#it relies on “how many times can we say fuck in one conversation ”

[notallbloodmages]

*taps mic*

I don't like Henry Cavil as Geralt

*sits down in the dunk tank*

please don't me mean to me I'm keeping main tags out this is my blog I can be a hater if I want

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

How murderous is Karkat and Eridan?

Eridan: "killin is all i evver done practically the ocean wwas my killing cauldron"

Karkat: loves his friends so much that it hurts

They're both really blasé about killing things like imps or game enemies, and neither of them WANT to hurt their friends. Eridan's just more used to it because it was his whole job, and he's a lot better at fighting than Karkat is.

Vriska at one point says to John that her bodycount is probably "many thousands," so we can probably use that as a reference and assume Eridan's in that same bracket, because he and Vriska have a lot of parallels. In fact, I'd go so far as to call Vriska and Eridan a literary device called "parallel characters" - by listening to Vriska tell John about her feelings about her bodycount and of her place in society, we get to learn about how Eridan's feeling, too.

If we set the bar at 3000 (the low end of "many thousands") and Vriska and Eridan are both the equivalent of 13 years old, or a little less than 700 weeks, that meant he and Vriska were averaging out to multiple kills a week (and given they probably didn't start when they were newhatches and 3000 is a low estimate, like... it was probably an insane number like 5-7 kills/week). But never anyone they "cared about," in Vriska's words, until the Team Charge debacle, or Eridan went berserk on Feferi and Sollux (we should also keep in mind that Eridan outright says to Kanaya that he doesn't want to kill people he considers his friends).

But Eridan is significantly less emotionally intelligent than Vriska (a fucking feat), has less of a support system, and has a lot of Duty and Responsibility and Fate of the Species on his shoulders, so he copes a lot worse (again, a fucking feat). For Eridan, it's less about "being murderous," and more about "society demands that I be murderous" + "if I am not murderous, everybody dies" + "when I grow up, murder is my only viable career path".

He's ANXIOUS AS FUCK at his core. Via their parallel character status, we know from Vriska that they're both actually really nervous about growing up and taking their place in a society that demands bloodshed from them. When Eridan obsesses over genocide, it's a byproduct of Literally Being The Guy That Is Preventing Genocide (to the point of not really having other hobbies). We also know that he feels guilt towards his victims (or at least more than Feferi), which we know from Vriska is societally unacceptible. And if it's unacceptible for her to feel bad, then imagine how much less okay it is for the sea dweller.

So I wouldn't necessarily call Eridan murderous - like with most things regarding Eridan, it's more complicated than that - but I would call him "on a hair trigger", "conditioned to reach towards murder as an early solution," and "obsessively/anxiously trying to live up to how murderous society demands he be," all while not at all wanting to kill people he cares about. I think it's really important to note that, even though the higher the blood the more volatile the troll, and despite being unauspiced and unmoirailled, and without relying on sopor, Eridan did not start shooting to kill until Sollux and Feferi escalated the situation.

And before anyone mentions that Feferi's in the same boat, she spends practically the whole time with Sollux, who is foreshadowed to be her moirail.

Like, the tragedy of Eridan's character is that he's lonely and terrified, but does such a good job at putting up an obnoxious front that even a lot of the audience became convinced that he basically sucked and his problems didn't matter. His dumbass plan to go to Jack was a genuine attempt to save Feferi, the person he cared most about.

If you go back and look at that conversation, Eridan's casual casteist threats aren't genuine (see my pinned Eridan essay for details) - and SOLLUX is the one who says "I should have killed you when I had the chance". And Eridan DOESN'T KILL SOLLUX, because this whole time, Eridan has not wanted to kill his friends. It's not until Feferi - the person he cares most about, the one whom he concocted that suicidal mission in order to save - turns on him in agreement that Sollux should've killed him - that makes Eridan finally lose it.

Meanwhile, Karkat just loves his friends. He loves them so fucking much. I think this is pretty well-documented about him? He's got no qualms about murdering game constructs like imps and the black king, but he feels deeply fucking hurt and betrayed by Bec Noir since he bonded with Jack/Spades Slick. I don't think Karkat ever makes a genuine death threat against anybody but past!Eridan, but he and Eridan are heavily foreshadowed to be moirails, and that conversation has a hilarious bit in the middle where Karkat seemingly forgets that he's mad at the guy and just starts telling him he's a dumbass. Later on, he expresses missing his dead friends, including/especially the assholes, in the same segment as the meteor runs into dead Feferi and Eridan, so I think that that was more an angry outburst than a genuine desire to see Eridan dead.

In fact, even though he's basically shown nothing but scorn for Gamzee and Gamzee's religious beliefs and clown-ness, and even after Gamzee murders two people and seems to be trying to murder them all, Karkat can't bring himself to kill or even fight the guy, just shooshpap him down, later ranting that Gamzee was a lovable bullshit clown that he liked a lot, and (one of) his best friend(s).

So they're both in this boat of not wanting to kill their friends, but feeling societally pressured into grandstanding that they're TOTALLY murderous assholes just trust me - but Eridan was in a position where he was forced to do it at the detriment of any other hobbies, or else everybody died, and is also one of the best fighters on the team, if not THE best. Thus, the fact that it's a viable option is not only near the forefront of his mind at all times, but he has the skills to resort to it. I guess technically, that does make him more murderous, but it's also, like... any normal person in his situation would wind up the same way, honestly.

[hadesoftheladies]

too many people view (uncritically, esp when it comes to feminism) separatism as this isolating, individualistic thing where people who don't want to participate just pack their bags and move to a far off country. that isn't what it is at all.

separatism is about re-centering the individuals of a certain community so as to strengthen the community. so that a community focuses its energy and resources on itself rather than on outsiders. it is, quite literally, about building and expanding community. it's not merely about escaping men or banning men, it is about relying on women, building a community of women, centering women, making it so that women are not dependent on men because women got them. you see how that's qualitatively different right?

like it's not so much about cutting off your father or brothers, but about spending deliberately more time fortifying your relationships with other women in your life. whether helping them out financially, donating books, giving advice, buying their stuff, giving energy.

when it comes to revolution of any kind, they die quickly without a strong sense and presence of community.

one of the biggest wrenches patriarchy has thrown into women's liberation is poisoning female community. consciousness-raising is difficult because every new generation of women is cut off from the one preceding it. younger girls are taught to resent women and view women with suspicion. they are male-centric in that they believe males will protect, love, provide for and cherish them only to have a rude awakening sooner or later.

bridging that disconnect is going to take practicing varying degrees of separatism. for sharing of knowledge between women and girls is hampered by male presence. you've all seen this happen. when a man or boy enters the picture, conversation between women is crippled. we start censoring ourselves.

censorship is a huge issue feminists face at every turn, and it's worse because we experience this censorship not just via government or public forums where men are in charge, but in our interpersonal relationships. and not just in our interpersonal relationships, but by our own selves. only female community brings out the honesty in us and gives us the courage to speak out and think freely. we all know this.

separatism is not only imperative to women's health, it is imperative to consciousness raising. it's not about living in a male free utopia but about centering women in all things so that women's community is strengthened and prepared to take on their oppressors and patriarchal society (and so that it survives retaliations). girls don't need to be totally isolated from males. they need to have predominantly female (not feminine) influence in their lives. they need to be in a place where they do not depend on males or cater to them. they need to be female-centric. learning female-philosophy and perpetuating authentic female culture.

that's separatism.

and the good news is that feminists are not the first oppressed group to employ separatism. black liberation movements employ this as well and are strengthened when they do. it's how they won some of their most vicious battles. lgb communities also utilize(d) separatism and it strengthened their communities. they had to de-center the narratives of their oppressors and rely on each other instead of begging their oppressors for scraps. they won because they gave themselves to each other as a community.

separatism works. over and over again. liberation takes time, but it has always needed separatism.

i just keep thinking about how communities can disrupt and change society, y'know? like how even in the throes of capitalistic/imperialist/white supremacist greed, small communities find a way to take care of each other financially and physically. culture predates economy, even while economy can beget culture or poison it. i love how small communities can just say "fuck you" to the presiding ruler and create within themselves micro-economies to keep each other alive. economy is just, after all, a social agreement/condition.

women are the ones who will liberate women. keep investing in that and it'll pay off.

[kylo-wrecked]

Name: Ben.

Nickname(s): Occasionally, a friend, a foe, or a love interest will call him Benji or Benny. Obviously, all Bens are united in their hatred of this.

Relationship Status: Verse dependent. Modern!Ben's articulated the words 'I love you' to but one other.

Gender: Cis male.

Romantic Orientation: Exploring or unsure.

Preferred Pet Names: Music!Ben will call you 'baby' if he hates you.

Opinion on True Love: All Bens believe true love exists... but maybe not for hims.

Opinion on Love at First Sight: Music!Ben thinks he's fallen in love at first sight many, many times. Modern!Ben is somehow more suspicious. Ex!Con Ben has never looked another person in the eye (Jk, he's not a believer) and Smuggler!Ben...

How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: He's unpracticed, not unromantic.

Edited for E.: Music!Ben can charm the pants off anyone but I still don’t think that makes him a ‘romantic.’

Ideal Physical Traits: This one is tricky because mun struggles to understand what makes one physical trait more desirable than another :') but we shall try.

Based on copious evidence, mun believes Bens generally prefer longer hair for [women/femmes], short to medium curls for [men/mascs], notable thighs (strong, long, or thick), or other limbs and extremities (Smuggler!Ben). Striking eyes, chest hair for [men/mascs], a nice smile, a brazen or unique laugh (for Music!Ben especially, laughter is physical). Scars and other proof of life.

Because he's 6'4", he prefers his partners tall, but because he's 6'4", he invariably accepts smol.

Ideal Personality Traits: If he likes you, be yourself. All of yourself, preferably, because he's greedy.

All Bens find humility attractive in a person. Music!Ben covets meanness and whatever he interprets as power today. Let's not think about tomorrow.

Unattractive Physical Traits: We're struggling again, and that's okay.

Redubbing this part 'least desired observable characteristics.'

Shaved or bleached brows, dreads on heads where they don't belong, notable cosmetic alterations (Music!Ben specific), literal body language (Smuggler!Ben specific), worm physique (Smuggler!Ben specific), problem skin.

Unfortunately, Music!Ben can veer on fat-phobic (he's certainly weight-conscious himself) and Modern!Ben thinks women should shave their legs for him or something ridiculous like that. Not that he'd ever say it. (Dirty fingernails are fine by him, though. The more, the merrier.)

Unattractive Personality Traits: ☝️ Do not lie to him.

Ideal Date: bullets? Bullets.

Modern!Ben: movie/museum and dinner, in that order, because post-movie/museum-going conversations reveal much about a person.

Music!Ben: goes from 1 to 111. He's not dating you; he met you someplace awful and will never leave you alone again. Hint: He's never the dumper, always the dumped.

Ex-Con!Ben: Somewhere quiet, outdoors, away from the public eye. Said date must make it clear to Ben that he's on a date, or else he'll be utterly lost.

Smuggler!Ben: kidnapped Poe Dameron once—and it was awesome.

Do They Have a Type?: Bens are often attracted to sensitive, mysterious persons... or people who 'yell' at hims (Music!Ben, Smuggler!Ben).

Average Relationship Length: Six inches. One to two years.

Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: Smush-

Commitment Level: Fluctuates. Bens are serious about those they care for, but.

Ah, the various buts.

Opinion of Public Affection:

Modern!Ben: Outlook good/You may rely on it.

Music!Ben: Don't count on it/My sources say no.

Ex-Con!Ben: ???/Ask again later.

Smuggler!Ben: *loudly in the cantina* —we're NOT married?!

Past Relationships?:

Modern!Ben: Has entered two serious relationships. The first was young and short-lived. The second ended in California. She cheated on him, and he has never recovered.

Music!Ben: Sadly. And before then, a fling with Rey, which he fucked up beautifully. And before, after, and somewhere in between, a thing with Armitage (verse dependent). It wasn't a romance, but it was certainly something.

Ex-Con!Ben: Nope.

Smuggler!Ben: Verse dependent but primarily occupied with and committed to Not Dying Between Now and Centaxday.

tagged by:// @godresembled <3 thank you, fren, for the much-needed distraction during my moving frenzy.

tagging:// anymun who hasn't already done this meme and wants to share~

singling out, @valkxrie, @debelltio, @itmeanspeace, @themckaytriarchy, @ofthestcrs (muse of choice), @certifiably-i (muse of choice), @ifyoucatchacriminal (muse of choice). @etoilebleu (muse of choice eris).

[fqiryspit]

hii gorgeous, i hope your doing well! congratulations!! 💕 i love your work 🙌🏽 its my first time asking 🫶🏼 can i request angst 15 and 48?

ahhhhh thank you so much for requesting!! I really really love this one and I hope you do to!! <33 mwah! 💞

15 and 48 = “no, I won’t calm down.” "don't say that!" |fqiryspits 3k event|

abusive!eren x fem!reader

cw: ABUSE!!, emotional manipulation, hitting, scratching, jean is a saint, confusion and almost hallucinatory type things

as you slip into the closing door of your apartment and flick the yellow lights on, your raw ears flinch at the sound of keys slamming against the table

you knew he was mad. you should've just stayed by him all night.

I mean- that's what you usually do at these mediocre parties. bass in your throat while trying to find eren in the changing light to make sure he wouldn't end up in a room with another girl...again.

"you think you're fucking funny?" he mumbles, back still towards you as you come to from your thoughts

"eren. I'm sorry" you whisper, head hanging down as he turns to you, squishing your cheeks together and forcing them back up with him

"tell me, did you fuck him?"

"no!" you slur, mouth detained as you rely on your tongue. he isn't satisfied, with how his nails dig into your plump cheeks, you know he isn't getting over this with just questions.

it was late into the party, eren was slowly slipping from your grip, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.

"bored?" a voice punctured your ear-drum, yelling over the music.

you turn and saw jean, one of erens many friends as he sips on god knows what.

"I'm fine." you answer simply, eren always warned you about jean and his antics so you're custom to shutting down any conversation right at the start

"don't play that eren shit with me." you froze, what...does he mean? did eren tell him that he told you to stay away?

"I don't know what you're talking about" you almost whispered but he somehow caught it

"yes, you do." he turns to lean against the wall you're on to keep watch of eren while you stare at the floor

"okay...then what happened?" you blink, now finding yourself in erens arms. still standing in the kitchen as you subconsciously dig your nose into erens shirt a little more

"w-we went outside..."

"eren...what does he...do to you?" jean says simply, watching the pool as the water's movements reflect on his pale face

"what do you mean?" you feel your brows contort, he takes another sip of his drink before looking over at you

"does he hurt you?"

"fuck, why would he say that?" eren curses, brushing your hair softer as he shakes his head

"I would never- hurt you? why would he say that?" he almost babbles to himself, grabbing your cheeks again, gentler this time as he swipes over the fingernail marks

"I would never, ever hurt you, baby. it's just sometimes you get into trouble" his voice faded and features dimmed as you heard crickets and muffled screams and music, a blue light swirling on your face as you find yourself back to the pool, and jean awaiting your answer

you didn't even notice the tears in your eyes, tucking your bottom lip in as you try and compose yourself

"he would never wanna hurt me"

"but does he?" he says simply like this is a normal conversation, eyes boring into yours, not moving away for a second

"no. he doesn't"

"what did you say?" a soothing voice tosses you back, you look into his eyes as he is still cupping your face.

you haven't answered him yet.

"what did you say, baby?" he seems...almost...worried with your awaiting answer. he wouldn't be if he actually didn't hurt you...

"what?"

"he wouldn't be if he actually didn't hurt you" jean repeats, sipping on his drink as he sits back on the pool chair

"you're being manipulated and toyed with, y/n. erens is an ass and you need to get out"

get...out? why would I need to get out? I can leave him anytime, there's just no reason.

"there is a reason and you need to- get out" you cup your head, it aches, mostly with confusion, you're not sure what's happening and if you're saying all this out loud again

"fucking answer me!" he slams you into the door again, you cup your head to soften the blow and he stops

"I'm sorry I'm sorry are you okay?" he rushes to your aid, going to your head to check if it's alright

"you...hurt me" you whisper, erens...hurting you.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to!" he cries, hot tears running down his face as he sobs into your shoulder

"you hurt me eren"

"don't say that!" he wails out, you feel yourself backing away from him as you feel yourself about to burst with so much hate for the man in front of you

"baby? wha-what are you doing?" he calls out, eyes flashing to the doorknob as he reaches for it, making sure you won't leave him just yet

"you're horrible eren, jean is right- and- and, I need to get out-" you yell, eyes blurring with tears

"please baby- you- you need to calm down!" he sobs

"don't tell me to calm down" you whisper, feeling like an idiot for ignoring your friends and putting up with him for so long

"fuck you, eren" you turn, he reaches for you and you take the open door knob and run.

"I'm such an idiot..." you bury your head in your hands

"no, you've just been lied to over and over" jean pipes, as you stare into the swirling pool you make your way back to jean

"thank you"

an: happy birthday eren! hehe, I hope you liked this! I really like doing that style of back-and-forth but I hope it wasn't confusing lmao!! again, thank you so so much for requesting! mwah! 💞

[mixes-archive]

Can we get König with a loud assertive reader? They have a past in bullying, and as we know König was bullied heavily as a child. So kind of a yin and yang situation.

What if at base (y/n if only visiting, they don’t work there, they aren’t a soldier and have a normal job) and someone starts picking on König, y/n rounds the corner and punches the fully trained soldier to the ground in one hit- and then shaking their fist and looking to their bf saying something like “well I haven’t done that in a long time” *insert cute giggle* then kicks the guy as hard as they can in the gut while he’s on the floor. König is just 👀🧍‍♂️😳

Bonus if the soldier gets up and König is just like I think tf not and stands in front of y/n/blocks them with his body protectively. <33333

Get decked, noob

OOC BUT OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ANON, SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT EXAMS HAVE BEEN KICKING MY ASS, ANYWAY I LOVE THIS SO MCUH YOU ARE MYBFACOURITE ANON NOE BUT DONT TELL THE ITHERS!!

You couldn't wait to see the look on Königs face!

For once, your boss had actually let you go home earlier. You had no idea why they did, but what did it matter? An occurrence like that should be celebrated! With food!!

You had visited Königs 'Oma' in Austria a few weeks back and managed to mooch a bunch of recipes from her that brought comfort to your lover back in his childhood. He had been really down for the last two weeks and now you finally had time to surprise him with one of those dishes!

It was a little after noon, he had told you his lunch break was at two, so you had a good hour and a half to cook this thing and deliver it to him so he didn't have to buy a stale meal from the cafeteria he was always complaining about. No pressure at all!

There was no time for debating what to make, you closed your eyes and picked one at random. Kaiserschmarrn! That looked easy enough.

Thank god it was easy enough to cook as you thought, you even added raisins. You couldn't quite comprehend how this man loved to add them to every sweet you let him, but if he likes it, you're doing it. You even found some apple sauce in the fridge, choosing to put it into a smaller, different container (while praying it was airtight because you just couldn't deal with spillage right now).

You put it all in a baggie, added a cute little note with a drawing of him and left your house. You just managed to catch the bus in the direction of his work, stopping only a little before.

The ride was a little stressful, traffic was slow and you had to wrap his meal in your coat so it stayed warm.

Once you finally got off, you pretty much sprinted towards the massive base. Pretty much everyone knew you there already, returning your cheery, loud greeting and pointing you in Königs direction before you could even ask. They've done this enough times to know exactly what you were there for.

You ran of with a quick thanks and entered one of the many buildings on base. Were it not for the numbers written on them, you would've definitely gotten lost in all these similar-looking buildings.

Navigating through the corridors, you relied on the signs on the walls to not get lost. The place seemed almost deserted, most soldiers would be in the mensa around this time.

Hope was almost lost until you heard talking! Finally, you could ask someone for directions instead of relying on signs in a language you stopped trying to understandin a long time ago. It even sounded like... König! Talking to someone! Oh you couldn't wait to surprise him! Sneaking up on the corner, you waited for the perfect time to strike.

You really hadn't meant to eavesdrop. Hell, you felt kind of bad for a second, but hearing their conversation made you glad you were there.

"God König, is it that fucking hard to land a shot? Honestly, it's bordering on pathetic... How did someone like you make it this far?"

"Look I- ich hab mich ja schon entschuldigt... Es tut mir wirklich leid, Mann."¹

"And will you stop acting like a baby? It's embarrassing. Hah, no wonder everyone picked on you back i-"

SLAP.

You hadn't given him the chance to finish his insult, putting all your anger into the punch. He fell to the floor, but you were far from done with him, giving him a few strong kicks to the stomach for good measure.

"Haha, haven't done that in a looonnggg time. Hey babe!"

"Ich- öhhh, hallo Schatz? What are you doing here?" König visibly relaxed, but was still playing with his hands, slowly swaying in a side to side motion with his hips. You ran up to hug him, burying your face in his massive, albeit covered, tibbies.

"Missed you. Got out of work early." You stuck your hand carrying the back into the direction of his face. "Lunch."

A smile made it's way in your face when you heard him giggle. He gently pulled the bag from your hand and opened it. Even with his mask, his eyes had that obvious smile in them.

"Wow! Did you make this?" He wrapped his arms around you, slightly leaning into your body.

"Yeah, tried one of the recipes from good ol' Oma!"

"Don't call her old! But... Thank you. Both for lunch and punching this fucker in the face. He made me very uncomfortable." His arms got tighter, pulling you further into him.

"Is he why you've been so sad recently? I've got a few more punches left in me!"

"Yes, but I don't think he'll be bothering me any more." He turned his head away, looking at the space behind you, his voice suddenly growing deeper. "Will he?"

A quiet 'no' was audible before panicked footsteps moved away from your location.

"Anyway, why don't you stay until my break is over? I know a beautiful place a few minutes away from here. Es wären nur wir beide?"²

"How could I ever say no to that, mein König?"

Translation:

¹ "Look, I already apologized. I'm sorry, man."

² "It would only be us two?"

Bonus:

"God, I can't wait to eat this Kaiserschmarrn... It smells so gooddd" You could practically hear the drool running down his chin, giggling at the thought.

"Do you only use me for food?"

He didn't respond, choosing instead to pick you up, bridal style, and start running.

"HEY! Don't distract from the question!! You would me König, you wound me..."

You dramatically feigned fainting as he started laughing loudly, the laugh you loved so much.

[mimiso-soup]

Because the song was released today, I need to talk about one of my favourite Vocaloid duet ever. If my friends don't associate me with this song, then I'm clearly doing something wrong. /hj

The song? 'Ice breaker' by NejishikiP featuring Yuzuki Yukari & IA, which is now 5 years old!!

Gonna be rambling a lot, so more under the cut! It's going to mostly be about my feelings towards the song itself and my personal interpretation of its meaning! It's stupidly long because there's just so many things I love about this song so sorry in advance dfgfnhfg

Firstly, my feelings towards 'Ice breaker' overall!

While this wasn't my first Nejishiki song I listened to, after finding his channel, I quickly became invested in Nejishiki's music for a number of 5 things:

Nejishiki mainly uses Yuzuki Yukari, one of my favourite Vocal Synths of all time.

He also uses IA, another Vocal Synth I love.

His songs are mainly composed on the jazzier side, specifically jazz fusion and electro swing. I heavily lean towards jazz music, which, combined with Yukari, is meant for jazz music, this means automatic interest for me.

When it comes to duets, he often uses YukaIA. I am a huge YukaIA shipper.

One of his main themes in his music is yuri. And I fucking love yuri.

And before anyone tries to prove me wrong about Nejishiki shipping YukaIA, I need you all to know that this is in the description in English.

I'm not musically talented to really talk about the musical aspects of the song. But just listening to it, there's something that just sounds like "desire", which I feel fits the song well.

Secondly, my personal interpretation of the song.

I don't know any Japanese and I have to heavily rely on translations (the ones on Youtube and the one on the Wiki are somewhat different, but I'll be referencing to both). I also tend to miss notable details in the MV (which is a shame because I really enjoy Danjou Sora's MVs), so there might be a lot of things that I could be missing about the song's meaning. (As I'm writing this, I'm going back and forth between typing and watching the MV.)

How I see this song, I always knew that YukaIA love each other here. But it's not exactly what's considered a "typical" romantic relationship. From they are portrayed in the song, they seem to have a "friends with benefits" type of relationship where they only see each other for. Specific reasons. But with the lyrics, it feels like that they want more than that. They want to actually be together and date without just being together for sex.

The title seems to add to that. An 'ice breaker' is often referred to a thing where people do activities (play games, starting a conversation, etc) so it can "break the tension" between people. It is also a drink. In the song, it seems to refer to the drink with the Wiki translated line of 'Your tears fall into the glass and become a bittersweet cocktail of sorrow' but I think it refers to both. It feels that YukaIA haven't exactly "broken the ice" between them and with the lines 'when will we see each other again? weeping and crying', they only see each other for one purpose.

One of my favourite details in the MV is the line 'mousou wa kumo no ito' at 1:24 and 3:34, which roughly translates to 'delusion is a spiderweb'. In those moments, a thin thread snaps as if to say "the thin thread holding onto reality is broken easily".

I'm not the best as these kinds of things, so I could be wrong about these things. If anyone has any interpretations about the song, please let me know!

Overall, please, please, please listen to the original! It just recently reached a million views last year (and last year, I listened to this song at least 100 times a day to help get it there /hj), it's criminally underated. There are so many human covers that are more popular than it, and while human vocals aren't bad (I listen to utaites as much as I listen to Vocal Synth music on a daily basis!) It's the kind of song where there will be hundreds of covers, but the original itself isn't popular. And as someone who cherishes the original, it's quite saddening. So please, listen to this song as many times possible today!

Sorry, this is such a messy rambling that I wish was more organized and more well written. I have so many feelings for this song and I'm not the best with these kinds of things. (maybe I'll clean this up in the future fdgfndbg)

[caltropspress]

ShrapKnel in the Bardo

Two Nights on Tour with Curly Castro and PremRock

19 June 2024 | Brooklyn, NY | Public Records

20 June 2024 | Rutherford, NJ | Soldato Books

How many intelligent people in the house tonight?

—KRS-One for Boogie Down Productions, “Poetry,” Live Hardcore Worldwide (1991)

When I say it’s about wanting to live, I just say that because that’s how I feel. When you get hit with death, sometimes as horrible as it is, one of the things that can come out of it is a reaffirmation of how much you don’t want to go…

—El-P, Cancer 4 Cure press junket (2012)

This is beyond my wildest dreams. Every fucking minute of this hip-hop shit. I’m here to live it, and I’m here to love it.

—Curly Castro, prior to performing “Dreadlocs Falling”

1.

I am not a spiritual person. But when something’s got cha opin, it’s a must to be receptive to the signal and the signs. Ignoring the counsel of billy woods, I was at soundcheck. Public Records was sparsely populated when I arrived around five o’clock, earlier than the artists even, the soundman assuming I was the talent. As Prodigy says on “Live Nigga Rap,” “NYC, U-N-I-verse, seriously.” Because, seriously, a universality and a convergence would be taking place in New York City this evening. The first of the night’s performers to walk through the door was Controller 7, flanked by Emynd and Scott Matelic. 

CONTROLLER 7:  The last time the three of us were together was Scribble Jam in 2000. I think we fell right back into the old flow. I was staying at Scott’s and he lives in Brooklyn, so it made things a lot easier. He knew where things were and I didn’t have to worry about anything. He and I hung out at Dove’s studio the night before with Sharif and Dose. That kinda helped break the ice a bit too, since I knew Sharif was going to be a guest in the ShrapKnel set. Emil and Scott ended up walking with me to the venue and it probably did set me at ease. When we were at the venue, I just kept meeting person after person, faces I already knew from the internet, and I really never had a chance to even get too nervous about anything. Everyone was so cool that I felt really welcomed. I hadn’t done a show in about 15 years and, in all honesty, I’ve never really done a show. It’s just been like 2-3 beat sets over a 26-year period.

We immediately started conversing about production credits from 25 years ago. There I was, a disembodied voice from the telephone made manifest, warping time, fixated on facts and fictions from another lifetime. But they indulged me, kindly.

1.1

Watch me breathe…feel me breathe, Mike Ladd spoketh on “Blade Runner” in 1997. I want to believe in the Latin sense of spiritus—that windnbreeze, that inspiration, that black star respiration, the collective breath that circulates communally, historically. And then there’s the spirit-rapping. Not breath control, per se, but when mediums had their way and say in society, they listened for the knock, knock [GZA adjacent] of paranormal communications. U.N.K.L.E. and Kool G Rap called it the “drums of death.” In the 16th century, Paracelsus cited the [something like a…] phenomenon as pulsatio mortuorum, or “death omen,” homie. 

1.11

On Live Hardcore Worldwide, Boogie Down Productions’ live album from 1991, KRS-One’s performance of “Breath Control” exhibits mostly that, though I must confess he sounds, ironically, a bit exasperated as he repeats, Breath control, breath control, breath control… This, in no way, sacrifices his reigning supreme. To err is human. (And the adverbial doubt inherent to “Over Nearly Everyone” tells me he recognizes this as well.) ShrapKnel, on the other hand—emcees Curly Castro and PremRock—make no such sacrifices. They amethyst rock with ānāpānasati, zen masters of the ceremony. Amethyst rockstars heed the cautions set forth by the Blastmaster on “Breath Control,” though. They know what the weaker performers among us rely on: “They want dancers, they want lighting, / They want effects to make ’em look exciting, / But it’s frightening, ’cause without that, / The whole crew is wick-wick-wick-wack.”

1.12

I introduced myself to Controller 7. We’d been acquainted for several years, but had never met in person. I [un]officially began gathering notes for a book on the Anticon collective, of which Controller 7 was an early member, in March 2017. Seven years later, that book is nearing completion. Tommy (Controller 7) was one of the first interviews I conducted for the book—we had that phone call in March of 2019. Scott Matelic and Emynd, affiliates to Anticon, were also some of my earliest interviews. I spoke with them on the phone in January and February of 2019, respectively. Caltrops Press was born in July 2020, concurrent with the underground rap renaissance that we’re now experiencing. One of the central themes of the Anticon book (title TBA soon) examines the underground scene(s) as a sprawling network. So when Tommy confided in me early last year that he had been commissioned to produce the new ShrapKnel record, I began to feel the thrum of an everything that rises must converge momentum. I’d considered alternate realities in the seven years spent working on the book—those preexisting, premillennial networks couldn’t have completely collapsed—and now time and space seemed to begin to bend and bow in strange and suggestive ways. 

1.2 On June 1, 2023, I attended the Maps record release show at Baby’s All Right. ShrapKnel opened for woods and Kenny Segal. They performed “Illusions of P,” a song they had started to debut on tour stops around the country. I sent a woefully insufficient iPhone 6 video of the performance to Tommy.

1.3

In August of 2023, Tommy messaged me: “I can’t tell you what, but there is a song that features Aesop and he says ‘caltrops’ on it.” Two months later, that song would turn out to be A7PHA’s “Many Headed,” a hell-bent hydra head nadda’s journey featuring the likes of Self Jupiter and Buck 65. And there was Aesop Rock speaking of “hopscotchin’ caltrops, / Cloud of black smoke, no black box.” On April 19, 2024, the “Many Headed (Controller 7 Remix)” was loosed upon the world. Tommy recruited Curly Castro and PremRock to contribute to the ever-expanding posse cut, a guest appearance in anticipation of Nobody Planning To Leave. Therein, Prem promises a “double-edged sword on the neck of an edgelord,” and Castro paints a militant picture: “Once it took a nation, / Now it takes a phalanx.”

CONTROLLER 7:  I asked them to do a trade-off like on “Babylon by Bus.” The remix feels a bit like my Deep Puddle Dynamics remix [“Rain Men”], 25 years later. Posse cut, changes in the music, unexpected. It feels kinda full circle. Dose is at the end of both. The Deep Puddle remix was kinda the “Well, let’s see what I can do,” and my skills and equipment were so basic at the time. This is now the 25 years later “Let me show you what I can do.” But somehow they actually come very much from the same spirit.

Spirit. Convergence.

2.

By 5:30, PremRock arrived in his unassuming human form—a man who has measured out his life in cocktail spoons, to paraphrase Prufrock; Castro appeared not long after that in camo pants, prepped with silent weapons for the loud wars to come. Prem, I noticed, had a mic in his pocket.

PREMROCK:  I bring my own mic everywhere! A gift from Willie Green some years ago. I believe it was a beta test and now many venues use it. It’s more suited for live performances and the dynamics don’t change with cupping. Also, I’m a bit of a germaphobe, so there’s that too.

For soundcheck, they got right into “Metallo.” Soundman checked the levels in the center of the room while Prem mentioned bots trying to sell tickets to the show online—“a breakthrough,” he called it. Where Prem is gregarious during the pregame, Castro is focused with the concentration of Simeon Stylites atop the pillar (Simeon says, Shut the fuck up!)—he makes medieval monasteries of any modern venue. When they ran through “Deep Space 9 Millie Pulled a Pistol,” the venue experimented with casting a red light over them—the color of De La’s predator Santa suit and the guns pointed at El-P. Ideas began to click for me while listening to the guys test the levels on “LIVE Element” acapella. When Castro raps, “Prem and I, two-headed Cerberus Killa Show,” he’s not kidding. In that moment, even in an empty space with no audience to witness it, they were the “iLLest Duo, Known throughout the Known Earth.” Prem claims to be a “one-man tour machine” on “Dadaism 3,” but he does better with a two-man (like Duncan and Parker operating under the Coach Pop playbook).

PremRock and Castro don’t rehearse in any traditional way. Their method of preparation relies on trust in one another’s craft, and they covet a spirit of on-the-go recalibration. 

CURLY CASTRO:  Considering how far away we live from each other (Philly & NY), our rehearsals are slightly unorthodox in its practice. We select a set list with extreme detail, and then put in the hours on our own to master our parts. Usually, at the start of each respective tour, we are doing a fistful of songs for the first time. Then as we do the songs multiple times, we see what works, and by the end of a run, we have figured out the Live incantations of said songs. For the most part, once we settle into a set before a run, we have certain interchangeable Blades, but the set remains the same for most of any run we complete. Once upon any stage we can lengthen or shorten, or adapt our alchemy, for any Live setting in any Location.

I think about the aptness of their group name: ShrapKnel—with that capital-K stolen from Cube’s amerikkka. Lethal fragments and filings. The chorus on “Dadaism 3” tells the story: “Metal from the blast zone flying Each and Every Way.” Later, on “Steel Pan Labyrinth,” Castro describes using “the blades to write bars.” ShrapKnel with a K that cuts. A grapheme sans curves, a razor-sharp letter. “Sharp” and “Shrap” kindred as anagrammatic matters go. “Shrap is here to sharp the Blade,” Castro spits on “Uru Metal,” “De La Soul skits, decode and you’ll find the answer.” By the conclusion of soundcheck, the other performers and notable attendees—Child Actor, August Fanon, phiik and Lungs, even E. from The Next Movement podcast who picked up the ubiquitous Fatboi Sharif as she drove through Jersey—had filled the floor. 

AUGUST FANON:  I saw Lungs walking up to the venue right as me and my girlfriend Khadija were arriving, so we walked in together. phiik was already in the venue and, once together, they quickly jumped into their soundcheck. When I heard phiik spit that shit live sounding crispy like the record, I went crazy inside. I was like, Hell-fuckin’-yeah! Let’s go!

3.

I am Lungs…this is phiik, and it’s good as fuck to see so many familiar faces…

If phiik and Lungs—jointly recognized as Another Planet—have received much buzz of late, that buzz reached Havana Syndrome levels while opening for ShrapKnel on tour. Straight C.I.A. shenanigans that leave your neural-well unsteadied. They talk in maths and buzz like a fridge, like a detuned radio. They are Red and Meth for the anthropocene—a blackout, one-two, one-two punch who smoke bud and sniff a bee’s ass to get a buzz. 

phiik:  Prem & Castro really showed us the ropes & were such a joy to travel with. This was the first tour for both of us, so it was really helpful to get so comfortable so quickly. Something that Castro put us on to was drinking tea constantly. Pretty much every show we did he would be sipping on some beforehand. I never realized how your voice can go at any point.

CURLY CASTRO:  Prem and I caught wind of [phiik and Lungs] a few years back. Their respective style(s) appeared unparalleled. They were a galvanizing duo, who’s YouTube clip on “Off Top” gets the internet’s panties inna bunch and generates mega-bandwidth, as folks argue over their particular brand of word sorcery. The only surprise (even though I knew them capable, but it’s another thing to see it) was that their whirlwind quicksilver tongues were identical to what was put down on tape. An impressive feat all in itself, but a reassurance of the Blade protocol needed to run with us Wolves.

PREMROCK:  That was Nik Oliver, our booking agent, who suggested the pairing [with phiik and Lungs]. I was already a fan, and Castro was very tapped in too. I saw the vision pretty quickly. They are a rising duo and their reputation as people was strong. Always important to have folks vouch for you. It was a home run, in my opinion. They are special artists making special music. For their first tour, they approached it like seasoned vets. The road is a grind and your comfort zones and routines are shattered. They adapted quickly, and I was impressed by their nightly performances. Shout-out GAM, too. He’s a GRIP mainstay and a real stabilizer on the road. We had fun and got the job done. The best result.

phiik and Lungs fed off and ate up the hometown crowd throughout their unswerving 40-minute set at Pub Rex. They started with “Captain Picard” from Another Planet 4 (and they’d be planet-hopping haphazardly with quick shouts of “AP2!” and “AP3!” and such for their setlist), and they proceeded to “burn the house down like David Koresh,” as Lungs says, or like David Byrne in ’84 blackface. It’s good to be home, phiik said after the first number, sounding like Dorothy windswept and word-vexed. Drink of water demands were made prior to “SCOOBY” (off Planet X), but not in a diva way, just to stave off dehydration from the tireless spittin’ over the haunted industrial plant of a noface beat. Lungs taunted MCs who “can’t rap better than [him]” on “Kurt McBurt,” and by the middle of “She Could” I began to notice the full and crushing support that TASE GRIP offers up to each other. The whole cru pushed up against the stage, slapping and banging it when emotion flowed and numbers thronged, finishing bars for phiik and Lungs, sometimes screaming the whole damn thing. Wavy Bagels, AKAI SOLO, and S!LENCE at the center of the Dark & Stormy scene. When phiik rapped, “Never took a village to be the villain, / But we still in the building,” and a chorus of voices join him in dragging the end-rhyme out (...buildinnnnnn’), we felt the thrum. It takes a phalanx.

phiik stutter steps when it’s his turn on the mic, rapping to the ground. Lungs leans toward the edge of the stage—skinny elbows out, eyes bulging—and raps to the sky. Hell and heaven unified—purgatory raps for a cleansing of your soul. A barrage, as many have remarked. It’s like putting your face to the fan, your visage to the vents. “Make some noise for Lungs!” phiik shouts, hyping up his homie. “It’s not easy going from one track to another. The fuck is he doing? He’s a nut. He’s a crazy fuck.” There’s a symbiosis of support between phiik and Lungs, rooted in friendship. 

phiik:  Our work ethic together has definitely only developed & gotten better over the years, but our foundation of knowing each other so well helps without a doubt. Lungs & I have known each other pretty much our whole lives, so it was almost seamless in a way when we started to work on music together.

My mind goes to Live Hardcore Worldwide again—“The Eye Opener”—where it’s said: “Make some noise! This is all live, as you can plainly hear and see. There’s no lipsync business going on here!” Listening to them perform “Secret Power,” the titular secret power, I contend, is a guttersnipe glossolalia. Some trip-wire of tryptamines, divine DMT entities exiting their maws, untranslatable.

The affair became even more familial as phiik and Lungs invited GAM to kick a verse (“He DJs, drives us around, fucking raps…”). AKAI was brought onstage for a song triad. He rocked a keffiyeh in a classic P.L.O. style and demonstrated the muscular rapping we’ve come to expect when he’s in front of an audience, each word a heavy load to lift and spirit into your soul, slackening the suspensory ligament of your Third Eye lens. Confident, AKAI only has to lead the crowd with a “TASE” for them to follow back with “GRIP.” The chant doesn’t require any instructions of When I say… That’s the command he has.

phiik:  Heads are really a unit & move as such. And on top of that, everybody fully understands what’s going on & how much the support means. After seeing random heads for the majority of the tour, it was so nice to see the team when we came back home.

Another Planet closed their set with “Don Quixote,” but these MCs are less tilting at windmills than slicing at windpipes. “This is not mom’s spaghetti,” phiik raps, apropos. They’d recently been subject to some Eminem-like internet parasocial Stanic panic when P.O.W. Recordings put out a message saying “Funcrusher 2024” with a clip of Lungs’ “Off Top” Freestyle from 2022. Lungs, a man of bare minimum words on the interwebs, said: “Mfs really crashing out over the clip for the 4th time lol. All haters please keep hating we don’t give a fuck and the shit makes my PayPal go crazy every time.” 

phiik:  Honestly, we reaaaally don’t pay any mind to it as far as what the end result is. After a certain point, the discourse almost just becomes word vomit. Tons of people saying the same thing over & over. But at the same time, any press is good press. So I definitely didn’t mind it at all, and if anything it only creates a brand new lane of people who maybe have never heard of us, and those people develop into lifelong fans. Heads who dislike it will hate on it for a week & then move on. But, yeah, it’s absolutely only used as fuel & motivation.

On “Don Quixote,” Lungs raps about how “hip-hop fans from around the world [are] stalking on [his] page,” which seems hard to dispute. He pushes further: “Rappers behind on bills talking shit online in the same stinky Jay’s”—a prognosticator shine to his studio mic. The song ends with a GRIP-led crowd chorus of “HOLD ON A MINUTE, HOLD ON A MINUTE, HOLD ON A MINUTE!” but I couldn’t hold on to a single second in the set. It happened, and I was the better for it. “Read the book, it said Gimme mine,” phiik rapped. I have read the book, and Cervantes writes—and I was thinking to myself—“...with what minuteness they describe everything!”

CHOP THE HEAD:  I’ve never seen Lungs and phiik get that kind of reception—to have a few hundred people screaming the lyrics of those verses is an accomplishment in itself. I laugh every time I watch them live, because it just doesn’t make sense on a virtuosic level. Later that night, my man Q No Rap Name and I hung out with Lungs at his crib and, after meeting him, his music made even more sense to me. From the time we left the venue to the time we left his crib, he didn’t stop talking. He told fifty of the most bugged-out stories I’ve heard, and they all dovetailed off one another. Lungs and phiik are not affecting any part of their output; those dudes are really rapping about how they live and think. 

3.1

August Fanon and Child Actor stood side-by-side on the stage, laptop leaning as they went “back and forth and tr[ied] to surprise each other by playing some very rare unreleased things,” according to Child Actor.  

CHILD ACTOR:  It was Prem that originally pitched the idea of August Fanon and me doing a set together. I had assumed it was because he had heard about us sharing a bill last year (his and my first beat set of any kind), but according to him it was completely unrelated. August and I routinely bounce beats off each other and have been working on a project together, so it couldn’t have been a more serendipitous pairing. I had loosely prepared a longer set, but several days before the event I was notified that he and I were sharing a half hour. I thought it’d be fun if instead of going one after the other, we went back and forth in 2- or 3-minute chunks. That ended up feeling perfect. I didn’t let him send me anything beforehand because I knew it’d be fun to hear everything for the first time onstage. He certainly did not disappoint. I made sure to play only unreleased beats and songs-in-progress. One of them was a song that was mixed at the Greenhouse the day before. It may have been one of the nights with the highest percentage of people in the building that were friends/collaborators of mine. I definitely felt a great deal of support and appreciation—a very fun and fulfilling first NYC beat set for sure!

CHOP THE HEAD:  August Fanon and Child Actor’s friendly beat battle blew my mind several times over. They are both on the razor’s edge of traditionalism and pure experimentation. 

While I listened to a Fanon remix of Biggie’s “Suicidal Thoughts,” Mo Niklz and I stood in the audience chopping it up. I looked around and saw so many familiar faces in the space. Mo noticed it, too.

MO NIKLZ:  The room was packed and about 50% of those attending were artists, which is incredibly uncommon.

I asked Mo a couple questions, and in no time at all I was subject to what Castro calls “The Philosophy of Mo.” He talked about being roommates with Ceschi, meeting woods through PremRock and Willie Green, and making frequent trips down to NYC from Connecticut. “I wanted to let people know I was around,” he said. About once a month, woods would offer his couch to crash. They built a friendship and artistic relationship from there, with Mo functioning as woods’ DJ. Mo had played a crucial role on the New England leg of the Nobody Planning to Leave tour as well.

MO NIKLZ:  The tour actually stayed with me in New Haven on Sunday. They had their day off on Monday, and I booked the show in New Haven that was Tuesday. I bought everyone Sally’s Apizza Monday night and then made everyone an omelet for breakfast on Tuesday. I’ve known Prem and Castro for a while now but just met phiik and Lungs. I always like to think I’m the tour dad, but phiik and Lungs were kidding that I worry these rappers can’t take care of themselves when I’m not around so, sadly, I guess I’m more like a tour mom. The show in Connecticut was great. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, which was cool. I normally know just about everyone at a CT underground hip-hop show. The tour went to NYC that evening. I just had to bring their merch to the Brooklyn show the following day. I got there for doors and both phiik and Lungs told me they ate well that day. “What will these rappers eat if Mo doesn’t bring them food?” they said to me. Prem helped me bring their merch in but it took him about fifteen minutes to get out the door. He kept running into a bunch of great people congratulating him on the album. We got outside and somebody else congratulated him and left. Prem said, “Did you not know him? That was Swordplay.” I was like, Oh damn, that sucks. I would’ve liked to have said hi. We finally get the merch from the car, and on our way back in, Prem got stopped again by a guy wearing some dope glasses and a Black Moon shirt. Prem said, “Hey, have you two met? Mo this is Doseone,” which was funny because we both turned to each other and said, “Oh man, I was just talking about you.” It was bizarre because Child Actor and I were talking video games a week ago and Doseone had put him on to a game he was enjoying. I said [to Child Actor], “You know he’s like one of the OG indie hip-hop legends I’ve never met.” It was pretty surreal to me. He already knew a lot of my DJ work, my job shipping records for Fake Four, and that I make pickles. Wild because basically nobody in my family has any concept of what I do, but he knew the gravity of it all.

3.11

Mo’s nourishment and maternal nurturing helped contribute to what Prem and Castro would consider their most successful tour yet.

PREMROCK:  I think we started seeing the ripple effect of fan support online translate to a tangible crowd in a realer way this run like we haven’t before. The record had only been out 1.5 weeks so to see the interest it generated so quickly was really encouraging. Touring is difficult financially—that’s been discussed at length—but seeing results and trending upwards makes you feel like it’s a viable path to growth, and nothing kills morale more than a couple duds in a row and fortunately we had none.

CURLY CASTRO:  This tour evoked a grand feeling of support. Other tours have had bigger rooms, other tours have had longer durations, but this one seemed rooted in classic Hip-Hop community. Some very welcome surprises, as to who showed up, along the way. Finally, this was our first time, in some time, we actually toured the record close to its initial release. And since this was/is our best work, then it can be perceived that this was our best tour. But I find us advancing levels with every MadMax jaunt across this wasteland we call ’Murica.

3.2

The Fanon/Child Actor set was immediately followed by Controller 7’s brief set, a prelude to ShrapKnel taking the stage. The order of performers was the subject of some debate during soundcheck. I sort of felt like I was watching Meth and Ghostface argue on the Bullet Train in Japan in The Show when Ghost took umbrage at Meth speaking too much during radio interviews.

PREMROCK:  Castro disagreed with the proposed order at Pub Rex. He thought beats first then phiik & Lungs. Beats/raps/beats/raps with Controller 7 on before us. Makes sense, right? Well, I disagreed. I saw Fanon and Child Actor as an event and not a head-nod lo-fi hangout. phiik and Lungs just before us and Controller 7, in my opinion, dwindled the impact and the inevitable smoke break may have had heads missing their opening set. There’s nothing like immediate decapitation! Crowd is transfixed. There’s the, “Well, where do you go from there?” argument, but I contend… How about two of the greatest producers doing it going cut for cut?! Also, I had exceptions with the late proposal. It would’ve been difficult to audible, and I was exhausted from the road already and high tension at our hometown release show receiving a good dozen texts per hour with dumb questions already, so I may have been terse! But we are brothers and we talk it out and stand our ground and always come to a solution. End of the day, we believe in each other and what we are doing and we will check each other if the math is not mathing. Any collaboration needs to hold space for disagreement. We do it well over here.

Controller 7 was as sheepish-as-ever, letting the crowd know how uncharacteristic it was for him to be standing on a stage playing music. But the crowd was nothing if not supportive, cheering him at every turn. 

CONTROLLER 7:  When I started the set, I ended up talking as an intro. Then I ended up talking through the set, sort of explaining what I was playing. I didn’t intend to do that, but it just kinda worked out that way. I don’t usually think of “me” as being part of the music. I hate being in photos; I’m not trying to be in the spotlight. I just make stuff for people to listen to. Being in front of a group of people staring at me while music plays is not my ideal format, so I think I ended up talking as a way to bridge all of that.

I looked to my left and saw Dose standing in the center of the room. To know, in an epistemological sense, is a strange feeling when you’ve spent so many hours documenting a person’s life and work in words, and then suddenly there they are in the physical—circulatory system, blood, bile, nerves, skeleton frame standing upright. Like seeing a ghost. Like spacetime sealing shut—closed curves appearing in my pathway. My head is a repository of the knowledge I’ve been remembering, acquiring, and word-rendering over the past seven years, so I thought about a story Tommy told me on the phone back in 2019—how he hauled his 4-track over to Dose and Jel’s Berkeley apartment in early 2000, the dawn of a new millennium, and watched Dose record a track for Left Handed Straw from the page of a randomly selected book. I found a pattern within the chaos of a complex system. 

DOSEONE:  Seeing Controller 7’s metamorphosis and rebirth into the beast he is today made my year.

Tommy played the instrumental portion of the “Many Headed” remix that’s home to Dose’s closing verse. Every fiber of me thought Dose would cut through the crowd and perform it onstage, but alas… A standout moment was hearing Quelle Chris’s evocative voice over an atmosfearik beat—a yet-to-be released “demo” (it sounded finished to my novice ears) with lyrics every bit as unnerving as the production: “The killer’s in the room, / The call is coming from somebody clearly watching what I’m doin’, / You can sense impending doom.” Another unreleased song featured Nappy Nina and Sam Herring/Hemlock Ernst, and it hit like a feel-good and melodic radio friendly unit shifter.

CONTROLLER 7:  I’m not a finger drummer or a live performer; I’m more of an overly anxious obsessive. I tried to find a way to make [my set] something that would be interesting for people and also not super complicated for me. I had to fly out there and I don’t usually perform, so I didn’t know what equipment to bring. I had an SP404, which I’ve never used to make beats, but it came in handy for what I wanted to do. I spent a week or two leading up to the show mapping things out. I knew that our time was short because we had to end at 10:30, so I was just doing a fifteen minute set. I ended up making a handful of new things, shortened a few older things, and made working demos of some unreleased songs I had. I basically made it the way I wanted to hear it and then I just mapped it out over the pads.

4.

“Some of us have children that age!” is what Castro said of Controller 7’s years-long absence from the stage. As he and Prem positioned themselves, arranged mic cords, prepped their mentals, Controller 7 pressed play—like a detonator switch—on the intro to Nobody Planning to Leave (“It worries me…a lot”). Prem invited the crowd in closer: “The moat exists.” He set down the drawbridge and raised the portcullis between performer and assembled people. But, as “Metallo” began, I recognized it takes more than infrastructure to traverse the alligator-infested muddy waters that Prem and Castro put before us.

4.1

The sounds that you’re about to hear shall be devastating to your ear.

—introduction to “Mellow My Man,” The Roots Come Alive (1999)

The hallmark of a ShrapKnel song is the ridiculoid referents. PremRock and Castro present a maximalist vision that is part and parcel to what Secret House Against calls their “b-boy sensibilities.” They’re from an era when, in Castro's words, “white labels [were] like bibles” (“Deep Space 9 Millie Pulled a Pistol”); they're guys who “used to rock all Naughty gear” (“Kaishakunin”). The two deliver a nostalgic notion for anyone that might’ve spent hours flipping through Tommy Boy perforated liner notes in the 90s.

Even an interlude (such as “Bogdan Interlude”) can yield Kemetic symbolism alongside quotidian city dwelling (“Bum a loosie offa Sekhmet”), can twist and turn from Swahili to Chicago hip-hop (“Habari gani, / One day it’ll make sense”), and conclude with a blaxploitation film screening that leaves whitefolks’ eyebrows raised. Curly Castro, a tru master of maximalism In the Ways of the Scales, word to Brother J.

ShrapKnel flex mechanical shells, and Curly Castro is a b-boy fabulist. Rather than eschew surplusage, he welcomes it. He moves maxi- and mega- in what Stefano Ercolino calls the “encyclopedic mode” wherein each song becomes an archive of subcultural signs. On “Metallo,” Castro’s maximalism bends into a barrage of references: Breaking Bad, Killarmy, Darrell Walker, J.R.R. Tolkien, Gordon Ramsay, Raekwon, Outkast, Monta Ellis, AZ, et cetera. His allusions collapse under the weight of each other, resulting in hybrids—mongrels. Mongr-allusions like “Slick Ricky in dah Foxhole” in which rapper Slick Rick and pretty-boy baller Rick Fox become one entity. These hypertrophic lines accumulate bar by bar, and—before long—you’re lost in the deluge. A twenty-first century rendition of what Hugo Ball did in the Dada Manifesto, dated July 14, 1916: “Dada Stendhal. Dada Dalai Lama,” conflating the French novelist and the Tibetan tulku. Tack on Black Thought’s “South Philly, Dalai Lama” slight rewrite for the performance of “The Next Movement” from The Roots Come Alive, and we edge closer to what Castro achieves. El Producto once called them “manimal hybrids” on “End to End Burners.”

Even when ShrapKnel doesn’t explicitly construct the mongr-allusion, it’s implicit. If you’ve done the work, shown and proven yourself worthy, the matrices will materialize right before your very eyes. [Rappers got on colored contacts but they better realize, as a wise intelligent redhead wonce said.] In Prem’s words (from “Dadaism 3”), you’ve got to “read in between the seams of the embroidery.” All of their verses amount to what Ray Bradbury called “fearful puzzles”—and lethargic listeners avoid looking too closely or delving too deeply. The past is present and the future is now, and so when Prem promises to “let a bygone be bygone” only to revoke it (“...even though I won’t”), he suddenly back-slashes to Mase in an utterly different context: 112’s “Only You” (1996) where a girl goes around with thousands in her palms. “Why you can’t let bygones be bygones?” Because nothing is ever gone for ShrapKnel; nothing outmoded, nothing defunct, everything of use.

Prem immediately invokes the “funhouse mirror” on “Metallo”—everything appears in the funhouse mirror, but its reflection is warped. This is another maximalist turn, true to John Barth’s Lost in the Funhouse (1968). “For whom is the funhouse fun?” Barth asks. Perhaps it’s fun for the MC who observes that we’ve “been in post-singularity since that AI Georgetown Hoya team.” He’s Hugo Baller. Prem, who has “learned to astral project since quarantine,” adroitly sustains a trisyllabic rhyme scheme [“nightmares deployed in threes,” for the uninitiated] throughout his verse on “Dadaism 3.” His intensive and keen listenings [to the likes of an 89.9 detrimental frequency] over the years have led to a constant state of becoming, of being, of becoming a radiohead. In his own way, he’s the “paranoid android loitering,” absorbing knowledge—be it a Fondle ‘Em 12-inch from 1997, “speaking noxious” like Cage Kennylz; or the debut LP of a quintet from Oxford in 1993, wondering about the “creeping doubt” that “keeps rattling [his] cage” like Thom Yorke—and then he dispenses it to his audience in the form of Aesop fables (“splitting hairs[/hares], slow and steady on my Tortoise speed”) and Wojnarowski scoops (“Otto Porter top-of-market deal”). This process—playing the long game—might have you “forget the words [he] just blurted out,” but he’s gonna continue to get “open till he’s brain-dead, till you’re brain-dead.”

4.11

The Roots Come Alive (1999) begins—not with The Roots—but with Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five traveling through time to hit us “Live from the T-Connection,” nesting one of the earliest hip-hop recordings of a live event within the content of a live recording on the eve of Y2K destruction. Lineage matters, The Roots acknowledge, and these transmitted words are just as relevant to a ShrapKnel performance in 2024:

Now I know this ain’t the best party in the world, but let me explain something to y’all, New York. It ain’t no party unless each and every one of you try to make it a party—you dig what I’m saying? Make each record your best record, and we could rock all night long.

4.111

Supporters came from across the country, from overseas even, to experience the ShrapKnel showcase. “A whole lot of superstars in the house tonight,” Prem said at one point, echoing Rev. Run. Friends and kinfolx from Switzerland, California, Seattle, New Mexico, Texas, Philadelphia, Connecticut… Fuck it, we’ll do it live! Prem shouted to his tourmates standing stage-side—an inside-joke, an O’Reilly parody—but keeping that same passion and energy through “Dadaism 3” and “Steel Pan Labyrinth.” “If anyone ever asks you the question,” the intro to Live Hardcore Worldwide declares, “Who is the number one set and sound? You will quickly reply…”

<whispered>

“ShrapKnel.”

4.2

On “Why Is That?” off Live Hardcore Worldwide, KRS-One breaks down the genealogy of Blackness in the Bible acapella and announces that “the age of the ignorant rapper is done.” That was in the 1-9-9-1. But in the 2-0-2-4, Curly Castro finds himself disillusioned by KRS’s pontifications and panderings to the likes of New York City’s top coprophage, Mayor Adams. “Halcyon Hip-Hop inna Temple, / Membership would Bend, / KRS, of course, would sell the course, / But then the Fun would End.” Let’s all hold hands and hum along to Co Flow’s “Happy Happy Joy Kill,” hmm?

Castro resembles one of Dada’s “honored poets,” in the words of Hugo Ball, “who are always writing with words but never writing the word itself, who are always writing around the actual point.” Castro writes around the actual point, but he’s never pointless. You can listen to his 9mm go bang on the chorus of “Dadaism 3” (Wa da da Dee Dee da da Dee Dee da da Day), and it harmonizes with Ball issuing forth an invocation: “dada m’dada, dada m’dada dada mhm, dada dere dada.”

5.

Before I go on live all my enemies try to contrive

plots to make my whole entire routine take a swan dive.

But this ain’t commercialized hip-hop…

—Buck 65 (1999)

“LIVE Element,” but DEATH pervades Nobody Planning to Leave. LIVE in all CAPS—a stylized emphasis on life and living, but O DEATH, none can excel. ShrapKnel refuse & resist! They arrive as a def fresh crew, and like the haintish vocal of Roxanne Shanté echoing across galaxies, they came here tonight to get started, but not to cold act ill in any sense other than she intended. Certainly nothing cellular. No icy hands get ahold of them. Hip-hop, each and every mic check, is Life or Death—you’re breathing the sniper’s breath. DEATH is everywhere on Nobody Planning to Leave, from the David Berman references, quotations, and puns to PremRock’s opening words on the album. Prem spurns DEATH; instead, he will go thou and preach his gospel (Luke 9:60 KJV): “I don’t wanna bury the dead, / Pallbearer for carried dread.” He lifts the gossamer veil so that he “might sneak through” and survive. He knows from Black Thought—in sharing some of the blackest of thoughts—that if you “step into the realm, you’re bound to get caught, / And from this worldly life, you’ll soon depart.” 

Prem knows this region well; he knows the feel of ash beneath foot and the hematic heat against his face. On “Bardo,” the CD-only bonus cut from Load Bearing Crow’s Feet, he grapples with the pre-grief of existential knowing. “See, I’ve been told a lie,” he raps on the chorus, “swans don’t actually sing when they die, / They hit the same note you do when you croak, / No poetic epilogue or even goodbye, / But I be waiting over here on this side.” He’s on the side of the living, of poetic monologues, of greetings and gratitude. The only death rattle he recognizes is the one he hears at the end of a night of performing, his voice ragged. He imagines the walls “stress[ing] the importance of time… / Muttering something ’bout chakras and alignment.” But for his living self, what matters is more material than all that. “I be at the mom and pop shop to drop me off some consignment,” he says. To “get [his] affairs in order” has nothing to do with firming up his estate; it’s about getting paid in full. Equating his music career [Doseone calls “music career” an oxymoron, by the way] with impending death is only one example of the artist qualifying/quantifying life and livelihood—but there’s really no quantizing Death’s drums. On “Nutkracker Blues,” Castro talks about the urgency of having a verse “at the deadline and it’s Gotta be Perfect.”

Conventional thinking insists that there’s a transitory nature, a finitude, to doing what they do, these rappers. In 2002, on “Shrapnel,” Slug said, “I can’t remember who asked me, but someone asked me, / How long I thought that I would be allowed atop this trash heap.” Atmosphere, it just so happens, is the quintessential indie hip-hop success story, touring extensively and endlessly, selling out thousand-seat capacity ballrooms, pavilions, and amphitheaters—even two decades after those words were recorded. But most artists end up with “shards of pulled cards scattered on the carpet” (as Slug raps on “Shrapnel”); as Prem says on “Human Form,” you’re hustling from “bassinet to coffin.” On “Illusions of P,” he cloaks the agony of abbreviation in a clever pun about Royal Tenenbaum (“you fake ill”). The gut punch, though, is realizing “none of this will last forever.” While he can, he continues: “You only pray it will. / Illusions of hunting permanence, you pray still, / Ay still, lay still, lay still.” What’s the worst fate of all? Another dearly departed artist yet to make a dent.

5.1

The monetizing of emotions and songs, the dividends paid or owed, the commodification of life lived, could make it feel like you’ve been dealt a bum hand. “You got all these songs that you never play for anyone,” Prem raps on “Death on the Installment Plan,” and so he goddamns it. Death on the installment plan—a phrase he cribbed from Céline in 2021—has transformed into Nobody Planning to Leave in 2024. NOBODY DEATH-PLANNING, in other words. If we look at the novel itself from 1936, we can find a shred of hope, though. Provided here, context-less, a page from Céline [apply it to Prem and/or Castro, won’t you?]: 

To command his audience… He explained the working of the valves, the guy rope, the barometers, the laws of weight and ballast. Then carried away by his subject, he embarked on other fields, expatiating, ad-libbing without order or plan, about meteorology, mirages, the winds, cyclones… He touched on the planets, the stars… Everything was grist for his mill: the zodiac, Gemini…Saturn…Jupiter…Arcturus and its contours…the moon…Bellegophorus and its relief… He pulled measurements out of his hat… About Mars he could talk at length… He knew it well… It was his favorite planet… He described all the canals, their shape and itinerary! their flora! as if he’d gone swimming in them!… While he was perched up there shooting the shit, spellbinding the masses, I took up a little collection…

I was in Public Records to take up a little collection.

5.11

ShrapKnel spellbinds the masses with everything from superheroes to supervillains to sports figures of legend and little renown. Castro is MC John Corben—Metallo with metal lungs. The fluoroscope reveals the metallic structure of his bones and organs, and he’s got kryptonite in his fuse-box, which is to say he’s got a kind of death totem close at heart. The trouble is, Castro found himself stricken by the sense of green, glowing death that Metallo delivered to Superman. He won’t relinquish his life, though. He refuses the sick-box. He’s riding to Babylon by bus but persevering through every torment or trial, hell or high water. He will lively up himself against all odds. 

5.111

“The bus door opened and I placed my foot upon the step. Quite suddenly, there was music swelling up into my head, as if a choir of angels had boarded the Second Avenue bus directly in front of me. They were singing the last chorus of an old spiritual of hope: Gonna die this death on Cal—va—ryyyyy BUT AIN’T GONNA DIE NO     MORE…! Their voices sweet and powerful over the din of the Second Avenue traffic. I stood transfixed on the lower step of the bus.  “Hey girlie, your fare!” I shook myself and dropped my two coins into the fare-box. The music was still so real I looked around me in amazement as I stumbled to a seat. Almost no one else was in the late-morning bus, and the few people who were there were quite ordinarily occupied and largely silent. Again the angelic orchestration swelled, filling my head with the sharpness and precision of the words; the music was like a surge of strength. It felt rich with hope and a promise of life—more importantly, a new way through or beyond pain. I’ll die this death on Calvary ain’t           gonna       die                no     more! The physical realities of the dingy bus slid away from me.”

—Audre Lorde, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name (1982)

5.2

When Curly Castro writes his biomythography, it might well be titled Babylon by Bus. Footnotes might detail the routines of road life, like Warren G vacuuming the tour bus in The Show; early chapters might reflect on the Kris Kross-type innocence of missing a school bus (“And that is something I will never ever ever do again”); he might dispense with rumors and “dickhead logic,” celebrating collaborations like “Babylon by Bus” with woods and Prem; but he most definitely will amalgamate his years of movements and commotions into a totalizing whole. Everything that rises must converge, as Flannery O’Connor says. Bob Marley and the Wailer’s Babylon by Bus will evolve into Mike Ladd’s “Blade Runner” (1997), which in turn becomes “Bladerunners” (1999) with Co Flow featured, but retains the same lyric nonetheless: “As we do babylon by bus straight to Rikers.” See, it’s about building, about building, about bringing more bodies onboard the bus.” The bus stopped with a sudden jerk and shook him from his meditation.

5.21  THE CENTRAL PARK CHAPTER

The biomythography will provide a meta-commentary on ShrapKnel’s arc as a group (just as “LIVE Element” does). The chapter might be titled “Hip-Hop Heaven,” which is what Castro has called the weekend of August 13-15 in 2021. He meant heaven in terms of enthroned deities rather than death, but DEATH determined itself.

The SummerStage performance was headlined by Armand Hammer and The Alchemist. Moor Mother, Kayana, Fielded, and GENG PTP were also on the bill. It was a major booking for ShrapKnel. “We got at least two lives to give tonight,” Prem raps on “Nutkracker Blues,” and though the song sympathizes with Group Home in flashes, the sentiment speaks to the duality of that Central Park performance. “You are what you leave unexhumed,” Prem adds, and so the death knell resonates endlessly, like tinnitus. Leave it all out there on the floor, on the stage. Dig deep; don’t look back.

CURLY CASTRO:  The Central Park show was a level up for an Armand Hammer-led show w/ Backwoodz as support. It was our first time meeting and performing with The Alchemist. Unbeknownst to me, my back and spine was riddled with cancerous Tumors. I was in a good amount of pain; I just didn’t let anyone know, not even Prem. Couldn’t phuck up this opportunity for ShrapKnel and the live premiere of my “Phuck Puff” verse on “Wishing Bad.” So, in essence, it was the last show before I broke my hip a few months later and found out just how sick I actually Was.

PREMROCK:  I don’t think woods could believe it was actually happening while it was either. I watched Backwoodz artists go from horrendous sound at a fifty cap room to this? Truly a sight and testament to what can happen when you stick to your guns. Having Alchemist back us onstage and just before sit in the trailer and tell us stories of hip-hop lore probably made our year at the least. A high point of our career followed briskly by the biggest tribulation. A microcosm of life and dedication on several levels. A day and night we will never forget!

Castro has called that Central Park performance “the last moment of ignorance.” PremRock, presciently, also recorded “Bardo” that same weekend. On “LIVE Element,” Castro cuts through the static: “Central Park show while my Cancer was Raging, / Stage 4 on the Stage for Edutainment.” He enta’d the stage to exhibit to the audience how the Blackman’s in Effect. The performance stage and the stage of his cancer replicating like cells. But no Cell Therapy to speak of. He was backed by Alchemist, a stroke of luck “how the Game Spin,” but the Wheel of Fortune spins centrifugal, spins like the minds of children at the carnival listening to the “carousel calliope, among the hills, piping [Chopin’s] ‘Funeral March’ backwards,” to borrow something from Ray Bradbury. “LIVE Element” refrains from becoming a dirge. 

5.22

In December 2001, Ray Bradbury posted his origin story to his website:

During the Labor Day week of 1932 a favorite uncle of mine died; his funeral was held on the Labor Day Saturday. If he hadn’t died that week, my life might not have changed because, returning from his funeral at noon on that Saturday, I saw a carnival tent down by Lake Michigan. I knew that down there, by the lake, in his special tent, was a magician named Mr. Electrico. Mr. Electrico was a fantastic creator of marvels. He sat in his electric chair every night and was electrocuted in front of all the people, young and old, of Waukegan, Illinois. When the electricity surged through his body he raised a sword and knighted all the kids sitting in the front row below his platform. I had been to see Mr. Electrico the night before. When he reached me, he pointed his sword at my head and touched my brow. The electricity rushed down the sword, inside my skull, made my hair stand up and sparks fly out of my ears. He then shouted at me, “Live forever!”

Castro raps forever on “LIVE Element,” leaving behind any pressure or protocol to limit himself to sixteen bars. He raps endlessly, staving off death. He raps like his life depends on it. He “roam[s] Earth” and will “give [his] Old Bones the Last Word.” He raps “Back & Forth” with Prem like “When the Lox work[ed] with Made Men.” The song was “Tommy’s Theme,” another eerie premonition if we consider the role of one Tommy McMahon (Controller 7). “Something this way Comes Wicked,” Castro raps, inverting inversions. Bradbury’s “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” a 1962 dark fantasy novel inspired by his own carnival experience, forebodes a chilling prospect. Not quite as frigid as Castro’s “Cold Vein back-to-back Liquid Swords Winter,” but as grim as hospital corridors and morgue thermostats nonetheless.

Mr. Dark, Bradbury’s sinister carnival barker, feeds off fears and engenders negative energies from his young audience:

Alive! Mr Dark’s lips licked and savoured. Alive. Come alive. He racheted the switch to the last notch. Live, live! Somewhere, dynamos protested, skirled, shrilled, moaned a bestial energy... Dead dead, thought Will. But live alive! cried machines, cried flame and fire, cried mouths of crowds of livid beasts on illustrated flesh.

Microphones and preamps and 4-tracks and DAWs—these are the machines that make civilization fun. Curly Castro and PremRock wield their own spiritual powers. Prem, according to Castro, “lifts crowds,” but together, they can “open [a] portal on stage,” The Prestige style, and “flip crowds.” Some true Aleister Crowley-type Magick (Elemental Theory); pentacles and penwork. The ShrapKnel lyric booklet is a grimoire. They “crack the codex like a soothsayer,” so says Prem.

5.3

“Sometimes we draw dead and draft failure,” Prem admits. They draw dead crowds, that is—lifeless and disinterested. “The math fails ya” sometimes, and the Supreme Mathematics go stupid-simple. But it’s okay when the ticket sales and rating scales don’t add up, because they “don’t need the accolades,” Prem says defiantly, assuredly. What they share is stronger than those metrics. Prem and Castro shared a phone call with billy woods the night before Castro fell and found himself hospitalized—an ill communication.

Facing uncertain futures, PremRock steadied the shaking stage. “When we got the diagnosis,” he raps, “I didn’t know how to pronounce that, / Plus I was already thinking ’bout the bounceback, / And with every bounced track I know no illness can slow the blade of a determined razor.” Note: when “we” got the diagnosis—the fraternal order of MCs; the die-cast duo; Shrap and the Family Rock; i.e., no one suffers alone. Prem helps them stay afloat with the assonantal buoyancy of “pronounce,” “’bout,” “bounceback,” and “bounced track.” Music will get them there (“every bounced track”). 

And thus we get Castro spitting his verse from Armand Hammer’s “Wishing Bad” on the Center Park SummerStage. We hear his prophetic lyric: “Phuck Puff, / Survivor’s remorse should keep him phucked up!” (“Did any line age better than that one?” Prem asked the crowd at Public Records. “My man knew.”) And thus we hear that very audio clip at the conclusion of “LIVE Element,” a song which chronicles. “Phuck Puff” now immortalized on tour t-shirts available at the ShrapKnel merch table. At Public Records, Castro picked up the last line of Prem’s refrain (“3rd Eye glow like Hiero, / Seen it comin’ like 5-0 at the live show”) and made it a call-and-response. At the live show! AT THE LIVE SHOW! Inspired, Castro cut into an impromptu acapella version of his “Wishing Bad” verse, only to call-and-response the “Phuck Puff / Phucked Up” hook, damning those which need to be damned.

6.

Prem mentions “selling enchantment by the package” on “Steel Pan Labyrinth,” but you can’t commodify craft. He’s not a peddler, anyway—he’s a performer. For one of two solo performances, Prem rapped about how his “human form” is a “uniform” (with that lovely autological bent), something he does, or dons, “to belong.” Is his performing self the authentic version, or is his non-performing self the stock character? Is his uniform a “Uni-4-Orm,” like Canibus in ’97, a hired hand meant to “pulverize MCs and blow up mics, / From street corner cyphers to international websites?” Does raw imply honest? (Funny how Prem’s regular employment is bartender, while on stage he’s also a bar-tender.) The blurry boundary between these opposing selves leaves Prem rudderless: “I’ll admit I’m catatonic, / Chart the pattern of vomit, / Sonnet in the style of Vonnegut, postmodernist.” He spews, minimalistically, like so many bar patrons spinning on stools, but discovers purpose in the identifiable “pattern[s]” and emerging “sonnet[s].” Turns dreck to “Protect Ya Neck”-level compositions. And—even impressiver—he pivots political-cum-analogical to bring us back to the idea of selling one’s self and/or selling one’s wares: “You are who you’re in Congress with, / Closeted moderates post black squares / Then act scared of actual progress ’cause it’s profitless.” But lemme chill…

6.1

“Doseone is in the house,” Castro shouted-out between “Human Form” and “Mescalito.” “If you don’t know, get acclimated. And if you don’t know, you’re stupid.”

6.11

NAHreally:  Some shows really feel like an indie rap convention, and this was definitely one of them. Everywhere you turned was someone you knew or knew of—and the steady stream of special guests onstage only added to that feeling. The way the room erupted when woods came out for a few songs was special. The first time I ever saw (and heard of) PremRock and Castro was at a sparsely attended (perhaps more so poorly promoted) Armand Hammer show in 2018 at The Kingsland in Brooklyn. Castro was an opener and Prem jumped up for some tracks throughout the night. If I remember right, the crowd was probably high single digits. Since then, I’ve seen woods and ELUCID headline some packed rooms, but to get to see ShrapKnel fill up Public Records and bring woods up as a guest felt like a full circle moment. Triumph was definitely in the air at this show—something like a victory lap for putting in the work and staying true.

MO NIKLZ:  woods came out in an Adidas Jamaican-colored jacket I gave him as a present. I bartered pickles for that jacket.

woods performed “Babylon by Bus,” “383 Myrtle,” and crowd favorite “Spongebob.” “Babylon by Bus” required some mic manipulation. “Why you give me the feedback mic though?” woods scoffed. Castro sang woods’ praises (“He has created the greatest label on the planet…”), and woods spread the love right back: “Prem booked my first real tour in this country, and Castro’s been down forever. This is just family.” After a “Spongebob” false start (“My babysitter’s getting 40 dollars an hour…we’re doing this!”), woods gave the crowd—in full darkness—what they wanted to hear. What’s apparent is that the whole operation is no longer under water.

billy woods:  I was just proud and happy to see Castro and Prem have that kind of night. They are my colleagues and co-workers, but they are also my good friends, and great human beings, to boot. Also, I love ShrapKnel's records; I put them out because I love those albums, but I really feel like they are better live than on record, which is not something you can say for a lot of acts right now. So, this was also my first time seeing their new live set, and it’s just the kind of thing that makes you say, Yes, this is it right here. So I was happy for my friends, I was proud of whatever role Backwoodz has been able to play in their ascendancy, and I was really soaking in the music.

7.

Fatboi Sharif got onstage in his capacity as King Geedorah in a pink summer hat and open-chest button down, his magnetism throbbing like gravity beams as he splattered words over a schizzing loop.

FATBOI SHARIF:  [The track’s] not even recorded—I just do it at shows. I had DJ Boogaveli loop the first three seconds of Redman’s “Basically” from Dare Iz a Darkside.

CHOP THE HEAD:  Watching Fatboi Sharif dance and sway his way around the show, laughing and turning people up, and then step on stage to deliver wide-eyed haunting intensity in a huge pink church lady hat… He left my house fifteen minutes ago after an hours-long argument with DRIVEBY about the nature of evil, more specifically about whether Charles Manson is more evil than Popeye’s Chicken. 

7.1

By the time SKECH185 stepped onstage, having already witnessed woods and Sharif before him, I felt like I was watching Brian Robbins’ The Show documentary, and Public Records was transformed into a more modest version of the 32nd Street and Lancaster Avenue Armory on December 10, 1994—wormhole shit. SKECH performed “Up To Speed,” a rafter-rattler I’ve seen him rock on several occasions. Did I go hard enough? he asks a multitude of trusted friends and musicians. The answer is never less than a resounding YES. “You did go hard enough for me,” Prem deadpanned.

SKECH185:  I hit [Prem and Castro] up to see if they had booked the bill. I guess they had, but they said they would bring me out for a song. It was my night off, so it was a no-brainer. We all went on tour last year, and I have music with those cats, so it made sense. It was fun. They rocked at my release party last year so it was full circle. I’ve been doing music with Castro going back ten or so years, and Prem and I were co-workers for a time, plus we have music together. Those men are like family.

CHOP THE HEAD:  I’ve never seen anyone rap like SKECH185. Raw conviction. 

“We roll with killahzzzz!” Castro shouted after SKECH put the mic down.

7.11

AJ SUEDE:  We knew about a month or two in advance that I’d be landing in NY (from the UK/EU G’s Us tour) the day before the album release party. I was invited to be a guest and, of course, I couldn’t refuse that. It was great to see everybody I know and meet a couple new people in the process. Since I was in New York, I knew it was only right to play a song from Reoccurring Characters. Everybody featured on the album was in the building. “Tell Me When to van Gogh” always goes crazy in a live setting. The drums!

8.

On “Deep Space 9 Millie Pulled a Pistol” (a title coined by Controller 7, but he must’ve done so while interiorizing a certain ShrapKnel modality, methodology, modus operandi), Prem alludes to not one, but two, El-P classicks: “Deep Space 9mm” and “Last Good Sleep.” He interpolates the latter’s chorus:

At night I cover my ears in tears the man right in front of me drank too many beers. Every dream, every night, I take his life, waiting for my chance to make it right.

Prem’s death-obsessing is externalized elsewhere, onto an [un]worthy subject.

8.1

When El-P performed “Last Good Sleep” at the final Company Flow show (“The Open Casket Show”) on March 28th 2001, he did so through tears. His mother, the subject of the song who was swallowed when she was hollow, stood in the audience. I should’ve been at the Bowery Ballroom that night, bearing witness, but instead I skipped. Maybe because it was a school night and I didn’t have permission; maybe because I was too lazy to buy a ticket; maybe because I was just a fucking dumbass with no sense of historicity. But my friend Omar (the producer The Shah) attended, telling me peace out as he exited his driveway to head to the city while I played ball in the street with his younger brother. I gave him shit for going without me, but the fact is I could’ve gone with him if I’d made the effort. My only consolation was the flyer he brought me back as a memento.

“Worry Doll,” the wobbling, comedown closing track on Nobody Planning to Leave, finds Castro reflecting on the fleeting isolation he felt in college. “Lune TNS warp my anthem on Campus, / While every other dorm blast the Unit with Whoo Kid.” That alienation that invigorates; a specialized sensibility that inspires—John Singleton couldn’t capture that “higher learning turned End to End Burning” to camera. And so it seemed fated that El-P’s face would appear on a tablet, wishing Castro well while he was wheelchair-bound, recovering from his illness. Castro suddenly had the man behind “Bad Touch Example” at his fingertips with touchscreen technology—it was an emotional moment, but also apropos. There was something so psyence fiction about that mode of communication—something so Blade Runner, so 2001: A Space Odyssey, so Deltron 3030, Megaton B-Boy 2000, 5000 Miles West of the Future. It was everything for the man—the MC and producer and godhead of independent rap—to reach out and express his strength and support. Cancer 4 Cure, sure—El had dealt with Camu Tao’s lung carcinoma diagnosis and death, and so too had the underground scene experienced it from the sidelines. The tablet message to Castro essentially said: You should pump this shit like they do in the future.

9.

Before the closing number, Prem told the audience that they “wanted to build a night that you wouldn’t see anywhere else,” and that objective was achieved. Castro and Prem then literally leaned on each other as they performed “Running Rebel Swordplay” to end their hour-long set. 

9.1

Lights went up. The crowd thinned out. I straggled, wall-flowered, wondering, What’s next? I eventually exited the main space and found all those same recognizable faces from the show lined up in the trellised tunnel leading to the street. Controller 7, lugging his box of gear, Curly Castro, and PremRock all emerged from the venue and exited through that corridor. Friends on either side cheered them lovingly. Mo Niklz unfurled a folding table on the sidewalk and displayed a small pyramid of pickle tupperwares. 

9.11

Oh shit, now here’s a cypher…

—Curly Castro, “Sadatay”

As AKAI SOLO and his TASE GRIP contingent exited the tunnel, AKAI—feeling the thrum—began to elucidate all the things that are hip-hop, which is to say, everything. “Brooklyn is…HIP-HOP, the dark sky is…HIP-HOP, my people are…HIP-HOP!...” There was a particular cadence and rhythm to his speech, which could be easily misconstrued as rapping, and that was all Doseone needed to set it off. I’d seen him on the sidewalk, like a predator tracking the bloodscent, his broad shoulders hunched as he dragged on a cigarette. As AKAI and his crew turned curbside, Dose stepped into the street and began freestyling. A circle spontaneously closed around him. I maneuvered with the quickness to the outer perimeter and pressed record on my Dictaphone, positioning myself to Dose’s left.

Doseone, that rough beast slouching toward Butler Street, that clutcher of a thousand skulls, expectorated a string of freestyled words:

I find myself turning science into gutting an entire abdomen of a cheetah, When I work harder, it goes world of words, hearth-beater. I’m out here looking for yourself, Conceiver of entire men out of mud, What he did, what he did with these rappers was duds, and I exploded like a whole lot of love lava.

I could tell from the expressions on faces that only about half the crowd gathered knew who Dose was, and even fewer computed what was unfolding. But those in the know knew what time it was. Dose spit another few bars (“Bleeding possibly with a tourniquet, / I go at it, and I burn ’em once again, / Resurrect ’em and pull up by the sternum and pull they chest out”), and then the beatbox joined in (courtesy of Q No Rap Name, with later contributions from Wavy Bagels). Castro, possessed with the same cypher-sense as Dose, entered the circle and rapped with a hesitant flow:

Do things as we flip ’em, get ’em, Flying over ya head like a gryphon, forgiven,  You can’t even believe me, I made it out the system, The Matrix ain’t got four parts, you better listen.

Castro passed to SKECH185: “Similar to devils, like to hell, breaking heaven down, / It don’t matter, the bread leavens, and everybody moves around.”

[fragments, because transcriptions are no substitute for being there]

Doseone:  “I disappear and then I reappear again wearing your very favoritest rappers’ skins…” AKAI SOLO:  “I’m armed with just bravado and still bend the metal…” Castro: “Let me catch wreck, / Commercial’s ITT Tech…” Doseone: “Rappers need everything and their mothers to hug ’em…” AJ Suede:  “The world keeps spinning on its own time…” Castro:  “We underground, under rap, under earth, under term, / And if you need something, get under, get burnt…” Doseone: “Every bath I take is completely red…” SKECH: “High-tops made out of human skin…”

CHOP THE HEAD:  I watched ShrapKnel body that set, Curly leaving everything on the stage, and then walk up to SKECH outside and say, We rhymin’? SKECH started beatboxing and started up the cypher. When SKECH wanted to rap, my man Q No Rap Name held the beat down for them. He told me later he had no clue Doseone was there until that happened, and he had been a huge fan of his for years. That moment showed me everything I needed to know about those artists. Are we rhyming, or what?

DUNCECAP:  The cypher outside was magical and reminded me why I love hip-hop. Seeing Legends commingling with Future Legends.

Q NO RAP NAME:  That cypher was crazy. Fuckin’ Doseone was there spittin’—I couldn’t believe it. 

SKECH185:  It was cool but relatively uneventful as cyphers go. I was mad my voice was going out. Doseone is one of my heroes, so it was cool to freestyle with him. Castro and I usually freestyle together when we are in the same place. It reminded me that freestyle cyphers rarely happen nowadays (as you could tell by the lack of beatboxers), but it was refreshing and much needed. Dose talked to me about starting a cypher earlier in the evening.

DOSEONE:  I truly feel perfectly lucked to have experienced a creative competitive healthy hardcore group of people who push themselves to make outstanding rap as art!

9.111

I [re-]introduced myself to Dose, having not spoken to him since our marathon phone calls a few years ago for the aforementioned Anticon book. This was my first time seeing him in-person in 22 years. I last saw him in Tribeca at the Knitting Factory in 2002 performing alongside Jel and Alias—a night I documented as well (on 8mm video). He thanked me and expressed his appreciation for the work I’ve been doing, which felt good, especially considering I don’t think he really has any concept of how exhaustive the Anticon book is going to be. To be speaking to him at a Backwoodz event, rhyming beside artists that have rekindled my interest and engendered this indie rap renaissance, was yet another symbol of convergence. He told me had been at Dove’s the day before with Tommy, Scott Matelic, and Fatboi Sharif. Sharif, I said, was a seeker. (He knew.) Moments later, I saw woods and Dose huddled together in hushed conversation. Someone put out the call for a group photograph, and everybody gathered in the middle of Butler Street for a Gordon Parks “Great Day”-style flick. “FREE PALESTINE on three,” AKAI shouted. One, two, three…

9.2

“Just peep the words of my agnostic prayer,” Open Mike Eagle raps on “Dadaism 3.” Every word I write isn’t 25-to-life, but if all goes well, each paragraph will be received as an agnostic prayer. On his most recent solo effort, Another Triumph of Ghetto Engineering (2023), OME told the world, “We got people though.” Two tracks—“We Should Have Made Otherground a Thing” and “Dave Said These Are the Liner Notes”—speak to the power of our scenes and communities, which, truly, is a single unified community. (It’s an acknowledgement that Slug made in songform in 2000 with Atmosphere’s dewy-eyed “Travel,” a B-side on the Ford Two 12-inch—like OME, Slug was “calling all heads of the Earth.”) The underground—or otherground—has been building (steam with a grain of salt) for approximately thirty years. Back when many of us started in this in the late 90s and early aughts, we had no elders (I spoke to NAHreally about this while posted up in Public Rex). We were just a room full, or message board full, of teenagers and heads in their early twenties. We didn’t know shit. Aceyalone might’ve called us Knownots. But now we’ve got representation across generations—we have mentors from the pre-millennium, youngbloods learning the way of the subterranean walk, and whoever else falls between.

Spirit. Convergence.

10.

MO NIKLZ:  After the show, a group of about twenty of us started heading out to another bar. Controller 7 asked me, “Is this normal?” I said, “It depends on the group and performer, but with PremRock, it’s very common, yes.” We ended up closing out the next bar we went to. Doseone had the nicest conversation with me saying, “Keep up the good work and especially all the shipping for Fake Four—it’s so important for the kids,” which I hadn’t even really thought about in a long time. I told him how happy I was to meet him and how there’s such a short list of people I’d actually want to meet, and he did not disappoint. He agreed saying, “Yeah, don’t meet your heroes.”

10.1

We were at the Brooklyn Inn. I ended my night like I began it—in conversation with Controller 7, Scott Matelic, and Emynd. Tommy was clearly elated with how things had gone. He awkwardly gripped vinyl to his chest as he sipped his beer and smiled ear to ear. Castro hopped in a car after the cypher, but Prem, the eternal nighthawk, reveled in his post-show glow, holding barside conversations with peers aplenty. Dose, too, was making the rounds, affable as he is, and he eventually joined our conversation. Ever the hip-hop historian, he entertained us with an invented—though no doubt veracious—account of one Parrish Smith arriving at Power Play Studios for the Business As Usual sessions in 1990, only to describe the premise of “Mr. Bozack” to one Erick Sermon. “And you’re going to play the part of my dick!”

11. CODA

The next night, I was privileged to see ShrapKnel perform in North Jersey. Soldato Books in Rutherford sells both books and records, but it’s housed in the Williams Center, which functions as an arts center and movie theater as well—and just steps from the former residence of William Carlos Williams. The Jersey tour stop was more sparsely attended (I counted about 25 heads, many of which were family, friends, and fellow performers) and suffered from some pretty significant technical difficulties. The soundsystem was little more than a PA, and the acoustics left much to be desired, especially in the shadow of what we all experienced just 24 hours prior at Pub Rex. The performance space was essentially a mezzanine with couches and balcony access. Roper Williams and Sharif were posted up outside, hopefully brainstorming and mindfucking the basis for their Something About Shirley follow-up. NAHreally endeared the crowd with his didactic raps, a consummate performer with a comedian’s sense of timing and poise. He passed out bookmarks advertising his album with The Expert, BLIP. (I took two.)  DRIVEBY went to work for a short but potent beat set. OneShotOnce got on the mic and ripped. Sharif went shirtless for a raucous rendition of “Fly Pelican,” his vocals lovingly distorted. The only performer who was lucky enough to evade sound trouble was L.I.F.E. Long. The performance of his “Battle for Asgard” verse nearly split the atom. 

PREMROCK:  L.I.F.E. Long is a person that truly embodies hip-hop. He is also a beacon of positivity who seemingly never ages! I vividly remember him watching me at an open mic in Bed-Stuy in ’08. I would scour the web for any opportunities that looked like I could get up there to get my reps in. This one was definitely on the lower rung of quality, but I showed out for sure. It was shortly after my song or two that L.I.F.E. walked up to me and said, “You killed it! You’re too nice to be at this one—you should come to mine,” and handed me a flyer for a Newark mic he ran every Saturday. I looked at the flyer and realized who he was. Can Ox!? Stronghold!? I was very aware and it really energized me, and I didn’t miss any of those shows for a while. We went on to do a few things together and become fast friends. I would say his advice and belief in me was a big factor in my development. Time and life (no pun) has a way of losing touch, but I’ll always give props and try to let him know his importance. I hope I am to others what he was for me. There’s importance in paying things forward. Nobody is going to look out for us if we don’t. To quote Onyx, ALL WE GOT IZ US!

phiik and Lungs negotiated the microphone feedback through their set as best they could, but it made me long for the chorus of TASE GRIP voices that were present to support them the night before. Prem and Castro seemed demoralized when they took the stage, which wasn’t a stage. They, like phiik and Lungs before them, chose to perform from behind a makeshift bar on the mezzanine. The bar top served as merch table during the performances, and Castro began by leaning forward and asking the audience, “What can I do for you?” He later went hat-backwards and stood precariously on a folding chair for “LIVE Element.” He left his arm frozen in the air at the end of his verse—a rapper in the Rodin exhibit—holding it there until Prem spit his line about the “bounceback.” They weren’t demoralized, I realized—they were just performing in a more suitable register to the space.

PREMROCK:  We are from the open mic era. Ten MCs, one mic, fighting for space to be heard. Imperfect sound is nothing when we think of what we’ve dealt with in the past, and we’re also blessed with good voices that can cut through the bullshit. Hiccups are always going to occur—shit soundperson, unexpected detour, less than ideal sleeping conditions, etc. Malleability is extremely important. To aspiring touring artists: there ain’t no glory out there, but there is truth! And the truth shall set you free!

12.  THE CHOIR OF ANGELS BOARD THE SECOND AVENUE BUS TO BABYLON

phiik:  Shout out to jesse The Tree. Was intro’d to him by Prem & Castro, and we just hit it off with him immediately. One of the funniest dudes. We had gotten this weed syrup from the Cookies store in Massachusetts, and it just had all of us rolling. But especially Castro, man—he was at the point of tears because of Jesse + the syrup combo. Mind you too, Prem said it was the highest he’s ever seen Castro, and they’ve been kickin’ it for a while. That experience definitely bonded us all right then & there. Can’t wait to get back on the road with everybody again soon.

AUGUST FANON:  [It] was like a family reunion of sorts. All the performers have worked together and the listening community that came out to the show felt like they come to all the shows. I’m just getting to NYC and this was my third show as August Fanon, so it’s all new and beautiful to me.

WAVY BAGELS:  The ShrapKnel show was magnetic. They ripped the stage as well as everyone that got on. Controller 7 wowed the crowd with his beat set, August Fanon and Child Actor kept the heads nodding with their B2B set, and Lungs & phiik looked comfortable being back home after being on the road. It was also great to run into so many familiar faces and those I finally got to meet in person (Marcus Pinn, AJ Suede, Fanon). Overall an event to remember.

HEIGHT KEECH:  This show was inspiring to me as an NYC transplant that’s trying to get my head around the live music landscape. When I saw the Brooklyn stop on Shrapknel’s tour the year before, the crowd was a little light and I thought that their spirits seemed to be a little bit down. It was quite an exciting contrast to see them receiving a massive hero’s welcome like this. Towards the end of their set, I took out my phone to snap a quick picture, only to realize I had been pocket-dialing ten different people since I walked in. I got a few texts like, “Come on, Height,” but Lord Grunge of Grand Buffet had stayed on the line to peep my pocket-dial (while at his job as a Pittsburgh paramedic) and checked the rhymes. He responded with, “New York Flows? Fire.”

STEEL TIPPED DOVE:  The buzz is building. I had the pleasure of fully mixing the new ShrapKnel album. Controller 7 sent beat stems and the guys came to my studio to record it all, so I was recording engineer too. I think it’s amazing how packed the show was and who was in attendance too—lots of indie rap legends, for real. People literally traveled from across the country and one guy from Europe. And the album itself is so good. I think that’s proven by the continuing growth of the group.

E. FORTSON:  I had a brief conversation with Nosaj at the bar in between sets. At one point, he looked around the room and said, “We built this community.” After the show, when I had a moment to reflect on the night, I realized that the heartbeat of this community is Fatboi Sharif. He’s connected to so many people in this beautiful collective that Nosaj described, and I don’t think that’s a happy accident. He’s deeply invested in this community, in this culture, and people can feel that energy. Seriously, he’s the best hype man out there, and the support he shows his peers, particularly at live events, is incredibly genuine. I don’t know who I watched more at the ShrapKnel release party: the MCS and producers onstage or Fatboi Sharif. If he wasn’t dancing or shouting a “WOOOO!”, he was rapping along to every song. It made the show that much more special for me, and I’m sure that was the case for everyone in that room.

FATBOI SHARIF:  It was certainly the feeling and energy that you hope and pray for when you come to a hip-hop show—from the beat sets, to the special guests, to the outside freestyle cypher after the show. I hadn’t experienced all that at one show in some years.

NOAH ANTHONY MEZZACAPPA:  Castro and PremRock are great showmen and MCs and clearly put a lot of effort not only into their own performances but into the whole bill. Seeing guys like August Fanon, Child Actor, and Controller 7 and knowing it was a line-up unique to that show was really cool. Like Prem said, he wanted to give the fans something they wouldn’t get anywhere else.

Q NO RAP NAME:  ShrapKnel is one of one. Their chemistry is unmatched, and it works for them in real life and on record. I had never seen SKECH185 live before—that was mind-blowing. It was very ill to meet some of these folks who I only ever usually hear on record and learn that they are solid individuals in real life. The underground is like that, and I love it.

DUNCECAP:  That night felt like a family reunion. It felt like a couple different facets of the same diamond coming together. It was really special. Lots of love and respect in that room.

NOSAJ:

THE POWER OF SYNERGY

MASTER SPECIALIST

SOUNDTRACK FOR THE MOVIE TAKING PLACE IN THE ROOM THAT EVENING 

A STEP FORWARD FOR THE GENRE

PRIDE

CHOP THE HEAD:  The show felt like all the heads coming together to celebrate each other, and all these rappers that we recognize are pushing themselves and musical boundaries forward and really getting their due in a proper venue. I’ve seen Armand Hammer in big rooms before, but that bill was 100% killers—everybody knew everybody. The sound was perfect. The speakers were big as fuck. ShrapKnel absolutely burnt it down. As a duo they play off each other so well, and this was mid-tour so their set felt effortless and intense. Curly Castro is a tremendously gifted rapper. In his own terms, he is a master bladesmith and swordsman. 

MO NIKLZ:  The whole event was definitely something of an NYC indie rap family reunion/networking spot in a lot of ways and hasn’t really existed since Uncommon Nasa and woods stopped doing Yule Prog.

billy woods:  It was dope to see all those different energies being exchanged in one place. That sense of community and camaraderie was palpable. There were a lot of great artists in the audience, or jumping on stage to play supporting roles for ShrapKnel and phiik & Lungs, but there was also an August Fanon + Child Actor beat set!!!

DOSEONE:  That evening, it meant a lot to me. Most importantly, witnessing underground rap thriving and reforming in the hands of the Backwoodz humans—it’s endlessly important to me. Seeing impeccably written and produced and rapped rap be received entirely and adored is a beautiful thing. Every rapper and producer up there gave perfectly unique artistry in rap form as dictated by their individuality and creativity—FUK YES to that. That competitive collaborative creative energy they are harnessing is so similar yet different to what burned behind anticon as it first formed. And I am really lucky to have experienced that twice in one life.

CONTROLLER 7:  It kinda feels like the people that were there maybe just enjoyed it and it was what it was, nobody really reposted for clout or anything, it was just something we all shared that night.

13.

So, nah: I’m not a spiritual person, but I can be inspired—inspired by the expansion of the underground hip-hop canon and rap pantheon. Bigg Jus’s voice reverberates: A hot wire, like the third rail, is live. I can, and did, thrum with the collective breath of those present on these two nights in June. Forevermore, I’ll expect more from june. No death in June. Life is real, word to the Mighty Mos and Roy Ayers Ubiquity. My life, my life, my life, my life. Reporting live for you suckers.

ShrapKnel setlist at Public Records

“Metallo” “Dadaism 3” “Steel Pan Labyrinth” “LIVE Element” “Human Form” “Mescalito” “Babylon by Bus” (billy woods) “383 Myrtle” (billy woods) “Spongebob” (billy woods) “Bogdan Interlude” “[untitled]” (Fatboi Sharif) “Bardo” “Illusions of P” “Up To Speed” (SKECH185) “Dreadlocs Falling” “Tell Me When to van Gogh” (AJ Suede) “Deep Space 9 Millie Pulled a Pistol” “Night of the Living Analogue” “Running Rebel Swordplay”

Performance photos from Public Records courtesy of E. Fortson

[catchyhuh]

WHO WOULD BE BEST TO GO ON A 6 HOUR CAR TRIP WITH!!

THE ANSWER? IT’S COMPLICATED! car trips are such a delicate science that when i did this ranking in my head it fell apart almost immediately so instead i will present the information and YOU, yes YOU get to decide who you’d be able to put up with and who you’d murder before you even reached the highway

suggested reading for you: unbearable habits. keep this in mind as you go and venture safely 

lupin:

well. it wouldn’t be boring at least. he can make conversation out of almost anything. you pass a weird tree and ten minutes later he’s going on about how one time he had to learn about some tree info to get this rare sap thing (fujiko said she heard it tasted yummy-- it didn’t btw it sucked but he just had to see y’know) and he found out that there’s like thirty types of maple trees, one of which is actually invasive in north america, which is weird because it feels like north america is the area that’s the BIGGEST on tree tapping so why would it be a problem if they had so many norway maples-- hey are you listening to m

actually not that bothered if he’s not the one driving. might poke at you about things like “obeying the speed limit” and such but he’s perfectly content to kick back. uh oh, did that lull you into a false sense of security? don’t sigh in relief yet, you have mr. passenger princess as your copilot. fucks with the radio, the ac, constantly adjusting his seat, messing with windows, all to HIS comfort level. after all, you’re only the person driving.

insists on stopping at a convenience store. if you try some fast food drivethru bullshit he’s gonna be like “what schedule are we on! why are you in such a rush? fucking-- live a little, man. there’s a sheetz here”

jumping off that last bit the payment method AT the store will change entirely depending on what type of comment you make to him beforehand. if you say “in what world is it worth it to steal a 5 dollar slushie” he’s stealing. if you say “in what world is a slushy worth 5 fucking dollars” he will be paying in full with his own money. guarantee

jigen:

reclines his seat WAY far back. like crushing the person behind him’s legs, far back. like, would probably be a safety hazard even if he was in the car by HIMSELF far back. the reason airplanes have a locking mechanism to stop you from turning the seat into a twin bed far back.

not a horrible conversationalist but it will entirely rely on how much he “likes” (read: is kinda okay with) you and his mood. he won’t push you to talk, but if you want to talk and he DOESN’T, you are getting the driest answers. however if you are anything like me and only need minimal engagement to take as a sign to keep talking endlessly, he will whittle down to the point where he starts TALK talking to you a bit more.

can easily keep himself occupied regardless of mood. just grabs a crossword or some shit. miraculously doesn’t get a headache, but if you even make one remark about the fact that reading in the car gives people headaches, he’ll INSTANTLY remind you nothing could make his head hurt more than his current company. even if he doesn’t mind your company! it’s a reflex.

if you don’t let him drive he’s going to be a bitch. i promise. if you don’t let him drive he will grumble about every little thing so you know what. just make peace with it and hand over the wheel. pop it off the little stick thing and hand it right over to ol’ smoky. at the very least he’ll shave off a half hour from the ETA, somehow. it’s jarring because he doesn’t actually seem to be going faster but surprise! we’ve reached our destination.

goemon:

well. if you were stressing over lupin never shutting up i have good news for you. it doesn’t matter who his company is, he’s just consistently a man of very few words, unless you get him off on some specific thing he’s passionate about (which is very, very niche, and will be harder to trigger than you’d anticipate), but hey, he’s okay with that. unfortunately if silence is torture for you i have equally bad news,

honestly cannot understate how likely it is you’ll forget he’s in the back if you’re both silent for more than a mile stretch of road. he doesn’t shift around a lot. when you first get in he might take about 5 or so minutes to really get comfy but he prefers the back seat. every time goemon has had a choice, he goes right for the back. more legroom. so, yeah, very easy to forget he’s present

going to act like he can keep himself entertained just tuning out his surroundings and meditating but that’s just. not true. he’s going to last an impressive amount of time, maybe three and a half hours? but he is ultimately human and when you have to make that first gas station stop the gross ass smell of gasoline is going to knock him RIGHT out of it. 

really the only way you’re pulling any significant interaction out of this is if someone ELSE is manning the car and you can either turn completely around to interact with him or if you’re both sitting side by side. mostly the latter, as he’ll be less tempted to kind of emotionally shut you out if you’re right beside each other. just don’t expect him to move to give you much more space to yourself lmao

fujiko:

unique problem where you might EXPECT her to be somewhat talkative (like a reasonable amount) but no. she’s not talking to you. she’s not even ignoring you with headphones or anything she’s just content in her own world. unless of course you made one comment that just barely slightly annoyed her, in which case she pulls out the biggest, shiniest, most obnoxious headphones and tunes you out entirely. tread carefully

if you get hungry you’re eating at a SIT DOWN DINE-IN MEAL. NO fast food NO convenience store and ESPECIALLY no 3 dollar mini dorito bags, not on miss mine’s watch. don’t even fucking pretend it’s an option. but of course, this adds like an hour to your drive time, so… half and half. you Will be dining and dashing

probably has some kind of car trip kit. firstly, the fact she’s actually taking a CAR trip must mean you need to be afraid of something, because that’s gotta be her last resort. she could fly, take a train, fucking fly a helicopter herself, fly ANYTHING herself she’s UNSTOPPABLE and she wants to kick her feet on the dash for a fourth of a very valuable day?? but beyond that. has a nice pillow (NOT a neck pillow. hurts her neck. just a real full pillow. she doesn’t nap anyway idk why she’s got that) some kinda heating thingy to keep her back from getting sore in that uncomfy seat, large cup with a delicious bev of choice, just anything you could imagine being convenient. oh my god remember the tiddy bear? google tiddy bear. she’s got one of those

very creative when it comes to filling up time without getting VERY silly. now, make no mistake, if you’re both exhausted enough multiple hours in, she MIGHT be ok playing some car color counting game (especially if the winner gets 20 bucks) but usually she’s gonna just come up with some shit like “everytime you complain about x i’m going to cut this blank check into confetti and when the ride is over i’m dumping it on you.” isn’t she such a catch!

zenigata:

well. it definitely won’t be the same moment to moment. either you’re about to be miserable for multiple hours or somehow accidentally unlock the most bizarre yet interesting information about him. no inbetween. maybe even both!

probably the only one who has even a tiny chance of falling asleep, and even then that’s gotta be a hiiiighly specific setup. most possible if you just shut up for long enough and then he’ll kinda doze, but don’t bring UP the fact that you’re trying to get him to chill the fuck out and nap for a bit, don’t even joke about it, because then if you try to employ the long period of silence he’ll just go “... wait a minute I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING” and it’ll be a whole thing

the most adamant about getting the damn thing over with. he’s not going to be a BITCH about it per se, but he IS going to be like “no no not that gas station look at that line. if we just wait till the next one it’ll save us like 15 minutes” and you look at the gas mileage and go “uh” and he goes “no we can make it. trust me.” and cut to 30 minutes later you’re both trying to push the truck to the closest pump which is STILL a good 700 feet away. save time my ass. because of this insistence he will be the one that takes the LONGEST to get from point a to point b, just because he WANTS to be the fastest and god is cruel

goes through like fifty highs and lows throughout unrelated to anything. traffic, the weather, fuck man the ac could be busted, and he’ll be fine, but then 20 minutes later he’s snippy about EVERYTHING. you are microdosing having him as a roommate. stay sane to the best of your ability because god knows he won’t

they ALL get bitchy about music, god help you if you try to fuck with the music

[strangesmallbard]

something i’m observing in knight of the seven kingdoms is how people are drawn to dunk. after just one conversation, they seem to trust him implicitly and rely on him to uphold ideals of justice and honor. for example: egg, baelor breakspear, the fossoway squire raised to be a knight, eustace osgey. (i say men and not “people” bc the only woman given any page time so far is tanselle; her service worker/customer relationship with dunk + lower position in the hierarchy at the tournament + Westerosi Misogyny very likely informs their interactions. i’m about to meet rohanne and may update with my thoughts afterward.)

it would be wrong to say that dunk is wholly good. this is asoiaf; both grrm’s heroes and villains typically have complex moral values. rather, dunk 1) tries to be good and 2) believes it’s possible to be good in a world that rewards power and violence over anything else. he also maintains these convictions when “common sense” says otherwise and/or his bodily safety is at risk—i.e. kicking a targaryen prince in the mouth. men who want to be good and recognize how fucked westerosi society is are drawn to dunk like moths to a flame. these men also believe they’re shrewder than dunk; their convictions clash with their notion of “common sense.”

as a result, they revere him as a perfect expression of knighthood ideals and feel inspired to fight for honor again. this is why egg gets dunk when aerion hurts tanselle and, i believe, why baelor breakspear eventually fights by his side. (dunk is obviously not perfect; he has his own character arc to go through. he’s pretty uncomfortable with this reverence and feels a lot of misplaced guilt over his actions—an common ironic trait for heroes that fits really well in this narrative.) baelor is especially interesting in this context. right before he dies, he accepts dunk into his service and professes him as the type of man westeros needs. although we don’t have his pov, we can surmise his disillusionment with both his family and the feudal system overall.

as the dunk & egg stories deal with the aftermath of the blackfyre rebellions, i think we can also surmise that baelor’s disillusionment comes from winning the battle against “the pretender,” only to find the targs lacking honor, valor, kindness. perhaps dunk’s immediate willingness to risk everything to protect just one person inspires him to action once again, to a tragic end. (really good writing moment for grrm tbh, it’s going to be one of those asoiaf scenes that sticks with me.)

all in all, i really like dunk’s contribution to asoiaf’s internal questions about Being a Good Person. is staying honorable possible? does it even matter to believe in justice and honor when the world is unjust and dishonorable? how do i stay true to my convictions when i also want to stay alive and protect my loved ones? many characters encounter these questions—brienne & jaime are the most salient examples of Dunk Vibes from the og series, but there’s also dany, sam tarly, sansa, arya, ned, tyrion, sandor clegane, lady stoneheart, etc. dunk & egg also allows grrm to really lay into the monarchy and get into pacifism. anyway, i’m excited to see how these themes further develop in the rest of the dunk & egg stories and twow/ados (obligatory 😵‍💫 disclaimer.)

[gorillawithautism]

saw someone say "he's not some uneducated, brainwashed..." (i don't know the rest of the sentence because that is where i stopped reading 🫶)

this was said in regards to a celebrity being zionist, implying that he should know better and that he's not innocent. i agree that he should know better but

as someone who has been through thought reform abuse (ie brainwashing) in the troubled teen industry i would like to clarify a few things

first and foremost, zionism is brainwashing. it is brainwashing to a political end which is something that happens all the time. there should be no argument about the fact that many if not all zionists are brainwashed. unfortunately, brainwashed people can also cause very real harm.

being brainwashed does not mean that you are innocent. i am still hurt by many of the things my peers did to me even though they too were brainwashed. and i still regret many of the things i did to my peers due to my own brainwashing. and i mean, zionists are actively killing people. i never did anything like that. we just like,, emotionally damaged each other under the pretense of our collective abuse. the genocide we are witnessing are even more reason that zionists are not innocent and never, ever fucking will be.

third, i resent the original post pairing "brainwashed" with "uneducated." that isn't really a fair connection to draw. we all know that by "uneducated" they mean "stupid" (which already isn't really fair because a lack of education does not mean a lack of intelligence but that's a whole other conversation). they mean "you won't get brainwashed if you know enough." and i mean first of all as someone who has been brainwashed i find that kind of hurtful to me specifically but you are still liable to be brainwashed even if you know things. with zionist brainwashing it's a little easier to break through it with Facts and Knowledge because their propaganda is so easily disproven HOWEVER the "facts" they push aren't their only tactic.

brainwashing is a lot about reteaching. it's like taking a baby and teaching them about the world except the world you're teaching them about is the one you want them to see, not the one that's actually there. i was thirteen and incredibly emotionally vulnerable when i was put into my tti facility and i stayed there for two and a half years (2y 5mo 1day to be exact). i then stayed brainwashed probably for another two? hard to pinpoint because breaking out of it is a process. they relied on the fact that new "students" didn't know the rules of the new environment they'd just been plopped into. they got to make up all the rules and say "that's just how it is here." and as you stay in the environment, the logic of the environment becomes your new MO. the rules that didn't make sense on your first day start to have rational explanations behind them in your head. not because you're stupid or crazy but because you've been taught to follow the logic of the environment.

with zionism, they play on fear and racism. they amplify the fear of going through another holocaust to convince people that jews need a "homeland" (and by "homeland" they mean jewish supremacist ethnostate). they use the racism to "justify" pushing the indigenous palestinians out of palestine. it follows a logic. it's an immoral and twisted logic, but it's important to recognize that for zionists it is a logic nonetheless. "we need a homeland -> this is our homeland -> it can't be our homeland if the palestinians have rightful claim -> palestinians must be exterminated" (for some, you can replace "palestinians must be exterminated" with "palestinians don't exist." doesn't matter, it's the same goal slightly different thought process).

brainwashing is also reinforced by punishment. by being punished when you dissent as well as seeing others be punished for dissenting. at my tti facility this came in the form of manual labor or "therapeutic" assignments or isolation. the manual labor was probably the most common as you could be assigned half an hour of work for the most minor infractions and you could also rack up a fuck ton of those before the scheduled opportunity to work one off. so they built up. doing that work as well as witnessing others do that work in return for the smallest mistake was a daily occurrence. the consequences for being a "problem" and the goal of "graduating" the program were the two biggest incentives for being "successful." the zionist entity enforces their brainwashing with two threats: that of punishment and that of fear. "if you leave israel you will be hunted down and killed for being a jew." this is fear. a reason to stay and continue being brainwashed and aiding the occupation. "if you don't join the idf you get jailed." or when israeli police went into an antizionist jewish neighborhood and attacked people? yeah that's punishment for dissenting. clear as day.

i wrote this post because ngl it offended me to have brainwashing paired with inherent stupidity, but also because the post i saw was implying that a zionist wasn't brainwashed. an implication which is almost certainly not factual and definitely portrays the reality of brainwashing incorrectly. brainwashing isn't someone snaps their fingers and now you think different. it's not being tricked. it's not mind control (at least not like you see in tv shows and movies). it's a manipulation tactic. it's reteaching. it's convincing. and it will suck you in if it can.

finally, i would like to reiterate that being brainwashed does not make a zionist innocent. the death should be more than enough to make them question themselves, and questioning it is the first step to breaking away from it completely. they are actively participating in a genocide, and nothing will make them innocent of that. that said, it's important not to dismiss the brainwashing. understand it. know it inside and out. knowing what it looks like and how it operates is what will keep you from being brainwashed and what will break down the brainwashing of others. knowing it will dismantle it.

[runawaymarbles]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @chubsthehamster- thanks!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

32, unless you count the book covers. I've got 106 book covers

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

487,170

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Whatever I get stuck on at any given moment. My most recent ones are 9-1-1, Inception, ATS and Hawkeye, but my repeat fandoms are Spn, X-Men, The Old Guard and Black Sails.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm copying chubs and doing my personal favorites, because my top four kudos'd fic are all for the same fandom (The Old Guard) and written within like three weeks of each other.

The Scroll of Saint Barnabas (9-1-1, Buddie, 15k): recency bias, but I had a lot of fun with this one. I also probably drove my girlfriend*and cousin insane during the writing process. Sorry about that. The basic premise is: we all know how time loop fics go, but what if after the loop is broken the character has PTSD from all the things that nobody else remembers? And also what if you get a knotted dildo hooked onto your permanent retainer? *though we've now established consent and parameters for whether we can have sex if one of us is stuck in a time loop. It's always important to have these conversations in advance!!!

What The Moon Was Saying (Spn, destiel, 16k.) It's about Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty, technically, but it's also about Dean working through things he refuses to think about directly, and it's also about the perspective of dead characters who aren't all-knowing and have no clue what happened after they died, and it's also about Inanna's Descent into the Underworld and how many jokes about Sumerian mythology I could fit in there that probably nobody else is going to think are funny but I think are funny, and it's also about what issues Orpheus would have had if he'd succeeded. The central thesis statement is that Margaritaville is thee Dean Winchester Mental State song.

The Mixtape, Or: Six Things You Learn in Thursday School (Spn, destiel, 6k.) I always had this idea that I was going to write a fantasy book of some kind, where the first part would be about the founding of a religion and then the following parts would jump ahead a few hundred years and see how that religion and that original story change in the telling. Instead of writing that book I wrote 6,000 words about a post-apocalyptic religion whose foundational text was the Winchester Gospels, except they don't actually have the Winchester Gospels, so they're relying on collected ephemera and thirdhand accounts. It is also about both academic and online discourse.

The House on Graymalkin Lane (X-Men, background cherik, 92k.) My nice little outsider-POV x-men haunted house fic. It started out as "the x-mansion would be a bonkers haunted house" and then it turned into a love letter to the original timeline (we barely knew ye). It's about the mortifying ordeal of being in high school and also about how all my grandparents died at once and I had a lot of complicated feelings about that.

The Ill-Made Knight (X-Men, cherik, 1.5k) OK so you know that trope that's like "if anyone is going to kill me I want it to be you"?? it's that, but instead of being used as a statement of everlasting love and devotion, it's being used as psychological warfare. And also kind of a statement of everlasting love. But in a fucked up sort of way. Because Cherik.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I didn't used to but I do now because I always like it when people reply to mine. Sometimes I miss them and respond years later but like... I got there eventually?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the whole estate of mortal man. (Black Sails, silverflint, 40k.) Silver is immortal but has a very impermanent self. Flint is mortal and has a very permanent self. There was only one way that was ever going to end and I stand by it.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Of recent ones, I guess The Most Fun A Girl Can Have? (Kate/Yelena, 8k.) They're having a pretty good time for most of it.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Not since like, high school.

9. Do you write smut?

Nope. Hats off to smut writers, you're doing God's work. It's very difficult.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't, unless you count every Marvel fic being a crossover. And Good Omens show/book. But that seems like a cop-out.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Some very kind people translated The Punishment of Sisyphus (Black Sails crackfic) and Antebellum (Black Sails, Anne & Eleanor fic) into Russian, Stalefish (Old Guard, Nile-centric) into Polish, and Kidnapping for Dummies (Old Guard, Joe shenanigans) into Spanish. I can only read the Spanish one.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yessss. The #ImmortalHusbands Conspiracy (The Old Guard social media fic) with @phoenix-acid. That was very fun.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Why would you ask me this. This is cruel. I can barely pick a top 5.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

The Marvel pirate AU, probably. It's almost a complete story on its own as it stands. There's about half a next chapter written and I could probably us that to tie things up, if I cut out a bunch of things, but I'd have to reread all my research. I did way too much research for that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Character voices? I hope it's character voices. I watch a lot of youtube compilations before writing anyone to try and get a handle on how they talk.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The actual romance part of a romance. What do you mean they have to get together after I've set everything up so that they get together? Ridiculous.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've never done it before, but I respect people who can pull it off. I do really hate that trope though where a multilingual character calls their love interest pet names in their mother-tongue, when they are never shown using it that way (or mixing that language and English in a conversation) in canon.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

....percy jackson and the olympians.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Since I listed five favorites up there I'm switching this with the kudos question. Fic with the most kudos is Kidnapping for Dummies (The Old Guard, 3.5k)

Tagging @monstrous-femme @thegeminisage @bomberqueen17 @ellelans @annerbhp @significanceofmoths and anyone else who wants to do it. say i tagged you. nobody will ever check to find out.

[hikarry]

You know that old saying about "breaking the family curse"? It always sounded so fucking dramatic to me. But real life is dramatic as fuck, innit? For my family, there are many "curses," things less visible — a shit load of undiagnosed mental health issues that silently influenced every part of our lives for fucking generations but that everyone insisted in ignoring.

Growing up, I always sensed there was something different about how my mother handled stress, emotions, and relationships, for example. It was like walking through a fog that we could never quite see through. Conversations were avoided, and emotions were bottled up. There were very few moments where we, as a family, spoke about our feelings. I saw the patterns repeating in my parents, my grandparents, and even in myself. It wasn't until I reached a breaking point that I realized something had to change.

I've been diagnosed with depression and anxiety - and so has my grandmother, but im the first getting diagnosed with adhd. Getting my diagnosis was like finding one of the missing pieces of a puzzle that had been scattered across generations. There is more. I know there is more. I am the culmination of generations of struggles people insisted on ignoring and that I'm working so hard to bring to light. It isn't easy— there is a lot of reaching out to my psychiatrist because my meds aren't working, and a lot of medication changes that drive me insane. I'm so tired of changes and nothing sticking. I'm losing hope on ever fixing this. Of ever having a functional brain like I had once for a week when a med by miracle made me into a normal functional adult and then lost its effect. Being back to shit after that week has been hell. But, at the very least, finally having a name for what I was experiencing, some things started to make sense.

The journey won't end with the diagnosis. In many ways, it is just the beginning. I still have therapy, i still have a lot to learn, but, even if I try to talk openly with my family about my struggles and try to explain it, they still don't understand it. They have told me in my face that they don't know what to do with me anymore, and is there a way to make someone feel like trash worse than that? I dont know what to do with myself either. I just needed someone who sat with me and cared. And listened. And tried to understand.

Breaking part of the family curse doesn’t mean everything is perfect now. There are a lot of hard days and ongoing challenges. I still haven't found the right medication and I'm in the middle of finals season. I can't study. My brain just goes blank. If I look at the laptop it's like I'm seeing Chinese. And no one gets that. No one gets how frustrating that is. I don't want to be there one more year. I want to finish my degree and be done with it, but I can't mentally study. My brain literally doesn't want me to. Does let me. It fights me, and it's so so infuriating. At the very least, it's a step towards healing, and as i dont want children, it ends with me. Or if one of my brother's children is diagnosed, they know they can rely on me.

If you’re reading this and feeling like you’re stuck in a cycle you can’t break, know that you’re not alone. All of this is a step towards understanding yourself and breaking free from patterns that have held you back. It will take time, but one can hope.

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 26

Today's theme is Mask.

And, inspired by a recent conversation I had with some friends about Wally, I thought I'd do this about Wally.

===========================================

People tended to overlook Wally. He was just the janitor, after all. Not really anyone worth paying attention to. They hardly noticed him coming into their offices to empty the trash or him sweeping in the background while they held meetings. When he wasn't talking, he was invisible to his coworkers, practically a ghost.

And that was exactly how Wally liked it.

See, it was safer to be overlooked, especially in a place like Joey Drew Studios. When shit got spooky and scary, you wanted to be the least threatening person in the room. So, Wally played the fool and put on the mask of the loud and clumsy janitor who was always losing his keys. And his coworkers started to think they knew what to expect from him. They slotted him into a box in their minds and forgot about him. They never seemed to realize just how much he saw and heard.

After all, no one pays attention to the janitor unless he fucks up.

However, there was one person who saw behind Wally's mask.

And that was Norman Polk.

Because, like Wally, very few people paid attention to Norman, which allowed him to see and hear quite a lot. Where Wally relied on people's expectations, Norman relied on just not being seen at all. Even Wally failed to notice him at times. And it was through that ability to go unnoticed that Norman realized just how many important events Wally had witnessed.

"You're a lot smarter than anyone gives you credit for," Norman remarked one day when Wally had come up to the projection booth to empty his trashcan.

Wally fumbled, nearly dropping the trashcan. "What- Whaddaya mean?" He asked, his voice pitching a bit higher in surprise.

Norman shifted slightly, languidly crossing one leg over the other. "You're a lot smarter than anyone gives you credit for," he repeated, completely calm.

"What makes you say that?" Wally avoided eye contact as he shakily emptied the bin into his trash bag.

"People don't notice, but you're in the background for a lot of things," Norman said, leaning casually back in his chair. "Business meetings, fights, conversations between our coworkers. When secrets are being spilled, you're there, just in the background."

Wally paused, then laughed as he turned to face Norman. "You fishin' for information, Norman?"

Norman put his hands up. "I'm not fishing. I'm just saying, it'd be nice to swap secrets with someone who knows as much as I do."

"Really?" Wally raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "You think I'm on your level?"

"Oh, I know you are," Norman said, returning Wally's smile with one of his own.

Wally watched him for a moment or two before giving a nod. "Alright. Meet me out back after work. We can get a drink."

Norman nodded back. "Sounds good to me."

Sure enough, the two of them met up outside the back door after the work day had ended. Norman got there first, with Wally showing up nearly half an hour later.

"Sorry," he said as he rushed out the back door. "Got chewed out by Sammy 'cause I lost my keys again."

"Why do you do that?" Norman asked as Wally gestured for him to follow as he set off down the street.

"Why do I do what?" Wally glanced back.

"Why do you pretend to be an idiot?" Norman picked up his pace a bit to keep up with Wally. "You lose your keys on purpose. I've seen you drop them in a trashcan and pick them up again later."

"Wasn't always pretending," Wally insisted. "The first couple of times I really did lose my keys."

"But why keep doing it?" Norman pressed. "Why let everyone think you're an idiot?"

Wally went quiet for a moment or two, his expression surprisingly solemn.

"'S easier that way," he finally said.

Norman frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's easier when people don't think you're a threat," Wally said. His normally cheerful and goofy expression was gone, replaced with one of calm understanding. "There's no way I'd be safe in the studio if people realized I knew half the stuff I do. If they just think I'm an idiot, there's no reason for them to pay attention to me."

Norman considered this, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Makes sense," he said. "Sorry for questioning you."

"Eh, it's fine." Wally's smile returned as he gently bumped his shoulder against Norman's. "I get it. It seems weird to want everyone to think you're dumb."

"We all do weird things to stay safe." Norman let out a weary sigh. "That's the nature of the world."

"Hey! Enough sad talk!" Wally bumped Norman's shoulder again. "You wanted to talk secrets, right? Well, boy have I got one for you."

Norman's gaze sharpened with interest. "Oh really?" He asked, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do tell."

Wally grinned back. "Alright, so, you know how Mary's been fighting with Albert over him allegedly seeing Doris? Well, you're never gonna guess who I saw in the conference room last week..."

[poetlcs]

I’ve quite literally never seen a critique of fast fashion, particularly shein, get anywhere because it immediately gets bombarded with “not all people can afford” “don’t shame people who-” “it’s classist to say...” and it’s fucking FRUSTRATING. Anyone whose educated enough about how the fashion industry runs KNOWS that already. If they didn’t, they do - due to the fact its the only discourse that ever, EVER gets brought up when someone dares to critique a billion dollar company like shein (as if their target customer isn’t someone wealthy and not a poor person buying 1 shirt a year), they know now. Like every fast fashion critique immediately becomes a “poor western people” discussion immediately making it the dominant discourse in any fast fashion critique. 

I’m actually so sick of seeing fast fashion critique get derailed at every opportunity. Maybe some people have good intentions, but I really think half these people just want a way to deflect their guilt by masking it in moral/virtue signalling arguments. 

Like, fucking ironic you always see “but don’t forget people are poor :(” as if a critique on FF isn’t inherently about protecting the poor and exploited. NEWSFLASH! The consumer in the west is NOT the poor person in this discussion. “it’s so classist to say I shouldn’t buy from shein :(” as if it isn’t also classist to render the garment worker invisible in this discussion. Like they are literally SO invisible it doesn’t even occur to people to consider their relative wealth and privilege that they can go out and buy these items... a shein worker literally would need to work weeks to months to afford a shein item themselves. 

I’ve seen these convos happen over and over and over without making any progress and it’s honestly kind of disgusting. People really need to stop deflecting critique every time they mildly cop it and attempting to derail every conversation about how the fashion industry relies on brutal exploitation of workers. It’s like no one can take personal responsibility or even REFLECT on their choices without immediately starting to defend themselves under the guide of “”poor people””. I think is telling of how people really don’t want to admit that their actions directly impact the world and they feel too inconvenienced to reckon with that in any real way. I also find it alarming how many “feminists” refuse to engage with this even though garment worker abuse IS a feminist issue due to the vast majority of garment workers being women. 

Finally - “don’t shame people who buy from fast fashion”... but it IS shameful. it may not be your fault, you may not have another choice genuinely.. that doesn’t mean it isn’t shameful. Because really all people critiquing fast fashion are critiquing a system of exploitation and abuse, and it’s shameful it exists and that we as western consumers created it and get to benefit from it. But people refuse to take discussing this issue as anything other than personal and thats why we will never, ever get anywhere. 

So maybe next time someone says something like “hey shein is bad” you could hold your “BUT BUT BUT” comments for one moment and actually think, seriously, about engaging with the topic and listening to what people have to say. idk

[stonebutchery]

hey can we please talk about how the hatred and disdain for children is what institutional violence against children thrives and relies on and maybe have compassion for children or something.

i genuinely feel like i’m going insane when i see people say they unironically hate kids. i know this is going to sound harsh but i sincerely don’t fucking care what your personal feelings or your individual experiences with being expected to have kids are or whatever. this isn’t about you. kids don’t have any fucking autonomous control over their lives. children are, puzzlingly, barely even considered a protected class in many parts of the world, and that’s if the people running your country even pretend to care.

the trauma endured, worldwide, specifically by children, goes completely ignored every day (or is packaged as a convenient excuse to sell legislature that aims to censor and sanitize public spaces and the internet in the name of capitalist greed), whether that’s corporal punishment, sexual abuse and exploitation, human trafficking, homelessness, neglect, queerphobic repression and conversion therapy and abuse, parental abuse, medical abuse, behavioral modification and troubled teen industry programs, other institutional child abuse, or any of the several literal genocides happening right now with victims that are largely children, is why you have to start giving a fuck about kids.

if you have “protect trans youth” somewhere on your blog and say shit like “i genuinely hate kids” i think you should read a fucking book or go outside and see for yourself what is happening to trans youth at the hands of adults. if you say “free palestine” and “free sudan” and “free congo,” you do not get to say “i hate kids” (and fuck you if you do). if you’ve experienced any kind of childhood trauma, if you survived child abuse or neglect, then you, of all people, should know what it feels like to have no one looking out for you, no one caring enough to help you, no one giving a fuck about your suffering when you don’t possess any power to change anything going on around you.

why is this still such a huge fucking debate? you seriously have to start fucking caring about kids. children, disabled people, and the elderly are some of the most vulnerable populations on this earth, and the largest groups of vulnerable people in numbers. and you can’t avoid being a child or elderly or disabled in your life, yet we mistreat people who are disabled, elderly, or kids all the time.

i don't know how else to say it. you have to start giving a fuck about kids. please, for the love of god, shut the fuck up about how much you "hate kids."