#just got clip studio paint and this shit is wild

[uzukali]

yo.

[genericpuff]

Alright, update on the tablet situation, I do NOT have good news but there are some silver linings.

First off, thank you all so much for your patience. That one week I took off to relax seemed to be an invitation for the universe to fuck with my shit because my tablet literally chose the worst time to get on my nerves ( This is totally not something I'm gonna bring up with my therapist as proof that I'm not allowed to rest /s) I've tried just about everything to get it working again, I got a replacement 3-in-1 cable and even that didn't do anything, so I've ordered in a new pen, but that's not due to show up for another week or two.

However, I do not want to wait a week or two on the off chance that a new pen even solves the problem.

So the GOOD NEWS in all this is that I do still have my iPad. It wasn't setup with Clip Studio Paint because I own a perpetual license for my PC, but seeing as how now I can't use it on my PC (at least not with my tablet pen) I've gone ahead and setup the mobile version on my tablet, thankfully I got a discount because I already own a perpetual license but it's still gonna cost me $10/month so that's yet another subscription to slap on the 'ole credit card.

Now that does mean I have to go through the painstaking efforts of moving everything from my PC onto my tablet, but thankfully that issue is easily solved with cloud backups and transferring. Really all I need to be able to do is draw, I can still do speech bubbles and text input and texture overlays and all that post-production stuff on my PC, but anything that requires actual drawing I'm gonna be using my iPad for. So please, don't mind if you notice some weird little art differences between Episode 30 and 29, I'm adjusting to a new workflow! It shouldn't be too bad because I'll still be using the exact same brushes and textures and all that fun stuff that I do on my PC, it just comes with the adjustment of drawing primarily on iPad, which I don't normally do (I usually only draw on my iPad for tattooing and that's in Procreate which I still suck at using outside of lineart LMAO)

This is a very stressful situation that I'm hoping will only be temporary until I get that new tablet pen, and if THAT doesn't solve the issue, then I'm gonna have to start shopping for a new tablet entirely, and that's not something I can do immediately because I'm already starting to struggle financially due to the slow season creeping in at work and I'm still paying off that new PC I put down on layaway (which I'm regretting already). All that said, if you want to help a pal out, please consider tossing a dollar or two at me on my Ko-Fi, it's all gonna go towards a new drawing tablet if I need it (and if the pen solves the issue, then you'll be helping me stay afloat so I can keep bringing you guys the good shit LOL)

What's wild is that in all my Google searching, I found a thread from two months ago with literally the EXACT same issue, under the exact same conditions, in which OP's tablet pen unexpectedly stopped registering with their Huion Kamvas 22 Plus that they had owned for two years. According to them, it did start working again, after resetting the PC and re-installing the driver over and over again, but I've already done that myself a ton of times and I'm tired of being let down and that doesn't seem like a "real" solution beyond luck, so I'm gonna take a break from doing that while I get my iPad set up. I have the sneaking suspicion this might have to do with some recent Windows updates that just rolled out, my PC had definitely gone through a couple leading up to the malfunction. This wouldn't be the first time Microsoft has fucked with my tablet functionality so I literally wouldn't be surprised if it was something like that. Either that, or the '2' in Kamvas 22 stands for "will only last for 2 years before stopping entirely" LOL

Anyways, that's all for now. Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding through all this. While I don't want to have to reduce the quality or frequency of what I put out for you guys due to technical issues, I also don't want the comic to stop entirely, so if this turns into one of those desperate situations where I'm delivering you guys episodes of Rekindled drawn on a Nintendo DS, so be it. I'm not gonna let this beat me.

[guesswhosonfire]

Deignited isn't dead, I haven't had much of a chance to work on anything over this year between uni and other priorities. It's also been even longer since I last uploaded an update to ModDB, but rest assured - there's been plenty of progress made since the middle of last year or whenever it was.

Mostly in regards to Spyro 1 enemies. Some of them are like fully done (except for custom eyes) - modelled, vert painted, rigged and all set up in UE and everything, but most are in various stages of the rigging process and/or pretty close to being fully modelled and vert coloured.

I seriously need to get off my arse and dump the dev screenies onto Tumblr (or make more for the stuff that hasn't been documented anywhere).

For now, I'm gonna ramble about a recent development.

Sometimes it can be a bit of a trial to rig a low-poly model to armatures/animations made for a high-poly model, especially when you're not bothering to make extra geometry around the joints to accommodate for deformation out of stubbornness regarding the general lack thereof throughout the OG Spyro models.

Yes, I'm aware of the rampart hypocrisy. Anyone who's played the mod or seen the models knows that I've made plenty of deviations - the muscular-type dragons, for example.

Trondo's got forearm muscles since I cut more geometry into them to connect the spines to his main mesh (Bubba taught me the hard way that disconnecting thing and shit from the arms is a good way to make jank visuals) and provide more of an accurate position to vert paint the bandages - and then there's poor bastards like Gavin who really need an extra loop midway along the forearm(s) to avoid taking a trip through Clip City during their animations.

I don't know if I should try fiddle with his weights before resorting to another loop - and also, whether or not I want to do this with every dragon who doesn't already have additional forearm loops.

Either way, I need to fix Cosmos' rigging.

That being said, I think I'm running into more dilemmas involving twists along limbs more often than the joints themselves. It can be pretty wild if there's only just one loop per joint, e.g. shoulder - elbow - wrist; sometimes it's exacerbated by having only four verts in a loop, sometimes it isn't.

There's usually a way around it if you fiddle around with the tweak bones, like if you balance out an arm by taking some of the shoulder/clavicle's first arm tweak bone influence and dumping it into one or more of the last ones, then vice versa for however much the elbow is weighted to the last arm tweak bones. Can't always change the direction of the tris in a quad, what might work for one position might get completely fucked up in another positon/anim/etc.

Sometimes, the increments in rotation between a limb's tweak bones during certain animations aren't relatively equal, and it can get messier if the weights aren't particularly feathered from loop to loop.

Again, stuff like this always varies - and Toys for Bob, Sanzaru and all the outsource studios who helped with Reignited are all miles more experienced and talented than I am with animation (and 3D in general), so I'm not in much of a position to whinge about it…even if there are times where analysing stuff makes me feel like I'm going to have a stroke.

word of advice do not look at the sleeping dogs' weight painting because holy jesus motherfucking christ

Take the big Carrot-Topped Monks from Dream Weavers during their death animation, for example. The sudden twist between tweak 1 and tweak 2 is doing a number on those polygons, and then up until the elbow it's relatively smooth sailing. With a little figurative and literal elbow grease, you can kinda alleviate how much the faces clip into each other on a lower-poly model!

Untwisting the loops can kinda sacrifice some of their width or general size, especially if shit's fucked from shoulder, elbow to wrist…

I might be able to fix that.

What I might not be able to fix is something regarding the small versions of these guys.

Look, this isn't my first time seeing limbs without gradual tweak bones, but um, I think this might be the first time I've seen an armature have those tweak bones while the model just straight up doesn't have any vertex groups for those bones.

The bones themselves are animated, but since tweak bones are in parenting chains stemming from a main bone and main bones are usually parented to other main bones…they're kinda unable to do anything here.

I've never added custom vert groups to my Deignited models before, so I'm not sure what'd happen if I did for the small Carrot-Topped Monks. Even then, I don't know if the order of the groups is a potential issue either in Blender itself, UE and/or Reignited.

Or if it'd just fuck up the animations in general.

Unfortunately there's only one way to find out - and that is trial and error.

I'd probably rather deal with this than fun eyelids. Looking at you, most of the fodder in Year of the Dragon…

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

--

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

--

masterpost

-

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

[snowonthebeachmp3]

July 2016

Jul 3rd - Taylor's 4th of July festivities kick off at her Rhode Island house. Guests include Tom Hiddleston, Abigail Anderson, Matt Lucier, Claire Winter, Ryan Reynolds, Blake Lively, Karlie Kloss, Josh Kushner, Austin Swift, Ruby Rose, Harley Gusman, Halston Sage, Gigi Hadid, Cara Delevingne, Britany Maack, Ben LaManna, Martha Hunt, Jason McDonald, Uzo Aduba, Chioma Aduba, Jordan Masterson, Kesha, St Vincent, Ed Sheeran, Cherry Seaborn, Rachel Platten, Kennedy Rayé and the Haim sisters. (x) (x) (x) (x)

This is the day Tom wears the infamous 'I <3 TS' tank top while they're all at the beach. (x)

Jul 4th - The online mockery for the 'I <3 TS' shirt is quick to pour in. Daily Mail commenters are yet to shut up about it in 2021.

The party continues with a giant inflatable waterslide, body painting, karaoke, charades and fireworks. (x) And also Kesha and Haim getting tricked by Cara, Uzo and Ruby into thinking they heard scary noises in the night, and trying to call the police but not knowing their own location. (x) (x)

Jul 5th - The day after the party, when all the guests post their photos online.

Britany posts a photo of her & Ben, Blake & Ryan, and Taylor & Tom. (x) The internet has a field day with Ryan's unimpressed facial expression. (x) (Ryan later says that it's just his resting bitch face as he wasn't aware a photo was being taken. (x))

Taylor posts several photos to Instagram of her celebrating the 4th July with friends, but doesn't post any pictures with Tom. (x)

Claire Winter posts a bunch of Polaroids, including one of Taylor and Tom kissing. (x)

Abigail posts a photo to Instagram showing the banners Taylor put up to celebrate her engagement to Matt and the anniversaries of Cara & St Vincent (real name Annie Clark) and Ed & Cherry. (x)

Jul 6th - Taylor and Tom fly out of Rhode Island (x) and arrive at LAX that evening. (x) They then get on a plane to Australia.

Joe attends the Warner Music Group summer party in London. (x)

Rumours are swirling that Tom is no longer in consideration to be the next Bond, due to his relationship with Taylor. (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Jul 8th - Taylor and Tom are flying on a commercial Quantas flight so someone is able to take a pic of them on the plane. (x)

According to another passenger on the plane, Taylor plays Scrabble during the flight (presumably on her phone because nobody takes big physical board games on commercial flights and the creepshot of Hiddleswift on the plane suggests she wouldn't have had anywhere to put the board anyway). In hindsight, knowing how Taylor and Joe play lots of Scrabble together including online Scrabble aka Words With Friends, and how they stayed in touch largely via texting that summer, it’s very possible she was playing against Joe.

Taylor and Tom arrive in Sydney, where Tom is about to start filming for Thor: Ragnarok. (x) Aussie media, including daytime TV, goes nuts over Hiddleswift's arrival in the country. (x)

Flying from LA to Australia involves crossing the international dateline, so they would have left the US on the 6th July local time and arrived in Sydney approx 15 hours later on the 8th July local time.

Calvin's new song Olé, written for John Newman, is released. There is speculation that it's a Hiddleswift song, written from Tom's perspective and containing lyrics implying that Taylor cheated on Calvin with Tom. However, sources also told multiple outlets that the song was written and recorded months earlier, and its supposed links to Hiddleswift were just for publicity. (x) (x)

Jul 9th - Tom goes out for a run (x) and avoids answering questions about Taylor. (x)

Jul 10th - Taylor and Tom go out for dinner to Gemelli Italian restaurant in Broadbeach on Australia's Gold Coast. (x)

Jul 11th - Taylor is named as the highest earning celebrity on the 2016 Forbes Celebrity 100 list, with earnings of $170m mostly due to the 1989 World Tour. If she and Calvin had not split up, they would have been the top-earning celebrity couple. (x)

Jul 12th - Taylor visits Lady Cilento Children’s Hospital in South Brisbane. (x)

Jul 13th - Us Weekly makes a wild claim that Tom is planning to propose soon, and Taylor is going to say yes. The magazine cover also claims they're already talking about babies. (x)

TMZ claims that Taylor wrote TIWYCF, and that Calvin disrespecting Taylor following its release was the reason for their breakup. (x)

Taylor Swift really is the creative brains behind Calvin Harris' monster hit "This is What You Came For," and their relationship fell apart because he disrespected her when the song was released ... this according to sources connected with Taylor.

It's a fascinating story. We've learned an early fan rumor about the song is true, but to a deeper extent than anyone suspected. During their relationship, Taylor wrote the song, sat down at a piano and did a demo into her iPhone. She sent it to Calvin, who loved it. They both went into a studio and did a full demo with Taylor on vocals and Calvin doing the beat.

They both knew the song would be a hit, but Taylor wrote it for Calvin and both agreed it was a bad idea to let the world know they collaborated as a couple ... it would overshadow the song.

So Taylor, who kept the publishing rights, used the pseudonym Nils Sjoberg on the credits.

//

The problem in the relationship came the day the song was released. Calvin appeared on Ryan Seacrest's radio show and Ryan asked, "Will you do a collaboration with your girlfriend?" Calvin responded, "You know we haven't even spoken about it. I can't see it happening though."

We're told Taylor was hurt and felt Calvin took it too far.

It was a quick downward spiral from that point. One source called it "the breaking point in the relationship." The Met Gala was several days later, when Taylor danced with Tom Hiddleston.

Tree confirms to People magazine that Taylor did write TIWYCF under the pseudonym Nils Sjöberg. (x)

Calvin also confirms that Taylor wrote TIWYCF and goes on a Twitter rant:

Katy Perry tweets a gif of Hillary Clinton with a smug/'told you so' expression. (x) She also retweets an older tweet from May 2015 which reads, 'Time, the ultimate truth teller.' (x)

#TaylorSwiftIsOverParty trends on Twitter (x) (x) and Taylor's Instagram comments are spammed with the snake emoji. (x)

Following Calvin's tweets, TMZ publishes another article claiming he is downplaying Taylor's involvement in the song as she wrote the melody in addition to the lyrics. (x)

Jul 14th - Taylor goes out shopping in Gold Coast. (x)

Tom mentions Taylor in an interview with the Hollywood Reporter: (x)

You're in the middle of a cultural frenzy right now because you're dating Taylor Swift. How would you respond to people who claim that you're involved in some sort of publicity stunt?

(Laughs.) Well, um. How best to put this? That notion is — look, the truth is that Taylor Swift and I are together, and we're very happy. Thanks for asking. That's the truth. It's not a publicity stunt.

Martha says at a Pepsi/World Emoji Day event that Taylor and Tom are 'both happy and free together. It's amazing, I'm all about people being happy in love.' (x)

Kim talks about Taylor and the Famous controversy in a clip from an upcoming episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. (x)

“I never talk shit about anyone publicly, especially in interviews. But I was just like I had so had it,” Kim says in the clip to her sister Kourtney. “I wanted to defend him in it. She legitimately quote says, ‘As soon as I get on that Grammy red carpet I’m gonna tell all the press. Like I was in on it.’”

“And then she just didn’t like the reaction?” Kourtney says in response.

“Yeah, and you know just another way to play the victim,” Kim replies. She then brings the infamous VMAs moment from 2009 by saying, “It definitely got her a lot of attention the first time… I just don’t think he should be punished for it still to this day.”

Jul 17th - Kim posts an edited recording of Kanye and Taylor's phone call. In it, they discuss the 'I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex' line and Taylor says, 'Go with whatever line you think is better. It’s obviously very tongue in cheek either way. And I really appreciate you telling me about it. That’s really nice.' However, nowhere in the Snapchat video does Kanye consult her about the line, 'I made that bitch famous,' which is the line Taylor insisted she had never approved. (x) The other Kardashian sisters retweet and support Kim. (x)

(The full recording of the call, leaked in 2020, confirms that Kanye never told Taylor he was going to call her a bitch. It also shows her reminding him that she sold 7 million albums before he had even heard of her, in response to him suggesting the lyric, 'I made her famous.')

Kim takes to Twitter to call Taylor a snake.

Taylor posts a statement on Instagram responding to Kim's Snapchat video. (x)

Selena tweets, 'There are more important things to talk about… Why can’t people use their voice for something that fucking matters? This industry is so disappointing yet the most influential smh' (x)

Katy Perry tweets, '#RISE above it all' and links to her new single. People interpret it as a dig at Taylor. (x)

Martha Hunt tweets, 'It's pathetic how quick our culture is to sensationalize a fabricated story...' (x)

Jul 18th - #KimExposedTaylorParty spends the day trending at number one worldwide on Twitter. (x) To the point where 0.8% of all tweets posted in the entire week from the 18th-24th use the hashtag. (x) (Assuming that 1/7th of the week's total tweets were posted on each day, that means more than 1 in every 20 tweets on the 18th used the hashtag.) #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty also returns.

TMZ claims to have a copy of a letter from Taylor's lawyer, dating back to February, demanding that Kanye destroy the recording of their phone conversation and reminding him that it is a felony to secretly record a phone conversation in California. (x)

Taylor changes the name on her writing credits for TIWYCF on the BMI songwriters database. She is now listed as Taylor Swift instead of Nils Sjöberg. (x)

Camilla Belle, the subject of Taylor's 2010 song Better Than Revenge, posts a quote to Instagram which reads, 'No need for revenge. Just sit back & wait. Those who hurt you will eventually screw up themselves & if you’re lucky, God will let you watch.' (x)

Abigail tweets against Kim and Kanye, saying, 'May God forgive you & your wife for doing to others the very things you pray are NEVER done to your daughter.' She deletes the tweets after receiving death threats but leaves a tweet which reads, 'Guys…I will always stand by my best friend. There's no point in fighting over that.' (x)

Joseph Kahn (director of many of Taylor's music videos) defends Taylor on Twitter. (x)

The aunt of Dinah Jane from Fifth Harmony tweets, 'I always knew @/taylorswift13 was a SNAKE! Trying 2 break up my girls & use @/camilacabello97 as her protégé bitch bye you’ve been exposed!’ (x) The tweet is soon deleted and she claims her account was hacked. (x) (Camila quit the band at the end of 2016 and has since said that Taylor had nothing to do with her decision to leave.) (x)

Paula Erickson, Taylor’s former publicist from 2007 until 2014, likes a two-and-a-half-week-old tweet dragging Hiddleswift for being a badly executed bit of PR by Taylor and Tree. (x)

James Corden spoofs the recorded phone call on the Late Late Show. (x)

Calvin is rumoured to be dating Tinashe. (x)

Jul 20th - Todrick Hall defends Taylor, saying, 'She's one of the most genuine people I've ever met in my entire life.' (x)

Uzo Aduba says Taylor is 'a beautiful person and strong' and that she will overcome the Kimye drama. (x)

Paula likes another tweet shading Taylor and Tree. (x)

A graffiti artist creates a mural in Melbourne 'in loving memory of Taylor Swift' (misspelled as Smith). According to the artist, they are then contacted by Taylor's lawyers and threatened with legal action. (x)

Jul 21st - Taylor's Wikipedia page is vandalised with insults. (x)

Taylor and Tom fly back from Australia into a private airport in LA, and are seen out and about. (x) (x)

Jul 22nd - Fergie, who had Kim appear in her M.I.L.F. $ music video, says she thinks the Kimye-Taylor feud was planned and 'they’ll probably all come together at the MTV Awards or something.' (x)

Taylor goes to the gym in LA. It is the first time she has appeared in public since Kim posted the edited video, and her phone screen is now shattered. (x)

She also returns to Instagram to wish Selena a happy birthday. (x)

Jul 23rd - Taylor goes to the gym in LA. (x)

Tom is at Comic Con in San Diego. (x)

Calvin lip-syncs to Kanye's song That Part in a video posted on his Snapchat. (x) He also attends J-Lo's birthday party and is photographed with Kim. Apparently they have a friendly chat. (x) A source claims to E!, 'When Kim walked in Calvin saw her and stood up. He was clearly excited to see her and said 'hi' to Kim backstage.' (x)

Jul 24th - Taylor blocks the snake emoji from her Instagram comments section using a new Instagram feature. (x)

Tom is seen at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills with members of Taylor's security team. (x)

Jul 26th - Tom flies back to LA from NYC, where he has just spent a couple of days. On the same day, Taylor's plane arrives back in LA from Nashville, where she has spent a couple of days. (x)

VMA nominations are announced. Taylor is not nominated in any category, despite Out Of The Woods and Wildest Dreams being eligible, leading some people to think she has been snubbed. Gossip Cop, an outlet widely used by celebrity publicists to quietly squash rumours, says that Taylor did not submit any videos for consideration this year. (x)

Jul 27th - Taylor goes to the gym in LA. (x)

John Newman, singer of Calvin's song Olé, jokes, 'Supposedly we had a holiday where he was movin’ on from his ex-missus,' referring to the trip to Mexico to film the music video, which involved girls and a yacht. He also says he doesn't think it's his place to say what inspired Calvin to write the song. (x)

Taylor and Tom go for dinner at Hillstone restaurant in Santa Monica. One source claims they 'seemed to really be enjoying each others’ company.' (x) It is the last time they are papped together.

Kanye makes a surprise appearance at Drake's concert in Chicago where he responds to Kim's Snapchat video for the first time, saying, 'All I gotta say is, I am so glad my wife has Snapchat. Because now y’all can know the truth. And can’t nobody talk shit about ‘Ye no more.' (x)

Cara appears on James Corden's show and talks about how she, Uzo and Ruby pranked Kesha and Haim at Taylor's 4th of July party. She mentions consulting Taylor and Tom first so that security knew what they were up to. She also says that Taylor and Tom got woken up at one point by all the noise they were making, and came upstairs together to find Cara and Uzo still making ghost noises. (x)

Jul 28th - Taylor goes to the gym in LA. (x)

Jul 29th - Sources close to Calvin deny rumours that he is planning to collaborate on music with Kanye. (x)

Abigail likes E! News' Instagram photo of Tom and Taylor going out for dinner on the 27th, which has a gushing caption about them. (x)

Jul 31st - Taylor is seen entering her gym in LA through the back door. (x)

A fan sees Tom and Taylor at The Church Key restaurant in LA. (x) The outing is not papped.

Intro // February // March // April // May // June // July // August // September // October // November

[homeformyheart]

until now - m!raleigh carrera x mc (plat)

author’s note: trying my hand at a shorter piece and for platinum – there will probably be at least one follow-up to this but both will stay as one-shots.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. songs and lyrics owned by their respective creators. series/pairing: platinum – raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian); mentions of jessica clark (red carpet diaries mc) rating/warnings: 13+; swearing, infidelity, angst word count: 1.7k based on/prompt: “should’ve said no” by taylor swift summary: raleigh gets too drunk and too close to a fan and the only real relationship he’s ever had falls apart.

until now

cadence could recall exactly where she was the moment r&b’s timebomb blew up the internet. she couldn’t recall with detail how she felt or how she reacted in that immediate moment but she could describe the exact shade of brown from her morning latte that stained the open page of her notebook because she stared at it for a solid five minutes after the headlines broke. she was working on a new single for her upcoming album that needed an angsty, heartbreak vibe to balance the upbeat, love-focused songs she had already written. she had a few lines written (it’s strange to think the songs we used to sing / the smiles, the flowers, everything) but had been struggling with motivation to come up with anything more – after all, she hadn’t been heartbroken in a while.

she was happy in her relationship with raleigh and where she was in her career. her first world tour had been a huge success, with raleigh joining her on tour as often as he could. after her tour was over, he insisted he didn’t want to wake up in his apartment without her and it didn’t take long before cadence moved into his penthouse. a few months later, she was able to join raleigh for the beginning of his transformation world tour, his first album since deciding he could embrace the things he enjoyed from his sunset skatepark days, making it his most personal project to date. of course, whenever the music and obligations to the studio called her back to new york, they facetimed as much as they could.

dating cadence had given raleigh some of the “good boyfriend” brownie points with the public related to loyalty and affection. it helped that cadence defended him against unfair accusations and doubled down on how well he treated her to the media and their fans. and no matter what part of his reputation was theme-of-the-week over at the tabloids – shameless flirt, heartbreaker, wild card, adrenaline junkie, to name the popular ones – raleigh never gave anyone a reason to label him as a cheater and more importantly, never gave cadence any reason not to trust him. even in his fake relationships, raleigh made sure that that part of his reputation was sterling. until now.

her phone had buzzed non-stop when the news broke – to the point where she thought she was getting phone calls that sounded like a ticking time bomb but they were mostly texts and social media notifications. the headlines filled her feed one after another – “raleigh carerra cheats on cadence dorian!” “did ralence break-up?” “was cadence too boring for raleigh?” “cadence drives raleigh into arms of another woman!” – along with hundreds of theories painted by devastated and thirsty fans alike who picked apart every public appearance, interaction, social media post, and song lyric associated with the two of them for the past six months as if they could find incriminating clues and signs of a slowly fizzling relationship like amateur sleuths. cadence had to give them props – it’s not like she wouldn’t eventually do the same once she was ready to process the relationship; in some ways, the fans gave her a head start.

how was she supposed to react to this right now? the photos and videos definitely highlighted that sabrina simmons, who cadence vaguely recognized as a media-hungry and wannabe actress from one of raleigh’s older music videos, cozying up to and grinding on raleigh at a club in london, presumably the afterparty for the closing night of his tour. cadence could also point out every tell-tale sign that raleigh was drunk out of his mind; he was relishing in the attention from sabrina and being inappropriately handsy for someone in a well-known, committed relationship. what most people didn’t know, was that cadence could forgive that – raleigh was normally flirty and handsy and alcohol always exacerbated it. what she didn’t think she could forgive was the next thing she saw – or rather heard.

if cadence felt like she was close to either having a raging smash-everything-breakable-in-raleigh’s-apartment spree or an emotional-because-her-heart-was-actually-breaking meltdown, the audio clip that hit her inbox pushed her to the teetering edge of both. the recording was barely 15 seconds long but it was damning. given the circumstances, it was probably planted or planned by sabrina who wanted to catapult herself into internet fame by taking advantage of raleigh’s reputation. her voice could be heard asking him if he wanted to come back to her hotel room. the question didn’t matter to cadence though, because raleigh’s response – “fuck yes” – was clear as day and cadence knew it would haunt her for months to come.

[jessica: just saw the videos – u ok? i’m heading home to iowa for a break from work, come stay with me, no one will find you there]

cadence quickly typed out a text reply, grateful for the close friendship she had with jessica clarke, the actress-turned-director who directed the music video for her last single. there was only one call she needed to make. if anyone was already putting things in motion, it was fiona. right on cue, she picked up and before cadence could say two words, said, “i’m so sorry cadence. i’ve already got movers on the other line and hank’s on his way.”

“thanks fiona. i’m going to stay with jessica in iowa and lay low for a bit. raleigh is not allowed to find out where i am; i will get a new phone if i need to,” cadence said, calmly starting to pull out and sort her things from raleigh’s closet so the movers would know exactly what to pack while she ironed out a few more details with fiona.

raleigh was still way too drunk when his manager barged into his hotel room and forced him into the shower. he was very drunk when his security team had to half-drag him all the way to where the private jet was waiting at the airport. he was mostly drunk throughout the eight-hour flight back to new york and progressed to staggeringly hungover by the time he was in a private car heading back to his penthouse apartment. once raleigh felt like he was only massively hungover, he pulled out his phone to text cadence. he became only mostly hungover after seeing that his texts weren’t going through. in a matter of seconds, his now slightly hungover state took a backseat to the anxiety filling his stomach as he tried calling to no avail. he frowned as he opened his news feed. the headlines alone made his eyes widen but the videos were what sobered him up the rest of the way.

a new email in his inbox from cadence caught his eye. it was an audio clip and a straightforward message: just so we’re clear, our relationship is over.

cadence was halfway to the airport when she saw the incoming call from an unknown number. she knew it was probably raleigh since she had blocked his number, but she answered the call anyway. she knew she was going to need the closure, may as well get it out of the way.

“cadence? it’s me, please don’t hang up. i’m so sorry, babe. i have no idea what happened, believe me. i woke up in my own hotel room alone, i promise,” raleigh begged, the pit in his stomach had lodged itself in his throat, threatening to turn into tears.

she chose to ignore what he just said. if she let herself pull at that thread and dig into it further to see if it was the truth, she’d never be able to end things cleanly. “tell me this – was she worth it? was she worth this?” she asked, her voice hardened as a reminder to both herself and raleigh that he couldn’t sweet talk his way out of this one.

“of course not. i was black out drunk and don’t remember anything, i swear. all of the stuff in the videos and photos, it was all just—” raleigh’s voice softened, “a moment of weakness.”

“that’s convenient since i’m pretty sure this wasn’t an isolated moment,” cadence said in a clipped tone, examining her worn nail beds. she made a mental note to ask jessica for salon recommendations in her hometown. “do you honestly expect me to believe we could ever be the same?”

“i love you, cadence. i would never cheat on you, babe – you have to believe me,” raleigh pleaded, swallowing his pride at the fact that he was begging right now.

cadence let out a dry, humorless laugh. “i don’t have to do anything, those recordings speak for themselves. you should’ve known that what you did with her would get back to me. and you know what i think? you knew what you were doing. you actually had everything you could’ve ever wanted – the fame, fortune, and creative freedom that comes with success in this industry and something real with someone who cares about the real you, not the curated, fake version of you.”

she paused to take a deep breath and blink back the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. keep it together, cadence, she told herself. “and it scared the shit out of you, didn’t it? it got too real for you because having something real and precious as love in your life also means you could lose it too. and even the thought of that happening made you feel so vulnerable that instead of treasuring and protecting it you decided to utterly destroy the only real relationship you’ve ever had. congratulations – you’ve perfected your bad boy reputation and collected the last trophy you needed, cheater.”

her words cut right through him. “i— i’m so sorry, cadence,” raleigh whispered into the phone. “i swear, i don’t remember saying yes to her or even doing anything with her. please just, tell me what i need to do to fix this.”

the audio recording replayed on loop in cadence’s mind. after a long pause, she whispered back, “you should’ve said no.” the finality of cadence’s tone was punctuated by the beep from his phone indicating she had hung up.

raleigh stood up from the couch where he had sat while on the phone with cadence. as he walked toward the bathroom, he finally looked around his apartment and realized that all of her stuff was gone. the apartment was empty, quiet, almost sterile with its clear surface areas and shiny, clean floors. it was like she had never lived here; his closet didn’t have the hint of jasmine from the perfume on her clothes, his sink counter was devoid of her jewelry and makeup, his music room wasn’t drowning in loose sheets of paper covered in her handwriting, and worst of all, the clothes she always borrowed of his, including his oversized tour shirts and sweatpants, were folded neatly on his bed.

he reached into the back corner of his closet, the side closest to the door, where no one ever stored or looked for anything until he found his gym bag. his felt around the old shirts in the bag until his fingers wrapped around a small, velvet box. he didn’t have to open it to recall the vivid five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring he had planned on proposing to cadence with. he held the box against his forehead, hand clenched around it, before throwing it as hard as he could out the bedroom door into the living room, twisting and turning his body from a crouching to an upright position in one smooth motion. maybe he should’ve been a baseball pitcher instead. it hit the far wall with a resounding thud.

the echo reverberated throughout his living room until it was met with silence, once again reminding him that he was utterly alone. and for the first time in a very long time, he cried. raleigh carrera had never been heartbroken before. until now.

* * * * * mentions: @raleigh-edward; @dulceghernandez; @thegreentwin; @kat-tia801; @otherworldlypresents; @brycesgirl; @robintora;

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I’d love for you guys to have Mark Lewisohn on your show just to grill him. As someone who’s experienced workplace bullying and sexual assault, that he would go so far as to paint Klein as “heroic” when he said things like “reluctant virgin” is just so devastating to me. It makes me feel ill. I do NOT want this man to have a say in Beatles history. I love the Beatles. I don’t want that tainted by people who will paint over abuse just to feed their own self importance.

We vehemently agree, Listener!  Thank you for writing in.

Our list of grievances with Mark Lewisohn is long, but in a nutshell we believe his intent is to publicly “redeem” John Lennon and we have seen copious evidence that he will go to whatever lengths he has to in order to do this. 

That includes, but is not limited to: 

Claiming that readers of his Tune In Series may consider Klein the “hero” of the Beatles break-up

Deliberately spreading the demonstrably false lie that John (and Yoko) did not have a significant heroin problem in the late 60s and early 70s (Lewisohn suggests Cold Turkey is just John playing make believe)

Displaying unapologetic favoritism by using glowing terms to portray John and Yoko as the world’s most perfect romance, as opposed to Paul and Linda, whose 29-year marriage he dismisses as “conventional” and motivated by appearances (namely Linda’s pregnancy, even though it was planned) and Green Card needs

Stating that he could tell from watching the infamous “it’s a drag” clip that Paul was kind of sad, but primarily annoyed at how much positive attention John was getting on the day of his murder

Apparently suggesting to an audience of his Power Point Show that Paul maybe stole a leg off Yoko’s bed (the bed she had delivered and built in the Beatles’ recording studio, mind you), a personal “theory” which is based on the fact that Paul later wrote a song called “Three Legs” (you know that song: “My dog, he got three legs, like the bed you inappropriately brought into Abbey Road 2 years ago which I secretly vandalized behind your back because I have nothing better to do, am certainly not busy writing the Beatles Swan Song and don’t have a fucking 7 year old at home or anything”)

This isn’t even to mention Tune In, which could be a whole separate post and episode. Suffice it to say, this book often reads less like a Beatles biography and more like John Lennon Fanfiction to us.

Lewisohn managed to distinguish himself by doing (some) research and unearthing some original documents. That he had some skill in research is not surprising given that he started his career in Beatledom as a researcher for Norman, on his book Shout — which Lewisohn still contends is a good book. Norman, on the other hand has evolved his opinion of his own work and thinks Shout was flawed, so has written a whole biography on Paul to make up for what he sees as the failure of Shout, which is his underestimation of Paul. Unfortunately, Lewisohn does not seem to have made this same journey. He pays lip service to John and Paul being equal, and then spends all of his time and energy trying to prove otherwise. Norman says that he has created a monster in Lewisohn. We take his point.

One of our biggest issues with Lewisohn is that he vigorously promotes himself as an unbiased truth teller, and his calm manner seems to telegraph this. But it is not true. The research that Lewisohn does and the spin that he applies to his findings are all heavily biased. As we mentioned in one of our episodes, he travelled to Gibraltar simply to experience where John and Yoko got married. Yet when Paul calls the May 9th meeting over management the metaphorical cracking of the Liberty Bell, Lewisohn doesn’t even bother to Google it so he can understand the metaphor.

What he chooses to research is also a form of bias. For example, we at AKOM are very interested in Paul’s relationship with Robert Fraser during the Beatle years — since Paul has commented that Fraser was one of the most important, influential people in his life. Paul McCartney was the concept artist behind Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Magical Mystery Tour film, the iconic Apple logo, and he co-designed the covers of the White Album and Abbey Road.  All of these are pretty defining moments in the Beatles’ career.  As Beatles fans, we’d like to know more about Paul’s art education and influences. But we would be shocked if Lewisohn dug into Fraser at all beyond his relationship as John and Yoko’s gallerist/curator (and heroin dealer, but since that isn’t a thing in Lewisohn’s world then maybe he will be ignored).

We think Lewisohn benefits massively from the fact that Beatles authorship was like the Wild West since its inception, when everyone with a connection to the Beatles (plus or minus a personal axe to grind) wrote a book about their experience. It was absolute chaos, with no rules, no checks and balances, uncredited sources, etc. Just an absolute shit show.  What Lewisohn did was bring some order to the chaos with some proper documentation. But again, what he chooses to dig into often reflects bias. And this certainly does not mean that he is intellectually or emotionally equipped to interpret his findings. Doing this takes social intelligence and insight, which is a very different skill. As a creator of myths, he is no better (and no more insightful or original) than many of the others who came before him; he worships John Lennon and freely admits it. He is not even close to being unbiased.  But in this dumpster fire of a fandom he has at least checked some boxes and done some digging.  The fact is, the bar has been so low for so long that Beatles fans don’t even know how to expect or want better.  But WE certainly expect better.  We expect some breakthrough, fresh thinking.  Not just Shout with Receipts.

We think it’s significant that Lewisohn was deeply disliked by George Harrison, who lobbied to get him kicked him off the Anthology project. He was fired from Paul’s fan club magazine, and yet no one seems to think he might hold a grudge about that, too?  Lewisohn so distorted John and Paul’s relationship in Tune In that he believes he is the target of the lyrics in Paul’s song “Early Days.“  And he either thinks that’s flattering or funny, because Lewisohn seems to truly believe he knows John Lennon better than Paul McCartney does.  We find it almost tragic that Paul is so bothered by the way his experience and relationship is being portrayed by authors (perhaps Lewisohn) that he wrote a song about it. In it, he conveys his frustration and heartache about how everything is misconstrued and we find it absolutely outrageous that Lewisohn would not take this to heart.  Perhaps Lewisohn thinks Paul should listen to him for a change? And if he doesn’t like it, then tough, because Lewisohn knows better? We think Lewisohn should do some serious soul-searching about “Early Days” because if one of his main subjects is saying, “you are getting it wrong and it is breaking my heart”….maybe, just maybe, he should listen and rethink things.  Maybe apply a little creativity, out-of-the-box thinking and empathy. This is what his heroes did.

Meanwhile, Jean Jackets are SO BUSY complaining that Paul McCartney doesn’t like Lewisohn because he “tells the truth!” that they fail to notice that Lewisohn has become a mouthpiece for Yoko Ono.  He has already started white-washing John Lennon’s history, promoting John and Yoko as the true and only geniuses versus Paul as the craven, small-minded Lennon disciple who (through no virtue of his own) was born with the ability to write some nice tunes.  Lewisohn’s version of John, on the other hand, is ALWAYS a sexy, visionary genius on the right side of every issue.  He even went out of his way to recently trash Paul’s early 70’s albums, which -in addition to being obnoxious and we believe wrong (since we love them)- is totally outside his purview.

Lastly, to address your original point, Lewisohn’s claim that Klein may be viewed as the “hero” of his Beatles History reveals that he hasn’t shown sufficient empathy or interest in Paul’s experience.  This claim at best ignores and at worst condones the fact that Klein was an abusive monster to one of the two founding members of the Beatles.  As we discussed in Episode 4, Klein was a criminal who bullied Paul in his creative workspace, disrespected Paul in his own office in front of his own employees and actively pitted Lennon against McCartney for years.  It’s hard to imagine ANYONE who inflicted more damage on the Beatles and Lennon/McCartney than Allen Klein.  In addition to the wildly inappropriate “reluctant virgin” nickname, he verbally threatened to “own Paul’s ass” (to which Paul responded “he never got anywhere near my ass”). Klein was so disrespectful to Paul and Linda’s marriage he pitched the idea of procuring “a blonde with big tits” to parade in front of Paul to lure him away from Linda and destroy their relationship.  Let’s also never forget that Klein contributed lyrics to the song “How Do You Sleep.”  Allen Klein literally gave Paul nightmares.  Anyone who so much as pretends to care about Paul’s break-up era depression (including his alcohol abuse, his inability to get out of bed and his terrifying sleep paralysis) would not champion Allen Klein.

Yes, Klein is a human being and therefore has his own POV, same as anyone else.  But a Beatles biographer is beholden to four points of view only: John, Paul, George and Ringo.  And when an outsider is openly hostile to one of the Beatles and damaging long-term to all of the Beatles, it is beyond inappropriate to portray him as a hero.  This type of comment, made publicly to an audience of Beatles fans, invalidates and seeks to erase the real trauma inflicted on Paul McCartney by Allen Klein, and we think Lewisohn should apologize for his comments.

Instead, Lewisohn’s current buddy is Peter Brown, whose book, The Love You Make so offended and angered Paul and Linda that they literally burned their copy (and photographed it burning for good measure).  This information doesn’t appear to bother Lewisohn in the least. Why not?

George referred to Norman’s Shout as “Shit.” But Lewisohn thinks it’s a great book.  Why?

How any Beatles or Paul or even George fans tolerate Lewisohn is baffling to us; we don’t recognize a real human being in his version of Paul, and his version of John is a superhero rather than a man.  We suspect that fans have come to accept the traditional story and at least appreciate some properly-documented facts. 

But as we are constantly trying to demonstrate on our show, just because the story has always been told one way, doesn’t mean it’s right.  Because in the end, Mark Lewisohn has no special insight. He wasn’t there. He is a guy who bought into a narrative during the Shout era, and is cherry picking his findings to support it.You can find a discussion of Lewisohn here

[hysteriium]

Dazzling Devil;

(A/N): I made this for @jokerfleckk​ because she had an amazing idea and I couldn’t resist???? Also just want to say @pennyship​ is my BABE AND I LOVE HER SM FOR GOING OVER THIS BEFORE I POSTED!

Summary: Literally rewrote the whole Murray sequence lol rip. 

Pairing: Joker x reader

Warnings: smutty themes (not entirely), violence, swearing! 

////

Anxiously, you tugged at the threading of your dress. The loose strings which, although hidden for the most part, twisted between your relentless digits, acting as an escape from the simmering pressure of your surroundings. Though, as the enthusiastic, high-spirited melody of the live band, to your right, resonated in one explosive blow, this momentary retreat was short-lived. 

“We’re back with our guest, Dr. (L/n)!” 

His introduction speedily brought you back to reality, and you promptly dropped the hem of your dress, eyes snapping towards him. 

“Now!” Murray paused, immediately, turning to you.

His expression was beaming as he leaned forward in his chair, “you gotta see our next guest for yourself. Will you stick around? Maybe you can help, I’m pretty sure he could use a doctor.”

“Oh,” you paused, brows furrowing, “does he have sexual problems?” 

“He looks like he’s got a lot of problems.” Murray retorted, and you internally cringed at his mocking tone. You weren’t sure who his next ‘guest’ was, though if what Murray said was in some way true, you couldn’t imagine being ridiculed for it made the mystery guest very happy. 

The audience, as always, laughed.

“You’ll see,” he grinned, pointing towards one of the monitors. 

“Play the clip!” 

Everyone, the audience included, watched as the monitor transitioned from Murray to a man on stage. In what you assumed was provoked by his nervousness, sweat coated his forehead, trailing down his face.  

It quickly became apparent that the man had pseudobulbar affect, a condition while you knew of, weren’t particularly acquainted with – your field mainly contrived of sex therapy. 

You watched, sadly entranced, as his hands desperately clenched at his throat, trying to force his planned jokes out, only for a flurry of broken phrases to wryly pass his lips. Composing himself appeared to be an arduous task, and the dread that built up at the sight of those making fun of him, of those laughing, neared its peak. The sensation was a prominent discomfort in your gut; his suffering was deemed as a hilarity – an oddity to poke fun at – and you were the only one who empathised; who understood the anguish lost in the gloss of his eyes. Murray was wrong for making fun of this man, wrong for making fun of someone who had a condition. 

As you gazed at the audience’s thundering hysterics in shame – reflecting on the filth Gotham had become, the video ended shortly after. Murray’s voice returned once more. 

“Okay, you may have seen that clip of our next guest when we first played it two weeks ago. Now before he comes out, I just want to say that we’re all heartbroken and sensitive to what’s going on here in the city. But, honestly, I think we’re in need of a good laugh, and this is how he wanted to come out. So, please welcome, Joker!” 

On cue, the audience prompts flashed, begging for applause. The public complied and projected their excitement while the band played its specific introductory piece.  

A man strutted on stage, and an abundance of adjectives filled your mind. ‘Colourful’ had been one among the heavy flow, ‘confident’ was another and following short behind, dare you say, ‘magnetic.’

Within nanoseconds, your eyes had snapped to the male, drinking in his features. Even though they were hidden behind a thick coat of white greasepaint, as well as the ever so widespread symbolism of the clownish makeup, it wasn’t hard for you to conclude that the man who prowled his way on stage in an ostentatious manner, like a lion, was damn near gorgeous. The clip truly hadn’t done him justice.   

‘Joker’ as Murray had called him, was a name which failed to relinquish its robust hold on your thoughts; a metronome – repetitious and in tune. 

With a certain finesse, the man, after flicking his cigarette behind him uncaringly, propelled himself to his right in a series of twirls. His striking pine green hair floated behind him, and the carmine jacket followed similarly. 

Joker’s entrance secretly had you squirming in your seat. 

It was something you hated to admit, let alone acknowledge. You barely knew the guy – yet there was something about him that had you aching for more. Maybe it was the air of danger which stuck to him like a potent kind of glue, fabricating his demeanour. Or perhaps it was how those frozen eyes snapped towards you; harsh and determined, forcing you to scramble up from your seat. 

Shit, maybe you needed a doctor. 

You didn’t have time to dwell on it because once he halted the rhythmic snapping of his fingers and shook Murray’s hand, he strode right for you. The flickering twitch of his right eyebrow, complemented with his heart-stopping grin, was the last visible feature of his face as he grabbed your own with large, delicate hands. 

When he so unexpectedly pressed his painted lips to yours, you glaciated. Slender were his digits, majority sliding behind your ear, while his ring and pinky pressed up against the distinctive bone of your cheeks. His thumbs occasionally stroked the skin of your neck obliging a deep, thrilling, full-bodied shiver.

Immediately, the peculiar tang of his face paint flooded your senses, and this only worsened when you kissed back. Eyes long since fluttered shut, you felt his surprise when you responded, a gentle vibration – a grunt – tingling against your lips. The fury of the crowd’s applause, wolf whistles and shouts included, were lost on you as you focused on the softness of Joker’s lips, his rhythm slow and sensual, taking their time to sync with yours. 

When he suddenly pulled you closer to him, a sultry growl left his lips; a noise riddled with an enticing hunger. No longer were those hands at your chin, they had slithered down your body, seizing your waist with an abrasive squeeze. 

To say your body was on fire was an understatement. 

You’re unsure as to whether Joker had noticed the applause dramatically stop at his bold movements, the room worryingly silent except for the occasional awkward cough. To this, you were conscious of, very much so, but the lingering exhilaration coursing through you like a fever – at the prospect of millions of eyes watching the two of you clinging to each other – had you grinding against him. It was a move equally as brazen, though one he was equivalently pleased at; reciprocating. As he pushed up against you, a muffled moan left your stained lips, swollen, as you felt the outline of his stiffened cock in his trousers. You were completely, and utterly, devoid of shame.   

What you were both unaware of, however, were the producers signing desperately to cut the show. Many, too shocked, upon weirded out to do so, had missed the infamous ‘t’ signal, hypnotised by the bizarre scene ahead. 

Fuck you, Murray.

When you opened your mouth a little wider, Joker, not missing a beat slid his tongue past, hardly asking permission. Well and truly, the slickness between your legs had built up, and you were hyper-aware of it pooling in your panties. Giddiness was hardly the feeling you would associate with your shared moment, more accurately a carnal lust; a need displayed in the fervid movement of your leg and how it moved against his hip. The very same hands which were once gentle, eagerly maneuvered to your thigh, supporting the limb. Then, without warning – the other. 

The swift movement had you breaking away from the man – only for a second – with a titter. Furious steps, which sounded more like stumbles, filled the silent room, then a frantic voice.

“We’ll be right back folks!” 

At this, Joker, with a dramatic roll of his eyes, pulled away to look at the hollering mystery man. His make up was smudged beyond belief – namely his lips, though his sinful grin seemed to be something that couldn’t be rubbed off. When he directed his attention back to you, his tongue trailed over his teeth, placing you down. With a dangerous glint in his eye, he turned towards the audience, adjusting his waistcoat and his lapels. 

“Y-you – uh – alright...doctor?” Murray asked you, bewildered. 

You refused to look at Murray, while you were red-faced and fidgety, it was hardly because you were embarrassed. 

Joker’s eyes hadn’t left yours as his nose wrinkled in laughter. 

////

If you knew of the events which would inevitably transpire that night, there would have been a small part of you that wished you never met Joker. That you were never given the opportunity to swallow the pill that so willingly established your addiction. He was unlike any man you had met before. 

Wild, eccentric, unafraid.

Mysterious. 

Curiosity killed the cat, however, and before you knew it, you were at Joker’s side. The havoc of the studio was nothing compared to the blaze raging within his eyes. He was chaos, beauty and grace – a madman all wrapped into one. 

His hand reached out to yours, Murray’s bloodied corpse an afterthought. The Joker, who had thrown the gun somewhere, a move similar to the cigarette he had tossed prior, was void of concern. While you had been shocked at the violent move, Murray’s blood splattering across your dress, a morbid interest had you reach out for him.

His exuberance, almost child-like, heightened when you interlaced your hands together. Yet to depart from the camera’s view, he pulled you up from your seat and spun you around, then, finally dipped you. His hands had once again snaked your waist. His lips were mere centimetres from yours as his breath, warm, tingled against yours; teasing. You wanted to kiss them again – badly – and you knew he could tell from the wicked grin contorting his face. 

Oh, how absolutely enthralled you were.   

“Burn Gotham with me,” he whispered.

It was almost comedic. The way that poisonous phrase was uttered like it had in fact been something so innocuous, the way his eyes glistened with a newfound hope; hell, you would have thought he had asked you to prom. 

Perhaps a demagogue, perhaps not; what you did know was that he had changed Gotham. Propelled it into chaos with the deaths of those three men. Tension had been building up for God knew how long, but he had been the catalyst for the end. Gotham had finally reached its boiling point. 

Without thinking, you breathed an agreement. 

And, at that moment, you had sold your soul. 

To the dazzling devil.

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Dancing lessons

Barry Berkman x reader

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, guns, cheating maybe.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 2

One week after the first time Barry meet Y/N he was nowhere near learning tango, let alone dancing on the level his stupid resume said he could, he only have ended with horrible pain on his knees, thighs and back. And he hasn't even practice dancing with music yet, apparently his instructor thought he first had to learn one basic step and repeat it a million times before he could start doing the "flashy and presumptuous" step, as she called them, that the director may want.

"You really don't have to worry" Sally said during breakfast, they have an agreement to spend the night at least twice a week in each other apartment but he could tell she rather if he stayed at hers since Jermaine and Nick didn't get along with her. "That girl you say is dancing with you, I just heard from Lindsay that she is totally sleeping with the director so probably the scene is an excuse to show her dancing talent and they will be focusing on her instead of you" She drank the rest of her orange juice and stood up quickly "God is so late" she checked her phone and gave him a kiss on the cheek before taking her purse and keys and rush to the door "I'll see you tonight ok? Good luck!"

"Bye, I love..." And then she was gone. "You" He finished his breakfast and took his own car to the studio where he had to finish filming his scenes.

"Barry you're here, excellent!" Andre said when he arrived, thankfully he was not the star of the film and he didn't have to listen the hundred of notes he had for the leads nor taking all the shit the PAs get from him. "Look" He said pointing at his tablet "Janice is on New York for three more weeks for a Ballet presentation, but she sent this to me, is the perfect choreography for the scene. What do you think?" He showed her a clip of Janice and some professional dancer with a song he didn't knew, probably in Spanish or Italian, dancing incredibly close, with several lifts and spins.

"Great" He said feeling dizzy "Flashy and presumptuous" He add really low.

"What was that?"

"Classy and marvelous, is a modern take on the Argentine style isn't?" He said repeating what Y/N had said to him the day before.

"I have no idea, but hey you are the expert" He gave him a pat on the back. "You can start rehearsing with Janice when she gets back" He didn't like that kind of touching, it reminded him of Fuches and make him feel uneasy.

"Sure, great, hey could you send me that video, you know to study her movements" he tried to sound casual and not frightened as he was.

"Yeah sure" he said and with a hand gesture urged him to move to the set where he got to start shooting.

The minute he was over he drove back to Y/N's studio and saw her giving her class to young girls all dressed as ballerinas, she was wearing a black seetrough dancing skirt over a leotard, and his eyes lingered on her legs a few seconds more than he should mesmerized as he was by the elegance she used to dance.

"Barry you are early" She saluted him with a smile, "Girls say hi to Mr. Block" she said at the mass of pink and white.

"Hi Mr. Block" They cheered.

"I'll be done in a few minutes but this really is a private rehearsal" She pat her lips with one finger thinking "Would you mind waiting upstairs? I mean I would hate for you to drive back home to come back in less than an hour, and the coffee place on this block sucks" She said and the girls start laughing "Don't tell your mothers" She quickly add.

"I don't want to be a burden"

"Oh nonsense, you are not, go upstairs, I have food on the fridge but I wouldn't recommend it since you are dancing later and the WiFi password is written next to the phone" She insisted and he finally accept.

The apartment was just a little bigger than the one he rented with Jermaine and had a nice walls on a blue shade that reminded him of the ocean. And a big window facing directly to the door, so the first thing you see when you entered were the rooftop of other buildings and the hills in the back.

He entered feeling himself as an intruder, but being honest that was a common feeling for him, even if he haven't break in any place in over a year, a very long year, and again the pain of thinking of Fuches maybe lurking around strike him in the chest.

He found a place to sit and after being 5 minutes in complete silence trying to not be alone with his thoughts he took out his laptop to watch the dance again. Next to the landline was a nice picture of Y/N on his wedding dress next to a man that must be her husband with golden letters and numbers written over: JPTLV150813.

Once he was connected he allow himself to look around, the living room was tastefully decorated and there were some framed paintings of wild flowers on the wall in purples and pinks. He glance at their dinner table in the other room next to her kitchen, and while he was still holding he picture his mind start wandering, maybe Sally would like to live with him in a place like that. Full of light and peaceful.

He picture himself waking every morning and walking towards the kitchen to make her breakfast, she getting out of the set exhausted, to get a glass of wine in the living room. Reading lines together in the couch, and falling asleep there watching a movie.

And then since he hadn't sleep wery well and Y/N couch was madly comfortable he fall asleep still holding the picture and suddenly Sally's face start fading away, and Y/N replaced her, in a blue version of the clothes she was wearing earlier, he saw himself dancing with her on the living room, a slow and romantic rhythm, and instead of her husband it was him smiling on the picture next to the phone. She would come upstairs tired from work and he would stop her at the door to give her a passionate kiss... then the sound of a gun going off came from the window and a blood stain start forming in her chest running and she collapsing on his arms, and then it was Sally lifeless body again who he was holding and she whispered before losing her breath You did this and fearful he looked at his own hand holding the gun...

"Barry?" Y/N's voice came from the door, and immediately woke up and shake those horrifying ideas from his mind.

"Here" He call from the couch and was careful enough to not look back and don't picture her covered in blood

"I'm so done, boy I'm glad you came upstairs, Amanda's mother is a pain in the ass, if she have seen you she would have called the cops or something" She said and sit in next of him, she was already wearing the heels she used to practice with him. "What you got there?" She said looking at the screen where the video of Janice was still on.

"Is the dance I'm supposed to do for the movie" He said glad to have something to said and he showed her the clip.

"Well... you are screwed" She said after it was finish and he gave her an imploring look. "I'm kidding, I mean is a monstrosity of showing off, and her technique is not perfect, but I'm pretty sure you can put together something, like Ed Sheeran on Thinking out loud". She said confidently.

"Who?" He asked with no idea of what she meant.

"He is a British singer, we are probably too old to know him, but couples come all the time trying to learn his routine for their wedding" She said, but his face was still puzzled "You are not very familiar with pop culture, for an actor living in L.A. I mean" She stood up and walked towards her kitchen "Do you want anything? I have wine, beer, orange juice?" She called from the other room.

"Beer is fine, and is because I only became an actor recently" He said with some embarrassment in his voice taking the bottleshe offered him "I used to amm... sell auto parts in Cleveland"

"Ohio, that's ... far" she said taking a sip of her drink.

"And before that I was a Marine" He add and she almost spit her beer but did her best to pass it down.

"Oh wow, that's unusual. I would definitely say thank you for your service, but I'm antiwar so what if I gave you a 10 percent off on the lessons and we call it even?" She grin at him

"Don't worry about that, I don't like to make a big deal about it anyway" He said sincerely "Also I'm pretty sure you are wasting your time with me"

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, here look" She took the laptop off his hands and found a video of a ginger man singing a cheezy song about eternal love "See he is not properly dancing, but he act like he is, so first you have to learn how to lead, come on take off your shoes"

"Take them off? Why?" He asked while she got rid off her heels and let her bare feet touch the wooden floor.

"Because, and I mean this with respect" She said standing and looking for a record to put in her old record player until she found one "You are huge, and I'm afraid you would step on me with those shoes" a slow rhythm start playing and he did what she asked and stood barefoot in front of her.

"That doesn't sound like the other songs" Although he like it.

"Because you have to learn to walk before you can run, now, put both of your hands on my hips" She said getting closer to him.

"Like this?" It was funny how without the heels she was way shorter and couldn't completely reach her neck so she settled for put both hands on his shoulders.

"Fine now listen to the music and move" She said moving her body rhythmically "There you go, now move me, lead, right or left, is your choice" She said letting him take small steps and occasionally looking down to watch his feet.

"This is not that bad actually" Barry was actually enjoying himself, then the music start going faster and she took his right hand on hers and pull away from him and he chose to ignore the feeling of lost that caused him.

"Now, the hand on my back has to be steady, and lead, we can spin" She said and taught him how "Or we can walk" She started walking back slowly letting him follow the steps at his own pace. "Is all about who is leading" She gave him a smile and they kept dancing until the music was ending and since he had confidence now he make her spin and catch her on his arm like Janice's partner did on the clip.

"Sorry I always wanted to try that" he said once she was standing next to him.

"It was great, you are getting it, now we can try to improve your actual steps, but we should go downstairs, my husband is about to comeback and he hates having music on when he is working" She put on her shoes again and walked out followed by Barry.

[watchmegetobsessed]

The Long Way Home // Shawn Mendes - part 2

hope you like the story, im having more and more fun with writing it!

Part 1

masterlist

I do grocery shopping early in the morning not wanting too many people to see me around the neighborhood. The nearby Walmart is basically empty and 6.30 am and the elderly cashier woman couldn’t give less fuck about who she is talking to. Once I’m back home I get changed and go for a quick run on the beach, just to have a look around and get my blood pumping for my first official day here. Running in the sand is making me work hard and by the time I finish my lap I can feel my thighs throbbing. I’m panting heavily as I reach my neighbor’s house and switch to walking. The deck is empty, all the blinds are drawn, no sign of her. My mind is still running about her familiarity, but I still haven’t figured out who she is and how I might now her. I spend the rest of the day in the studio room shutting the world out. It’s around eight when I come out of the house again, just in time for another sunset. I make a cup of tea and make myself comfortable on the ground, mentally noting to buy some furniture for the deck. I might as well leave them once I’m gone, but I could really use some seats out here.

The sun is halfway hidden behind the water when I see movements in the corner of my eyes. I turn to the right and see her again. She is wrapped into a grey blanket, her hair looks the same, kind of even messier than yesterday and this time she has a mug in her hands. She sits down on the steps and stares blankly into the distance, just like yesterday.

She probably didn’t notice me and I debate if I should go over again or not. I really want to find out why she looks so familiar and if maybe I knew her name it would finally click. So I decide to go for it again.

Luckily she is kind of zoned out and doesn’t notice me until I almost reach her deck. She jumps a little when she sees me walking towards her, almost spilling her drink. She stands up, but I speak up before she could escape again.

“Hey! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I say with a warm smile, trying to look as friendly as possible. She doesn’t answer, just stares at me intensely as I finally reach her deck. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ll be spending the summer here. I’m Shawn.” I stop at the steps looking up at her, but her expressions doesn’t loosen up. I look into her green eyes and can’t not notice the dark circles under them that have me wondering what she does that keeps her up all night. She looks skinny, her hands are bony, fingers long without any color on the nails. She doesn’t look like the kind of girl who does hours long glams every day.

I feel like she is not going to say anything, but then she speaks up.

“Okay.”

That’s all she says and suddenly I feel extremely awkward. She doesn’t even want to say her name and I basically feel like she wants me out of her property, but I need to know her name at least.

“And you are…” I try, which clearly is pissing her off and doesn’t want to answer. “Look, I’m sorry if you don’t like famous people, but I swear I didn’t come here to get into trouble. I’m just trying to get away from the world for the summer. I swear I won’t cause any trouble around here.”

“You better not, because I don’t need the attention.”

Her reply is spicy, making it clear that she is not a fan of mine or anyone who is famous.

“Okay,” I chuckle awkwardly, feeling like I’ve definitely overstayed my non-existent welcome. “Can I at least get your name?”

“Look, I’m not trying to get friends around here, okay? We won’t go jogging together, watch the sunset or paint the view sitting on the deck. I’m here to be alone, so don’t count on having a buddy in your neighbor.”

I’m kind of speechless, her dry reply just hits me hard in the head and I don’t know what to say. For such a pretty girl she has a pretty sassy, kind of rude attitude.

“I was just asking for your name. No need to bite my head off,” I say, still not over her behavior.

“I’m Sloan. Thanks for coming over, but I have something to do now. Bye,” she snaps before turning around and walking into the house, shutting the door behind her.

I stand completely frozen for a couple of moments before I manage to move my legs and leave. I slowly walk back to my house and halfway I stop and glance back. I see the curtains move in one of the windows so I know she has been watching me and I just can’t really figure out where to put this conversation in my mind.

Sloan. She definitely doesn’t want to be good neighbors, I mean I wasn’t planning on making a new best friend, but we could have hung out a few times, I was hoping to have her watch over the house when I’ll be gone, but she definitely doesn’t want to stay in contact with me. And her name didn’t even help me figure out why she looks familiar, but seeing her up close just strengthened the feeling inside me.

  “You really didn’t go too overboard with this house,” Brian comments as he looks around in the living room and the kitchen.

“Why would I need more? It’s just me here.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a big change after the hotel suits and luxury apartments,” he shrugs plopping down to the couch, making himself comfortable. I grab two beers from the fridge and join him handing his drink. “Thanks.”

“I’m perfectly fine with it.”

“I know, you are going back to your roots, finding yourself and all the shit,” he mocks me rolling his eyes, but I know he is just joking, so I just shake my head laughing.

We stay silent as he continues observing his surroundings. The place is quite cozy, that’s one of the reasons why I like it. Every piece of furniture seems to be so different, but at the end it looks great together. It’s a nice mixture of vintage and modern that goes perfect with the view over the deck.

I catch Brian staring out the window and I know he is a sucker for a nice walk at the beach but would never admit he likes all these cliché stuff.

“Wanna go for a walk?” I ask and watch his eyes light up.

“Sure!”

With our cold beers in our hands we leave our shoes behind and take the beach barefoot. The wind is messing our hair up, but luckily it’s not cold.

“So, how is writing?” he casually asks.

I know everyone is worried, I would be too. A year ago I wrote two songs a day. Being on tour gave me so much inspiration, but soon my mind got blocked. I didn’t talk about it for a long time, everyone thought things are going well, but then I had nothing to present at the meetings, studio sessions became painful as I couldn’t get one song done in weeks. The team sat me down one day and I told them how I’ve been feeling. The past two years have been too suffocating, I was always on the road basically until I was so exhausted I couldn’t get out of bed. It’s not like I was forced, it was more like my own, inner motor pushing me. I felt like if I don’t do everything right now I might not be able to do it later.

Andrew cancelled half of my plans after that, I spent a week at home, just rewiring my mind and I realized this is what I need. I have to take a few steps back, spend some time alone and get everything in my mind straight and just think about everything that has happened.

“It’s fine. I started a song, but I’ve been here only for two days.”

“You sure being alone is doing good to you?”

“Yes, Brian. And tell this to Andrew as well. He is texting me every hour to check in on me. I’m not a baby,” I chuckle.

“I know! We are just worried about you.” He holds up his hands, clipping the beer between his thumb and pointing finger.

“Worry less, I’m doing fine.”

He stops and turns to me with a serious face and I know he is talking for real this time.

“We just don’t want to see you go where you were in 2018.”

“I won’t,” I reply right away. I promised myself I would never go there again.

“Alright, I trust you,” he smiles at me patting my shoulder before we start walking again. “Oh, you have a neighbor!” he points out nodding in the direction of the little blue house.

Sloan is out on the deck, she is wearing a huge, black hoodie with no pants, she is barefoot, as always and her hair is finally let down. It’s longer than I thought, almost reaches her waist.

“Yeah, she is not a fan of mine,” I scoff taking a sip from my beer. Brian is watching her, he is squinting his eyes as he tries to take a better look at her as she throws a few towels over the railing of her deck.

“You talked to her?”

“Yes, and she made it clear she doesn’t want to be my friendly neighbor.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sloan.”

“Dude, no way!” His eyes widen as he glances at me and then back in her direction. When she is done with the last towel she walks back into the house.

“What?”

“You didn’t recognize her?” he gasps and I shake my head no. “That’s Sloan Westbury!”

“Who?” I ask as my mind is slowly putting the pieces together. The familiar face, the name…

“Shawn, she is Sloan Westbury, the Disney girl who went nuts last year.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper as realization hits me.

I know now, this is why she looked so familiar, I’ve seen her on TV so many times. Last year, when I was touring the press was all up in her ass. She had numerous scandals, wild parties and nude photoshoots, people were judging her every step right until she deleted all her social media profiles and just… disappeared.

“She was rude because she thought I would bring attention to her again,” I realize as I stare in her house’s direction.

It’s all clear now.

[berlinner]

This is a photo of some of the cast/ crew that my friend, Barry Keating (choreographer of Orchestra Luna) emailed me today. The participants in the Frank Height unfinished (we were busted and put in jail) movie, The Sad Eyed Lady. In Grenada West Indies. Below is what I wrote about it in #THEPARAGRAPHS. With Francesca Reitano (sitting next to me with cliche hippie beard, hair), Janie Hannigan (the muse/star of the whole deal), Helen Spielman (Helen Of Troy Eleanor Rosevelt Neilson Parker). It was also the very first time I ever played my songs with other musicians (LSD may or may not have helped).VERY LONG STORY:

BUSTED IN GRENADA1970. learning to act at the Yale Drama School (same time Meryll was there). starting to hate it. the perpetual ‘one’s body and one’s self is one’s ‘instrument’ and one needs to practice ‘it’ all the time’ was turning me inside out: ‘practicing’ accents, facial tics, postures. my friends wondered what- the-fuck was going on with Kinscherf? why does he seem so fake? when i heard that a friend of a friend of mine, a pot dealer from Amherst College, was shooting a movie in the West Indies and that i could have a part, it was the nudge i needed. i dropped out of Yale and got my pal Francesca to hop on the bus, bounce outta New Haven and fly on Amherst’s dime to the Caribbean. tough call, right? we taxied cross-island to one of several pink bungalow beach houses, were given our own rooms, our own Vespa scooters, our own cars to share andall the food, booze and drugs we could foie-gras-choke down. our homework the first week: ‘familiarize’ ourselves with the island. this meant getting stoned, drunk, tripped-out and pirate tanned on our own private postcard-perfect beach. twocrescent halves forming a white sand/black sand middle finger insinuating out into the Gulf with a chubby lighthouse at the fingernail tip. its beacon—a favorite LSD drop spot where kaleidoscopic film clips spit-fired out of gonzo foreheads. deep in the jungle we skinny-dipped in waterfalls, parrots swooping overhead, banana clusters plopping like puppies into our sated laps. seafood spreads and rum cocktails paraded on the cheap in open air St. Georges casbahs. natives laughing (at us? with us?). this was paradise and it was all ours all the time. one week in and against the inky blue-black of a starry starry night a sailboat, our sailboat, the schooner Janeen (re-named and re-painted The Sad-Eyed Lady) edged past the psychedelic lighthouse and dropped anchor in our tiny personal bay. a two-masted monster, tip top lights winking, full crew in dress whites, galley with a chef from Paris, lobster, steak and champagne on ice—the works. we were oared out to eat, drink, smoke, dance, whatever, not caring what-the-fuck this movie was about or when we would begin to shoot it. we were surfing an infinite rainbow. being here now was an induced reality. one night our main man from Amherst gathered us round and told a story, obliquely and slo-mo stoned. the plot: we were 21st-century pirates chasing leftover refugees after an earth kill nuclear freeze. our orders: seize any ship or person caught in the crosshairs. that was it?! who cared? we were down for the count. i became ‘lookout,’ awarded an all brass telescope which i polished obsessively and had macraméd bya Grenadian hippie so that i could wear it like cutlass. arrgh! i loved the thing. wore it all over the place, ‘getting intocharacter’ drug-induced Actor’s Studio-style. the first shoton the first day was of me, naked, at the top of the mid-mast spyglass-spotting a mom-‘n-dad sloop with a teenage daugh- ter who was booty bounty. that girl, Janie, was (not certain about this) the girlfriend of our benefactor and possibly the muse for his film-to-be. but who knew about anything for sure? i can’t emphasize enough that we were, most of us most of the time, skyscraper high on vitamin LSD. that first dayof the shoot i saw below my dangling legs, a deck so minia- turized it looked like a toy boat bobbing in a bathtub. when we cut through a 50-yard-diameter-dart-board oil slick so astonishingly beautiful my eyeballs hurt, i wanted to dive into the shimmering bull’s eye and shape-shift onto a mountaintop in Nepal. seriously. at night we skinny-dipped in a phospho- rescent sea so manifest that swimming felt like flying. or like finger painting. we’d anchor in St. George’s harbor, motor a dingy into town and get more fucked up and more outrageous by the minute. we set up a full band on deck and blasted end- less iterations of ‘Satisfaction’ ‘cross town, our girls topless. usually topless. all this behavior occurring without complaint. case in point: a young chiquita, a Grenadian, had herself rowed out to The Sad-Eyed Lady to see what was happening. just a kid, no more than 16 wearing a sequined Carmen Miranda pineapple turban with three rattlesnake maracas in each tight fist, eyes flashing. her name, i kid you not, Helen Of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Nielson. her mom, a Grenadian, her dad a shipping baron from across the pond in Holland. Helen glommed onto us like a starfish, flitting in and out of our orbit and adjusting to our weirdness as best she could. as did handsome Australian sailor boys who, like us, wanted to gulp down the full feast of booze, weed, acid and hash that was all over the compound. 20th-century world-weary refugees who pulled into Port Wherever, worked, partied, fucked and then, after they had enough, hired onto a new rig, a new ocean,a new port. ‘round and ‘round the globe—a moveable feast, Aussie style. as much as any time in our lives this was heaven on earth, wild, heart-throbbing freedom all too soon to end. around the third/fourth day of the filming as i was monkeying about in the rigging, the one boat Grenadian ‘Navy’ putt-putted into our slip stream, armed and megaphoned. the charges: drugs and nudity. both true. we were whisked off the Janeen, driven to a dank, up-island prison (nerves on edge now that the drugs and booze had worn off) and dumped into a two-room, cinder-block jailhouse. boys in one hole, girls in the other. tin buckets to piss and shit in. the trial set for the next day. one minute, drug blind in our pre-fab nirvana, the next, incarcerated. and the next? court. would we be trapped and raped here for life? not to be. lucky result: Helen of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Neilson’s cousin, a guy named Maurice, signed on as our defense. he painted us as unwitting victims from good, American homes having innocent fun who had been caught at an awkward, unguarded moment. we were on a plane early the next morning. Helen came along for ride. she got married in Boston a few weeks later and became Helen of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Nielson Parker—my dad Dick, her best man. the rest of us fled to a house by a river in Greenfield, MA, paid for and outfitted, again, by our pirate king. the plan: start a band and get famous fast. more acid, more weed, more insanity until one night, driving back from Janie’s house, i saw flames roman-candling the night sky. Plan 2, a one and done. coda: our lawyer, Maurice, was elected Prime Minister of Grenada. in 1983, the island was invaded by Castro Cubans and Maurice was assassinated. Reagan sent in the Marines making tiny war history. i moved to Somerville, started my first band, Orchestra Luna and wound up living in the same damn town for the next 40-plus. no more Kerouac road trips. coup de gras? Helen is now Helen Of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Nielson Parker Spielman and lives in Hawaii. the movie? atrophying in a freezer somewhere in Brooklyn.

[pop-punklouis]

hilarious that you’re a fan of someone so basic as charlie puth when you’re a music reviewer and tend to be real pompous about music and talent lmao

yoooo i usually don’t reply to messages of this caliber at all anymore about mostly anything lmao regardless not sure where you’re getting me being pompous about my music taste at whenever i’ve never been shy about part of my heart belonging to garbage pop music

but, i’m choosing to respond to this predominantly because this isn’t the first time i’ve seen people lump charlie puth into the ‘basic popstar’ category when i don’t think they’re actually aware of his talent and musical intellect? and it’ll bug me if i don’t expand on it lol

I’m no charlie puth blog by any means, and tbh i wasn’t even aware he existed up until 7 months ago beyond that horrid song “we don’t talk anymore” that was played everywhere, but he’s a virtuoso, and i don’t believe that is publicly discussed enough? 

The dude has perfect pitch. Only 1 out of 10,000 are even born with it. Relative pitch is as close as one can get to it, but Absolute pitch is only obtained by genetics. Those who have perfect pitch can translate any sound into a musical note. They don’t need a reference tone or anything to process a sound and what it would crossover as in music. It’s fucking nuts. If you’ve never been around someone who has perfect pitch then you don’t understand how completely wild it is. It’s just this really rare auditory phenomenon that allows someone to recreate sounds like how an artist would paint a portrait. There have been several instances that showcase Charlie’s experience having it:

(”the bus engine is making a b flat” jesus man)

(Just casually composing songs in a notebook through musical notes like he’s writing the ABCs. Eleven (11) years old, and he is able to transfer the sounds in his head to paper with no training or guidance. Ridiculous)

Furthermore, he’s a classically trained musician. Like, he’s trained in jazz. He started studying it at age 10. From 13-18 he was accepted into and attended Manhattan’s music conservatory pre-college where he was able to focus his craft in jazz piano and minor in classical studies and composition. When he went on to college, he still eyed jazz’s foundation. I know I poke fun at his live shows for being Panera Bread Live on Tour because he has several jazz elements he implements into the performances, but that’s literally what he’s been trained in his whole life lol 

Not to mention he graduated from Berklee which is a feat all in itself. He got a degree in music engineering and production that requires heavy knowledge in the art to even obtain. But, he’s been doing similar shit since he was basically 10 when he was gifted his first studio set-up so lol

Career-wise, he’s co-written, composed, and produced several songs for big entertainers like Thomas Rhett, Trey Songz, Zara Larsson, Maroon 5, Jason Derulo, and Liam Payne which is incredibly impressive for his age and experience in the industry 

Regarding the production and creation process, the way he speaks about it is like hearing someone speak latin. It’s completely mad. You can tell how versed he is about the process with how casually he talks about it even though it sounds like absolute rocket science. He often describes it as “geeking-out” but it’s truly just preposterous. In connection, watching him put the process together is as if you’re watching sorcery. it is utterly fascinating. I’ve included some clips of him demonstrating/discussing the process because it is definitely a trip:

(This interview gives great insight into how Voicenotes came to be about halfway through. The way he talks about the process of creating ‘patient’ is astounding.)

(This video is now unlisted, so it isn’t searchable on youtube anymore but i remember the first time i watched this and how remarkable it was to me. I dunno just how quickly and easily Charlie makes a halfway decent bop with just his keyboard and Sudeikis’ vocals is ridiculous. 

So, I dunno I believe the reason I’m more vocal about my enjoyment of his music (BOY should win a grammy) is because of how endlessly intrigued i am by his talent and musical prowess. I think a big reason why people are so quick to dismiss his talent and presence is that they cast judgment on his past work and similarity in foundation his songs have (which is understandable because his debut LP is complete garbage in comparison to Voicenotes but it’s worth noting that he was not a pilot for most any production or sound that went into his debut which is obvious by the juxtaposition of sound on his sophomore effort which was produced almost solely by himself from his home studio) instead of analyzing why it’s such a clever move for him to choose to cater his music to the mainstream audience. 

Like forementioned, he’s classically trained. He is completely capable of composing music and creating intricate elements in songs that would be appreciated and heard by musical experts and professionals. But, he is purposely choosing to water-down his craft and creating music that relates to the masses because he knows it’ll get him the most exposure and commercial gain as an artist which is literally just him playing the game welcome to the entertainment industry lol. So, it is extremely crafty for him to choose the direction that mainstream music is heading to reach that recognition and type of sucess he’s aiming for instead of only producing work for a niche group ya know? 

Charlie Puth is a musical prodigy, and i don’t shy away from using that label. The way his mind works with and processes music is complete insanity. I’ve never seen anyone do what he does. So, yes, I understand where the stereotyping comes from with lumping him into the ‘basic popstar’ category of musician, but that received idea is absurd to me knowing not only the talent and skillset he posesses but the work ethic he has. He is a distinct artist in the industry right now, and i wish that was more publicized instead of the conventional image they brand him with. 

Regardless, garbage pop music in general  has its place and i’ll never be ashamed for liking it for what it is  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[aperfectsummerrae]

Catching Fish

INVOLVED: Summer Sanders and Erica Rose TIME FRAME: Tuesday Night, February 11, 2020 LOCATION: Lock and Key; Los Angeles, California SUMMARY: Since it’s been so long since they last hung out, Summer and Erica head to one of their old spots, Lock and Key. The two talk and laugh before Erica gets picked up by a one Josiah Richmond and Summer leaves Erica to it.

Summer licked her painted lips as she swung her hair over her shoulder, stepping out of the cab in the heels that she had bought from that boutique. She pulled her jeans up in the back and looked back at Erica, holding her hand out to her friend to help her out the back of the cab. “Lock & Key,” she breathed out as they stood outside the building that didn’t really look like much. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” she admitted as she moved for the hidden entrance. “Do you remember which key is it?” she asked curiously.

Erica shifted to follow Summer out of the cab, she gave her a hand as she climbed out. “Whew,” she said, lord she was getting old. She adjusted her slinky top and brushed her long and wild weave back over her shoulders as she tugged her pants up, fixing them a bit. “Oh honey,” she said giving the girl an unease look “I wish I could tell you,” she said seriously as she looked at her with amusement.

Summer let out a laugh at Erica’s words and she let out a sigh. “Well this ought to be interesting,” she said smirking as she made way towards the door, pulling it open swiftly. She held it open for Erica before she moved in behind the girl. Walking down the long corridor, Summer eyed a few people up ahead of them, clearly dressed for the speakeasy and she said, “Look at God,” as she pointed ahead. “We can just slip in with them,” she said with a chuckle as she picked up her pace in the heels a bit, shocked that they were actually comfortable.

Erica looked to Summer apologetically as they moved into the building. She walked behind her, adjusting the clip in her half up, half down hairstyle. She had on stilettos there was no way her thick frame was going to chase behind Summer’s slimmer one. “I’m coming,” she told her, even as she continued to strut down the walkway headed behind Summer as she swung her purse.

Summer looked back at Erica smirking as she ran after the group ahead of them, catching the door before it shut, locking them out. She grabbed the knob just in time and swung the door back open, holding it open for Erica. “After you,” she said gesturing with her hand before she let out a harsh breath from the sprint she just had to do.

Erica finally caught up with Summer. “Girl, I need to join a gym,” she told her jokingly. “I forgot how physically fit you are,” she smirked as she walked inside as Summer prompted. She fanned herself gently, who would tell if she sweat or not? No one. Her body sported Rihanna’s body lava with subtle glitter flakes in it. She adjusted the top again, wearing something cut so low with breast so big was dangerous. But she fixed it anyhow and cursed herself for wearing leather pants and such high heels. She had to look her best though, after all men would probably hit on Summer’s tall thin frame all night but her, she was the plus sized chocolate skinned woman. Being out with Summer was a challenge.

Summer chuckled softly, waving her friend off. “You’re fine,” she said with a smirk as her eyes rolled over her friend. Over the years, from time to time she would hit on Erica to no avail. It was always fun to do regardless. They’d been friends since college, she knew Erica wasn’t biting but she got her kicks out of the looks Erica would give her, “and I do mean fine,” she said licking her lips playfully, her hand coming down to smack Erica’s ass as she walked into the bar behind her. Moving towards the counter, Summer plopped down in a stool and adjusted her halter top slightly. “So, what have you really been up too?” she asked Erica as she waited for the bartender to make his way over to them.

Erica looked back at Summer and she snickered covering her mouth. “Stop,” she told her playfully. Ignoring the fact that Summer had smacked her back side; she was so used to Summer doing little things like that, that she always brushed it off. “Work,” Erica said with a chuckle, her life didn’t have much to offer. “I don’t do a damn thing but work,” she said shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ve been out in like…” she stopped counting “… four months, until tonight,” she told her. “My little sister convinced me to go out a while back with her to a club and let me just tell you. The energy these young people have these days. I do not,” she chuckled. “What about you?” She asked curiously. “How’s the studio?” She sang out with a smile.

Summer picked up a piece of her long hair, looking at her ends with a hum as she nodded along, listening to Erica. “Four months?” she questioned shocked as she dropped her hair. “Please tell me it hasn’t been that long since you had a little action,” she said a little shocked before she laughed out loud. “Oh god, I can only imagine. Isn’t your sister like 21?” she asked. At Erica’s question, Summer placed her hands on the stool between her legs, gripping the edge of it. “I’ve been working a lot too,” she admitted. “Gearing up for the Summer. I know it’s only February, but we just came off a big winter showcase and there’s a lot of parents coming in trying to get their kids signed up for the Summer already,” she said. “We’ve had to interview for more teachers,” she admitted. “So, it’s been pretty hectic,” she said honestly.

The young bartender moved for the two ladies and he smirked, leaning against the counter as he asked. “What can I get you two beautiful ladies tonight?”

Erica bit back a groan. “I haven’t had a little ‘action’ in over a year,” she whispered embarrassingly. She hate to admit work had taken over her life, but it had, and her sex life and dating life were suffering due to that fact. “Ellie’s 23 now and girl she is something else,” she chuckled lightly. “That’s good, business is booming. What more could you ask for right?” She said happily before she looked at the guy. “Tequila on the rocks,” she said smoothly as she smiled at him.

Summer’s mouth dropped. “A year?” she leaned in whispering. “Oh Erica...” she said placing her hand on her friend’s thigh gently. “How are you managing?” she questioned. “Toys can only do so much,” she said gently. “23?!” Summer questioned. “Damn, where did the time go?” she asked chuckling before she nodded, “yeah, I guess I can’t complain. You know Jas does most of the hard work,” she said giggling a little. “I just do what I’m told,” she admitted, “and it’s my damn studio,” she said with a shake of her own head. Looking at the bartender, she said, “I’ll just take a glass of Chardonnay.” Looking back at Erica, she shook her head. “I don’t know how you drink that hard stuff,” she said cringing a little.

Erica flashed large eyes at her. “A year,” she said softly. At her next comment she chuckled. “True,” she nodded her head before she said, “I’ve gotten to the point where I just pretend like I’m forcing myself to abstain,” she told her with a huff. “I know right, she isn’t my baby anymore,” she told her with a small pout. She laughed at Summer and shook her head. “It’s easy breezy for you in that regard though,” she told her licking her lips. “Gone girl sit back and do the least you have to,” she said, “I ain’t mad at you,” she giggled. “Tequila?” She asked with a chuckle at her. “It ain’t that bad,” she smirked at her, “someone just can’t hold her liquor,” she mused.

Licking her lips Summer said playfully, “well shit, I’ll fuck you.” She was kidding, but also very serious if Erica was down. Her friend was fine as hell and there was no denying it. She’d take Erica down in a heartbeat if allowed. Chuckling it off, Summer said, “oh yeah, I just sit back and teach and let Jasmine do the day to day. She lives for that shit,” she said honestly. “I couldn’t be bothered,” she added, eyeing the young man as he made their drinks. “I can to hold my liquor,” she said quickly, looking at her friend as if she had scandalized her. “Just not for very long,” she added as she started laughing.

“Cut it out,” Erica said playfully swatting her arm. “You are crazy girl,” she said playing it off coolly as she looked to the man for a moment. Her eyes moved back to Summer and said, “you picked the perfect partner,” before she added, “lucky, lucky.” As the man handed them their drinks, she smirked at the salt and lime he added; she didn’t need it per say but he was kind enough to bring it back. Licking her lips, she looked to the glass and gulped half down smoothly before she sat the glass down. “What about your dating life?” she asked her knowingly, “who you into right now?”

Summer giggled. If Erica would just stop playing, she really would rock her world. “Best friend since high school,” she said thoughtfully, “I couldn’t have seen myself going into business with anyone else,” she told Erica honestly as she accepted her drink from the bartender, winking at him as she brought the glass to her lips, taking a sip of the wine. Sitting the glass down, she sighed as the man winked back at her before moving away. “Well you know Audrey and I still hook up for a night or two here and there,” she admitted, “but other than that, don’t really have any prospects,” she told Erica. “I met this one chick, but I guess she really wasn’t that into me,” she admitted, thinking about the girl from the boutique.

“I can get that,” Erica said gliding her finger over the rim and licking the salt off. “Things work out that way,” she admitted to her straddling the bar stool, never mind the gapping dip in her pants as she did. “Girl,” she said looking to her knowingly. “Now I thought,” she said pursing her lips at her before she looked away taking a sip of her drink. “Summer, you guys didn’t fit each other’s need why y’all still playing around. Blocking other people from dancing their way in?” she asked seriously. “Though I guess I get it,” she said sighing, “my sister just bounces from one body to the next, Lord. I wonder why she doesn’t just pick one body to cling to. I can’t keep up but she’s young,” she told her softly. As she looked to her, smirking at the mention of someone before the smirk fell, she bit her lip looking her over. She looked at Summer’s shoes, “girl you went to our family boutique, didn’t you?” she asked her. “Those shoes,” she added “I got the same pair, when my sister revamped that place, she did the damn thing,” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me, we could have gone shopping together, got my sister to discount some stuff for you,” she said, drinking down some more of the drink.

Nodding, Summer took another sip of her wine before she sighed out once more. “It’s just sex,” she said honestly. “Good ass sex,” she said with a shiver running down her spine and she groaned softly as she trembled, shaking it off. “We know what it is,” she said with a small smirk, “and we know what it ain’t, we’re free to mess with other people,” she said easily. “It’s just a matter of a conversation,” she said honestly. As Erica spoke of her sister, Summer shook her head. “That’s a shame, to be so young doing that,” she said as she held her glass in her hand. “She needs to be careful though, there’s so much crazy shit going on these days,” she said with a hum. “Plus, you know these men out here hitting raw, I hope she’s staying safe in these streets,” she said thoughtfully. She hadn’t seen the girl in years, but she slightly remembered the younger girl from back when they were in college and she just couldn’t see that girl ripping and running the streets, but people could change. “Hell, maybe you need to take a page out of her book, huh?” she said tilting her head at her friend with a smirk before she looked down at her heels. “I guess,” she said with a shrug, “I went shopping with Jasmine a few days ago, just tagging along, we went to so many places,” she admitted, “but I did get these from some little store,” she said with another shrug. “You know there are so many down that strip,” she added thoughtfully. “All I know is I was trying to impress some girl and I ended up buying these damn things to get her number,” she said smirking.

Erica pursed her lips once more as she tossed the drink back sitting the empty glass down. She picked up the lime and sucked from it gently before she sat it aside. “If you say so,” she told her. “You two are grown,” she nodded “I am sure you all won’t stand in each other’s way unless you truly want to,” she added. “Ellie is smarter than that, she is using protection; I am sure. She knows I would kill her otherwise. She still has to finish school,” she told Summer. “Plus, I know why that is, she’s stacked like me,” she told her, “if not more stacked,” she added with a chuckle. “They see the ass on that girl and the first thing most thirsty ass people do is try to get her number and bed her,” she said shaking her head. “She lets them get a taste,” she told her. “Ellie is a different spirit than me,” she told her “I am not that outgoing and not to mention she is really comfortable and free in her skin,” she said. “Oh, okay,” she nodded her head, “looks like some shoes that my sister is selling at her boutique right now, anyway,” she said. “You losing your touch,” she told her chuckling. “Shoes ain’t cheap, you spent how much? Over a hundred dollars for a number?” She cackled to her.

Summer smirked slightly, taking another sip of her wine, pacing herself. She was indeed a light weight and didn’t like to admit it. “I mean… you know if we meant to be together, then we’ll be together,” she said with a shrug. “It’s just fun right now,” she said licking her lips. Nodding slowly Summer shifted against her stood, listening to Erica, but eyeing the man that was eyeing Erica’s ass from behind her. She looked the guy over, then allowed her eyes to move back to Erica and she placed her hand on Erica’s knee, gently turning her stool. “Well, if she’s more stacked than you, she’s got to be a damn brickhouse because…” she trailed off whistling lowly at her friend with a laugh. “Also, you’ve seemed to caught somebody's attention,” she said looking at the man once more before she looked at Erica. Looking back at the shoes, Summer nodded. “I really am. You know that girl really hoodwinked me. Took the shoes right to the counter and started ringing them, I didn’t have a choice,” she said shaking her head. “I honestly didn’t even pay attention to the price,” she admitted, “but I was sure enough praying my card didn’t decline,” she said laughing.

Erica nodded her head at the taller woman, she was right destiny did things. Mysterious things. As she shifted her, she giggled at her comment. “You can call her that I guess,” she said amused. Looking behind her, she caught the eye of the man that had been looking at her and she turned back around to look at Summer. “More than likely, he’s looking at you girl,” she chuckled as she asked the bartender for another round. “Oh yeah, you got-got,” she told her chuckling. “We are getting old Summer; we can’t use those same playful tricks man these youngsters are smart as hell,” she told her.

Summer didn’t understand Erica sometimes. The woman was bea-utiful, but she acted like she wasn’t. “Girl he’s looking at you,” she said as Erica ordered another drink. “And he’s coming this waaaaay,” she said in a sing-song voice as she hid her lips behind her glass. “I got-got, man, got-got good,” she said with a sigh. “Lowkey a little butt-hurt about it too,” she said. “I text her and got no play…” she said before growing quiet as the man approached.

“Excuse me ladies,” Josiah said as he approached, looking at Erica with a bright smile. “Can I buy that for you?” he asked, pointing to her fresh drink as the bartender poured it for her.

Erica willed herself not to look back around at Summer’s words as she added in the fact that the man was coming her way. Erica bit her lip hard thinking of what she was going to do, he was a looker she’d already noticed that much. “You know what that means time to scout some mor–” she looked to the man as he approached, and she smirked at him slyly. “I don’t see anything wrong with that,” she repeated back to him cutely.

Josiah’s dimples creased and you could see it happening through his beard as he pulled his wallet from his pocket before he turned to Summer. “Would you like another too?” he asked her politely, knowing he couldn’t leave the friend hanging. He stood directly behind Erica as he handed the man his card. “You can just put the ladies drinks on my tab,” he said before he looked down at Erica once more from his spot towering over her. “I’m Josiah,” he said holding his hand out to her.

Erica looked the man over; his chocolate skin and dimples were enough. Damn this man was got-damn fine, and he was over here for her and not Summer. As he paid for their drinks, she looked to Summer flashing her eyes for a moment before she looked back at the man. She took a sip of her drink. “Thank you,” she said politely to him before she sat the cup down. As he introduced himself to her, she smiled and said, “Erica,” offering her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she added as she turned her back to Summer now, the woman an afterthought, though not intentionally.

Summer watched as the man paid for their drinks and Erica fawned over him. Well then, she thought to herself. Get it. She wasn’t even mad at her friend for literally turning her back on her. She needed to get some. Picking up her glass of chardonnay, she guzzled it down. “I’ll catch you later girl,” she said as she stood from her stool and moved for the exit, smirking to herself. Erica better ride that man for dear life or she was going to be pissed.

Josiah took Erica’s hand gently, shaking it. “Nice to meet you as well,” he said holding her gaze as her friend left them to it. He took the seat, her friend left, and he chuckled softly as he took a sip of his rum and coke, his eyes rolling over her hungrily. “You want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked her. “I know the best spot in town.”

Erica looked back at Summer for a moment and she nodded, “okay,” she said before watching the man sit before her. Good her friend had decided to leave her to it because this was one fish that she did want to reel in. “Sure, don’t I look like I want to eat?” she joked gently. “Oh really?” she asked him. “Well let’s check it out,” she said biting her lip before she released it tossing the drink back and swallowing it all down before she picked the lime up and sucked on it before the man, sitting the peel down.

Josiah chuckled softly. “I mean, I’m a southern boy so…” she said shrugging cutely, his accent coming out a bit. “I like a woman with a little extra on her plate,” he told her licking his lips. As she agreed, he smiled, tossing his own drink back before he closed out the tab, gathering his card from the bartender and signing off on the slip. “Right this way,” he told her easily, his hand on the small of her back as he led the way out the door to hail them a cab.

At his words Erica blushed at little as if she wasn’t one year away from being thirty. Acting like a little schoolgirl crushing for the first time in her life. She licked her lips slowly, saying nothing in response to that because she couldn’t even find her words to flirt back, it had been so long. As he closed out the tab, she grabbed her small bag and moved to climb down off the stool in her heels. She could feel a little something from the drinks, but she was fine. She let him guide her, his hand on the small of her back and she inhaled deeply, the feel sending tingles down her spine. Damn it had been a long time, she thought as he grabbed them a cab.

[qorillas]

some more gorillaz headcanons

murdoc is actually pretty decent at voguing and can pull off a flawless death drop. he does it whenever he’s not getting his way and wants to be petulant about it. there have been a lot of arguments in which murdoc is about to lose but instead drops to the ground suddenly and slides away on his back, whining “you can’t maaaaake meeeee.” he’s been doing it less as he gets older but he’s still not allowed to come on supermarket trips anymore. last time russ wouldn’t let him get the sugary cereal he wanted and he death dropped in the middle of the aisle and caused a scene and a cleanup on aisle 4. 

everyone steals everyone else’s nail polish, even though as a whole the band has over 400 different bottles. this sometimes leads to really passive-aggressive messages in the group chat. when noodle was little, she insisted on painting everyone’s nails for them; this doesn’t happen as much anymore, but since there’s always a bottle of nail polish somewhere in reach, long conversations between people tend to be held over a communal nail painting session. 2d still can’t paint the nails on his left hand; murdoc usually paints them for him. 

more under the cut!

part of the reason 2d’s so skinny is because, along with just being naturally tall and thin, he forgets to eat a lot. it’s kind of overwhelming for him to keep track of things or to gather enough spoons to fix himself an entire meal, and it’s common for him to focus so hard on staying mentally present or hyperfocus on a lyric or chord that he completely loses track of time. the rest of the band get exasperated when they realize 2d hasn’t eaten anything the whole day, but it’s mainly out of concern that he’s not taking proper care of himself. they each have different ways of dealing with this: russel’s taken to carrying around a bag full of granola bars and fruit snacks in his purse, and will wordlessly nudge 2d when they’re in the studio and hand him a snack if he thinks it’s been too long since 2d’s eaten. noodle likes to check up on 2d while he works and will ask him to go get boba or some other snack with her, or ask him to help her make dinner so that she knows that he’s had something to eat. murdoc will barge into 2d’s room unannounced with a plate full of homemade tamales or a bowl of pozole, shove it under his nose, and sit there glaring at him until he finishes the whole thing. “the whole thing, 2d, i don’t want my singer dropping dead in the middle of a concert because he accidentally starved himself to death, jesus.” 

watching the great british baking show is less of enjoying a tv show and more of a battledome experience. they place bets on who’s going to be kicked off and who’s going to win star baker each week; things can get heated when someone’s favorite baker doesn’t prove their dough for long enough or leaves something in the oven for too long. 2d is no longer allowed to have popcorn during viewing sessions because he will fling it at the tv and boo loudly when something goes wrong. noodle’s ringtone is an audio clip of murdoc screeching, in a very scandalized tone, “you can’t just GLAZE bread straight out of the OVEN.” russel has had to prevent physical altercations over the show on multiple different occasions.

russel and murdoc tend to run into each other late at night in the living room or kitchen because of their weird sleeping habits. sometimes they’ll just silently acknowledge each other, but other times they’ll discuss plans for the next music video or tour, have conversations about current political and social issues, and on rare occasions vent about their pasts to each other. both of them have teared up during talks like these. they’ve been having these late-night talks for years. they both appreciate the other’s maturity and thoughtfulness  — but they’d never tell each other, and they never mention these conversations during the daytime. 

you’d think murdoc’s the one who’s the wildest at afterparties, but actually it’s 2d. it’ll be 3 or 4am and murdoc will be exhausted after getting up to some wild shit all night long but 2d will still be out in the middle of the dance floor, dancing on random people with his shirt missing and on all sorts of rave drugs. the first time noodle managed to convince the boys to let her come to an afterparty with them (she was already like 21, it took a while) she tried to follow 2d into the crowd and murdoc stopped her. “you don’t want to see that,” he said. “even i can’t keep up with him.” 2d was already crowdsurfing. 

even as a 10 year old, noodle was strong enough to pick 2d up on her back and carry him around. he was so tall compared to her, though, that she couldn’t actually give him piggyback rides until phase 2, and even then he had to fold his legs up around her torso and cling on like a baby sloth. it looked absolutely ridiculous, and they have home movies of noodle shooting around the house at top speeds, with 2d on her back, limbs nearly touching the ground, arms and legs wrapped around her, screaming in terror. 

murdoc never got his wisdom teeth out as a child (his father was far too negligent to see that he received proper dental care). sometime in phase 2 russel took noodle to a dentist appointment and forced murdoc to at least get his teeth checked out while they were there, since it had been so long since his last dental exam. they ended up removing murdoc’s wisdom teeth, which of course meant that he came out of the appointment high as shit on laughing gas. russel and noodle had a hard time getting him back into the car because he refused to move from the chair, insisting that the floor was going to swallow him, and then trying to escape from them and wobbling straight into a wall. they had to strap him into the car using three seatbelts. murdoc alternated betweeing seeming pretty grumpy about the whole situation and trying to pull the cotton out of his mouth, screeching that he was in charge of the band and they couldn’t tell him what to do, and breaking into tears and telling them that he loved them so much and they were his family. they gave him to 2d to babysit when they got home because they couldn’t put up with him anymore. when they came back an hour later they found murdoc half-asleep on 2d’s bed, 2d braiding his hair and rambling on about facts about keyboards. murdoc insists none of this ever happened and that he was born without wisdom teeth. 

[berlinner]

busted in grenada: the janeen

1970. learning to act at the Yale Drama School (same time Meryll was there). starting to hate it. the perpetual ‘one’s body and one’s self is one’s ‘instrument’ and one needs to practice ‘it’ all the time’ was turning me inside out: ‘practicing’ accents, facial tics, postures. my friends wondered what the fuck was going on with Kinscherf? why does he seem so fake? when i heard that an friend of a friend of mine, a pot dealer from Amherst College, was shooting a movie in the West Indies and that i could have a part, it was the nudge i needed. i dropped out of Yale, got my pal Francesca to hop on the bus, bounce outa New Haven and fly on Amherst’s dime to the Caribbean. tough call, right? we taxied cross-island to one of several pink bungalow beach houses, were given our own rooms, our own Vespa scooters, our own cars to share and all the food, booze and drugs we could foie gras choke down. our homework, the first week? ‘familiarize’ ourselves with the island. this meant getting stoned drunk tripped out and pirate tanned on our own private post card perfect beach. two crescent halves forming a white sand/black sand middle finger insinuating out into the Gulf with a chubby lighthouse at the fingernail tip. it’s beacon — a favorite LSD drop spot where kaleidoscopic film clips spit fired out of gonzo foreheads. deep in the jungle we skinny dipped waterfalls, parrots swooping overhead, banana clusters plopping like puppies into our sated laps. seafood spreads and rum cocktails paraded on the cheap in open air St Georges casbahs. natives laughing (at us? with us?). this was paradise and it was all ours all the time. one week in and against the inky blue black of a starry starry night a sailboat, our sailboat, the schooner Janeen (re-named and re-painted The Sad-Eyed Lady) edged past the psychedelic lighthouse and dropped anchor in our tiny personal bay. a two-masted monster, tip top lights winking, full crew in dress whites, galley with a chef from Paris, lobster, steak and champagne on ice — the works. we were oared out to eat drink smoke fart, whatever, not caring whatthefuck this movie was about or when we would begin to shoot it. we were surfing an infinity rainbow. be here now was an induced reality. one night our main man from Amherst gathered us round and story-told, obliquely and slo-mo stoned, the plot: we were 21st Century pirates chasing leftover refugees after an earth kill nuclear freeze. our orders: seize any ship or person caught in the crosshairs. that was it?! who cared? we were down for the count. i became ‘Lookout’, awarded an all brass telescope which i polished obsessively and had macramed by a Grenadian hippie so that i could wear it like cutlass. arrgh! i loved the thing. wore it all over the place, ‘getting into character’ drug induced Actor’s Studio style. the first shot the first day was of me, naked, at the top of the mid-mast spyglass spotting a mom n dad sloop who’s teenage daughter was booty bounty. that girl, Janie, was (not certain about this) the girlfriend of our benefactor and possibly the muse for his film-to-be. but who knew about anything for sure? i can’t emphasize enough that we were, most of us most of the time, sky high on vitamin LSD. that first day of the shoot i saw below my dangling legs, a deck so miniaturized it looked like a toy boat bobbing in a bathtub. when we cut through a 50 yard diameter dart board oil slick so astonishingly beautiful my eyeballs hurt. i wanted to dive into the shimmering bull’s eye and shape-shift onto a mountaintop in Nepal. seriously. at night we skinny dipped into a phosphorescent sea so manifest that swimming felt like flying. or like finger painting. we’d anchor in St. George’s harbor, motor a dingy into town and get more fucked up and more outrageous by the minute. we set up a full band on deck and blasted endless iterations of Satisfaction cross town, our girls topless. usually topless. all this behavior occurring without complaint. case in point: a young chiquita, a Grenadian, had herself rowed out to The Sad-Eyed Lady to see what was happening. just a kid, no more than 16 wearing a sequined Carmen Miranda pineapple turban with three rattlesnake maracas in each tight fist, eyes flashing. her name, i kid you not, Helen Of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Nielson. her mom, a Grenadian, her dad a shipping baron from across the pond in Holland. Helen glommed onto us like a starfish, flitting in and out of our orbit and adjusting to our weirdness as best she could. as did handsome Australian sailor boys who, like us, wanted to gulp down the full feast of booze weed acid and hash that was all over the compound. 20th century world weary refugees who pulled into Port Wherever, worked partied fucked and then, after they had enough, hired onto a new rig, a new ocean, a new port. round and round the globe — a moveable feast, Aussie style. as much as anytime in our lives this was heaven on earth, wild heart throbbing freedom all too soon to end. around the third/fourth day of the filming as i was monkey-ing about in the rigging, the one boat Grenadian ‘Navy’ putt-putted into our slip stream, armed and megaphoned. the charges: drugs and nudity. both true. we were whisked off the Janeen, driven to a dank up-island prison (nerves on edge now that the drugs and booze had worn off) and dumped into a two room cinder block jailhouse. boys in one hole, girls in the other. tin buckets to piss and shit in. the trial set for the next day. one minute, sky high in our pre-fab Nirvana, the next, incarcerated. and the next? court. would we be trapped and raped here for life? not to be: lucky result. Helen Of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Neilson’s cousin, a guy named Maurice, signed on as our defense. he painted us unwitting victims from good American homes having innocent fun and who had been caught at an awkward unguarded moment. we were on a plane early the next morning. Helen came along for ride. she got married in Boston a few weeks later and became Helen Of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Nielson Parker. my dad, Dick, her best man. the rest of us fled to a house by a river in Greenfield, MA, paid for and outfitted, again, by our pirate king. the plan: start a band and get famous fast. more acid, more weed, more insanity until one night, driving back from Janie’s house, i saw flames roman candling the night sky. Plan 2, a one and done. coda: our lawyer, Maurice, was elected Prime Minister of Grenada. in 1983, the island was invaded by Castro Cubans and Maurice was assassinated. Reagan sent in the Marines making tiny war history. i moved to Somerville, started my first band, Orchestra Luna and wound up living in one town for the next 40 plus. no more Kerouac road trips. coup de gras? Helen is now Helen Of Troy Eleanor Roosevelt Nielson Parker Spielman and lives in Hawaii. the movie? atrophying in a freezer somewhere in Brooklyn.

This is an excerpt from my book, The Paragraphs — Cutlass Press

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