#like sometimes i get to the venue kinda nervous to be there and then as the live goes on i'm like. ah. of course. i'm here not bc of the

[01tsubomi]

sometimes your favorite song is by the idol group you see every time you go to tokyo but they haven't released it to streaming and they're quite obscure (not to mention taping performances is extremely NG in jpop idol culture) so the only time you have a chance of hearing it is when you go watch them perform and it's like not even guaranteed that it'll be on the setlist every time and then you find out it's actually by a disbanded sister group of theirs and they also didn't release it to streaming but they did put it on youtube in a 20 minute long video that features their entire first mini-album except for some reason it's the absolute worst quality vocals you've ever heard on a professional recording as in not the mic quality but the actual singing quality as in it sounds like a group of friends doing karaoke not even professional singers just some friends with no retakes no autotune touchups not even re-recording the lines that are off rhythm but it still means you kinda get to hear the song in your apartment. but is it even really the same song as the one you hear when your favorite member gets the solo in the chorus and walks from the back of the stage out towards the audience between the rest of the members as if parting the sea. is it

[archangeldyke-all]

I miss CEO Sevika :(

What about Reader and Sevika going to...idk a dinner party/charity event with multiple companies in attendance. Sevika is one of the speakers for the night and while she's nervous, she knocks it out of the park. Meanwhile Reader is like "wow my wife is such a fucking boss and so hot for doing that on stage, I can't NOT suck her off and get fucked in a random, out of the way bathroom right afterwards."

i was thinking about this ask the entire time she was up there by vander's statue giving her speech. my sweet baby.

men and minors dni

sometimes, you forget just how important sevika's work is. most days you're stuck in your office together, making phone calls and signing documents.

but it's nights like this, when sevika's company has its annual ball, that you're hit with how much sevika does for the community.

the company built on the idea of giving low income communities low interest loans to build businesses and homes. there're several neighborhoods and families that you know personally that have had their lives transformed by sevika's work. but it's not just that.

it's parks built on the company's dime, community centers and pools and basketball courts sponsored by sevika herself. it's the team of social workers and accountants sevika's carefully hired over the years, who make sure that your clients are trained in financial literacy so they don't fall through the cracks. it's underfunded public schools-- the schools you went to as a kid-- being sent busload after busload of books and computers and supplies from your wife. it's medical bills being paid off by a mysterious, 'anonymous' source--the chickenscratch on the checks all matching your wife's.

and nights like this, with each lead team member of all the departments giving presentations of the differences they've made in the community this year, where it really hits you how incredible your wife is.

your poor wife. sevika's currently on the brink of passing out from her nerves, a glass of whiskey shakily clutched in her palms as she waits behind the stage. "baby." you coo, reaching up to cup her face.

sevika winces and pouts in your hold. "i hate public speaking." she whines. you chuckle.

"i know, love." you sigh. you'd give this speech for her if you could-- but it's kinda a requirement that the ceo speak at these big events. "it's just five minutes, talk about the good you've done this year, get some claps, get some laughs, then we can bail." you promise her.

sevika pouts even more, slouching down against you. "you remember the first time we put one of these shitshows on?" she asks.

you giggle and nod.

your second year working for sevika, a few months into dating, and the company had the first of it's now notorious annual balls. of course, back then it wasn't quite as sophisticated as today's is, but it was pretty memorable. after her speech (which she nailed, because despite how much she hates it sevika is good at talking) sevika ran off the stage, high on the applause she'd received, and practically leapt into your arms where you stood backstage. "fuck i can't believe i did that." she whispered against your scalp. "and they liked it!" she laughs.

you giggled and kissed her cheek. "course they liked it, you're very easy to like."

and then sevika said the words you'd been dying to hear her say, the words you were trying desprately to keep inside your throat until she was ready. "i couldn't've done it without you, y'know." she whispered. your smile got softer, and sevika leaned impossibly closer to you. "you kinda scare the shit outta me and... i think i'm in love with you."

you had just grinned and kissed her, mumbling a teasing "you think or you know?" against her lips.

and here you are, nearly ten years later, on the same little patch of floor backstage of your favorite venue, smiling up at your wife.

"course i remember, baby. one of the best moments in my life. right up there with meeting you 'n marrying you. think it'll be in the little montage that flashes before my eyes once i die." you say, giggling.

sevika smiles sweetly and kisses you. "yeah, me too." she whispers.

you hold her for a moment, hoping the touch will help her relax a bit, both of you swaying gently in your dark little corner as you wait for seamus to finish his speech and introduce sevika. "you're gonna do amazing, y'know. you do every year."

"ugh. i know." sevika huffs against you. you giggle.

"so then why are you so worried?" you ask. sevika shrugs against you.

"just. 's a lotta people. and i like when you baby me." she says.

you burst into laughter just as the audience on the other side of the stage bursts into applause. sevika groans, and you give her one last good squeeze and a smooch to her cheek before pushing her toward the stage. "go ahead baby. you got this." you encourage her. sevika smiles shyly at you, and you curse. "shit, sev, wait! i left a kiss mark on your cheek!" you squeak, scrambling to grab her wrist and wipe off the lipstick that must've transferred from her lips to your own, then onto her cheek.

sevika ducks out of her hold, though, her smile only growing. "good. let 'em see it." she says, winking at you before ducking under a curtain and out onto the stage.

the crowd bursts into applause at her appearance, and your heart melts as her words sink in.

she's such a fucking sap. you love her so much you think you might explode.

she nails it, because of course she does. by the time she walks back off stage, there are literally people chanting her name, like she's a rockstar or something.

you intend to tease her about it, but then you see her and her sweet shy smile, your very obvious kiss mark on her cheek, and her hands nervously clutching her note cards, and something ravenous courses through your bloodstream.

you nearly tackle her to the floor as you launch forward to kiss her. sevika gasps, and her notecards go flying as her hands reach up to hold you tight. fuck you love her. she's the most incredible woman you've ever met.

"sev." you whisper between kisses you can't stop pressing to her skin. "sevika."

"y-yeah?" she asks, her voice squeaky and excited.

"can i blow you in the bathroom, please?" you ask. "want you so fuckin' bad."

sevika shivers full bodied and lets out a shudder before she grabs your wrist and starts sprinting toward the bathroom. you cackle the entire way.

your favorite thing about this venue is that they have plenty of single stall bathrooms. you and sevika have used this feature to your convenience many times over the years.

sevika's already rock hard in her trousers by the time you lock the door and pin her to the wall. she's clawing at you, whimpering as she tries to catch your lips in a kiss. you giggle, cupping her jaw and kissing her soundly, shoving your tongue in her mouth to calm her down a bit.

sevika sighs heavily, and you pull away, gasping a breath before dropping to your knees.

"fuck. i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as you paw at her pants. you giggle.

"you better. want you to cum inside my cunt, love." you say.

sevika makes a pained noise, and her dick jumps in her boxers. you laugh. "you better touch yourself while you're suckin' me then." she says. "want you to cum with me."

it's your turn to shiver. you claw at her boxers, a little growl escaping you when her cock's finally revealed to you. "fuck." you grunt, before leaning forward and just pressing your face against her cock.

sevika sighs dreamily, reaching down to cup your face as you nuzzle her dick. "so pretty on your knees." she whispers. you smile up at her. "lemme see you touch yourself." sevika requests. you shove a hand down your waistband, rubbing your wet clit with your fingers as you rub your face against her length. "that's it, baby. fuck. now put your mouth on me, love."

you're needy for her, so needy that you take a little too much of her at once, gagging loudly on her cock.

sevika moans at the feeling then laughs at the embarrassment on your face when you pull back and catch your breath before trying again.

"don' laugh at me." you pout, spitting on her dick and jerking her while you blink back your tears.

"'s just cute baby. so fuckin' needy for me you choke yourself on it." she sighs.

you shiver a little. you can't really deny that. "you did amazing, by the way." you whisper. "you always do."

sevika's shoulders scrunch up to her ears, and her eyes dart away from yours. you giggle. "shush. you aren't supposed to be talking right now."

you laugh and kiss her wrist, then try again, taking her back in your mouth and slowly working down her cock.

sevika melts against the wall behind her, and her eyes fly back to yours. you hum around her and she groans. "shit, i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as she starts thrusting into her mouth.

drool is trailing down your chin and into a puddle on the floor, and when sevika's thigh starts shaking you sink two fingers into your cunt, getting ready to take her.

"fuck, i love you." sevika whines. "i love you so much, baby, love your fuckin' mouth, love fuckin' your mouth--" she cuts herself off with a little giggle, and then she groans. "off-- off-- pull off baby, i'm gonnahh!" sevika shudders as you pull away right before her orgasm. she glares down at you, and you giggle, kissing her clothed thigh. "get up here." she growls, tugging you to your feet and roughly shoving you back against the sink.

you grin, shimmying out of your pants with sevika's help, kissing her anywhere you can reach as she hauls you up.

"you ready for me?" she asks, rubbing her cock against your soaked folds. you whine and nod.

"been ready for you since you put that suit on." you tease.

sevika just chuckles and pushes in, both of you groaning at the feeling.

"oh fuck, please tell me you're close." sevika whines, ducking down to bite at your neck as she starts hammering into you.

your hand flies to your clit, rubbing quick little circles against it in time with her thrusts. "s-so close." you whimper.

sevika shivers at your answer, then lifts up to kiss you on the lips. "i love you so much." she whispers.

"p-please cum inside me, sev, wanna make you feel good."

"y-you always do baby, fuck!" she shouts as she fills you up, cumming and shivering against you.

you grin, satisfaction and pleasure filling you equally until you're falling apart around her, laughing and moaning as you pull sevika to your chest.

"you really did do amazing, you know." you sigh after you catch your breath.

sevika smiles against you. "i know. practiced really hard last night, my wife finds it sexy when i give speeches."

"your wife finds it sexy when you do anything, love." you correct her. she grins.

"can we go home now?" she asks.

you giggle and nod. "kinda have to babe. my shirts covered in drool, and i'm sure we got cum somewhere on your pants or something." you say.

sevika cackles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone

[kazumist]

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies. 

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him? 

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again. 

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?” 

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well. 

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?” 

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.” 

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — — 

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides. 

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — — 

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now. 

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?” 

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?” 

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — — 

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.” 

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — — 

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay. 

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.” 

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side. 

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss. 

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — — 

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you. 

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him. 

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact. 

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips. 

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.” 

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back. 

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — — 

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour. 

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — — 

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — — 

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since. 

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold. 

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley. 

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

[coke-whore]

Can you make a Tom x reader of them being childhood friends and they like each other but is to scared to tell each other and reader is apart of the band.

this is literally so cute stop I love these storylines

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐓.𝐊𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐙

synopsis- what the request says pretty much

content- fluff + slight angst

a/n- if u saw what I did with the title I love u.

I squinted my eyes as the bright flashes of cameras and the loud screaming of hundreds of teenage girls came into view.

Tokio Hotel

That was us. We were like a family, even before we got big, and it was just devilish. Personally, I liked our other band name better but it worked out so what am I complaining about.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I felt someone nudging my shoulder. As I looked over, I was met by a pair of brown honey-colored eyes and a bright smile accompanied by a silver lip piercing that glinted in the sun's reflection. "Nervous?" he asked with a teasing smirk on his lips, as he studied my now annoyed expression. "Please I'm not the one who's about to be trampled by a thousand girls Tom. " He frowned before laughing "At least I'll die happy."

I was about to make another remark when the car stopped, signaling we were at the venue, as if the hundreds of cameras hadn't already hinted at that. I took a deep breath in before stepping out of the car and putting on my best smile. The flashes from the paparazzi were almost blinding and the screams of the fans were almost deafening as the rest of the boys stepped out onto the red carpet behind me. I almost gagged at some of the signs they were holding, how could anyone be that desperate honestly sometimes these girls scared me.

We did the usual routine, answering questions as we walked down the carpet, signing random things fans had brought, smiling and posing for the cameras even as the heat of the sun glared down on us, making me feel like I was about to melt into a puddle.

I sighed in relief as we finally entered the air-conditioned building, following our manager to our dressing room. As soon as we entered the room I immediately flopped onto a couch in the corner of the room, resting my sweaty, aching body.

TOMS POV

I looked over at her resting figure on the couch. She looked adorable. All I wanted to do was hold her and tell her how much she means to me, the way she makes me feel, I just wanted to pour my heart out to her, but I couldn't. I don't want to ruin the friendship we have over something as petty as a crush. "You're staring at her like a creep." I whipped my head around, met with my brothers gaze as he tried to hold back a laugh. "Shut up no I'm not I'm just-" I said trailing off trying to come up with some sort of excuse. "Dude just ask her out, you've liked her forever and honestly this is getting kinda sad to watch" I widened my eyes at his words "Shhh what are you mental or something?! she's right there what if she heard you" I turned around to check for any signs that she had heard what Bill said. She stayed in the same sprawled out position.

phew

Y/N POV

I opened my heavy eyelids and sat up still spent from the red carpet. I looked over towards the other end of the room to see Tom and Bill whisper arguing.

weirdos

My gaze shifted to Tom. The way his baggy clothes fit his toned physic, the way he played with his lip piercing, the way his dreads hung perfectly against his shoulders. He was hot to say the least. I mean it's Tom fucking Kaulitz what girl wouldn't want him? I've had a crush on him since forever but he's my best friend. I don't want to ruin that.

After a few minutes a staff member came in and told us it was time to take our seats for the awards. I messed with my hair a bit making sure it looked decent before walking down the long corridor heading to where the awards were hosted. I pushed open the doors, met with a huge room full of seats and A list celebrities. I turned to see the boys wearing mirrored expressions of awe and shock. I snickered to myself before walking down to our seats.

TIME SKIP

The loud music of the after party boomed in my ears. My mind was hazy; I think the alcohol was getting to me. I looked around to see Tom shoving his tongue down some girls throat. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. I wish that was me. Whether it was the alcohol or just my emotions getting to me, I felt tears start to form against my waterline, threatening to spill out. I tried to look for anything to distract me when my eyes landed on a tipsy dancing Bill. I smiled to myself and made my way to him, pushing past the drunken sweaty bodies. "Hey Bill" his eyes lit up and he flashed me a toothy grin "Y/N! CMON LETS DANCE" I laughed at his drunken excitement and started to sway my hips to the rhythm of the music. Bill moved his hands to my waist, moving his body against mine. I felt someone's eyes burning into my skull. I assumed it was all the alcohol making my brain fuzzy until I turned my head to see a very angry Tom staring at me and Bill from across the room. "Bill something's wrong with your brother" I yelled over the booming music. He frowned and turned his head before letting out a loud laugh. "Bill what's so-" I was cut off by someone grabbing my arm and dragging me away from Bill. "Tom what the hell?" He stayed silent and dragged me outside, still fuming. "What was that" he said glaring at me once we were outside. "What?" He scoffed and took a step closer closing the distance between us "What do you like Bill or something? Cause you were all over him." I furrowed my eyebrows and looked up at him "No Bill's my best friend we were just dancing." " It didn't look like 'just dancing' " he said using his fingers to make air quotes. "Tom just drop it what does it matter to you" I scoffed. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me. "WHAT DOES IT MATTER TO ME?!" he snapped. "IT FUCKING MATTERS BECAUSE I LO-" his eyes widened as he cut himself off.

How fucking drunk am I

Did Tom Kaulitz just try to say he loved me? The Tom I've had a crush on since we were 13? My mind was spiraling and all I could do was just stare at him. "Shit look um- I meant-No wait-" he stuttered tripping over his words. "Do you actually?" I said as his gaze softened "Of course I do" he mumbled. "I've loved you since we were 13", he said as he pressed his forehead against mine. I looked into his chocolate-colored eyes and leaned closer as he did the same, connecting our lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, not lustful but loving. We both pulled away looking at each other's flushed faces. "I've been wanting to do that for forever" he mumbled against my lips. "Me too" I smiled, cupping his cheeks with my hands. "It's you." he whispered. "It'll always be you."

Not a lot, just forever... Intertwined, sewn together...

a/n- I lowk don't really like this but it was 3am and I was bored so oh well

[marta-diablo]

‘Noel and Julian were possibly aroused’: The Mighty Boosh turns 20 – in pictures

 ‘Something magic happens when they get together’

While filming the surreal comedy, Dave Brown AKA Bollo was on hand with a camera to snap awkward kisses, creepy venues … and crack foxes ordering pie and mash

Tony & Dennis (Series 3 – The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox, 2007)

Dave Brown: ‘Lunchtime on set was a feast for the eyes. It was always a treat seeing cast members milling about munching on a jacket potato with ridiculous full face of makeup, asking for more cheese on their beans. Here, Noel Fielding (Tony Harrison) and Julian Barratt (Dennis the Head Shaman) pose for a quick shot before tucking into their pasta bake. Behind the Boosh 20, an exhibition by Boosh cast member Dave Brown AKA Bollo, is at the pop-up Behind the Gallery, London, 10-13 October. All photographs Dave Brown

Up on the Roof (Series 3 – Party, 2007)

‘During a particularly long scene, Noel and Julian look a little nervous and possibly slightly aroused as they contemplate their upcoming big kiss scene. I love the light and composition of this shot’

Tony & Saboo (Series 3 – Eels, 2007)

‘This was a particularly special scene. On Head Shaman Dennis’s stag do, Saboo rubs sun cream into Tony Harrison’s smooth pink crease, saying: “Don’t leave it in thick blobs, rub it in. Factor seven?! Shit off! I need factor 67 you ball bag!” It was always a hilarious pleasure to witness Noel and Richard Ayoade riffing off of each other in scenes, kinda like jazz, but jazz on bikes. Two very funny humans in ridiculous costumes at the top of their game, trying to out laugh each other with hilarious absurdities’

Luna Looks (Luna Park, Melbourne comedy festival, 2001)

‘Noel throws me his best blue steel look beneath the giant face of Luna Park as I lie on the pavement among the chewing gum and cigarette butts trying to get the angle. Melbourne festival was always very special, such an amazing city with brilliant crowds’

Come Play With Us (Aberdeen Future Sailors Tour, Press and Journal Arena, 2008)

‘The last gig of an insane tour. A strange place to end things after 99 dates that included Brixton, Wembley, Manchester and Sheffield but still, it was a great gig. Rich Fulcher was doing his usual dicking about pre-show in the corridors, grooving to tunes, practising his fossil moves. As I walked around the corner he was at the end and the blue suit reminded me of the Shining twins. I took two shots of him stood holding his own hand then comped them together. Way more terrifying than Kubrick’s version’

Hitcher Nabootique (Series 3 – Eels, 2007)

‘Loved this set: the sign, the lighting and one of my favourite characters, the Hitcher. Him walking up to the door in the rain was just a perfect moment to capture. All undercut by the ridiculous graffiti. Not sure why “loose change” makes me laugh so much, it’s one of those perfect examples of Noel and Julian’s writing and their way with language’

Noel Draws (Noel’s House during the Future Sailors Tour, 2008)

‘I spent many an evening pre-tour and sometimes during tour, in my flat or at Noel’s place, scribbling artworks for tour posters, DVDs, the book. The two of us produced all of that material. Old art school mates getting busy with the fizzy. We could draw those Boosh faces in our sleep, which became a bit of a problem some nights on tour in posh hotels’

Moody Naboo (Series 3 – Journey to the Centre of the Punk, 2007)

‘Naboo was indeed an enigma. Often found gazing into the middle-distance meditating deep astral conundrums, solving some of the world’s biggest problems and answering those age-old impossible questions like what flavour Pot Noodle he was going to have later when watching Columbo. Here is one of those moments in-between scenes shooting series three in a warehouse in a disused Ministry of Defence site somewhere in Surrey’

Foxy Man (Series 3 – The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox, 2007)

‘One of my favourite characters: those two voices, the laugh, the costume and makeup, terrifyingly hilarious! This is me capturing Julian just after lunch break walking back on set. It was a wonderful vision seeing the Crack Fox stood upright on two legs by the catering van ordering pie and mash from a visibly disturbed catering assistant, all while the real hungry Hackney crack foxes looked on through distant bushes in awe and jealousy’

Fossil Faces (Series 3 Rehearsals – American International Church, London, 2007)

‘Rich isn’t really acting in The Boosh. The character Bob Fossil is 92.4% Fulcher. A force of nature, he will crush any down moment anyone is having with his comedy fists and have you wetting your little blue pants in a hot minute. These shots were taken during rehearsals for series three in the American church on Tottenham Court Road in London. It was a pretty intense afternoon with some writing issues and a few moody clouds brewing. Then Rich provides these six faces and everyone’s laughing again’

Hippy Boosh (Series 2 – The Call of the Yeti, 2005)

‘Vince, Parsley and Naboo in full Polyphonic Spree get-up in front of the big blue studio 11 doors at 3 Mills Studios in east London. We’d just been shooting the song scene in Call of the Yeti and I was still in my Bollo suit. It always amused me when cast and crew from other shows filming at 3 Mills would walk past and assume this show had a Gorilla as the official set photographer’

Bendelack Directing (Pilot Episode –Tundra, Pinewood Studios, 2003)

‘Steve Bendelack directed loads of our favourites: Lee and Herring, Newman and Baddiel, League of Gentlemen. So when he was directing the pilot episode of Arctic Boosh at Pinewood Studios it was a pinch-me moment. Paul King took over from Steve when the first series was commissioned by the BBC. Steve was no doubt busy on something else. Or maybe he swerved it? Stewart Lee, who directed Noel and Julian in the Arctic Boosh stage show for the Edinburgh fringe in the late 90s, said it was like ‘trying to direct smoke’

Mutant Readers (Series 1 – Mutants, 3 Mills Studios, 2004)

‘Mike [Fielding] having some down time in his dressing room sipping on a brew and glancing across at a coupon for 10p off Monster Munch. Two trained thespians sit beside him on the smallest sofa in Europe; one reads a crime novel and an unshaven Pete from Dixons in the middle reads about how Bolton are on the brink’

Graffiti (Series 3 – The (Power of the) Crimp, 2007)

‘I’ve known Noel for over 30 years and Julian for over 25. Something magic happens when those two get together. They’re one of the great double-acts. It was never easy getting a decent shot of them together. Noel on his own was easy; he’d spot a camera lens a mile away in heavy fog. Julian, on the other hand, was usually eating, talking, squinting those already tiny eyes or hiding somewhere in a cabinet. I love these two nincompoops like brothers’

x

[mortimermcmirestinks]

I mean this in the most genuine way possible, why are you getting so hung up on the walrus vs fairy thing? You’ve gotten really rude for no reason over a dumb funny tumblr poll

[tone indicator for the whole post: sleepy, chill, a lot of shrugs and vague handwaves]

idk man. to your second thing, I'm not trying to be more rude than usual so I apologise if that's how it's coming across. also, I'm at least half doing a bit, and sometimes me Doing A Bit can come across weird in text

to your first thing, again, idk man, but I think part of it is that I tend to get kinda skittish around things where people, like... hmm. idk how to phrase it, but whenever people get really dismissive about the distinction between funny fantasy magic stuff and real-world stuff, it makes me kinda nervous, I guess?

like, I get really irritated about astrology and stuff. I feel like it's really important to be able to, like, keep a solid grip on what's actually really real -- like, with Goncharov stuff, everyone was being like "yeah goncharov is the greatest film ever", but when push comes to shove, people will admit that "yeah, this is a bit, we're doing a bit, Goncharov isn't a real movie", y'know? (some people refused to put down the bit, though, even when asked to (sometimes by people with mental health problems that were being triggered) and those people are assholes)

but for some reason with this walrus-fairy thing it seems to almost be going in the opposite direction? like as it becomes a bigger and bigger Bit, more and more people are coming out of the woodwork talking, basically, about how they just straight-up do not believe that science is real. and THAT makes me reeeeal antsy.

like, I know people mostly aren't thinking about it like this, and I'm overthinking it, but, like, think about it like this:

a fairy (in the way the question was originally intended by the OP, and the way that I am interpreting it, and to some degree I believe the way that most others are interpreting it) is an inherently magical creature; that is, a creature whose literal existence would mean that the basics of how we understand the physical world are wrong from from the foundation, and thus, all of science -- which is all built on that foundation -- is also wrong. this is not a case of "a new scientific discovery that builds on or recontextualises previous scientific history", this is a case of "the fundaments of science are incorrect in their base assumptions".

a walrus is literally just a regular animal. it's not a common animal in most parts of the world, but on a sliding scale of magical to nonmagical, a walrus is exactly as "mundane" as a squirrel, a dog, a cat, a bee, or, like, a car or a t-shirt (or a pine tree or a dollar bill or a sand dune or a cloud or the planet Venus...). walruses exist in our world and we know that they do -- not for absolute certain, because obviously nothing is absolutely certain, but as close to absolutely certain as it's possible to get about almost anything, so we can say that, in practical terms, it's an absolute certainty. I am more certain that walruses exist than I am certain that you, the person asking this question, exists.

if you live in a world where it's physically possible that a fairy can arrive on your doorstep, that means that literally every single element of our understanding of the physical nature of the world is fundamentally incorrect, and all of science needs to be thrown out immediately, because we can no longer rely on it safely -- which also means that every anti-science person from six-day-creationists to antivaxxers are, at a foundational level (if not in specifics), correct that Science Is Wrong.

if you live in a world where it's physically possible that a walrus can arrive on your doorstep... well, you live in that world, right now. is it likely? no. but would it mean that all of science is wrong? no. it would just be a strange situation.

like, this is obviously a dramatic overthink about a poll where most people are, let's be honest, not actually answering the posed question. the question that the vast vast majority of people are actually answering, based on what I've seen many many people say, is not "would you be more surprised if a fairy or a walrus came to your house", it's "would an imaginary sitcom character based on you be more surprised if a fairy or a walrus came to their imaginary sitcom house".

like, tons of people in the comments are talking about how the fairy is less surprising because of [insert Thing That Only Makes Sense As A Rationale Within A Narrative here], which means that they're not answering the question. which is also irritating, but in a kind of more minor way?

sorry, this is kinda rambly and got away from me a bit. basically the tldr here is that when you have hundreds of people saying "I would find it more normal for there to be magic than for there to be a strange animal" it makes me nervous because it reminds me, however unintentionally, of soft science denialism like astrology and crystal-healing people. basically this whole sitch is either like a very small microcosm of, like, science denialism or just uncomfortably close to that. for me.

oh, and for anyone who reads this and thinks that the huge wall of text means that I'm getting really pissed off: I'm naturally extremely talkative, this is me in my kinda default slightly-sleepy rambly mode, when I'm actively angry I tend to be pretty brief. that's why I wrote that tone indicator at the top after writing the rest of the post, I realised if I didn't clarify that I was chilling and shrugging people would think I was yelling and thrashing

[bbitess]

skater boy prt 1-clyde x skatergirl!reader

friendstolovers‼️ you run into a cute guy at the skatepark and get more than you intended…

warnings‼️ drinking, mention of weed, making out, one mention of kinda grinding

it was a normal day like any, i had gotten of of school, came home, ate, spun some vinyls, and then drove the the skatepark. it was around six and the park was a little busy. i am always nervous when i go to the skatepark but i feel like i am getting better so i decided to roll in.

i set my things down like my water and coat and i started just making laps around the skatepark. there were a lot of people around but i decided to drop into the bowl. i have done this for a while now and I just skated around, feeling the wind hit my face. it went on for a little until it was time for me to dismount, but i must have gotten a bit too much speed because when i came up the ramp the board flew out from under me and i made a harsh landing on the cement.

“fuck” i mustered, it’s not like i’ve never fallen before but, i felt especially embarrassed when i hear someone ask, “hey are you okay?”

i peel myself off the pavement, i look at the man’s face, he was around my age and pretty cute with his long wavy hair. he had a kind face and was smiling when he handed me my skateboard back. “yeah…” i said, a little shaken, rubbing my head and checking i didn’t rip my jeans.

“i’m not worried about the jeans,” the man laughed, looking me up and down, “i mean your head, you took a slam.”

“oh, yeah, shit happens, it’s cool.” i shrugged off, as my head cleared i started to blush realizing how nice he was being to me. i held out my hand, introducing myself and he responded with a beam, “my name is clyde, it’s nice to meet you too.”

we kept talking and learned we had a lot in common, we both liked skating and music and had a similar style and humor. i started telling him about some of the shows i had been to in the area, some of the local bands i thought were good.

things went on like this for a while, we chatted a lot at the skatepark while we were resting and sometimes even got food together after. we exchanged numbers and kept chatting. i learned he was deaf and we both smoked weed, and… we were both single.

a couple weeks later, we were talking more about local bands and i mentioned one i thought broke up and i hadn’t seen them in a year, but i loved their music and shows. “damn, when was the last time i saw them?” i questioned to myself.

“no way!” he blurted, snapping me out of thought, “they are playing tonight at the venue down the road, i was going to go with johnny but he didn’t seem very excited.”

“what! really! i haven’t seen them in like a year.” i say obviously excited. “yeah so i have two tickets, you know.” i felt confident and asked, “is this your way of asking me to come with you?”

clyde blushed and turned away, “yeah if you want.” he stated. i also nodded, “what time are you going?” i asked, he responded around 8.

“okay, well how about i skate home and you pick me up when im ready?” i asked, “why do you need to go home?” he asked tilting his head. “well i have to shower and change clothes.” i said. “well…” he paused, “i have a shower and clothes at my house??”

i laughed, “wow, i mean if you insist, i mean, i guess i don’t expect a deaf guy to be a kidnapper.”

he chuckled and lead me to his van, when we arrived at the house i took a quick shower and changed into my skating pants and one of clyde’s t-shirts. i looked a little silly, especially with my hair still wet, but i didn’t care. “clyyddee, how will i do my makeup??” i complained.

he walked into the steamy bathroom, “you don’t need makeup, doll. you always took great.” clyde said with a genuine smile. i blushed a little at his charming words and kept drying my hair. “i’m just saying, it’s a show- even a concert, and i look like i’m going back out skating.” i frowned.

clyde smiled, “well i guess since you are dressed for the occasion… we could skate there.” i looked at him confused, “really?”

“yeah, it’s close by and i’m sure snow could give us a ride home, or you know a taxi or something.” i nodded and packed my things to go to the show.

when we got there, clyde gave the tickets to the bouncers who looked at him suspiciously but we got inside and met snow. she was very nice and pulled me close to talk in my ear over the loud music. she smelled like good perfume and hairspray.

i returned to clyde’s side counting the seconds till the band came out, until the drums rolled and the curtains opened and the flashing lights blinded me. i was so excited i couldn’t help but scream with the crowd and grab onto clyde’s arm. he tensed a little and looked at me but then relaxed and headbanged to the music with me.

the night was really fun, we recited the lyrics and i danced with snow. me and clyde downed drinks at the bar and stumbled around, holding onto eachother and giggling. it was really fun and towards the end of the set i grabbed tight onto clyde’s hand and pulled him through the crowd the the front of the venue.

you could feel the bass in the speakers in your feet and smell the sweat of the band and people in the crowd. clyde was surprised at the action and looked a little rustled. i turned around to face him, we were very close and almost pushed together in the large mass of people. i fixed his hair that was slightly disheveled and he slowly brought his hands to my waist. it almost felt like an instinct at this point, he was a little nervous but the action was comfortable.

i fixed his hair and looked at him under the flashing stage lights with the music blaring in my ears. i was staring right into his eyes, seeing his whole face at once, which wasn’t often since his shaggy hair always hung in front of it. i admired him, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his eyebrows, his straight nose, his strong cheekbones, his chiseled jaw. i knew it from the moment i met him that he was just my type.

my eyes quickly flashed to his lips, he seemed to notice and i swiftly turned back around. his hands stayed planted on the sides of my hips and i held them around my waist. i liked it. the music started playing and i kept having fun and spinning around with clyde, and i would be lying if i said i didn’t grind on him a little.

it wasn’t crazy, but i made sure that even though my jeans were baggy, he could feel my ass pressed against him.

when the show was over i suggested we skate to the skate park and my car was still there. he agreed and we quickly skated down the road. it was inclined and we flew through the empty street together, laughing. the dim street lights and the bright moon was the only light source and we watched our shadows disappear and reappear underneath us. i was so surprised we had this much energy, but it wasn’t a long skate when we arrived.

we were both really tired, clyde sat down on his board and i tried to do some new tricks. i could flip the board right but i couldn’t seem to land my two feet on the board. “what’s going on, doll?” he smirked.

“i don’t know you tell me!” i said a little frustrated. he just laughed and stood from his board. “well first you are still probably a little drunk, and well-you got the first part down, you are just scared to land.”

i nodded and stood back on my board, he grabbed both my hands and told me to try again. i jumped and tried, but my feet slipped of the board a little.

he laughed as he held me up and i got back on the board again, but this time i landed but lost my balance and the board flew out from under my feet. i yelped quickly but clyde held me tight, setting me back of my feet. he went to retrieve my skateboard setting it by my feet. “wait,” he said. i look down confused. “your shoe is untied.” he laughed and looked up at me with his icy blue eyes almost glowing in the dark. he continues to tie my laces and then stands up, offering his hands again.

this time, i jumped and landed successfully, clyde gave me a lot of support for balance, but i didn’t fall off! i was so excited and smiled really hard, i looked at clyde who’s face was also grinning and he said, “yes! i knew you could do it!”

it got quiet for a second, i had stepped off my board and was looking up at him in the windy night, our hands still interlocked. i started, “listen, clyde, thank you so much for tonight, i have appreciated it more—“

clyde quickly cut me off my pressing his face to mine. i couldn’t believe it, it was so soon and sudden and i wan not expecting it. i immediately melted into his mouth, my hands fell to wrap around him and his hands rested on me. one behind me, slightly grazing my ass and the other one behind my neck to pull me into his mouth.

we finally pulled away to catch our breath. “wow” was all i said. “please tell me you feel the same way i feel about you.” was all clyde said with his eyebrows furrowed. i smiled “well,” i said, “tell me how you feel about me.”

he paused and caught his breath, “well, ever since i met you i feel like my life is better.” he laughed, “i know it seems strange but even our small conversations at the skatepark kept me coming here like every single day.” he said. “i know you are a really kind and genuine person, aswell as a drop-dead gorgeous girl…” he said tucking some hair behind my ear. i blushed harshly but gained my composure, “wow,” was all i felt like i could say again. “i like you too clyde,” his face eased, “like really, really, really like you.” i giggled playfully and fell into his arms. he smiled and hugged me tight. he tucked his face in my hair and whispered slightly in my ear. “so does that mean you can be the skater girl to this skater boy?” he asked.

i cringed a little, but laughed, “i guess so,” i laughed, “i haven’t ever had a boyfriend like you, but i like it, you make me feel different then i ever have before. i feel heard and understood around you. we vibe.” i said simply. he smiled lovingly and picked up my skate board to pack it into my car. “okay, i’ll see you another day at the skatepark i guess…” he stood next to my car and kissed me slightly though the window before leaning away and letting me back out and drive home.

i’m assuming he went back to the show and went back with snow, but i guess i won’t know until i see him again. but let me tell you, i can’t wait to see that skater boy again.

part 2 here

[caltropspress]

ShrapKnel in the Bardo

Two Nights on Tour with Curly Castro and PremRock

19 June 2024 | Brooklyn, NY | Public Records

20 June 2024 | Rutherford, NJ | Soldato Books

How many intelligent people in the house tonight?

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

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

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

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

—Curly Castro, prior to performing “Dreadlocs Falling”

1.

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

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

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

1.1

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

1.11

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

1.12

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

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

1.3

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

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

Spirit. Convergence.

2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3.1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3.11

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

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

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

3.2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4.

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

4.1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4.11

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

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

4.111

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

<whispered>

“ShrapKnel.”

4.2

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

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

5.

Before I go on live all my enemies try to contrive

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

But this ain’t commercialized hip-hop…

—Buck 65 (1999)

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

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

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

5.1

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

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

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

5.11

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

5.111

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

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

5.2

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

5.21  THE CENTRAL PARK CHAPTER

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

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

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

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

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

5.22

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

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

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

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

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

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

5.3

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

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

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

6.

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

6.1

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

6.11

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

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

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

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

7.

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

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

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

7.1

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

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

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

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

7.11

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

8.

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

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

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

8.1

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

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

9.

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

9.1

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

9.11

Oh shit, now here’s a cypher…

—Curly Castro, “Sadatay”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9.111

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

9.2

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

Spirit. Convergence.

10.

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

10.1

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

11. CODA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOSAJ:

THE POWER OF SYNERGY

MASTER SPECIALIST

SOUNDTRACK FOR THE MOVIE TAKING PLACE IN THE ROOM THAT EVENING 

A STEP FORWARD FOR THE GENRE

PRIDE

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

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

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

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

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

13.

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

ShrapKnel setlist at Public Records

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

Performance photos from Public Records courtesy of E. Fortson

[a-mallowbuddy]

FOR ANYONE TO ANSWER!!!!!

🕷️ - are either of you afraid of insects? who kills the spiders when one of you is scared? otherwise, who lets them out of the house?

🌹 - what flower do you associate with s/i? if they were a field of flowers, what flowers would they be?

🖤 - has s/i ever told you a specific style of clothing that would look nice on you? what kind?

This one is gonna be long, oof

[Disclaimer: None of these are romantic f/o's]

First Question: 🕷️

N: She gets startled, but she's not super duper scared of the little robo-roaches and stuff. I always love them though, I help them get outside. If V's around though, she eats them.... I-I don't get mad at her for it, I just wish I can help the bugs live as well.

Blazer: We don't like the bugs... they are annoying... She's more scared of the spiders then me.. We usually kill them..

Bezel: She isn't a fan of bugs, but I love them! I usually get them outside.

Yellow Bomber: The big bugs are scary... She usually kills them for me.

Black Bomber: She sometimes gives them to me so I can add them to my little bug home.

Spud: Spud is used to bugs. Ev-even annoying, spud, annoying bugs are nice to spud. Lil's doesn't like bugs too much, at least if bugs bite her

Rodger: We like bugs a lot. We literally have a toon associate who's a butterfly.

Second Question: 🌹

N: Oh interesting! W-we sadly don't have flowers on Copper-9... you know, the freezing event that killed all life? But from what I remember as a worker drone, I think she would like and be like a dandelion. Both the yellow ones, and the ones that you make wishes on. I love how mystically they seemed like.

Blazer: Lotus flowers and Lily pads, EASILY. They are fucking big and gorgeous. And pretty pink, like her favorite color. So I guess she wouldn't be a field, she'd be a lake of those flowers?

Bezel: ugh I couldn't pick. Maybe a Sand Lily? I don't even really know flowers!

Yellow: ALL FLOWERS!!!

Black: Bro.

Yellow: ... I guess I could pick the forget-me-flowers.

Black: Same. The amazing flowers represent inspriation and she inpisres me to battle evil

Yellow: oh. I just thought the color of blue matched her clothes.

Black: heh, not wrong.

Spud: F-fire Lillies, spud.

Rodger: I like Venus fly traps for her. She is fascinated by them, so I associate them with her that way.

Third Question: 🖤 [I'm sorry but I have no knowledge of what kinda styles there are in the world, you're gonna have to settle with "clothing items?" basically?]

N: She always said I'd look nice in dresses and skirts. And yeah I like them too, I'm just still nervous to pick some out and wear them publicly... Her encouragement has been nice though...

Blazer: It's not really clothing but she really likes saying I might look nice with jewlery. I'm thinking about looking for some.

Bezel: She keeps suggesting getting me "casual clothes". I like my suits, I don't need these shorts and soft sweaters or whatever. .... I'll try them someday.

Yellow: She says I'd look nice in "Hawaiian shirts?" and I do like the designs of the shirts she's been showing me when we shop!

Black: Yeah I don't think she knows what "styles" are. She just shows us clothing's that may or may not match with her other suggestions. Though I think she normally gifts me, emo or punk things? I think that's the word for the style.

Spud: spud spud, spud and Lily don't know what styles are. but, spud, she got spud a sticker pack for spud's bucket. spud wears spud's bucket a lot so are, spud, stickers on bucket a style?

Rodger: It's not really a style at all she gets me, but she gets me patches a lot. I have a jacket that is covered in nothing but patches that she's gifted me. I need to wear it more, but I need my suit on for work.

[whats-wild-to-you]

OMG hii ur back 😍 can i request? I thought about this when Jay was on tour but u were away too so I didnt want to bother u

can u write one for Jay’s POV when he finds a letter that u stuffed in between his clothes before he left for tour? like the letter is u wishing him well, asking him to rest and not work himself too hard, basically sappy fluff to make me cry

oh .. the feels 🥹🥹🥹

I guess you mean the Won Soju tour? Which, side note, is a BRILLIANT idea! When he mentioned it that he should maybe do a Won Soju tour instead of a ‘regular’ one … genius entrepreneurial mind at work 😍

Anywayyyyyyy…

______________________________________________

I dragged my suitcase inside the hotel room, kicking the door close with my foot. Suddenly being back home, in the U.S., felt bittersweet. On one hand I was dying to meet up with my friends again, on the other hand I kept thinking about who I left behind.

It's only been a couple months since we started dating, but she had already become a vital part in my life. Against my intuition, my strong will to separate business from private life, I found myself turning to her whenever I needed advice or a second opinion.

She would often stay over or I would sometimes crash at her place and we'd be like an old married couple, sharing chores and falling asleep next to each other in front of the tv.

Sighing, I immediately took out my phone to text her. Chuckling to myself, because she didn't demand it, but I felt the need to keep her updated nonetheless.

I'm in L.A. in my hotel room. Looks pretty nice. Kinda empty though.

I added a photo of the view and a selfie of me looking all mopey. After a minute I got a text back.

You'll do great. Fighting!

I was hoping for a more heartfelt response but remembered the time difference. She was probably at work right now and couldn't send lengthy texts.

My manager came in to check on me and told me we would be heading to the venue in a hour. I wanted nothing more than to take a nap but another text fron her made me jump in excitement.

I put a couple packets of your favorite ramen in your suitcase so you wouldn't get too homesick. It would be better if you took them out before you crush them.

Smirking at how well my wifey was taking care of me, I bent down, weeding through my clothes. Instead of ramen, I found a red envelope. Curious to see what it was, I took out a handwritten letter.

Hey babe, by now I think you've realized there's no ramen. Sorry for the fib. I just know how you never unpack, so I had to get you to go through your stuff to find this. I know I told you I didn't mind you traveling a lot, and I really don't, but I still miss the hell out of you! We've only been together for a short time but I can't imagine being away from you for too long. Why I didn't tell you all those things when we said our goodbyes you ask? Well, I didn't want to be clingy, or make you worry. I wanted you to enjoy your trip. I know it's mainly work, but I saw how excited you were to do this and I wanted you to have the best time ever! But please remember not too overwork yourself, cause I also know you tend to do that too. I'll be there with you in spirit, so whenever you feel anxious or nervous, imagine I'm right beside you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. Try not to miss me too much, and I promise you I'll do the same. When you come back I'll be waiting for you with your favorite food. Until then, with love. xxx

Wiping a stray tear away, I carefully folded the letter, put it back in its envelope and stuffed it inside my backpack together with my valuables. With trembling hands I called her.

"You know what I want to say, right? I don't want to say it over the phone."

'I know. You'll have countless of opportunities to do so very soon.'

"Okay. Now go back to work!"

I ended the call and let out a frustrated sigh. No matter how emotional I was right now, I was definitely not the right moment to drop the L-word.

[hey-its-cweepy]

Yo Haven’t done one of These in a long time so

What would you Characters think of Hiroyuki and Joren

TWO CHARACTERS-

Oh man- extra long post today huh-

I'll separate them by colors!

Hiroyuki Jira

•Cweepy might be a bit nervous at first, but otherwise not that bad! Might be a teeny tiny bit grossed out by the mucus since its not her own from her squid form

•Cho-Hee doesn't mind the mucus at all and wouldnt really think much of it, but questions the spider grudge

•Dallas is a NO because he thinks he's gross😔✌️

•You will catch Salvatore and Vincenzo doing the confused head tilt thing seeing their shoes-

•Out of coincidence, you're the same height as Momo! Meaning that, even tho she's still a bit nervous, she'll likely stick around! Also I just imagine-

Hiroyuki: Im so sorry about that, I can clean it o-

Momo, using the petals of her flower tongue to scrape it off:

•Dell is very curious about him! Especially about how he became an Ogama and what its like-

•Faust is choosing death by accidently zapping him if he comes too close (more likely to happen if he's wet

•HEXTIAN IS A BIG NO NO, he's not bad! He just cant touch water ever

•Benibara is a no because she's literally the worst

•Kenzo is a no because he's the type that asks too many questions, man doesnt even know what a toad is

•VENUS IS A FROG BUT I CAN TOTALLY SEE THEM BEING FRIENDS

•Marinus is a GIANT no because he doesnt stop at just eating people💀 (he does try very hard to not reach that point tho! Also he'd probably think Mari tastes salty)

•Kumo: "Ew no"

•Aotome's more confused if anything, definitely performing various scans and perplexed if he uses slang- you just see the loading icons in her eyes if they goe "Baee<3"

•Banji probably thinks some of the bug items are a bit strange but not as bad as eating literal inedible items (cue Hextian eating glue-)

•Kamïk thinks its interesting that he doesnt remember his past life

•Clover's the type that goes "Eeeewwww!!!" At the mucus but isnt too mad about it

•Avery thinks its disgusting-

•Jolie is the type to collect the mucus on her clothes and make it someone else's problem

•Everyday Roan think's he's freaking dreaming and a human talking demon toad doesnt help (probably mistakenly calls him a frog sometimes)

•Pepper is a NO

•Wolfo's perplexed by the mucus issue if anything-

•Creek will be VERY mad if it gets on any dolls but otherwise pretty chill and even slightly teases him a bit

•Poppet does exaggerated gagging if you put the bug food items near him, he's just messing around though!

•Seine says your bug crimes are unforgivable

•I imagine if he did use his UM on Toma, he'd turn into a little toad plush

•Vysio's a bit nervous, but that's okay! She'll get used to them, especially if they meet Yuto first!

•He is going to learn real soon that sometimes Yuto needs to shut up💀

•Astoria probably doesnt even know what a toad is either let alone the difference between a toad and a frog

•Elbarnes is just gonna consistently clean him anytime they meet- mucus on his clothes? Cleaning this instant!... Sure, he does this with his mouth/spit, but at least it's more like cleaning product than human spit-

•Chepi probably facing the consequences of "Dont give him spicy food"😔✌️

•Amos is a NO, he's not one of those people that like toads/frogs/slimy animals in general and also probably thinks he's gross

•Enid is not as mean, but considers the mucus a bit strange

•Lorien questions how his skin makes the mucus in the first place, but otherwise is more baffled at some of the bug dishes-

•Jessica is a NO, probably pokes at the fact that his clothes are customized when it comes to his legs

•Oceana cannot tell the difference between a toad or a frog either, but it doesnt matter because she thinks they're both adorable! Although she'd be a bit concerned about the bug eating habits

•Indira would be interested to try the bug dishes herself, but a bit nervous to-

•Torimiya thinks hating things spitefully is kinda stupid, just enjoy yourself✨

•Asahise probably introduces them to Oceana! But just leave the sweaters and plushies away from the mucus or there's gonna be a problem

•Tokki's a bit lost on certain things, but otherwise doesnt really mind them

•Kuru would say he's gross but doesnt actually mean it

•If he doesnt remember, Yaku will find a way to find out- Will he be okay wih what he finds? Undecided-

•Jaiden would mistake the bug catching thing as something cute until someone explains "Literally do not tell him where Theodore is"

•Mindel is a little caught off guard by the slang terms but I can see Mindel just vibing with him while drinking his boiling hot coffee

•Frey questions if the mucus is toxic or not the first time, but would be very hesitant to try the bug dishes so they'll stick to gifting cream donuts

•Sylvester and Kendall are also a bit lost on the spider grudge but whatever, that's your deal✨

•Mao and Midge are going to punch them if they catch them eating bugs

•Cherokee thinks he's a bit strange in general as if he himself isnt a big dork lmao

•If he can turn into a small toad, I can see Shiloh gently holding him in his hands and being more open to talking but talking to a giant toad is also ok!

•Charlene is fairly certain she's probably seen em somewhere but doesn't know from where, if she has context though, she's probably the type to purposefully tell the wrong directions

•Deedee: "Fine! I don't like you either! You slimy, bumpy, hideous thing! Hmph!" Girlie didnt even start anything yet and they dont like her💀

•Janus and "Dolly" are a NO

•Birsha questions if she squeezes him, will mucus come pouring out?

•Lucinda probably thinks he's a tiny bit gross and apologizes

•Panko would cry if you ate specific bugs in front of her (and is DEFINITELY not ratting out Theodore, with or without context)

•Pattie is very confused by the slang terms and eating bugs habit, but otherwise doesnt mind him

•Canela is staying away because she doesnt wanna poison anybody

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

Joren Tsuchigumo

•Oh boy with this context to the story, every single positive interaction you built with Cweepy is falling apart in seconds-

•Cho-Hee expresses his condolences for the loss of his family

•Dallas is TERRIFIED of bugs and spiders are no exception

•Salvatore and Vincenzo are probably going to jump Hiroyuki after this so maybe its best to not tell them-

•Congratulations! Momo is once again terrified of everyone-

•Dell also expresses condolences for the loss but it also makes them question a few things, overall, still very curious and interested about them!

•Faust might accidently zap him at some point if he doesnt tease him first💀

•Hextian is a BIG no-no! Maybe dont casually sit down and talk to the guy that is literally poisonous to almost everyone

•I think its clear Benibara, Janus, "Dolly", Canela and Pepper are a NO (The first 3 are pricks, Canela's just trying to keep students safe and Pepper's paranoid)

•Kenzo shrieks seeing he's a spider before chilling out

•Venus,,, is,,, a frog,,,,,, does that cound as part of his grudge? If so, Venus would be confused by it before being given context and completely understands

•MARINUS IS A NO-

•Kumo, Lucinda and Tokki are only a no bcs spiders make them a bit nervous

•Aotome is still interested in his anatomy but also very confused of their strange arguing (both of them)

•Banji isnt sharing no damn sweets with him but might poke fun at the extra weight

•Kamïk questions why he doesnt just kill Hiroyuki, I mean c'mon, there'd be no more arguing if he's dead, right?

•Clover SHRIEKS because spider

•Avery questions why not change schools

•Jolie questions how the hell Hiroyuki even got away with it💀

•Roan hates it here-

•Wolfo ABSOLUTELY will not stand for family murder, he may have shitty parents but he could never stand someone doing something to his siblings and to hear what he did to Joren? Man is seeing red.

•Creek will at least try to stop Wolfo with Poppet's support like "A-At least wait until after school hours!"

•Poppet would be mad too, but focuses on trying to not let his brother wreck the whole school looking for him💀

•Seine and Joren could probably be spider buddies!

•Why do I have the feeling he just sees Toma get hurt but Hiro feels it instead and gets an idea-

•Vysio is a bit nervous, especially by the serious attitude

•Yuto probably explains that Vysio's just nervous due to her giant size and probably risking hurting someone, but assures him its not his fault!

•Astoria is a no because crown (DONT PUT IT ON)

•Elbarnes needs him to pass the clean check anytime they meet- even if its just for a minute-

•Chepi is concerned the giant toad situation might happen again but isnt limited to a spider clan, she expresses her condolences for the loss though

•Amos would probably also think he's nasty at first

•Enid instinctively picks up a shoe before dropping it, apologizing and explaining she just got used to doing it-

•Lorien is OUT because he's afraid but would rather spend a day with Joren than Amos (absolutely terrified of cats)

•Jessica is OUT because she body shames

•Oceana and Asahise would cry if he explained hy he hates Hiroyuki

•Does Indira even count in the frog grudge? She isnt one but her tongue is similar-

•When Torimiya grasps the situation, she's very upset and concerned, also expresses her condolences

•Kuru thinks him being a spider is neat and "Much better than that slimy old toad... But dont think just cause I like you a little bit means I care!"

•Ah yes, Yaku found out the truth this way huh... He's both interested and upset in the story-

•Jaiden is very upset and expresses condolences for his losses, might even try to offer some comfort maybe even sweets

•Mindel asks if he specifically means Hiroyuki Jira because he almost couldnt believe it! Also expresses concern and condolences and limits contact with him

•Frey is absolutely horrified at the news and is very concerned and upset, well at least its new news to them since they had no context but shh

•Sylvester and Kendall at least finally understand the grudges now... But Syk suggests death to fix it and Kendall suggests just avoiding each other

•Mao and Midge are still throwing hands, but this time Mao's also throwing them at Hiroyuki and Midge just really likes bugs (NOT in a way to eat them)

•Cherokee's finally stringing the story together and asks how you get turned into an Ogama in the first place-

•Shiloh probably vented to him if he can shift into a spider and AGAIN thought fir it for the rest of his life

•Charlene is devastated and very sympathetic about the confession, she knows what its like to lose someone but to lose almost an entire family in a day just makes her heartbroken...

•Deedee: "... Out of all the people that fight me, you're the only one who's not that bad"

•Birsha questioning his butt/abdomen

•You'd think Panko is crying bcs he's a spider but you're WRONG, she feels like she's doing something terrible by spending time with Hiroyuki but tbh doesnt wanna upset either of em, very apologetic and upset

•Pattie tries to stay out of their discussions/arguments and whatever they're doing

[edge-oftheworld]

hi! i saw your post about the nostalgia tour and i couldn’t say i know the exact feeling because i didn’t get to go, but i ~kinda~ think i know what you’re talking about from the ep per se. i wouldn’t touch twitter with a ten foot pole and sometimes i don’t know how to articulate these feelings, but i do get the slightly off vibe. i don’t know how to interpret it and that’s so frustrating bc it’s just… a feel. anyway, idk if i said anything or not, but yeah. would love to hear your thoughts bc mine are just ramblings.

hi anon! thanks for this ask. unfortunately I've said just about all I can on here--if you go in my archive of my blog to june 16th you can see my thoughts on my show but i'm not gonna bring them back to the top of my blog.

HOWEVER if you do go off anon I am more than happy to have this conversation more privately, but out of respect for luke there's a line that I'd rather not cross when it comes to speculation somewhere I can't at least do the due diligence of controlling who is able to see what I'm saying.

on a more generalised note, something about being anywhere under the neurodivergent umbrella means often a high correlation with a bunch of chronic health things, it's something i'm watching myself and a lot of my friends in our 20s go through. part of it is down to our brains and bodies/nervous systems being built differently (hence neruroDIVERGENT), part is due to the excess stress of living in a world not built for us. some people in this general demographic of society are gonna become musicians, and some are gonna become actually successful at that, and have to deal with the extra stressors of touring and fame and loss of privacy. I've been saying for years we need to be more accommodating for that.

how much, if any, of this applies to luke I could not say. he's gonna share however much he feels like when he feels like and we're gonna listen and respect that because he doesn't have to and we're lucky to get whatever we do. but I also think listening to and respecting him also has an active component: when he says he was too young to go through what he did, we need to ask ourselves, how can we make this industry have safeguards to be developmentally appropriate for a 16 year old? when he says (at my show) that the last time he was at this venue he wasn't allowed anywhere but the stage and upstairs because he was 17, we need to think to ourselves, how could we (or whoever's in charge) offset the loss of freedom that would feel like?

and when he says that making music is helping him heal and have a better relationship with everything around him we have to believe that. even though we worry, of course we do, this career path is really dangerous for anyone who started young. everyone is gonna struggle with that in different ways and we're gonna be understanding of that instead of judging, because none of us have ever been through what he has or been inside his head. i hope this was a bit of an answer to your question anon even if it wasn't a proper answer!

[maester-of-spreadsheets]

Okay okay okay more coherent IU concert thoughts because I wanna get this down when I’m still floating on air

So, I was nervous because I was alone and wondered if I’d be on the older side. But there were so many different generations there. I half expected it, but it was still really cool. Reminded me of the Shreya Ghoshal concert!

I was way up in the nosebleeds and while it would be nice to see IU closer, the light sticks made the whole thing so visually spectacular it sometimes felt like I secretly had the best seat in the house. Like, when I entered the stadium everything looked like this and I went into 🤩 mode and haven’t left it since.

And that was only the beginning with them. I don’t know if this is a common thing but somehow they were connecting to the stage lighting so they would change in time with the music and the visuals on stage??? Or maybe not and everyone just went to rehearsals that I never found out about. So you’d get visuals like this sprawled out in front of you and it really is no wonder I still have stars in my eyes:

And then of course, there was IU herself … and I have no words. She was just such a consummate artist. In person her voice was so clear, like a bell. And you could tell how much love she’d put into this concert and how much she wanted to connect with the audience. And we were all vibing off each other so hard that it made every note feel goddamn electric. And I’m so glad for it because the crowd strike think meant she couldn’t fly here from the previous stop. So she had to drive here. From ATLANTA. And she kept talking about how worried she was that she would be too tired to perform well but our enthusiastic welcome had energized her again. And now she wanted nothing more than to come back to DC someday. And idk it just felt so great that she at least had a warm welcome here after all that chaos!

She’s also so so funny. At one point she randomly started rattling off American slang she was picking up and became obsessed with. “I learned this phrase ‘ate it.’ What did I eat though?”

And yeah I just … vibed with songs I didn’t know, immediately developed love and appreciate for songs I didn’t care for (Celebrity is great with a live band who knew) and fucking transcended at my favorites.

I especially lost my goddamn mind during Shopper. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be kinda satirical or tongue in cheek. I think there’s likely something in there about the external validation (through, well, buying stuff or maybe it’s gesturing at social media likes or something?) But it’s been a year where I’m trying to do more, create more, love more. So I was shaking a little when I was singing stuff like “shop all day ay ay ay ay ay ay/greed is free ay ay ay ay ay ay!!” Also yelling LOOK AROUND!!! and seeing all the light sticks rewired something in me.

And yeah seriously the team behind this show really cared about the audience experience. There was always something going on with the stage, but it also somehow made the huge venue feel intimate. And they actually projected the romanized lyrics on to the screens complete with fan chants. So that’s a new experience for 2024 I guess. Going to a kpop concert and doing fan chants. Only took me a decade.

And yes I got to hear quarter life crisis/social satire song of my heart “twenty three” love and I’m so delighted. The intro video was funny too because it started out with the MV cake with the candles on it that said 23 but then it showed current day IU walking up to it and switching it to 32 (her current age.)

And then finally the second encore. She basically took requests and would randomly pick songs people had written on signs or did the songs people were yelling at her to sing. Which is a frankly insane way to handle an encore in a stadium that size but it was so charming. Idk man… let’s go haul!!

[unknownjpegs]

mean

It’s a shitty comment. Just a short, sweet little clip of an insult. Nothing cheeky, clever or major. Nothing that can’t be ignored.

Can’t, though, doesn’t mean should.

They’re backstage when a passing nobody — some roadie in an ugly polo labeled LIGHTING — levels the biting quip at Benny. Who is, as usuall, walking side by side ith Maran, one arm tossed around his shoulders to reel him closer. The hall is too narrow to do so comfortably, so they bounce off one another every few steps. It's nice; it's lovely. He’s turned towards Maran when it happens because he's chatting some shit, making Maran laugh. Facing him as the insult slips between them gives Maran the enraging luxury of watching the uncharacteristic brightness fade from Ben's crooked grin. He doesn’t react otherwise, but then again he doesn’t need to — it's fucking heartbreaking enough, the effect of the "joke" obvious. Not just to Maran, but to the insult’s wielder as well: the bastard laughs.

He laughs. Maran freezes in place.

He’s going the opposite direction as them, his puckered face rodent-like and grim in old venue's shitty yellow lights. It's some hole whose walls are so ancient and dusty that they rattle when Ben abruptly stops too, flattens himself up against one to make room for the passing idiot.

And Maran can tell Ben wants this to pass. Wants the moment to pass. Wants this man to have his cruel joke, feel better about himself; to briefly escape whatever gnawing, ugly fucking insecurity bites at his center. Easier that than a fight.

He doesn't blame Ben for wanting to avoid fights; he can tell that the times Ben chooses to make trouble are stragetic. Slowly but surely, he’s gotten better at recognizing that as not a random decision, but something that happens if the conditions are right. He wants to get better at judging what those are. Finding where those boundaries rest, that tangled defensive wall that winds around him.  He has a sinking, heartsick suspicion that it’s a messy, crumbling thing — just like his own.

So when the lighting prick goes to dodge around Maran, between Benny’s chest and his shoulder, Maran follows the side-step.

He slips in front of the man, splaying his elbows out to the either side of the hall. His hands remain buried in the pocket of Benji’s borrowed hoodie, but his left fist clenches within.

“The fuck —”

He knows he must take up a shocking amount of space, because the guy pauses. Falters. Just a trip of a step as he ducks to the other side — and unfortunately for him, is followed again. This time, Maran's whole wingspan spreads. Both palms press to the walls, blocking the rest of the hallway off. He’d have to tuck under an arm to escape, and it looks like he doesn’t want to do that. To get close enough. 

Because Maran tilts his head with a nasty little grin that is wholly unlike his usual smile. He sways forward and back, forward again to put their faces close.

Playful.

I’m friendly. I’m so friendly. You can’t be mad at me, can you? Don’t be mad at me, we can fix this.

Off-putting.

“That was kinda mean, yeah?” 

The other man’s nasty snarl halves into something contrite, impatient. He huffs a condescending laugh — Maran notes how much air there is to it, how thin and high and tight. He still sounds like a playground bully. Ballsy, but nervous. Sounds like he was expecting the comment to slide, that a comment had been ignored win the past. Sounds like his voice sometimes wavers when he yells. Sounds like a coward. 

Sounds like somebody who needs a fucking kick to the teeth.

“Mean. What are you, dude? Ten?”

He must be comfortable by Maran’s smile; his easygoing, you could knock me over, aren’t I so reedy and pushable sway. Whatever the reason, some of that pissy confidence returns. He goes to step forward, to check Maran to the side with his shoulder. He’s perhaps thinking that Maran is soft — not just in the skull. That he’s moveable. 

He’s not. 

Maran jolts quickly when the man goes to escape under his left arm. The back-forth dance bumps their shoulders together with sharp, snapping force. It’s as quick and brutal a movement as the comment. He yelps and stumbles, clutching at the spot that’ll undoubtedly be sore in the morning. When he glares up at Maran, he goes satisfyingly pale.

Because Maran’s not glaring. He's still smiling. Except that smile says something different now. It's not a 'we can fix this' smile anymore.

It's: I grew up weird, with weird friends. I used to fight. Is that surprising? Do I look like I can fight? That I had to? Do I look like I was decent at it? I was. I am. Well — I don’t know if I still am, but I’ll try it out on you right now. I want to.

“You should probably apologize,” Maran suggests evenly. Sweetly. The smile stays plastered on. To a passing bystander, it’d look normal. At a distance, it’d look normal. It’s really, really not. Off. People sometime forget that Maran is, too.

“H-Huh?”

“That’s what people are meant to do, if they’re bein’ nasty, right? Apologize? Dunno about you, mate, but that’s one of the first lessons I learned as a kid. Golden rule, treat others how you wanna be treated.” The roadie stares at him. Maran leans so severely forward at the waist that he has to take a step back to avoid their faces knocking together. “So…how d’you wanna be treated? Mean, like you just were? Nasty... or nice?”

A moment passes. The roadie gulps. “Nice.”

“That case, you probably should apologize.”

He does. Twice, really, because the first item the word — sorry — jolts out of him as a stutter and much too high. Maran waits patiently while he clears his throat and goes for it again, manages the whole word. Maran glances over at Ben, who stares at him still flat to the wall and then nods, clearly satisfied with the degree of groveling.

“Yeah, okay. S’pose we’re squared then.” He drops both arms, resumes the more natural, comfortable slump of his shoulders and pats the man congenially on his bicep. Maran squeezes it sneakily and smirks and the untrained softness. 

Yeah. Would have fuckin’ won easy. Prick.

And with that, the rodent-faced dickhead scurries down the remainder of the hall to the exit door. He's off on quick little legs, heading towards the opener’s equipment van. Maran makes note of that. He’s not above being a good old fashioned snitch. It’s fun to watch Matilda uncap the neat little lid on all that anger.

Benny’s still slumped against the wall when Maran refocuses on him. 

“S’like yapping dogs. Gotta bark back at ‘em every once in awhile.” Maran curls his upper lip dramatically, snarling like one to try and get a laugh. He doesn’t — Benny’s head stays tilted down towards the ground, messy blond strands hanging. Maran frowns. Reaches out and tugs at Benny’s wrist, fingers tight in the sleeve of his black shirt.

“Dickhead interrupted your story. Where were you, Ben, ‘bout the lads out camping at — aw, fuck’s sake, where was it?”

Ben’s unfocused gaze slips from the floor up to Maran. It’s so intense that he shivers. 

“I c-could kill you.”

Maran wrinkles his nose, laughing. “Never been there. Nice place?”

[icarusredwings]

This can work wonders if you have a confident Morph. Part of the reason morph would clash with patch is because Kevs too nervous and anxious to do anything like this around so many new people. I can see if they own a casino but jumping casinos wouldn't work for Kev. They would have to have a security in the staff and would a bit more shy then Wade is when it comes to the "call girl" role.

And yes while patch can be nice, like most hard gamblers like him who can run things and has the fear and respect of most staff if in a casino (unlike Remy who plays the "fun nice guy" at the table but is infact a big sore loser) and while these scenarios can fit Romy, I really like the idea of Patch being known as a gruff meany with no mercy. In a "What Jokes and Harley COULD have been" sort of thing.

"Wanna take a ride on your harley~?"

"Whadaya yapin bout, Wanda? I have a Yamaha. Why you want me to get a harley? Ill get a harley then."

"Noo! Im the harley!"

"Fine then ill get you a harley but you gotta wear a helmet okay?"

"....*pouts* okay.."

"Atta girl." *scruffs up her wig*"

Im not saying he hits wanda if he looses or blames her but he will be snappy and moody if they loose, growling at her sometimes. "I thought you were counting them!?"

"Now how am I supposed to be countin when your boners up my panties, Patches!?"

Which ussually ends up in wade either throwing a tantrum or patch saying something uncalled for and wanda cries.

"I did what I was supposed to do, so don't be yellin' at me! You always be yellin at me..." (I also like the idea of them having new jersey kinda accents)

"Hey hey hey wait, baby, im sorry - I didn't mean it. It's the cards. The damn cards. It doesn't mean nuthin."

"Nothin?"

"Nuthin."

"Promise?"

"Pinky swear on my mama's grave." (Hes never said this to anyone else before, its how she knows he actually means it)

"Oh patchy!!" And then ussually ends up in putting the seat back and eating burgers in the car, going home and going to sleep in each others arms.

Theyre toxic and I love them but man sometimes Wade gets just as jealous if theyre in a private venue and theres other waittresses or other girlfriends around.

"How much is he paying you to look like a whore?"

"Twice as much as ya face is gonna cost for reconstruction surgery if ya dont scram away from my man!"

"Wanda... play nice."

"Fine...You're the boss...."

She crosses her leg and her arms while on his lap and glares at the other girls, making his territory with kisses and leaning her arms over his shoulders 24/7.

"Whatda say to a lil strip pokey, patchy?"

"Wands.. here? Infront of the boys??"

She drags a finger down his chest, unbottoning as she goes. "Lette'm watch, peanut~"

In which ends with either Logan holding her on his lap and death glaring anyone who dares cringe at the sight of the scarred up skin.

It starts with the heel. And then the other heel. Then the stockings. And the other stockings. And then her dress, leaving her in her pretty black lace and just her red garter.

It takes one look, one smirk, a heavy puff of smoke, a snap, and a "Beat it, boys." Before he slams her against the table from out of his lap by the throat, pulling her garter off with his teeth and fuck her senseless. This is a good ship if you're into the whole slut shaming thing

"What did I tell you, huh? Showing yourself to everybody like a damn whore!? You tryna disrespect me or somethin?!"

"N-oH, No sir! Oh- Patches, Please. I-i am a whore."

"Who's whore are you? Huh? Tell me!"

"Y-yours~"

"And whys that?"

"Oh fuck- C-cause you're the boss, Daddy-"

ALEXA! Play you can be the boss by Lana del ray!!

I love how you write call girl Wade and having her as gender fluid, honestly I live for a gender ambiguous take on him, it scratches the brain PERFECTLY

And Logan would be obsessed

Just constantly having Wade in his lap, not letting her get more than an arms reach away unless absolutely necessary for their little scams

Girl why you always in my inbox as anonymous.

Were friends. How am I supposed to tag you in cool posts if I dont know who you are.

I do like genderfluid wade and ive been messing around with them for a bit. Wade is literally the "I think im gender fluid but theres a gunfight going on 24/7 so idc about that rn"

So if logan were to genuinely ask, gently bring it up, Hed probably joke at first like wym haha im not a girl and logan would just blink and be like "Just be who you want to be" and suddenly- He's at a dress shop, sitting outside the dressing room awkwardly making eyecontact with the employees who walk by to see him holding 18 different dresses.

"Sir you cant smoke in here"

"You want me to put it out on your forehead?"

When wade comes out theyre in this really pretty kind of pinup dress. "What do you think!?"

Logan sighs, puts it out on his boot and smiles fondly. "Well arnt you gonna spin around?"

So he does and then giggles. "It has pockets!"

So he looks up to the clerk like "What other colours you have of that?"

Wanda has all sorts of dresses now but her signature for gamble nights is a short sparkly one almost similar to sabrina carpenters and a garter with prada heels.

Even pearls. Real pearls to match what ever colour suit logan is wearing. A small "dibs" on her at all times.

By definition Call girl means a sex worker who works by appointment only rather then standing the streets or working for a "any time" brothel.

Sometimes tables get suspicious.

"Whos the girl?"

"Ahh nutin. Just a call girl."

"You pay'er to walk around witcha or smth?"

"Something like that. I play better if I have someone pretty to look at instead of ya ugly mugs."

Pretty much, anyone who makes an appointment dies. Mainly because thats her profession. To butter up her targets, take'em home and then takem out in body bags. Since call girls are "higher class" then regular prostitutes they often have protection with cartel or mafia, especially in this particular setting.

So yeah, sometimes Logan has to grit his teeth and play pimp. "Sell" Wanda off to a sorry sap but it makes him so happy to know she just comes back home and fucks him silly to soothe his jealousy. Its a rush lifestyle. Always on the go, always having the adrenaline of winning or the endorphins of flirting, leading them on, the relief that rushes down wandas back when she finally gets to kill them.

Its a great little scheme they have going on here but sometimes theres more trouble then they bargin for or sometimes one of the players will call wanda ugly and it sets Logan off and sends wade into a hysterical session of tears and refusing to let anyone see them for awhile without any make up on. It pisses patch off a lot actually because he works hard to make sure she feels pretty at all times, even telling her how pretty she is while holding her hair back and their head in the toilet. Cancer is not any kinder to them in this au but at the end of the day if Wanda can make everyone in this room want a piece of his ass while said ass is sitting on Patches lap? Theyre happy.

[espytalks]

Plant update!

Im excited for fall (which is just a less hot summer for us here in florida; it doesnt cool off untill December sometimes) and im growing some pretty exciting stuff!

First, the bell peppers are doing fantastic! Tons of new growth, lots of blooms, a lot of new peppers are starting to grow, and ive got my largest yet steadily growing! Ive been watching it for a week or so now; it got long first, and now its bulking out. Im sooo proud! Finally, a good sized bell pepper!!! I promise it looks bigger irl than in the picture!

Next, carrots. I sprinked the packet into the container a while ago, and because i just didnt know what i was doing, i got a lot of seedlings i gotta thin out. Im hoping i can do that gradually as they get big enough for me to pluck out. Aside from that, theyre doing good, i think.

Second to last pic is garlic chives (left) and lettuce (right). They sprouted earlier this week, so not much to say about that. Dunno how fast im supposed to expect them to grow, but i think lettuce is supposed to be a relatively quick one? Im more excited about the chives, though. Im expecting to use those a lot more regularly.

And last pic is the squash, basil, spring onions, mint, and broccoli. The squash is in full swing now; its suprising seeing how fast some things grow, and how quicly certain plants get big! Its getting flowers on it, and i think in a few days they'll open up. Squash has to be hand pollinated, and im a bit nervous lol. I wanna get a good grade in gardener!

The basil is growing well. I havent been able to harvest enough to use yet, im just pruning it to get it to bush out more.

The broccoli's sprouted, but theres not much else to say about that, and the spring onions are growing kinda slow. I think im gonna have to thin them out a bit. And i also think i wanna just pluck out the mint, and just try again in its own container. Its there in the little corner, but its not growing as well as i hoped, and its probably better to grow mint seperately anyways.

Im thinking of redoing the front porch, so itd be a good opportunity to try growing a lot more decorative plants, like some flowers or hanging vines. Ive also dabbled in the idea of a venus fly trap, or some other kind of carnivorous plant. I'll see what happens when we get around to doing that, cause it could be a ways off, or it could be next weekend. Theres no rush at the moment, but I got a good chunk of money from the yard sale, so hopefully we can look into doing that soon. Or maybe ill just buy myself pokeyman violet as an early bday present.

So yeah! Not a whole lot, but also, its everything! Weird how something so small can be so exciting!