#mom was discussing with me about old rock music

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 14

WIP Wednesday is happening this week! I would've had it up an hour or two ago, but I ended up having to run an emergency errand for my mom to keep her friend's car from being towed. But it's all been taken care of!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Note: Anyone who still doesn't know which episode I'm basing this arc on should know by the end of this segment. I did realize I made a mistake, though. The invading ghosts are Walker's guards. In the episode, up to this point the trio never refer to them as such. The audience, however, sees Walker send them in. I took that as Danny and co didn't realize they were Walker's people. But as I was going through minute-by-minute while writing, Danny does call them Walker's goons. So he knew the entire time. I'm adjusting that going forward and I'll retroactively make the edits before posting to AO3.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Everyone left Sam’s house at the same time. The Amity crowd had to get to school and no one felt comfortable staying at Sam’s house while she wasn’t home. As they ate a quick breakfast, Tim noticed Conner’s fingernails were painted.

“Looks good, Kon,” he commented.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “I did them last night while you and Danny were sleeping. Introduced him to actual music, too.”

Conner grinned. “She’s promised to burn me some CDs before we go.”

“A mixed tape is the only valid way to share music,” Sam agreed. “And if he’s gonna rock the punk look, he should know the punk culture, too.”

Tim laughed. “Well, looks like we know what we’ll be listening to on the way home. Will you need a CD player, Kon?”

“Is my laptop not good enough?”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Come to Gotham with me. I know I have an old one lying around. Nothing like listening to a CD while lying somewhere, wired headphones tangling up as you shift position. If you want the authentic experience, that’s the only way to go.”

Conner shrugged, clearly unsure. “If you say so.”

Danny yawned. “You’re giving him Dumpty Humpty, right?”

Sam snorted. “Am I giving him Dumpty Humpty? Who do you think I am? Of course I am!”

“Good. You can’t introduce someone to good music and leave out Dumpty Humpty.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, you’ve gotten me into them. They’re fun. You’ll like them, Kon.”

“You played a song or two by them last night, right?” Conner asked.

Cassie nodded. “Yep. That’s who she was playing when Tucker, Bart, and I left to get some sleep in the other room.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. I liked them.”

“Of course you did,” said Sam as she flicked her hair. “I have excellent taste.”

Tucker was typing away on his PDA. “So what’ll you be doing while we’re in school?”

Tim grimaced. “I was thinking of hitting up the local library. We want to learn more about the ghosts. But also B has said that a condition of allowing me to extend my trip is that I keep up with my own schoolwork. So I have some catch up to do.”

Danny waved his spoon at him. “And you get on me for not doing my work.”

“Yeah, but you want to graduate and, like, go to college and shit. The stuff I want to do doesn’t require a diploma of any kind. B’s just making me do it because he society has convinced him it’s important.”

Tucker’s PDA alarm went off. “And that alarm means if we’re not out the door in five minutes, we’re gonna be late.”

Everyone groaned as they pushed away from the table and collected their belongings. The walk into town was filled with music discussion. Bart and Conner mostly listened and took note of recommended bands and musicians. Sam tended to know the most obscure stuff, but Tim knew some foreign bands from his time in Europe that no one else had heard of.

The walk was, thankfully, not disturbed by ghosts, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off several times.

“Didn’t your parents make a device that can track ghosts?” asked Tim the third time he complained. “Would that help you locate them?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, I’ll have to see if I can find it. My parents stopped using it when it kept zeroing in on me. It was too loud for stealth use, though, and loudly went off anytime I was in range. And it didn’t work great for a 3D environment. So Tucker and I would have to develop a new display that can tell me if one is above or below me.”

“I should be able to help, too. You know how good I am with computers.”

“If I can find the device or blueprints, I’ll take you up on that.”

Not long after, they had to say goodbye at the entrance to Caspar High. Dash and his friends also arrived at about the same time. The group stared at Danny, but didn’t move to interact.

“Think they’re still overshadowed?” asked Conner, mirroring Tim’s thoughts.

“God, I hope not,” said Danny.

“But knowing our luck…” Sam trailed off.

Tim sighed. “Keep your distance as much as possible.”

“I know, mom.” Danny rolled his eyes. The school bell rang and he adjusted his backpack strap. “Gotta go. Have fun at the library.” His sarcasm was very evident and he hugged Tim.

The gesture surprised him and his return hug was slightly delayed. “I think I’ll find more than enough to amuse me there.”

With a quick goodbye, the trio rushed off before they could be late.

“So,” said Cassie, “Sam and Tucker seem to have a ton of ideas about you and Danny.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Danny and I only met in person less than forty-eight hours ago.”

Bart nudged him. “And yet you’re already sleeping in the same bed and giving each other goodbye hugs.”

“I do the same with you guys.” He pulled out his phone to check the location of the library. “Come on, let’s just get to the library. I want to see if they have a digital subscription to the local paper we can use.”

Tim didn’t get much schoolwork done that morning, but he did find out Danny was originally named Inviso-Bill by the press and immediately began planning ways to prank him with that knowledge.

For the rest, he compared what was reported vs what had actually happened with past ghost attacks. One thing was clear, Danny needed much better PR. Hopefully being seen working with the Young Justice would help. And maybe Sam would actually listen if he tried to give pointers on how to manage public perception.

Shortly after noon and before Tim could even pretend he was about to switch over to school work, his phone rang.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”

“Tim! Do any of you speak Esperanto?”

“Uh… I don’t. Let me ask Bart.” He lowered the phone to ask.

“Esperanto? What’s that?” asked Bart.

“I’ll explain later,” said Tim. Back into the phone, he added, “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s going on?”

“So… You remember that wolf ghost with the collar? Walker’s goons are after him, too. I’m not sure why since he only speaks Esperanto. I got him away from both them and my parents. Think you can keep him safe until school is out? If I miss any more class I’ll be grounded until graduation. Senior graduation.”

Tim gestured to his friends to pack everything up. “Yeah, sure. Where are you right now? I’ll have Bart meet you first and the rest of us will follow.”

Danny gave him directions to a forested area behind the school which Tim relayed to Bart. As soon as the group was out of the library, Bart rushed ahead to Danny.

Over the phone, Danny let him know Bart had arrived. “Oh, and Tucker just got here, too. Excellent. He can speak Esperanto as well. Looks like he’s explaining things to big and hairy over here.”

“Great. We’ll be there soon as we can.”

“Can we fly there?” asked Conner.

Cassie nodded. “People would just think we’re more ghosts.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Superboy and Wonder Girl were seen in town just last night. No.”

Conner stuck his tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.”

“Relax. It’s not far. GPS has us in the general location in, like, ten minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” sighed Cassie. “We’ll be good.”

Tim elbowed her with a grin. “Now, I never said you had to do that.”

Conner laughed. “So, what is this Esperanto language, anyway? I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a conlang based on European languages that’s supposed to be easy to learn. The idea was to make a sort of common language for Earth without promoting a single language like English. It hasn’t gained a lot of traction, though. And if Bart doesn’t know it, then it likely won’t.”

“Huh, weird. Why do you think a werewolf ghost know an Earth-based conlang?”

“Oooh! I bet it’s because he’s the manifestation of some teenage girl’s OC,” offered Cassie.

Tim laughed. “Or maybe the OC of one of the people to create Esperanto.”

Conner shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. He’s from an alternate future where Esperanto did take off and a werewolf virus spread among humans.”

The ten minute walk was filled with more and more outlandish theories ending with the wolf being the reincarnation of Jesus who was trying to bring humanity together through the reinstitution of a common language like in the pre-Tower-of-Babel days.

At the edge of the woods, Tim nudged Conner. “Can you hear where they are?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

And then it was less than two minutes before Tim could see them. “Oi! Danny!” he called out with a wave.

Danny flew over to them and hugged him. “Thank you so much! You’re gonna save me so many detentions.” He grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him towards Tucker and the ghost. “Tim, this is Wulf. Wulf,” Danny said while making eye contact, “Friends.” Then he slowly pointed to each person and said their name.

Tucker rolled his eyes and repeated the information in Esperanto. Tim recognized his and his teammates names and many of the words felt familiar. Likely since he knew or was learning a few European languages.

“So, will we just hang out here for the next few hours until you get out of school?” asked Tim.

“Yeah. It’ll only be about two and a half hours. That okay? Then we’ll go back to Sam’s place. We can hide in her basement.”

“We’ve hung out in worse places for longer,” said Bart. “This is practically cozy. And me or one of the others can run into town for food and supplies. Anything you want from your parent’s place? Food? Snacks?”

Tucker grinned. “If you could get some jerky, that’d be great. No meat at Sam’s.”

Danny laughed. “If we think of anything else, one of us will text it to the group chat.”

An alarm buzzed on Tucker’s PDA. “We’ve got to get back now.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

-----

Next

So, more banter and more plot! We're almost starting to get somewhere! This marks roughly the halfway point of the episode. And the arc is almost 25k words. This is why I take forever to publish anything. It always spirals out of my control. Even this section, I originally opened with them in the library. But then I remembered I wanted to have Sam paint Conner's nails and that led to me adding over 900 words to the beginning.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but if you make your way to the subscription post, you can set it up so you get notified when this updates.

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Better Than Before - Next to Normal Chapter 3

Gonna get us back to good times and forget the things we should

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Usually, Marie would be pissed that a group meeting got postponed - her schedule is already packed tight - but her lesson with Petrov had been particularly brutal that morning and she was just glad she had time to do anything else. Which is how she ends up wandering around town, past the series of townhouses that professors and upperclassmen would rent, and into a warm and cozy record shop called 104 Records that smelled like chamomile, honey, and dust. Far from the exclusionary better-than-you vibes of the shops she’d frequented before, this felt like the kind of place you’d want to go to. The kind of place an older sibling would bring you to show you “real music.”

There was a smaller Asian woman behind the counter who smiled warmly at her and waved. This was exactly what she needed - it felt like a spot of sunshine in the cold of the early spring day. It wasn’t fancy, and the records seemed to not be organized at all, but for once, that didn’t bother her too much. There was something exciting about not knowing what would come next. Bowie, then the soundtrack to some old movie musical called Girl Crazy, a French rock album, and a Bob Dylan album were all in the same box. 

That did mean, however, that she couldn’t avoid the memories. Soundtracks to musicals she’d sing in the car with her mom and Annabeth. Rock albums her father would rant endlessly about. Even the more modern music she used to love brought her back to her teenage years in a group home - the part of her past she most likes to box up and put away. Her parents’ death left a permanent stain on her - a guilt she can never assuage and blood she can never fully wash from her skin. And the years after felt like living in an alternate dimension - a prison without locked doors. A veneer of a home over top a place to put Super Delinquents. A place where everyone talked like all that mattered was who you are now when that was the furthest from the truth.

When she was living there, it was hard for her to even discuss her parents, much less the event itself. The guilt and the grief and the fear got all tangled up in her mind, and facing it felt harder than facing any bully or standardized test. No amount of group therapy or beanbag chairs could lower the walls she’d put up around herself. She barely spoke to anyone during the first year - a few of the counselors just gave up. And while everyone was quick to try to tell her it was a terrible tragic accident - that just made things worse. Two sides of herself warred over who was at fault - because it can’t just be an accident. Her parents are gone. Her sister was taken. Her memory is stained in blood and loss. Someone must be at fault for so much pain and grief. At least, that’s how it felt at the time. But over time, things became more bearable. Life moved on. She found ways to honor her family in her daily life, and that helped lift some of the burden. She still has nightmares, still takes Prozac every morning, but she can manage. She’s a survivor. She has to make something of her life, doesn’t she? Prove that she’s more than her past.

There was this lovely alum from the group home who would come in from time to time, and she took a special liking to Marie. They had similar stories, but Vicky had been adopted within a year or so of living at Red River by some politician.

“You know what I miss from home?” Victoria dealt another hand of Crazy Eights - one of the seemingly infinite card games she knew like the back of her hand. “My mom’s records. She would play all sorts of music, especially on Sundays. It would just... fill the whole house. I love my iPod, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the same.”

“I get what you mean. My mom and dad had all these CDs, and the way the music would get muffled throughout the house, or bounced off the walls - it just feels different.” She checked her cards over briefly before discarding a random one. It was never really about the game anyways - Vicky was as close to a big sister Marie would get, and she’d probably enjoy watching paint dry if the older girl was with her.

“Yeah. Plus my dad would sing along. Incredibly poorly.” Marie couldn’t help but giggle with the older girl, almost forgetting that she was remembering her dead parents.

“My mom was a singer, so it was weird when there wasn’t music playing. Even though my dad couldn’t sing for shit.” She said, smiling softly to herself. “He had good taste though. Dylan, Bowie, The Clash... Real dad music.” 

“Ooh, gotta love dad rock. Stan is a huge believer in classical music, so it's rare he plays anything with words.”

Vicky’s presence was a salve to her wounds, but she didn’t fix everything. Marie found herself drifting into memories of her sister making up words to classical songs, and the ache in her chest swelled to fill her throat as she tried to force herself not to remember her sister. The conversation shifted quickly after that, and she was able to force the tears back.

Marie didn’t keep up with anyone from Red River except Victoria - they texted when they could and she promised to come to any of her recitals or plays with, quote, the biggest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever gotten. She didn’t feel the need to point out that she’s never actually received a bouquet of flowers, and couldn’t help but smile at the thought of seeing Vicky again. 

Marie didn’t end up actually purchasing anything from 104 Records, despite spending nearly an hour browsing. She didn’t have a way to play them anyways - even though there were a few that she would’ve loved to listen to. In particular, a deluxe edition of her father’s favorite Ramones album that was clearly well-loved - but she put it on hold instead. Maybe after midterms. She thought to herself as she walked brusquely back to campus. 

Marie felt a bit guilty about not really listening to Emma’s discussion of the ethical implications of her current reality TV obsession, but she couldn’t ignore the nervous energy coursing through her. There were just too many unknowns, and she did not handle spontaneity well. She kept brushing her hands off on her jeans and fiddling with the cuffs of her trench coat, trying to keep up with Emma’s erratic pace.

“Earth to Marie! Sam’s older brother and his girlfriend are going to be there. Two of the most attractive students here. It’s frankly unfair that they ended up together. At least it gives the rest of us ample eye candy.” It baffled her sometimes how the blonde could objectify people so casually, but she knew that Emma didn’t mean anything by it. 

“Ok, so Sam, his brother, his brother’s girlfriend, and the guy from the library?”

“I think Sam mentioned someone else but I can’t remember who they are for the life of me.” She was no longer shocked by Emma’s impressively poor memory, but she did hope that whoever this mystery individual was would be at least tolerable. 

It didn’t take too long for them to find the group of upperclassmen gathered around a couple cars, laughing and passing a joint between them. She recognized a blond boy named Luke from the theater department; he was a child star of some tweeny-bop type show that Marie definitely never watched. His girlfriend was gorgeous -  long, straight platinum hair, leather gloves, and an air of mystery about her. The relaxed guy from yesterday was also there, talking animatedly about something while Luke exhaled a stream of smoke to the sky and Sam, Emma’s curly haired crush, was nervously bouncing on his toes nearby. Jordan Li, of all people, was also there, lurking in the shadows while they leaned against one of the cars, looking gorgeous and generally pissed off. Well - at least it wasn’t the nasally girl from the music hall. 

But Sam seemed genuinely excited to see Emma, jumping a little and waving once the two girls were in view, and Emma’s grin grew even wider as she waved back eagerly and sped up again, forcing Marie to pick up speed as well.

“Hey! Sorry we’re late, I couldn’t find my coat, and then I lost my ID, and,” She cut herself off, her cheeks flushing a light pink. “Anyways. Emma,” She said, smiling and waving again. “And this is my roommate, Marie.” Marie gave a short wave, trying not to get caught checking Jordan out. They had taken the joint from Luke and looked sinful with the paper filter between their lips, tossing their short hair out of their eyes as they exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke. 

“I’m Sam’s brother, Luke, and this is my girlfriend Cate, my roommate Andre, and our friend Jordan.” Andre rolled his eyes, bumping his shoulder against his friends. 

“Don’t be humble, dude - we’re the reigning champions of the local battle of the bands, and the first all supe punk band actually worth talking about.” Andre said, in that kind of forced arrogance that’s all too common in the music business. It didn’t take long for the group to splinter, leaving Marie in Luke’s car with him, Sam, and Emma, while Cate, Andre, and Jordan took Andre’s car. Sam and Emma were chattering away in the backseat, leaving Marie to attempt to make small talk with the golden-haired upperclassman. 

“So, Sam said you guys are dance majors?” Luke said genially, pulling the car out of the parking space cleanly, clicking the blinker on as he eased out behind Andre, making no effort to keep up with the faster car.

“Uh, Emma is. I’m actually majoring in musical theater and mechanical engineering.” She tried to sound casual and not like a braggart or worse, like she was embarrassed of her own ambition. If they’re judgmental of your hard work and drive, they’re not good people. Her mother would remind her of this when the girls at school snickered about her good grades or detailed notes.

“Oh, sick. You’ll fit right in - our friend, Jordan, is in the MechE department, and we’re all into music here. Sam’s into game dev, so we’ve got a nice range of nerds and geeks.” He said good-naturedly, with the kind of charisma that made everyone feel at home. He didn’t make one of the three canned jokes people made when she discussed her majors. (No, there’s not a lot of overlap. Yes, it’s a lot of work. No, my parents aren’t disappointed or proud, they’re dead.) If they can ask the same idiotic questions every time, she can have her own canned answers, thank you very much.

Luke navigated the area with ease, and it felt like no time had passed when he pulled his SUV into the lot at his townhouse. It was only another minute or so before Andre was whipping his car into the other parking spot. Marie thanked whatever higher power that she hadn’t been in his car.

At this point, most of her socializing had been exclusive to on campus affairs. Emma had a few friends in sororities, so most of the parties they went to last semester were in the greek housing part of campus - old looking buildings with slightly too nice furniture and extensive bar setups that no other campus housing could ever even think to have on display. But walking into this just barely off campus townhouse was a very different experience. It was more like what she had been expecting - especially after visiting Vicky’s apartment during October break last semester. Nothing matched, everything looked a decade or two out of fashion, and the alcohol was haphazardly placed on a countertop next to a bong that looked like it had just been cleaned.

“Make yourselves at home - we were just going to hang out, maybe play some games. Sammy showed me this hilarious game off his laptop over the summer-” Luke said genially. 

“Jackbox.” Sam said, opening the door for Emma as she wrestled with her coat before tossing it on the bench by the door. Marie watched as it slid off and onto the floor, before chuckling to herself and hanging it on the coat rack. She shrugged off her own jacket, taking in the easy friendship between Sam and Luke and tried not to let her loss overtake her. 

She read somewhere (to be honest, it was most likely a TikTok Emma sent her) that our grief doesn’t shrink - we simply grow around it. And yet, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to watch the pair of brothers interact with that familial ease that she hadn’t felt in years. She busied herself with making something to drink - more to have something to do with her hands rather than a desire to actually get drunk. 

It was an awkward shuffling of people as the game started - partially because Emma and Sam seemed hellbent on staining her favorite jeans - and she ended up trying to get comfortable on what seems to be a stool stolen from an art studio, right next to Jordan, who looked at home in an emerald green recliner.

She thought about trying to make conversation with the upperclassman, but she didn’t know where to start without admitting that she had noticed them in the Engineering school. She felt a bit like a fish, opening her mouth only to close it again without saying a word. She was strangely relieved when Sam finally got the T.V. to cooperate and they were going to play the game. After some fumbling with her phone (she was still kind of getting used to the thing, a college acceptance gift from Vicky), she was ready to play - and ready for a distraction. Besides, she had a competitive streak that ran deep and she couldn’t help wanting to win at everything she tries - inane party games included.

“You ready to go down, Opera?” Jordan too, seemed relieved to have something concrete to focus on. And apparently, she had earned a sardonic nickname from the brooding upperclassman. The brooding upperclassman who looked way too good with that cocky smirk playing at their lips.

“You wish, Yamaha.” She retorted, knowing the image of Jordan lazily thumbing at their bass would forever be imprinted on her mind. But she didn’t miss the impressed look on their face before it faded back to casual nonchalance.

----

There were a lot of benefits to having your closest friends renting a townhouse so close to campus. For one, Jordan didn’t need to pay for dormitory parking - their car spent most days parked between Andre’s way-too-nice sedan and Luke’s very sensible used SUV that he was using to teach Cate to drive (Luke had brought it in to their shop twice for cosmetic damage that he refused to explain - seems like she isn’t taking to it too well) For another, it was a great neighborhood to run in - with a hot and (mostly) private shower always available. They’d pop over every few mornings, or when she’s feeling stressed, and run their favorite five mile loop up around campus and around their neighborhood.

And best of all, there was a record store and a thrift shop on the same corner - all owned by (seemingly) chill people that don’t blink an eye when Jordan shifts (or curses). She’s pretty sure the thrift shop is owned by a few ex-pop stars who are out of the public eye, but they don’t care enough to confirm it. Besides, that would require them to admit that they watched the Annie Tennesee show as a kid, and they’d really rather not dredge those memories back up. Cate had taken them to the thrift shop last summer, right before the start of their sophomore year. Clearly, the owner and her friends had a blast sourcing everything, as they were often bombarded with stories behind a bizarrely boring series of items. She and Cate still joke about the darling little dish set that was ... just some white plates and bowls.

But the record shop they had stumbled upon of their own volition. The morning after a one night stand cursed her out for “tricking him into fucking a ******” (they may swear like a sailor but some words still feel like worms under their tongue - like speaking an evil into existence), she was planning on talking to no one and hiding out until the sick feeling in their gut dissipated. 

“Every time I think I understand the organizational method for these records, I’m baffled by the next one in the box.” Jordan grumbled to herself, trying and failing to find things to be angry about so they wouldn’t feel so ... hollowed out inside. “I swear I’ve seen a Noir Désir record in the last three boxes.”

A small snort of laughter caught their attention, and her head snapped up to make eye contact with a smaller woman perched on a red leather stool behind the counter. She smiled warmly at Jordan but didn’t say anything to her, going back to her doodling.

“Mon coeur, do not mock Noir Désir - without them, we wouldn’t have Miossec.”  A scruffy frenchman lazily entered the shop from a side door, clearly the owner of the place. With a blur of hands, the woman at the register signed something to the frenchman in the back, giving him an exasperated look. 

“I’m trying to educate the Americans about good rock music - which includes the French. I am not, as you say, indoctrinating the local youths.” She couldn’t hold in another snort of laughter, which made the frenchman look up. Another blur of hands meant that the other woman was signing again. They may not know ASL but they’ve been around it back home enough to know that she was using a different language. But the frenchman clearly understood her,  half-signing and half-speaking in response.

“Do you feel indoctrinated, mademoiselle?” 

“Uh, no. I was wondering who this was, though.” She said, gesturing at the speakers mounted to the ceiling. The woman rolled her eyes fondly as the man (presumably her partner) launched into a long and passionate ramble about the band currently playing. She disappeared and returned about ten minutes later with some herbal tea - just as Jordan had finished their own rant about guitar brands and the benefits of vintage instruments. 

Jordan visited 104 Records often after that day, especially when a run or a shot couldn’t fix whatever problem they were having. Frenchie gives great advice - and Kimiko is a riot, even through the somewhat erratic translations of Frenchie.

As with most things, Jordan was disciplined with their budget - mainly to keep their parents from interrogating her on every single line of their credit statement. But that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy herself from time to time. And honestly, window shopping was one of their favorite pastimes - she and Cate enjoy wandering through the shops in the area (and Jordan pretends they don’t notice when she shoplifts). They were alone this afternoon, just trying to occupy themself until they had to go be friendly with the girl Sam was crushing on, and the friend that Andre was trying to bang. Andre often utilized the group of them as a buffer when he’s interested in someone. If Jordan didn’t know him, she’d say it was creepy. But they’d seen him take no quite easily, and he did have good enough taste in people that they were usually enjoyable events. But fuck, man, she’s seen him seduce (and then, sloppily make out with) way too many people for their own comfort. Hopefully, tonight he’ll have the courtesy to take this friend to his room before their tongues are down each other’s throats.

Just as she was rounding the corner from 104 Records, none other than the opera girl from the music building yesterday came striding out, walking purposefully back towards campus (and it takes them way too long to tear their eyes from her). She tried not to overthink it - she’s just a girl. It’s just a store. But it just brings them back to the practice room yesterday and the way she had  no qualms about not just singing an operatic aria in front of her, but she also stood up to them. Pushed back. And not in the gratingly contrarian way that Andre could be - Opera clearly had drive and intelligence. And she wasn’t scared of them. And now, she was just wandering into that shop? It’s all too weird. 

But they had to stop thinking about her before they allowed themself to get too distracted. As happy as they were when they were making music, most of their days felt like a circus act. Balancing school, work, and music, and making people believe that her priorities are aligned with whomever she may be speaking to at the time. Brink had to believe Jordan was an engineer first and foremost. James had to believe that Jordan was ready and able to put work above all else. And their parents had to believe that Jordan was willing to dilute herself and her desires to succeed in life. She had to convince them that they weren’t planning a drastically different life than the one they dreamed for her.

They shifted easily before making their way into the Frenchie’s place, determined to think about nothing but music for the next twenty to thirty minutes.

“Monsieur Jordan! It’s been too long.” Frenchie called from his usual spot in the back, recording inventory or messing around with his current hobby - music production. They’d given him more than a few lessons, and it’s always refreshing to talk shop with folks who get it. Even if most of the music Frenchie makes is in a language Jordan doesn’t speak. Frenchie presented Jordan with a clearly homemade CD with his usual flourish. “This is my new stuff. I need your ears!”

“C’mon, French, you know I like everything you make.” He said easily, thumbing through the scattered boxes they knew would have something interesting. But he took the CD nonetheless, and went back to browsing. It was easy now, to get lost in the French and UK rock music that Frenchie always had playing, and it felt like no time had passed when they got the ‘u comin’ text from Andre. They bought a Flaming Lips record that they’d been eyeing for awhile, and bid Frenchie and Kimiko goodbye before making his way back to campus.

If Sam wasn’t standing there, staring at the cuffs of his sweatshirt like they contained the secrets of the universe, Jordan would’ve already been razzing Andre about the girls not coming. They’re not cruel - and they don’t need Blond and Blonder lecturing him if they upset Sam. So instead they found themself leaning against Luke’s SUV and glaring into the distance. 

Thankfully (for Sam, not Jordan, as he’d soon discover), the two girls came around the corner - the blonde chattering excitedly to ... Opera. Andre was trying to get in Opera’s pants? It felt like she fell from the sky, hellbent on invading every part of their life. First the rehearsal room, then the record shop, now this?

She looked... out of her depth, if they were honest. Same trench coat, same locs, but the intensity from yesterday seemed dimmed in the glow of the street light. Who would’ve thought the girl who fearlessly told them off over seven minutes of rehearsal time was nervous about a little hang out with upperclassmen?

They took a hit from Andre’s joint, not paying much attention to the blonde girl’s rambling, but he did catch Opera’s name - Marie. Marie.

“I’m Sam’s brother, Luke, and this is my girlfriend Cate, my roommate Andre, and our friend Jordan.” Andre immediately scoffed, and gave his usual speech.

“Don’t be humble, dude - we’re the reigning champions of the local battle of the bands, and the first all supe punk band actually worth talking about.”  But underneath it all, Jordan knew Andre was more pissed about being introduced as Luke’s roommate. Andre and Luke’s friendship had always seemed to go deeper than most would expect looking at them. 

Well, they don’t like to speculate on their friends' secrets. And Marie was looking at them, sizing him up. She was clearly unimpressed with Andre - and Jordan’s left wondering what planet Andre was on when he thought he had a chance with her. He’s smooth, but not that smooth. Or maybe they’re giving her too much credit. She is still a freshman, bold or otherwise. But they could feel her eyes on him, piercing and all-seeing. They tried to play it cool, like she hadn’t been occupying their every other thought for the past 30 hours. And as they climbed into the car with Andre and Cate - the former of which was greatly disappointed that Marie stuck with the tiny blonde instead of riding with him - they’re left wondering what kind of night they’ve gotten himself into.

Andre is the kind of driver you want to be in the car with and not on the road with. Jordan still can’t help but grip the door handle tightly and stare out the window, tuning out Andre and Cate’s chatter. And so even though they stopped to meet Andre’s plug, they were still pulling in only moments after the others, and he walked in just as Marie and her friend were hanging up their coats and taking in the space.

Sam was explaining what Jackbox was to Luke for the third time since they’d all played over the summer - I know we played Quiplash, but there’s more than just Quiplash, and with this group, it’d be better to- And that’s when they stopped paying attention and grabbed a beer from the fridge, mainly to give himself something to do other than stare at Marie. But then they’re left with the same anxious thoughts that had been running in circles in their mind since Marie walked up with Emma. What was her relationship with Andre? What did she think of them? And why couldn’t they stop thinking about her?

They sat back in their usual reclining chair, sipping the beer, and watching the eclectic group of students settle in. Andre still defaulted to the couch with Luke and Cate, the picture of casual ease as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. Marie perched on the dining chair next to the couch, taking in the scene similarly to the way Jordan was (and if it looked like she was trying not to stare at them, well, that was just... casual curiosity, right?).

Not that they were having a problem keeping their eyes off her. Well, not at first. Marie’s blonde friend was... rambunctious, forcing their eyes away from the quieter girl with her stories. They ended up somewhat close to each other as the group crowded around the secondhand flat screen TV in the living room. Sam nearly knocked over Emma’s drink dodging one of her more aggressive hand movements, and Marie jumped back before deftly moving away from the chaos corner. Of course, she settled in next to them, holding a drink that looked like an eighteen year old mixed it - some kind of punch that’s definitely 0% real juice and vodka in a plastic cup. Fucking freshmen.

She was still nervous - they could practically feel it oozing from her pores, with the way her shoulders were hunched inwards and she kept fiddling with her cup. There were a few moments where they thought she was about to ask them something, her lips parting slightly before she pressed them together again, or sipped from her drink. 

Then the game actually started - and it was like a switch flipped in the younger girl’s eyes. Whatever nerves she’d been dealing with dissolved in the face of friendly competition and he felt a strange rush rocket through their system.

“You ready to go down, Opera?” He smirked, unable to help himself, leaning over to bump her shoulder playfully. 

“You wish, Yamaha.” She retorted, smiling back wryly, and he swore his heart stuttered in their chest. She remembered my guitar. It took them a moment to smooth their face into something resembling unaffected when he wasn’t sure if they’d ever feel unaffected by this fucking freshman.

< prev | next >

thanks again to @perpetualproductions for the edits and encouragements!

[chongmiz]

I heard I can fo it with a broken heart on the radio

And aside from the chorus being kinda awkward (I'm so depressed I act like it my birTHHHdaayyyyyYY)

I think this whole 'i sold you a lie you think I'm doing well but I'm not but I'm killing it so I'm a #girlboss try come for my job' is so embarassing

Because everything shes done over this last year I've thought 'theres a woman doing real bad'

Like I'm not trying to dispute the effort and energy that goes into touring like she does, but a lot of her decisions both professional and personally have made me think uh oh

Its giving 'could a depressed person do this?' But it's about dating the worst men on the planet and looking like shes going to cry on stage half the time

💌 come talk to me, a veteran swiftie in the anti- tag in the same way that martin luther still thought himself catholic

where i land with it lyrically is in conversation with four songs: "mirrorball" from folklore, "nothing new" from red TV, and two other ttpd tracks, "who's afraid of little old me" and "clara bow"

per the long pond sessions, she wrote "mirrorball" partially about COVID's effect on touring ("and they called off the circus, burned the disco down / when they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns"). pair that with the much discussed WAOLOM asylum line and... it might be because she says "circus," it might be that while i have no personal experience of involuntary hospitalization i Do have basic empathy, but i think of the two great blond celebrity memoirs of the last few years: britney spears' the woman in me and jeannette mccurdy's i'm glad my mom died. which is all to say, she doesn't Have to do it with a broken heart! actually! "the asylum where they raised me" sounds like her pursuit of fame was coerced by say, a stage mom or an abusive contract or monetary need (it wasn't), if she was in an urgent health crisis like ICDIWABH suggests ("even when you wanna die"), she has all the power to postpone or cancel dates. she's not in a conservatorship, she's not being Made to tour; i can imagine feeling obligated to pay the hundreds of people it employs, but she is an actual billionaire, i think she can afford blue cross blue shield PPO plans for a militia. you can interpret "all the pieces of me shattered while the crowd was chanting 'more!'" as resenting the audience, but there's other performers in smaller venues with less freedom and power who need to be onstage to afford food. idk.

then there's the "try and come for my job:" extremely vague as to who is coming for it, and the popular reading is of other pop stars on tour. "clara bow" is my favorite track on ttpd by a long shot in part because it feels like a more mature version of "nothing new;" it's a little kinder to the ingenue and seems to respect her predecessors, recognize that She was the ingenue once, but it does not match up to her actual conduct in public. this is where i become very asian, but besides her being uhhh... pretty drunk at the grammys this year, i think her behavior is more a symptom of white american culture as egoistic and ahistorical—this is the kamala harris "you think you fell out of a coconut tree" meme, yes, but more broadly my complaint is filial piety. acting up in front of the likes of celine dion and tracy chapman and joni mitchell, especially on a night that celebrates all three of them, is absolutely unacceptable to me. they're your elders, they paved the path you're on (nothing new: "she'll know the way, and then she'll say she got the map from me"), but her teenage fans who've never heard any other music don't know or accept that she Isn't actually the progenitor of acclaimed women singer-songwriters

she wants to be seen as a "cool big sister" mentor to younger pop girls or boosting indie acts like boygenius, but afaik she herself hasn't shared the stage with an older female musician since alanis morrissette as a surprise guest on the 1989 tour. sure, she showed up to induct carole king to the rock 'n roll hall of fame, with a solo stage. but as much as people first cringed at luke combs' "fast car" cover, he acquitted himself with his grammy performance. there is true reverence there. if taylor brings stevie nicks (who wrote a poem?? for the ttpd physical editions) onstage at some point soon, i'll Maybe start to believe she doesn't see women over 40 as piles of dust she's either embarrassed to stand near Or, you know, who expose that she did not in fact fall out of a coconut tree, and have more stage presence sitting down than she does in sequins

[raeii-of-sunshine]

Infodump about Will, please?

OMG ANON U HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY U JUST MADE ME. I PROMISE U MY FIRSTBORN FOR THIS GREAT OPPORTUNITY

okok so first of all he’s a gemini (05/31/1994) which is crazy cuz i don’t think this man is capable of wearing a mask. he wears everything right on his face even if he’s not yapping about it. not very gemini of him tbh

SECOND also getting basic info out of the way he’s puerto rican and he has a lot of tattoos to pay homage to his heritage!! including the frog (a coqui) and hibiscus (amapola) tattoo on his neck, as well as i BELIEVE the aztec-style mural on his back!!!!

before he got into harder music like lamb of god, white chapel, etc, he listened to pretty tame rock like AC/DC. he actually played the guitar and the saxophone! he was in band in hs!! fun fact, his parents were NOT excited about him going from his “normal person music” to deathcore and other metal genres. one time when he was first learning how to scream (in the shower), his mom knocked on the door to ask if he was okay lmaooo. nowadays they’re all very proud of him tho!!

he has a tattoo of a goblin with his curly pink hair and gauges on one of his legs, eating ramen out of a skull bc he fuckin LOVES ramen. he’s also really big into anime and manga

he appeared several times on the youtube channel “the charismatic voice” to discuss his and other people’s vocal techniques, AS WELL AS letting them put a camera up his nose and down his throat to record him while he did all of his insane vocal techniques!! ANDDDD also did another video with them where they put needles in his neck to get an even more accurate recording of everything!! i couldn’t watch that one bc i can’t do needles ‘:D but it was probably pretty fuckin cool.

he is a really big fan of opera and is friends with one of the people from the charismatic voice named elizabeth, who is a vocal specialist and (used to be(?)) an opera singer. he made a whole video reacting to one of her very old opera performances and said that he really likes opera bc it’s like deathcore in the sense that there are SOOOO many vocal techniques used in every performance, much like the best deathcore vocalists out there !

elizabeth said in the putting-a-camera-down-his-throat video that one of the first things that she noticed about him when they met in the airport was that his hair was super animated and kinda flips around on his head like it’s got a personality of its own!!

example:: (him playing ping pong with elizabeth)

getting back into music, he’s said that he actually doesn’t listen to a ton of deathcore or metal music anymore, he’s more of an indie guy!! if he wasn’t in a deathcore band, he’d apparently be making indie music. and one of the main reasons he doesn’t listen to a lot of metal is so that any ideas for songs that he comes up with won’t be accidentally pulling from other songs so they’re more original. he also doesn’t usually try to force lyrics out of himself, he just kind of writes down things whenever he thinks of them (and it works quite well!!)

his first gig was in an old vaulted church building in new jersey (BECAUSE OF COURSE THIS MAN IF FROM NEW JERSEY) that no longer hosts gigs, and the acoustics were TERRIBLE bc of all the reverb from the vaulted ceilings. his first gig was fucking NERVE WRECKING but nowadays after the first couple of days of tour the pre-show jitters just go away??

ALSO he brings tea and an entire tea set to every venue!! and says shit like and i quote, “where am i gonna set up my tea party today?” he’s VERY serious about his vocal care! he drinks his tea, he has a bunch of fancy serums and other vocal products, and has a handheld nebulizer that he swears up and down by. <333 better self care routine than any of us out here tbh

he’s apparently always late to rehearsal lol. and he’s a cat person!! he’s literally so perfect <3

that is all that i have rn!! thank you so much anon you seriously made my fuckin day!!!!

[venusdian]

The Black Aesthetic - 006.

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

"Being Black isn't an Aesthetic, It's culture."

(This is a mixture of 1st & 3rd POV) - 4.1K Words

Tailah

────

Friday Afternoon

I sat on the porch, watching the kids play with the science kit as Devin and his brothers privately discussed the funeral arrangements. Devin was taking this passing pretty hard, and it’s hard to console him when he won’t let me. He’s been sleeping in the guest room at his parent’s house. I can hear him cry himself to sleep, and when I try to hold him, he just pushes me away.

Genesis tries to cheer her dad up, but Devin struggles not to cry when she looks up at him with those big brown eyes.

I hear Ashanti’s Rain on Me coming down the block. It was Marí pulling up. I’m surprised she’s not blasting explicit rap music, but I can’t complain. I get up from the rocking chair and walk down the stairs. Marí comes out of the car. Genesis looks up and sees that her Aunt is entering the gate. She got up and ran, hugging her waist. Marí hugs her back and then comes up the stairs.

We hug, and then we go back to sitting on the rocking chairs. She hands me the packet.

“How they holding up?” I sighed, and she knew that sound all too well. The front door opened, and it was Dexter coming outside.

“Oh, wassup, Marí?” Marí looks back at Dexter and daps him up.

“Wassup, Dex. Aye, I’m sorry for your loss.” Marí sincerely expresses. Dexter nods.

“It’s fine. She always said she was going to die happily with her vices.”

“Well, if you need help with anything, just hit me up, and I can make something shake.” Dexter nods, folding his arms and looking out at the kids.

“Devin is really taking this hard.” Dexter worriedly states. I sigh.

“I know, Dex. We’re trying.” Dexter shakes his head and looks at us.

“I ain’t seen Devin this broken. I’m worried about him, Tee. He couldn’t finish the planning with us because he’s so—broken.” My heart broke hearing those words. I looked at Dex, who seemed worried.

“Well, Devin gunna shake this. We just gotta let this ride out.” Marí suggested trying to ease our nerves, but Dex wasn’t budging. He shakes his head.

“Nah, Marí—This is different. When Dad died, he was heartbroken but was ok because Mom was right there with the words of encouragement. But now that she’s gone? I don’t think he’ll ever be the same.” Dexter confesses as he sits on the porch floor. I softly sighed. I knew why he was taking this harder than all his siblings.

Well, his siblings aren’t biologically his siblings. He witnessed his mother being brutally stabbed at the age of five. He’s moved in with Ms. Doris and her family since his mother’s family didn’t want to take him since he carried his father’s name and thought it would be traumatic for them to take him.

Ms. Doris welcomed him with open arms, especially since he had lost everyone else in his life. He had been left without any parental figures—his mother was murdered, his father was in prison, and both of his adoptive parents had passed away. I believe all of this is incredibly overwhelming for him, and I can understand why.

But Dex saying that Devin is completely broken really puts into perspective how dire the situation is. Dex is the closest to Devin. I mean, they’re so close. He’s the godfather of Genesis. He knows him better than I know him at times. So his word held power. I softly sighed, looking over at Dex.

“Well, how are you holding up Dex?” Marí asks, trying to change the subject. Dex looked up at Marí and sighed.

“It hurts, but it’s expected, ya know? She was a stubborn old lady til the very end.” Dex states with a light-hearted chuckle. Marí sighs.

“Well, focus on your grieving, please. You don’t have to be strong for Devin. That’s what Tailah is here for.” Marí assures him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Although, I nodded, agreeing with Marí. Deep down, I didn’t feel confident, I could get him out of this slump. When his dad died, I had help to heal him. I didn’t do this alone. This time, I was alone, and I was scared.

I want to be able to be there and console him, but he just won’t let me in, and I can’t fight him to do so, either. But I will try. Not just for him but for Genesis. Genesis needs her dad, and Although I need my man. Genesis’ mental health overrides anything.

omniscient

────

Friday Evening.

Janine enters Mrs. Kendricks’ classroom. She’s always had a close bond with her as she looked up to her growing up. Although she never had her for a teacher when she went to E.W., Mrs. Kendricks has always been a huge support system for Janine, and right now, Janine needs support. Gregory left promptly after school ended, taking his work, which was unusual for him. He just seemed off, which worried her.

She tried to text him. His phone was on Do Not Disturb. She hoped it had nothing to do with Marí stopping by earlier. But she feared it was, and she just needed someone to vent her frustrations to.

Amelia Kendricks looks up from her desk and smiles.

“Oh, hey, Janine! I’m shocked that you’re here. Usually, I see you out my window with Greg, walking you to your car. Is everything alright.” She sighs and takes a seat at the empty desk. Amelia could see the worry on Janine’s face. She got up and walked over to Janine.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Janine looks up at Amelia.

“Can I ask you something?” Amelia sits on the empty desk beside her.

“Of course.”

“I know, it’s so long ago… But, what do you remember about Greg and Marí? I know they were both in your class.” Amelia uncomfortably clears her throat, stunned by the question. She hums to herself as she tries to remember the events that unfolded over twenty years ago. She looks at Janine.

“Well, it was my first year teaching, and Marí definitely kept me on my toes. Especially on the days, when Greg wasn’t there. They were inseparable—” She pauses then chuckles.

“I remember the whole school was rooting for them to be together. They kept my first two years interesting. But that was over twenty years ago. Why are you worried about that? Is the Genesis’ situation bothering you more than you’re letting on?” Janine shakes her head.

“No. She’s a kid. Her intentions are pure, and she’s completely innocent in this. I just think Greg still loves Marí, and Marí feels the same way.” Mrs. Kendrick immediately shakes her head, disagreeing with her.

“NO! Janine, that boy has had a crush on you since his first day working here. Marí is not going to come up here and distract that man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and his actions always show that he loves you. I think you’re letting the past worry you about the now.” Janine sighs.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at her…” Janine trails off as flashbacks of the other day replayed in her mind. He seemed so distracted by Marí and enamored by her beauty, and she looked out the window. She could see Marí blushing and looking away. Amelia softly sighs, placing a hand on her thigh.

“Look, Janine. I don’t think the romance is there. Maybe they miss each other but love each other? I highly doubt it. Gregory is not going to leave you for Marí. I assure you of that. Look, We’re hanging out tomorrow at Club Blu. You can shake off some of the nerves. You’ll see Gregory still loves you.” Janine looks up and smiles.

“You’re right.” Amelia chuckles and pulls Janine in a hug.

“I know, I am.” They pull away.

“I should get going,” Janine says, getting up. Amelia nods.

“We’re carpooling with Barbara, so keep a lookout in the group chat ‘cause you know how she gets.” Janine nods, chuckling.

“You’re right.” Janine leaves the classroom, leaving Amelia by herself. She sighed to herself. She hoped her advice was right. The last thing she wanted to see was Janine hurt. Maybe, if she talks to Gregory before they meet at the club will fix the issue. She doesn’t like to pry into her co-workers’ business, but she remembers more than she lets on.

She remembers when they would sit at lunch and the way Greg would just look at Marí while she ate lunch and how much she blushed because of how much he would admire her or any assignment that involved a group or partners, they always chose each other. They were inseparable.

Even up to high school, He walked her to the bus, and when he got his car? He always picked her up. She remembers a time one of her friends who was a teacher at Anslem High was telling her about the time Greg came while he had the flu and running a fever just to keep up with their routine.

Gregory and Marí were in love. A type of love that even Adults were envious of. She knew it was wrong to lie to Janine about how intense their love was for each other, but she knew Janine did not need to hear that. So, it was final. She was going to talk to Gregory.

Courtney

────

Friday Night.

The Uber Black pulled up to the studio where my life was going to change at, Black Stone Studios in Memphis. This was feeling surreal, and it was making my nerves very Jittery. I entered the beautiful building and walked to the front desk. A white woman was typing away at her desk. I cleared my throat and she looked up at me.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

“I’m here for a studio session with Max is On Fire!” She nods and picks up the office phone, pressing some buttons. I could hear the phone loudly ring. Each ring made me more anxious than the last. Finally, somebody picks up. It was a male voice, but I couldn’t make out what he said.

“Alright, I’ll send her there.” She hangs up the call and looks up at me.

“It’s on the second floor. And when you go down the hall, it’s 2F. They’re waiting for you. Good luck!” I anxiously nodded and hurriedly went to the elevator. I pressed the up button, my body shaking.

The elevator door opened, and I got in. I pressed the number two button. The elevator doors closed. I wanted to pinch myself because this can not be happening. I pinched myself, and ouch! That hurts.

Working with Max is on Fire! Is a huge deal. He’s worked with Drake, Noah Brooks, GloRilla, Usher—- I mean, the list can go on. He’s also a four-time Grammy-winning producer. His studio rate goes for 500K an hour, well at least that’s what I heard. I don’t know, though. But I know, Marí spent a pretty penny to get me a session with him. I owe her.

The elevator doors opened, and I walked out to see the long hallway. The hallway was filled with plaques on the wall. As I walked down the hall, I admired all the beautiful plaques. Some were gold, some were Platinum, but there weren’t any diamond plaques. Well, that’s going to change. I’m going to go diamond once my music picks up.

I know it sounds crazy as it’s rare to reach Diamond status, but I believe in Me and Me? We going to rise to the top. I finally looked at the door number and realized I walked past my studio door. I walked a couple of doors back and there it was 2F. I take a deep breath and wrapped my hand around the door knob. But before I could open it, it opened for me.

There stood a teenage girl, who looked pretty excited to see me. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Who are you?” The teen smiled.

“Oh! Max didn’t tell you? I will be producing your record today.” She happily explained. I shook my head.

“That���s not what I was—” Before I could finish, Max came down the hall.

“Hey! Look, I know you’re supposed to work with me, but this is my protégé and my little sister, Summer.” He says, introducing me to this kid. I looked over at him, confused.

“Is this a joke?” Was all I could ask because of the anger I felt. The embarrassment I felt. So, I’m not good enough for you, but I’m good enough for your sister?! Max shakes his head. He looks at me sympathetically.

“Look, My hands are tied with Alex, and she was not budging. So, I thought since it’s both of you guys’ first time—”

“THIS IS HER FIRST TIME?!” I exclaimed. We earned some stares from people in the hallway. He pushed me into the studio with his sister and then closed the door behind us. I jerked away and glared at him.

“I didn’t word that right. But, you’re her first client, and she has an ear for music like me—” I huffed.

“Marí is going to be pissed when she finds out.” Max nods.

“I know, but I gotta work with Alex. Look, please just give Summer a chance. I promise you, you won’t regret it.” Max pauses, looking at his watch then looks up.

“I have to head out. But, good luck to you both!” Before I could say anything else, he rushed out of the studio, leaving me and Summer alone. I looked at her.

“Ain’t it past your bedtime?” I asked. Summer chuckles.

“I’m Twenty—”

“Twenty minutes past your bedtime?” I joke. She glared at me and I just sighed. It wasn’t her fault that she was in this situation.

“Sorry, Summer. I just—” Summer shakes her head.

“It’s cool. I got to prove myself, and I’m willing to if you let me.” Summer sincerely says. I sigh, she has a cute smile. I guess I can give her a chance.

“Fine.” Summer looks at me happily and pulls out my chair.

“Have a seat, I have so many beats I want to show you that I think you’ll like, and if you don’t write—”

“I write my own music.” Summer’s eyes widen.

“Even better!” I take a seat, sighing. At least one of us is excited.

Marí

────

“You sure, you wanna head out? It’s pretty late.” Tailah asks me. I nodded. That house was packed with people, and I was not sleeping on the damn floor when there was a queen-sized bed waiting for me at home.

“It’s fine.” Tailah sighs.

“Ok, call me as soon as you get home.” I nodded.

“Of course.” Tailah and I hugged then I walked off the porch, going back to my baby. I stayed longer than I anticipated. Genesis wanted to show me the science kit her cousin got, and then I ended up somehow playing dolls with Genesis and her other cousin. Then I stayed and ate dinner. We chilled in the living room and reminisced about back in the day, and before I knew it, It was almost 10:30 PM.

I got in the car and grabbed my phone charger. I plugged my phone in and turned on the car. I went to my music app and began to scroll to see what I wanted to listen to on this ride home. I couldn’t find a particular artist I wanted to listen to, so I placed it on Shuffle.

Carless Whispers by George Michaels played, nice start. I reversed out of my parking spot and joined the main road to head home. I sighed as I couldn’t get Devin out of my head. He just seemed so out of it. Even with his dad’s passing, he wasn’t that bad.

He was so quiet when everyone laughed. He struggled to form a smile. Tailah had her work cut out for her, but I’m just worried about Gigi because, Gigi although she can read the room, some things I don’t think she can fully comprehend how Devin is just a shell of himself right now.

I leave the neighborhood, stopping at the red light. That’s the one thing I hate about Knoxville! There’s always a gotdamn traffic light. Why in the hell is there a traffic light at the end of a neighborhood? Was a stop sign out of the question? I shake my head while I wait for the light to turn green.

I hummed along to the song until my phone started to ring. I was getting a video call through Instagram. I looked over and saw it was Greg calling. I pressed the x button, and the light turned green. I drive downtown to get on the highway. I tapped my steering wheel as George Michaels’ gay ass was singing his heart out.

Then it rang again. I quickly glanced at my phone, and it was Greg calling me. I sighed and pressed the check button.

“Why is it so dark?”

“I’m driving, Greg. What do you want?”

“I couldn’t get you off my mind, Marí.” I sighed.

“Well, learn to get me off your mind.”

“I did, but you came back.” I sighed. I quickly glanced over to see Greg was laying down with his black durag on, making my pussy tingle. I quickly look back at the road. He shouldn’t be on here looking so damn fine.

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

“Where you at?”

“I’m driving back to Anslem. I was in Knoxville.” He hums.

“How is Genesis holding up?”

“She’s ok. I don’t think she really understands the gravity of the situation, and I would like to keep it at that.”

“Yeah, I agree. So, you still love me?” I sighed. Here he goes wanting to talk about feelings and shit.

“You’re dating Janine.” I argued, trying to change the subject.

“So a nigga can’t have confirmation?” I shook my head.

“Why would confirmation matter? Nothing is going to change. You moved on, and I respect that.”

“Ok, you respect that, but are you happy with it?” I got to a red light. I leaned back as I waited for the light to change.

“Greg, this isn’t like you,” I argued.

“You’re right. But I don’t know how you expect me to act. I loved you for almost 75% of my life. You had my heart for fifteen years.” I looked over and sighed.

“I know, but time shouldn’t factor over a healthy relationship.” Greg sighed.

“I know, but you got me playing Bow Wow while grading papers.” He joked. I chuckled.

“Aye, Get in the camera. I wanna see your face.” I sighed and grabbed the phone. I put my phone in the holder that Gigi bought me a while ago but never used it because that’s what a passenger seat is for. He looks at me smiling.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Marí.” I look down, hiding my smile and blush.

“Greg, we can’t do this.” I finally say, shaking my head. He sighs.

“I know. But how can I hate somebody I love so much?” The light turned green, and I got past the traffic light, silence between us as I was lost for words. How can you? He had a point, but I don’t feel right doing this. Janine doesn’t deserve this.

“I’ma let you go—” I stopped him and looked at the camera.

“No, you’re fine. I have a three-hour drive to kill, and I don’t want to do it alone.” A huge smile was plastered on his face, making me smile as well. I know this was wrong, and neither one of us should be entertaining this behavior, but I couldn’t help it. This feeling that I am feeling right now is something hard to bury, but hopefully, that will change because this just isn’t right.

Courtney

────

We were an hour in, and I was feeling hopeless. The beats she showcased were not ass, but they weren’t me. I sighed as Summer looked over at me. I could tell she was nervous. She did not want this to go bad, and it’s not her fault. We’re just on two separate pages when it comes to music.

“how about this? Let me see what you’ve written.” I skeptically looked at her.

“Why?”

“Well, in order for this to work, I need to see your lyrics and get a feel for what type of genre you want to do.” I sighed, pulling out my phone and unlocked it. I went to my notes, pulled up my songwriting folder, and handed it to her. She takes it and scrolls through the song titles when something catches her eye. She furrows her eyebrows and begins silently reading it to herself. She looked up at me, stunned.

“This you?” I nod.

“Yes.” She looks at me, still shocked.

“What? What’s wrong with it.” She shakes her head.

“This is very deep. I actually think I might have something for this.” She handed me my phone, and “Just my luck” was on the screen. She rushes over to the piano. Her phone was resting on it, and she opened the record app. She looks over at me, gesturing me to come over there. I cautiously walk over to the piano.

She begins to play the piano and looks over to me.

“Just sing what you feel, Courtney.” She says as she begins to play something a bit dark. Something I was not expecting. She looks over at me. I sigh.

“I don’t want this to be a Debut single.” She nods.

“That’s fine, but I need to get a feel for you, trust me. This is between us.” She stops the recording. Then starts a new recording. She starts playing the piano again. I take a deep breath as she gives me a reassuring smile. I start to harmonize, trying to find my footing, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps going.

“Look at me, look at me, strugglin’” I start, she looks over at me, stopping her playing.

“Go slower. Make people look at you, Court. You want people to understand that this isn’t some random complaint. This is your pain. Your struggle.” She encourages. I take another deep breath. She starts playing again. I harmonize again, this time with more emotions to it. I close my eyes.

“Look at me. Look at me, Strugglin’.”

“Bring me down. I want more of it”

“Is that what you hear? Is it written on my face?

Or is it in my eyes ‘cause I’m stuck up in this place?”

She fastens the pace.

“And I just I don’t know where you’re leadin’ me to go

Pullin’ me here, pullin’ me there

Can’t take no more”

Then she slowed the pace, and I started to pick up what she was doing. I closed my eyes and continued to sing. Holding myself as I let the emotions rush over me.

“What happened to bein’ happy? That’s what I ask myself

Over here tryna mask me, who even is myself? Just my luck, just my luck

What you want? What you want?

Just my luck, just my—

What you want from me? What you need me to be? (Oh)”

She stopped playing, and I opened my eyes. My heart was racing as I was shocked that much emotion had come out of me. She looked over at me as if she was proud.

“Look, whenever you’re ready to record this beautiful song, please just let me know, ok?” I smiled and nodded.

“Ok.”

“But uhh, before I look at these other songs, tell me, why?” I sit on the piano bench beside her.

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want this as your debut single. It’s beautiful and relatable to black women, especially dark-skinned women. Wouldn’t you want to make a huge impact on your first single?” I sighed.

“Summer… I’m an influencer. The most impactful thing I’ve done as my time as an IG baddie is stop wearing Balenciaga. They don’t go to my page for inspiration. Bitches go there to copy my look, and niggas go there to see if they can fly me out. A song as heavy as that? It would seem inorganic.” Summer looked at me perplexed.

“Is inorganic even a word?” I shrugged.

“It sounds like it’s one.” Summer hummed, confused but nodded.

“Well, Ok. I think you might like an SWV sample I did a while back. It’s retro with a modern twist.” I nodded.

“Well, ok let me hear it. Maybe I can find a song that would go well with it.” She nods.

“OK, bet. But Courtney?” I got up and turned around.

“Yes?”

“Don’t think you’re less than just because that’s how the media perceives you. You’re more than a double tap. You’re human, too.” I didn’t expect getting life advice from a twenty-year-old would be the highlight of my night, but I guess crazier things have happened.

[inwintersolitude]

- April 1st 2025 -

Is your computer in the bedroom? Nope, I mainly use my laptop in the bird room (downstairs bedroom/office but we call it the bird room because the whole room is for our bird lmao) because I spend a lot of time in there with her. I also sometimes use it in the kitchen or dining room, sometimes in the sitting room too. And my gaming laptop and my husband's gaming desktop are upstairs in the media/game room.

Do you have a TV in your room? Nope.

What's piled up under your bed? There's nothing under there.

How is the weather? It's 40F and sunny.

What are you listening to? I'm listening to my bird quietly chirping to herself as she takes a nap.

What makes you madder than anything? Misogyny.

Are you a really emotional person? Not usually, but some specific things can get me quite emotional.

Do you hang out a lot in malls? Nope. I occasionally go to them if there's something particular that I'm shopping for there, but I don't "hang out" in them.

Do you cuss a lot? Kind of.

Do you spend a lot of time on your appearance? Nah not really. I put in enough effort to look like a civilized human being, but I don't go much beyond that (unless I'm dressing up for a special occasion).

What are some of your pet peeves: Gross table manners, like chewing with your mouth open or clanking your silverware on your teeth. Also, loud cars/trucks.

Do you have a "type" of person you always go after: No.

Are there songs your parents played or sang to you as a child? Which songs remind you of being a child? My mom's a professional pianist and there are a ton of classical pieces she played (and still plays) that remind me of my childhood. Arabesque No. 1 by Debussy, tons of Mozart piano sonatas, pieces by Chopin, etc.

What type (genres) of music did you listen to when you were young? Classical, and a little bit of classic rock and jazz.

Any religious songs you are particularly fond of? I'm an atheist but I still like some of the old English hymns they'd play at my grandparent's Episcopal church when I was a kid. And a few Christmas carols but those aren't overly religious.

Do you have any favourite love songs? Not really.

Who were your favourite singers, performers, groups, bands, composers, and/or orchestras when you were young? Mozart and Beethoven (still my favorites). I actually didn't listen to that much music (outside of the music I played for piano lessons and playing in the school concert band) til I was around 11 or 12 and iTunes was a thing. Then I got more into rock/classic rock. I liked Coldplay, The Doors, AC/DC, and Queen.

Are there any songs you associate with a particular person, place, memory, event, or time in your life? Yes. Many.

Can you commit to one person? Yes, I already have.

If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? I cannot fathom him doing that. He adores me.

Do you care if people talk badly about you? It would bother me a little bit, especially if they were coming up with stuff that wasn't even true.

Are you going out of town soon? Probably not til June. I just got back from way too much traveling last week, I don't want to go out of town for a while.

Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? Yes. We'll be celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary in 5 years.

Do you have any pictures on your Facebook? Yes. I never use my account anymore, but I do have pictures on there from years and years ago.

Have you ever sleepwalked? No, I don't think I have.

Have you ever been on a laptop inside a vehicle? Yep.

While on the road, do you play any road games? No, my husband and I usually just talk, or whoever is not driving will find an interesting article to read and discuss.

Have you ever picked apples before? Yes, at the orchard that my Granny and Granddad used to live across the street from.

Are you scared of semi-trucks? Especially when you’re driving next to one? I was terrified of them when I was a young kid. Even to the point of freaking the fuck out if I saw one like a half mile behind us on the highway. But they don't bother me that much now. The only time I don't like driving near them is when driving through tunnels or construction zones where they have those concrete barriers that make the lanes feel more narrow.

Do you like eating shrimp? Kind of. It's one of those foods that I only occasionally have a taste for.

Who was the last person to comfort you? My husband.

Are you currently wearing any socks? No, I hate the feeling of wearing socks without shoes (and I don't wear shoes in the house).

Do you think that in the end, everything will fall into place? No, positive outcomes are not always a given. But I have learned how to make the best of things.

Who was the last person you disappointed? No idea.

What’s the capital of the state you reside in? Columbus.

Have you ever hazed someone or been hazed? No.

Have you ever skinny-dipped? No.

Have you ever tried weed? No. I'd normally be open to trying it, but I've read that THC can cause horrendous tinnitus flare-ups in people who already have tinnitus. And tinnitus flare-ups cause me extreme anxiety, so that's a no from me.

Would you ever get a significant other’s name tattooed on yourself? Nope. I've never wanted a tattoo.

Do you play video games? Yeah, I play Age of Empires II about once or twice a week. And sometimes Stardew Valley.

Thoughts on Pokemon Go? I played it once and wasn't that interested.

What podcasts do you listen to, if any? I haven't listened to any in like a year, maybe more. But I used to be subscribed to Psychology in Seattle, a few NPR podcasts, and some personal finance ones too.

Which period of history was your favorite to learn about in school? Feudal Japan, or Colonial America, or WWII (especially the European theatre).

What was your most recent binge-watch? Silo.

When was the last time you or someone else said/used your middle name for something? About a month ago when I filed our taxes, and renewed my driver's license. My middle name is my maiden surname and I don't use it for much outside of official things like that.

When was the last time you rolled your eyes? At what? I'm not sure.

Do you like mozzarella sticks? Eh, they can be really hit-or-miss. Some of them are okay.

Do you like caramel? A little bit.

According to your ex, are you a b-word? I don't have any exes.

When was the last time you cried? Two Saturdays ago in the middle of the night when I was having a panic attack about my tinnitus flaring up.

Are you currently frustrated with a girl? No.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? My husband.

Do you currently have a hickey? No.

What're the last three things you had to drink? Water, pineapple orange juice, and Irish breakfast tea.

Have you ever dated the same person twice? Nope.

Are you mutually best friends with anyone? Yes, my husband and I are each other's best friends.

How many people have you had sex with in the past week? One.

Would you rather spend a whole day with your mom or your dad? That's a tough decision. I enjoy spending time with them equally.

Is it easy for others to make you feel awkward? Not really? I feel like it's the other way around - I easily make other people feel awkward, because I'm not good at neurotypical socialization. XD

Are you shy? Not really. I'm quiet and introverted, but I wouldn't say I'm shy anymore. I definitely was when I was a kid/teen.

Did your ex hurt you emotionally when you broke up? No exes.

How many times did you go see the Twilight movie? I've never seen any of them.

What’s going on with you tomorrow night? I have nothing planned.

What is the last charity you donated to? I make a monthly donation to my state's abortion fund.

Do you have anything planned for the summer? The only big plan for the summer is the family reunion in June. We've rented out a huge farmhouse in the mountains via Airbnb, in central PA because that's kind of a mid-point for everyone attending. Other than that… just going to the town farmer's market, maybe going to some air shows, and my husband and I are going to do a sunset dinner cruise at some point.

Are there any mountains nearby where you live? No, the nearest mountains are about a 2-hour drive east of here.

Did you like to collect frogspawn as a kid? Nope, that would have grossed me out.

Do you walk fast or slow? I walk fast-ish normally, but much slower if I'm having a bad heart day and can't overexert myself.

Would you consider yourself an adrenaline junkie? Not anymore. But I definitely was when I was younger. I was into skiing, mountain biking, and - most of all - flying.

What moisturizer do you use? I was using Cetaphil cream for like 15+ years until they reformulated it to have niacinamide (which makes my skin red and irritated), so now I just use store-brand knockoffs because they didn't reformulate.

Would you rather be a kangaroo or a koala? Haha neither.

Would you consider yourself a leader or a follower? Neither. I just do my own thing. I'm very much NOT a follower, but I also don't want to lead people.

Do you keep your fingers on the home keys when you type? Yeah pretty much.

Can you juggle with more than two items? I can't juggle at all.

Do you like jalapenos? I LOVE jalapeños.

Have you ever been knocked out? Nope.

Ever seen the movie SLC Punk? Nope, never heard of it.

How about The Crow? Never heard of that one, either.

Any Tim Burton movies? I've seen clips of them, and I can tell I'd hate them all haha.

Have a favorite actor/actress? Nope.

Current favorite song? No favorite.

Ever used to have an imaginary friend? No.

Believe in heaven/hell? No.

Believe in God/Satan? No.

Sleep with just one pillow? I use a small foam throw pillow under my side as spine support, and I rest my head on a folded up quilt instead of a pillow because I need a lot of firm neck support to keep my jaw from dislocating or getting locked shut lmao. Regular pillows are way too squishy.

Ever woke up crying? Once or twice, due to nightmares.

Ever took ballet, jazz, or tap dancing classes? No.

What’s your opinion on Britney Spears? I only have a cursory knowledge of what happened to her, but I think it's horrible. And some of her music is okay.

What about Christina Aguilera? Eh no opinion. I couldn't tell you a single thing about her or name a single song of hers.

Avril Lavigne? Meh.

Are you going to graduate high school on time? I did.

Gonna move out when you’re 18? I did. I moved out when I started college.

Been to the zoo lately? My husband and I went to the zoo last September.

What was the last type of smoothie you drank? I can't remember, actually. I haven't been making them lately, because winters here are COLD and I never want smoothies when it's that cold. But I did have an acai smoothie bowl last Thursday, after we picked Luna up from boarding at the vet's office.

Do you think you have a wide vocabulary? Yes.

What’s your favourite type of cake? Coffee cake.

Do you have any life-changing plans within the next 6 months? Nope.

[lostboyfritz]

Hi, I'm Detransistioning

As a child, I always felt different. Like I didn’t fit into the mold of being a girl. I loved rough housing, I liked bugs, I was obsessed with dinosaurs, I hated dresses - so much so that in every childhood photo of me wearing one I’m frowning. I rejected anything traditionally feminine. To the great glee of my dad, who rewarded me with approval for being a tomboy, someone who scoffed at the very idea of makeup, all the while poking fun at my sister when she spoke on anything too ‘girly’. My mom had also grown up as a tomboy, though now most people would have described the way she talked and acted when I was younger as a ‘pick me’ girl. Even my aunt celebrated my more rough exterior, celebrating my taste in music when it leaned more towards heavy rock instead of pop girlies. But, all while my identity was being praised and rewarded, I watched my sister be put in a box labelled 'shallow'. She was ‘lovingly’ mocked for her interests. Looking back, this dynamic was formative in ways I didn’t fully understand then. 

I want to be clear: I don’t blame my family for the choices I’ve made. I carry so much love for myself and the journey I’ve been on when it comes to my identity. It’s all part of who I am today, how I’ve learned about the world, the different perspectives on life I’ve gained. So while the way they treated me and my siblings as kids absolutely affected me, I was the one who made the choices I did. 

Besides, it wasn’t just their relationships that shaped this journey, but one with an ex-girlfriend especially as well. For three years I dated someone who would talk about how she always seemed to turn the girls she dates more masculine, how she had one ex go as far as transitioning, how she only seems to attract trans men. What I didn’t see during that relationship was the way she pushed gender roles on basic things like holding doors open or paying for meals. In a lesbian relationship it’s usually outsiders asking ‘who the man’ is, but with her I found I was oftentimes described by her as the ‘guy’ despite very few of my actions being all that masculine. In reality I find I love the housewife life, cleaning and organizing, cooking, getting everyone ready for the day. That didn’t matter though, because she was a master manipulator, and while there is a lot that needs to be discussed on what abuse looks like in lesbian and sapphic relationships, this isn’t what this post is for. But to make this a little more concise; Due to the subtle ways she'd reward specific behavior, I’d find myself masculinizing myself to earn her approval, desperate to feel worthy of her love amid a lot of emotional and financial abuse. I didn’t realize how much internalized misogyny was at play - how deeply it was influencing me from childhood to my early twenties.

The first time I cut my hair short was a pivotal moment. I was still living in Miami Beach, I was still being scrutinized by my then girlfriend, still being made to ask permission to see and talk to family or old friends I hadn’t seen in years. I was in a bad place, enduring an overwhelming amount of abuse I kept gaslighting myself into believing was all in my head. But then, looking in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. Getting my hair cut into a bob cut felt like a fresh start, so I went even shorter, taking the scissors to my own hair now, cutting away little by little. I was misgendered in public for the first time, which ignited a mix of fear and strange relief. 

My relationship began falling apart soon after. The more I clung to this new identity, the more confident I was to be the type of person that stood up for themselves. That stopped gaslighting what they knew was happening. The identity that I adopted saved my life, because the person I was before was convinced the only way out of that relationship was if I killed myself. I also thought that presenting as male would shield me from further abuse. In hindsight, I see how flawed that belief was. Abuse doesn’t discriminate, and men often endure it without even realizing it. It’s normalized for girls to be ‘possessive’ of their man, or to not let them have other friends that are women, or to demand they stop their own hobbies like gaming rather than coming to compromises.  The same goes for power dynamics in sapphic relationships, a topic we truly don’t talk about enough. I’m hoping that this blog? Platform? Whatever this turns into gives space to hold those conversations, and while the internet is where nuance goes to die, I’m still hopeful a door will open. 

When I fled that relationship, and I do mean the term fled literally, I moved back in with my parents in San Diego, where access to gender therapy and HRT was straightforward. For some, that ease of access is a blessing. A lifeline that keeps them holding on just a little bit longer. For me, though, it was a lifeline I wasn’t fully prepared for. I was quietly unraveling mentally, and while gender-affirming care is vital and should be accessible, my journey highlighted the need for comprehensive support, including therapy with someone that better understood abuse in lgbt+ relationships. 

This post isn’t about criticizing access to care. I wholeheartedly believe trans people deserve access to gender-affirming treatment without unnecessary barriers. Therapy is valuable but it shouldn’t be a gatekeeping tool. Everyone deserves to explore their identity safely, even when their resources and finances are limited. This post is to highlight the opposite actually. It’s to say that if more resources had been available, if more conversations regarding internalized misogyny surrounding the lesbian community were being had, if therapists that specialized in domestic abuse also understood the complexities behind lgbt+ relationships and the desire to give all the love you were rejected due to being gay away to someone who shows you the slightest amount of love in return, and if conversations surrounding the transgender experience were welcome in ALL lgbtq+ spaces, then maybe my path would have looked a little bit different. 

Eventually, I found a relationship that let me grieve my past while learning what healthy communication actually looks like. Communication without accusations, without yelling, without name calling. For the first time, I had a space to mourn the loss of my feminine self without judgment. I spent years trying to make sense and convince myself it was normal to miss who I was before transitioning as deeply as I did. I asked other trans men if they felt the same, and they’d always explain it as holding love for who they were before they found themselves, and that it was an adjustment, but never quite the way that I felt. My wife taught me that everyone, including and especially me, deserves love. She saw the parts of me that I’d tried to bury and gave me the space to heal. 

I will never be able to explain the grace that she has given me to explore my identity, my self-worth, and self-love, and I certainly will never be able to thank her enough for it. 

Growing up as a tomboy, I absorbed a lot of misogyny. My sister Brandy’s interests - makeup, shopping, beaches and bright color pastels - were dismissed as shallow, while my more “masculine” hobbies were praised. I even started to mock her love of makeup to keep my dad’s approval. Now, I see makeup as an underrated art form. Rejecting romance books for fantasy because romance books were all poorly written erotica? Silly, because I’ve learned that I adore lighthearted love stories and actually they can be written so well with some of the most dynamic characters I’ve ever read. 

Exploring femininity has been a healing process. Playing a hyper-femme D&D character helped me safely reconnect with that side of myself. Her name is Nora, she loves dresses, nature, and animals. She also struggles deeply with feminine rage, and has been exploring the idea that feminism isn’t just about powerful women, but the choice of being whatever kind of woman you want to be - even a cutesy little housewife. Watching films like Captain Marvel, Barbie, Wandavision, and most recently, Agatha All Along gave me new perspectives on what being a woman can look like. How, no matter what you do, how hard you try, whether you grieve inward or outward, women will always be criticized. There is no safe space for women outside of the arms of other women.

I’m documenting this journey not to sensationalize destransitioning but to share my experience. I want to highlight how the lack of resources and safe spaces can lead to identity struggles. I’ll also share my love for sapphic media, which has challenged my preconceptions about lesbian identity. Channels like Rose and Rosie challenged my learned toxic need to peg someone in a lesbian/sapphic relationship as the ‘guy’. Neither one of them takes on a ‘man’s’ role in the relationship because, shocker, the very idea that there is a ‘mans’ role is misogynistic! Cammden Scott’s video from years ago discussing her struggles of coming out and being a gay femme helped to challenge this perspective that I had where there were only two options of lesbians: Hyper-Butch or Hyper-Femme sex symbol. There wasn't any in between because growing up that’s all that was available to me and neither one sat well with me. I didn’t get to see just your average girl that wasn’t excruciatingly feminine or intimidatingly butch exist successfully or without being shot for shock value, or without being used to showcase what addiction looked like. Sapphics just didn’t get happy endings when I was growing up. 

Creators like CozyK inspire me to have deeper discussions and create space where transphobia isn't going to be tolerated. I want to be a voice for those on similar journeys while not turning my back on a part of the community that, frankly, had a huge influence on the rights many of us in the community take advantage of in the day to day. What Kennedy does for her internet community is inspiring to me, reminding her viewers to relax, to take time for themselves, and give themselves grace to just exist and heal. Another creator I want to try and emulate is The Book Leo. Her videos discussing tropes or commentary on romantasy or subgenres or even the booktok community are so well researched and designed. I want to emulate the calm way that she shares her thoughts and how in depth she’s able to go on the various books that she’s read. Both for the books I plan to read and share here, but also the deeper discussions on identity, gender, the lgbtq+ community as a whole, the whole spectrum of content I want to make here. 

Originally I had thought about making YouTube content, and maybe one day that will happen. But where I live now is too oppressive to do so. I live in a very red city in Florida, the house I live at with my wife is not the most accepting to LGBTQ+ folk and have no idea that I'm even remotely queer, and we are in the process of saving up to move up north - likely to Wisconsin or some other Midwestern state. Besides, writing has always been a passion of mine.

This Tumblr will focus on self-reflection, cozy hobbies, and sapphic media. While destransitioning is part of my story, I don’t want it to be the sole focus of the space I'm creating. Instead, I want to celebrate the journey of self-discovery and the importance of the lesbian community that frankly gets talked over a lot. 

If this resonates with you, follow, reblog, or feel free to ask me questions. I’d love for this to be a space where we can connect and support one another. A warning, however, I will be blocking any and all hate directed towards trans people, lesbians, and any otherwise offensive language. I’m not going to embolden hate, terfs, or chosen ignorance to the nuance behind this post, but I do welcome calm discussions because I know what a major topic this is right now. 

So, while I do hope we meet again, if this is your only stop with me, I’m glad we got the chance to meet. 

[cryptidsurveys]

Thursday, November 14th, 2024.

What have you been up to today? Anything interesting? I haven't been up to much at all. I've watched some YouTube, vacuumed my room and the upstairs hallway, and later I'm going to be making a pecan pie to take to the animal shelter tomorrow.

What was the last thing you ate? Oatmeal with fruit, peanut butter, chocolate syrup, part of a Carnation instant breakfast packet, and sprinkles.

Do you know how to knit? Who taught you? I used to know how to knit and could easily pick it back up again if I wanted to. No one taught me. Well, that is to say, no one personally taught me. I watched videos and learned from there.

What state or territory were you born in? Louisiana.

What’s your favourite genre of music? I have been loving classical music lately. We've even started playing that station at work as nighttime ambiance for the cats, but sometimes we will leave it on during the day as well. I also enjoy classic rock, as well as some grunge, stoner/psychedelic, alternative, folk, and indie. A little bit of pop and hip-hop/rap.

Have you ever been for a ride in the back of a truck? A few times.

Are you currently downloading anything? I'm not currently downloading anything, but like I mentioned in a recent survey, I am strongly considering getting into Stardew Valley. It seems relaxing and cute. At least three of my coworkers play, and I want to get in on the fun and discussions.

Have you seen any good movies lately? Tell me about them. Wild Robot and Inside Out 2.

Does your father have any facial hair? He shaves regularly, but he might have some stubble. I don't really pay much attention.

What’s your favourite thing to eat for breakfast? Oatmeal. I have it on an almost daily basis. If I went out to eat, then I would probably get something like a breakfast skillet with eggs over easy and toast.

Did your grandparents teach you anything? I never knew my grandparents on my mom's side (her mom died when she was a child and her father was abusive so we never met him). I only saw my grandparents on my dad's side a few times before they passed away. I don't recall them teaching me anything in particular.

Do you want/have a Bachelor’s degree? I don't, but if I ever went back to school, then it would most likely be for veterinary technology. I would already have a foot in the door at the animal shelter. It's not something I'm serious about at the moment, but let's call it a nebulous 5-10 year plan.

Have you ever written a song for or about somebody? About someone, maybe. But for someone, I don't think so.

Are you into superheroes? Who’s your favourite? Naw. They've never been my thing.

Spotify, Pandora or something else entirely? YouTube.

What colours do you wear the most? Black, blue, pine green, and shades of gray.

What was the last alcoholic beverage you had? Beer at that fundraising event over the summer.

How many televisions do you have in your house? How big is the biggest? Two. I don't know exactly how big they are, but they're not huge. We also don't really use them anymore.

Have you ever been to Arizona? Did you like it? Yeah. We went there when I was in elementary school to stay with some friends of my dad's. I loved the desert landscape around their home. Huge saguaro cacti. Very neat.

Are you a gossip-loving sort of person? Unfortunately, yes. It's a character flaw that I'm trying to eliminate. Especially in the workplace. I understand venting frustrations, but beyond that…it doesn't do me or anyone else any good. It's such a difficult habit to get out of, though. People are always talking about other people, and it's awkward to distance myself and not participate. It's also extremely tempting.

What brand of laptop or computer do you own or use most often? I have a Dell desktop.

What did you have for dinner last night? Mixed veggies with sriracha sauce and a toasted cheese and jalapeno sandwich.

How old were you when you learned to tie your own shoelaces? I have vague memories of being taught while I was in Louisiana, so maybe around 3-4 years old.

Have you ever felt like you were making a mistake when dating someone?

When was the last time it rained where you live? I think there was a bit of rain mixed in with the snow we got about a week ago.

What brand are the shoes you last wore? I'm not sure. They're just a cheap pair I bought at Walmart because my hiking shoes were falling apart.

Do you think you look similar to your siblings? You could probably tell by our facial features that we're related, but our bodies/builds are different.

When was the last time you sat in the back seat of a car? I think it would have been when my parents and I went to see the new Wonka movie.

Are you good at answering random general knowledge trivia questions? Depends on the subject.

Have you ever been obsessive over calories, exercise etc.? Yeah.

What is your favourite shape of pasta? Elbows, spirals, and shells.

Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? I haven't.

Are you going to work or school tomorrow? Yeah. Full day at the animal shelter.

When did you wake up today? A little after 6:00am.

What is the time right now? It's 9:23am.

[shefanispeculator]

 By Maia Kedem, Audacy

Following Bru wishing Gwen a happy belated birthday, (it's October 3), Stefani shared some deets about this year’s memorable celebration, after feeling a bit lonely during her birthday last year.

“A year ago… I had a show in Hawaii on my birthday and I was like, oh, yeah, I'll go get a little pile of money and come home and I don't care about my birthday.” However, as Gwen revealed, “I went on my own and I, like, spiraled into this like place. I was like, everybody needs to have a birthday I think like a celebration.”

That being said, something good came out of it. “I ended up writing this song called ‘Swallow My Tears,’ which is on the new record,” Gwen offered. “But this birthday, I was like, OK, no, we got to do something,” she continued, sharing all about the Colorado trip her hubby Blake Shelton took her family on.

With Gwen’s upcoming fifth studio album, Bouquet, set to drop on November 15, the singer shared her current emotional state about everything as a whole, saying, “I feel so grateful… it was one of those like… all I can do is look back at all of the whole career and be like, wow, how did that happen?”

After 2020, Gwen felt the want to start writing again, but also felt that she had so many things going on. “I'm a mom… I felt guilty to even go to the studio and try to write music because a lot of times you go and nothing happens,” Gwen shared. “But I started working on it and I think I went down like a lot of like, weird cul-de-sacs musically, because I didn't really know what I wanted to be or who I was. I was trying to chase the old me like, okay, I want to do reggae or I'm gonna do this, and nothing was landing.”

After a few failed attempts, and less than stellar reviews when she’d play the material for people, Gwen came to the realization that, “it really just comes down to, you have to like it,  you as the person doing it.”

“I wanted to always be real and truthful and honest and I just had to find that real honest place.” Noting it also has a lot to do with “the people that I actually end up writing the songs with, like finding the right chemistry, the right everything to make it all come together.”

“Once I wrote ‘Purple Irises’… that was like, finally, okay, I landed in the spot, and then the record kind of happened pretty quick after that.”

Discussing the sound she landed on for the album, Gwen said, “I knew I wanted to make something that I wanted to listen to. The older I get, the more I go back to the songs that I grew up with as a kid. Which I think we kind of call it yacht-rock now, but at that time it was just the popular soft rock music, like anything from Steely Dan, The Eagles, Carly Simon, James Taylor. There was like a lot of singer-songwriters back then… there was no computers, it was just music, organic. So I really wanted to do something in that kind of world.” Going on to recall that after writing and demoing the songs, despite how out of her comfort zone it might have been, the next step was to “rerecord the whole thing with a live band in that style.”

“So we ended up going back and I got to work with this producer called Scott Hendrix, who’s actually a Country producer, which I knew through Blake,” and had just recently retired. “I wasn’t able to work with them until that happened,” adding, “so it just all lined up exactly.”

“Four days after he retired we were in the studio and we cut all the songs with live music," Gwen continued, expressing how “amazing” and “spiritual” the process was. “That’s what the record is… A bouquet of all these songs that are a collection… edited down to me kind of right now, and what I've been going through, healing, to get to this point in my

 By Maia Kedem, Audacy

16 minutes ago

Joining Bru for an Audacy Check In, Gwen Stefani is here to fill us in on her forthcoming album Bouquet. From finding the right sound, to feeling inspired by the “group of amazing songwriters” she worked with, the “spiritual” recording process, and more.

LISTEN NOW: Audacy Check In with Gwen Stefani

Following Bru wishing Gwen a happy belated birthday, (it's October 3), Stefani shared some deets about this year’s memorable celebration, after feeling a bit lonely during her birthday last year.

“A year ago… I had a show in Hawaii on my birthday and I was like, oh, yeah, I'll go get a little pile of money and come home and I don't care about my birthday.” However, as Gwen revealed, “I went on my own and I, like, spiraled into this like place. I was like, everybody needs to have a birthday I think like a celebration.”

That being said, something good came out of it. “I ended up writing this song called ‘Swallow My Tears,’ which is on the new record,” Gwen offered. “But this birthday, I was like, OK, no, we got to do something,” she continued, sharing all about the Colorado trip her hubby Blake Shelton took her family on.

With Gwen’s upcoming fifth studio album, Bouquet, set to drop on November 15, the singer shared her current emotional state about everything as a whole, saying, “I feel so grateful… it was one of those like… all I can do is look back at all of the whole career and be like, wow, how did that happen?”

After 2020, Gwen felt the want to start writing again, but also felt that she had so many things going on. “I'm a mom… I felt guilty to even go to the studio and try to write music because a lot of times you go and nothing happens,” Gwen shared. “But I started working on it and I think I went down like a lot of like, weird cul-de-sacs musically, because I didn't really know what I wanted to be or who I was. I was trying to chase the old me like, okay, I want to do reggae or I'm gonna do this, and nothing was landing.”

After a few failed attempts, and less than stellar reviews when she’d play the material for people, Gwen came to the realization that, “it really just comes down to, you have to like it,  you as the person doing it.”

“I wanted to always be real and truthful and honest and I just had to find that real honest place.” Noting it also has a lot to do with “the people that I actually end up writing the songs with, like finding the right chemistry, the right everything to make it all come together.”

“Once I wrote ‘Purple Irises’… that was like, finally, okay, I landed in the spot, and then the record kind of happened pretty quick after that.”

Discussing the sound she landed on for the album, Gwen said, “I knew I wanted to make something that I wanted to listen to. The older I get, the more I go back to the songs that I grew up with as a kid. Which I think we kind of call it yacht-rock now, but at that time it was just the popular soft rock music, like anything from Steely Dan, The Eagles, Carly Simon, James Taylor. There was like a lot of singer-songwriters back then… there was no computers, it was just music, organic. So I really wanted to do something in that kind of world.” Going on to recall that after writing and demoing the songs, despite how out of her comfort zone it might have been, the next step was to “rerecord the whole thing with a live band in that style.”

“So we ended up going back and I got to work with this producer called Scott Hendrix, who’s actually a Country producer, which I knew through Blake,” and had just recently retired. “I wasn’t able to work with them until that happened,” adding, “so it just all lined up exactly.”

“Four days after he retired we were in the studio and we cut all the songs with live music," Gwen continued, expressing how “amazing” and “spiritual” the process was. “That’s what the record is… A bouquet of all these songs that are a collection… edited down to me kind of right now, and what I've been going through, healing, to get to this point in my life.”

Gwen also went on to chat about getting to work on her duet with Blake, what direction she thinks her music would have taken if she didn’t grow up in Orange County, and that Coachella performance with Olivia Rodrigo. Also discussing feeling inspired by her songwriting process with a “group of amazing songwriters,” two of which were “young girls that were like ‘oh my God, my mom used to listen to you’, it was just so inspiring for me, you know, to be with, to see these girls and try to think back to what I was at that age and like they were.”

The conversation continued from there, with Gwen listing off and expanding on some of the amazing collaborators she worked with, getting a star on the Walk of Fame, being a coach on The Voice, and so much more. To catch it all, check out the entire Audacy Check In above.

[fxreflyes]

Prithee tell us about your favorite visits to museums, firefly. It’s a long and silent January night and your stories will keep madness from us. (To be read in the voice of a Dickensian child of 6 years old, sitting before the hearth.) ☕️

hey hey!! :) my favorite seafaring vessel, a joy as always to meet u here. fret not, i will not let madness consume you! <3

(the context for the voice definitely helped, i most certainly did read it in the voice of a dickensian child. i can hear the crackle of the hearth as i pen these words!)

oh where to start! this is a bit of a brain dump, but is semi-chronological and images included in the order of discussion

first, summer of 2016, going to the hermitage and making puns about all of the art! they were not good puns. i believe my brother called the statue below a "boar"ing statue. it was quite hot since we went in summer and we were very surprised that the musuem had no ac since there is generally some to protect the art from the elements. so twas a very sticky and humor filled walk thru some art that has seen quite a lot (pic 1)

fall of 2018, went to the met's heavenly body's fashion exhibit with 2 friends from high school. i love & still go to musuem's w one of them, she's v sweet. the exhibit took place in the part of the museum that is older and looks like a church, so it was v prescient!! (pics 2-4, the leather jacket was so cool)

spring 2019, went to the met again (can u tell i went to college in nyc) and to the frick for my art history class to do a scavenger hunt for the class. quite honestly the most fun assignment ever. it was going through the museums and finding the art and writing about it. there were 50 or so things to find out. we went 3 times total for 3 sessions of the hunt. went w my dad for one, he has said he wants to do more even now

fall of 2019 i went to the met's instruments of rock n roll and saw instruments from a lot of famous musicians! i have a bunch of pics of them, but was v fun i went w my dad and got a bunch of music taste from him so that was cool. i was v amused by this many headed guitar hahaha (pic 5)

winter 2020 i went to a black tie gala in an art musuem so that was v fun & festive!!!

ok covid took a hit to this list so fall 2021! natural history musuem in london! went w my brother bc he was doing his masters same time as i was studying abroad there. i mean it's gorgeous. my brother is v interested in rocks so spent a while in the geology section! lots of cool rocks.

feb 2022, went to the met around my bday! my bf flew to visit me. saw very cool swords. pictured below!

summer 2022, went to the Louvre and the musee d'Orsay! saw the painting of dante and virgil in hell which was v cool, i have always loved that one.

for the sake of brevity, lets go to feb 2023, went to the whitney to see my fav artist edward hopper and an exhibit on him! went w the same friend as i went to the met in 2018 w. went w my brother too. fav exhibit ever probably, just bc i love hopper and i have included my fav painting by him, new york movie! my mom had a book on hopper growing up on our coffee table so always read it

oh my this is not brief. the fire is dwindling! ill stoke it.

this summer! the prado in madrid! i love goya so seeing his work was just so cool. they v sadly didnt allow photography in the museum but saw his black paintings the ones w saturn eating his children.

i hope my little tales help stave off the madness <33

[heavencasteel420]

Can you do director’s commentary on Nancy’s letter drafts to Jonathan? 🥹 The one where she pretends she got Barb back killed me

Thank you for the ask! I'm so glad you liked the Barb letter; it was a late addition and I'm very fond of it myself.

(Some discussion of suicide and Billy being gross below the cut, not beyond what appears in the fic.)

Okay, so first of all, the Regular Letter:

Dear Jonathan,

I hope that you're doing well. I thought I would write to you to ask how things are going in Indianapolis. I know we didn’t really talk when you were still in Hawkins, but I was thinking about you the other day and wanted to see how you were.

What’s it like living in a city? I know it’s just Indianapolis, but I bet the record stores are better. I remember you liked all that art rock stuff. It’s probably nice to be in a place with more kinds of people, too. It gets a little boring around here.

Things are about the same for me. School is going well, even though I’m about to tear my hair out over chemistry. I’m still going out with Steve Harrington. You are probably making a face now and thinking “Ugh, Steve Harrington.”He’s actually matured a lot, though. And maybe you’re actually wondering why he’d go out with dorky Nancy Wheeler. Well, I haven’t matured a lot. I guess I’m about the same.

Do you remember Barb Holland, my best friend? There hasn’t been any news since you moved away. I don’t think she would’ve gone to Indianapolis, but could you keep an eye out for her?

Mom and Dad and Mike and Holly are all doing well. I hope you are, too.

Sincerely,

Nancy

Nancy's being so normal right now! She's very carefully trying not to brush up against any of the things about Jonathan's life that might be hard or weird or bad, which is difficult because all she has to go on is that he lives in Indianapolis with his dad and not in a mental hospital. (She remembers his taste in music, though!) She's sharing totally benign news about her own life

...and yet she's already getting a little weird with it. She brings up Jonathan's presumed dislike of Steve when (a) that's not something he ever shared with her and (b) it's not really a lighthearted topic, given that Jonathan's reason for disliking Steve is his obvious disdain for the Byers family. (I did have a draft where she says "ugh, Steve Harrington" in the letter she sends to Jonathan, and Jonathan's like "yes, Nancy, that's exactly how I said it, because I'm actually a Valley Girl now, how did you know?")

Her self-loathing also creeps in, albeit in a mild way. Her reasons for feeling not good enough for Steve are way sadder than her initial insecurity over him being cooler and slightly older, but she's still acting like Nice Girl Nancy in this letter so she reverts to that. And of course she asks about Barb.

(She crumpled up this letter and put it in the wastebasket because she thought it sounded too stupid.)

Now...the Mean Letter.

Dear Jonathan,

How are you doing? It doesn’t matter, because I’m about to make it worse, just like I always do. Maybe you remember the day I came up to you in the hallway and said I was sorry about Will. Maybe you don’t, because too many horrible things happened afterwards and there’s no reason you’d remember one wimpy girl offering her pathetic condolences. Either way, that’s maybe the last nice thing I ever did, and it wasn’t much.

Nancy's mostly being mean to herself here, but this would also be a super-fucked-up letter to send to Jonathan. She's just so angry at herself that she's indulging this fantasy of being horrible to other people, too.

Why am I writing to you, then, when I never talked to you when it might have actually helped? Well, hear me out: I was drinking in your old house with a bunch of kids who used to make fun of you for being weird and poor. That’s what people do in your old house now: drink and stare at the evidence of your mom losing her mind, like a bunch of ghouls. Tommy Hagan was one of them. Remember how he used to say you’d murdered Will? He feels kind of bad about it since you tried to kill yourself. Anyway, I drank too much bourbon and hallucinated your brother’s ghost. Just thought I’d let you know, in case you were nostalgic for the worst three months of your life. God, I hope they were the worst.

She's more actively ashamed of hanging out in his old house now (although, being Nancy, she's eventually going to be like "well, I did find Will's ghost, though!"). She's also recognizing that, even if she wrote it in a nice way, bringing up this false hope has the potential to be incredibly cruel.

What else is new? I let Billy Hargrove (you don’t know him, he moved here after you went away, but he’s an asshole) touch my boobs at a party, even though I’ve been going out with Steve Harrington for a year. I know Steve was always rude and snotty to you, but, trust me, I’m way worse than he is. I think Barb would hate the person I am now. Maybe she already knew I would turn out like this, and that’s why she left.

Her self-loathing is sharper and more specific here. She's not just hateful; Barb would hate her, and she caused Barb's disappearance by being awful. This is, of course, pretty nonsensical, given that (a) Barb couldn't predict the future and (b) if Barb could see what Nancy was going through, she would recognize that her drinking and her brittleness and her apathy are the result of losing her. She would be very sad!

I almost hope that’s true. If she left because she hated me, that would mean that she decided to leave, instead of being taken away. That would mean maybe she’s okay.

Anger is easier for Nancy to deal with than the grief underneath it, but the grief still works its way into the letter. She's probably a little drunk when she writes this.

I could probably get sued or even arrested for writing this letter. Recklessly using the U.S. Postal Service to inflict emotional distress or something. Maybe you can tell your dad to stop trying to sue the quarry and set his sights on Queen Bitch Nancy Wheeler instead.

I don’t know why I’m saying all of this to you. You don’t deserve it.

Sincerely yours,

Nancy

Again, this would be a fucked-up thing to say if she ever sent the letter, regardless of Jonathan's feelings about his dad. She scribbles over and tears up this letter, partly because she's horrified by it and partly because she really doesn't want Karen to find it. Karen totally goes through her stuff.

And the Barb Letter!

Dear Jonathan,

I know it’s probably weird to get a letter from me. We only really knew each other through Mike and Will, but you were always nice to them even when they (almost always Mike, let’s be honest) made me want to tear my hair out. I’m really sorry about everything that happened, and I should have written sooner. In my defense, a lot of things have been going on.

This is the only letter where Nancy really talks about Mike, who is mentioned throughout the non-letter parts of the chapter as being depressed and withdrawn. She's both concerned about and detached from his suffering; it doesn't occur to her to reach out to him herself. It's only in the fantasy letter than she can really acknowledge him.

When you left Hawkins, I was still going out with Steve Harrington and my best friend Barb was still missing. Neither of those things are true anymore. Steve was actually a good boyfriend. I know he wasn’t always great in other ways, but he really tried to be there for me when Barb was gone. I wasn’t a very good girlfriend. I was just sad all the time and picked fights with his friends. Not that it’s hard to get into fights with Tommy and Carol, but mostly I hated them for not being Barb.

After she came home, there wasn’t really any reason for us to keep dating. I just wanted to spend time with Barb and he didn’t feel like he had to look after me. He’s with Chrissy Cunningham now. You probably remember her—she was always really sweet and cute, and she made the cheerleading squad sophomore year. She’s good at it, too. Anyway, I’m really happy for her and Steve.

Deep down, Nancy knows what she wants and needs to let Steve go, at least as a boyfriend, but that's excruciatingly hard when she cares about him and he's her only friend...except for maybe Tommy and Carol, whom she assumes would stop hanging out with her if she broke up with Steve. And she does have some positive feelings towards them, too.

Chrissy, of course, has her own problems, but to Nancy she's an avatar of Ideal Teenage Girlhood.

Barb really did run away. She took a bus way out West, to some little town in Nevada. She worked as a waitress and lived in a dirty house with a bunch of other girls. She says it was exciting sometimes, and the desert was beautiful, but mostly it was just hard and lonely. She wanted to come home pretty soon after she left, but she couldn’t face everyone after scaring them so badly. It was only after some asshole stole all her money that she called home.

Nancy has, without realizing it, constructed a Desert Hearts scenario for Barb in her head. She's going to hold onto that lesbian dream even though she is only barely aware that Barb might've been gay.

I was mad at her for maybe five seconds after I found out, because I’d worried something worse had happened, but I couldn’t stay that way. I was too happy to have her back. Besides, she was going through a lot of things I never knew about. I won’t go too much into it because it’s her private business, but she felt really alone and some of that was because of how I acted. She thought I was going to ditch her for Steve and his friends. I don’t think I would have. I love her too much. But I can understand why she thought so. I think some people can be good no matter what happens or who they’re with, but I’m not one of them. I didn’t like who I was with Steve and his friends, and it wasn’t even their fault. It was me.

Nancy's kind of overcorrecting here. Obviously she was not immune to peer pressure as a high school sophomore, but as we see in canon this is a function of youth and circumstances, not an essential wishy-washiness in her soul. This is the girl who, at a crucial popularity-making moment, offered her condolences to Jonathan when the people she was with clearly thought it was weird and unnecessary.

I wish I’d talked to you in between coming up to you at the bulletin board that day and writing this letter. I knew things were bad, that your mom wasn’t working or even leaving the house anymore, and you always looked so tired in school. My mom was worried about you both. I didn’t feel like I could do anything to help, because I was so messed up myself, but maybe it would’ve made a difference. Which is maybe why I’m writing now. I have no idea how things are for you in Indianapolis. I don’t expect you to write back to me and tell me. But, if you want to write me, I’d like to hear from you. Mike would probably also like to hear how you’re doing. He misses Will, too.

Yours truly,

Nancy

She's not being totally fair to herself here, either. Even Karen, an adult with some resources who cared about the Byers family and recognized there was a problem, couldn't figure out what to do on her own. But the instinct for noticing and connecting is a good one.

The Final Letter!

Dear Jonathan,

I’ve tried to write this letter a bunch of times, but I don’t think there’s any getting around the fact that I’m doing something weird. We never really talked before, except in passing. It wasn’t because I had bad feelings towards you. Our lives just seemed so different. You always seemed like a miniature adult, looking after your brother and working to pay the bills, while I was reading Seventeen with Barb and fantasizing about marrying Mikhail Baryshnikov.

This is a pretty blunt thing to say, that she noticed his life was hard and she found that alienating. She's getting farther and farther away from writing the letter the way she would to a real person; this is a note in a bottle, a message beamed into space.

Also, I strongly believe in younger Nancy's crush on ballet dancer and Soviet defector Mikhail Baryshnikov. My mom is almost an exact contemporary of Nancy's, and that was her junior high crush.

I almost didn’t come up to you at the bulletin board that day, because what could I say to you? My biggest problem was trying to date Steve Harrington without hurting Barb’s feelings or strangling his friends. Isn’t it strange that I thought that, and the very next day my own best friend disappeared and no one seemed to know what to say to me? Barb’s parents are the only other people I know who would understand, and of course it’s worse for them, but they’re so optimistic that she’ll come back that I feel like the worst person in the world around them. Because I think she’s dead. Maybe you remember me screaming in the hallway about it, after I broke my own hand. I don’t do crazy stuff like that anymore, but I still believe what I said. I can almost believe that Barb would run away, that something was making her so unhappy that she couldn’t stay in Hawkins and for some reason she couldn’t tell me what it was, but I can’t believe she would leave me and her parents without letting us know she was safe. She was responsible. She loved her parents. She loved me.

Nancy and Steve aren't regularly having dinner with the Hollands in this universe, because Nancy doesn't feel a special responsibility due to knowing the truth. They're still in town, though, and holding on to the hope that Barb is alive. This is part of why Nancy doesn't say anything to Jonathan about Will's voice; she knows how cruel hope can be.

She's a little more clear-headed here, though. No matter how bad she feels about her last moments with Barb, intellectually she recognizes that they probably weren't enough to drive Barb away and that something is off.

I feel like I moved to another country after she disappeared. Everyone else I know is still in America and I’m in Kiribati. Do you feel that way, too, or is it different because you’re in a new place? I’m not trying to say our situations are exactly the same, but I think you might understand what I’m feeling more than anyone in Hawkins. Why didn’t I talk to you before? I saw you, drifting through the halls like a ghost, and I felt bad.

She's not consistently keeping in mind that he might read this letter. She's expressing compassion here, but she's also calling him a ghost, which is pretty messed-up.

I don’t really understand why I did anything back then, honestly. Did you know I poured pig blood all over Officer Callahan’s car last May? (His personal car, not his cop car—I wasn’t that stupid.) He acted like a pig the first time I talked to him and Officer Powell about Barb disappearing, making it all about how I had sex with Steve Harrington that night. He did that in front of my mom, and he looked really pleased with himself for embarrassing me. Like he was knocking me down a peg for thinking I had something important to tell the police, and that was way more important to him than the fact that Barb was in danger. I guess I was still stewing about it months later, because I got drunk and bitched about it to Carol—you remember Carol Perkins? Big hair, bigger mouth?—and she said I should do something about it. So she and Tommy Hagan helped me get some pig’s blood and dump it all over his car the very next week. I think that’s why I’m still friends with them. They’re assholes sometimes, but it wasn’t easy to get all that pig’s blood.

Nancy "Fuck Tha Police" Wheeler, everyone. Powell and Callahan are mostly comic figures in the show, but their behavior when they're questioning Nancy in front of her mom in S1 is so incredibly gross, especially Callahan's.

Carol and Nancy might not get along, but she's not gonna let some sleazy cop insult her sort-of friend! Tommy was like "oh, this fucks, actually" about it.

This is another instance where Nancy is being super-frank, in a way she might not be if she really expected an answer from Jonathan.

Steve—I’m still going out with Steve Harrington—thought we took it a little too far. He’s nicer than me, and he was worried about me getting in trouble. I did, of course. Callahan didn’t press charges, but my parents had to pay for repairs. Dad was so confused. He actually asked if I wanted people to think I was a Manson Girl. Mom made me go see a psychiatrist, who was almost as disgusting as Callahan. I didn’t even know a woman could be that gross. All she wanted to do was talk about why I had sex with Steve when we hadn’t been going out that long. Like wanting to have sex with a good-looking guy made me a nympho and that was the real problem. I don’t know if you’ve seen a psychiatrist, but, if you have, I hope it was actually helpful and not a stupid, humiliating waste of time.

Nancy kind of gets off the hook for being a nice white middle-class girl, plus all of Hawkins knows why she's Like That. Karen's intentions are good, but Ted's indifference is a powerful force, especially when the first psychiatrist is bad.

She's sort of acknowledging some uncomfortable facts about Jonathan's life now, and maybe kind of fishing for info.

Mom stopped making me go pretty soon, at least, since I’d calmed down and Dad kept pestering her about the bill. I still do messed-up stuff, but I’m sneakier about it. I drink a lot. Bourbon is my favorite. I also let this really sleazy new senior, Billy Hargrove, put his hand on my boob at a party this Halloween. It wasn’t a surprise or anything. He gave me more than enough time to say “I have a boyfriend” or move away. I wanted to let him, because he was looking at me like I was something gross he’d stepped in, and that was how I felt.

Billy makes a move on Nancy mostly because she's Steve's girlfriend and he feels the need to knock Steve down a peg so Billy can be the Big Man on Campus. (This may also be a way to channel his own attraction to Steve—either way, it’s not very nice to Nancy.) But he’s also intrigued by how much she hates it. Also, this isn’t a case where Nancy freezes up, but that could have very well been what was happening so Billy is doing something kind of shitty.

You probably don’t want to hear any of this. I would understand if you threw this letter in the garbage. Even if you do, I want to let you know I’m glad you’re alive. That was the only good thing to come out of this whole mess.

Love,

Nancy

Nancy lashes out and distances herself a lot in this fic, but she has a lot of kindness in her heart and she really means this, partly just because Jonathan is a fellow human being and partly because she’s holding onto the idea that someone got out of Hawkins and was able to be happy. This is also pretty blunt of her—she’s acknowledging the suicide attempt—but in this case her directness is actually pretty necessary. He hasn’t heard this much, if ever, between Joyce not knowing he tried to kill himself and Lonnie refusing to acknowledge (to him, anyway) that the attempt was serious.

[zanhough]

Grand River: Common Problems

4

Music: Life in a Northern Town, The Dream Academy

Kevin packed his bag as the final bell of the day rang and exited the newspaper room and the side door of the building. As he approached his car, he saw Curt standing there, leaning on the driver’s door and staring up at the nearby trees, seemingly oblivious to Kevin's presence.

“Twice in one day… alright,” Kevin said to himself, intrigued as he approached Curt. 

“Hey,” Curt greeted him, but fell silent for a moment thereafter.

“Looks like you’re already dressed for practice,” Kevin remarked.

“Yeah,” Curt replied, a hint of awkwardness in his voice. “Well, we have extended practice on Tuesdays.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow and asked, “And you mixed up your days?”

Curt paused before replying, “Yeah,” but didn't elaborate further.

Kevin chuckled and asked, “So, what now?”

After thinking for a moment, Curt suggested, “I think Sherri’s is open if you want pizza.”

“Hey, I can always go for that,” Kevin responded.

Sherri’s Pizza was an old building filled with worn tables and chairs. It had a damp smell after the snow melted, but the place was clean, and the pizza was delicious. The nostalgia of it all resonated with the town’s 1,300 residents. Curt ordered a pizza, and they took it to go. Once back in Kevin’s car, they drove out to the boat launch along the shore, with Blue Water Highway on the opposite side. It was quiet during the week, leaving only Kevin and Curt, who started joking about various local topics before diving into discussions about their family dynamics.

Curious, Curt asked Kevin why he had moved from Atlanta to a Michigan farming community to live with his dad.

“It wasn’t entirely my choice, honestly. My mom felt I wasn’t living my best life, and I believed I could get a better education here,” Kevin explained.

Curt then asked, “Forgive me for being blunt, but was it because of the gay thing?”

Kevin hesitated before admitting, “Well, kinda. My brother outed me, and my mom sent me here as a form of punishment. Honestly, I didn’t challenge it because my dad is less homophobic.”

“It’s just hard to have male friends. My dad is so uncomfortable with the topic that he thinks I’m fooling around with any guy,” Kevin continued. “The last thing I want is for a Woodward to call a local parent and make accusations. The fallout from that would be crushing for everyone. I wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with him. He may not have power, but he knows how to make people feel like he does, and he uses it to keep me in line. He could make one accusation and turn me into a pariah.”

Curt skipped a rock across the riverbed while giving Kevin an understanding look. “That’s just parents, I think. My whole identity is basketball. Beyond that, I don’t know who I really am, or if my parents would even like me without it.”

Kevin hadn’t realized until that moment how similar their situations were.

“So you get it. I know the details are different, but the feelings are the same,” Kevin said. “I honestly hate that you can relate. No one should feel like that.”

As Kevin began gathering up the trash, he said, “I need to get home, unfortunately. We’re preparing for harvest, and it’s going to be a wild one since it’ll just be me and my dad in the entire west field.”

Curious, Curt asked, “What’s in the west field?”

“Corn. It’s about 60 acres, and Dad believes he can run the combine without any help this year since I'm home,” Kevin replied. “It’s a lot for just one person, so I’ll have to work three shifts unloading the trailers into the semi: 9 PM, midnight, and 3 AM on the weekends.”

[bllsbailey]

May They Be Home Soon: John Ondrasik Discusses Moving 'Superman' Version Supporting Israeli Hostages

John Ondrasik, the songwriter and pianist known for blending pop-rock with emotional storytelling, has released a new version of his hit single "Superman (It's Not Easy)" to draw attention to Israeli hostages still held by Hamas since the October 7th terrorist attacks.

The brand-new release is a collaboration with current hostage Alon Ohel’s mother, Idit, and his brother, Ronen, along with additional family and friends.

This version changes a lyric in the certified Gold song to "Find a way to Fly - To a home I will soon see.”

In doing so, "Superman" transforms from a song about a hero experiencing human struggles to one of hope for the men and women still in captivity, achieving their own heroism by surviving unspeakable conditions and returning home soon.

Ondrasik spoke with RedState about the collaboration, explaining what inspired him to reimagine "Superman" specifically for Ohel and the Israeli hostages still held in Gaza.

Ohel is a 24-year-old Israeli pianist and musician, abducted by Hamas from the Nova music festival on October 7th and is currently being held in dire conditions in Gaza. He is facing severe injuries and starvation.

The music connection, along with one particular image of a young Ohel dressed as Superman, helped inspire the Grammy-nominated star.

"Alon's mom, Idit, and her team reached out to me looking to do a musical collaboration to support her son and the hostages," Ondrasik explains. "I was honored to do so and it became very clear that 'Superman' should be the song as I had played the song in Hostage Square last year on Alon's piano."

"When we saw a picture of Alon in his Superman jammies, I think we all went to another level of heartbreak."

That image of a six-year-old Ohel dressed as Clark Kent ripping his suit open to reveal the iconic 'S' symbol can be seen in the above video at the conclusion of the song.

Ondrasik, who has been an unapologetic supporter of Israel and the hostages, performed in Tel Aviv’s Hostage Square in April of 2024. The performance helped open his eyes to the plight of those suffering in horrific conditions for far too long.

"When I went to Israel, part of our mission was to meet with hostage families. I brought my son and spoke with many families who had children his age in captivity," he said. "I kept imagining myself in their position and thinking of the unbearable burden they suffer every day.

"The spiritual strength and resilience of the hostage families is truly superhuman, and I was honored to hug them and perform for them that night at hostage square."

Reality quickly struck with that performance, as just hours later, Iran launched missiles and drones into Israeli airspace, putting the country on high alert.

"A few hours later, Iran attacked, and I experienced the fear and trauma of what Jews face daily," Ondrasik recalled. "Thank goodness for that iron dome."

Shortly thereafter, Ondrosik released the song "OK," a poignant protest ballad that condemns the moral relativism and antisemitism following Hamas's attack on Israel and blasts protesters in America supporting the terrorist group.

The official video for "OK," seen below, contains a warning regarding sensitive content, which we reiterate for our readers.

Ondrasik said the experience of collaborating with Ohel's family has only strengthened his resolve in supporting hostages still remarkably being held by Hamas to this day.

"It only deepens my commitment to support the hostages, their families, and Jewish people around the world," he said. "It is an outrage of humanity that there are still 59 hostages held in Gaza on day 557."

"I know we all hope and pray they will be home soon."

Idit Ohel is herself a symbol of that hope.

“Alon is coming home alive. I will say it a thousand times. Alon is coming home alive, and I just have to make sure of it. I have to do everything to make sure he comes back as soon as possible,” she recently told JNS.

Alon is already Superman for what he's endured. As is Idit.

It's time he and the remaining hostages are brought home.

[clochanam]

dinner table conversations.

send in “ dinner table conversations. ” to my inbox and i’ll reply with a drabble where aisling, the squad and the kids all discuss your muse at the dinner table!  ( ALWAYS ACCEPTING! )

" maple cookies? " this is the point where the group divides. somehow, working with wolverine isn't the unbelievable part. nor is the fact that logan enjoys hanging out with advik (who wouldn't?). no. the point on which nobody is willing to agree, is that he likes maple cookies.

" why can't he like maple cookies? " she frowns, drizzling balsamic glaze over her salad.

" i mean, we're not saying he can't... it's just... well, we figured he'd be more of a steak and scotch man. " tim explains, helping himself to another scoop of pasta.

" so, just steak, then? he's not allowed to eat anything else? "

" nobody said that! just that he doesn't seem like he'd enjoy cookies. " fatin pauses, slicing a piece of cheese for herself. " maybe pie? like pecan pie or apple, something more rustic. he always looks like he's ready to sit in a rocking chair on a porch somewhere in the woods. little tin cup of coffee, country music in the background... he's pretty old, right? probably saved enough lives. i think he's earned a nice retirement with a slice of pie. no cookies, though; i mean, the crumbs would get all stuck in his beard! "

" he doesn't have a beard. " eli grins, leaning back in his chair with a glass of lemonade. " besides, that's a dumb point. he can't eat the cookies because the sound would scare off all the deer, right, advik? besides, he drives a motorcycle, mom! bikers don't eat cookies. "

" not with that attitude-- "

advik seldom looks unhappy. right now, he looks murderous, which is ironically an adorable expression on one so young. " logan does SO eat cookies! he loves them! and he got us chocolates, and very special chocolates for mum! "

" okay-- "

" AND he takes me out to see the deer, and one time we saw a family of squirrels, and he's my best friend at school! and he saved mum, too, so i don't know why you're saying he's not allowed to eat cookies! "

" we're NOT-- " maeve falls silent, a rare occurrence, and stares at aisling in bewilderment. " saved? why? what happened? were you in danger? did you get hurt? "

" i'm fine, but he definitely earned those cookies. anyway, as we were discussing before ye decided logan is forbidden from eating cookies-- "

" he's a badass, mum, and maple cookies are NOT badass! now what happened?! "

" sorry, maple cookies aren't badass but... what, apple pie is? what's the criteria for badass baked goods? no, wait, no, i'm going off track. listen. i want to invite logan to go to the lake with us this weekend-- timothy, my love, don't try and tell me that apple pie is badass. "

" okay, first off, i wasn't gonna say it was, because that's total bullshit. if we're talking about badass pies, that crown belongs to key lime or rhubarb. secondly, i was GOING to say that there's not a soul at this table who doesn't want logan freakin' howlett to come with us to the lake. finally... do we think he likes maple cookies because he's canadian? "

" that's total insanity, love... he likes maple cookies because maple cookies are beyond badass. that's where he gets his badassery from, actually. the maple cookies. "

" mum. "

" he also gets it from doing all his homework. and folding the laundry. and telling his mother about the things that bother him... he's truly such a good role model, are you guys taking notes? "

[rainydawgradioblog]

A Treatise on Clapping Between Movements

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise to anyone that my social media feed is filled with a fair amount of classical music-related fodder. While scrolling, I’ve come across numerous videos of people complaining about clapping between movements, and it got me thinking about concert hall etiquette and the modern era. Gen Z social media pretentiousness aside, these centuries-old concert hall traditions present barriers to those trying to get into classical music, and I sense people have a reluctance to enter a world that was once restricted to the bourgeoisie. But times are changing, and as such, I wanted to write about one of those points of etiquette that has been on my mind since seeing Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G at the Seattle Symphony. So, let’s discuss why the hell we can’t clap between movements. 

I start this treatise with an anecdote. In my freshman year of college, I was thoroughly in love with classical music, but I was still what I would consider a newbie to the concert hall scene. I went to see Grieg’s piano concerto performed by Jan Lisiecki, and it was what I would describe as a mind-blowing experience. The first movement rocked my world, so it made perfect sense to clap uproariously once it ended. However, I soon noticed that it was only me and the other uninitiated few who were clapping, and I even felt a glare coming from a man on my right. A flush lept to my cheeks, and I felt that I had just committed some serious symphony sin. Later, my mom (in her infinite wisdom) explained to me that you’re not supposed to clap between movements. From that point forward, I decided I would follow concert etiquette to a T (so as to exude my high-brow, worldly nature). In following concerts, I felt a sense of cultured superiority when I (in my infinite wisdom) didn’t clap between movements, unlike the other clapping plebeians. 

I will now disclaim that I don’t actually think that those who clap between movements are plebeians, but for a long time, I did hold a strong conviction that clapping should be held until the end of a work. I’ve heard several pieces where clapping interrupts the continuity between movements, and I felt it would be better when you could sit in the intended silence. I held to this conviction even tighter when I discovered that Mendelssohn and Schumann had a distaste for applause before the conclusion of a multi-movement work. If these beloved composers didn’t want me to clap, what better reason for me to keep my hands glued to my lap? However, I soon began to loosen my grip on this etiquette as I realized it was doing nothing to encourage newcomers to support the art that I so dearly love. My judgment upon those who clap willy-nilly waned, but I myself continued to clap only at the end, until recently.

Pianist Alexandra Dariescu had her Seattle Symphony debut with her performance of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. Prior to this performance, I had never particularly enjoyed this concerto, as I found it a bit quirky for my tastes. However, Dariescu and the SSO absolutely brought it to life, so much so that I found myself breaking one of my cardinal rules of concert etiquette. At the explosive end of the first movement, it felt like my hands were attached to magnets oscillating between like and unlike poles, and before I knew it, I was clapping in between movements. Since then, I have been listening to recordings of this concerto with renewed consideration and reevaluating my strictness on clapping etiquette. This is mind-expanding stuff. 

In the end, I believe the Seattle Symphony does a great job of making the concert hall a more inviting place. There are no dress codes, and they don’t foster a culture of turning up your nose at those who are uninitiated in the classical sphere. As far as I’m concerned, you can clap whenever the music has paused, and it feels appropriate to do so.  While I will probably continue to wear nice dresses and withhold my applause for the end, I want to make it known that at Benaroya Hall, there is a general culture of coming as you are. I won’t lie to you and say that there isn’t the occasional 70-year-old who will shoot a look for clapping out of turn, but we young people are the new generation of art patrons, and the more we attend, the more things change. I don’t think there is anything inherently elitist about the enjoyment of classical music, and it is part of my mission to demystify the traditions that can seem like barriers to entry. I love this music and this environment so dearly that I will continue to do what’s in my power to encourage one and all to come and try it out.

That’s all for now, xoxo, your classical correspondent,

Addie

[ayearwithoutwater]

Fifteen.

There was a time in my life when I thought I had hazel eyes.

This was back when I was just over a decade old. Intuitively, I knew that hazel as a color leans closer to the fragmented shades of pistachio, but I was a child who wanted to feel special, and I rationalized that the complexities of hazel, not merely green, allowed for the inclusion of brown. My eyes are firmly brown (not even remotely hazel), but there was a song, you see, that I loved, that made me feel seen, and I wanted to stake my claim on that song because it was mine. It was about me and nobody else.

I'm talking, of course, about "Behind These Hazel Eyes" by Kelly Clarkson.

I spoke a little bit, in Six, about how music came into my life. I touched upon my tastes initially settling within the realm of pop and alternative rock, but I refrained from mentioning her by name because I wasn't yet ready to delve into this particular relationship of mine. Now, I think it's finally time to talk about Kelly Clarkson.

(thick_flair). "22 years ago they went searching for America's best singer and, amazingly enough, found it [on] the first try." 28 September 2024, 1:50 PM ET. Tweet.

The zeitgeist of American Idol's premiere season has since been discussed in great detail by plenty of people, so I seek only to describe what it felt like to a child witness.

I remember being surprised that my parents were watching TV, and an American reality show at that—though I didn't then possess the vernacular to describe my surprise as such, of course. We never used our TV except for KSCI's Chinese programming on channel 18, so it was fairly unusual for our household to be watching something so, well, American. I remember tuning in week after week to watch the pool of competitors winnow until, finally, only two were left: Kelly, and someone else.

I know the second finalist. His name is on the tip of my tongue, and I could Google it if I really wanted to. I know he starred in a campy musical film with her after the competition ended, and I know he went on to have a career on Broadway. I could name him—heck, I remember voting for him, for no reason other than I was a boy and he was the male finalist and boys stupidly stick together, right?—but that extra second of effort it would take to do so only illustrates the degree to which I actually cared about him. I didn't. It was always about Kelly.

Honestly, I was too young to be able to fully grasp the immensity of her talent. Years afterward, in high school, in college, and in my 20s, I would return over and over to YouTube videos of her weekly televised performances, chiefly her cover of "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" by the legendary Aretha Franklin, wherein Kelly chose to show off just a hint of her actual range. I would also return later, as a Mariah Carey superfan, to her take on Mariah's cover of "Without You" (originally by Badfinger) as well as her post-Idol rendition of "Love Takes Time" in 2003 (not 2022!) to marvel, over and over, at how America really did strike gold on the first attempt. No reality singing competition winner since has ever come close.

That fateful finale, America voted for her—even my mom voted for her—and she won. She starred in that musical film, put out her debut album, notched a couple of hit singles, and might have disappeared altogether had her follow-up not been an actual blockbuster of a smash album.

According to MySpace, one of my high school peers back then admitted her embarrassment at Breakaway being the first CD she ever bought. It was maybe the third or fifth CD that I ever purchased when I decided to properly begin my own collection of physical music (which still endures today).

The Breakaway singles—"Breakaway," "Since U Been Gone," "Because Of You," "Walk Away," and, of course, "Behind These Hazel Eyes"—were inescapably omnipresent. For a good two years, it felt like she had a hit record on power rotation at every Southern California radio station, regardless of genre, regardless of time of day. And, for an angsty pre-teen about to embark on his own prolonged journey of introspection and depression, her songs hit home.

Like so many others, I spent my early teens in a constant cycle of self-discovery. Between my own class, race, and sexuality, my conscious was in overdrive. With regard to music, then, my precocious self decided that he was only interested in sad boy alternative rock bands, but Kelly was acceptable because she wasn't like the other pop stars. She was cool. Her songs were pop, but they had killer percussions and guitars and felt viscerally raw. Her music was real.

The chorus of "Behind These Hazel Eyes" goes as such:

Here I am, once again I'm torn into pieces Can't deny it, can't pretend Just thought you were the one Broken up, deep inside But you won't get to see the tears I cry Behind these hazel eyes

Despite almost never crying regardless of how empty I felt, despite having only kind-of-sort-of dated a girl for a month and therefore having basically zero romantic experience, despite not having hazel eyes, I related so hard to that song. It was one of the first songs I ever heard via LimeWire, it was one of the first songs I ever added to my very first iPod (mini), and it was one of the very first songs I ever had on constant repeat. I remember one instance at school where my iPod was confiscated from me because I was listening to it during our homeroom hours as we (they, because I never actually spoke the words) recited the Pledge of Allegiance. I didn't have any time to be or interest in being patriotic—I was busy listening to Kelly Clarkson.

Discovering her third album, My December, was another turning point for me. Breakaway proved she had angst; My December proved she had staying power. Every song off that third album felt as though it had been crafted, bespoke, for me. I was so angry—I didn't really know why—I just felt worthless and alone, as if nobody cared about me, as if my existence meant nothing, and her music somehow made my days more bearable as I counted down to the end of high school, when I could finally escape my suburban prison and be free to be me. (I'm lying, obviously, because I did know why I was so angry—my parents were beyond negligent—but I could do nothing but acknowledge that fact; I couldn't change my material reality until I graduated.) Kelly's music spoke directly to the lightless void within me, and I became such a fan that I even followed her WordPress. I didn't have a parasocial relationship with her (because that sort of obsessiveness is weird to me), but I really, really liked her music. To this day, My December is still one of my favorite albums of all time.

In 2014, I took a job at Sony Music for a year. I worked in marketing, setting up releases for new music across all of Sony Music's roster…which included Kelly. This was right after she'd released her first Christmas album, Wrapped In Red, from which the department had plenty of marketing materials (including a Kelly Clarkson cardboard standee; see: Four’s cover image) for me to take home, and just before her next proper album, Piece By Piece. One of my close friends tipped me off that Kelly would be in the office on one of my off days; to compensate for missing out on the chance to meet my favorite singer, I handwrote a letter for my friend to pass to her, in which I explained that I'd been a fan since I was a child, that I loved My December above all of her other works, and that I wanted her to release more Mariah Carey-esque songs. (I take credit for Meaning Of Life's "Medicine," which bears a striking resemblance to Mariah's "Emotions"—thank you, Jackster!)

But, my relationship with her would soon change, perhaps most of all due to a couple of my ex-boyfriends. I'll get into that next week.