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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader #Tony Stark x you #Stephen Strange x you

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

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I Was Praying for You and Me: Chapter 3 - You Are my Favorite Distraction (Rated NC17)

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian are not together, and Kurt is sure that this break up is the last one. But when tragedy strikes over Christmas, of all times, Sebastian is the only person who comes to Kurt's rescue.

This is an ACITW inspired ficlet that I wrote, written for the Hummel Holidays prompts 'Christmas' and 'New Years Eve'. Based off the head canon I had, and mentioned in the one-shot 'Under the Fireworks' that I wrote, that during the course of their relationship, they suffered several small break ups, and one big one. This happens during the big one. But it has a happy ending. :)

Read on AO3.

Lights.

To get his mind off things, Kurt stares at all the lights he can see from the passenger seat of Sebastian’s car. He names them, counts them, categorizes them the same way he did with street signs driving home from his mother’s funeral. Mindless busywork his dad had called it, which sounded insulting except it gave him something to dwell on instead of reality - a future where he never sees his mom again. Truth be told, that’s a reality he never has gotten a firm grasp of. There are days that, despite all of the love and support he has around him, he wishes she was there.

And there are days that, despite the years gone by, he wakes up and, in the haze between awake and dreaming, forgets that she’s dead.

He’s not ready to go through the same thing with his dad.

He can’t lose him yet.

Single street lights, traffic lights (in units of three), Christmas lights strung in fifties, hundreds, two hundreds, the neon light from a diner Kurt doesn’t remember ever seeing before, a garish purple sign in the window flashing the word closed. Kurt wonders if that diner, with it’s shabby-chic gingham curtains and picnic tables instead of regular tables, is one of the places Sebastian called in his search for the impossible – a restaurant open on Christmas. It’s just a diner, but its existence proclaims something stronger, more terrifying than Kurt wants to acknowledge.

Times have changed.

This city – Lima, Ohio - that Kurt once hated with a burning passion, has changed.

His father, sleeping in a hospital bed and surrounded by cellophane-wrapped cocoons of inedible food when he should be at home, has definitely changed. More than Kurt is comfortable with.

He has changed. No longer the closeted kid waiting for his moment, he’s had moments. Tons of moments. Moments he’s proud of. Moments he’s learned from. Moments he’d rather forget. Moments he wishes he could go back to.

Sebastian has changed, too.

And as a couple – romantic, friends, or otherwise - he knows they’ve changed together. He’s owned up to that change more than once. It’s one of the reasons they’re in this situation. Because they’ve changed, and Kurt doesn’t know if they can change back, even in some small way so that they can see eye to eye again.

Does he want to? Will it help?

Or is there a path forward that’s better even if he can’t see it now, where they walk alone for while but meet each other at the end?

But since that thought strays into Sebastian territory (territory that, for the time being, Kurt is trying to avoid) he goes back to looking at the lights. Because the lights are keeping him from grilling Sebastian for information, ask him what happened back at the hospital, what it all meant. Ask him if he knows the thing that no one’s telling him.

Is his father going to be okay?

Kurt watches the lights pass by, the buildings change into houses, the amount of cars parked by the curb increase. He counts the cars, sorts them by color in his head. But the mundane begins to drive him insane, and the words piling up in his brain behind an ever crumbling wall of minutiae tumble over the edge.

“So,” he says. It’s an opening, an invitation if Sebastian chooses to take it.

Even if he doesn’t, Kurt will more than likely keep going anyway. The floodgates are opening. The barricades won’t hold.

“So ...” Sebastian returns, eyes scanning the road ahead unnecessarily.

He’s not a complete idiot. He knows what Kurt is doing.

“What did he say to you?”

“When?”

“You know when?”

Sebastian makes a middle-ground face - the face one makes at a car salesman who comments about the weather as an opening salvo before he starts haggling about price. “Honestly, not much.”

Kurt huffs. “I don’t believe you.”

Sebastian shrugs. “It’s the truth. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re lying.”

Sebastian smirks. In this low light, it makes him look years younger, makes Kurt’s heart skip a beat. He wishes that smirk could transport them back in time to when things were simpler, when the most pressing thing on Kurt’s mind was that his so-called soulmate had cheated on him and how in the hell he was going to come up with ten thousand dollars to pay for admission to NYADA.

If he’d only known then how petty those things were, how easy to solve.

Ironically, he was able to overcome both those problems with the help of the man sitting next to him.

“It’s been known to happen, but I’m not lying now.”

Kurt considers debating the point further, not because he doesn’t believe Sebastian, but because provoking Sebastian into an argument would give him something else to take his mind off things besides staring out the Goddammed window.

He’s running out of things to count.

“If the silence is wearing on you, you can put on the radio,” Sebastian offers, reading Kurt’s mind. “I’m pretty sure there’s one or two stations not playing Christmas carols.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“I guess …” Kurt reaches for it, but an inch away, he stops. Memories flood back - good ones, bad ones. This car, his house, this town are chock full of too many memories.

Too many landmines he can’t seem to avoid stepping onto.

They show up without warning, incapacitate him when they explode.

It’s becoming too much.

He pulls his hand back, crosses his arms over his chest. He hugs himself tight, hunkers down in his seat, and starts counting wreaths.

***

Sebastian pulls up in front of the Hudmel house and parks by the curb. Kurt doesn’t move. He hasn’t fallen asleep, he just doesn’t have it in him. He doesn’t want to sleep in Sebastian’s car but he doesn’t want to bother with incidentals like walking and finding his keys.

And Sebastian knows.

He lets the engine idle, keeps the heater running.

Waits in silence till Kurt has the energy to move.

Kurt stares at the cozy house decorated to the nines for the holidays. His dad and stepmom love Christmas as much as the next middle-aged, suburban couple, but they decorate mainly for him and Finn. He and his stepbrother have managed to spend most every Christmas since high school graduation at the Hudmel house, and usually, Sebastian and Rachel spend it with them.

Not this time.

His and Sebastian’s situation is, of course, complicated.

Finn and Rachel were scheduled to join them the following week. They’d gone on some Rosie O’Donnell comedy cruise with her dads. Carole called Finn from the hospital, just to give him the news, but he’s making arrangements to fly in the second he reaches their next port of call. Until then, it’s Kurt holding down the fort. But no amount of sitting outside in the cold, wearing down Sebastian’s engine, is going to make his father get better faster.

And as awful as it sounds, Kurt has to think about himself.

Kurt starts to stir, and Sebastian turns off the engine.

Sebastian gets out of the car, reaching Kurt’s door before Kurt can open it, and offers him his arm. Kurt takes it. Looking up into his ex-boyfriend’s face, the street lamp behind him giving him a blurry, sodium-orange halo, Kurt yawns.

“Ready to pass out, huh?” Sebastian asks, leading Kurt up the icy walk. He catches Kurt’s keys when he fumbles them and helps put the correct one in the lock.

“My body is,” Kurt says, opening the door and walking inside. “My brain wants to solve the Riemann Hypothesis.”

“Brutal.”

“Yeah. It would make more sense if I liked math.”

Sebastian locks the door for Kurt, who looks ready to knock out where he stands. And as much as he wants to let Kurt crash, he doesn’t want him to drop emotionally. What Kurt deserves is twenty-seven hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, but he needs to ease into it.

“Are you in the mood to watch a movie?” Sebastian asks, turning on the central heat and switching on the lights, bringing the house to life. “Maybe binge watch some late night television? I can rustle up some snacks. Uh …” He’s about to make a comment about Kurt’s dad hiding something in the kitchen he shouldn’t be eating, but it strikes him as tasteless to make jokes, no matter how much he knows Burt would appreciate his humor. “I could whip up some French toast. You remember how stellar my French toast is.”

Kurt cracks a small smile and triumph, for the moment, is Sebastian’s.

Another memory, but this one not as devastating … the damage to the kitchen notwithstanding.

“Thanks,” Kurt says, “but I’m (yawn) exhausted. So, if you don’t mind …”

“Do you want me to leave?” Sebastian asks, feeling uneasy for suggesting it considering what he’d promised Burt.

“No. I just … I would rather hang out in my room, if that’s not too weird for you. This way if I fall asleep, you won’t feel obligated to carry me to bed.”

An image pops into Sebastian’s head of him carrying Kurt, bridal style, to his room. Then his brain helpfully reminds him of all the times he has carried Kurt to bed, and it almost does him in. “The boiler room would be weird. Your bedroom, not so much.”

“Boiler room? Who do I look like? Freddy Krueger?” Kurt mumbles, trudging his way to his room. Step by step everything becomes difficult. The act of lifting his foot can go straight to hell and burn in a fire. He feels very much like he’s fighting molasses and the molasses is winning. Part of him wants to stop, lay down in the hallway and conk out. But he can’t do that.

He can’t give up.

He can’t sleep here since he doesn’t know how often Carole or his father cleans this floor, and he’s wearing one of his best pairs of jeans.

He reaches for the doorknob about three feet before he reaches the door. He might as well do it now while he’s thinking about it. Otherwise he might not have the motivation when he gets there. He turns it, pushes in, lets the door swing. If it rebounds while he’s walking through, there’s a fifty-fifty chance he might let it smack him in the face.

He couldn’t care less.

He stops at the foot of his bed and starts taking off his coat.

“Why do bedrooms always seem smaller when you go back to them?” he asks. “I mean, I only lived here during high school, but it still seems tiny to me.”

“I think because when you’re young, your bedroom is your whole world. But when you leave home, you outgrow that world. Ergo, you outgrow them.”

Kurt chuckles dryly. “You’re one to talk. Your childhood bedroom’s about the size of a studio apartment!”

“Yes but the penthouse I live in now makes it seem so much dinkier,” Sebastian claps back with a smirk. “Did you want to take a shower or …?”

“If you don’t mind …” Kurt tugs off his sweatshirt, tosses it on a chair, then starts unbuttoning his shirt “… I’d really rather fuck if it’s all the same to you.”

Sebastian’s face goes blank and his eyes pop. “I’m sorry. Wha---?”

Sebastian doesn’t finish his question.

Kurt digs into the last of his reserves and crashes their mouths together. “Did I stutter?” he whispers, reaching for Sebastian’s belt.

“No, I just … mmph … I want to be sure …”

Kurt tugs hard on the leather, freeing the strap from the buckle in one pull. “Do you want me to stop?”

“That depends … do you really want to do this? I mean really?”

Kurt looks into Sebastian’s eyes, the right corner of his mouth sliding up into a cocky grin. “Absolutely.”

Sebastian’s grin matches Kurt. “Then by all means.” He crouches, hugs Kurt’s legs around the thighs, then picks him up and carries him to the bed. “You know, when your dad told us to go do something fun, I was hoping we’d do this.”

“Probably not the best time to mention my dad,” Kurt says, starting in on Sebastian’s shirt even though he’s only about halfway done with his own, “all things considered.”

“Gotcha.” Then Sebastian kisses him. And apart from taking a breath or two, he doesn’t stop.

Despite the fact that Kurt is wearing a pair of jeans so tight Sebastian thought he might have to cut Kurt out of them, both of them end up completely naked in a ridiculously short amount of time, clothes tossed about like confetti, not in keeping with Kurt’s usual edict that everything be laid out neatly on the nearest piece of unused furniture. Lube and a condom are located and not by Kurt. Sebastian knows all of Kurt’s tricks and hiding places. He doesn’t look as he reaches under the mattress and to the middle drawer of the dresser, completely confident that what he needs will be there when he reaches out a hand in search of it.

And he’s right.

Sebastian sits up with his back against the headboard. He rolls the condom over his cock while Kurt straddles him, taking a moment to stack pillows behind Sebastian’s back so the wood doesn’t dig into his spine.

“Thanks, love,” Sebastian whispers as Kurt positions himself, starts working himself down. He nips at Sebastian’s bottom lip, never staying in the same place longer than a second, keeping him on his toes.

“Jesus fuck!” Sebastian growls when Kurt begins to move, grabbing his shoulders and pushing down, burying himself in Kurt’s body deeper … deeper …

Kurt goes deeper. He also goes faster, hitting Sebastian’s thighs hard - deeper and faster, pleasure and pain bouncing off one another until he begins to see stars.

“You know,” Kurt moans, “this doesn’t mean anything. I’m just … I’m just using you as a distraction.”

“Kurt” – Sebastian grabs Kurt’s hips to slow him down, but Kurt slaps his hands away. He’ll go as fast as he likes, as hard as he wants, and when they’re done, they’re going to do this again. They’re going to do this till he can’t remember his own name, till his mind is wiped clean, till the exhaustion in his body is so overwhelming he can’t do anything but close his eyes and pass out. He’s going to do this until he can effectively erase the past twelve hours of his life. And then, they’re going to do it again – “when have I ever objected to being used as a distraction by you?”

“Yeah, well, I could just as well slap you in the face.”

Sebastian bucks up, willing to play this Kurt’s way if this is really the way Kurt wants it. “Do you … nngh … want to slap me in the face?”

“Only every time I see you,” Kurt admits, stopping and hovering so Sebastian can have a turn at pounding him instead.

But Sebastian stops altogether and it pisses Kurt off, especially with the addition of his raised eyebrow and his smug-ass expression.

“Then do it,” Sebastian says.

Kurt chuckles nervously. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all. If you want to slap me, go ahead. Get it out of your system.”

Without another beat lost, Kurt rears back and slaps Sebastian across the face. Sebastian’s face flies to the side as he takes the hit. He turns back to look at Kurt, a red hand mark visible across his cheek. They lock eyes, both with peculiar looks of surprise on their faces.

Kurt can’t lie. Slapping Sebastian feels amazing.

Sebastian must think so, too, because he stares at Kurt, lips twisted into the most sinisterly erotic smile Kurt has ever seen.

Kurt considers asking Sebastian if he hurt him, but he doesn’t. He slaps him again. This time, Sebastian hisses, but Kurt doesn’t let him catch his breath, slapping him a third time for good measure. Sebastian catches Kurt’s wrist and holds it; holds his gaze, too, trying to decipher what’s going on in his mind.

“I’m gonna switch things up a bit,” Sebastian says. “Do you mind?”

Kurt shoots him a curious look. “Not at all.”

Sebastian slides out of Kurt’s body only long enough to re-position him on his knees facing the headboard, then grabs his hips roughly and enters him from behind. His hands roam, pinching at Kurt’s thighs and slapping his ass while he gnaws his shoulders. He wraps an arm around Kurt’s body, a hand creeping up to his neck. The hand doesn’t close around, doesn’t squeeze. It’s just there, a symbol of Sebastian’s possessive nature where Kurt is concerned.

Mine.

I call him mine.

Even if they’re not officially together, on some level, Kurt belongs to him, especially now when he’s consuming him.

Kurt grabs the headboard and holds on tight, turning at an angle to catch Sebastian’s gaze. He loves looking at Sebastian during sex, loves seeing the desperation in his green eyes.

And Kurt does see it, but it has little to do with the sex they’re having. Sebastian is begging, trying to hold on to every second, hoping it’s not the last time they’ll have together.

He’s looking at Kurt the way Kurt looked at his dad, and Kurt realizes he’s not okay. He’s not okay with losing his dad.

But he’s also not okay with losing Sebastian.

What exactly had Sebastian done?

He’d overstepped a line, the same way he always does, but not necessarily in a bad way.

He didn’t cheat on him.

Like the hand on Kurt’s neck, he was being possessive. He did what he did because he cares. But Sebastian’s numero uno solution to everything is to buy a way out, so there are times when it seems he doesn’t take anything seriously, and Kurt can’t live that way. He can’t live in a sit-com where every situation that comes up, good or bad, has a punchline followed by canned laughter.

And he comes out looking like a naive idiot.

Why is tonight different?

A few thousand dollars, a few million dollars, can’t buy a solution to what’s going on with Kurt’s father. Yet Sebastian is here in bed with him, letting Kurt open up, be vulnerable. And aside from a few attempts to ease the tension at the hospital, he hasn’t cracked a single joke.

Because Sebastian has changed.

And if Kurt loved Sebastian then, he adores him now.

“Talk to me,” Kurt moans, unsettled by the quiet in the room, as if they’re together in this but still apart.

He can’t be apart.

He needs to be whole.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The first thing that comes to your mind.”

“I …” Sebastian hesitates, a brick lodged in his throat. “I love you, Kurt.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt admits. “But say something else.”

Thank God! Sebastian thinks, on the verge of tears. The sex is incredible, but hearing that Kurt still loves him … that’s what he’ll take awake from this, what he’ll carry with him if this ends up being the last time.

Dear God, don’t let this be the last time ...

“I love your ass.”

Kurt chuckles. “Better.” He pushes back, sticks his ass out, lets Sebastian have his way with him.

And Sebastian does because (this might sound lousy to say) here in Kurt’s bed, the man is in his element.

When it comes to sex (because that’s what they’re doing - having sex. Kurt refuses to think of this as making love. They’re fucking. That’s all …) Kurt hit the lottery with Sebastian. Ever since the first time, sex with Sebastian has been glorious, and it gets better the more they do it.

Kurt tries not to dwell on why that is.

But the man knows his way around a human body.

And he has the hands of an artist.

“Oh, Kurt,” Sebastian pants into Kurt’s shoulder, “Jesus Christ … I’m cumming … I’m cumming, I’m cumming ...”

Kurt huffs, put off by the fact that they’ve only been at it for around forty-five minutes - a mind-blowing forty-five minutes - and Sebastian is already throwing in the towel. Of course, Sebastian hasn’t been with anyone for the time they’ve been apart, so Kurt can’t blame the man.

Kurt hasn’t, either, so when Sebastian’s palm starts caressing his cock, his resolve starts circling the drain as well.

“Yes, yes, yes …” Kurt chants, his vision going prickly, then black before he even closes his eyes. This is it - this is where he escapes. Behind his eyelids, into the recesses of his mind, where thought disappears and sensation takes over. If he can just hold on to it, if Sebastian can make it last. He’d try if Kurt asked him to, but the words won’t come out. As with everything, there’s a point where things start to spiral out of his control. His muscles spasm and his body shudders. He has to choose between thinking of something to stop his orgasm and risk going unfulfilled, or giving in to the void, letting his body do its thing, and then start all over from the beginning once they catch their breath.

That’s the most logical course of action. And it’s not a bad one.

The thing that scares Kurt is that space in between, when he comes back from ecstasy and Sebastian’s heat and has to face the cold and dark. He’ll have to exist there with whatever thoughts his brain decides to throw at him until they can start again and Sebastian can wipe his mind clean.

He’ll have time, he figures. Time to get his head on straight, stop reeling, before the plunge happens. Three minutes? Four? He’ll only need five minutes before he’ll be ready to go again, to lose all thought in Sebastian’s arms. That means one minute of depression. Two at the most.

But he’s not as lucky as he thinks he’ll be.

It comes at him much too quickly.

Kurt leans against the headboard, hugging what he can of it so he doesn’t drown when the wave hits.

“Kurt? Honey? Are you okay?”

Kurt shakes his head.

“Is this … not what you wanted?” Sebastian slides his hand off Kurt’s shoulder and backs away. Kurt hears him gulp behind him. “Did you change your mind in the middle and I didn’t hear you?”

Kurt shakes his head again. “That’s not it. I did want this. I …” His body curls, sinks towards the pillows. “He’s not … he’s not leaving the hospital? Is he?”

Sebastian sighs. “I … I don’t know, Kurt.”

Kurt spins around and shoves Sebastian away, but he doesn’t go far. He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t leave. Kurt didn’t want him to, but he needed to be sure he wouldn’t.

As immature as it sounds, he needs to know that Sebastian won’t leave, even if Kurt pushes with all his might.

He needs Sebastian, but he needs to be able to hurt him, just a little, to even out the pain inside of him.

He’ll find a way to make that up to him later.

“Yes, you do!”

“I don’t! I swear!”

“You’re lying!”

“Kurt, babe, I’m not that cruel a person. Not to you. Even if he told me in the strictest confidence, I would still tell you because you deserve to know. We’re all on edge about this, all jumping seven steps ahead and assuming the worst, but to be honest, I don’t think he knows for sure.”

“Then what did he tell you?”

“Nothing! Like I said, he wants me to look after you. He’s scared, like you. That’s all. But you need to have a little faith.”

“In what?” Kurt snaps, irritated that Sebastian would spout faith with him of all people.

“In the people who love you, Kurt. The people who want to help you. Look, I know that at times like this, it feels like the best thing is to be alone, but I disagree. That’s just the easiest. And I get that. When you’re around people, you feel the need to be accommodating, and you don’t have the energy for that. But I think you need all of the fun and laughter you can find right now, with people who get that this is hard for you and will give you your space when you need it. Turns out, I just so happen to know a big house not two hours from here filled with people who would love to see you, who will shower you with love and affection, but will also ignore the shit out of you if you need it. Because, again, they love you.”

Kurt glares at Sebastian, eyes hard as glass, but he begins to soften when Sebastian’s hopeful gaze starts to slip.

He’s tired, too, but he’s doing everything in his power to be strong for Kurt.

Kurt needs to start giving some of that strength back.

“You’re really working hard to sell that love angle, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, it’s important. I want you to know that you’re loved.”

“I do,” Kurt says quietly, plopping on his side with a body-deflating sigh. Sebastian wastes no time lying behind him and winding his arms around him. He doesn’t hold tight in case Kurt wants to put some distance between them.

He doesn’t.

He moves closer.

“What do we do now?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt doesn’t want to be rushed into giving him an answer, even though he has one more or less figured out, but he also doesn’t fault Sebastian for asking. Sebastian had hitched quite a few of his future plans to his relationship with Kurt so Kurt understands.

Kurt did, too.

“I say we keep going on the way we are, not think about anything too heavy for the moment. We’ll go visit your folks, celebrate the holiday, and then, when we get back to New York, we’ll revisit it. I promise.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian says, sounding a bit disappointed. “Do we still get to fuck?”

In another lifetime, it would have embarrassed Kurt how fast he answers. “Provided you’re a good boy, yes. Yes, we do.”

“Groovy. But just so you know, I’m always going to be yours, Kurt. Always. We’ve done everything aside from mortal combat to push one another away, and guess what?”

“What?”

Sebastian takes Kurt’s hand, weaves their fingers together. “I’m still here.”

“Me, too.” Kurt wriggles back into Sebastian’s embrace, buries himself against his body. Despite the confusing and uncomfortable situation they find themselves in, he’s grateful for this, that Sebastian would be so generous with his body even if Kurt isn’t giving him the security of absolutes. But Kurt can’t make decisions right now. He needs to hide from the world, from his life, his responsibilities.

From the inevitable.

There are way worse places to do that than Sebastian’s arms.

“Mortal Kombat?” Kurt snickers. “Still keeping up that nerd boy street cred, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know …” Sebastian hugs Kurt tight, pulling the sheets over them and rocking him back and forth. He missed this. God, did he miss this. And even though he didn’t believe in God an inch, he silently prayed that he could get this back. Somehow, in some way, he needed this back. But for the moment, he was content to hold Kurt together, keep him from shattering. “I’d say that was a … flawless victory.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, groaning to the moon and back. “Shut up, Smythe, or I’m never fucking you again.”

#kurtbastian #acitw #acitw au #sebkurt #sekurt

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r3b3lgrrrrrrrl · 5 years ago

Text

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 93) "We'll Take It!!"

@lovemythsworld

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@crystalbaby12

@backoftheroomandnotbelonging

@5sosfam1dlover

@mgkobsessed

Luna finds herself swigging a bottle of Paul Masson in a small, smokey apartment in Bushwick. Taking a joint from a random person, she feels the rush of familiarity hit her as she absorbs the buzz of the room. There's nothing like being in a tiny hub of musicians exchanging ideas.

"You wanna do this?" Sam asks as Luna passes her the joint.

"Yeah... I don't have a fucking electric though. I've been using Colson's, remember." Luna responds, rubbing her forehead.

"Fuck... I am really unprepared." Luna realizes suddenly and begins to panic. Thinking of how she needs to get in touch with her grandmother.

Sam catches Luna's change in facial expression. With a loud whistle, she quiets the room.

"Who's got an electric I can borrow for a minute?" She shouts into the full kitchen.

"For what?" Floats into the air.

"To fucking play, ya douche bag." Sam scoffs. "What the fuck do you think for?"

"What shit are you causing now?" Mike asks Sam as he enters the room.

"Luna only has her acoustic. We need an electric TO PRACTICE ON." She shouts the last part in to the resumed room. "Ya got one?" She asks with irritation.

"Yo. Electric. Now." Mike hollers over her head.

"Mine's in the living room." A different voice offers.

Mike throws his hands up at the solution. Sam rolls her eyes as she grabs Luna's hand, pulling her towards the living room. Luna following with the bottle in tow.

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The living room isn't posh by any means. There's amps and speakers. A drum kit is set up the way a suburban family would worship their TV. A ratty couch, lawn chairs and fold out tables are pushed to the sides all around it. It's dirty and has cockroaches with random pieces of artistic creations strawn everywhere. Making Luna happy to be home.

Luna pulls off her leather and hoodie. Dressed in a simple black T underneath. Kicking on the amp, she tunes the electric she finds. Sam getting comfortable behind the kit. Mike lighting a joint as his bass hangs off of his lean body. Luna can't help but notice him as they fuck around on their instruments for a few moments, finding their footings.

"Try it out?" She asks to their nods.

Plucking a few strings before she begins to strum specific notes. Flipping through D, C, A and G. Those being the primary chords of the song as Mike and Sam follow behind her lightly with the same melody. Luna comes in with her voice low and haunting.

🎼Tell me//What's so//Entitled//Aaaabout//Yoooou//Treating women//Cheap//Like//Yooooou need//Toooo//Why can't you//See we're//Just//As Strong as//Yooou//Come on Boy//I wanna//Hear you//Speak your//Truuuuuth🎶

The song follows a soft/hard formula. Luna's voice adds a taunting sweetness to the aggressive lyrics but rips through certain biting ones as she wails with inquisitive anger. Sam and Mike throwing out equal amounts of fierce energy through their instruments with her.

They run through IT ten or fifteen times. Tweaking different notes and lines together. Each time playing louder and with more raw passion as they become comfortable with each other and the song.

The electricity is pumping, creating a surprisingly mixed group roaring along with them by time they finish up. Many singing the song. All singing the chorus. There's definitely something undeniable in the air.

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Taking a break from practicing, Luna needs a little breathing space. Sam follows her downstairs for a cigarette. Mike behind them.

"This is either gonna be a hit or you're about to become America's Hottest FemiNazi." He declares, lighting his own Marlboro.

Sam glares at him as she pulls on her Camel. Luna just stares. Contemplating his words.

"Probably the latter, but I don't give a FUCK." Luna finally answers with a shrug before taking a drag. "They wanted a second song... They're gonna get a second song. It's not my problem if people are uncomfortable with the truth."

"I hope one of those Assholes from Chicago sees it too." Luna thinks to herself. Having practiced the song with Sam and Mike, she feels confident in how they sound and feel together. Catching the attention of others while practicing the same song over and over, she feels good about their stage presence. Performing comes naturally to Luna and she enjoys it with all her heart. She does not enjoy the rest of the nonsense that comes along with it though. "Fuck... I hope she keeps it light..." Her mind trails off. Truly only worried about the interview. Luna doesn't mind discussing politics but she hates giving up any details on her personal life and she knows that's what Ellen is going to want.

---------------------------------------------------

Colson's somewhere on his way to Arizona. It's late. Casie's sleeping and he misses Luna. He had tried to call her but it rang straight through.

Stepping into the bathroom, he Snaps her. Hoping to get her attention as he wonders what she's doing.

"I fucking hate when she goes..." He sighs to himself. The double edged sword of loving an independent woman.

Looking at his schedule, he begins to formulate a plan.

--------------------------------------------------

Back at Sam's, Luna changes out of her clothes. Lighting a joint, she finally reaches for her phone. Texting her grandmother about her guitar.

Finding a missed call and Snap from Colson. Missing him, she calls first. With no answer she opens the Snap, immediately snickering at it's content.

"This Motherfucker...." She thinks as she shakes her head with a huge smile and Snaps him back.

------------------------------------------------

Colson wakes up as soon as The Bus stops to a sleeping Casie and Luna's Snap. He's in Phoenix, AZ. Her, New York City.

Looking at his phone, his dick and heart rage for his woman.

"Take a shower and handle your business." He groggily coaxes himself out of bed.

Hitting the single shower, Colson strokes his massive hard on away. Thinking of Luna as he pulls on his cock. Imagining the different times he's fucked her in it's tiny stall. Her strong thighs and tight pussy wrapped around him.

Eyes closed, leaned against the wall, he strokes harder and faster. Images flying through his mind. He cums with the jolt of the memory of her teeth sinking into his neck as she had consumed his entire being.

Heady and satisfied, Colson steps out of the shower. Still missing Luna as he burns and snorts the amount of Adderall that it'll take to start his day and mission.

--------------------------------------------------

Luna is so grateful to see her grandmother in MidTown. Not just because she has her electric guitar. Even though Luna's still pissed at Patti for booking her, she LOVES her Mom-Mom. It's been harder to be away from her than she'll readily admit.

"Hi!" Luna shines bright as she hugs the older punk.

The busy City streets whirl around them. All is silent in their hug. Making Luna a bit more happier to be home. Holding hands with her Mom-Mom, Sam and Mike follow behind them.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Upstairs they're greeted by Ellen personally. Taping in NYC, she's taking full advantage of the convenient request.

"I'm so sorry to hear of Porscha's mother." Patti tells her friend as she grips her hands.

"Thank you. She's doing much better." Ellen squeezes her friend back.

"You ready, Kiddo?" She asks, turning to Luna.

"I don't know... How bad you gonna fuck with me?" She blatantly asks.

"Enh... Ya never know!!" Ellen grins as she wiggles away.

---------------------------------------------------

"Come on, Peanut... We gotta hustle." Colson tells his daughter as he holds her hand.

With only their carry ons, they move quickly through LaGuardia. Ashleigh had confused the dates when talking to Luna, thinking they would be father west. Colson and Casie hopping a flight before daybreak. They're doing a lot of traveling today.

--------------------------------------------------

Dressed in a baby blue slip dress, fishnets and Docs. Luna's hair is messy while she performs Nightmare on only her acoustic. Not far from the way she'd played the SNL gig with Ashley and The Boys, it's softer with only her guitar and voice wrapping around the strong lyrics.

The performance is simple and incredibly raw with no backing track. Shocking anyone who's never heard her stripped down, Luna's vocals are unforgiving as they stand alone. The emotional layers to her notes making the message loud and clear.

"WOWZA!!!" Ellen approaches her clapping after she finishes.

Looking into the camera, Ellen tells her audience They'll Be Right Back With That Brooklyn Bitch. Luna taking her guitar off and standing up from the stool she'd been sitting on.

"That was amazing!" Ellen exclaims to Luna as they take a commercial break.

"Thank you!" Luna beams as she gives her a hug.

Walking over to check on her grandmother, she can't find her. Only Sam and Mike. They don't know where she is. Being called back for the interview, Luna shrugs it off.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"And we're back with That Brooklyn Bitch." Ellen ques them from the commercial break. "Who just performed her #1 single Nightmare featuring Halsey." Ellen turns to Luna. "Congratulations. It's such an incredibly powerful song. Now, I understand all the proceeds go to the Yellowhammer organization? How'd you become involved with that?" Ellen asks Luna before looking down at her notes and back up again.

Smiling, Luna Thanks Ellen. She feels so uncomfortable in the bright studio and white chair.

"Yes. All proceeds go through Yellowhammer.... Uhm, Halsey and I linked up with them last month when Alabama decided that a group of men should have the final say on what happens with things that they don't have." Luna states.

Leaning back and moving both of her hands in circular motions to showcase her abdomen and vagina. Making sure to drive her point home.

"There are only THREE Planned Parenthoods currently functioning in the ENTIRE state. They are being used to provide anything from birth control to STI testing to cancer screenings. Since the government wanted to pull their funding, Yellowhammer has been able to provide the cash flow to keep them open. So, THANK YOU to everyone who has DONATED. STREAMED. Or BOUGHT. ANY. Of the Nightmare merch. WHICH SOLD OUT!!! THANK YOU!!!" She exclaims, moving her hands around in amazement.

Luna looks directly into the camera with her words. She may not like it but as said before, she knows how to speak to people. And give good plug.

"Everyone who has supported this song is in some way, in turn, supporting the women of Alabama, and the US, the RIGHT to make choices for ourselves and the separation of body and state... Which shouldn't even be a THING. Sooo.... again, THANK YOU." Luna says firmly with immense gratitude still talking with her hands. Emphasizing certain words as the audience applauds her. If she's going to be forced onto television, Luna figures she'll utilize it the best she can. Ellen applauds her also before digging into the celebrity gossip.

"The video is pretty iconic too. You've got A LOT of powerful women with you.... How did you get so many famous faces to match up their schedules to shoot that?" She asks with intrigue.

It wasn't just Luna. Or Ashley and Luna. It was all of them and it was pretty fucking amazing. Setting an unknown president inside people, women and the Industry that weekend.

"That was an act of the universe, honestly. They passed the law Friday morning. Halsey and I had the song written within an hour and recorded it before the end of the day. We both sent out rough copies that night to all of our friends, inviting them and anyone else who wanted to come to the shoot the next day. Like, no one's manager talked to anyone else's. We just had a major group chat going on." Luna laughs. "That EXPLODED.... I mean, I don't know Beyoncé personally.... so when she arrives on set unannounced, you KNOW that this thing you're doing is WAAAY bigger than you thought it was." Luna looks at Ellen with eyes wide in pure wonder and satisfaction.

Ellen nods. She's always liked Luna and respects how she seems to follow in both of her grandparents social rebellion.

"That's pretty amazing and as you all know... It speaks volumes..." Ellen says before Luna cuts her off.

"It is. And it's exciting on so many levels because if this song can speak SO loudly and it's context resonates so hard that it's at the forefront of the pop music... That means we're TALKING. That means we know there's a problem to fix and we're angry about it. And Ellen, you know, with anger comes change. That's what we want. Change. Equality. Simple fundamental rights. Girls don't just wanna have fun. We wanna... We want to. And DESERVE to stand beside those who think they're inclined to make major decisions that effect tons of people who aren't like them." Luna shrugs as she ends her stance.

Not realizing how quickly Luna can bend a conversation to her will, Ellen struggles a bit to regain control of the interview.

"No. What you're doing is admirable. You are me but for women's rights." Ellen let's out a light chuckle. "So.... I do wanna play Five Truths with you. I'm gonna ask you five questions and you have to answer them truthfully." Ellen in informs Luna.

"Motherfucker...." Luna thinks as she shakes her head at Ellen with a nervous grin.

"Number One.... And remember I've known you long enough to know if you're lying." Ellen smirks at her.

Luna can't help but roll her eyes as she sighs.

"Number One?" She asks Ellen as she perks up her shoulders and sets her hands in her lap.

"Nuuuumber One... What's your real name?" Ellen stares her in the eyes.

"What??" Luna asks, completely caught off guard.

"What is your legal name?" Ellen cocks her eye.

Luna glares at Ellen.

"Luna Adelaide Smith." She answers leerily.

"I knew that..." Ellen smirks.

"I KNOW you did." Luna shoots back sarcastically.

"I had to see if you'd tell the truth or not." Ellen brushes her off with thrown hands. "Number Two... What's your favorite thing to eat?"

"Cheeseburgers." Luna answers without a thought.

"Number Three.... What happened to your grandmother's pottery bowl?"

With this Luna reels back with a scowl. Now understanding what this fucking game is about. Sighing, she shakes her head with a smile.

"You guys think you're slick." She snarks back.

Turning to the audience. Thumb jerked towards Ellen. Luna scans the room for Patti. Surprisingly, she still can't find her. Sending a weird feeling of What? Why? And Where The Fuck Are You??? Pulsating through Luna.

"She's friends with my Mom-Mom. What you're witnessing here, is a homemade lie detector test. On TV. YAY ME." She chuckles with an eye roll. Luna flashes her jazz hands. "For the PARENTS out there." She continues. Now pointing. Finger guns flaring at anyone in her range. Live or recorded. "NO. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME." Luna deadpans with another light laugh, hands thrown up as her brilliant smile shines with irritated intensity. "We won't tell you anything." Her shrug showcasing her honesty and irritation.

Ellen leans up grinning. Knowing she's been caught. Looking up at Patti, she proceeds.

"Five Truths...." She reminds Luna with a chuckle.

"Fine." Luna sighs. "My grandma took a trip to London when I was like 15yrs old. I was really irresponsible and had a house party. Some kids broke it on accident. I'm really sorry, Mom-Mom." She answers.

Only giving the details she wants, as always. Ellen glances into the audience to her friend's nod of approval. What Luna didn't reveal is that she took part in the breaking a also. Trying to turn it into a bong. Kids do stupid shit.

"Okay... Number Four. What's your biggest fear?" Ellen continues.

"Deep sea diving." Luna answers.

"Really?" Ellen looks at her inquisitively.

"Yeah... The idea of not being able to reach the surface with an empty tank freaks me out. I even get nervous coming up in the pool off the high di..." Luna tries to explain as the top from the table between them flies up.

"RAAAWWWWWWRRRR!!!!" Shouts someone as they burst out of it.

"MOTHAFU..." Explodes out of Luna's mouth. Shocking the shit out of her, she jumps back in her seat. Drawing up both fists, she almost swings before she recognizes the laugh.

Ellen watches as Luna freaks out, exploding into laughter herself.

"BUUUUNNY!!!" Luna shouts in shock and relief as Colson climbs out of the box.

Laughing, he smothers her with his body and kisses. Confused, she kisses him back before pulling away.

"What are you..." Luna looks around perplexed. "Where's Case?" She asks as he perches himself on the arm of her chair.

"She's with your grandmom." He kisses her head after pointing into the crowd.

Sure enough, Casie is sitting right next to Patti. Grinning and waving at Luna.

"Heey Dilla!!" Luna exclaims when she finds them. "What are you guys doing here?" She asks, turning back to Colson.

"Ash mixed up the dates, so we popped out to support you and check out the listing." Colson explains, melting Luna's heart.

"I fucking love you." Luna whispers as she touches his face and reaches up for another kiss.

"Aren't you two cute!!" Ellen gushes while still laughing. "We'll get back to that but first... Last question. Number Five.... Who is the most influential person in your life?" Ellen continues to question Luna.

"These bitches are ridiculous...." Luna thinks to herself.

"Am I supposed to..." Luna tries to ask a question.

"Five Truths..." Ellen let's escape through her laughter. "Most influential person in your life?"

"What the fuck is happening???" Luna is so completely out of her element.

"Uh... Crap... There's so many who make me, Me." She looks up at Colson. "But... I mean, my Mom-Mom. She top notch gave me my core being." Luna answers honestly.

Ellen smiles before teasing her about saying That just to make Patti happy.

"I'm not. I love my Mom-Mom, Man." Luna shakes her off with a pure grin.

"So, you love your grandmom. What about this guy?" Ellen asks pointing at Colson. "I heard you two are getting married soon..."

Luna looks up at a beaming Colson. He's sitting on the left side of her chair, where he jumped out to scare her, right arm resting carelessly around her where it belongs. Luna can't get a word out.

"Yeah." Colson answers for the both of them.

This perks Ellen up. She loves unexpected details.

"Oooh yeah?? When you kids gonna do it?" She asks the question most of the world already knows.

"Fuuuuuck my liiiiiiife....." Luna thinks, feeling incredibly exposed. "There are people I still need to tell....." Her mind worries.

"EstFest. Come one. Come all....." He looks down at Luna.

Her hands are between her thighs and he can feel the anxiety tensing in her shoulders as he notices her knee rocking. Colson strokes the back of her hair, calming her soul.

"What is this EstFest?" Ellen inquires.

Colson goes on to describe the festival. Detailing Mod's set and the extra day added. Along with the waterslide and thousands of other activities. Ellen commenting that it sounds a lot crazier than her own wedding.

"You two have a Top 10 single also, correct?" Ellen is now interviewing them together.

"Yes. Bad Things." Luna finally speaks. "It's off his Hotel Diablo album which drops July 5th." Always plugging. Making Colson kiss the top of her head again with pride.

"Think we could get a performance?" Ellen coaxes.

"And drop the other?" Luna bargains.

"No." Ellen shuts her right down.

Looking back up at Colson, Luna shrugs. They discuss On Air with Ellen how they'd do it before she takes them out for another commercial break. Promising a performance to her excited audience.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I can't believe you're here!!" Luna tells Colson as she wraps her arms around his waist, snuggling into his chest.

"I go where you go, Kitten." He grins. Lifting her chin to plant a solid kiss on her lips.

"Fuck, I love him." She thinks as his words stick to her heart.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"And now... That Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly with Bad Things." Ellen introduces them.

Luna and Colson are sat together behind a piano that the producers had found for them. Exchanging knowing looks, he pecks her cheek as she begins to play.

🎼I know//I'm outta my head//But I haven't lost my mind//How is that you know//The Bad Things I like//Oh Bunny, I can't explain it//What can I say//It's kismet, Ain't it?🎶

Luna opens with the chorus, Colson coming in strong behind. His hand is on her thigh as she continues playing the melody on the piano. They share the mic when they sing to each other about tattoos and Wanting Each Other Forever.

Their performance is really sweet and incredibly intimate. Both ab libbing lyrics at different points. Grinning at each other from start to finish. Anyone can feel the genuine love that radiates between the two of them.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Back in the Hot Seat, Luna and Colson are now sat on a loveseat together talking to Ellen.

She asks how they met. Colson happily telling the story of The Girl in the Cheetah Print Coat as Luna blushes.

"But you really only met in April and you're getting married in July?" Ellen grills them.

Looking at Colson, Luna shrugs with a smile. "When you know you know." She answers.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Back OnStage, now with Sam and Mike. Luna tunes her guitar as the lights go down. Stepping up to the mic she begins the simple chords.

They start off low and haunting. Luna curling her voice around the lyrics like a sly cat.

🎼Tell me//What's so//Entitled//Aaaabout//Yoooou//Treating women//Cheap//Like//Yooooou need//Toooo//Why can't you//See//We're just as Strong//As yooou//Come on Boy//I wanna//Hear you//Speak your//Truuuuuth🎶

Keeping with the beat Luna changes the tone of her voice. Making it sound sweet and inquisitive around the nasty lyrics.

🎶Did we//Ask you for IIIIT//When we begged//Was it//Niiice//While we//We're asking//For IIIT//Did we//Beg you twiiice🎶

Sam and Mike kick in a little harder as the pop punk melody flows. Luna's voice picking up a hint of aggression. Growling certain lyrics.

🎶Anytime we try to//Go out and have//Some fuuuun//We can feel//Your eyes//Wishing for//Xray visiooooon🎶

Belting now, Luna's voice is raw. Angry and taunting. The Band roaring behind them.

🎶MOTHER NATURE//GRANTED YOU//A GUUUUUNNN//WHEN WILL YOU// LEARN TO CONTROL//YOUR WEAPOOOOON🎶

Colson is standing off to the side with Ellen. "She's fucking incredible." He thinks as he watches her rip through the song strong and confident.

The Band drops down low as Luna softens. Pretty voice still holding it's snarl.

🎶Did we//Ask you for IIIIT//When we begged//Was it//Niiice//While we//We're asking//For IIIT//Did we//Beg you twiiice🎶

Mike hits a small bass solo as Luna hums along with him. Sam and her jump back in with him in time for Luna to hit the unforgiving bridge.

🎶They say//If you//Dress like That//It means//You waaant IT//And//I can dooo//What III want//Toooo//And//If you//Act like Thaaaat//It means//You waaant IT//So I can//Taaaake from//Yooou🎶

Luna runs a guitar solo over top of Sam and Mike before they kick in their hardest. Each note and lyric getting stronger and more raw as they play. Luna wailing her point across.

🎶BUT//We're not//Asking for IIIT//We just wanna//Live our liiives//You're who's//Begging for IIIIT//Learn to stop//At once//No need to ask//TWIIICE//YEAH//WE'VE BEEN ASKING// FOOOR IIIT//WE'VE BEEN BEGGING//OUR WHOLE LIIIIIVES//WE'RE DONE//ASKING FOOOR IIIT//DEMANDING OUR RESPECT//WE'RE DONE PLAYING//Niiicce//Ooohh//Oooohhh//Ooohhh🎶

The tune coming to an abrupt soft end. Luna cooing over the last few chords. Ellen is shocked by Luna's performance as she claps them out to another commercial break.

"Holy shit, Luna." She says approaching her with wild eyes. "I don't know if The Network will let us run that."

"Be a shame if they didn't." Luna simply shrugs.

Colson comes up from behind, lifting her off the ground. Layering the back of her neck with kisses. "You were fucking amazing!!" He breathes into her hair.

Turning around, she thanks him with a warm embrace and deep lip lock. Just as Casie and Patti come up to them.

"Looney!!" Casie shouts as Luna turns to squeeze her tightly.

"Oh, LunaBug. I'm so proud of you!!" Patti gushes as she hugs her grandmother.

Once Luna changes and they collect their things, they say Goodbye to Ellen before hitting the street.

--------------------------------------------------

Outside, Luna introduces Colson to Mike. They make pleasantries as Patti hails a cab.

The next stop on Colson and Casie's Traveling Adventure is Brooklyn Heights to check out the brownstone Luna's interested in.

Luna and Sam say GoodBye to Mike. Luna Thanking him for His Help. Mike telling her No Problem, to Hit Him Up if She Ever Needs a Bassist.

Colson watches and feels a burst of jealousy when Mike pulls her into his body with one arm wrapped around her tiny waist. He glances at Colson over her head as he squeezes her tightly against him.

"Did that motherfucker just...." Colson's brain is about to explode as Patti ushers them into the cab.

---------------------------------------------------

Monica meets them at the brownstone. It is beautiful. Newly renovated with the original wood molding and pocket doors. Casie runs through laughing as her voice and footsteps vibrate off the high ceilings, wooden floors and natural acoustics.

Sam wanders after Casie as the realtor shows Colson, Luna, Monica and Patti specific amenities and features. There's a small hidden yard in the back. Tucked under Colson's arm, Luna thinks it's perfect.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Christen it?" Colson asks with a devious grin as he scoops Luna up.

They're in the master bathroom. Kissing all over her neck as she wraps her legs around his waist. Pulling her closer to him, he kisses her mouth as I Missed Yous escape between the two of them.

"I caaaan't." Luna pouts. "I'm on my period..."

"I hate that fucking thing." Colson complains.

"I know, Bunny..." Luna says as she slips off the sink. "Doesn't mean I can't do Bad Things to you." She continues coyly.

Undoing his belt and jeans, Colson shimmies out of them. Luna running her hands up his bare thighs as she kisses on his collarbone. Looking up into his eyes, she's just as devious.

"We can still christen it." She grins.

Pulling his briefs down with her as she drops to her knees. Colson leans back against the wall as Luna licks up, down and all around his hard cock. Soaking him before slipping his huge member into her warm mouth.

"Ahhhh. Fuuuuck, Kitten...." He groans in pleasure as he runs his fingers through her hair.

Using both her hands to work his sopping dick, Luna glides him along the sides and rim of her mouth. Rolling her tongue on his head as he reaches the entrance. Sucking fiercely. Pushing him in deeper when he hits the back of her throat. Holding him there as she sucks with force and hums. Knowing that's the ticket.

"Fuuuuckkkkk." Colson cums in her mouth.

"Hey Dad..." Casie's voice floats through the bathroom door as it begins to open.

Scared shitless, Colson throws his left arm against the door. Luna's still on her knees. Slightly paralyzed with a bit his cum still lingering on her bottom lip.

"Be right out, Case!! Go find Pat!!" He shouts looking down at Luna.

"Okay..." The little girl's voice drifts away.

Looking up at him, Luna sucks the remainder of him off her lip. Even though he just came, her actions make him ache to be inside of her.

"When the FUCK are you gonna learn to lock the God Damn door?" She asks as she shakes her head with a smirk.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"WE'LL TAKE IT!!" Luna and Colson say in unison as they come bounding down the stairs.

"Yeah?" Asks the realtor. "Do you still wanna see the stu..." Luna cuts her off with her hand up. Knowing she wants to keep that space to herself.

"Not today. We want this one though definitely." She says confirming her and Colson's wants.

"Okay...." The realtor nods.

They talk a bit about closing. Luna not feeling the need to pay attention while Monica works out logistics. Agreeing both of their names will be on the deed, they expect to be able to close before the end of the month.

Strolling around together, Luna's arm is around Colson's waist. His around her shoulders as they admire their new home.

"We have a home, Bunny." She beams up at him.

"And pets..." He reminds her.

"Oooh fuck, yeah we do. I mean if they're still alive..." She realizes with worry.

"They are. Jillian, my cleaning lady cleans their bowl and feeds them each week when she comes by." He reassures her.

"Really???" She looks at him with undying love. "You're so fucking awesome." She declares as she tip toes to kiss him.

------------------------------------------------

Back out onto the pavement, Casie looks up at the brownstone. "We're gonna live here?" She asks.

"Kinda..." Luna begins to answer. "It's like Daddy's house in LA... Now when we come to NY, you'll have your own bedroom instead of us having to sleep in a hotel." She explains.

"Cool." Casie nods. "So now I live in Cleveland, LA AND NEW YORK CITY." She grins.

Luna living for and loving the content on her Dilla's face. "Yup. You're bi-coastal, Baby!!!" She says with a laugh.

"What's that mean?" Casie questions her as a cab pulls up.

Having to be back in Phoenix before 8P, Colson scoots Casie into the back seat with promises of explaining once their on their way after she's hugged Luna.

Taking her into his arms, Colson kisses Luna lightly. A pleased smile playing on his lips.

"Pets. A home. Marriage. You think you can handle all this Mainstream Living, there Riot Grl?" He teases Luna in between kisses.

"With you. Absolutely. We do what we want. Twist Norman Rockwell to fit our punk view." She grins as she kisses him back.

There aren't any other words that need to be said between them. One Look holds it all. They kiss each other firmly and passionately before separating.

Colson touching her key as him and Casie make their way to JFK back to Arizona. Luna rolling her padlock between her fingers as she hops in a separate cab with Sam and her grandmother. They're headed to see about wedding dresses.

---------------------------------------------------

To be continued......

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dippedanddripped · 4 years ago

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A Q&A With Keary Kase On Pioneering Hip Hop In Portland

Trenton, NJ born rapper Keary Kase is now pioneering hip hop from Portland, Oregon. After having been involved in a Nike ad campaign that featured him on Billboards across the US, Keary’s singles began to top the radio charts. He began to work with artists like The Wutang Clan and producers Bosko and Non-Stop Da Hitman. Most recently, he partnered with Adidas designers in Portland to develop ‘Reder’ – an athletic apparel brand with focus on CBD delivery systems for athletes who are recovering from injuries.

We had the chance to sit down with Keary Kase to talk about Portland’s thriving hip hop scene, his Nike campaign, and what fans and followers can expect in 2020.

Tell us a little bit about the hip hop scene in Portland. We’d love to know more!

Portland hip hop has so many facets, I’m not sure where to begin. We do have a solid foundation of originals, like Mic Crenshaw, Cool Nutz, Mellenium (Kenny Mack), Maniac Lok, Bosko, Vursatyl, X-Kid, DJ Wicked, Pete Miser and myself, who are still active.

Having strong artists, who have made careers in Hip Hop, as role models and idols allows the kids to aspire to become musical artists. Without these examples, the endless call to normalcy and job security (which we all now know is B/S) by pretty much EVERYBODY, would lead these young Ore-guns to self doubt and failure.

Mike Capes, Swiggle Mandela, Drae Steve’s, JR Patton and Keith Canvas are a few Portland artists to check out.

Right now, a lot of artists are showing support to the BLM movement using their voices to speak, rather than rap to those participating in protests, rallies and such.

How do you feel being originally from the east coast has affected your musical style?

In my embryonic years, I saw myself as an east coast rapper. I felt like, with the exception of rappers like Ice T, Too Short, NWA and The DOC, west coast rappers were mostly basic compared to east coast rappers. They had KRS, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick (my favorite golden era rapper), Special ED, Kool G Rap & Polo, RAKIM!!! Plus WBLS used to play all the hot new shit off the block.

I was enamored by east coast swagger and tone. The slang and accent was natural for me because my entire family spoke with it. My ability to slip in and out of the style made me different in Portland.

In the early 90’s I started spending time in LA. I was slanging FIMO beads to tourists at Venice Beach in the daylight and going to clubs and shows at night. I met this dude named Self Jupiter at this summer festival called The African Marketplace, where I was selling jewelry and celebrating my black youth. Jupiter was a member of a rap group called Freestyle Fellowship. He gave me a tape. After I listened to it, my entire opinion of west coast hip hop was turned upside down. I witnessed west coast rappers like Volume 10, WC, Divine Styler, Cypress Hill and E40 change the game. I became influenced by them and my style was set free. I became open to all influences, no matter if they came from the east, west, northwest, midwest or south.

Tell us more about the Nike ad campaign you were featured in. How did that come about?

One day I was leaving my boy Tommy Hestmark’s studio in downtown Portland. I was walking down the street with my back straight and my chest and chin up, as all men and women should. This guy approached me and said “excuse me, can I talk to you?” I looked at him sideways and he says “no, no. It’s just…. Your face is CRAZY!” I squinted as if to say “do you hear yourself fool?” He pulls out a card and explains that he owned a modeling agency and he thought my look was money. He asked me to call to schedule a test shoot. I called and scheduled the shoot. When I went there, he asked me if I was wearing boxers. I confirmed, then he asked me if I would take some test shots in my boxers. I’m thinking this dude is either going to proposition me for sex or he wants to see if I can be the next face of Calvin Klein. I gambled on Calvin Klein and agreed to take the pics. We walked into a hall and he said “you can get undressed here,” then walked away. So there I stood baring all that my boxers would not cover, with my clothes in a small pile on the floor. I heard footsteps, then an attractive woman appears holding a camera. It was his wife. She told me where to stand , took a couple quick pics and said “Keary, you’re a machine,” then allowed me to get dressed and walked me out.

A few weeks later they called me back and said a photographer knew of me and wanted to do a martial arts shoot. There was no pay, but the photographer was well known and really good. I had no portfolio, and no published work so this was an opportunity to do TFP to add to my comp card.

The photographer, Marcus Swanson, wanted me to do a flying sidekick, which is a classic taekwondo photo kick. When I got there, there was nowhere to get a running start so I improvised and pulled it off. While I was there, a Nike scout was lurking. As I was leaving, Marcus’ assistant, Amber Geiger, mentioned a potential shoot for Nike and asked if they could do a quick polaroid. Snap snap and I was out. A few months passed by before I got a call back from my agent about the shoot. In those few months, I became a black belt, won a gold medal at the the regional national qualification tournament in the black belt dividion, then a silver medal at the US National Championship, and was leaving in a few days to go whoop everybody’s ass at the invitational US Team Trials. It didn’t play out that way but I believe being so active in the few months between the martial arts test shoot and the paid shoot is what influenced their decision to go with me for the ad campaign. We agreed on a date and time, after my return, for the shoot.

When I got back, we did the shoot. I thought it was going to be light work but it was brutal. Modeling is hardcore. I remember seeing myself on a billboard for the first time. It felt like a distant relative to masturbation. I also remember it taking forever to get my money. Agencies can be gangster. I had to make some very firm promises before I got the check. After that, our relationship became square.

You have worked with several platinum artists and producers. Do you have any memorable stories about your experiences that you’d like to share?

Hmm. I don’t like to deride or D-RIDE anyone, but there was an interesting encounter with a Wu-Tang Clan member named Cappadonna. Cappadonna, Killa Priest and a small crew they were touring with were staying at my house when they stopped through Portland. My roommate, MyG, was helping them do some business in Portland while they killed time before their next tour date. At the time, we had a lil 5 bedroom spread with 2 recording studios in it, so we let their whole crew crash at the spot. The house was already like a revolving door for whoever was on tour in the NW. Artists could come through while in town and collab, get local pub through us and be blessed with some Oregon grown greeneries for the road.

So this was the first time we met (Cappadonna & I). I was taking acting classes at the time so I was gone when they pulled up. When I got home after class, Cappadonna was in the booth. I walked in the room and he started talking wild like “aye yo break that nigga watch!…stab that nigga!” I’m standing in a room full of dudes, with New York energy, that I don’t know, so I assumed he was talking about me. I dip out to my room and get a screwdriver just so I have something in my hand incase things go left. A few minutes pass, then MyG tells Cappadonna to move on to the next part. At this moment I realize he’s in character and not talking about me at all. Killah Priest enters the room. We introduce ourselves and dap up. He asks me what I do and I tell him that I’m in acting school. When Cap comes out, KP says “this is Kase, he’s an actor.” They gave each other a look that, to me , expressed what he spoke as “this is Kase, he’s a fake nigga.”

Granted, I’ve been a skater since day 1, so I understand that some black people (especially at the time) associate being a black skater with being less black or more white. With that in mind, I let what he said breeze by.

After we blessed up, we got to the business. Bosko had let me hold a beat that I wrote a sticky verse to; Cappa liked it so I let him put a hook on it. Me and KP did a DOPE song on a track that this dude named Smoke produced. It sounded like some official Wu-affiliate shit. MyG lost the session so none of that material was ever released.

The next day the energy still felt suspect. Like they thought I was a suburban negro, lol. I took them to the block, which is now gentrified, but was still hood at the time. Cappa called my whip a 666. It was the same Denali XL with the same 26” Trump Spinners that was in the video for the song he was promoting at the time, but mine was cleaner. It seemed like he felt a way about it. We went to my mom’s restaurant, where Cappa requested a Psalms verse from my mother. She said “how about a Revelation,” and laced all of us.

I dropped them at the barber shop to get faded and bladed. When they came out, the energy was different. Cappadonna got in and said “you know your hood and your hood knows you. He said you put your moms in that restaurant, didn’t you?” I just looked at him and put my hand out. We dapped up and the respect, which was first being given by me and received by him, suddenly felt mutual.

Cappadonna is a wise dude and a beast MC. I asked him questions related to his lyrics. He explained to me what “God Degree” and “7:30” meant and told me the story of the origin of his name. You might be able to detect that I’m most definitely still a Wu-Tang fan, although I liked his earlier work. KP knows what I mean by that.

Tell us about your involvement with the CBD industry and your views on how it can be a therapeutic tool for people?

CBD is my go-to treatment for a number of conditions. If I am anxious, I use a non-psychoactive tincture. This gives me a general sense of well-being, without making me feel altered or high. I feel like myself on a good day. If I need to restful sleep, I employ a cannabinoid rich CBD blend that allows me to drift off into REM without jumping up 100 times to make sure the garage door is closed (or whatever). Using CBD is like taking premium vitamins.

In 2019, I started a company called Nina Botanica with a material designer who works for Adidas in Portland. I began researching how to use compression technology as a CBD delivery system for athletic injury rehabilitation. There are some products on the market that offer a similar product, but none that fully address the issues of muscle strains, tears and associated pain that can knock an athlete off of their game. What sets us apart is, our CBD compression system has a lifetime guarantee. You can use it until you’re tired of using it.

We also designed a pod based delivery system, called the NINA , with Shenzen based technology company Smoore. The smart hexagonal pod + cartridge system uses inductive charging in place of the industry standard USB to power up.

Due to COVID-19 and our current bout with systemic racism, the techy products will be in preliminary production until mid-late 2021.

Tell us about your latest project “Craze”. Who is involved and what inspired it?

I was a week back on after being off music for years. Just getting my lungs back, not planning on dropping anything yet; just warming up. An artist named Uneek, who had been my mentee for several years, reached out. He was talking about how he blew all of his savings on medical expenses for his seed and how William, Lil Willi and Big Bill were all coming for him at once. He had just got robbed in Atlanta, so he was shy about who he could trust in Portland.

Uneek asked me to help him to rebrand himself and act as a manager, as I did in the beginning of his career. Since he had just found the strength to come out about his sexual identity, he wanted to look to the LBGTQ community for support. Since that was outside of my sphere of influence, I decided to help him generate some traffic in his home studio, offering tracking and mixing as an engineer. I told him we could put out a mixtape to re-introduce him to his followers and the rest of the world. I got 15 tracks from producers, Sixteen and J Doe. I wanted to see how serious he was about his career so I told him to put hooks on all 15. He would send me a rough lyric or melody, then I would write or rewrite the lyrics then massage the melody and coach him on how to execute it. After he did it, I would chop it and arrange it in a Logic, while I was on the road.

Once the mixtape concepts were in the bag, I told him we needed a real record to kick it off. There was a lot of material in his catalog, but nothing that sounded like a hit single to me.

He got a track from this lil dude named 64 and put a hook on it that had us laughing. He was like “yeah this track sound like something Da Baby would get on.” It wasn’t my style, really, but I kept getting drawn into the drums. I let the first line go off the top then it seemed like the rest of the lyrics were just there. We called it “She A Thot.” It dropped on all platforms back in April of this year.

Craze, the follow up single, manifested itself off of the vibe we were on after “She A Thot” dropped. 64 had sent us a 3 pack of beats so it had some of the same feel as the others, however, the “Craze” beat was much more elegant than the other two.It was like the bigger, sexier, more mature and pondering sister of the “She A Thot” beat.

When I started writing, I felt the beat asking me to confess. It was saying “tell your truth, Kase.” The melody in my head was so balanced that I just let it drive through the first verse. I remembered, as a young man, being so caught up in hustling that I lost my compassion for people. I reflected on how I had spent the last decade, since my first daughter was born, re-approaching life with more compassion.

Whatever you have done in your past does not define you. But sometimes it’s good to talk about it. Black people have traditionally been afraid of counseling or therapy. Mostly because of our trust issues with the people providing those services. I strongly suggest talking to someone about the things that trouble you. My uncle Jeff calls it “dumping.”

Music is my therapy. Dumping is my new craze.

What artists are you listening to right now and why?

I like listening to new music. I’m listening to Lil Durk, Pop Smoke, Amine, Jack Harlow, etc. But that’s like research for me. I like to see and hear what the big dogs are investing in. But right now, I’m developing a K-Pop artist, so I’m listening Big Hit Entertainment’s people. I’m about to go over there and liberate some musical slaves. (*artists)

But I still listen to Sade.

What’s next for you in 2020? What can fans look forward to?

I’m dropping a mixtape later this month. I may be doing a record + video with Compton artist, AD in the next few weeks. We’re still working out the details, but he’s doing real good right now.

Other than that, I’m developing a young K-Pop idol named Kiari. That genre is making big waves. I’m also looking at television as a next play. I have a pocket ace in the Chinese market that I’m keeping tucked. Oh I’m doing business with China. Sorry Chump…I mean, Sorry Trump. No, wait, I had it right the first time.

#keary kase #pdx hiphop artist #pdx artist #portland oregon #music blog

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casszabek · 5 years ago

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meet CASIMIR RADOSLAW ZABEK, he has been living in milton for fifteen years and is generally known around town for being dedicated and temperamental. the twenty one year old, is apparently a youtuber but you didn’t hear that from me. when i think of him i think of: splatters of blood on ice, skulls drawn on a fogged up window, the beads of a rosary biting into your palm despite knowing god will never take you. - timothee chalamet, cismale, he/him as written by pepper, 23, est, she/her.

ABOUT THE MUN. id like to formally apologize for calling everything sexy. it seems i have forgotten every other word that could express that i like something.

hello all, it’s me, ya gurl pepper. as the kids say... what is UP kyle! i usually like to start these things with a bit about me but god i feel like y’all already know too much about me already i skjsjk revealed it all in that groupchat but omg okay lemme think. i am 5′6 and the shortest person in my family and everyone makes fun of me for it. i don’t drink so every time i write my muses drunk it’s a whole mess. i can’t cook but i love to eat. i am in love with both stiles stilinski and rory sutton brady. i love to rollerblade but the one time i did the rollerblades highkey cut into my skin so i’ve never done it again. i am a big marvel and like general superhero nerd but i’m not proud of it cause disney really let me down sdkjsdjk okay that’s it i think onto cass stuff now!

BIO. *removes one earbud* the fuck you want

cass was born and raised in poland to parents who honestly never really cared for him. like it wasn’t that they were particularly cruel to him or anything, they just didn’t like him. they barely bothered with him most days, generally leaving cass to his own devices when they could or with friendly neighbours. cass pretty much grew up raised by those polish grandmothers who stand on their balcony’s to look out and see the gossip, but he was always pretty okay with that like he never knew any different. until he did.

when cass was six he and his parents took a trip to america and milton to visit his grandfather. you see, his grandfather and grandmother came to america for their retirement around the time that cass was about two. they settled down in milton and quickly became the eccentric foreign couple. the zabeks. everyone loved them. but then cass’ grandmother died. and his grandfather fucking cyrofreezed her ass and shoved her in the shed like a psycho.

so basically they were coming for the funeral but the funeral was just them all looking at his grandmother’s frozen body in his grandads fucking shed like she was an exhibit at a museum. it was weird. like really weird. but so was grandpa zabek so no one really questioned it. cass just remembers thinking that he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

he never did. his parents fucking left him there. just like that.

they literally said they were just going over to the next town for some dry ice for the grandma zabek popsicle and they never. fucking. came. back.

so cass was stuck here. with his crazy psycho drunk of a grandpa. and a grandma who was quickly getting freezer burn. and a town full of weird ass people. he was living the dream.

but then things got weirder. the towns people, who were also psychos, like fucking loved it?? like they were way too into it. based a whole town tradition on the whole thing. and that wasn’t it, no, pretty soon they were attracting tourists. to their little fucking house, or more specifically, the shed in the back. cass has vivid memories of leading curious people out there, bringing them into the dark shed and just pulling down the little light switch to a bunch of oohs and aahs. people were fucking crazy. and cass learned that pretty quickly. he was jaded at a very young age.

but it didn’t stop there. oh no. so before grandpa zabek was a drunk psycho guy he was an olympic figure skating coach. and so guess what he forced his grandson to do for bonding?? fucking ballet. fucking figure skating. cass never really had a bit of a choice honestly, the moment his grandfather figured out he had a talent he was pretty much set on training cass up for the olympics. and honestly, the moment that cass figured out that he was actually good, and could actually fucking beat people, well. he was pretty into it. like honestly cass has always been pretty into knives, and like having knives on your shoes?? hardcore.

so for most of cass’ life that was it. going to school and barely passing. ice skating after school, and before. showing off grandma for money whenever they had a couple tourists in town. the zabek household was always people’s weird small town stop on their crosscountry road trips. some asshole even did a whole article about them once, and that just blew things up further. prick. if cass ever finds him he’ll take out his kneecaps.

honestly cass was always pretty much a loner in school? got into a lot of fights, caused a lot of mayham. think patrick verona in ten things i hate about you. that was cass’ energy. he had like maybe three friends total and he was pretty okay with that.

anyways, so after years of training and figure skating and ballet training, like yes literally ballet training, cass is pretty much all ready for the olympics. he and his grandad are about to go through the whole fucking process and guess what the old man’s dumbass does?? tries to rob a bank in the city to pay for the various olympic things they need. gets his ass arrested of course. like an idiot.

cass was sixteen at the time, and royally pissed about it but well. what can you do. so cass goes back to town, no medal, no nothing but his broken up feet to show for it all, and honestly kind of depressed and scared like ??? he didn’t know what he was going to do without his grandpa and he certainly didn’t want to go to foster care. but then the weirdest thing happens. the town takes care of him.

cass didn’t ask for it of course. cass will die before asking for help. but he didn’t have to. just like that random ladies were coming to his house with casseroles for lunch, and dinner, and breakfast. people were double checking to make sure cass’ ass was going to class because he still had to graduate. some random ladies from his ballet studio even came with him to his grandfather’s hearing.

it was weird honestly?? cass has never really gotten that level of support, not even from his grandfather, but it was big gilmore girls energy. the whole town rallied around him as if cass was just an angry, violent little rory gilmore after a heartbreak. and honestly he was grateful for it, although he’d never say it. he feels a certain level of debt to them honestly, so you can pretty much always lowkey catch cass helping an old lady clean out her gutters or like helping some random suburban mom paint over the side of her house. helping out at one of the stores when someone is short staffed. that kind of stuff.

he still has the family business though and that covers the bills. every once and a while cass is over charging some suckers to see a dead lady and he’s chill with it. honestly he’s gotten so used to it that he actually talks to frozen grandma zabek like it’s nothing sdkjdsjk like honestly he lives by himself and he’s lonely so he’s always like ‘wow, look at the fuckin’ haul this time around babcia... with all this i can buy you a new dress or something...put it over your cube... just kidding, i’m spending this shit on a new board, sorry’ sdkdsjkan

but to bring in extra money cass does youtube, something he kind of stumbled into honestly?? like cass is really good at video games, and he really likes them so honestly someone probably just uploaded a video playing video games once (cause cass wouldn’t do it himself so wanted connection i guess if anyone is willing to like be friends with this boy) and like it blew up?? and cass realized he could make a whole ass career based off of this?? so that’s what he did??? he makes videos of him playing games and just getting super pissed when he loses or messes up and people LOVE IT!! he probably goes by halo online because he doesn’t want people to find him. also will occassionally post videos of him skateboarding. honestly is really popular on line, like maybe not p*wdiepie level but maybe markiplier or ksi idk gamer youtubers guys but he’s up there. has never been to playlist live or anything like that though because he is not a people person sdkdsj but someone force him to go i feel like it would be fun

oof and that’s it i think ! a long ride but thank you for getting to the end

PERSONALITY. i may seem like an angry person on the surface but deep inside i’m angrier.

and that’s it that’s his personality thanks for coming out.

BLUNT. no but aside from being generally grumpy at all times cass is just so honest most of the time, like he straight up does not lie for the most part because he doesn’t see the point?? says what he wants no matter how rude. kind of a dick but it’s not as much that he’s trying to be it’s just that he never goes out of his way to be nice unless he really, really likes you.

TACTLESS. cass does not have a suave or like ??? persuasive bone in his body?? again he just says what he wants?? actually super like useless with an actual crush??? the kind of person who had a crush on someone as a kid and wrote them a little note that was like ‘get out of my school’ yk dsksd very mean to his crushes, will tease you mercilessly and get flustered and yeet at any reciprocation?? he doesn’t know what to do tf ??

DEDICATED. god, cass is like resilient and also so freaking ambitious and determined when he wants something?? unfortunately the olympics and like skating didn’t work out but he put his blood sweat and tears into that and whenever he finds what else he wants to do he will put that same energy into that too.

TEMPERMENTAL. it is so easy to piss cass off, but if it’s the right person it’s also really easy to make him laugh. like he hates most people, but his mood can be like so easily changeable. one second he’s laughing the next he’s punching some guy in the face. i’m making him sound kind of unhinged and sometimes he is but most of the time he’s chill.

CONFLICTING. god cass doesn’t say what he means sometimes, which kind of conflicts with him being blunt but like??? at any sign of affection cass is like NO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE when he really wants someone to stay around like skjdsj he’s got big tsundere energy sometimes and i hate it. very bad at apologizing, very bad at like admitting when he’s wrong, very bad at like receiving or reciprocating affection unless it’s the right person because his parents and grandfather never hugged him sdkjsd

DESTRUCTIVE. literally the type to like to set things on fire sdkjsdj obsessed with bonfire nights cause he can just burn things. will explode things for fun on his youtube channel occasionally. like big chaotic aries energy people.

FUN FACTS *covers up real feeling with aggressive sarcasm*

polish is his first language and he mostly learned english through tv and video games. he has a knack for languages as well, like he can pick them up fairly easily, but he’s honestly better with his body. has a thick ass polish accent though and he probably used to get teased for it when he was younger but anyone who would tease him for it would get their ass beat so skjdsjk was it worth it??

one smacked a guy with his skateboard so hard it straight snapped in half. that’s the level of aggression we’re coming with today.

was raised catholic, and is still kind of a god fearing boy. still goes to church like religiously despite his grandfather not being around. will wear a pressed white button down and then someone will point out there’s like blood on the collar dskjdsj *cass vc* oh fuck

lives in hoodies about a size too big for him, the colour black and combat boots. general angry and all the adults in town are like casimir sweetie you should wear something bright it’ll make you look like less of a ghost and like half of them get the finger for it which results in a smack upside the head for your boy.

very competitive. like incredibly competitive. cass needs to win or he’ll die basically.

bisexual as all hell. is kind of tentative about it because ??? will god hate him ??? but he is attracted to both men and women and he’s pretty sure god hates him already so

absolutely adores video game apps. has like a thousand on his phone, and is constantly idly playing them, lie whenever cass has nothing to do he’s playing video games

has a skateboard, tends to ride it like everywhere. catch cass riding through town either smoking or vaping, squeezing in the gaps between people and causing chaos. it’s his vibe.

a dog person BIG TIME! has a big lovable white dog named snieg and he loves her, she is the only roommate he ever wants to have and he is kissing her constantly sdkjdsk catch cass only smiling at this dog ever tbh

sleep talks and sleep walks especially when he’s stressed. cass will walk into the middle of the street asleep honestly which is exactly why he should never move to the city.

also smokes when he’s stressed. smokes a lot of weed, might even experiment with some other stuff while he’s partying because yeah his body was a temple but now?? fuck it sdkjds

like i said his grandpa was highkey the town drunk. cass had to drag him out of bars regularly and like bring him home and he also literally like climbed on top of like town square drunk af on like christmas day sdkjsdj * cass vc * gET DOWN YOU OLD FUCK!!! IF YOU DIE I’LL BLOW YOUR LIFE INSURANCE ON HOOKERS!! sdkjdsk so yeah basically the zabeks were chaotic but lowkey cass misses his grandfathers drunk ass he visits him in prison like once a month.

WANTED CONNECTIONS *how to catch feelings and then throw them into the fire where they belong*

i always love getting rivalry connections for cass so a RIVAL please and thanks.

a PARTNER IN CRIME of sorts! someone who he can turn to just cause havoc and such??? whenever they’re together people know it’s trouble.

lowkey a CONSCIENCE?? someone who can be the little voice in the back of cass’ head mayhaps. who can convince him that attempting to use someone’s roof as a skateboarding ramp might not be a good idea you know. keep him sane, keep him alive.

someone who cass feels comfortable discussing his feelings with?? like a CONFIDANTE. this would probably have to be a true legend and a super rare person??? just someone who can listen to cass’ crap and just be there for him you know. likely his soft spot tbh

someone who casimir absolutely hates with every fibre of his being. give me that HATESHIP. someone who he wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. it could be mutual or onesided.

someone who has maybe been in a few of cass’ vlogs that the internet like ships him with??? could be fun. there are like edits of them everywhere, they have a ship name, and cass wants to murder the world.

an EX because i always love that kind of stuff. cass is the worst at relationships but he is always all in emotionally. it probably would have been a lot of fighting and arguing but also good when it was good honestly we can plot it out.

the JACKIE TO HIS HYDE please and thank you. it’s what we deserve.

FRIENDS of course i nearly forgot but like friends please. maybe the couple of people who could tolerate him in high school??

and finally.... FWBS or EWBs because why not, that’s as much as cass can handle emotionally.

omg i lied cause also A CRUSH! like a childhood crush on cass’ part, or on your muse’s part, or a crush that has just arisen now an cass lke avoids them like the plague for it. although if cass has a crush on your muse just be prepared for him to be irrationally kind of mean because he doesn’t know how to emotion.

a SIBLING LIKE RELATIONSHIP!! big brother for cass, or cass can be the big brother, a big sister for cass, or a little sister. i’m here for it all whether it’s bickering siblings or protective siblings that would do anything for each other. a kind of found family thing if you will, please and thanks.

and absolutely anything else! i am one hundred percent happy to brainstorm something if none of these catch your eye so like this and i’ll hit you up! or react to me on discord either works tbh

#milton:intro #c.z. | bio.#finally finished #sexy we love to see it

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lichbarry · 5 years ago

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The Mighty Nein as Area 51 Raid Positions

For all of your Modern AU needs. These are just my hot takes and interpretations of what the roles do based on what I’ve seen in the group. (Position explanations are in parentheses)

Beau: Naruto Runner/Kyle

Originally I had her as just being a Kyle since she can do all the crazy monk shit, but she’s Hasted often enough that she could be a Kyle that charges with the Naruto Runners instead of staying behind with the holding line.

(Naruto Runners run like Naruto to move faster than the bullets and are going to rush from the sides. Kyles are powered by Monster Energies and act as barriers for whoever they’re protecting.)

Yasha: Kyle

Pretty straightforward. She’s a Sentinel barbarian. Of course she’s going to be a tank.

Caleb: Rock Thrower/Catering

Caleb was one of the harder ones to figure out. He’s good at distance attacks, obviously, but also does a large amount of party support. He might start off as a rock thrower and alternate between distance artillery and running supplies through the line.

(Rock throwers stand in a line behind the Kyles and pelt the compound guards with rocks. Catering handles and distributes all the food people bring for the potluck.)

Nott: Naruto Runner/Karen

Being a rogue, Nott would inherently be fit for rush and infiltration. She’s also very much a wine Mom and is prepared to go full suburban on anyone keeping her from her goal.

(Karens, from what I understand, are middle aged wine moms who will unleash their white fury on Area 51 and ask to see its manager.)

Fjord: Rock Thrower/Florida Man

Fjord was also a hard one for me to assign. He’s not a coward, far from it, but he’s also not as fast or intimate as Beau is. I feel like his Eldritch Blasts translate to rock artillery pretty well. He’s also the half of Florida Man who things just happen to- wild shit, Deck of Many Things level shit. Shit that only Travis Willingham can get up to on accident.

(Florida Man references the phenomenon of extremely unusual news headlines surrounding men from Florida, who are typically only named as “Florida Man”, creating the mythos that it’s all the same man.)

Jester: Naruto Runner/Florida Man

Picture Jester Naruto running and then see why I chose her for it. She’s not always the first to go infiltrate, but she is an initiator, and would absolutely Naruto run if given the opportunity. Jester is the second half of a Florida Man, who actively seeks out and does crazy shit that ends up getting reported on. Where Fjord is a passive Florida Man, she is an active one.

Caduceus: Catering(/Alien)

As the cleric that cooks all of the food, of course Caduceus would be manning the potluck. He could take direct action if he wanted to, but he’s mostly there to provide aid and watch this all play out. Alternatively, he could also be one of the aliens the raiders are setting out to free, or a relative of ones that have been trapped inside.

Mollymauk: Cheek Clapper (/Alien)

You had to know this was coming. Mollymauk would be with the infiltration party, but he’s not going to care about the guards or anything else- he’s going to go straight for the aliens to make acquaintance and act as raiding ambassador. If they’ll allow him, he would be glad to free the aliens so that he can be among the first to clap those cheeks. Alternatively, or perhaps in addition, he could be an alien or other sort of experiment originating from Area 51 and simply not remember it. Maybe Mollymauk is returning home.

(Just in case, cause you never know- cheek clapping is taking someone in the ass. Clapping their ass cheeks.)

#mighty nein #m9 #area 51 raid #mighty nein modern au #modern au #headcanons #m9 headcanons #this is very serious guys i put a lot of thought into it

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beccasbigworld · 4 years ago

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Superhero Films: What Should The Future Of This Genre Be?

Government Name and Past History:

Ivy Grace Valentine, an American anti-hero with an unfortunate childhood. She was born on August 11th, 1983, in the upstairs of a tiny apartment in upper Manhattan, New York City, in the neighborhood of Manhattan. Her mother Amelia lee Valentine, age 31 when she had Ivy, had rejected her the moment she was born. Ivy had never had the raw connection of her mother’s touch. It was nearly impossible considering that her mother was mentally ill. She was diagnosed with Bipolar affective disorder when Ivy was two years old. Her father was never in the picture, Ivy’s mother would tell her that once she got pregnant with her he vanished off the face of the earth. She has no other siblings and grew up isolated from the real world. Her mother would tell her that the outside world was dangerous and she had to stay in the apartment complex. Ivy’s childhood was tragic and she didn’t have support from anyone. Any family she did have was from her father’s side and because of his disappearance they never talked. When Ivy was five years old, her mother’s mental illness was getting out of hand and she started to verbally and physically abuse her. The neighbors in their apartment complex heard a commotion and called the police. The cities, social security workers, and child protective services had to get involved and they decided that separating Ivy from her mother was the best option. Her mother ended up facing court and was charged with the endangerment of a child. She was brought to manhattan’s mental health hospital and that is where she is currently residing. Ivy was brought to the city's local children foster care complex where she would stay as she got older. She was raised by the foster care system. At the age of ten, she was told that her mother had put her up for adoption because she was incapable of taking care of her. It took until age 13 when a younger couple came into the facility asking to meet the kids because they were interested in adopting a child. The agent told them about 13-year-old Ivy Grace Valentine and her story and they fell in love with her. They adopted her on December 21st, 1996 and that would be the first time Ivy felt like someone genuinely cared and wanted her in their lives. Her foster parents are Jamie Andrews and Todd Andrews, a young couple that sadly was unable to conceive a child and decided to look into the adoption process. They lived in a nice suburban neighborhood in WestChester, New York. They gave Ivy anything and everything she could ever ask for. They helped her heal from the unfortunate childhood she was given. At the age of 18, Ivy had finally graduated high school with the help of Jamie and Todd. Ivy didn’t have plans after high school, she stayed home and worked at a local diner while trying to figure out her destiny.

Current History:

On Tuesday, March 18th, 2001, Ivy had been working at the diner when two men in suits and dark shades came in and sat at the booth of the establishment. She overheard them talking about a woman in a manhattan Mental hospital who had escaped because the government did secret tests on her in an underground lab. Right away she had the gut feeling that they were talking about her mother. That night instead of going straight home after work she got on the highway and headed for the city. She parked down the street from the hospital and put a hood over her head. She was able to sneak in, she went through the dark hallways and found the file room where she searched for her mother's file. It was nowhere to be found. Ivy went snooping around for anything she could find as a sign of her mother. She was running out of time until she heard a loud boom that felt like it came from the basement. She crept down the staircase, three floors until she saw the basement door. It had a small glass window and it had a red glow. She peeked through and saw men in hazard suits working on some scientific experiments. Her curiosity led her further as she crept into the lab. These men were discussing a material, they called Lithium, that could wipe out a person’s mental illness however, they wouldn’t use it positively. They would wipe out a person's brain and hypnotize them into minions that would only inhabit what they taught them. They wanted to take over the city and if they could train and develop a person’s brain into only knowing to follow a higher authority and cause destruction they could. Ivy was in disbelief, she was the only one that knew that this was going on and she was confused why they used her mother as a test subject. She wondered if they had cleared her mind of all memories? Before she got out of there in time, she had bumped into a box, causing a loud bang. The men heard and saw her shadow run along the wall. They started to throw the chemical at her, maybe thinking it would be the first person they infect. It hit her and she screamed in agony. She suddenly started to breathe heavily as these men stood in disbelief. Her hair started to turn green, her eyes were bloodshot and her psyche became bigger. Her arms muscles were more defined and her voice was deeper than before. The Lithium that hit her didn’t erase her memory instead, it made her into a stronger, green-haired superwoman. She stood up and turned towards the men. They started to run but before they could Ivy clenched her fist and punched it forward causing a wave of destructive energy to lift the men off of the floor and killed them.

At this moment Ivy had realized she had developed the superpower of extreme energy and force. It allowed her with the simple move of her arm to cause mass destruction. Ivy was invincible now. She had green hair, was 5’8, had pale white skin, bloodshot eyes, and a defined body that gave her a boost of confidence. She felt like she could conquer anything. Her childhood fueled her into thinking that she could survive anything. Instead of this power, allowing her to do positive things the only thing she wanted to do was find her mother. She felt empowered, smarter, and lighter because the weight of her childhood wasn’t on her shoulders. She possessed the chemical Lithium in her system and like the men had discussed in the basement of erasing people’s memories she wanted to use the power she had to tell her mom her childhood the way she had always wanted it to be. How Jamie and Todd had raised her. Ivy’s character is an anti-hero because her only focus is to change her mother’s memory on a fantasy, she isn’t using her powers for good or to help the city. She is doing it out of trauma from her childhood. Ivy was neglected, abandoned, and still somehow cared about her mother that she was willing to “fix” her so she could live the life with her that she had always wanted. Ivy is an advocate for getting revenge, she advocated for allowing people to change a person the wrong way and fighting for something that is not meant to be. Ivy after on the journey to find her mother doesn’t use her powers for anything. She ended up finding her mother in a local shelter because she was found by an older woman laying on the street. Ivy then sat with her mother and with her extreme force hypnotized her brain into only remembering what Ivy was telling her. She stated, “you have no mental illness, your daughter Ivy is your greatest gift and you cherish her and love her more than anything in this world. Your goal is to make her happy, and yourself happy, we live in a grand house with a rose-red door and we live happily”. Her mother obtains the information and since that moment is a different woman. Her mother does anything and everything for her. Ivy was lucky that the lab didn’t kill her mother but she is also lucky that she obtained this power because if not she was planning on killing her mother in revenge for how she treated her. In a sense, Ivy is an anti-hero and villain because she only cares for herself and wants revenge instead of coping with the situation in a healthy way. Ivy had to spend her childhood being beaten by her mother and living with her mental illness. Ivy and her mother ended up leaving New York and now they are living in a house in a suburban neighborhood in the down of Boulder Colorado. Ivy dyed her hair back to blonde and has contacts for her bloodshot eyes. She wears long sleeves and pants while out in public to hide her intense muscles.

I believe that Ivy’s character is most likened to Deadpool, Batman, and Joker from the Marvel Cinematic and Dc Universe because she is a dark-hearted girl, who has a terrible upbringing that changes her whole life around. Similar to the stories of Joker, Batman, and Deadpool because they all have a certain situation that transforms them into the hero/anti-hero and villain. Batman had to watch his parents be killed in front of his own eyes when he was a young boy. Deadpool’s body is disfigured in the use of torture and it affects his love life and his social life. He seeks revenge similar to Ivy on the person that “ruined” his life and has no mercy for what he does. Joker based on the 2019 film is living with an extreme mental illness that makes him stand out to a crowd. His whole life he is called out for being weird and he is looked down upon. He takes care of his mother who he learns was never his real mother at all and he kills her. He destroys the city of Gotham and it causes an uproar of support from people who were also misunderstood and want change. Ivy’s childhood causes her to seek revenge when she hears her mother has escaped due to a scientific experiment. She knows that her mother's mind is blank and with her power she can transform her life the way that she wants it to be.

Future:

Ivy’s future is filled with some bliss, she hasn’t died, she still lives in Boulder Colorado with her mother. She eventually had to change her name because her adopted parents had an investigation put out on her disappearance. Her new name is Synia Lynn Coldmire, and she and her mother live a quiet life with little social interaction to avoid them being discovered. Ivy doesn’t know what would happen if the higher authority found out of her powers. Ivy Grace Valentine now known as Synia Lynn Coldmire, left a negative legacy on the human race because she gave the idea that revenge and changing a person’s memory if given the power could fix all of their problems. Ivy was lucky that she was given this power in the first place because if not she would still have to live her whole life without her biological mother and heal from her experiences. She was given a power that was dangerous to society and selfishly used it for her good. She left her adoptive parents. Jamie and Todd in the dust granted they were the only people that gave her a sense of peace and love. She left a legacy of selfishness. However, even though her mother is cured of her mental illness and only remembers to love Ivy, Ivy has to live knowing that without that power her mother would have never cared about her. Now she lives in fear of being caught by the government. What a life.

#superheores #villian #anti hero

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bestbabyswingsguide-blog · 7 years ago

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Best Baby Swings for Colic

Consider the benefits and drawbacks associated with getting one of the best baby swings below. A great way to build your fitness routine more fun, and rewarding, is to have your pals join a person inside it. Rather then experiencing several goods, one only have to pay for you, which inturn equally will save you you will some funds along the way. Gliders are one of the most innovative types of baby swings. Show him that you are listening and understanding him whether or not you have no clue what he’s talking about. You don’t always have to turn on the swinging motion, so it doubles up as a chair for them. This swing does not have a tray, but I have never really understood the use for trays on baby swings, as if they are young enough for the swing, they are too young to use a tray. Publisher: Matthew McKernan There are different types of automatic gates to meet all of your needs. There is a mobile that has a reflective mirror and bird that flies around to give your little one something to entertain themselves, as well as helping them to develop a sense of awareness and visual tracking and eye movement. With soothing motion, a baby swing is a great way to keep your little one occupied and close at hand while you work, clean, or take a well-deserved break.

Baby gift baskets for this can then be designed in such a way that it depicts cute baby eating time. Suitable from birth, the Bright Starts Cosy Kingdom baby swing features a comfortable padded seat complete with a head support and a fun toybar with two sweet animal toys for baby to enjoy. Keep large toys away from the gate to prevent a child from using them to climb over. This was in 1969 and ever since, Kids II, which is the parent company for Bright Starts, has created a variety of items such as centres for activities, toys for infants and toddlers, play yards, high chairs and many others. Having essential baby items at Grandma's house makes the "over the mountains and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go" trip easier for the new Mom and Dad, and new Grandchild of course. Choose one which can provide more security but will not give you a hard time removing baby. This is anything but a simple quest, as you will soon realize that there numerous models available on the market and it might be difficult to choose the right one for you.

Some of these are also suitable right from birth. Publisher: Henri Kalm There are quite many things to secure as a homeowner. Lastly, there is of course a timer to switch off the vibration, a removable translucent canopy, a tray with a mirror, toy and teether. It focuses the brain by programming its reticular activating system (RAS) to notice available resources that were always there but previously unnoticed. If you want to buy a swing, you need to know the type first. What type of objects would I use? Max user weight 25kg. Suitable for outdoor, domestic use only. Circuit training enables you to burn off fat whilst strengthening your muscles, so you get faster outcomes. Watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills s02e03 streaming online creates interest in Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Season 2 Episode 3 megavideo as if I ought to get rid of watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills s02e03 full frustration. Second child couldn't keep anything down.

These phytonutrients help bolster the immune system, provide anti-inflammatory benefits, keep your heart healthy, provide energy and protect your bones, among many, many other things. Publisher: Ashley Barclay Here's a list of things to check out when purchasing baby gates: Installation. They can sooth the baby for quite some time as one does other duties in the house. Look for an infant swing that allows these two positions plus one or two more in between. More importantly, the safety of your child is also at stake. Then, as your child grows, you can easily remove the toy bar and convert it to a toddler rocker, for children up to 40 lbs. These fears or your parrot’s shyness can challenge you and your parrot. A good drill can give you a lot of flexibility when installing screws. Give each player a bowl of cotton balls to rest in their lap, plus a large spoon. Infants and newly born babies enjoy the soothing effects that come from baby swings and bouncers. This product is designed to hold babies up to 30 pounds. This item folds away nice and neatly so it can be stored by the side of the sofa, or neatly by the wall.

Popsicle sticks - You can buy these at craft store at reasonable prices. Learn something with every practice swing and soon you'll be swinging less on the course. Swing by the houses the professional labored on to examine their high quality. What To Consider In Buying Baby Swings? When buying books for first time parents, you may want to consider classics like "Goodnight Moon", "Pat the Bunny" and many other titles. It’s also a nice cozy place similar to the mother’s womb, which offers a nice transition for infants in the first 3 months of their life. The first 4 months were a nightmare. It is not about how many swings you perform. If perchance you estimated the doctor along with your devoted performance then you’re already desiredWith each other you and others tense ! Balloon passing game. Two teams at least (each with a minimum of 5 people in). Infants cry. Sometimes they cry for an extended period of time with no obvious reason.

Best Baby Swings on the Market

I have recently put on a lot of weight but didn't think that much about getting the best baby swings. It makes life so much easier as a mum as I can pop baby in the swing whilst I tidy up after my toddler or make a cup of tea. The crib, the changing table, the toys…how can such a little person need so much stuff? You can hear examples of swing in all kinds of music, from Big Band numbers like "In The Mood" to songs such as "My Baby Just Cares for Me" as in the video below. The open top also makes it less complicated to take my baby out of the swing for the reason that there is no best bar finding in the way. The pendulum went the other way. Here are some vital features that you have to look for in buying these products. Child Phat trend designs are ideal for everybody no matter how dressed up or dressed down they need their look to be.

The swing frame is a fundamental part because it prevents the swing from toppling over. KidsSports are considered to be an important part of kids’ lives across most suburban American areas. The swings by Graco are amazing. Buy the Graco Glider LX Gliding Swing here. There are a number of reasons why parents buy this swing. Buy the Fisher-Price 4-in-1 Rock ‘n Glide Soother here. Some infants have suffered serious injuries or died. As you welcome summer fun this year, be sure to add a couple of these must have staples to your baby clothesshopping list. With the right swing to help you by, you just have to focus on their eating and feeding times as well as checking their diapers regularly. Keep your right leg straight behind you and lower your body until your right knee until it very nearly hits the floor. So, not only do lunges help you quickly lose weight, they’ll also help you build your leg muscles which means you’ll be burning calories while you rest. If you cannot decide on the style or fabric while buying spring jackets, then a simple classic denim jacket can serve the purpose.

Now that you understand the idea and purpose of a baby jumper, I am hoping you’re getting excited about shopping for your first jumper for your baby! Does Your Baby Need a Swing? A baby swing that has 5-point harness is more desirable since it is more secure than one that has a 3-point harness. For a parent, trying to get only the best for your baby is an uphill task. Place the baby swing in the best place that you prefer. This swing model is constructed to comfort your baby to sleep with its fifteen incorporated nature songs and lullabies. A battery-operated model with a remote, wall-mounted switch was introduced 2 years ago, but it may no longer be available. And at that point, you may start to feel like the swing is causing more problems than it’s solving! Not only children but also adults like swinging! With a turn of the seat, you can soothe baby with two different ways to swing: side-to-side cradle-like motion or head-to-toe swinging motion. This can keep your baby entertained.

For instance; the Group 0 best baby swings or such infant carriers can keep the baby concerned in rear-facing position that can be placed in position with standard adult seat belt or ISOFix fitting. When the baby is older, there is a mirror globe and a bird mobile that plays soft tunes. There are several swing speeds, a swing timer, a 5 point harness, and a buckle cover. When shopping for a swing baby gate, there are obviously many choices. Publisher: Umar Hayat There are many among you who are not sure about the fisher price baby swings. As far as the flavors, for myself I enjoy the Menthol 1. There are typically a number of various choices. See to it that the features you want are present including and more importantly the safety features. However, it has built in safety feature which will stop the swing after 4 hours of usage. What is the recommended age to use a baby swing?

Resources:

Best Baby Swings Review ( Dec. 2017 ) - Buyer's Guide

Baby jumper - Wikipedia

BEST BABY SWINGS AND ROCKERS - WEEBLY

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disappearingground · 5 years ago

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Jenny Lewis Escapes the Void

Pitchfork March 21, 2019

After a turbulent childhood and two decades of brilliantly vulnerable songs, the L.A. idol has finally arrived at something like happiness.

By Jenn Pelly

Jenny Lewis and I are in her brown Volvo, idling outside her childhood home. On a Tuesday afternoon in Los Angeles’ San Fernando Valley, we are two blocks from Van Nuys Middle School, where Lewis once sang “Killing Me Softly” in a talent show and got suspended for flashing a peace sign in a class photo (it was mistaken for a gang symbol). We are walking distance from what used to be a Sam Goody record store on Van Nuys Boulevard, where Lewis once bought a life-changing tape of De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising, stoking her obsession with magnetic wordplay, as well as her first Bright Eyes CD, Fevers and Mirrors, which she quickly shared with the three men in her burgeoning indie band, Rilo Kiley, in the early 2000s.

We are not far from the bar where Lewis’ older sister, Leslie, sings in a cover band every Saturday, following in the tradition of their parents, who sang covers in a Las Vegas lounge act called Love’s Way in the 1970s. And that strip-mall pub is just across from the movie theater where Lewis and her mother once conspired to steal a cardboard cutout of Lewis’ 13-year-old self—a souvenir from when, as one of the busiest child actors of her generation, she starred alongside Fred Savage in the 1989 video game flick The Wizard.

Lewis left the Valley alone when she was 16 and vowed to never go back. “That was my number one goal: just to get out,” she tells me now, at 43. But on the occasion of her fourth solo record, On the Line, I asked for a tour of her past life, and here we are—Lewis in a royal blue jumpsuit, with electric blue sneakers and eyeliner to match; me, staring up at the rainbow of buttons fastened to the sun visor of her passenger seat, a collage that includes Bob Dylan, a peace sign, and a hot-orange sad face.

From the driver’s seat, behind her oversized shades, Lewis mentions the Bob Marley blacklight poster that once hung in her Van Nuys bedroom, and I imagine the scores of teenage bedroom walls that have made space for her own iconic image through the years. Lewis’ catalog of cleverly morbid, storytelling songs with Rilo Kiley and the Watson Twins ushered a generation of young listeners through suburban ennui and personal becoming—like a wise older sister we could visit on our iPods, offering an example of how to do something smart and cool with your sadness and your solitude.

In the mid-2000s, Lewis was like an indie rock Joni Mitchell for the soul-bearing Livejournal era, or an emo Dylan, the poet laureate of AIM away messages. Words—some cryptic, some elegant, some brutally, achingly direct—burst from the edges of her diaristic songs, with a dash of Didion-esque deadpan for good measure. It’s no surprise that Lewis’ earliest bedroom recordings were just Casio beats and what she describes as “raps.” Lewis was the first feminine voice I ever encountered leading a band outside the mainstream, with a sound that initially befuddled my ears because it was, in that overwhelmingly male indie era, so rare: a woman’s plainspoken voice.

Cruising around L.A. together, my mind maps the California of her lyrics. What does it mean for the palm trees to “bow their heads”? What becomes of the cheating, California-bound man in Rilo Kiley’s filmic “Does He Love You”—the soulful rave-up where Lewis belted the heroic mantra, “I am flawed if I’m not free!”? But my most pressing question, the one I must ask Lewis: Is California still “a recipe for a black hole,” as she sang on 2001’s “Pictures of Success”? “I guess it’s all the void,” she tells me straight. “It’s not really geographical. That’s what you find out on your adventures. It doesn’t really matter where you go. You accompany yourself there.”

The main destination of our Van Nuys excursion is the small ranch home of Lewis’ youth—or rather, homes, as there are two, practically adjacent. It’s a little complicated, I learn, as are many things with Lewis’ upbringing.

Lewis was born in Vegas on Elvis Presley’s birthday. In 1976, her parents and sister were living out of suitcases on the road, playing Carpenters and Sonny and Cher songs at casinos like the Sands, the Mint, and the Tropicana. “My mom was so pregnant but she would not miss a show,” recalls Leslie, who was 8 at the time. “Jenny would be kicking her on stage, and I remember seeing my mom flinch. I think that was Jenny saying, ‘Let me out, I want to sing!’”

Soon after Lewis was born, her parents divorced, and her father, Eddie Gordon, left the family and continued his career as one of the world’s leading harmonica virtuosos. Lewis’ mother, Linda, moved back to her native Los Angeles, working three jobs to rebuild a life with her daughters. At 2-and-a-half years old, Lewis was discovered by the powerful Hollywood agent Iris Burton (a young Drew Barrymore and the Olsen Twins were among her clients) after the toddler spontaneously wandered over to her table in a restaurant.

When Lewis was 5, she was already supporting Leslie and their mom with her commercial and TV acting, and they bought their humble first home, the one we’re visiting. “But we always used to dream about the house on the corner,” Lewis says, slowly circling the block, “so then my mom bought that house, too.” It’s two doors down, looks pretty similar—why dream of it? “Because it was right there,” Lewis says, “and it was nicer than the one we had!” (A 1992 L.A. Times headline dubbed Lewis “A Teen-Age Actress With 3 Mortgages”—she owned a townhouse in North Hollywood by then as well—calling her “the youngest member of the United Homeowners Association.”) “I know it’s confusing,” Lewis says. “This is part of the simulation; this is craziness. Why did we also want that house?” She erupts into a cackle. “None of this makes any fucking sense.”

In life as in her songs, Lewis is a consummate storyteller, mindful of how tiny details make a great tale. In the car, for instance, she tells me about the time she played Lucille Ball’s granddaughter on the notoriously bad 1986 sitcom “Life With Lucy.” It was the last show Lucy ever starred in, and it was canceled before the first season even finished. The mood was blue, but a wrap party was still planned, and Lewis’ mother convinced Lucy to have the gathering at their little house in Van Nuys. “So Lucy rolled up with her two dogs,” Lewis remembers. “She walked in the front door, looked around, and said, ‘What a dump!’”

Lewis’ mother typically attracted fascinating characters to the house—like the producers of the TV special “Circus of the Stars,” who trained Lewis in trapeze; or “Fantasy Island” star Hervé Villechaize, who came over for a scammy “Pyramid Party”; or The Exorcist writer William Peter Blatty. One year on Halloween, at the recommendation of the family’s illusionist friend—who, according to Leslie, levitated Jenny in their house—her mother invited over Ghostbusters star Dan Aykroyd’s brother Peter, who was himself a real-life ghost buster. Peter planned to “check out the levels” of the house.

Intrigued by the Lewis’ paranormal investigation, the local news showed up. Back then, Lewis was hanging out with fellow child actors Sarah Gilbert, Toby Maguire, and Leonardo DiCaprio—who also came through to scope things out. Recalling the ghost-busting scene, Lewis says, “They came over and set up their vague, infrared equipment and they captured some sort of reading coming down the hallway and going into my childhood bedroom.”

I ask Lewis if the ghostbusters’ findings felt accurate. “Well, totally,” she says. “Something was going on. We always had weird vibes in the house. Very dark vibes.”

In person, Lewis’ temperament is one of constant cheer. She radiates positivity, takes bong rips in her kitchen, says “dope” and “vibe” often. This sunny disposition is occasionally punctuated by looks of deep, welling concern for others—as if she is on the brink of tears for humanity. Still, she calls herself a “total skeptic,” and tells me that show business trained her, early on, to master the art of getting along. “I didn’t ever wanna be one of the dicks on set—like in a family situation, where one person can really fuck up Thanksgiving,” she says, before veering into more existential territory. “We all know we’re careening towards the end of humanity. I just wanna do my work and hang out with my people.”

It’s only later, while sipping Modelos at the dining room table of her quaint ranch house in the hills of Studio City, that Lewis reveals the source of her childhood home’s “dark vibes” was her mother’s lifelong heroin addiction. “It is painful to go back there,” Lewis tells me. “I get a weird feeling. I don’t know if the ghostbusters could have detected it, but there was some kind of energy that was not conducive to survival. So when I left, I left.”

“My mom was an addict my entire life, and it was a fucking rollercoaster,” she continues. “It lent itself to some amazing situations, but it was manic as fuck, and there were drugs constantly. It’s a lifestyle, and it’s a community to grow up around. I feel grateful for having been witness to some pretty outrageous human behavior from a young age. Nothing really shocks me.”

Leslie attests to their complicated home environment, and recalls “stepping over people trying to find my books to go to school.” She became a mother figure to Jenny, taking her little sister to school on her bicycle and making sure she did her homework. Leslie was just a teenager when she put it together that their mother was pushing Jenny’s acting money into buying drugs and, ultimately, selling them. “It was a terrible realization for both Jenny and I to have,” Leslie says. “I give our mom a lot of credit for being resourceful prior to that. We probably wouldn’t be talking to you today if she hadn’t been so inventive and so diligent. But it escalated.”

When Jenny quit acting in her early 20s, Leslie wasn’t surprised. “I remember her finally having the burden lifted off her shoulders, that she didn’t need to support our mom anymore, and she didn’t need to be told what to do anymore—she was free,” Leslie says. “Her agents were calling me, asking ‘What the hell’s going on? We’re booking her in all this stuff.’ It was a big deal for her to walk away. But she had to do it. I think she didn’t want to be saying other people’s words anymore.” Leslie recalls the bubbly dialogue Lewis would have to recite on screen and adds, “That’s just not where she was at in her life.”

Focusing on her own words, Lewis arrived instead at death, disease, loneliness, deflated dreams. Rilo Kiley’s 2002 breakthrough The Execution of All Things opens with a hushed monologue from Lewis about the melting ground. On the title track, she sings genially of a will to “murder what matters to you most and move on to your neighbors and kids.” Disguised by twee album art, Rilo Kiley created an indie rock uncanny valley, a sweet-sung pop moroseness of Morrissey-like proportions.

The centerpiece of Execution is a gritted-teeth fight song called “A Better Son/Daughter.” It bursts from a music-box twinkle to a monumental marching-band wallop, from a depressed paralysis to refurbished self-worth, from “your mother […] calling you insane and high, swearing it’s different this time” to “not giving in to the cries and wails of the Valley below.” In the past, Lewis has rarely discussed how her own biography fits into her songs, but the sense of hard-earned triumph and conviction powering this particular song is unequivocal. When I ask what might have inspired its climax—“But the lows are so extreme/That the good seems fucking cheap”—she simply remarks, “I mean everything I say.”

In 2006, Lewis wrote the fablistic title ballad of her solo masterpiece, Rabbit Fur Coat, to convey the feeling of her story—a mother waitressing on welfare in the Valley, the promise of a working child, a fortune that fades—if not the concrete details, which, she says, don’t really matter. But the haunting “Rabbit Fur Coat” laid her mythology bare. “I became a hundred-thousand-dollar kid/When I was old enough to realize/Wiped the dust from my mother’s eyes,” Lewis sings, the last line quivering into a moment of piercing a capella. “Is all this for that rabbit fur coat?”

I ask Lewis where she thinks her optimism comes from, and she just says “survival.” This summarizes an equation of emotional resilience that more women than not are tasked with solving young. “Jenny has basically been on her own her entire life,” says her best friend, the musician Morgan Nagler. “She’s the definition of buoyant.”

It’s hard to imagine rock in 2019 without Lewis’ radical honesty, without her hyper-lyrical mix of the sweet and the sinister. “In the early 2000s, the really big indie artists were Bright Eyes and Death Cab for Cutie, and Jenny was one of the only women fronting that kind of music,” says Katie Crutchfield, aka Waxahatchee. “But in the next generation after that in indie music, there are so many women. How could she not have been a huge part of that?”

Crutchfield, now an indie figurehead in her own right, says no songwriter has directly influenced her more than Lewis. When she was still a 20-year-old punk living in Alabama, Crutchfield got the cover of The Execution of All Things tattooed prominently on her arm. Lewis’ odd, poppy, poetic songs had a musicality she hadn’t found in punk, but they still spoke to her as an outcast.

Seeing Rilo Kiley play for the first time—at a Birmingham venue she would go on to play herself—was a watershed moment. Crutchfield and her two sisters stood front row center, sang every word, and cried. “It was so huge to see a woman on stage holding a guitar, being powerful but still very feminine,” Crutchfield says. “That was my first foray into seeing that as a possibility for myself.” She recalls the exact outfit Lewis wore that night: red leather skirt, knee socks, T-shirt tucked in, and “a belt that was like a ruler—something you would see on a teacher.”

When Eva Hendricks, singer of sugarrushing New York pop-rock band Charly Bliss, was still in high school, she would spend days writing Lewis’ lyrics in her notebooks over and over, becoming attuned to the virtues of unsparing openness in songwriting. “Listening to that music unlocked something I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to understand about myself,” says Hendricks, who also appreciated how Lewis never downplayed her femininity. She distinctly recalls going to a Lewis record signing around 2014’s The Voyager: “I waited in line and when it got to be my turn, the only thing I could think to say was, ‘I can’t believe that your voice is coming out of a real human being.’”

Harmony Tividad, of Girlpool, was 12 the first time she heard Rilo Kiley, and calls Execution’s “The Good That Won’t Come Out” one of her favorite songs of all time. “That song is more like a diary entry, and vulnerable in this way that feels like a secret,” Tividad says. The unvarnished album opener peaks with Lewis speak-singing, “You say I choose sadness, that it never once has chosen me/Maybe you’re right.”

“I was a really emotional, awkward young person and felt kind of socially trapped,” Tividad, now 23, reflects. “I was a freak. And that song is about exploring all of this stuff inside of yourself that you can’t really show people. It’s about isolation, which I have felt a lot. This music was a soundtrack to that recalibration of personhood. It was very integral in me developing a sense of self.”

Lewis has resided in the quiet show-biz neighborhood of Studio City—which she refers to as “Stud City”—for 11 years. She mentions that her current home is still, technically, located in the Valley, and shoots me a conspiratorial look: “Don’t tell anyone.” There are retro-looking landlines all around the house (cell service is poor), and eye-catching vintage Christmas bulbs strung in the kitchen window. The house was previously owned by the late Disney animator Art Stevens, who worked on Fantasia and Peter Pan. Standing amid dozens of plants in the little green room at the heart of her home, sipping a coconut La Croix, Lewis enthuses about Mort Garson’s obscure 1976 electronic record, called Mother Earth’s Plantasia. The whole place has an air of magic.

Its infrastructure has been unchanged for decades, which stuck out to a location scout for Quentin Tarantino’s upcoming Charles Manson film, who knocked on the door one day and asked to take some photos. He did not return, but his business card is on Lewis’ refrigerator, alongside one from legendary songwriter Van Dyke Parks, and a Bob Dylan backstage pass. The fridge is mostly covered with hospital stickers from when Lewis was visiting her mom, who died of cancer in 2017, and inspired her new song “Little White Dove.”

The other big change in Lewis’ life was the dissolution of her 12-year relationship with singer-songwriter Jonathan Rice—after which, to shake up the energy of the house, Lewis’ friend and photographer Autumn de Wilde painted the walls of her bedroom a striking shade of rose. Directly outside the door is a life-size photo of her best friend Morgan, and the window of her bedroom, spanning the right wall, looks out to a built-in pool. The sill holds carefully arranged objects: ruby slippers, her passport, a candle, a plethora of sunglasses, and a violet notebook labeled “Lewis homework for On the Line.”

Talking with Lewis, the despairing elephant in the room is Ryan Adams, who played on the album. Two weeks before we meet, Adams was accused of sexual misconduct and emotional manipulation from musician Phoebe Bridgers, his ex-wife Mandy Moore, and others, including a woman who was allegedly 14 at the time, prompting a criminal investigation by the FBI. “The allegations are so serious and shocking and really fucked up, and I was so sad on so many levels when I heard,” Lewis tells me. “I hate that he’s on this album, but you can’t rewrite how things went. We started the record together two years ago, and he worked on it—we were in the studio for five days. Then he pretty much bounced, and I had to finish the album by myself.”

“This is part of my lifelong catalog,” Lewis continues. “The album is an extension of that thing that started back at my mom’s house—I had to save myself and my music, and get away from the toxicity. Ultimately, it’s me and my songs. I began in my bedroom with a tape recorder, and it was like my own fantasy world. I’ve taken all these weird turns in my life—with mostly men, sometimes women—but I feel like I’m finally back to that place, which is autonomy.”

Though On the Line features an impressive array of players—Beck, Rolling Stones producer Don Was, Dylan drummer Jim Keltner, literally Ringo Starr—the album marks the first time Lewis has penned an album of songs solo, without co-writers, since Rabbit Fur Coat. “I’m not fully myself when I’m co-writing,” Lewis admits, describing a directness to the songs she’s penned with men, like Rilo Kiley’s “Portions for Foxes,” as opposed to songs she’s written alone, like “Silver Lining.” “With the songs I’ve co-written, it’s almost as if there’s a trimming of the emotional, rambling, poetic hysteria, which is where I live when I’m writing by myself,” Lewis says. “I don’t think of songs structurally. It’s a feeling, and I’m chasing the feeling.”

The cover of On the Line is a close-up of Lewis’ chest in an ornate blue gown. She chose the snapshot intuitively, from a pile of Polaroids taken by de Wilde, and only later recognized it as a deep homage to her mom, who once dressed similarly in Vegas and had an identical mole between her breasts. “Over the years I’ve become more comfortable in my skin,” Lewis says. “It’s funny to feel good in your skin when it’s not quite as tight as it used to be.”

With her voice sounding more refined than ever, On the Line finds Lewis singing about getting head in a black Corvette, feeling “wicked,” and—on the devastatingly delicate “Taffy”—sending nudes to a lover she knows will leave. “There’s a lot of fantasy in my songs,” Lewis tells me. “Sadly, I don’t get that much action. I should have gotten more.” She says she has always written about sex as “character projection,” but when she did so on Rilo Kiley’s final album, 2007’s Under the Black Light, it polarized fans. Lewis recalls one journalist who made a flow chart claiming to correlate the declining quality of the band’s music and the shrinking size of her hot pants. “It was so puritanical,” she says. But as the borders between the underground, mainstream, and genre have broken down, the artists who Lewis inspired are continuing to make space for more expansive expressions of sexuality.

The new record’s sound is warm and sleek, and when Lewis says she listened primarily to Kanye’s recent work while mixing it, I recall yet another wacky tale she shared with me at her house: Once, circa 2008, Lewis chanced upon Kanye at an airport. He played her a cut from 808s and Heartbreaks, and she played him her sprawling psych-rock triptych “The Next Messiah.”

Listening to On the Line, I find myself fixated on “Wasted Youth,” which uses a jaunty piano arrangement to deliver its neatly bleak refrain: “I wasted my youth on a poppy.” Lewis then slyly draws a line from the drugs to our numbing daily realities. When she sings, “Everybody knows we’re in trouble/Doo doo doo doo doo/Candy Crush,” I can feel my phone festering in my palm.

“I feel like that song is more about Candy Crush than heroin, if that’s even fucking possible,” Lewis says. “That’s the fuckin’ end: Candy Crush. It’s terrifying. I feel like my brain has been taken over by one of those weird fungi that grow out of the head of an ant in the rainforest. It’s like we’re spracked out on our Instagrams. It makes me feel like shit even talking about it.”

By the bridge, however, Lewis offers a blunt jolt of hope: “We’re all here, then we’re gone/Do something while your heart is thumping!” That’s a surprisingly heartening sentiment from a songwriter who has referred to herself as “a walking corpse,” who once made a springy emo anthem entitled “Jenny, You’re Barely Alive.”

“I’m in my 40s and something has shifted,” she says, when I ask what she does these days to help herself through. “Maybe you’re more aware of your own mortality, and have the balls to walk away from things, and be untethered, and do the reflection and the hard work—getting your ass out of bed and walking a couple miles, going to the gym, talking to a therapist.”

Lewis says her relationships with her female friends have deepened profoundly in recent years. “Maybe this is what we’re picking up on: the collective consciousness,” she says. “Women are talking to one another more. Reaching out to my girlfriends has helped me through these lessons that keep coming up. It’s the same lesson, where I’m like, ‘How am I in this situation with this fucking person that’s crazy… again? Why am I here and why have I stayed this long?’ And then my girlfriends are there to go: ‘Get the fuck out of there!’” (She is clear that this is not about her relationship with Rice, but rather about other romantic and working partnerships.)

I tell Lewis that these get-me-out predicaments remind me of her own song, “Godspeed,” from 2008’s Acid Tongue, which I had been revisiting quite a bit lately—a golden-hour piano ballad from one woman to another, a paean to “keep the lighthouse in sight,” to get “up and out of his house,” because “no man should treat you like he do.” “I wrote that for my friend,” Lewis says. “But maybe I wrote it for myself now.”

By the end of my time at Lewis’ house, the sun has set and we’re sitting in near total darkness, save for the neon pink glow of one of her many landlines. “You have to make a choice to be happy, or try to be,” Lewis insists. “Sometimes that involves moving away from people that you love, or that hurt you, or that are toxic. You have to find your bliss in life, right?”

I almost can’t believe that the same woman who provided me with my personal millennial-burnout anthems is asking me about unfettered joy—the artist who wrote the lyrics “I do this thing where I think I’m real sick, but I won’t go to the doctor to find out about it” and “I’m a modern girl but I fold in half so easily when I put myself in the picture of success” and “It must be nice to finish when you’re dead.” But I nod; it’s true.

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rusticrevivals · 7 years ago

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Regular Readers may remember the story of the “Lucy” of Lucy’s Gulch, the admirable mid-wife who climbed a mountain path straight up into New Denmark every time a woman needed help with her birthing time. Nonetheless, as explained previously, Lucy was considered the ‘2nd wife’ of her sister’s husband. Each of the two sisters had their own house within 20 ft of each other, and the husband/brother-in-law travelled back and forth between the two, having had children by both women. Pictures and story here:

https://bluebellmountainblog.wordpress.com/2016/03/26/fact-or-folk-lore-lucys-gulch

I got that out in the first paragraph, right away, because I don’t want anyone thinking I am now being ‘kept’ by my own sister’s husband. Boyd did, however, invite me to tea in some of the many ‘shacks’ he’s built himself out of reclaimed materials, and as he is as adamantly eco-friendly as we are trying to be here (though Newfoundland is MUCH more ahead of the game in the recycling/reusing/ and making less of a carbon footprint than New Brunswick!) I thought it important to feature Boyd and his work/thoughts/ideas in this particular posting.

Mom/Joy and I spent the last week in St. John’s, Newfoundland. For those of you not familiar with our Maritime provinces, my sister has lived out there ‘on the Rock’, for about 25 years, while Richard’s BROTHER and mother live three hours away in Saint John (no ‘s’ on the end is the only difference when pronouncing). They’ve been there for about 20 years, and are one of the reasons we moved to THIS province. We went to St. John’s for a superlative concert put on by the Atlantic Boychoir, in which my nephew sings, and they were joined by the Grammy-and-Emmy-award-winning King’s Singers, from Cambridge, England. On top of which my eleven-year-old nephew Sydney also played a ‘cello solo during this concert in the 2500-capacity, 160-year-old cathedral. So it was well worth burning up the air-miles and two days of travel time (even though they are so close geographically, it takes LONGER to get there from here, than from Toronto!) to hear the boy bring the house down at the end of his astonishingly professional with his choir.

This entire blog, however, is primarily supposed to be about trying to live self-sufficiently off the land, and about other rural goings-on in a community still clinging to the traditions of old. So I’m not about to expound further upon the particular virtues of that most-amazing event, but will simply get on with how I ‘shacked up with my brother-in-law’.

First of all, my brother-in-law Harold Boyd, is not what you’d expect from an accountant of many years, nor a staunch supporter of environmental issues. He IS possibly, what some might expect of a native Newfoundlander, with the exception that he and my sister were the first to own an electric car (Toyota Prius) on the island. Here he is about to drive it silently into the night:

Boyd has previously been mentioned in this blog when he and Richard spent some time this summer here at Blue Belldon, fending off bees as they moved the compost containers closer to the garden. Having a family farm on the other side of the island (8 hours drive) but being happily ensconced in suburbanville in St. John’s has not deterred dear brother-in-law from setting up his back-yard like a scene from BBC’s The Good Life (also previously mentioned – and worth watching for anyone dreaming of that ‘off-the-grid’ life, but having no land to speak of:

First of all, Boyd and Jennifer have taken down the stereotypical suburban fencing that one finds surrounding most homes in ‘The Burbs’, and encourage all the neighbourhood children and pets to make a walking path, much like one would find in England and Europe. Behind their house is a ‘green space’, which then leads to various community buildings (school, hall, churches, etc). Boyd is adamant that Sydney walk to school most days even through deep snow, and tries by example to instigate others to do the same, thus taking a little journey through their farm-like back-yard and into the green space, which certainly cuts off at least 10 minutes of what it would be to walk via the roadways, not to mention opening up an entire ‘nature walk’ along the way.

For Boyd feeds the birds:

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Above, Boyd putting out two different suet blocks in his yard, one being ‘high energy’ to attract the bigger birds. He climbs a ladder to put one of these up, to detract cats (esp. his own) from climbing. And here he is filling all his bird-feeders with seed – he even puts perches out for the little beasts – ‘so they can queue up and wait their turn’!

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Boyd has built all the sheds, greenhouses, and raised gardens thus far in their yard, and has plans to continue expanding the garden portion (as well as tending garden in the summer months out on the ‘west coast’ of the island near Cartyville, where his mother still resides).

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Above, Boyd even has a burn pile, like we do here on the farm, although admittedly he can’t burn in the city limits. See also, the fence he’s removed so that the green space behind it is open to everyone from the front.

Next, we go into Boyd’s favourite ‘shack’. This is his self-made observatory (for the birds as well as the nature-enjoying neighbours). Of course, ALL Boyd’s shacks are made from recycled/reclaimed materials. The windows that make up most of this one were partly garnered from being found at the end of someone’s drive, and partly by patio doors for which his brother no longer had a use:

In this ‘observatory’, Boyd can enjoy the peace of his own mini-farm, watch the birds he is feeding and enjoy a cup of tea with the Kelly Kettle my sister bought for him, which he’s set up on an unused stainless steel garbage can. It doesn’t heat the room, but it DOES keep one busy and warms the hands whilst doing so. And of course, Boyd does have plans for a larger stove in this shack’s future.

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Boyd also enjoyed putting out these large “Christmas lights” so that he could stand in the house and enjoy looking at them all season, knowing they are being run by the solar panel he has on top of his sheds. (When solar panels are no longer quite so expensive, he and Jennifer hope to run their Prius completely from the sun’s rays – we should ALL be looking to doing this, and thus neither electric vehicles NOR solar panels should be so ridiculously inflated in price… but don’t get me started on that right now!)

Boyd then pulls out his ‘survival kit’ (a pouch of dryer lint, shredded paper and an assortment of wood bits for small kindling). He also proudly shows me a Lee Valley Swedish Firesteel which is impervious to all weather conditions and offers long-lasting sparks to start any fire:

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So, after crumpling in the bits of paper and lint into the bottom of the Kelly Kettle, and after having moved the ‘stovepipe’, he fills the kettle with water (which surrounds the inner heating section) and then keeps feeding the stove constantly, now with twigs from his burn pile in the back corner, a heap of which he is letting dry in a corner of the shed.

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And after only about 7 minutes – voila! He pours us each a cup of lovely hot tea!

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Next, we wait to see what neighbourhood children and wildlife will begin to discover the joys of Boyd’s Ebullient Acres. To help the process along a little, Boyd pulls out his bird-caller:

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and we are ready with a full chart of Maritime birds posted on the shack’s wall.

It’s not very moments before one tree is full of juncos and a large flicker is tapping away at the suet block:

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Without the snow on the roof, Boyd even can enjoy looking out through the ceiling, as he’s added a long window above for bird or moon/star-gazing:

Although he didn’t set it up this winter, Boyd has experimented with hydroponic growing systems, which Richard hopes to do soon as well (right now we just have some lettuce growing in earth in the seed tables in the basement – set up for this was detailed here: https://bluebellmountainblog.wordpress.com/2017/03/21/blue-belldon-basement-grow-op/ and had the 2nd-largest reading of any of my blog postings, so there must be an interest for inside growing techniques during long winter months!)

For more on Boyd’s type of hydroponics using PVC, see this:

https://ca.video.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=A0LEVrg4CmpajOYA1swXFwx.?p=hydroponics+with+pvc&fr=yhs-iba-1&fr2=piv-web&hspart=iba&hsimp=yhs-1&type=mchm_6047_CHW_CA#id=3&vid=5e2a6d8bf41fafd6b1722e877280d031&action=view

Boyd has this sitting in his shed, so it made me curious to investigate more:

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While I enjoyed watching the birds with Boyd, using camera, binoculars and my distance specs, my vision was frequently impaired by the Coke-bottle eyeglasses my nephew caused me to wear several times – once when we were playing ‘spy’ and deciphering codes, and another time when I threatened to dress up as crazy “Eco-Aunt” and go to his aikido classes if he didn’t behave. Eco-Aunt doesn’t waste water on hair-washing or bathing, applies makeup only using natural products, and wears only natural hair ornaments (feathers and wooden clothespins, etc). Once he saw me like this, Sydney decided to behave extraordinarily well, but I am thinking of offering Eco-Aunt as a main character to all marches for environmental issues. What do you think – is she memorable?

Shacking Up with Brother-in-Law Regular Readers may remember the story of the "Lucy" of Lucy's Gulch, the admirable mid-wife who climbed a mountain path straight up into New Denmark every time a woman needed help with her birthing time.

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