s unfortunately atrocious singing that he subjected us to on ...And After That, We Didn’t Talk. He features everyone from the necessary (Wale) to the who-the-fuck? (Lil Dude). Sometimes albums can definitely be oversaturated with features, take Coloring Book by Chance for an example. Sometimes I feel albums can be undersaturated with features, such as Issa Album by 21 Savage. So, artists often need to evaluate what they are capable of doing solo, and what necessitates the need for guest artists. GoldLink (hopefully) learned from the missteps on his past project and brought in a tasteful amount of features, some for the purpose of performing the hook, some for the purpose of providing some verses that differ from that of GoldLink’s. Wale spits an entertaining flow on Summatime, Steve Lacy provides a fitting hook on Some Girl, Shy Glizzy brings character to Crew. I felt this album in general was an excellent portrayal of the perfect amount of features, so that we hear a very good amount of GoldLink and what he has to say while also being introduced to new DMV artists and being given a nice contrast to GoldLink’s own rapping. It all ties back to the general theme of having the album truly feel like a D.C. album.Throughout the course of the write up, I’ve gone on about how At What Cost brings you to D.C. or sounds like a D.C. album without really elaborating on it. In order to form a more complete comprehension of the sound GoldLink is borrowing from and taking inspiration from, I need to give a brief overview of the D.C. music scene from the 60s to the 90s, where the majority of GoldLink’s influences on this project would’ve came from. Perhaps the earliest direct influence on this project is that of the Go-go music scene in Washington D.C., a fusion of funk, R&B, and old school hip-hop, which was popular within the African American population of the DMV area and likely would’ve been the music GoldLink’s parents grew up on. This influence is probably the most obvious on the Hands On Your Knees interlude where Washington MC Kokayi is featured on a heavily funk & go-go inspired beat giving GoldLink an intro before the start of Meditation. This go-go influence (which is also prevalent on tracks like Summatime, Kokamoe Freestyle, and Roll Call) combined with the funk and R&B aspects on the album are essentially to achieving the goal of creating this hip hop album that brings you to D.C. sonically. I honestly wish I could go into more detail about this influence but to be honest I’m not too knowledgeable on that topic and nothing has really been written about it, so I’m going to stop this section here before I start spewing nonsense.I believe I’ve sufficiently covered the macros of this album and explained why the album is so appealing to me, so I would now like to go into the micros and look at specific parts of the album I particularly enjoyed.The most obvious and most popular part of the album: Crew. Crew is the first single from At What Cost and the only song from the project to chart, reaching all the way up to 45. Despite being one of the songs that fits less into the theme of the album, it is without a doubt one of the best. Brent Faiyaz, DMV R&B singer (whose project Sonder Son is excellent) kills it on one of the best hooks of 2017 and GoldLink delivers an effortless and smooth verse. Shy Glizzy, fellow D.C. native, comes through with an eccentric and exciting verse to lead back into the hook and outro. Another personal favorite of mine is Roll Call featuring legendary D.C. singer Mya. This song has one of the heaviest go-go influences with the bouncy bassline and the almost nostalgic symphonic post-hook breakdown. Mya delivers an excellent hook, singing “so no matter where I go around the world it’s back to D.C.” as GoldLink nails down the consistent sound on this project. GoldLink goes solo on Kokamoe Freestyle where he gets to put his bars and flow on display, not stopping throughout his one, long, hookless verse. This song contains probably some of my favorite bars of the entire album. Finally, we have the Steve Lacy produced Some Girl, which is my favorite track on the entire album. Steve Lacy killed the production on this song that paired with GoldLink’s mellow bars perfectly. Lacy delivers an excellent, softly-sung hook to contrast GoldLink’s energetic rapping. I literally cannot find anywhere who the girl on this track is (even Genius has her as ‘female’), but she comes in near the end of the song to join GoldLink in a sung “I don’t know why I care about ya, care about ya / I don’t wanna motherfucking care about ya, care about ya,” a duo of lines we can all relate to. Lacy switches up the beat at the end to provide a perfect intro to the outro track, Pray Everyday.I’ve truly loved this project straight from first listen. Somehow, despite repeated and repeated listens, it just doesn’t get old. GoldLink has shot from someone I didn’t even know existed to one of my favorite hip hop artists. To me, this album has very few flaws. It’s such a smooth and thorough listen with a unique and captivating theme combined with the swagger that oozes from GoldLink’s rapping, and the light and groovy production, combined with a stellar array of features handpicked from the DMV. From the classic braggadocious lines to more reflective bars, GoldLink delivers an excellent performance on this project and will keep me interested in everything he does from this point forward. I hope that everyone can come to love this album as much as I do and appreciate the very subtle theme incorporated into it, and if not, just appreciate some of the smooth and relaxing tracks. If anything, acknowledge GoldLink’s different take on hip hop and taking the path less traveled in order to create an album that is unique and individual, because that is how GoldLink succeeded at making At What Cost my album of the year.Favorite LyricsRidin' 'round and my car's low, nigga, what you waitin' for?Big dick in her tonsils, yeah, I got a big ego, hoeRidin' 'round and my bitch high and grip her thighs, I might fuck that rightWildin' out, I might make her mine, might fuck around, I might blow her high“Same Clothes as Yesterday”I was out Clay Terrace, feelin' better than all the guysBad white joined, fat ass hips and thighsTalkin' 'bout kill moe, all you do is lieI ain't lyin' when I tell you that you fine as wineLemme get a lil' sip, lemme get a lil' bitLemme grab on your ass, I mean grab you the gasTalkin' 'bout goddamnHave you seen that girl?“Have You Seen That Girl”I got a light-skinned bitch who look like Beige LoafAnd she fight and fuck me in the same clothesBut when I put that daddy, baby daddy, papa strokeShe curl her toes and close her eyesI finish up, she adios“Meditation”Aye, she call me on her early, she yearnin' for it from CaliforniaI don't got no girlfriend, but got some workers in CaliforniaI be in that Rover with cannabis, CaliforniaAnd I be the prince of my city, bitch, where my Apollonia?Wale on “Summatime”She see money all around meI look like I'm the man, yeahBut I was down and out like last weekTell me where have you been?You came out of hiding, girlDon't act like I'm your manYou just a fan, you don't hold rankDon't hold no rankBrent Faiyaz on “Crew”DMV nigga, hunnid niggas under yaLeggin', leggin', leggin', third leggin' with my peersRappin' ass nigga, but I'm quiet when I'm hereI'm always plottin' on a bitch, pretend I'm plottin' on my fears“Kokamoe Freestyle”Met her in the summer, started with a kissAnd she fucked so good that I had to flood her wristTwo days in and I wanna have her kidThen she told me she belong to the city and her boy“Some Girl”DiscussionHow did you feel about the production on this project? Should GoldLink stay with some variation of it on his next project or change it up?Did you find the project too feature heavy or was it just right?Where do you rank this album in GoldLink’s discography?What’s your favorite song on the album?What significance do you think the title has?What direction do you want to see GoldLink go next?Is this newfound fame from “Crew” sustainable? Can GoldLink make himself a household name in the rap community?Thanks for reading! If you haven’t already, please check out this album!