#for Armand who can reach right down into the core of it all it’s as familiar as it is simple

[lestatmorelikeletsnot]

The implication of Armand, who reads minds as easily as if it were breathing, finally bringing Louis to where Lestat was as a last ditch attempt to get Louis to feel something. And leaving afterwards because he knew that if that didn’t work, nothing would.

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with LUCIEN, who is THIRTY-SEVEN years old. He is often called LAMPRIUS and is NEUTRAL. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.

Lucien’s beginning would be a familiar one, were he willing to share it with the masses. He grew up with little to his name and took what he could when it was given. Those with the gilded crests sitting at their throats feasted on sweetmeats and REVELED in their predetermined fates. Lucien, meanwhile, carved out his own path with nothing to use beyond his own two hands and words of assurance that things would work themselves out. If he dedicated himself, he’d find a decent job and live a meager life, like them. He kept his head down, said little beyond what was needed, let his actions do the talking. Still, the SHADOWS of the mobs nipped at his heels day after day, as they did every other Veronan, until their relentlessness reached a peak. He can remember it clearly, even now: his mother had collapsed in their small kitchen and wept at the news of her husband’s passing. A casualty of crossfire between two notorious families. She’d looked so... FRAGILE. When he settled down beside her and shared her tears, he’d felt just as small. He’d been seventeen, no more than a boy, but when he stood, he rose as a man, head held high. Verona would change - for his family, and all the others like his.

There were a few problems, in spite of his grand designs: he had no clue where to begin. He had the will, but not the way, and Verona itself had other plans. Three, to be exact. THE WITCHES were bound to find him one day, looking back, and find him they did. He’d always been unsure as to how they did it. Was it an unwitting conversation with Circe? Had he wronged Medea, somehow, who took pity? Maybe he’d shouldered into Hecate and spilled their groceries across the cobblestone. Whichever way they discovered him, they saw an opportunity in him, his shoulders sloped from the weight of REVENGE. Lucien, at first, didn’t see them at all. Everyone knew about the Capulets and Montagues. The Witches were MYTH to him, up until they weren’t. When they offered, not insignificantly, to take him under their wing, their anonymity is what bound him to them. That, and the fact they never shied away from those who could not bear the burden of living in a city torn apart by war. They didn’t turn their faces from those who waged it, either. They dealt in absolutes, and it was those dealings that kept Verona’s innocents from their demise. 

He’d soon learn that the work of the Witches was often UGLY, comprised of hushed meetings and ears pressed to the ground, but their secrecy garnered them their reputation and power. At the same time, they taught Lucien how to hold himself, how to mask his resentment for the very men and women they negotiated with behind a neutral expression. They taught him to bury Lucien and compartmentalize his own humanity until nothing but a hollow shell remained - it was the only way to work with BEASTS, after all. They gave him the title of Lamprius, and the reassured him that he, too, would one day become a full-fledged Witch, should he prove worthy. He threw himself into the tasks they gave him fully, carried himself the way they did, imitated the pinch of their brows and flat lines of their mouths when something displeased them. Things settled, and for the first time in years, Lucien was loose from his self-imposed sorrows. He got married, moved into a house grander than one he could ever dream of. He ate a full meal every night, and paid off his mother’s medical debt up until her passing. He traveled outside of Italy, attended galas, saw the ocean, perfected his smile in the mirror. He helped broker peace from the shadows, and when the Witches felt unstoppable in the face of their Gods, so did he. Maybe that’s what caused their ruination. ARROGANCE. They considered themselves above humanity, the same as Ozymandias. It still aches to think of them, an open wound at the center of his chest, but perhaps their deaths were inevitable. Maybe they’d known - each of them had been disconcertingly cryptic in those final days, as they pushed all of their responsibilities onto Lucien - no, Lamprius - with the promise that it would all be settled, soon.

How wrong they were. While the Witches had done their utmost to turn him away from walking the single-minded path of retribution, their deaths were the nail in the coffin. Their bodies swinging from the beams served as a final message: Lucien’s initial goal, all those years ago, was not out of reach. But he couldn’t do it alone. Circe, Hecate, and Medea had themselves to turn to in times of much-needed counsel. They leaned on one another in moments of weakness and stirred each other on when the task at hand felt insurmountable. They loved each other, as all siblings should have, up until their final day. And Lucien… had no one. In a city of more than two hundred and fifty thousand, he was truly ALONE - and that wouldn’t do. But if he played his cards right, this could go exactly the way he wanted it to. He needed allies, like-minded individuals, soldiers on either side of the war who were willing to listen if he greased their palms. Equipped with every resource and asset the Witches had come to collect over the years, he’d become unstoppable. They wouldn’t have to learn to fear Lucien, because the Montagues and Capulets would never know he was there until it was too late. They’d learn to beware Lamprius the Soothsayer, and he’d soon knot the rope around their necks the same way they had done to his beloved Witches. Not for himself, but for them.

RONAN IVARSSON: Husband. Lucien isn’t stupid. He’s aware he’s married to an empty vessel, carrying around a meaningless ring he never removes. There might have been love, in those early days, but Ronan has no heart in him -- only pride and hubris. He is a miserable coward to Lucien’s face and thinks himself the clever fox when he turns away, landing blow after punitive blow to Lucien’s reputation and pride. Lucien’s tolerated it for years, because he knows at his core that his husband will never change, no matter how many times Ronan convinces himself he will. He’s taken every rumor and slight in stride, laughed off casual insults at the outskirts of gatherings while Ronan garnered all the attention he could get at the center of the room. Their dynamic had shifted after his mother’s passing, a death that damn near broke Lucien, but things are slowly reverting to the way they were before -- and it’s strange, to miss the humanity in Ronan when he’s only really gotten a glimpse of it firsthand, a peek behind the curtain. In spite of that, if his husband has one true redeeming quality, he has come when Lucien called for him, every time, like a loyal dog. They are tied to each other, and Lucien isn’t going to be the one to cut the rope.

LORETTA DELLUCI: Kindred spirit. In Loretta, he sees a mirror image -- someone who’s danced the same steps as him, caught at her collar by the long-fingered hands of death. Saving her life was no mere coincidence; it was an orchestrated part of a thousand-step plan on his part, one that went better than he ever could have asked it to. Even better: he’s almost entirely sure that she has no idea it was him who hired the burglar in the first place. He’s inching towards outright asking for aid, but she’s just as enigmatic as he is, perhaps even more difficult to pin down. In moments where their conversations over tea lapse into silence, it’s difficult to tell if her goals align with his. Her words say as much, but the brimstone burning behind her eyes says otherwise. Either way, he considers himself lucky to have her as a friend. They’re hard to come by, in Verona, and Lady Anne doesn’t shy away from what she wants until she gets it -- that’s exactly the sort of partner he needs.

ARMAND GIORDANO: Opening. Ajax defines blind loyalty. He stands with a straight spine and rigid shoulders and goes by a name that is not his own just because it’s the one thing keeping him safe in a city of monsters that walk freely during the day. But he’s not loyal to the Montagues; it’s only Roman who has his attention, and that sort of single-minded dedication can be used, if Lucien sets the pieces up on the board correctly. He’s already made the effort to have a conversation or two at parties and balls, when his gaze is not wholly on Roman, and in spite of his stony expression and down-set brow, Ajax has listened. Lucien’s determined that it’s only a matter of time before he breaks through to him, or until Ajax reaches his breaking point and tires of being treated like a statue rather than a man.

HARLEY BRENTON: Opportunity. Harley thinks she’s grown from the child she used to be, but Lucien knows better than that. He can see the craving in her for something more, sees the way she looks at Hazel Accardi -- because he knows everything there is to know about these soldiers who run themselves ragged for men that just don’t care. He can see in Harley the naive want for love, for peace. He might have felt the same way, a long time ago, when he thought the world was true and honest and his dedication to his own husband was not just a facsimile of emotion. He’s taken the first few crucial steps to roping her in to the plan, because while she’s loyal to the Capulets, she has loyalties on the other side of the river and hasn’t done her utmost to hide it. He can’t tell if it’s because she doesn’t fear the consequences or if she hasn’t yet realized the full weight of her actions, but when the time comes, he’ll protect her and pick up another pawn from the board.

Lucien is portrayed by SUNG HOON and was written by JULIE. He is currently TAKEN by REY.

[pcygoldenchild]

CEO; the C is for Cunt

✨summary: Baekhyun...you mean Mr. B, was somehow always making you perplexed. You never understood why until he got you alone exposing your own secrets to yourself.

✨warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, sexual intercourse

PART 1

You were in Mr. Byun’s house. Like actually in it. And not as an assistant or anything work related. The house was bigger than you expected but very Baekhyun. Although now you weren’t so sure who Baekhyun was. He completely caught you off guard earlier and all you could think about all day was him. And how he knew everything in your journal. Which was embarrassing enough to make you quit but he wouldn’t let you even if you tried.

“Must be thinking hard.” he said startling you. You were sitting on the couch while he went to grab wine or champagne. Whatever it was, you had no clue just knew it was a super fancy long name; Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades Rose. Baekhyun’s style.

“What?” you said. You didn’t realize he came back and felt a little embarrassed. Seems to be a common emotion today.

“I’ve called you 3 times while I was standing here and you just stared off into space. What’s on your mind?” he laughed giving you a glass. You took it and let him pour you the expensive looking champagne in a pink bottle. You shrugged your shoulders and took a sip. Taste was exquisitely expensive, of course.

“Maybe I can guess.” he smirked taking a sip. He got up and went to his bag and came back with your journal. He opened it up to a page it looked like he bookmarked.

“Today I had another meeting with Baekhyun. He wore a white suit shirt but no jacket and rolled the sleeves. It’s like he does it on purpose. His arms and hands are so perfect. Imagine going to sleep in his arms and his hands all over you. It’s like dreamland or some shit. But he kept doing this thing with his mouth. His fingers would rub over his bottom lip from time to time while he looked so concentrated. It was fucking hot. But then he’d pout his lips when he was confused. If duality were a person, it would be that fucker. The things I’d do to those lips. He’s probably the most amazing at eating pussy. I’d let him eat my pussy any day.”

As he read, a little bit more of your self chipped away. His smirk as he read your stupid journal made you even more embarrassed. The cushion of this expensive couch could swallow you whole for all you cared. When he was done reading he skimmed over it again before closing it and looking back up at you. You looked away fast and thought to drown yourself in the sweet champagne.

“I’m curious, what would you do with these lips?” he smirked. You rolled your eyes and played with your hands in your lap. Why was this so hard? You could write it down but the minute he asks you, you freeze.

“All kinds of things.” you whispered. That was pathetic.

“Such as?” he laughed. He took your shyness as a game and you were just dying of embarrassment.

“Why do I have to say when you can just read the stupid journal?” you whined. He smiled at you and stood up to stand in front of you. You looked up at him and watched him in all his glory.

“I’d rather hear it from your lips.” he said as he unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt. You watched him intently and his action made you notice something.

“You are such an asshole. You tease me on purpose. You do the little things that get under my skin on purpose. Well you know what? I know what gets under your skin. All those words in that journal are true. I’d love to have your lips on my clit. Your lips would be eating me out everyday if it were my way. And the thought of doing anything to me drives you crazy doesn’t it? I’m not the only one here who should be feeling frustrated.” you ranted. You were standing now face to face with an attentive Baekhyun. He stood and listened never once opening his mouth until you were done. He licked his bottom lip and nibbled on it. Cocky son of a bitch is really difficult.

“I’m very frustrated. I’ve been frustrated everyday for the past 3 years. You don’t get to talk about frustration. If I had it my way, you’d have been mine from the beginning but you’re very stubborn and would rather write your feelings in a journal than make a move.” he said staring down at you. You didn’t move, didn’t look away from his face. You were in shock. What was happening?

“Frustrated? Tuh. You want to know frustrated sweetheart? This is my frustration of three years.” he said taking your hand and putting it on his extremely hard cock. You flinched once you felt it twitch in your hand. You could feel the blood rushing veins through his pants. He was so incredibly hard and big you swallowed in anticipation.

“Now, back to my question. My lips?” he said squatting down. His hands found home on your knees than you parted slightly yourself without him asking. Your hand guided his hand up your thigh and under your skirt to your core. You were sure he could feel how warm your hand was and how much warmer your pussy was. He followed by bringing his other hand up your thigh to push your skirt up. His eyes traveled up your skin to your black lacy underwear.

“You have to say something. You’re so expressive in your little journal. What do I have to do to hear it from your mouth?” he said freezing to look at you. You are well aware of the fact that he felt your thigh twitch under his hand. Your resolve was breaking and there was nothing you could do at this point to stop it. He was right there and ready to do anything you asked. All you had to do was fucking say it.

“I need your lips on mine.” you whispered. But obviously it wasn’t enough for him. His eyebrow cocked and he just looked at you. The smart ass kissed your thigh right next to where you wanted him most. He smirked without look at you then got up and walked away. He just walked away. You let out a groan and ran your hands over your face. If this was going to happen you could just go home. It was no different from being in the office. But you decided maybe just be a little forward with him. Maybe that will work.

You got up and went to the kitchen where he was. He was eating grapes leaning on the counter looking like a king doing the simplest of things. He watched you sit on the other side of the island and stare at him. You were just trying to think of what to do exactly. He wasn’t making a move either. So you reached over and took a grape. Then he took one and fed it to you. Then you did the same to him. A game.

But the game was cut short when you pulled your panties off and placed them on the counter top. He leaned on his arms on the counter and stared at them. But you weren’t done. You climbed onto the counter and sat before him. His view was of you with your legs spread to him and your hands behind you holding you up. His eyes take in his meal waiting for him but he doesn’t move still.

“You’re so pretty.” is all he said before popping another grape in his mouth. You whined out of habit and felt yourself clench around nothing at an alarmingly fast rate. He stood up straight and pulled your thighs so you were at the edge of the counter.

“Do it again.” he said rubbing his thumbs into your inner thighs. His voice was low and all the tell tale signs of his frustration were evident.

So let’s skip to the good parts shall we? Your whimpers were a trigger to him obviously. And once you did it again, he did not hesitate to strip you. And within a moment he was between your legs. His lips were on you finally. And in your head all you could think of was your journal. The way his lips and tongue played with your cunt was like a dream. He was delicate but rough. He was eating you like he wanted it more than you did. And you were sure he did.

You wanted to tease him, frustrate him. You pulled his hair to make him detach from your core with a pop. You shivered at the loss of feeling but you were already this far. You closed your legs and pushed him up. He looked so adorably confused with his pouty lips covered in your juices. You had to try your hardest not to smile but it was almost impossible.

“Where are you going?” he said in the cutest fucking voice. He was usually so stern now all this cute behavior is destroying you even more.

“I’m leaving.” you lie. You were just leaving the kitchen but you wanted to make him react. Which he did.

“No.” he said grabbing your face and kissing you as a plead not to leave. So you didn’t. You weren’t going to anyways.

He seemed softer, more correct in touching and feeling you. He pushed you back against the steel fridge after pulling your skirt down. The cold surface hit your ass making you grind into him. Your hands were all over the place. Anywhere they could find place on him was where they were. But you wanted his skin and he sensed that. He pulled away from you and rid of his shirt and pants while you rid of your shirt and bra. He was back on you the instant his pants hit the floor.

“Jump.” he commanded and you did. He was surprisingly a lot stronger than you thought he’d be. He held you with ease against the refrigerator as his hips pushed against yours. His frustrated cock wanting you just as much as you wanted him inside you. You reached down between your bodies to grab him, to feel what you’ve been so boldly writing on about every day.

“Say it.” he said suddenly while his lips hovered over yours.

“Those words you wrote over and over again. You don’t have to imagine anymore. Ever.” he continued. He was obviously loving how you confessed to your journal about him. He found it cute and of course it boosted his ego. To have little old you wanting him everyday and living out your fantasies in a book. It pleased him but to an extent.

“Fuck me Baekhyun.” you whispered. His immediate moan after hearing those words made you say it again.

“Please Baekhyun. Fuck me now.” you begged. The thought of it finally happening making you needier. The chance that he stops making your hands hold his neck tighter to you. But he wasn’t going to stop; not now.

He kissed your lips with so much force your head backed into the fridge. It wasn’t hard but you rested against the coldness to heal the burning inside of you. You took the liberty of pushing his briefs down letting his cock free. You didn’t hesitate to take hold of his red tip pushing your thumb on to his slit. He moaned against your lips and you felt him shake a little. Next thing you knew you heard ripping and your underwear were pulled off you. He took your hand away from his cock and you watched him watch you taste his pre cum. He was going crazy and the noises were an indication of that.

In one smooth movement he was deep inside you. Your hole now full, extremely full, with his cock. The fit was perfect. His cock was smooth and thick. And you were so wet and warm for him.

He started thrusting without a break. He was slow for the first three but couldn’t hold himself anymore. Your hold on his shoulders tightened with every thrust. Your eye contact was lethal, you couldn’t look away from each other. The silent moans leaving your parted lips as his lips worshipped your name over and over again. His own hands gripping your thighs tighter everytime he went deeper into you. It didn’t take long to get you to the climaxing cliff.

“Come on baby. I know you want it. Cum for me. Cum all over me. Claim what’s yours.” he breathed out into your mouth. You whimpered as your stomach tightened solely from his words. Your nails dug into his skin as your eyes rolled back once your release came crashing down. Your back arched off the now warm fridge and into his chest. You weren’t one to be quiet when cumming but you literally couldn’t form words, nonetheless sounds. You came around him as he thrusted into you still. Your body shook in his hold. Your eyes pleading him to cum so you could come down from your orgasm.

“Fucking hell. Don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to savor this moment.” he moaned. Your head fell against the fridge again as your eyes shut tight because number two was coming. And this time you were welcomed with Baekhyun coming all over your stomach.

“Fuck!” he said as he pulled out of you releasing himself on your stomach. Your body shook from the aftermath of two amazing orgasms. You heard him chuckling as his lips kissed up your neck.

“What’s so funny?” you asked with a hoarse voice. You didn’t even scream not once but the silence was enough to make your throat just as hoarse.

“We haven’t even done anything in your journal yet. Looks like you’ve got some more writing to do.” he smirked.

[margueritestjust-a]

3 & 8 Percy and Marguerite

Kiss Prompts | Not Accepting, since this took me over a week

((I will be putting these under a readmore for length. They are also posted to my AO3 account. ))

3. Hesitant Kiss - The type of kiss where their lips touch a brush against each other’s a few times, breath fanning across each other’s faces as one waits for the other to make a move.  

The sea breeze, cold and salty whipped Marguerite’s darkhair back as she stepped onto the deck of the Day Dream. Her bare feet tookcare on the slick wood – even more care not to disturb Percy as she approachedhim. His back was to her and she studied his broad shoulders. Even in victory,his men and his wife safely aboard his vessel, he was not relaxed. It did notsurprise her, then, when he addressed her without looking up.

“We land in Dover soon, m’dear,” he said. “You’ll want shoesby then. What will people say if Sir Percy Blakeney let his wife run wildwithout shoes!”

Marguerite smiled.

“If I arrive without shoes, no doubt it will be high fashionby spring to do without them.”

She leaned against the side of the boat beside him, buttwisted her body so that she could see him. He seemed pensive. Though she nowknew him to be a man of deep thought and even deeper feeling, the looksurprised Marguerite nonetheless.

“All are safe – thanks to you,” she told him, touching hisarm. “There’s no need for melancholy, my darling.”

He faced her then. For a moment, his mask slipped back intoplace – the lazy smile she’d come to know so well, the cheerful, booming voice,“Melancholy? What reason has Sir Percival Blakeney, Bart. to be melancholy!Odd’s fish, milady! The sea is playing tricks on your senses, what!”

“Percy.”

His shoulders slumped – he looked smaller than his tall,muscular frame usually let him. He looked tired. But he did not speak.Marguerite bit her lip. Gingerly, her fingertips brushed his unshaven cheek andhe flinched, as if she had hot iron brands upon the pads of her fingers.Marguerite withdrew her hand.

“Percy?”

He cast his eyes to the grey waves of the English Channel.The boat sliced through them with great ease – so much so that it was onlytheir shadows, but not their reflections at the water’s surface. Margueritefollowed his gaze and tried to see what he saw in their formless shapes.

“I should have known you were no traitor,” he said. “Ishould have trusted you-“

“And I should have told you the truth in full at the start,”Marguerite countered. “I should havetrusted you.”

She looked at him and they were both silent for a longmoment. Marguerite took great pride in her arts at conversation – at charm andwit. But until Percy, the only person she had ever felt compelled to share hertruest feelings with was her dear Armand. Even then, there had been many timesMarguerite refused to burden her beloved brother with her innermost thoughts.She was an actress in all things, but most especially in daily life. Percydeserved better than that. She inhaled bracingly.

“We cannot spend the rest of our lives apologizing to oneanother,” she said. “Though, no doubt, you deserve a lifetime of apologies.”

“What, then, do you propose we do?” he asked. “For I feel Icould spend every breath apologizing to you and it would not be enough.”

She reached for him again. Reluctantly, her allowed her toplace her hand against his cheek. The warmth of his skin seeped into her coldfingers. She gasped. Just a little. Just enough for him to turn his head. Aquestion formed upon his lips but hers silenced it with just the barest oftouches. First her thumb ghosted over his lips. Electric, lingering. Then, gently,almost timidly, she kissed him. How tempting it would be to lose herself in thefeeling of his skin, the rush of warmth he gave off, the taste of his breath-!But her eyes flickered open after a fraction of a second. She withdrew. Herhand still rested upon his cheek, even as she looked away.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For everything. Oh, Percy, Ishouldn’t have even-“

But his hand came to rest upon her cheek. He turned her headever so slightly.

“Nonsense, m’dear,” he said. His voice was quiet – nothingmore than a whisper. “You said it yourself: we cannot send the rest of ourlives apologizing to one another.”

He leaned forward, still radiating warmth, and his lipshovered quite near Marguerite’s. She tilted her head upwards – perhaps allowedhim to lift her chin.

“How then—“ Marguerite shivered – whether from cold ordelight or dizzying anticipation, she could not say. “– do you propose we spendthe rest of our lives?”

“Perhaps like this, madam.”

And then without another word, Percy kissed her.

8. Breathtaking Kiss - It’s the kiss that you can’t do anything for a few seconds after, you keep your eyes closed with mouth agape of you try to let your mind process what happened.

The game of cat and mouse began when Sir Percival Blakeney,Bart. arrived late to his wife’s birthday party. Whispers buzzed about the roomas his arrival was announced. Lady Blakeney watched him, seemingly frozen, ashe descended the steps into the ballroom. Her expression was unreadable as herhusband crossed the room with his arms full of roses.

“Forgive the delay, m’dear,” he said. “I was scouring everyflorist in London for flowers befitting such occasion and I quite lost track ofthe time!”

Lady Blakeney gingerly accepted the bouquet of crimson rosesfrom him and she took a petal between her finger and thumb. She stroked thevelvet soft flower. Her full lips pursed and then twitched to a smile. Shestopped looking at the rose bouquet, but at her husband, with his impeccable,pastel suit.

“How clever of you, Sir Percy,’ she said. “To have broughtthe one flower that can melt my heart.”

“Sink me if I don’t know what it is my wife wants for herbirthday!” he said with his silly, little laugh. “Take note, lads!”

Laughter rippled across the ballroom. A servant came to takethe flowers to put them in water. But when Lady Blakeney turned to face herhusband once more, she saw that as the orchestra began to play again, he wascornered by men and women who had missed his bright presence at the party. Fora moment, Lady Blakeney seemed as if she might join their little group, but thevoice of a guest – a handsome young viscount – asking her to dance pulled heraway before she could decide.

Percy was not due home in time for Marguerite’s birthday. Infact, Marguerite did not anticipate him home until that Friday – at thesoonest. It was not always an easy trip from London to Paris and back,especially not with things being the way they were. She often had nightmares ofhis head upon Madame Guillotine’s chopping block. All for the sake ofstrangers. She wondered what it was he had done with the refugees from France –if they would fade into the glittery guest list of her party or if, morelikely, they’d been escorted around the back by the servants and taken up toguest quarters to change and bathe and rest. She only allowed herself a momentto wonder about the rescued before her mind – and eyes – once more wandered tothe rescuer. He filled his part well. He filled every role he played well. But tonight, he was nothing more thanthe foppish fool she called a husband to the public’s eyes. Or so it seemed. Asshe danced, Marguerite managed to make eye contact with Percy for the fleetestof seconds. There was something dark and cunning and uninhibited there that seta shiver of delight straight to her core. Her dance partner seemed oblivious ofthe cause, but was gallant enough to ask if Lady Blakeney needed some air. Shehazarded another glance over at Percy. His trapezoidal quizzing glass, usuallybrandished about as he entertained, currently rested between his lips, ever soslightly. Marguerite tore her eyes away. She ground her teeth and then manageda faint smile at her companion.

“Some fresh air, I think,” she said. She could use the coolnight air to stead herself. The viscount offered to accompany her and, in factwalked her down the steps leading to the veranda. However, once she steadiedherself against the banister, she sorely wished the man would melt into theflagstones or – at the very least – rejoin the party. She shut her eyes, buteach time she dared to, she imagined that the figure hovering at her shoulderwas not a worried acquaintance, but her husband. She imagined a hand upon hershoulder or fingers brushing her neck, cradling her chin. But when Margueriteopened her eyes, she was more than aware that it was not Percy at her side. Sheinhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

“I fear I am keeping you from other dance partners,” shesaid.

“It would be ungentlemanly to leave the guest of honor onher own while she felt so unwell,” the viscount said.

“Indeed, it would!” a voice at the top of the stairs crowed.“Too right you are, good man!’

“Sir Percy,” the viscount said. “Your wife seems to havetaken ill upon the dance floor.”

“Odd’s fish, my dear fellow, you think I did not notice?” hesaid. “Lud, the kind of husband you must think I am not to have noticed! Had a devilof a time getting away to come and see if she was all right. You know how LordTony likes to talk-!”

Marguerite did not turn to face them, for she was certainher face would betray her. Dizziness – illness, whatever the viscount assumedshe felt – would give way to heart-pounding desires if she but beheld herhusband. It felt a lifetime since he was home, since he had taken her in hisarms and every time he did, she worried it would be the last time. She bit herlip. The swish of her skirts caught both men’s attention as she rocked forwardagainst the banister.

“Good chap, taking her for some fresh air,” Percy continued.“My dear fellow, go and enjoy the festivities! I feel it’s a husband’s duty tocare for his wife when she is indisposed thus.”

She heard the viscount excuse himself and his footfalls upthe staircase. And then, slowly, Percy’s as he descended towards her. When shefelt sure that they were alone, Marguerite turned to face him. Chest to chest,she could feel his body heat emanating towards her. She imagined her cheekswere flushed – though she willed them desperately to cool, it was a futile taskas she beheld her husband. Dressed in creamy pastels, all silk and lace, heshould have seemed a delicate thing. Instead, he had, like a lion springingforth for its prey, forsaken his lazy, reclined positioning for something morerobust and commanding. The blaze in his eyes was not the look he gave to theworld as either fop or hero, but only as her own, dear Percy. His feather-lighttouch against her cheek made Marguerite sigh. She listed towards his touch,tilting her head ever so slightly as her eyes shut.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” she whispered.

“Nothing could keep me away,” Percy murmured. His fingerstraced the outline of Marguerite’s prominent cheek bones and then her jaw. “Imay have been… momentarily detained. Tony truly does love to talk…”

Marguerite laughed shallowly. She could taste the scent ofhim – the cologne that masked the sea air and salt-sweat from his adventuresand all that lay beneath it. It was the scent that lingered upon the empty sideof her bed, the scent she imagined in the halls while he was absent. It was thescent of home and all she held dear.

“Home.” She opened her eyes and looked up into his when atlast she found the words. “I didn’t expect you home.”

“Nothing couldkeep me away,” he repeated. “Odd’s life, m’dear, what sort of husband would Ibe to miss your birthday?”

“I would not blame you,” she said instantly, voice still awhisper, but now fiercer. “You’ve so many more important things to think aboutthan- “

But before Marguerite could continue, Percy’s lips foundhers. His arm wrapped around her waist and Marguerite – throwing propriety tothe wind – threw her arms around Percy’s neck to pull him closer. She couldn’tever have him close enough. She wanted him under her skin and with her always,even when he was miles away. Her eyes shut again at his touch. There was agreat melting sensation in her molten core – everything went liquid and surgedforth as Percy’s tongue swept against her lower lip. She gasped. It was enoughto deepen the kiss and they steadied themselves against the stone banister fora few more, heated moments.

When the kiss broke, the already breathless Marguerite wastoo dazed to speak. Her lungs ached – she burned. Burned for air, burned forPercy, burned for his touch once more. The sting of a cool breeze upon herflaming cheeks quenched the fire within her just enough for her to catch abreath – just one – as she beheld her husband, looking as dazed and love-mad asshe felt. For the longest time, words were not exchanged, only gazes of loveand longing until, finally, the world returned and the music from indoors couldbe heard.

“The waltz, madam?” Percy asked. “Why, is that not the mostintimate of new and fashionable dances?’

“So it is,” Marguerite said. “Perhaps, then, it is onlyfitting that I dance it with my husband.”

“Are you quite certain you feel well enough for such things,m’dear?” His lazy drawl was slowly, shakily creeping back into his voice. “Theminuet with a near stranger almost did you in, what!”

“Oh, la!” She took his arm and led him towards the steps. “Youreally are the greatest fool in England if you think that.”

“Sink me! You don’t mean to tell me that my wife – the cleverestwoman in all Europe and France’s greatest actress – feigned a faint spellsolely for my attention!”

“There was little to fake – you made it quite easy to feelso lightheaded. You always do.”

“The things you say, Margot! Why, if you truly feel thatway, perhaps it is better not to rejoin the crowd until you are quite certainyour dizzy spell has ended!”

The revelers indoors did not see Sir Percy and Lady Blakeneyreturn to the party. However, if anyone dared to look out the windows and ontothe veranda, they would see husband and wife waltzing with near scandalousintimacy, laughing and talking beneath the stars as only lovers do.

[dannymolloy]

In Marius’ defence; getting very personal

First of all, there has been some confusion here on Tumblr as to what my intentions are with this post. If you read this and honestly believe I condone pedophilia, I can tell you now; I don’t. Simple as that. If you read this post, written out of my own emotions and translate that to me not caring about yours, that’s simply false. Just because I share mine, doesn’t mean I don’t care about yours. Each their own. Simple as that.  If you truly believe I wrote this piece to trivialize abuse victims and/or glorify sexual predators, you think very poorly of me and I invite you to come and talk to me to get to know me better. I guarantee you, I’m a very nice, loving and caring person. Secondly, we’re talking about a fandom. Almost in all fandoms, there is love for protagonists and antagonists alike. This does not mean we condone crime, rape and murder in real life. Look at the love for The Joker, Sephiroth, Moriarty, The Master,  Mason Verger etc. Is everyone that loves these characters a bigot and contributor to the trivialising of crime victims? No. Wether it’s a villain that not so bad or a ‘hero’ that’s not all good; it is still fiction. No matter how real our feelings are for certain fictional characters, this is not a real reflection of our stance in real life. Period. Especially in VC, the fandom is based on loving killers. We love Lestat. We love Armand. All the vampires in VC have done horrible, horrid stuff, taken lives and committed an array of criminal acts to (for example) get undeniable wealth. To go into this and pin pointing one guy with a flaw that makes him in all honesty a villain (Marius in this case); is funny to me as they then all are. They are all criminals. They are all killers, arsonists and thieves and all have their own mental issues to cope with. I will gladly have discussions about individual characters and their crimes or contributions to the fandom, but don’t point fingers saying I discredit crime victims when the whole series does that in romanticizing vampirism in the first place. If you don’t like the books, I discourage you to read this post or anything I post on my Daniel blog. 

If someone reads this and still finds me a horrible person, I insist you contact me personally in PM for an open conversation. Don’t hide behind others. If you want your voice to be heard, speak up. I am open to any civil, reasonable conversation. ON TO THE ACTUAL POST. ------ One of my dear friends just messaged me about how she feels terrible about the fact that Marius is being portrait as an abusive monster by a lot of people of the fandom and nothing but that. And I just want to share with you my story to let you guys know why there are people out there that love him.

Reading this story take in account that I am religious. When I was 15 I got into a particular fandom which stimulated my art, my creatively and my love for roleplay. I fell madly in love with one of the characters and RPed him for a looooong time. Nonstop. Only back then I did not know what a muse was. I did not know of the word. And darker forces took advantage of that. When it was revealed that this particular character died in the next book, it tore my heart to shreds. And instead of experiencing the muse as an inspirational source for my writing, it became a constant presence that would ‘talk’ to me. Said it came to be with me. Demand things of me. For almost two years this thing pretending to be him tried to isolate me and drag me down a dark path. I would be his and only his. I even broke up with a boyfriend back then whom I was crazy about. Because he told me to. And in the end he would even start telling me to off myself to truly be with him. Thank god something then clicked in me, only then realising this was going too far. I believe by recognising it, God reached out and expelled it. This thing left. But I didn’t realise it was my own strength- my own doing that did this. So I was distraught. It broke me. It left me depressed and unhappy for more years than I dare admit. It ruined my ability to be romantically involved with anyone which I still suffer from till this day.

But then something happened. I got introduced to the Vampire Chronicles fandom. I was scared at first. The confrontation with such strong, vibrant characters and the overwhelming subject of death made me so very weary for this fandom. But when I reached the point in The Vampire Lestat where Marius dug Lestat up and Lestat said he had never laid eyes on something so beautiful, I was roused. And as I kept reading, this Marius- this beautiful, man so full of life and optimism and love for life made me smile again. He was calm and wise and friendly and so extremely patient. An artist too and in love with everything beautiful in life. He appreciated the simple gesture of opening a door and all his strength and power made him humble towards weakness. Through his death, he only loved life more. All these lessons overwhelmed me. Shook me to my core. Slapped me in the face and told me this was the muse to follow. And he saved me. He literally saved me. I smiled again. I started appreciating life again. I went back to art school. I started appreciating the small beauties around me again. He opened my eyes again to the beauty of living. Getting back into roleplay scared me but I met a girl who for the first time explained what a muse was and only then did I realise that I had been tricked. That I had been taken advantage of by darker forces. And so then I decided that if I was going to RP again, I was going to keep the now called muses at a distance. And I did. And I still do. And I can enjoy it again. I can enjoy life again.

-----

In Marius’ defence Yes, after reading all the books, I realise he has major issues. I know he made some really bad decisions and a million more mistakes. But let me tell you; I was happy to see he wasn’t perfect. I was relieved to know that even those we look up to are flawed. And yes, in the span of his life, which is over 20 lifetimes!!!!, it is really quite OKAY for him to make more mistakes than we do in a lifetime. But lets not forget he is a vampire. Do we blame a lion for killing the antelope? No. It’s in his nature. Do we blame a vampire for manipulating and taking lives? No. It’s in their nature. It is quite unfair to throw shade at Marius for faltering every now and then when he so desperately tries to be human. And then there are some things I wish to point out that people seem to forget. - If it wasn’t for Marius, The Parents would have died thousands of years ago and the vampire race would have gone extinct. There would literally be no VC if it wasn’t for Marius sacrificing his freedom to harness and protect the Core.

- The knowledge of Marius’ possible existence was the thing that kept Lestat going in TVL. It was Marius that dug him out of the ground for a second shot at life. It was Marius who showed Lestat there was more to vampirism than the pain he had suffered so far.

- Without Marius intervening, Daniel would have been lost. Despite Marius’ double agenda to kill his own loneliness or feeble attempts to make it up to Armand, taking Daniel in was an act of kindness. Marius saved Daniel and only could through his endless patience.

- Marius welcomes Mael into his house. This is such an important aspect of his endless attempts to be good. Do not forget Marius was a very, very happy man in his mortal days. Mael stole that away from him. He robbed him of a simple but wonderful life and tossed him into this whirlpool of death and loneliness and misery. And yet Marius lets him sleep under his roof and offers him his own clothes!! His kindness is often obscured by acts of petty behaviour, but in his heart he is a genuinely good man who wants peace. He tries. And that is what matters.

- It is Santino that destroyed Armand. Not Marius. It gets my blood boiling when people have Armand speak in defence of Santino and somehow dare to shove all the blame onto Marius. Despite his questionable ethics with children, Marius wanted nothing but to give the boys and especially Amadeo a second chance in life. He wanted to make him happy, knowledgeable, successful and powerful. Marius is not the one that set the Palazzo on fire. Marius is not the one that tossed children in a fire. Marius is not the one that cruelly made Amadeo kill his best friend. Marius is the one that got burned to the bone and had to recover for 100 YEARS!! Marius is the one that had to suffer the loss of all his children. The loss of his happiness he experienced in Venice. The loss of his acolyte. The loss of his empire. His pupil. His lover. Marius is the one that served Akasha and was therefor told to leave Amadeo behind. I am not saying he was right in leaving Amadeo behind. Yes, t was one of the biggest mistakes he made. Despite being weak and in excruciating pain, he gave up on Amadeo because Santino had already tainted him. The fact that Amadeo forgot about his trauma’s in the past, Marius had a clean slate to make the best piece of art he had ever made. But Santino went over it with a sharpy and Marius, forever being the perfectionist, did not see a chance of saving it. And yes, that was wrong of him. And yes, he should have tried to get Amadeo back and save him. But it is extremely unfair to forget all these things in play. Marius suffered tremendously through this ordeal and caught his own traumas on the way. - He stays positive. He couldn’t marry the girl he loved due to discrimination. He was kidnapped. He was robbed of his mortal life by a man whom he later had to safe by pulling his head off and putting it back the right way. Three of his houses got burned down to the ground. He sacrificed his own freedom for the sake of his kind by taking care of The Parents. Akasha then thanked him by crushing him and breaking all his bones. He lost his happiness and the love of his life by a Satan-worshipping cult. He suffered 100 years because he was set on fire. He got the chance to finally be with the woman he loved but literally missed the memo. And yet... he stays positive. His natural optimism of living a happy, mortal life is what kept him going. It’s what made him a child of the millennia. He is the eternal optimist because he knows how precious life is.

So again; I am not saying you don’t have any right or reasons to dislike Marius or distrust him. All I want to say with this, is that despite his flaws, he inspired and set in motion more than the fandom gives him credit for. He suffered more than the fandom gives him credit for. He saved my life and therefor I will always defend him. He deserves it.

[damnthatnoise]

The Future Is Now | An Interview With Zilla Rocca

Philadelphia is rich with hip-hop history going back to Spoonie-G, DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, The Square Roots (The Roots) on through Freeway, Beanie Sigel, Dice Raw, Lushlife and of course the Wrecking Crew’s own double threat Zilla Rocca. With more than 15+ years deep in the game Rocca is approaching the release of his latest and in this writer's humble opinion most impressive album yet via legendary music journalist Jeff Weiss’s POW Recordings with, Future Former Rapper set to drop in the coming months. 

I reached out to the Wrecking Crew, Career Crook, Grift Company Producer/Lyricist to talk about his career, parenthood, how his approach has changed and all sorts of shit in between. Over the course of the conversation I digested the new album and the more I listened to it the more one thing became clear to me...Zilla Rocca is one of the NICEST FUCKING MC’s THIS CULTURE CURRENTLY HAS AROUND! The man has not only studied the greats but he holds tight in his essence the core of what made many of them great to begin with and when you get your hands on this album you will see what I mean.

For now, grab a drink, roll a blunt, and read my interview with Zilla Rocca!

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Damn That Noise:  "Future Former Rapper" you said has taken around 4yrs to create, and in that time you dropped 3 Career Crooks projects, your joint EP with Curly Castro as Grift Company and your "Hard Boiled EP" not to mention becoming a father and husband, and writing for Passion of The Weiss. What was it about this specific album that you really wanted to take your time on, and where do you think you've matured and refined yourself as an artist and man since "No Vacation for Murderers" dropped?

Zilla Rocca:  That’s a great question. All of heady stuff takes me 1-4 years to make for some reason. This album went through a lot of incarnations even though the songs are pretty direct and the conceptual stuff is digestible. When I started making it I decided to record maybe 4-5 songs, play them live, see how people reacted, and then go back and re-record them after doing field research. I’ve never done that before and it was great! Plus as an emcee it helps you catch pockets with the rhymes in a live setting that you might now catch in the booth. 

I think after No Vacation specially I wanted to make more straight forward stuff. I feel like my Shadowboxers projects are ahead of their time and take a minute to digest. Once real life stuff intersected then I really had no time just to experiment and meander with songs. I wanted to get my point across on different types of production on some Danny Brown and Vince Staples steez since they challenge people while being bare bones rappers. The bulk of the album was done before my son was born and his first year I had to pause with all music stuff and just be a Dad and husband. So that year off helped me recharge to do new stuff like Career Crooks and Grift Company.

DTN: I had written about your really growing into an MC who belongs alongside the caliber of folks who came from the DITC era, and you had replied in a tweet saying that you had really been studying those guys for a while recently. What is it about Finesse, Diamnond D, Big L, OC and the rest of the Digging in The Crates crew that inspires your asthetic? You sound like you and not a knock-off, but the essence is there which is hard to do some times....how do you incorporate those inspirations into the process?

Zilla Rocca:  Just being mentioned anywhere near DITC is a blessing so thank you. I feel like DITC is still an all time great secret in rap. I love Wu and Mobb Deep and all the other big groups and cliques but everyone knows them. How many people who love Fat Joe know DITC? I think those guys are incredibly consistent first off which I admire. AG is still great! Showbiz still gets busy. As does OC and everyone else. And their sound has always fluctuated between dark and cinematic but also shiny and bouncy. They could do clubby joints for the car and do headphone cypher riding on the train beats. I’ve been making beats for 15 years and definitely studied their approaches. I told Small Pro that “Good Luck with That” is his Buckwild album. And as a rapper I love Finesse and Diamond D for being so in pocket and dead on with their lines. There’s a beauty to their simplicity on the mic. It’s hard to be simple and dope. Plus Big L was the opposite using 5 syllable rhyme schemes while talking fly street shit. His rhyme structures are like cheat codes. I’m not a die-hard Big L dude but I’ve listened to him for 23 years and his shit is incredibly memorable and catchy. That’s why I did “Lamont Coleman” off Hard Boiled - I had those Big L lines in my head for a week and thought they’d be a great hook. And the beat had that eerie Word...Life/Jewelz feel. So it was the ultimate genuflect to the whole unit.

DTN: We seem sometimes to be in a Renaissance of hip-hop with artists like Armand Hammer's Elucid and billy woods both releasing such prolific group material not to mention solo material, as well as the likes of Milo, Mike Eagle, JPEGMAFIA, PremRock, Karma Kids, Ka, Marci, Westside Gunn and the Griselda fam continuously coming with heat and of course yourself and the countless others dropping really noteworthy albums....do you think we're hitting a creative stride right now that we were worried we might not see again 8-10yrs ago? 

Zilla Rocca:  I think we’re just in a media consumption phase as a culture right now. Binge watching shows. Staying glued to the news all day on twitter and cable. In the past only a handful of rappers were wild prolific like Doom, Kool Keith, Lil B, Lil Wayne etc and it made them stand out. Nowadays people hear your project and say “that’s hot but when’s the next one dropping?” Because people are just consuming endless shit now more regularly in that fashion. I’ve always worked on music and did it damn near every single day from 2005-2012 so once I saw people respond more to lots of music these days, I was game to feed them. I’ve always been diligent with lots of songs on deck so it’s nothing for me to try it this way for now. It’s been highly successful I’ll tell you that!

DTN: As someone who is an artist, and as someone who also writes about music where do you think music journalism specifically online has gone wrong over the last 5-10 years? Blogs at one time seemed like the spot where new artist could be broken and discovered but now most places seem no different than the old pay to play models of old. What do you think killed this?

Zilla Rocca:  With music journalism, it’s just things are always changing. Blogs were a reaction to music magazines becoming corporatized and shitty. Then blogs became corporatized and shitty and streaming took off so they got wiped out. Plus youtube has now been around for over 10 years and people just digest and learn shit from video so sitting and reading something is now a different option for music writing or criticism, whereas in the ‘80s through ‘00s it was almost the exclusive means to know about music

DTN: What about this album was different for you in the approach to bringing it all together? How did you decide on the group of producers you gathered and why them for THIS album?

Zilla Rocca:  I really thought this album would be my last. I was about to be a dad and I didn’t think I’d ever have time to work on music again. So I thought about making an album to capture every era from my career. I started in the early 2000’s doing more experimental stuff. Then did boom nap East coast underground music. Then some artsy indie rock sampling stuff. So this album was about showing off all of that.

So choosing the producers to handle that was the key. Steel Tipped Dove is the bridge between the more loop driven east coast beats on here, from Small Pro, Ray West, Disco Vietnam, and Messiah Musik, to the EDM/trap type beats by Starkey and my man William J Sullivan. I probably started the album with his beats and Messiah Musik’s first then chose beats around theirs. I feel like Danny Brown has been really good at that mixture so I patterned it after Old specifically without doing 2 sides to an album that breaks up the style of production. DTN: Jay is 48, Em is 46, El & Killer Mike are 43, do you see yourself actually becoming a Future Former Rapper at some point in time or do you think that it's just going to transition into a different path of creative writing for you, but keep the same essence?

Zilla Rocca:  There will be a day when I hang it up. Maybe it’ll be when I’m 40? I’ll be 36 tomorrow but I feel energized now with people still discovering me. But once my son gets old enough to play sports I know my time will be even more limited. And I’ll be ok with that. Like I said I really didn’t think I’d be doing music right now a few years ago. But great writers get better with age so you shouldn’t stop if you can help it.

DTN: What inspires 36yr old you now to keep moving forward and creating? If you could sit 18yr old you down and give him advice about what to expect and how to move what would it be?

Zilla Rocca:  I just really do what I like now and I don’t care about what happens after that. If no press gets behind it or If it sells 7 copies I’m ok with that. I’m not as thirsty as I was when I was 18. It’s really just about the work. Since I’ve approached music that way things have gotten easier and I’ve found new fans. I would tell my 18-year-old sell the line I said on “Career Crooks Theme”: nothing comes your way when you chase, best be patient.

DTN: What do you hope Future Former Rapper expresses to the people who take time to sit down and listen to it? What do you want the listeners to walk away with from the experience?

Zilla Rocca:  Phonte described his new album in a way that applies to mine: it’s for people who have other shit to do. I was really conscious about the overall running time and number of songs. Selfishly I just want people to hear it and think I’m a great rapper. If they can relate to some of the topics on a personal level, that’s a win too. It’s really autobiographical and very specific to my life growing up loving rap in South Philly in the 80’s and 90’s. But there’s a song about my wife and son and how they became the first thing I loved more than music. So there’s a lot to digest but I wanted to get in and get out like a bank robbery.

DTN: You have Serengeti, Armand Hammer, Curly Castro and another I know I'm missing on the album as guests... What was it about those voices on this album this time around? I know Curly is a regular voice but why Geti and AH...?

Zilla Rocca:  Castro is the most important voice. I deliberately put him on multiple songs because I wanted the album to reflect my life. He’s my best friend and we talk every single day so his voice should be heavily involved. With Armand Hammer, I’ve been working with Elucid since like 2009. It’s great watching people catch up to him now. Billy woods is one of my favorite rap friends ever so even if he didn’t rhyme on the album I would’ve just called him and recorded him talking cause he’s brilliant and hilarious. With Serengeti, I’ve just been a big fan of dude for years and we’ve been twitter homies forever with lots of mutual friends but we’d never worked together. So I wanted him in the mix because he’s very adventurous and bold while being original. Plus he doesn’t do a lot of features so I feel like it’s special getting him on my album.

DTN:  Why is storytelling such an important element in your writing? Even with your writing being more straightforward you've always focused on telling stories, and your favorite MCs have all been great storyteller... What is it about bring able to tell a story and not just say fly shit that has no real depth that calls to you?

Zilla Rocca:  I think storytelling is hugely important. To me, you’re not a great rapper if you can’t tell a convincing story. I like writing in that form because I’m an avid lifelong reader too. I also like structure and coloring within the lines sometimes and stories make you do that. There’s a beginning, middle, and end. Maybe a cool plot twist. I’ve written a fantasy type of story songs, sports stories, crime stories, relationship stories, and personal stories and I appreciate it when they connect with people. “Time Ran Out” off my new EP “Hard Boiled” is a breakup story and it’s one of the most mentioned favorites which shocked me. I wasn’t sure anyone would like it but I felt like it would break up all the random rhyming and fly talk like you said!

DTN: Favorite rap magazines growing up and why? 

Zilla Rocca:  Obviously The Source. I also loved Blaze Magazine and then later Scratch Magazine. It was a real elation seeing the newest issues on newsstands cause we had to go hunt and search for hip hop back then. It was a secret.

DTN: You've dropped shit on your own label, you partnered with Urbnet for the Career Crooks albums with Smallpro, and now you've decided to sign with Jeff Weiss' newly formed POW Recordings for your latest solo. Why at this stage of your career when you're capable of navigating it all on your own would you sign with a new label, and what is it about Jeff that had you decide to work with him for this release (other than the obvious fact he's a clear champion of great hip-hop of all kinds)?

Zilla Rocca:  I only deal with labels that love the music. I like partnering with people who are excited about the project first and foremost. I just left Toronto where URBnet is located and it’s such a clean and diverse city. Made me realize they really had to love Career Crooks to sign us cause our stuff is gritty and edgy being from Philly, which was not my experience of Toronto at all! With Jeff, we’ve known each other 13 years. I knew of POW Recordings when it was just a thought. His plan was to only sign up and coming cats to help them get shine, not Old grizzled vets like me from the Blog Rap Era on the verge of turning 40 years old. So when he heard the album, he fell in love with it and wanted to be the person who put it out. And I just went with it. It was effortless.

DTN: Thank you for your time my dude, do you want to leave the people with any final thoughts/words?

Zilla Rocca: Check my upcoming album. Check the singles we’ve dropped. Check my latest solo EP “Hard Boiled”, the latest Career Crooks remix album “Thieving as Long as I’m Breathing”, and the Grift Company EP from me and Curly Castro! Psshhew...ok that was a lot. Now, to sign off, peace to everyone who checks my stuff whether you’ve been down since 2008 or 2018. Just you reading this is built off my work ethic and stubborn refusal to quit rapping because I never had a major co-sign or a big manager or was down with a crew that blew up. I just keep doing it year after year so thank you for listening and reading!

Future Former Rapper by Zilla Rocca