#i knew i was gonna get the turbo one i fuckin KNEW IT

[irresponsibility101]

wii music and i coulda been named turbo?!?

and i'll even make a special category for you and it's called

✨gremlin✨

-terrible child (affectionate) where do you get everything from and also who raised you

- i'd like to bake cookies with you but i have a feeling you'd eat all the batter :/

- literally the sweetest <333

i mean. yeah.

and also i get everything from my singular braincell which is dedicated completely to margaret beaufort (my beloved) and cursed history facts and both my parents are like actual normal people i just got 700% of the batshit genes

and i’ll have you know that i do not eat all the batter. i eat 25% instead.

also awwwwww <333

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

what about some kup x springer? that old geezer needs to be plowed hard and good!! :3c

Ayyye I got you king, you fuckin' got it.

Kup has been around the block. He's seen monsters big and small, been in the coldest climates and under the most scaliding suns. But not ONCE has he seen such bullshit. He was in charge of making sure the new wrecker wannabes did their daily trainings, and of course, once mech had to ruin it for the rest of them.

And that mech was Springer. Kup had to head out to check on something (on request of Ultra Magnus), and instead of doing rounds, he caught his team looking at dirty magazines. Now don't get Kup wrong, he knew what was on a young mechs processor, and it was plenty healthy. When they were on their own time.

"But when it's distracting the rest of the team, that's when it is a problem. This is what you save for the barracks, kid."

Someone had snitched, revealing that they belonged to Springer. The hot shot triple changer who was easy on the optics, hard on the processor. It was why he was in his office, uninterested as Kup scolded him. Springer shrugged.

"What? You were gone, we were bored. And these are new! It's just mechs having fun."

"Training first, playtime later."

"Wow, prude much?"

"I don't give a scrap if you all have an orgy back there, I really don't. I need you-"

Springer threw his hands up, as if in disbelief.

"As if you give us enough time to HAVE an orgy back there. I think you're just so bitter that YOU don't get laid, you're spikeblocking the rest of us!"

Kup had to take a second to absorb all this bullshit. He pulled a cygar from his desk, lit it, then took a long inhale. There was no common sense in this kid, no reasoning with him. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke fill the immediate area.

"Alright. Alright. You wanna play this game, do ya kid? We'll play that game. You get to be transferred to Ultra Magnus-"

"His unit SUCKS! Kup come on, you're blowing this out of proportion!"

Kup scoffed. He knew kid was gonna play hard ball. He picked up the magazine, using it to lightly smack Springer on his forehead.

"Alright. Then ya aft gonna face some punishment."

He made him get up, and handed him the magazine in question. Springer looked confused as Kup laid his body on the desk.

"What...am I supposed to do?"

"Manual labor. And you are NOT gonna stop until I say so."

Springer had more questions, obviously, until Kup spread his legs, and popped open his valve panel. Kup thought this was a bad idea, as it might ruin his reputation, but when he felt Springer ran his hand up his back, Kup knew he'd definitely have worst ideas.

"I knew you were in need of a spike, but damn going so far as to take advantage of a lil' recruit? For shame, sir."

Kup felt him lean over and place that magazine in front of them, showing a rather lewd imagine of a fem, huge chasis, playing with her valve folds. Right, bisexual. More chances for this young mech to act like a turbo fox in heat. With his hands free, he held onto Kup's hips, grinding his panel against his aft. Kup laid there, letting him get a good feel for his frame, while he took another inhale of his cygar.

"Because I leave this kinda punishment for morons like you. Trust me, it's not easy as-"

He was silenced when he felt that spike rub against him. Springer was stupid, sure, but he was right about one thing; Kup REALLY needed a nice spike. And from the size that he felt pressed against him, he was about to get just that.

"Sir, with all due respect, shut up."

Maybe it was because Kup had been looking through the magazines earlier. Maybe it was because he was excited by the idea of a young, fit stud fucking him. Either way, his valve was wet enough for Springer to push himself in effortlessly. Springer seemed to like the somewhat tight fit, given the chuckle that escaped his throat. Springer moved himself back and forth, not to be nice, but because he wanted to get a nice feel for his new valve.

"Good fit, eh?"

Springer leaned over Kup, swiping the cygar from his lips, smirking as he held it in his teeth.

"Not bad, definitely not bad. Gonna feel better once I get you whimpering though, old man."

Springer leaned himself back up, slowly pushing himself back and forth, as if the motion was foreign to him. Just when Kup was about to complain, Springer finally picked things up a bit, grabbing his hips firmly to push and pull Kup onto his spike. Kup groaned in relief. This was more fucking like it.

"Was starting to think you were scared of hurtin' me there, kid."

"Pfft. Hurting YOU? You're like an old bridge. You can take a lot more pressure."

Kup was about to bark at him for calling him old, when he slammed himself fully inside, making Kup stiffen on the spot. Springer laughed, removing the cygar from his mouth in order to blow smoke in Kup's direction. Kup turned to look at that stupid, smug smile of his. Kid was so cocksure, it was precious.

"That right? Well, go ahead, see how much pressure I CAN take."

"As you command, sir."

He gave him a mock salute, and after putting the smoke back into his teeth, he dug his servos into his hips again, and started to move, properly. As in, he started to plow right into his valve, metal clanking against metal, fluids cascading from their legs and onto the floor. Kup was loving it, reaching one hand down to rub at his little node. Oh it had been ages since he had a young, strong stud to fuck his valve.

"Don't hear ya talkin' slag back there, kid."

What he WAS hearing was Springer panting behind him, exhaling smoke as if he were a freight train. Poor guy wasn't used to handling having a seasoned pussy to pound, and he was making it pretty fucking obvious.

"S-shut up. Primus shut up."

"Aw, am I too much for ya to handle? You like fragging this 'old bridge'? You wanna overload in me? Well,"

He stood up, pressing his back to the other's chest, and stole his cygar from his mouth.

"You overload, right inside of me."

Then he pressed his lips against his. Kup bought good smokes, but something about the way they came from a young mechs lips- made them taste even better. Springer grabbed onto Kup's massive thighs, and overloaded. Kup let himself be filled with overload, before he pushed Springer's lips away, even being sweet enough to wipe the drool free from his lip. Springer chuckled, patting his thighs.

"Slag old man...you ain't have bad. This was fun."

"Was? Kid, you're kiddin'. We're just starting."

Kup reached behind him, grabbed Springer's legs, and pulled. It sent Springer to the floor, right on his back. Then Kup helped himself to round two, sitting down right on that spike, and starting to bounce on him. Springer was writhing on the floor, trying to grab anything in hopes to have something to grip on.

"FUCK OLD MAN!-"

Springer wasn't handling his spike being abused like this. And primus was it cute. Kup groaned loudly in content, and a puff of smoke somehow only made it better. He didn't even bother looking behind him. Not yet.

"Aw, what's wrong? Thought I was just an old mech who needed some spike? Thought YOU were the young mech to give it to me, eh?"

"Y-you're going f-fast-"

Oh Springer's hips kept bucking against him, more out of reflex than his actual want for more stimulation. Was it a bit much for the mech? Sure, but Kup didn't care. Not when it felt SO good in his soaked, soiled valve.

"That's it. Twitch in me. Gimme another load, same you'd do for your little magazine gal."

Springer finally acted like a proper solider, and obeyed. His hips bucked up, and he overloaded yet again. Kup swore his optics rolled to the back of his head as he finally got his own overload. Oh his valve ached. And he wanted more. He spun around on his spike, hand pressed on Springer's hot chest. Poor Springer.

Drooling, steaming, absolutely soaked in condensation. His optics looked hazy, his mouth agape as he panted.

"S-shit Kup. I'm...I can't do anymore. Primus say we're done. Please."

"Not a chance. This is your punishment kid. You ain't leavin' till you've learned your lesson. And you know me,"

He pulled himself off his spike, only to SLAM himself back down, making Springer toss his helm back as he cried out. Kup tried not to chuckle, but he just couldn’t help himself.

"I'm a through teacher~"

[m1xedju1ce]

Turbo's "speech"

You all. Every one of you. My legion, my friends, my tribe. I see you. I know your names and I know your heart. I know who puts in an honest day’s work. And I know who slacks the system. You know it, too. You know who you are. I SEE YOU. And it’s to you, I say, I’m lowkey-not-lowkey ballistic. You trust me to give you everything, yeah. food, shelter, warmth, weapons, leadership, safety. Even a beer every now and then. And in return you know what I ask? It’s pretty fuckin simple. I ask you don’t murder-kill me. That’s how this shit is supposed to work. Fair exchange, right? I mean, after everything I’ve built here? Look around you. This is our school. Our public school. And public school takes in anybody. I take in anybody. There’s always a seat for you on my bleachers. Doesn’t matter your former tribe. Doesn’t matter who you used to be. You’re safe here. I’m the eye in the Hurricane Nuclear Fallout. I’m the SPF 120 protecting you from the heat-blast sun. and once it sets, I’m the only warm blanket you got on these bitter-ass nights. I give you all this, and I ask the simplest thing in return. Loyalty. Loyalty and trust. Loyalty and trust and like an inch of respect maybe. But mostly loyalty. And would it seriously hurt you to pick up trash every once in a while. This place is a mess. And it’s starting to smell like foot cheese. Again: I SEE YOU. A quarterback can’t make epic plays without knowing where every single lineman and running back and receiver is. Same here, with you.

My job is impossible without lieutenant and soldier and kitchen scut right down on the line is doing their fucking job. Vibe me? Am I getting through? Well guess what? Y’all betrayed me. Why? I didn’t build all this so you fucks could just take it from me. No way. You don’t own this. The second you think you do is the second you make it toxic. I’m reminded of the immortal words of that guy who said whoha in “Any Given Sunday,” “I don’t know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives all comes down to today. Either we heal as a team or we are going to crumble. Inch by inch. Play by play. Till we’re finished. We are in hell right now, gentlemen, believe me and we can stay here and get the shit kicked out of us or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hell. One inch, at a time. Now I can’t do it for you. I’m too old. I look around and see all these young faces and think, I mean, I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make. I uh… I pissed away all my money believe it or not. I chased off anyone who has ever loved me. And lately, I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror. You know when you get old in life things get taken from you. That’s, that’s part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is football. Because in either game, life or football the margin for error is so small. I mean one half step too late or too early you don’t quite make it. The half second too slow or too fast and you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in every break of the game, every minute, every second.

On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us, to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our fingernails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that’s going to make the difference between WINNING and LOSING. Between LIVING and DYING. I’ll tell you this in any fight it is the guy who is willing to die who is going to win that inch. And I know if I am going to have any life anymore it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch because that is what LIVING is. The six inches in front of your face. Now I can’t make you do it. You gotta look at the guy next to you. Look into his eyes. Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you. You are going to see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team because he knows when it comes down to it, you are gonna do the same thing for him. That’s a team, gentlemen and either we heal now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That’s football guys. That’s all it is. Now, whattaya gonna do?” yeah. That’s right. I memorized the whole speech. Took me a whole year. but, I did it. I also memorized the speeches from “Hoosiers” and “Remember the Titans” and “Rocky IV” and “Cool Runnings” and “The Mighty Ducks” and “She’s The Man” and “High School Musical” and “Friday Night Lights,” both the movie and the television series. So I know about inspiration. I’ll tell you a story. It’s something I didn’t understand at first but now I’m coming around to it. It’s a story my dad told me. There was this guy who used to make vases. I don’t know what they call that? A vaser? Maybe? No. that’s wrong. A sculptor. I guess that could be right. A potter? Maybe a potter? I wonder if that’s why the kid is named Harry Potter? Because he made magic. Like made it. What was I saying? Potter? The vase! Right.

These vases were beautiful things. And check this out… the guy would wrap an entire vase in horsehair – then put it in his kiln. The horsehair would burn off and leave these black, charred scars. But to get the horsehair, the guy would have to pluck it straight from a stallion’s tail. How baller is that? Every time he did, that stallion would buck. The vase-maker, vaser, potter – he was pretty good at dodging the kick, ‘cause he  knew it was coming. But more than once, that horse would get him. Knocking him in the face and shoulder. Nasty shit. He still had rolling shards of broken bone you could feel, where the horse shattered his clavicle. But Christ in a halo, it was worth the pain. Those vases,  man. I know you think I’m a dumb jock, but I can appreciate a thing like that. well, I look at you all, and I think that’s what I have here. You’re the bucking horse. I’m the sculptor. And the beautiful vase is all this, Glendale High. Look what we have. but, you fuckers broke the vase. And I’m not sure we can ever glue this thing back together. But I’m gonna try. I’m really gonna fucking try.

[make-it-mavis]

fun idea that i’d like to draw in theory but probably won’t because i know me

my original turbo in 2013 owned an electric guitar but only pretended he knew how to play it. i cut that out of the new narrative because like...... why would a racing game come equipped with a guitar, right? i mean, he could have acquired one from elsewhere like mavis did with her acoustic, but i was like, y’know what, as much as i love the idea, i already made him hotter than he oughtta be, giving him a cool guitar would be pushing it LOL

but thanks to a certain hacking handyman friend (you know who you are) i recently found out that the turbo-time theme song (one of them) is basically just 80′s metal. a fact that brings me more joy than i can accurately portray. thank you for validating my portrayal of the boy in a very real way.

BUT in that lies my fun idea. since the theme song is metal, that means metal’s in the code of turbo’s game in one way or another, right? if that’s the case, what if he had a natural inclination for it that he wasn’t even aware of?

i’d already decided a while ago that mavis attempts to teach him to play acoustic with little success, but likes watching him try anyways. mostly to be a dick about it, which only motivates turbo even further, to really stick it to her for laughing at him. but he just can’t get it right. he understands the instructions, but the instrument itself doesn’t agree with him. he can’t get it to sound the way it’s supposed to. often leading to him claiming its broken. a weak claim, given that mavis plays it as easy as speaking.

she likes to gloat about it to piss him off, saying stuff like “don’t feel bad, i was a master at this only five months after touching a guitar for the first time. not everyone’s that gifted”

then one day a game with lots of instruments is plugged in, yknow, something like guitar hero but...... 80s. and they go scope it out. turbo does the major eyes emoji at an electric guitar and starts fiddling with it, and mav’s like “ohhh yes yes yes i gotta see this shit its gonna be hilarious,” but then he just       plays a short riff perfectly

they’re equally confused. mav’s like ok this must be a sort of auto-playing thing and takes it, but when she tries to play, it sounds like complete garbage because electric is quite different from acoustic. she just looks at him like “no fucking way” and he takes it back like “YES fucking way you smug little asshole,” cranks the volume to 11, and just    

fuckin shreds

til mav’s just flattened to the floor, smoking and sizzling like a cartoon character after an explosion

IT AIN’T FUCKIN FAIR HOW CAN HE DO THAT IN LIKE 5 SECONDS IT TOOK HER 5 MONTHS ITS SOME BULLSHIT TRICK HE MADE UP TO SAVE HIS EGO AND APPEAR MORE ATTRACTIVE

but give it time and they’re jamming together and it’s all good

so maybe i’ll give him a guitar again. maybe. lol

[fishmalazahn]

Four Word Prompt

“Don’t be an ass.” As requested a long time ago by @lajulie24

Obviously this is part of a larger fic that I’m playing around with.

Coruscant Gothic

Leia Organa walked across the sky bridge from her office in the Alderaanian Embassy to her apartment, the same apartment she’d lived in years before when she was a too young Senator and rebel spy. As she walked she searched for some sort of green space, some patch of non-urbanized life, but found nothing, just building after building after building. Rows of speeders buzzing around the sky bridge and overcrowding everywhere. She didn't want to be here, she hated it here and she knew Han did too. They’d been here for almost a year rebuilding the government after the fall of the last Death Star and she’d had her fill. She counted as she walked, how many years was it? How many years of her life had she lived, only for the rebellion, the Alliance, and now the New Republic? She had sat across from Han at dinner the night before picking at her food ready to tell Han to pack up the Falcon and take her away from this place, but she couldn't find the words.

You seem unhappy, he'd said to her, is it me? Is it us? She’s smiled at him and shook her head. Han was the last thing she was tired of, but she’d spent most of the night sitting up in bed contemplating her options, trying to figure out what she was going to tell Mon Mothma. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t do this anymore—this she was sure of. What she wasn’t so sure of was how to leave, what to say. She sighed waiting for the turbo-lift to take her up to her apartment, she hoped Han was already there, she hoped that he was waiting for her, that he knew what she needed, that she needed him to tell her it was alright to walk away. If anyone could think up an exit strategy it was Han. She rode the empty turbo-lift up to their spartan apartment, both of them refusing the offer of a fancy expansive apartment like Mon Mothma had, to stay in Leia’s old three-room-and-an-ensuite-fresher quarters that was still rather empty even with all of their possessions moved in.

She didn’t want to live here anymore under the close watch of the High Command, the new brass of the New Republic. She was tired of knowing that she and Han could be sharing a moment in and empty turbo-lift and the doors could open to General Dodonna or Mon Mothma. That the media followed them everywhere, asking when they were planning to marry or if she worried about Han’s past. And poor Han, he was trying so hard for her. But he was so, so bored. He’d refused to go off planet so many times that High Command was ready to pull his commission and he was ready to let them. He’d argued with Carlist that Leia needed him to be there for her, especially once the tribunals began. He’d find a civilian job or he’d keep house until the tribunals were over, but she needed to know that if she needed him, he’d be right there.

She felt that odd humming deep within her body again, if they stayed the media would be all over it. Especially since they weren’t married and had no plans to marry anytime soon. She’d have to tell him soon and if they stayed she’d have to tell High Command. Telling Han would be easy, she could already see his eyes light up and the corners of his mouth curl, he’d be wonderful and she knew it. It might even ease some of the past he still mourned for ten years later, but High Command would be livid, their last chance alliance building bargaining chip ruined. And when they found out that it was on purpose, they would be livid, The simple truth that Leia had decided not to renew her five year shot that she and Han had decided that they had lived for everyone else long enough.

She palmed the door controls and let herself in, Han was tinkering with some piece of equipment, bored out of his mind here, he’d taken to modifying everything he could get his hands on. ‘No, natural materials? No, forests, no wood?’ He’d complained when they’d landed. ‘Before I was a smuggler I was a carpenter, I built things, but there ain’t nothin’ here to build with.’ He’d lamented. ‘Hell am I gonna do with myself now?’ She’d smiled at him and pulled him to her by his belt. ‘I can think of one or two things you can do.’ He’d smiled and kissed her. ‘Sides that Lei, when you’re busy.’ She shrugged. She didn’t know, and she’d had second thoughts about even being there the moment they’d touched down, but Han, Han was good at keeping his frustration at a minimum, he was good at being supportive of her.

Han looked up from his tinkering and smiled at her.

“I’m going to take a bath.” She announced unpinning her hair as she walked in.

“Hey.” He grabbed her wrist as she passed. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I just don’t know anymore.”

“Wanna talk?”

She shook her head. “Han, I just want to take a nice, hot bath.”

“Fair.” He got up.

Leia ran her fingers through her long curtain of dark hair, she was tired of wearing it up all of the time, tired of having headaches and a sore neck from the weight of it. Han walked in from the ‘fresher drying his hands on a soft towel, the manufactured scent of jasmine following him into their sleeping quarters. She lifted her hair away from her back and let him unzip the intricate court gown she was wearing. She’d taken to wearing them again, and had found that she hated them after spending so many years in basic fatigues and spacer clothes.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and tilted her chin down to rest against her chest as Han pressed his thumbs against her neck, just below the base of her skull.

“Good?”

“Uh huh.”

“Head hurt again?”

“Yeah.”

“All this fuckin’ hair.”

“I know.” She sighed standing there in her basics letting him rub her shoulders and her neck, her heavy court gown pooled at her feet and her hair draped over one shoulder.

He slipped an arm around her and pulled her to him. “Love you.” He kissed her neck.

She smiled. “Love you.”

He kissed her shoulder. “M’worried about you Lei.”

“I’m alright Han.”

He sighed taking in the scent of her skin. “You’ve been so quiet lately. Been spending a lot of time in your own head.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

He nodded. “M’here you know?”

She turned in his arms and slipped her arms around his neck her fingers tangling in his hair. “I know Han, and that means so much. I know High Command isn’t happy with you for refusing missions, but I need you here.”

“Lei.” Han spoke quietly leaning against the door frame watching her soak in the hot water.

“Hmm?” She raised an eyebrow but kept her eyes closed.

“Let’s go, let’s just pack up and go.”

“Go where?”

“Gotta house on Corellia.”

“Coronet City? No way.”

“No, no out in the hardwoods.”

“Okay.” She spoke, her eyes still closed. “Talk me into it.”

Han sat down on the sani. “Are you patronizing me?”

“No, I’m serious. I’m ready to go.”

He smiled and crouched down next to her leaning on the bathing tub. “The hardwood region is well away from Coronet City. I grew up in that Imperial shit hole, I wouldn’t live there. My house is on the other side of the planet, in a resort area. It’s nice and quiet, out in the woods, next to a stream.” He spoke gesturing with his hands as if he were creating a holo-projection in the space between them. “It’s probably a lot more primitive than you’re used to.”

“It sounds perfect.”

He looked at her.

“Why’d you build it?”

He sighed. “You know I was married before.”

She nodded. “And you never talk about her and I never ask.”

He nodded. “It was our house.”

“And you’re sure you want to go back there?”

He nodded. “Lei, she was killed almost ten years ago. I think I’ve dealt with it.”

Leia nodded, she’d stopped apologizing for the acts of past rebel extremists long ago and Han appreciated it. “Alright hotshot, let’s pack up and go.”

“So, when do we leave?”

“As soon as we’re packed.” She looked him in the eye.

He nodded. “It’s a resort town so it’s got a really nice town square and good medcenter. It’s a beautiful old town, I think you’ll really like it. Kinda reminded me of those resorts up in the mountains on Alderaan.”

She nodded.

“What are you going to tell Mon Mothma?”

She shrugged.

“If it were me, I’d tell her to fuck off.”

“Han, don’t be an ass, she’s been good to us.”

“I know she has, but if she fights you on this...”

“I’m still going.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just hate it here it’s so dismal and loud.”

“We’ve been here a year, you still can’t sleep can you?”

She sighed. “I’m fine until someone gets too close in a speeder.”

[splitshortsyeah]

Blu 'Her Favorite Colo(u)r'

-Matt Duelka

Nobody gets to where you need to go without someone there to show you the way. Anyone who tells you otherwise, well, fuck ‘em.

I had a dude, a guy, a mentor if you will, that saw some potential – as small as it may have been – and decided I was worth the trouble. I mean, I wasn’t. BUT NEVERTHELESS, HE PERSISTED.

It’s 2007 and I’m prepping for a radio show during my junior year of college – a classic rap song, some indie dude I came across that might be good, yeah that’s the stuff. I’m pretty oblivious to what’s trending and any artists that have gained traction amongst the internet’s graces – but I like what I know and that’s what I’m gonna play.

“You gotta play this tonight”

*Throws CD at me*

That’s the dude. Anything he said I took as gold, so I scratched a few songs I thought were slappers (they definitely weren’t) and scribbled the ‘Promo Only’ CD into my 2am to 4am set.

“Listen to it first. It’s all fire. This kid is gonna be a game changer.”

I got some time. So I loaded that disc into the 1997 boombox in the corner and began an impromptu lesson on rap.

“Bllllluuuuuuuuuu-uuuu-uuuuuuuuu”

Tuggle was my guy -- DJ Tuggle. First time I met him was when I went to go see about becoming a radio DJ. He said “I just did an interview with Method Man. Fuckin’ A, man.” A few weeks later I was sitting in the staff room, meeting all of the radio DJs. I told them my favorite rap album was Atmosphere’s ‘God Loves Ugly’. As stupid as that was, I think I earned some points for not just going with ‘Illmatic’ or ‘Ready to Die’. Many years and rap debates later I asked Tuggle to DJ my wedding. He asked “You sure?”. No one could have made that night better than he did.

“This kid is from LA. Could be the best rapper ever some day.” Maybe he didn’t say that. But he wanted to. Tuggle knew his shit.

I’m sitting in the staff room listening to ‘Below the Heavens’ by the rapper Blu (produced by another southern LA guy named Exile). FLOORED. Literally, jaw to the filthy, dusty, hasn’t-been-mopped-in-years ground. It wasn’t a typical west coast jawn, though. Exile learned by listening to LA-based Madlib, and Detroit’s King of Beats J Dilla. Blu found Exile while collabing with Aloe Blacc (who was in a group with Exile called Emanon). Blu has said to be influenced incredibly by Common – trying to be a calm and composed -- yet compassionate rapper. Exile saw him perform and loved the style – the two meshed. ‘Below the Heavens’, now, is a way to know if someone knows their shit about rap music. It’s a classic, should be a globally acclaimed masterpiece, but only the folks who know what’s up know how good this album is. So now I’m a Blu STAN, stalking his updates for any bites on new music. Singles and collabs here and there (‘Johnson&Johnson’ – a joint album with Mainframe -- was a solid taste to hold me over) but I needed a bigger plate of Blu to keep satiated.

[Quick break of the 4th wall – I may be cheating because the mixtape I am about to talk about actually came out in 2009 on Blu’s Myspace, but then eventually became an album sometime between 2010 and 2011. I can’t recall, but I wanted to write about it, so here I am, and here we are].

As one does on the internet, one gets lost in the searches, and ‘next’ and ‘next’ and you’re on page 14 with 9 tabs open at 3:30am and you don’t know why you haven’t given it a rest. But that’s when you most likely will come across gold. I can’t recall exactly, but it’s 2009 and I’m probably 10 Busch Beers in and there’s a link on a blog with not much to it.

‘Download BluHerFavoriteColour.mp3’. Sure. Let’s see what the dude is up to. Maybe it’s a new single, maybe he’s on a new track with Exile. Worth checking out.

[Download. Open. Check length] 31mins long. Huh. No tracks, no explanation. Just a 31min track drop at 3am on a Friday. Welp. Here it goes.

[7 plays through on loop later0.

Yeah. I have no idea what this is, but please, give me more.

Blu released ‘Her Favorite Colour’ on his Myspace. Just randomly threw out it there and, artistically, it was one of the inspirational things I had listened, or absorbed, in quite a while. Since ‘Below the Heavens’ had come out, Blu seemed to be evolving. As I mentioned, ‘Below the Heavens’ was a classic. But it was a rapper and a producer doing a thing really, really f’n well. All of Blu’s stuff after that seemed to want more. I compare it to what Phonte (Little Brother, Foreign Exchange) said about a lot of fans complaining that Foreign Exchange’s albums that followed their first one (‘Connected’) weren’t in any way the same, even though ‘Connected’ was also a classic album. Phonte basically said ‘Connected’ was what it was but they could never just do a ‘Connected 2’. They had to move on because they succeeded in what they wanted to do -- but in order to progress as artists, they needed to evolve themselves into something different musically (their future albums’ sound, he has said, is more of why they formed Foreign Exchange in the first place – not just to be a rapper and a producer, but more than that). Blu wanted to do more and ‘Her Favorite Colour’ was his foray into that.

Blu seemed to take sounds and techniques of producers he worked with, but also what he did mostly was want to emphasize his childhood in his music – utilizing gospel-esque sounds and old jazz with a lo-fi mood. At this point, we all knew Blu could rap, so this tape seemed to be a test in the waters of ‘why not?’…what did he have to lose?’

The tape was birthed not just from his inspirations and childhood tunes, but also from a severed relationship which I could only assume, but definitely have no sources to confirm, was the relationship consistently mentioned in ‘Below the Heavens’. Sucks it didn’t work out, but glad something positive could come out of it.

[Billie Holiday “Am I Blue” Horn Solo] “I used to have…”

As is with some other mixtapes, I originally expected some interesting but already very produced beats (maybe renditions of other popular rap) with just Blu rapping over them. But the cover art (or better yet, Thumbnail art?) spoke to me a little different. It was telling me this was something more than a 50 Cent type deal. And from the gun this tape had my eyes open and ears peeled to the speakers. You think you get the jest of what artists are gonna do – or what they should do in order to showcase talent and get you to listen to their jams. Even though this tape isn’t monumental, and the production value isn’t top tier, it takes a lot to be SURPRISED these days, and this was something that even Left Field didn’t have on their radar.

I have to admit, it took me a few days of constant listening to even UNDERSTAND what the tape was. There were no tracks, I couldn’t tell if there were interludes or parts of songs. You couldn’t, and still can’t, pull a few minutes from that tape and try to sell it as a single, or “Hey give this a listen what do you think?” It’s 31mins or bust.

Sure, I’ve probably hyped this tape up to ‘Da Drought 3’ levels, so sue me. But it made an impact for numerous reasons. The first would be the simplicity of it all. Blu took old era jazz, and instead of turboing up a Thelonious Monk piano riff, he cut and lo-fi’d the hell out of it. But I was still sitting in the jazz club. And it was me and the 30 others who were rifling the internet for something different. I’ve got a cheap gin martini, cigarette smoke everywhere. That’s the vibe. Billie Holliday and Ella Fitzgerald HAUNTED this tape. Their voices eerily present – I can feel it in my bones. But it’s not sad. Like, I’m not in my feelings. There’s a definite broken heart involved, but nobody is crying.

“Goooood Moorrrrrning…”

Ella’s sample on “Morning” is most memorable for me. The voice is great, but it’s not 100% the main reason why the sample and track stand out. More so because of how the music and how Blu splices movie dialogue over it – they juxtapose each other so well. And the fact that there is nothing BUT movie dialogue – but we will get into this one a little deeper in a little bit.

My favorite sample – well co-favorite —is Astrud Gillberto’s “Corcovado”’s sample on “Silent”. It’s 35 seconds long, no rapping, but the IDEA of what this track could become is what makes it incredible. I can imagine a 4 and a half minute SLAPPER of a track and I git GIDDY. Nothing about the 35 seconds should scream at you, BANGER, but to me, it’s a lovely and jarring coupla cuts of Gillberto’s voice, the piano is perfect, but the MVP is what I believe to be in-between breaths that Blu spliced in, very specifically. It’s flawless.

PHEW.

The other sample that shares high honors for a COMPLETELY different reason is Radiohead’s “You and Whose Army” on “Untitled(Loveu)2”. It’s mainly because – WHY THE FUCK IS BLU FLIPPING, LITERALLY FLIPPING, A RADIOHEAD TRACK. The answer is, because he fucking can. The lyrics on this one are split into 2 entirely different thoughts yet sewn together quite nicely. At first he’s LITERALLY explaining why he’s making this tape, and what you should be expecting from him (in comparison to other rappers).

“I plotted, planned it for a year or so Hoping folks hear Below And see I'm not the same as Lil Wayne They say I bond with the spiritual But hollar if you hear me though”

He also jumps in on his breakup, which is the MAIN arching theme of this tape – giving him an outlet to get what needs to off his chest. This “track” is also located towards the end of the 31mins so it could be a wrap up of everything he’s been talking about and what he wants everyone to know moving forward.

You can listen to this 30, 40, 50 times (which I did for the first 3 days) and you can solely enjoy the smooth offerings of the musical interpretations that Blu is delivering without focusing on the other things. To be honest, this tape was one of the first recordings where I actively searched for the samples used because they were so blatant, but also so alluring. It’s become quite the pastime over the last 10 years, and I HIGHLY recommend playing this game with all of your friends. I also am able to SEE the samples in these, and imagine CREATING the finished product, and get so inspired by it. If I ever dove into music production, I’d have this tape as my blueprint for what I’d want to create. I’ve never been as jealous of a recording as I was this one. Nothing too fancy, but able to alter the sound just enough to create a new atmosphere around it.

At some point, though, you need to stop and focus on the other, maybe MORE, interesting aspect of this tape (MORE!?!?!). Blu not only samples some stellar jazz tunes, but he also splices in movie clips from some fairly middle of the pack independent flicks that just you make say “Of course he did.” There was no Scarface, no Godfather clips. Pitfork said it best in their review – “Blu seems like the kind of rapper who’s really proud of his DVD collection.” I’m talking Punch Drunk Love, The Life Aquatic, and the best one in there was from Closer (best maybe isn’t the BEST word for this…).

Oh man.

I teased it earlier, but needed to time to warm up into discussing this. If you’ve never seen the movie ‘Closer” I highly recommend you do it. But not because the movie is that good (I actually don’t remember how good it was. It was probably okay. I saw it in the theatres while in High School. Maybe I was in over my head), but because this would make a lot more sense. On the track “Morning”, right after Ella welcomes us, if you didn’t know the movie, you’re immediately hit with an incredibly vulgar-for-no-reason interlude that lasts way way too long. If you did know the movie, you immediately know you’re knee deep in a vital part of Clive Owen and Julia Roberts’ relationship issues (maybe similar to Blu’s? I hope not). I was floored that a young rapper from LA decided this, THIS was the clip needed for his tape.

If you didn’t want to be happy for 2 hours, I’m sure you can find time to watch the flick, but otherwise this part of the 31min tape does hit a big plot point – and is easily the most memorable “track” for no other reason than you have to cringe the entire few minutes (yes, this goes on for minutes) the two are jawin’ at each other. Just haymakers at each other right smack dab in the middle of the tape. If it’s your first listen, it’s hard to get through, but as soon as you get used to it, you start to get the popcorn ready and await a Ali/Forman-size rumble. But, make sure you’re by yourself, because if your wife or in-laws are around, you’ll definitely regret it.

“It tastes like you, but sweeter.”

“What in the HELL are you LISTENING to?!?”

The marriage of the samples from both the music and movies really opened my eyes to what is possible out there. I mean, Blu took this project on his own, without any funding or help from others, and just put it out there for everyone to see – “hey, I know I can rap, I know that shit was dope. But look at this. I can do it all.” I was a 22 year old when this first entered my life, and I was trying to figure out how I could bring unique, fun, and meaningful content into this world. This project was something I looked up to – even to this day – and I don’t mean “I’m gonna splice up some movie quotes and samples and send it out like he did.” More like, I can try something a little weird and a little unconventional with the talents I have and see if the world takes it.

And to anyone telling me none of this is revolutionary – I get it. The ground didn’t shake, and oceans didn’t part when this was dropped. But it hit me, it was like a whack on the funny bone and I’m sure it did the same to others too. But if someone wants to splice some movie clips on eerie jazz lady vocals and lo-fi that shit up – HIT ME WITH IT, I’M OPEN. I’LL EAT THAT UP ALL DAY.

It’s been 10 years, maybe 11. And I have to admit that I haven’t been able to push myself to doing that thing that this SHOULD have inspired me to do. I don’t know what my version of “Her Favorite Colour” is but I’m not afraid to keep looking. I cheated my way into writing about this for a reason. Accountability is key. I feel like Blu held himself accountable to become more than just that dude that rapped on ‘Below the Heavens’. I’m gonna be more than some dude who wrote this.