#makes me feel like I need a mf science degree

[bananafishiguro]

reading the jujutsu kaisen manga is like when you can’t hear what someone says but you’ve asked them to repeat it too many times so you just nod and say “yeah.” gege my brother I do not get it

[venturebroes]

ok contining off of my other mlp eqg post , making a higher education list for the humanified ponies yknow!

ok starters , fluttershy! animal caretaker, which i feel is obvious. i mean look at her fucking house. ive seen that you need a highschool diploma which id feel as she would definitely have, and possibly needing a bachelors in something of animal care something of the sorts so, she probably majored in animal husbandry? we know damn well she probably already knew everything pertaining to it tho and minored in.. something. ill go for ecology

ok! rainbowdash! i still think they'd just have a highschool diploma, probably no further education because they'd have the same aspirations as the one in the eqg world. maybe her parents wanted to push them into a community college or something tho and then they went to it for a while then perhaps quit. like that one old mlp series LOL. she'd of course do her best to do whatever the human equivalent of the wonder bolts would be, which is gonna be an athletics team now even tho being a jet flying team would make more sense but whatevs!

aj. of course she would just work on the farm still. nothing past a highschool diploma. she does definitely have a diploma tho and not a GED or anything because she was so young when her parents had passed so she was already used to everything being so fucking hectic so she was able to balance everything (however. i do believe big Mac definitely dropped out of highschool and later in life acquired a GED ) (these mfs HATE cps)

twilight fucking sparkle. the next fucking RULER of GOD DAMN EQUESTRIA. what would she fucking do? the girl who was attending cram school the same time as all of her grade schools by choice, spending her summers at camps for miscellaneous academic upgrades or spent them right under celestias wing. of course she did a 2 year school first, got to butter up the guys that'll give her her undergrad! so im not incredibly sure what a future benevolent totalitarian leader would have as schooling. but since she shows the most interest in science ill say she got an associates in fucking physics or something, then a bachelors in let's say science of business, so she knows how to take care of shit! then of course it's fucking twilight so she'll go on to get her masters and then doctorate in something so. yaknow

pinkie pie, same as eqg she's getting an associates in culinary! with her highschool diploma of course. due to where she grew up id imagine she didn't have a very good highschool schooling experience, with the bare minimum classes and all. perhaps later in life, she'd go and get a degree in business because of how she takes over the bakery later on , so <3

AND RARITY! of course she also went to a 2 year school at first too. but got a degree in dun dun dun... BUSINESS MATH! and then a bachelors in something of the fashion design sorts. she'd probably have a pretty goof amount of school honestly but id imagine she would get her masters much later on in life. probably a business networking thing or something

and the man who inspired it all.... DISCORD!!!!! PRE SCHOOL TEACHER!!!!! the way i know that this man is a fucking genius. and just did NOT apply himself for SHIT in highschool LMAO. only reason he got into college is from a baller ass letter of recommendation. started off with community college probably, and honestly i think he was doing some sort of math. maybe business math like rarity! or mathematical finance even tho they sound like the same thing... and then gets a bachelors in psychology probs! definitely minored in something random as fuck for funzies.. and then at some point i imagine he realized hey, kids? cool as fuck! let me get my masters in education! and he's set since he got that psychology degree

[romanroths]

howdy. my name is mar, i’m 23, i’m out here in est, i go by she/her. this is my emo fuck, roman rothschild as titus. i don’t have a connections page set up yet so fjslkfj. just like this badboi and i’ll come hit you up. so mf excited to be here! feel free to add me on discord @ nyc's salad rat#9307

the basics.

skeleton: titus name: roman alexander rothschild age: 22 faceclaim: nick robinson  gender: cismale  pronouns: he/him degree: chemistry 

the start.

his mother and father were only seventeen when roman was born, freshly out of high school. it would be a lie to dub the pregnancy as anything other than a massive accident, born out of the incessant desire to be known and seen by someone else at that age, right down to your core. what better way to do that then to let them in fully, spreading yourself open so wide that maybe someone might like even the ugly bits of you? maybe they loved each other, but maybe they didn’t. roman never did quite figure it out. they must have at least liked one another to some extent to stick it out, to produce two more lives after him. augustus and lucretia. they weren’t many things but they were consistent. 

new money. how very fitzgerald for a boy from england. how very ironic it is with a name like rothschild. roman’s mother had always claimed they came from royalty, that their blood was tinged with blue. that always seemed like bullshit as far as roman himself was concerned. just because things sounded important did not always mean that they were. but then, one day they were important. fortune has a funny way of finding the most entitled. childhood was almost painfully boring. no traumatic stories or wondrous tales. he was born in bath, and was raised in a flat that was under furnished and a bit small, but cozy nonetheless. he loved it there, and even after moving into their cavernous home in london when the money trickled in, felt more at home in bath amongst the olden architecture. the city was ancient, just like his soul. most of his youth was spent under the sky, devouring books by natural light, a quiet and calm boy who hardly ever even scraped a knee. his mother had resigned herself to looking after roman once he was born, dashing her dreams of being a grand actress for wiping the spit off of roman’s chin. maybe that’s why she harbored a hair of resentment for him. his father went forth to achieve his mba, specializing in computer sciences. he’d later go on to invent some very important, very complicated anti-virus system that ensured the protection of your pc. it was bought and then patented by apple on roman’s eleventh birthday. money was no longer an object. 

graduating to a higher social bracket proved to be more difficult than roman had anticipated. his mother had no issue in the matter, almost immediately swapping her dulled coats and modest silver for furs and diamonds. his father seemed relieved somehow, even if he spent even more time away than before. (though, it was later revealed that this was no longer due to work but due to the twenty-five year old secretary that seduced him. the family functions on a very, don’t ask, don’t tell basis. they all still pretend they don’t know.) even his siblings seemed more taken with their situation, getting lost in harrod’s with his mother, fetching treats they never used to be able to afford and filling their rooms with fun and frill. only roman was miserable. he longed for home. the nosiness of their street caused him to spend the night gaping at his ceiling, tears brimming his eyes. no matter how badly he willed it, he could no longer remember what the air in bath smelled of. he could no longer make out what the local bakery’s hot cross buns tasted like. all the money in the world could not cure his seemingly terminal case of homesickness. 

the preparatory school he attended was a buffet of different flavors of the rich and very posh. some who were even actually were related to the crown, and not in the naive sort of way his mother had claimed. most of them seemed to speak a language of their own, already so determined of their futures. future parliament members just like their parents, or perhaps diplomats. there were even a few children of celebrities, who roman discovered either had a thirst for the crafts of their parents or absolutely abhorred it. there was no middle ground with the children conceived by artists. 

during this period of solitude, roman as we know today was formed. once a sweet and relatively shy boy, he became a scribble of snark, sarcasm, and wit. it was not meant in malice, like many of his classmates and peers thought, but simply his sense of humor, outlook, and demeanor. anyone who was willing enough to befriend him, found him to be composed surprisingly of boyish grins and mischief. he was not the block of ice people made him out to be. all one had to do was offer him the warmth of their trust for him to melt. 

the skill that permitted him into imperium happened somewhat accidentally. worried that their eldest son was falling into a depression, his parents had him seated with a psychologist at fifteen. unbeknownst to him, his mother had stolen the journal he faithfully confided in and presented it to the spidery woman responsible for unspooling the tangle of roman’s thoughts. while she did find some of the contents troubling, most of all she was impressed with the nature in which the boy wrote. a penchant for words, able to bewitch the page and to turn it into the picture perfect image of whatever he envisioned in his brain. poetic and dark, like a brewing storm. she encouraged him to follow this talent, to untether it from his moments of melancholy and allow it to speak for stories. which is what he did. by seventeen he had published two books of poetry, and was working on a murder mystery story, involving two reunited lovers piecing together the murder of a recently deceased childhood friend. despite the fact that the works that he had published were done so anonymously, ashcroft was able to uncover the truth. and so as he entered university, he was accepted with much prestige into imperium. the one and only place that roman felt as though he might belong. that he might actually be happy.

until octavia’s death, of course. 

roman had loved tragedies until he had become one. that all he was now, tragedy with a heartbeat. was it better to love and have it taken from you? or was it better to have not loved at all? all he knows is that he was certain his heart had endured enough when she’d left the first time, he did not know what egregious sin he’d committed to lose her the second time. there was no peace for him anymore. nothing could quell the rainstorm in his soul. not even the things that used to work. laying out in the library with leather books in hand, walking around campus with the rest of the club and laughter in their voice, coffees with too much sugar, the first snowfall. all of it, devoid of anything but misery. ache. death. the only cure would have come in the form of her, octavia’s nimble fingers in his hair. missing her was so jarring, he felt that it was only a matter of time before he too would join her. 

as naive as it was, roman felt grateful for the ghostly visits. first he’d chalked it up to insanity. what else could it be? at least now he could see her, he could hear her, beyond the times when he pulled up videos of her on his phone while the sounds and sights of her were snuffed out by the sounds of his own wailing. he’d rather a shadow of her presence than nothing at all. 

rage came next. he wanted it to be lysander. needed it to be. lysander was responsible for all dissolution of his happiness. it was lysander who had seduced away the one person he’d ever loved. clearly it had to be lysander who had selfishly expelled her from the world too. it felt easier to condense his hatred to one person… roman wasn’t sure if there was enough space left in him to hate anyone else. but to learn this was wrong? roman had no idea what to make of it. it caused him to wet his sheets each night with sweat, to carve bloody moon imprints onto his palms. he felt ravenous for revenge. 

the brain.

[ based off loosely off of: camille preaker, theodore laurie, ponyboy curtis, & draco malfoy ]

+ romantic: it’s no secret that ro is a massive romantic. anyone who saw him interact with octavia could see it clear as day. he genuinely enjoyed the little things in a relationship many thought organically lessened with the hands of time. however, he continued to be spontaneous, attentive, and sweet. he continued with love notes, and presenting flowers whenever he could. even in the way he looked at his love seemed to be veiled in something ancient, something innate like he’d always known her in all of his lives. roman’s romanticism did not stop at tiv, though. it leaked into his poetry, as intense wafts of emotions always seem to steal our words. but there is even a romantic manner in which he treats his friends. he’s a little bit of your boyfriend when you’re close enough friends, to be perfectly honest. the boy has a earnest love for making those he cares for feel looked after. not all loves are amorous in nature, but that does not mean they are not to be cultivated with the same dedication to magic as the one he shared with his beloved. 

+ empathetic: sometimes a negative, mostly a positive roman has the unbearable burden of a heart too large for his mind. he sees whispers of goodness in every person (save for fucking lysander) even if he does not want to. if someone is under duress, or is wallowing in some sort of pain, roman’s instinct is to alleviate their plight. sometimes it comes begrudgingly, as though someone is holding a gun to his temple to execute such a task. not even a hint of a smile dressing his face, but he does it nonetheless, knowing he may be robbed of his sleep if not. but for his friends, he’d gladly die doing right by their hearts. 

+ noble: perhaps roman is of aristocratic blood after all, because roman is the most noble of them all. he’s not quite sure when the moral compass forged itself into his soul, and when it began to guide nearly all of his actions, but one day he woke up and was highly aware of the importance of sticking to one’s words. once he adopts something as the decent thing to do, he has a hard time shaking it. it shackles him. it ensnares him to do the right thing each time. for this reason, he’s been in trouble a few times for sticking his nose where it doesn’t necessarily belong, getting into tiffs with moronic bullies who pick on others or sleazy men with wandering hands. sometimes he wishes he could just mind his own fucking business. it certainly may have prevented him a black eye or two. 

- cynical: you could almost say that from the moment that roman kissed octavia, he could taste the doom on her lips. he certainly did not anticipate her grim ending, but he always knew she was too good for him. too beautiful, too happy, too perfect. just as her fickle gaze wanders, so shall she. but, this frame of mind was not unique to just this singular circumstance, it was roman’s entire mantra. all good in life would be expunged from him eventually. one must always anticipate the worst, and be pleasantly surprised when things pan out. for example, he’s a writer and yet he studies chemistry. why? because he’s afraid that his writing isn’t as good as he believes and will need a fall back. as of now, his fallback is pharmaceutical school. he finds happy endings in movies to be unbelievable. how is it realistic that everyone ends up happier than ever? bullshit. no fucking way. 

- self-destructive: (tw: drug/alcohol mention) he drenches himself in gasoline with the cynicism, but he lights the match by participating in self-destructive behavior. drinking and drugs become a regular part of ro’s life when he’s lounging in a pool of his own pain. he finds it best to numb it, to muffle the screams of doubt in his head with sharp shops of bourbon and snowy lines of cocaine. besides, he always tells himself it may make him a more interesting writer. what’s life without a little scandal, anyway? 

- aloof: despite having a pure heart, roman has a difficult time expressing himself. with page and pen, he manages to do so, but in person? to unlatch your cage of ribs and let someone inside? to watch the softness in your eyes when you admit a secret, or a snippet of deep affection? his shrink had chalked it up to the fact his parents never told him that they loved him. awkward kisses on the head on birthdays and maybe a stiff hug or two in between, but roman himself has always had a painfully hard time coming across as soft as he truly was, no matter how hard he tries. 

the quirks. 

has a tattoo of joan of arc on the left side of his ribcage. that sounds poetic but he also has a tattoo of the lochness monster with sunglasses on that he got while drunk in mexico one summer break.

presses flowers. usually he presses them to make bookmarks. leaves his favorite ones in his favorite books at the library for people to enjoy. if you ask him directly if he’s behind this random kindness though, he’ll tell you to fuck off.

has a pet goldfish that he’s successfully kept alive for six whole fucking years. her name is peaches. i think he’d fully lose it if peaches kicks it sometime soon too.

incredibly gifted when it comes to billiards. is known to drive further out of town to new bars to hustle people for money.

very much a “here’s my other headphone, let’s stare out the window together depressively” when on buses and train with his friends.

if you listen really hard in the library at like 8 pm, you will find him softly cry into the last book octavia checked out. come say hi, pals!

has very conflicting senses of style. likes clean lines and pristinely clean shirts and slacks which he then pairs with his most worn out chucks, and most lived in sweaters. if his shoes are clean and tidy then he has to be in a leather blazer. has this man ever brushed his hair in his life? absolutely not, but literally nothing he owns will ever appear wrinkled.

only has one pin on his leather messenger bag: “eat the rich” it says, as if he and literally most of his friends don’t consist of “the rich.”

his favorite book is love in a time of cholera

is a bit sentimental. he’s the type to keep movie tickets and receipts from good days he’s had with friends. he has them all in a big box, and when things are too heavy to bear he likes to sift through it all and remember all the pieces in time where things didn’t feel so ghastly. 

carries around a disposable camera. roman’s too lazy to get into actual film, but he likes the concept of physical photos, so he’ll usually have his wallet, keys, a book, and the shitty camera stuffed into his coat at all times. please note that his keys have an obnoxious amount of keychains for a man of his age. his favorite one is a koala whose eyes pop out when you squeeze it, gifted to him by his little sister. keeps a photo of his sister, octavia, and his best friend in his wallet, always.

he still hasn’t finished his book. needless to say, his publisher is really fucking pissed. every time someone brings it up, he says, “it’s almost done.” it’s not. not even close.

always always always makes wishes in fountains. keeps coins on him just for that purpose. and no, he never does reveal what he actually wishes for. 

the letter.

tivi, 

the other day i read somewhere that drowning is relatively quick. between the midst of the panic and terror, the average person only has between thirty to sixty seconds before they involuntarily suck in a mouthful of water. the pain of this process is supposed to be so severe, that you pass out. but just before you do, the lack of oxygen sends you into a state of euphoria. you feel nothing but the swath of water’s gentle embrace. it blankets your thoughts, and the water’s clasp around you is meant to bring you comfort, the same way babies like pools. it feels maternal, safe. i used to think love was like that. both terror and elation ribboned and sandwiched down into a single person. it was morbid, to compare death and love, i know that now. but perhaps my self conscious was always preparing me for this. the death of you. the death of my heart. the death of all things colored and pure in this life, all of which is to be buried with you and our child. do you think our baby would have liked pools? 

the pain is visceral. i can feel it, heavy and harsh in my lungs. in the crevices of my bones. in my arms, where the warmth of you lacks. i can even fucking taste it, even the bitter burn of scotch turning to ash in my mouth. no one knows how to approach this, or what to say to me. i keep receiving tight-lipped looks of people awash with pity and sympathy. you always hated when i cried. i did that a lot, didn’t i? a stupid fucking commercial about a father taking his daughter to ballet class and suddenly i’ve got my fists balled up hot and tight, and my eyes are at the ceiling trying to evaporate the ocean in my face. you were the only one i felt safe enough to be a complete an utter wreck in front of. but don’t worry, your headstone will get regular updates of my too loud, too long series of sobs. i’ll be forever faithful. 

i found ten synonyms in the thesaurus for “miss.” pine for, long to see, ache for, feel the loss of, regret the absence of, yearn for, feel nostalgic for, long for, need. none of them seem to fit this all consuming rot that you left behind in my heart. nonetheless, each of these substitute meanings live inside me. when i walk, i can feel them all shifting around, clashing around my insides, against one another, like bits of a snow-globe. except none of this feels glittery. i know it sounds childish, but before the day begins, and just as the misery begins to sink in, my first instinct is always to reach for my phone and call you to tell you about it. there was always honey to be found in your words. god, i fucking miss you.  

i have much to thank you for. it’d be naive to believe i could shrink all of it down into a single page, but i’ll try my best to do you justice. thank you for your patience, that of a saint at times. thank you for allowing me the great honor of your affection. thank you for every shard of laughter you extended to me. thank you for never calling me out on being a fucking awful dancer when i most certainly was. thank you for being the shepherd to my darkest secrets. [ REDACTED SECRET, BAYBEEEE ]  thank you for existing in my life, and washing my world with worth. i wish i could forget it now, but i’m afraid i’ll be chasing this, you, for the rest of forever. at least i have something to chase, i guess. thank you, thank you, thank you. 

tiv, wherever you are… please know that i love you and have loved you from the very moment we met. i would have died for you, but i don’t know if i can live like this for you. i feel carved out, hollow. you took with you every glimmer of light i had left. it’s too dark now… and enough of the prose for a second, i keep crying so god damn much i can barely see. like literally, i think fucking going blind too now. great. guess it really is dark now, huh baby? you would have hated this joke. 

come back. even just for a little while. i love you. i love you, i love you. should have said it more. 

i love you. 

forever yours, 

ro

the extras. 

pinterest board

spotify playlist

thank you for reading all of this if you did lol.

[microglia]

ive been doing a lot of personal posting on here recently which is probably bc im socializing with 0-2 people daily but im really frustrated that i dont know what my housing situation is like next semester and afaik im going to be living with six other people in an enclosed space which is not safe at all and i feel like going back to campus is pretty much just accepting that im gonna get sick and that makes me so mf anxious but also like if i dont go back then i cant go back to lab and do research and i need to do research for myself but also for my degree and i want to so bad but i cant trust the other people im living w to be vigilant and safe and clean and i just wish i lived in a society where people trusted and valued science and cared about each other and also there wasnt a global pandemic

[thetruthisnow-blog1]

Tickling fake and real

Fake but real Warning: deep This is a long post / story and probably a serious one in a way, however I'll try to keep it as entertaining as possible. I just want to see what people think of this and these places are probably going to be the only response I will get from people who at least halfway understand me. I am a male in my 20s and I have had this fetish as far back as I can remember. To be honest with you it completely dominates my fantasies, its the only thing I've ever been aroused by. I've always had an obsession with tickling before it was even possible for me to find it sexual, I remember there was one cartoon that I used to play over and over again because it had a tickle scene in it, and that was one of my earliest memories, so obviously somthing in my mind was always attached to it. I am not ashamed of this fetish in fact I feel somewhat bad for people who don't have it because they don't know what they're missing IMO. However it has its dark side. When I was young and even in a way kind of now, I dispised the feeling of being a lee. Don't get me wrong it still arouses me tbh somtimes even more than lering but it can be extremely unpleasant at the same time and even as involuntary as the laugh response itself. Even though this may make me sound pathetic, it hurt me somehow internally, in my mind when this happened to me when I was young. (I have been mugged in my life to the point I had to go to the hospital , I have been through hard withdrawals, sure I'm not the biggest victim in the world but the point I'm trying to make is that I'm not a complete pussy either) I've been through my share of pain but that particular feeling stuck with me. Either way eventually I discovered tickle porn and not long after that I figured out how to masturbate. It was the best feeling in my life. It was literally like the gates of heaven opening. The first video I remember was just of a random woman loling while her feet were tickled. I remember it felt so good I did it again straight away. That day I changed internally it was like a lot of bad feelings just went away. Not all bad feelings but a lot of them. I only ever had one relationship andonly had one nights with two other females. All of that happened in the space of one year and it wasn't until years after I'd already discovered tickle videos. I tickled a few times during my relationship (she did to me as well) it didn't bother me though cos she was ticklish / acted as if she was if i tickled back and that made me feel ok. At the time though I didn't really fully understand women like I think I do today, and I've not been with a female since I I figured them out. Not because I dont like them, but because my life has become far to busy ATM to be dealing with men or women that I dont have to deal with. But my whole life I still had this feeling that there was something about women that didn't make sense. I had somthing of an inner feeling of paranoia and fear directed at women. I always had this feeling from an early age that the ticklish reaction from women was fake. The idea was not somthing I liked the thought of, my dream of being in a relationship had been being with a Lee. The idea of a woman faking or not being ticklish made me feel insecure because that means that she doesnt share my weaknesses and therefore wouldn't understand me. This depressed me at an early age when I thought these things because it made it seem like there is nothing to aim for in life, which is a pretty cynical view. It is just such a weird feeling and as far as I'm concerned its true. When I was in college I learned about eye movements and lying. You can tell if someone is lying by their eye movements. I decided to put this to the test with that question hoping that I could shake the feeling but it turns out that women really are faking being ticklish. Whenever I saw a female answer the question "are you ticklish?" if she answered yes her eyes would go in the lying direction and the truth direction if she said no. I think I noticed it by accident at first but I kept digging deeper until I was checking videos online of females answering that question. The eye movement always match up, too many times for it to be a coincidence. So after a long time it all starts making more and less sense at the same time. In a way this knowledge confirmed my fears but at the same time it evaporated them. It's like a huge weight off your shoulders to figure out the thing that your brain has been subconsciously saying your entire life but your conscious brain doesn't want to believe it at least not without proof. Then like I said I got proof. The truth is in the eyes and I found it. As much as this launched a string of depression in my life when I realised it, it ended eventually, and now even though women are not allperfect and a lot of them can do bad things as can a lot of men, I have to at least say that some of them I have developed a sense of empathy for and even respect, which some of them deserve in my opinion, because the fact that they're willing to laugh is in my opinion a sign that they've devolped respect or at least empathy for men. There is a difference between men and women when it comes to this fetish because women are by default of nature the natural dominants when it comes to this activity, however some of them have proven they have empathy and risen above it. Even though they cannot feel the mans pain when it comes to this, some of them still laugh, meaning that every time I have ever watched a mf or ff video, every time that a woman has lold at my touch in the past, it has been of her own will. Even if they do it for self gain a lot of the time e.g. money (in videos) it's still nice to know in my opinion that some of them are decent enough to actually be willing to be submissive and pretend to be ticklish even though they're not (I still respect / empathize with them and appreciate them if they do it for money, its fair exchange and they deserve money for laughing while being tickled on video, it still requires effort for them to take time out of their day to do it). I can't imagine how empty my life would have been if I'd never had the good times with tickle porn. I'd be a far more miserable person today if it wasn't for porn. At the same time I feel that women need to take value in the fact that this activity is somthing that requires exra sympathy for men, and personally I think i could tolerate being a Lee as long as I also get to ler when it's my turn even though I know its fake, it still feels good in my mind. In a way it makes it better , because it's like telling reality to go fuck itself. My fantasy was to be with a woman that shares my ticklishness, god has made women not ticklish, but some women still let me live out my fantasy by playing Lee / loling by choice and giving me the feeling of being a ler. In one way, when you get this knowledge you realize that no women are lees, but at the same time you realize that all women are lees, if you get what I'm saying, any of them can be a Lee if they want to be, they can consciously decide to be a lee. To the women out there that act in these videos, I am extremely greatful for these in ways I cannot possibly explain. I dont even think all men are ticklish, or at least some of them are barely ticklish, but I know from what I've figured out using science and even just the feeling in my head, that women are not ticklish without deliberarley laughing on a whole. This may seem depressing at first but the more you think about it the more you realize how much a female Lee is a person that doesn't really get credit for how cool she is. If it wasn't for these women, I'd have never seen a woman be ticklish in my entire life, but because of porn I've seen it no end of times. But not just because of porn , also because of the surprising good nature of what appears to be a lot of women. At the same time I feel its somewhat unfair that tickling isn't really addressed as potentially abusive a lot of the time and also it seems weird to me that why has a scientist not figured this out yet? This is Somthing that is unique to men with and its not even common knowledge that its only men that go through it. Even though I'm extremely greatful for all of the women lees (and when I say Lee I dont mean a woman that neccisarily acts ticklish all of the time, even if its just one time it still counts) I think that women still need to be sympathetic to some degree with men when it comes to tickling because they really dont know how bad it can be. If you're going to tickle a man I dont think its much to ask just to laugh if he tickles you back. It doesn't even matter if he knows you're laughing deliberately, if anything he'll just appreciate you more. Personally I think I'm done with relationships even though my experiences with women in the past have mostly not been negative, I'm just happy with porn and women dont throw themselves at me anyway and I CBA to out of my way to try to impress them. When it comes to the fake thing, yes women's ticklish reaction is fake, but that is what makes women so awesome, cos if it wasn't for them I wouldnt have all the good memories and experiences I've had of being a ler or watching porn with women tickling each other (f/f is always the best IMO) I dont know how many men or even women are aware of this I just find it strange that its not common knowledge? If you are a female reading this that is a lee, my message to you as a man is I really appreciate that there are women out their like you, but please take some sympathy in the fact that some men can find being tickled unpleasant and unless youve experienced being truly ticklish, then you really have no idea how bad it can be. if you lol if he tickles you back if you've already tickled him I think that stops most or all of the bad feelings at least for me. Anyone else had any similar experiences? I hope this helps anyone that is cofused about reality like I used to be. Peace.

[baskny-blog]

NOLA's Grosser Gets Personal; Raps, Relationships, and Reality on His New Project "PONY"

Photography: Connor Crawford

Rarely does a project from an underground artist manage to strike the intricate three-way balance between raw emotional content, well executed and thoughtful rhyming finesse, and most importantly, organized packaging that is clear and concise. New Orleans based artist Grosser manages to check off all three of these boxes on his second project “Pony,” released January 21st

Production wise, “Pony” is a refreshing menagerie of booming, lo-fi production that thumps with percussive fury. Stylistic tropes of the quintessential southern sound are blended effortlessly with rugged lyricism and delivery that seems to be clearly rooted in the east coast sonic movement. This pleasantly unconventional stylistic pairing is in many ways a metaphor for Grosser himself as an artist; a VA born and raised emcee transplanted to New Orleans, a city rich with hip hop history.  

“Pony” as a project functions almost like a Pandora’s box of emotion; once you open the lid the emotion literally flies out. Grosser seems to share his deepest self with his listeners; with depression leading to despair, and finally manifesting in the cold, steeled sense of determination present throughout the entire project. This honest and thoughtful display of emotion makes “Pony” as relatable as it is inspiring; it’s the story of an emcee passionately battling his own depression. The star studded features on “Pony”, including Chicago based artist LUCKI (f.k.a. Lucki Eck$) serve to further strengthen the ability of “Pony” to stand alone as a complete project. Raw talent, thoughtful honesty, and a focused aesthetic make “Pony” a must listen and confirm Grosser as an underground emcee that deserves close attention.

  Photography: Ben Davis

I had a chance to chat with Grosser about himself as an artist, “Pony” as a project, his creative process, and the next steps for him and his sound.  

B: Let's start basic: where are you from, what’s your background, and when did you start rapping? Grosser: I was born and raised in Virginia, and then moved to New Orleans for college. I graduated from Tulane with a degree in philosophy and political science, and couldn't even come close to bringing myself to leave NOLA after I graduated. As far as rapping, I was freestyling with homies a bit at the end of high school and a lot in college, and then started writing stuff down when I was about 19. I've always been playing music though. I've played drums for over a decade and played other instruments throughout my childhood and adulthood. Rapping became my outlet as I grew older and my life circumstances began to drastically change. B: What would you say your biggest sonic influences are in general, including music outside of hip hop? G: This is a question I take very seriously I'd say the first band to really influence me deeply was Rage Against the Machine, who I probably still consider to be my favorite band. I was influenced by politically driven hip hop at first, like Immortal Technique and shit. Now a days I'm genuinely influenced by the whole spectrum, from popular top 40 to very lo-fi indie music. Obviously I'm drawn to Atlanta, Chicago, LA, New York, you know, cities with hip hop strongholds, but I'm also influenced by all the various niche movements - like what's happening in Broward county, FL right now, and all the infinitely deep corners of soundcloud in general.  I have a bunch of friends in bands here in New Orleans so I have a decent pulse on the general indie band scene. Finding new music and new influences is what gets me up in the AM.  

B: Wordup, what would you say your biggest hip hop influences have been? G: Yeesh - at the start it was just the 90s and the greats -  Nas, ‘pac, Zack de la Rocha, Immortal Technique, Tribe, Eminem, Kanye, Wayne, Company Flow, Dilla, MF DOOM, stuff like that. Then I became obsessed with Earl, still am, and now find myself influenced by a ton of different modern hip hop shit - Travis Scott, all of OF, Thug, Future, Carti, A$AP. The list is low key endless because I can be influenced not only by someone's sound but also their place in the culture/the fabric of the genre. I don't rap like Uzi but I'm definitely enamored by his and someone like Yachty's aesthetic. However, if I had to pick one rapper that I was straight taking notes from, teaching myself how to rap, it’s definitely Earl back when I was in college. Earl is a fucking mastermind - raps wise and production. B: As a white rapper, what do you feel your role is in hip hop right now, given both the tumultuous situation the country is in right now, and the revolutionary origins of the genre itself? G:  I think it's massively important for white people to be doing a lot more listening than talking, so that's what I'm focusing on. Listening to the POC and women in my community and those affected by all this madness more so than I. I'm very attracted to and identify with the revolutionary roots of hip hop.

B: If you could sum up “Pony” in three thematic concepts what would they be?  

G: I'd say the three most prevalent themes of “Pony” are the idea of self concept, battling w and understanding mental health, and relationships. B: What did this project mean to you? What do you want this project to mean for the listeners? G: First and foremost, I'm always trying to grow with each new project, even every new song I write, so that was my primary goal. I wanted to sound of “Pony” to impact the listener in a personal way, really invade the listeners brain and shit, both sonically and lyrically. But, I also see great benefit from being able to play something in public and have it be enjoyable to a general mass of people, so I try to maintain some form of radio-esque sensibility in what I'm writing these days. For the listener, I wanted “Pony” to be somewhat of a self-exposure; I find that that's generally why I make music period. I tend to feel, as many do, wholly unknown by everyone around me, and music is a way to show someone what's really going on in a matter-of-fact way. B: Talk about the influences of New Orleans and NY on your sound, as well as the ways in which these cities are different and/or the same. G: What I'll say is you just have to come here. New Orleans got me as a young kid and has turned me into an adult real fast. It's not America here, more like the northern Caribbean. The general swagger and demeanor the people is what I feed off of the most - it's pretty much impossible for one's surroundings to not bleed into their art. NY is a city that I personally have less experience in, but have spent time there and have immersed myself in the culture via art - mainly music but also visual art and poetry. I always feel like I have much less privacy in NY than in NOLA - just by nature of the design and population. New York artists were obviously the first to teach me about rap, and invented the genre itself, so I obviously owe a lot to the culture and people of NY. B: What do you think of the direction of hip hop currently, mainstream and underground? G: Shit, I think it's a goddamn renaissance. I do however think that the rapping ability of these modern guys gets overlooked and misjudged pretty immediately for a myriad of reasons; addiction to the culture over content, media representation, vocal inflection, the list goes on.  Admittedly, some of these 'rappers' aren't rapping, they are more after a pop music icon mold. That being said, the same judgements of inability were bestowed on to Young Thug until everyone looked up the lyrics to 'Halftime' on genius and tried to rap along with him, immediately realizing how fucking money he is...point being, a lot of these guys can flat out spit.

Grosser: To Me, It has some similarities to the abstract expressionist movement in the 60's and 70's. Artists were ridiculed for their lack of precision, style, ease of making work, abundance of work, perceived difficulty of work, etc etc. Just because someone closed their eyes while splattering a canvas with one color of paint doesn't remove it from genius. A similar mindset and ear; understanding this music as a 'avant-garde' movement, while treading lightly on classic examples of excellence is much needed for understanding/enjoying the raw talent of a lot of these guys. Don't get me wrong, there are a million wack rappers out there who I don't fuck with, but I just don't think that if someone doesn't bring a classically fire 16 then that removes them from the upper crust of hip hop. It’s all cyclical though, I wouldn’t be surprised if hyper-lyrical rap takes the main-stage in the coming years.

B: Art is often a reflection of life. Talk about the process; the feelings, events, passions, and people that went into the creation of “Pony”. G: I mean, for sake of not getting overly dark I won't get too deep into the details, but I had a woman in my life, and, for a thousand and one reasons, but largely due to my own deteriorating mental health at the time, it wasn't a safe or healthy relationship. All of those emotions, my battle with clinical depression, and the realities of living with all the other fun disease titles doctors want to assign are embedded into “Pony”, and pretty much all the art I do in general. Apart from my past relationship and personal battles with mental health, the concepts of truly knowing oneself (very difficult), and truly knowing other people (more difficult, probably impossible), drive a lot of my lyrical content. B: As an artist, if you could tell yourself one thing two years ago what would it be? What would you say to yourself two years from now? Where do you hope to be? G: If I could give myself a piece of advice two years ago I would say to put a chokehold on every penny you have an only spend money collabing with people that you really trust and you know you can benefit from. In two years I hope to have a big Internet following based off my music, you know, lots of Twitter and Soundcloud followers and all that, in addition to making records that people truly respect as great art. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream about fame, but my most important goal is to make music that leaves an impact with each listener, every single time.

Photography: Erica Lipoff