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xamag-draws · 1 year ago

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BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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rosemariiaa · 5 months ago

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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 02, 𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— synopsis: the feeling of regret

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi :), sooo don’t yell at me y’all know i’m sensitive, but yes apologies this was supposed to come out wayyy sooner but i’ve had a lot going on with my personal life i barely had time to write but luckily i finished this up! ik almost people were confused on the cliffhanger so i hope i explained it well in this chapter :) happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: hurt/comfort, guilt, angst

enjoy!!!

march 21, 2014

The cursor blinked at me, expectant. Judging.

Her name sat on the tip of my tongue. Not the one she introduced herself with, not the nickname she had tossed at me under the swing set like it was armor. Her real name. The one she’d trusted me with just days before everything shattered.

I hovered over the keyboard. How many times had I visited this account in the past two months? More than I could count. The anonymity she clung to should have been enough to keep me from connecting the dots. But the username—UnicornPuppy35—was a clue I couldn’t ignore, not after that rainy night, not after the slippers and the shirt that practically screamed it.

Azzi.

The realization should have made me stop, made me put down my phone and walk away. She didn’t know it was me. She didn’t know I was the one lurking, soaking up every word she wrote, piecing together her sadness, her anger, her loneliness. And she couldn’t find out—not like this.

If she did… God, if she ever found out, I wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d hate me more than she already did, and I couldn’t stand to see that look on her face again.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The memory of her tears still burned, sharp as glass.

flashback ⤑ february 13, 2013

The rain came down hard that night, the kind of downpour that soaked through your skin and left you raw.

I didn’t know why I left the house. Maybe it was the yelling, or maybe it was the silence that followed. Either way, I ended up at the park. The swings creaked under the weight of the wind, and the only other person there was huddled on one, head bowed as rain dripped from her curls and onto her bright pink unicorn shirt.

I almost walked away. She looked like she wanted to be alone, and honestly, so did I. But something stopped me—a tilt of her head, maybe, or the way her shoulders shuddered even as she sat still.

“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. The ground squelched under my shoes.

She looked up, startled. Her eyes, wide and brown, met my baby blues for half a second before darting away. “What do you want?”

I hesitated, shrugging. “Nothing. Just… didn’t think anyone else would be out here.”

Her laugh was bitter, like she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say anything else, just looked back down at her feet, the tips of her sneakers brushing the muddy ground.

I should’ve walked away. Instead, I sat on the swing next to her.

Over the next two weeks, those nights at the park became a ritual. When the lights in our houses went out, we met under the cover of darkness, sharing pieces of ourselves with kind of fully unraveling almost everything.

She told me about the girl at school—the one who dunked her head in the toilet and called her the f-slur. Her voice cracked when she said it, and my chest ached with something I didn’t quite understand.

“She’s just a bitch,” I said, reaching out without thinking. My hand landed on her shoulder, the fabric of her hoodie rough and wet under my palm. “You didn’t deserve that.”

She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either. “It’s not just her,” she muttered. “It’s… everyone.”

The night Azzi told me about the girl at school, something in her broke. Her voice cracked, a sharp edge slicing through the usual monotone she used when talking about her day.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath came out in shivers, her curls dripping rainwater down her back. “She just—she said I was looking at her skirt, and the next thing I know, I’m—”

Her voice wavered, and she stopped. She didn’t have to finish. I could picture it: the cold porcelain, the laughter, the humiliation.

“She has to be insecure or something,” I said quickly, fumbling for the right words. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Azzi. She’s just taking her misery out on you.”

Azzi didn’t look convinced. Her lip trembled, and she pressed her face into her knees, hiding the tears I knew were falling.

I sat there, helpless. I wasn’t good at this—comforting people, saying the right thing. But I didn’t want her to feel alone.

“You wanna egg her house?” I joked, my voice soft. “Or, I don’t know, slash her parents tires?”

She huffed a wet laugh, the sound muffled by her hoodie. “She’d probably call the cops.”

“She’s a snitch, too?” I gasped dramatically, hoping to coax another laugh out of her. “That’s it. We’re definitely egging her house.”

Azzi peeked up at me, her eyes red and puffy but lighter somehow. “You’re stupid,” she said, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

——-

A few nights later, that’s when things fell apart.

I was at the park first, waiting for Azzi, when a group of girls from my neighborhood showed up. I didn’t know them well, but they were loud and funny in that kind of way that made you want to laugh along just to fit in.

We were sitting on the picnic table, their chatter filling the silence, when one of them asked, “Hey, Paige, why do you always hang out with that girl?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Who?”

“You know, that Azzi girl,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Nobody hangs out with her.”

My stomach twisted. “Why not?”

The girl snorted. “Her mom’s, like, weird. Always with a new boyfriend or whatever. It’s embarrassing. She’s just a weirdo and looks weird.”

My jaw tightened. Before I could respond, another girl chimed in, laughing. “And her hair! It’s like, doesn’t she know what a brush is?”

The table erupted in laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. I glanced at the path leading to the swings, my heart sinking.

“Paige,” a voice said behind me.

I froze.

Azzi stood there, her face pale and her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shook her head, stepping back as if I’d physically struck her.

“Azzi, wait—” I started, scrambling off the table, but she was already turning away.

“Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Just… don’t.”

I ran after her, catching her arm as she reached the edge of the park. “Azzi, I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” she snapped, whirling around. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her voice rising in anger. “Wasn’t laughing at me? Wasn’t sitting there while they trashed me?”

“I didn’t say anything!” I protested, my chest tight.

“That’s the problem!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You just sat there, Paige. You didn’t even try to stop them, you let them say those things.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat.

“Forget it,” she muttered, yanking her arm free. She wiped at her face angrily, her curls sticking to her cheeks. “I should’ve known better.”

“Azzi, come on,” I pleaded, my voice softer now. “It’s not like that—”

“What’s it like, then?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear. I just don’t understand after all those nights I cried to you P.. how could you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. By the time I found the words, she was already gone.

present day 2014

It’s been weeks since Azzi and I started talking online, just the two of us, anonymously. We’ve gotten comfortable—well, as comfortable as we can with the fake names and hidden identities. I try not to think about the lies I’m keeping from her, but I know deep down it’s the only way I can stay connected to her. She has to trust me, or she’ll leave. And I can’t handle that. Not again.

It’s the last day of school, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement as I head to the bus. I can’t wait to get home, and send Azzi a message—anything really. I don’t care if it’s about her puppy or the weather or something ridiculous. I just want to talk to her.

I find a seat on the bus and pull out my phone. As the bus rumbles on, I open up Blogspot. I scroll through the messages Azzi and I exchanged earlier, just before school started. I can’t help but laugh at the part where she told me her dog, Stewie, peed in her shoe. That image—her tiny, brown wiener dog peeing in her brand new sneakers—was so perfectly her. Her humor, her frustration, her charm.

I giggle, but then it hits me. The guilt. It crashes over me, sudden and sharp, like a wave I didn’t see coming. My thumb freezes over the screen, hovering over the keyboard. I look at the conversation, at the funny banter we shared this morning, and my chest tightens. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.

If she knew who I really was, if she knew the truth about why I was pretending to be someone else… she would never look at me the same way again. She’d leave me. She would never trust me again.

I feel the tightness in my chest grow, and I look out the window, trying to distract myself. But it’s no use. The guilt is like a weight on my shoulders, pressing down harder the longer I sit with it. Every word I’ve typed to Azzi, every moment I’ve shared with her—it’s all a lie. And I hate myself for it.

But I can’t stop. I can’t let her go again. It pained me the first time…it won’t happen again.

I stare at the phone in my hand, biting my lip. What if she finds out? What if she figures it out before I can come clean?

What if? What if? What if?

The thought is too much. I set the phone down on my lap, staring out the window, hoping the weight in my chest will ease.

A few minutes later, my phone vibrates in my lap. A new message.

unicornpuppy35: p, i just got home and stewie’s tryna eat my shoelace again. i swear this dog’s scheming.

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. My thumb hovers over the screen again. I want to reply, want to send something funny, something comforting, but all I can think about is how this isn’t real. None of it is real.

boogers_p: obviously. stewie’s prolly like, “shoelaces are phase one. world domination’s next.”

unicornpuppy35: no fr, this little dude really thinks he runs the place.

boogers_p: i mean… does he not? u literally pay rent in shoelaces and snacks.

unicornpuppy35: and socks. don’t forget the socks. he got one of mine this morning smh.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh too loud as I typed back.

boogers_p: rip to the sock. gone but not forgotten.

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared a few times before finally settling on:

unicornpuppy35: ur so ridiculous, p. u know that?

boogers_p: i’ve heard rumors.

I paused, smirking at the screen. Then, a thought hit me, and her fingers flew over the keyboard.

boogers_p: ok, real question. what’s stewie short for? or did u just look at him and go, “yup, that’s a stewie”?

There was a pause before Azzi’s response came through.

unicornpuppy35: named him after breanna stewart.

I blinked at the screen, my smile softening. Of course she did.

boogers_p: oh damn, respect. stewie’s a legend fr but no surprise you chose her.

unicornpuppy35: p, language. and duhh, hence the name.

boogers_p: my bad my bad, but u really said, “lemme name my dog after greatness.” iconic move, puppy.

I knew the nickname would get to her. It always did. The reply came fast.

unicornpuppy35: stop calling me that!!!

boogers_p: nah. it fits too good. also, it’s cute. like u.

Shit. There was a long pause before I saw the typing bubble flicker again.

unicornpuppy35: u really know how to get on my nerves, huh?

boogers_p: talent, tbh.

Azzi’s response came slower this time:

unicornpuppy35: sometimes i wonder why i even talk to u.

Paige snorted, her thumbs moving fast.

boogers_p: cuz i’m funny. and charming. and u lowkey love me. just admit it.

The reply took a moment.

unicornpuppy35: …maybe stewie loves u. that’s as close as ur getting.

I barked out a laugh, the sound drawing a curious glance from the kid across the aisle.

boogers_p: i’ll take it. tell stewie i’m his #1 fan.

unicornpuppy35: he’ll probably steal another shoelace to celebrate.

boogers_p: a king. truly.

I stared at the screen for a second longer, my chest feeling warm and tight in a way I couldn’t even describe.

unicornpuppy35: u good, peanut? u seem kinda off lately.

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, my mouth forming into a small smile at my nickname. Azzi always asked. I didn’t know how she managed to carry so much and still notice the little things about me. God.

boogers_p: yeah, i’m straight. just tired, you know?

unicornpuppy35: don’t let it get to u p. me and stewie got ur back.

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, her reply coming slower this time.

boogers_p: thanks, puppy. u and stewie the real mvps fr.

Pup- I mean Azzi’s reply was just a string of eye-roll emojis, but I could picture the grin on her face. I wish I could just see it for myself.

boogers_p: love u too.

So much.

I send the message, knowing I can’t keep lying forever. But for now, I’ll hold on.

——-

Paige walked into her room, shutting the door with a quiet click, as if any louder might let her thoughts escape into the world. Tossing her bag into the corner, she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her clothes, leaving a trail toward the bathroom. The hot water scalded her pale skin, but she barely noticed, the familiar ache in her chest louder than the pounding spray.

When she came out, dressed in an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair sticking to her neck, she flopped onto her bed. She should sleep. She needed sleep. But instead, her hand reached for the scrapbook tucked under her nightstand.

Opening it, her heart clenched as she stared at the first photo—Azzi on the swing set, caught mid-laugh, her curls bouncing wildly as she leaned over, her dimple deepening with every giggle. Paige could still hear the sound of it, bright and free, almost as if Azzi were right there in the room with her.

The second photo wasn’t much better. Her and Azzi at the diner for her 15th birthday, Azzi’s arm slung around hers like it belonged there. Paige could almost feel the ghost of Azzi’s touch, the warmth of her hand on her arm, the way Azzi’s voice would soften when she scolded her for cussing too much.

She flipped the page closed before she started crying again. It didn’t help.

Her fingers brush over the closed scrapbook, tracing its edges. She knows it’s pathetic to feel this way, to let herself get so tangled up in someone who probably doesn’t even think about her anymore. It’s dumb, she knows that. But it doesn’t change the way her heart clenches at the thought of Azzi laughing somewhere else, with someone else, as if Paige never mattered.

Because the truth is, she’s never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this. Not about their friendship, or whatever it used to be. Friendship doesn’t even seem like the right word anymore. It feels too small, too simple for something that made her feel whole in a way nothing else ever has.

Will you miss me, Azzi? Paige swallows hard, her jaw tightening as tears blur her vision again. Will you miss what we had? Because I do. I miss you so much it hurts. It fucking hurts.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes closing as the words spilled from her heart. God I think I’d miss you even if we never met.

Paige dragged a hand over her face, trying to will the tears back, but they came anyway, hot and relentless. She clutched the scrapbook tighter to her chest. I miss you. Every day. Every second of every day. I miss you so much it’s pathetic.

She let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob halfway through. “It’s so dumb,” she muttered, shaking her head. But no matter how many times she said it, it didn’t make it any less true. It’s the realest thing she’s ever felt.

Because no one had ever made her feel like Azzi did. Not before, not since. She wasn’t sure anyone ever would.

She wipes at her face, but the tears won’t stop. Because no matter how much she misses Azzi, Paige knows it’s her fault she’s gone. She clings to the scrapbook, the pictures inside the only pieces of Azzi she has left. And as much as it hurts, she knows she deserves this. Every ache, every tear, every lonely second.

Because she let her go. And that’s something she can never take back.

——-

Azzi sat quietly in the backseat, her hands clammy as she rubbed them over her shorts, trying to calm the nerves that had been with her all morning. Her brothers had hyped her up about making the team, calling her the coach’s “princess,” but it didn’t help. She was still terrified. What if she didn’t make it? What if she wasn’t good enough?

She whispered to Stewie, who was in her lap, his small body a source of comfort. “What if I don’t make the team, huh? I know it’s stupid, but it keeps running through my mind… what if I mess up?”

Her mom glanced back at her from the front seat, a soft smile on her face. “You’ll do fine, Azzi. You always do.”

But Azzi couldn’t shake the unease, the thoughts spinning in her head as the car pulled into the gym parking lot. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her heart raced in anticipation. They arrived early, her mom wanting to meet the coaches first, so Azzi was the first one there.

She stepped out of the car, still trying to calm her breathing. As her mom led her inside, Azzi forced herself to smile and greet the coaches, though her mind was a hundred miles away. She excused herself once the introductions were made, eager to find the locker room and settle in before tryouts started.

The gym was empty when she walked in, the silence amplifying her every step. She meandered down the hall, her fingers grazing the walls as she took in the pictures of past players, their smiles frozen in time. She felt her nerves rise again, the pressure of what was to come weighing on her.

But as she rounded a corner, her body collided with something—or rather, someone.

“Sorry!” Azzi blurted, quickly stepping back. But when she looked up, her breath caught. There, standing in front of her, was Paige. She froze, heart pounding in her chest. Her mind screamed for her to move, to say something, anything, but her body just wouldn’t cooperate.

Paige stood there too, her mouth slightly open in disbelief, her eyes wide. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, almost as if the world had shifted, Paige finally spoke her name.

“Azzi?” she whispered.

Azzi’s stomach churned, but she couldn’t stop staring at her. How? How could she be here? How had she found her, of all places? This wasn’t supposed to happen, not here, not now. Not ever.

But Paige was looking at her like she hadn’t missed a beat, like the time apart hadn’t meant anything. Azzi could see the recognition in her eyes, the same as she felt in her chest.

It was instant. Her face was older now, sharper, but it was still her. Those blue eyes. The way she stood. Even the slight tilt of her head when she was unsure of herself. Azzi hadn’t expected it to hit her this hard.

A year ago, she swore she’d move on. Swore that she’d forget what Paige meant to her. But now, standing here, all she felt was the sharp twist of memory and the burn of anger.

How could she not recognize her? Paige had been the first person to make her feel seen, to make her feel like she mattered. But she had also been the first person to hurt her more than anyone else had. Azzi couldn’t forget that. Not the way she laughed with her, not the way she’d come after her with apologies she could never quite believe.

Azzi had convinced herself she was past it. Past Paige. But now, here she was, staring at her as if nothing had changed. It was too much, too fast. Does she really think I’ve forgotten?

Paige stepped forward, her movements tentative, unsure. Azzi almost wanted to take a step back, to run, but she couldn’t move. She stood there, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing in on her.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice almost hesitant.

Azzi blinked, her heart racing. She forced herself to act like she didn’t know her, even though everything inside her screamed that she did. “Sorry,” Azzi said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “Do I know you?”

——-

rosie’s note: well..yeah!

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @imaginespazzi @pazzilover101 @makethemhoesmad @pboogerswbb @kmoneymartini @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @ashortyluvsports

#asks ❣︎#pazzi #halfway strangers fic #fic talk #paige x azzi #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆

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cloudcountry · 9 months ago

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1ST PRIZE WINNER, POP-SPARKLE! (@pop-sparkle)

— IDIA GHOSTS YOU ON YOUR FIRST DATE...OR DOES HE? (2013 words)

You try not to look too anxious as you chew on your bottom lip, eyes darting to each person as they walk past the cat cafe you are currently waiting in front of. Your first date with Idia Shroud had you pacing around your room hours before, picking out the perfect outfit and accessories that didn’t seem like too little or too much effort. You’d asked Grim a million times (much to his annoyance) if you looked okay, and had checked the mirror over and over to make sure nothing was stuck in your teeth and not a hair was out of place. You wanted to look perfect for him, you wanted to make him stumble over his words and feel that thrill of being so well put together it made his heart tremble.

You’d even tried to coordinate your outfit to Ignihyde’s aesthetic since you didn’t know Idia’s personal tastes yet. The plan was to ask him on the date what kind of clothes he liked, just so you could tailor some matching outfits for the two of you or make a cute Twisterest board of your aesthetics and how they’d play off of each other.

The plan was not to be waiting in front of the cat cafe for about thirty minutes now with no sign of your date, and all the giddy excitement you felt slowly evaporating into pure panic.

Had you done something wrong? You knew Idia was delicate socially but you tried not to treat him as such, knowing all too well how condescending that could be, but maybe you were too forward? Did you come off as desperate and he secretly didn’t want to come at all? Was he disgusted by you now? Did he just ghost you and intended to never talk to you again? Did Idia wish he never agreed in the first place? Did he forget, completely unbothered by your excitement, or got too wrapped up in his games to think of you?

You unlock your phone and scroll through you and Idia’s past conversations for any signs you may have missed that he wasn’t interested. He seemed enthusiastic enough, replying with longer looooools and kitty faces such as :3, but if anything that only made your current situation all the more confusing.

to: gloomurai ... 11:55am

-> hey idia! i’m at the cafe!! super excited to see you C:

to: gloomurai ... 12:10pm

-> hihi!! are you here yet? i can’t see you with all these people around lol

to: gloomurai ... 12:25am

-> ...idia? are you even here at all?

You read the last message over and over again, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over your eyelids. It was so jarring to suddenly be given the cold shoulder like this when he’d been so receptive before. You should just take the L, as Idia would say, and leave. It wasn’t like he was showing up anytime soon.

At this point, him showing up wasn’t even needed. You just wanted to go back to campus, ask him what the hell was going on, and maybe get some ice cream and cry over your amazing outfit if the conversation went south.

You do the walk of shame all the way up to the front gates of Night Raven, pushing the gates open with the strongest push you can muster (which comes off as very weak and half hearted.) For once, you look like the wet cat in your relationship, and at least that thought makes you chuckle when you feel like your world is falling apart.

You find your way to the hall of mirrors and go straight to Ignihyde dorm, summoning all of your courage as you step through the mirror. You don’t know where Idia is going to be, but knowing what you know of him now, there’s no way he’s anywhere but his dorm.

(You push down any thought that suggests he’s somewhere else just to get away from you—you won’t get anywhere thinking about things you don’t know to be true for sure yet. You know Idia is usually in his room, so that is where you’ll look first.)

When you make it to his room, it’s almost like you’re paralyzed with fear. You’ve never really been in a situation like this before—you have no idea if this is the right thing to do or not. Is this creepy? Are you stepping wildly out of line?

You almost chicken out, but then the door opens.

Ortho stands there, looking all too happy to see you.

You forgot he could read vital signs—he probably read your heart beat outside of Idia’s door and got concerned at its elevated rate.

“What are you standing outside for? Come on in!” he greets you cheerfully, like this whole fiasco didn’t just happen.

And, you suppose, was still happening.

You stumble dumbly into the room at his insistence, eyes locking with Idia’s all too soon. He looks ashamed, droopy flames flickering slowly in the darkness of his room. Seeing him in such a state proves to you that he didn’t forget—he looks so guilty, there’s no way he didn’t opt not to go of his own free will.

He chose to ghost you.

You bite your bottom lip, brow furrowing as you choke back the tears. It’s hard when you feel that telltale ball in the back of your throat that makes it just a little too hard to breathe, and you know if you start talking now you’re surely going to mess it all up and start sobbing in front of him. You clutch the fabric of your top and hope you don’t look as pathetic as you feel.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way.

“Why are you crying?” Ortho asks softly, cold metal hands touching your face gently.

He starts listing off a bunch of vital signs that indicate that you’re upset, and Idia makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a wounded puppy.

Ortho looks between the two of you and makes the executive decision to drag his brother out of his bed, forcing him to stumble his way over you with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen.

“Make sure you have a productive conversation!” Ortho cheers, exiting the room quicker than you could blink.

The door whirs shut behind him. Idia is shrinking in on himself more than usual, and you’re certain that if you don’t get your shit together first he’ll start breaking down.

“So Idia,” you cringe at how your voice breaks but keep going, “What happened?”

Silence.

“With the date, I mean.” you prompt.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbles, and while it sounds halfhearted your ears have been trained to pick up on the inflections in his voice that indicate otherwise.

He’s crushed.

“That doesn't answer my question...why didn't you show? Did something happen?” you ask, keeping your tone as level and gentle as you possibly can even though you feel like crying.

“Well, uh, nothing really.” he mumbles, and he brings his hand up to grasp at his arm like he always does when he's nervous, “It's just that...the hit boxes on this quest were a little too finicky and I didn't know if I'd even be able to pull an SSR character like you. So, uh, I panicked and ditched the whole quest. A total botched mission. And I understand if you hate me now for being the worst player two ever, you deserve someone who would beat the final boss with you, not lose on the first one.”

So in short...Idia was so nervous he didn't show up?

You breathe a sigh of relief, all of your overthinking vanishing into thin air. He looks confused when you smile at him, clearly expecting an angry outburst or a disgusted snarl but instead you press a hand to your chest and thank him profusely.

“Um...lol, why are you thanking me?” he mutters, brow furrowing as he shifts his gaze to the ground, “I, like, totally ruined everything. You were willing to give me your time and I threw it away like level one materials you get when you've beat the game. I'm totally unworthy. My gacha luck should be at zero rn tbh.”

“Idia, are you kidding me? I thought my luck was at zero! I'm so glad I hit pity.” you huff, hurriedly wiping the tears from your eyes, “Listen, when I showed up and didn't see you there, I didn't feel joy or relief or anything close. I felt scared and anxious because I was worried I upset you. I didn't want you to think I was too desperate or intense. I just wanted to have fun with you. I wanted to spend some time with the guy I like more than anyone else.”

Idia shuffles his feet, the tips of his hair turning pink. You can feel your face heating up too, but you do nothing to hide your wobbly, flustered smile or the way he makes you feel.

He needs to see it if this conversation is going to go anywhere productive.

“Sorry, um, this is just...so new to me. I mean, you're excited to do things with me? You...you dressed up for me?” he swallows thickly, eyes catching on your outfit before flicking back up to your face.

You feel your stomach jolt at his gaze — it's a warm feeling, definitely not unwelcome. You'd almost forgotten how much effort you put into your outfit this morning. You're so glad he likes it. Just the approval alone makes the whole experience worth it.

“Get used to it.” you beam, “I want to do lots of things with you.”

He blushes, pink hair fanning out behind him like an angel’s wings. You're certainly looking at him like he is one, if the way he pulls his hood over his head and tries to cover as much of his face as possible is any indication.

You wish he wouldn’t, you love looking at his face, but you figure that’s something you can get him more comfortable with another day.

“I would also really like a second date. If Idia Shroud would be up for it, of course.” you say, a little softer, a little gentler, just enough to coax him from his hoodie.

“Um. I think it'd still be our first date. I don't want that to count.” he exhales sharply, turning away from you again.

Even after your talk, he's still embarrassed. He's still the same old Idia.

“Okay. Whatever you want, Idia.” you hum, happy that this situation wasn't at all what you thought it was and even happier that he suggested something so cute.

Oh, how did no one see his charm as deeply as you did? Idia was such a kind, warm soul—as warm as the flames cascading down his head, flickering pink as he stares at you.

He's still nervous, but so are you, the both of you shuffling your feet and exchanging shy glances. You think to suggest starting off your first date by gaming, a suggestion that wins you ten love points on his intimacy meter as he beams and scrambles to pick one out.

He asks you a million questions about what style of games you prefer and if a certain variable matters to you in your gaming experience. He digs deep in his collection, tossing away any single player games he finds and it makes your soul sing because wow, he wants to play with you. It’s the obvious choice—after all, this is a date now, but it still tastes sweet on your tongue as you whisper his name.

“I’ll like any game you pick out.” you offer.

“It can’t be any game for you. It has to be perfect.” he huffs, not even turning back to look at you.

Dedicated. Passionate. Hardheaded and laser focused. This is the Idia you fell in love with.

As you sit down next to him and riffle through his collection with him, you can’t help but feel so, so happy that you did.

#auburn's summer raffle <3 #auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud fluff #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #twisted wonderland fluff #gn reader

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allthesethingswillendsoon · 4 months ago

Text

Long, long time

CHAPTER THREE: Just before everything changes

SUMMARY: Elementary school is over, forever, and the girls are both excited and terrified at what the future looks like. They’re both coming to terms with growing up and what they have to give up in order to move forward.

NOTE: I wrote this one in a much more timely manner than the last one. I also think this one is infinitely better than the other two, and it's almost double the length, kind of. This one is definitely dialogue heavy, specifically in the last bit, so if you don't like that then sorry. I think the next one will be more internal monologue stuff as opposed to real life events. Also I think I might have messed up the dates a bit because I'm not from America so I don't fully understand the school system and how old everyone is, so I'll probably go back later and amend any issues. But I'm really not sure how I managed to mess it up because I made a timeline and everything, but whatever, what can you do? Once again thanks for the support :)

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Warnings: Mentions of parent leaving, angst, periods (?) 5.3k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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27th of MAY, 2013

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

Elementary school, it had come to an end almost as quickly as it had begun.The years had passed mostly without incident, Paige and Azzi growing impossibly closer with each day that passed.

So, to celebrate the end of the school year, the Fudds and the Bueckers had decided to spend the night in their local diner.

It was a small little place, tucked away next to the more industrial area of town. Bob always brought his own homemade food to work, but the young men that he employed were frequent customers of the little spot, being fans of the cheap, filling meals, or the pretty, young waitresses, or both in some cases.

Tying with Applebees, the diner was pretty much the nicest place to eat in town. So, everytime anything happened that was worth celebrating, the Bueckers-Fudd clan would find themselves shoved into their favourite circular booth in the back corner. Though they would never admit it, the booth was much too small for the seven occupants, four of which were growing at an alarmingly fast rate. But nonetheless, they squashed themselves in, bodies pressed tightly together, yet not tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Tim called over their favourite waitress, Cathy, a no-nonsense southern lady, who miraculously appeared to be both twenty and sixty at the same time. Her painted red lips twisted into a smile at the sight of her favourite customers, “Well hello, what can I get y’all?” Every time it was the same thing, her southern drawl filled with nothing but warmth.

The second the words left her mouth a chorus of young voices sounded out across the table, all fighting for their voice to be the loudest.

“Ummm can I get the pancakes!”

“I’ll have the nuggets, and a strawberry soda please.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I’ll have the fried eggs and bacon!”

“Cherry pie for me please, lots of ice cream on the side too.”

Perhaps an amateur waitress would’ve been overwhelmed by the barrage of requests, but this certainly was not Cathy’s first rodeo, and she wrote them all down with ease. The taking of their order was more of a formality than anything, the two families had slid into that booth more times than any of them could count, and ordered the exact same thing every time. The day Tim Fudd ordered anything other than the beef burger with a side of pickles would be the same day that pigs flew.

“Alrighty folks, that’ll be out in a few!” She said with a smile as she walked off to put the order through.

It only took seconds after she left before the complaining had already started, “I’m hungryyyyy!” Jose groaned.

“That’s why we just ordered, you stupid poop face.” Jon had retorted, punctuating his statement with a knock to Jose’s head.

“Watch it boys.” Tim had warned, purposefully ignoring the smug smile Jose gave to his brother next to him as he elbowed him in the ribs.

The conversation flowed easily, the adults fell into easy conversation, Paige and Azzi talking about whatever was piquing their interest at the moment, and the two brothers roughhousing just subtly enough that they wouldn’t get in trouble for it.

When the food came out the table fell into a comfortable silence as the kids in particular scoffed their meals down like they had been starved of all food for the past five centuries. Once their appetites had been satiated, and they had entered a mild food coma, Katie spoke to the girls, “So, our big elementary school graduates, do you guys know what you want to do after high school?”

“Yeah, same as always, I’m gonna work with dad.” Paige responded, it was a given at that point, the dream she had had since childhood was not changing anytime soon.

Azzi, however, was a different story, she had always been indecisive, bouncing from one career aspiration to the next, consistently changing her favourite song. There were a lot of things she was unsure on, but there were also some things she was dead set on. She knew her favourite colour was pink, and that a close second was rainbow (Which was a real colour if you asked her). She knew Olaf was the best character of all time, and that unicorns were the best animal, even if there was no ‘proof’ that they were real. But most importantly, she knew her best friend was Paige Bueckers - a fact that Paige took great pride in, considering Azzi’s indecisive nature.

That very trait was what made her statement so outlandish, “You guys know what I wanna do, it’s been the same for like forever.” She had said it with such confidence, that for a moment the table went silent, guilt washing over them at not remembering her apparent, long time aspiration.

That was until Jon burst out with laughter, the rest of the table following suit as the absurdity of the young girl’s comment settled over the table.

“What?” Azzi pouted, eyes darting from person to person as they laughed hysterically at her. Even Bob, who was never one to poke fun at someone, was chuckling lightly.

“You change your mind, like, every week hon.” Katie explained, still slightly breathless from her laughing fit.

“No I don’t!” She tried to defend herself, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up indignantly.

“You do.” Jon stated matter-of-factly.

The young girl was growing frantic, confused as to why no one was refuting the absolutely insane claim. But surely her best friend of many years would defend her, right?, “Paige? back me up!” She begged, eyes boring into Paige, trying to gain her attention.

Paige avoided her pleading gaze, trying to keep a neutral expression, but no one missed the little smirk that appeared on her face, “Sorry Az, they’re right.”

Feeling as if she had been stripped of her dignity, she continued with a huff, “Well I want to be a teacher, like I said on Heroes day.”

“Like Miss Honey.” Jose chuckled.

“Yes. Like Miss Honey.” She hissed back.

“Literally the week after that you went on and on about how you wished you would’ve been an astronaut instead.” Tim reminded her, putting a sour expression on her face as she realised she had been proved to be quite the undecided personality.

“Whatever!” Azzi snipped. Her annoyed facade only lasted a few moments before her conversation with Paige started up again.

Once again they settled into their usual chatter, laughter bouncing off the walls of the slowly-emptying diner. Sat there in the squishy booth, a feeling of familiar contentment washed over the group, a warm glow erupting in each person’s chest. From the outside eye they may not have looked like a traditional family, but they knew in their hearts that they were the truest family out there, and that was what really mattered.

It was time for close, Cathy always let them stay right up till the end of the night. She’d start the closing clean and that was their sign that it was time to wrap it up. As she wiped down the tables and mopped the floors with a practiced ease, the group cleared their table and brought their plates and scraps up to the kitchen window where they passed it off to the dishboy with a cheery “Have a good night!”.

When it came to the bill, there was always bickering between Bob and the Fudds. They had been so many times it was impossible to keep track of who paid last, yet no matter who won the squabble and got to put their card down, Cathy was sure to get a generous tip.

They spilled out onto the street, both dads slightly fumbled as they searched for their car keys under the dim light of the street lamps that lined the neighborhood.

As they sat on the curb outside the diner Paige and Azzi made a promise.

“This is gonna be our best summer yet.” Paige assured Azzi.

“Promise?” The curly-haired girl questioned, bringing her pinky finger out to the space between them.

Intertwining her pinky with Azzi’s, the blonde spoke again, “Promise.”

—------------------------

SUMMER, 2013

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

True to their promises, the summer before sixth grade had been the best of Paige and Azzi’s life.

Their parents had let them ride around on their bikes from sun up to just after sun down, and the girls were sure to make every minute of glorious, sweaty summer freedom count. They spent days upon days riding around aimlessly, going from street to street, ignoring the burning in their legs and the summer heat on their faces.

It was a kind of freedom they’d never felt before. A glorious, glowing kind that Azzi was sure to dangle in front of her brothers mockingly. But it was also the kind that felt like giving up their childhood at the same time. They had more responsibilities, both girls had their own set of house keys, a trust bestowed onto them by their parents that sent shivers down their spine at the thought of the sheer importance the keys held.

Change felt imminent. A deep-rooted anxiety that everything would be changing soon settled into the back of each girl’s mind. Perhaps they knew the other felt the same fears, perhaps they didn’t know. There truly was no way of knowing if the worries plaguing the two were shared, as both refused to speak them aloud, not wanting to waste breath on their concerns, in case doing so actually did bring them to life.

Yet at that same time, it was summer, and if there really was some ‘big-bad’ lurking around the corner, then the least they could do is enjoy the good times while they lasted, right?

One particularly boiling day, the pair rode to the lake on the outskirts of town and spent all day skipping rocks and swimming in the blue water to escape the temperature. Time was a thing of the past on that day, any thoughts of returning home before dark absent from the girl’s minds, fully focussing on savouring every minute of fun together. Only when the sun began to set, bright blue skies giving way to softer, orange-pink hues, did they realise they were a thirty minute bike ride away from home, and minutes away from being past curfew.

Scrambling onto their bikes like madwomen, they cycled faster than anyone had ever cycled before, turning the thirty minute bike ride into a twenty minute one. That feat, however, did not matter to either girl’s parents as they returned to their respective houses after their curfews.

For the longest week of their life, they had both been banned from riding their bikes, stuck in their houses, or in the very few places they could be bothered to walk to. Despite the punishment they were still able to do whatever they wanted, opting to watch disney movies all day under ceiling fans with ice blocks galore waiting for them in the freezer.

Days rolled into nights which rolled into an endless slew of days and nights, practically each minute spent together, living inside each other’s skin. It was a dream. Getting to spend every waking second of the day just a walk across the street away.

It hadn’t all been fun though, Bob had insisted on going ‘home’ to visit their family in Minnesota. Paige thought it was silly, a sentiment she shared with Azzi, who mainly just wished that her best friend could stay with her the whole summer.

“It’s just stupid really. I mean I don’t even know them! The most I talk to them is when we call on Christmas and on birthdays!” The older girl had complained as she had stomped around her bedroom, chucking as many clothes as she thought were suitable for a five day trip to Minnesota.

“Yeah, I agree, your dad should just let you stay with me… Or let me come with you!” Azzi had replied from her spot splayed out on Paige’s single bed.

“That’s such a good idea, I’ll ask dad about both!” Paige had grinned back, sure that their plans would be approved by her dad.

Unfortunately for the girls, Bob had said no to both options with a disbelieving laugh that Paige had taken great offense to. So, for the first time ever the two were away from one another for more than three days, it was the longest they had ever been apart. Azzi complained to her family day after day in her best friend’s absence, and Paige spent the whole car ride to Minnesota groaning in pain, stating that she was “fading away” the further she got from Azzi.

Miraculously, both girls somehow managed to survive the five torturous days spent states apart, but due to the holes in their hearts that had formed in each other’s absences, they simply had to have a five day long sleepover to make up for the lost time, alternating houses each night.

—------------------------

3rd of SEPTEMBER, 2013

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

It was the night before, the night before the first day of middle school. The girls had begged their parents to let them have a sleepover the actual night before, but they had been quick to shut the idea down, knowing that either the pre-school nerves, or each other, or both would keep them up into the early morning hours, leading to two sleep-deprived pre-teens.

So. begrudgingly, they had settled on the night before, the night before.

Paige had spent all day school shopping with her dad, and was feeling like her head might fall off if she had to spend another minute in the uncomfortably bright changing rooms of a JC Penny or Old Navy shoving herself into a sweater near-identical to the past twenty she’d tried on.

Yet somehow, the worst part of all was the stationary shopping. Being a single dad meant Bob had obviously taken on the role of both parents. So, that meant that school supply shopping was all on him, and he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Paige had the exact brand and make of each item listed on the school list. A lesson he had learnt when he had sent her to the first grade with an arsenal of black and blue pens, and not a single coloured pencil in sight, having neglected to look at the school issued list. It had ended in a phone call home and a red-faced Bob scrambling to find lead pencil in the ruins of the post-back-to-school-sale Walmart.

Although Paige appreciated her dad’s commitment to the quality and uniformity of her educational utensils, it did turn him into quite the Karen. Every single time he couldn’t find the exact item they were looking for he would call over a (likely underpaid) teenage worker, who really couldn’t care less, and near-force them to scour every inch of the store in search of the desired item. They’d always been able to find whatever it was, and Paige lived in fear for what would happen the day an item was out of stock, but that was a problem for future Paige.

For some reason, God decided Paige hadn’t suffered enough in one day, and sent every school parent and every colleague and every person Bob or Paige had ever met was at the mall on that very day. It felt impossible to move more than twenty feet without running into a chatty, well-intentioned acquaintance, who just happened to feel like spending, at minimum, five minutes saying things like, “Wow! How tall are you now Paige! I remember when you could fit in my arms” or another classic “Middle school, really? You’ll be picking a college before you know it!”. They were nothing but nice to her, so she was nothing but nice in return, which really just made the whole situation worse because it made them think she really did want to talk to them about their cousin’s neighbour’s son who’s “Just around your age!”

Despite the trials and tribulations of her day, the light at the end of the tunnel remained, Azzi (also her dad let her get a hot pretzel before they left which was really nice).

On the other hand, Azzi was lucky enough to have gone school shopping in the five gruelling days that Paige was away. Stocking up on pens and books and shirts and socks was a pain to do for one kid, but to do it for three? Safe to say, Bob was sure to always commend Tim and Katie on their valiant efforts of rounding up the kids for school shopping.

So instead of being soft-tortured in the mall, she had been run ragged by her brothers. They had so cruelly forced her to run around under the blaring summer sun through the sprinklers for hours and hours. They had played a variety of games, everything from flag football to soccer to basketball. Even games you’d think you couldn’t play with only three people they were able to do.

She was nearing the age where she would start to feign annoyance at her brother’s constant attempts to gain her attention, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Though her parents knew her well, and predicted that even when she went through her phase of faux-annoyance she would likely fail to avoid spending time with her family, after all she was definitely a homebody at heart.

Azzi’s only refuge from the summer heat had come in the form of lunchtime, when she was able to go inside and chow down on hot dogs and homemade lemonade. She reapplied her sunscreen diligently, trying her hardest not to miss a spot, wanting to avoid the sting that came along with a sunburn.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, by the end of the day her skin was pinking, feeling just raw enough to make her clothes feel like fire on her skin.

All of Azzi’s sunburnt discomfort, and Paige’s shopping-induced weariness faded when Paige and Bob knocked on the Fudd family door.

The two girls ran into each other’s arms as if they had been reunited after years, not after the actual, mere twenty-four hours they had spent away from one another.

After a bit of adult chatter, Bob took his exit, wrapping Paige in a bear hug before he headed home for the night.

Following a classic Fudd Saturday night meal of spag-bowl and garlic bread, the girls had changed into their pajamas and were readying themselves for bed.

Paige had gone to the bathroom, double checking her bladder really was empty, that way she wouldn’t be woken up needing to pee, definitely not because she was scared to make the walk across the hall to the bathroom in the darkness.

Azzi was sitting at her desk, fixing up her hair when she heard her name being called softly yet urgently from the bathroom.

“Az! Azzi! Azzi!” Paige’s frantic whispers were growing more and more desperate. The older girl diverting from her relatively chill demeanour sent alarm bells to Azzi’s mind.

She nearly sprinted to the bathroom door where Paige’s head was sticking out.

“What’s wrong Paige? Tell me? What happened?” From all that Azzi could see of Paige, the only thing concerning was the troubled look on her face.

“Can you get your mom Az, please?” Paige pleaded, her voice wobbled almost inconceivably, but Azzi caught it.

“C’mon Paige, I can’t see anything wrong. It can’t be that bad, seriously, just show me.”, bringing her hand up to the door to push through.

“NO!” Paige yelled, swatting Azzi’s hand away. She seemed to shock herself more than Azzi with her sudden outburst.

She took a deep breath and started over, “Sorry Az.” She paused again, as if trying to hype herself up before continuing, “I think I got… I think… I think I got my y’know…”

Azzi thinks, her brows furrowing as she tried to think of what Paige was talking about.

“You got your what?” She questioned, after a moment of contemplation.

“My period.” The words that had left Paige’s mouth stunned Azzi, she had suddenly lost her ability to speak, which only distressed Paige further.

“Earth to Azzi?” Paige said, waving her hands in front of Azzi’s face.

Snapped back to reality, but still in a bit of a daze, she responded, “Yeah?”

“So can you get your mom now please?” Paige half-begged, the conversation having been drawn out far longer than she had anticipated.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, one second.” Azzi mumbled as she walked off to her parent’s room.

A moment passed before she came back with her mom, the bathroom door now shut, Paige having bunkered herself down inside.

Katie motioned for Azzi to go, who protested, really thinking she could be of help, but her mom shut that down, staring her down till she stomped back to her room.

Knocking softly on the door, she whispered, “Paige honey, it’s Katie, can you let me in please hon?”

A minute of silence passed, punctuated by the light sound of sniffling and shuffling before the door creaked open, a red-rimmed-eyed Paige standing before Katie.

“Oh honey.” Katie soothed before wrapping Paige into a tight, bear hug.

Azzi listened from behind her door, and despite how her heart ached hearing her best friend in distress, it also made her heart beam to know that she was like family not only to herself, but to her mom, and her dad, and her brothers.

Katie was a great woman, and Paige knew she saw her as an almost second daughter. Yet, as she sat on the toilet lid, watching in half-confusion, half-horror as the older woman explained periods and uteruses and pads to her, she couldn’t help the overwhelming wave of sadness that washed over her.

Paige didn’t have much experience with having a mom, but she knew that getting your period was obviously something that you were meant to tell your mom, and not your best friend’s mom. She couldn’t help but feel like a core, mother-daughter bonding moment had been stolen from her, because it had.

Was it the kind of thing where you ate chocolates together and cried? Or did you watch some old rom-com together? Paige’s nan, or rather her mom’s mom, loved ‘Sixteen Candles’ and said she and Amy used to watch it at least once every year. If her mom was there would they have eaten chocolate and ice cream and watched ‘Sixteen Candles’ and cried together?

It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have a mom that cared enough to stick around. But as Katie walked her into Azzi’s room, the younger girl rushed up to them and pulled them into a tight group hug.

She didn’t know what it was like to have a mom, but in that moment she remembered that she did know what it was like to have people choose to unconditionally love her, and suddenly the things she didn’t have mattered a little less.

—------------------------

They had decided to hop into bed early, considering the eventful night Paige had had, and the tiring days both girls had experienced.

From her bed Azzi broke the comfortable silence with a question that had been playing on her mind since she had been sent to wait in her room for Paige, “Soooo, how does it feel to be a woman now?”

There was a pause as Paige took a moment to think, before her voice sounded out from her place on the mattress on the floor, “Uh… I don’t know… it feels the same to be honest.”

Paige’s response slightly shocked Azzi, who had been convinced that getting your period turned you into a fully new person, “Really? I’m kinda scared to get my period.”

“It’s fine Az, I was just being a baby, you don’t have to worry. Besides, your mom will be there to help.” Paige explained. Though she couldn’t see her face, Azzi was sure that her best friend had her signature light pink dusting of blush across her face as she thought back to her little outburst in the bathroom earlier.

“Yeah, she will be,” Azzi nodded, before she thought out loud, “I wonder how many girls in our grade have gotten theirs over the summer, probably lots.”

“Mmm, maybe, no way to know really.”

“I guess. It’s weird though, don’t you think? Just like growing up, the whole idea of it.”

Paige hummed in agreement, “I think it’s just a part of life. You can’t stop time. If I could, I'd probably just stay here forever.”

Azzi thought of Paige's statement, before she realised a fatal flaw to the plan, “But then you’d have to be on your period forever.”

“I wouldn’t mind though, cause I’d get to be with you forever”

The earnest words brought a soft smile to the young girl’s face. It could be easy to forget how sentimental Paige could be. She was really similar to her dad, in the way she had a seemingly tough exterior, when in reality she was one of the most emotionally intelligent, down-to-Earth people Azzi knew.

Instead of saying something of equal sentimentality, she opted for something a little more light-hearted, “Such a sap for me P.”

Paige rolled her eyes with such intensity it was almost audible, if that were even possible, “Nevermind I change my mind.”

Azzi laughed lightly at Paige’s response, “Noooooo, stop. I’d stay here forever too.”

Instead of responding, they giggled a little, before they fell into a comfortable silence, both girls staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake them when Azzi spoke quietly, “Do you think we’re ever gonna look back on this moment when we’re older and wish we could go back?”

“Maybe, everything is pretty good right now.” Paige whispered back after a moment of contemplation.

The younger girl hums in agreement, “Yeah, everything is great.” She went silent for a moment, before she added, “I hope things are always this good between us.”

Azzi’s words shocked Paige, taking her aback, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they be?”

Frowning, she explained, “I don’t know… just… sometimes people grow up and they just don’t like each other that much anymore. And like spending time together feels like a chore and stuff. And then they either stay and make each other miserable, or just leave and be miserable separately.”

Paige’s silence consumed the room for such a long time that Azzi had to turn to look down at her and check if she was awake. Her breath was soft, and Azzi could see the glow in the dark stars reflecting in Paige’s eyes as she contemplated her statement.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she asked, “Do you think that’s how my mom felt about my dad? Do… Do you think that’s how my mom felt about me?”

The silence returned after Paige’s statement, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air as Azzi struggled to find a way to explain to her best friend that she couldn’t understand why anyone would ever leave her.

“What? No, of course not, why would you say that?” When Azzi had said what she did, she hadn’t realised Paige would think about it like that, but then again, how else would she think about it?

The realisation that she had caused Paige to think her mom had grown tired of her made Azzi feel like she was going to throw up, like her world had come crashing down around her.

“Well, why else do people leave? If we’re hanging out and we’re having a good time together, I’m not just gonna pack up my stuff when you turn away and leave without saying anything. People don’t leave when they’re having a good time.” Her breath catching on the last few words, “When they love the people they’re with.”

Paige wasn’t sure how long she had been holding her tears in, all she knew was that they had started to trickle down her face and she hated it and wished they would stop.

Azzi felt severely out of her depth, unsure how to soothe the older girl into understanding that for whatever reason her mom left, it was no fault of her own. “I don’t know… I think it’s more complicated than that when you grow up. Like all the issues that we think matter now aren’t gonna matter anymore, and we’ll be thinking about things like taxes and, like jury duty I guess. Like adults are just weird, big kids… And I have no idea why your mom left, but what I do know is that it’s not your dad’s fault or your fault. It’s her fault because she’s missing out on being around you, because you’re awesome, you’re the best person I know. And for what it’s worth you’ll always have me, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, you’re stuck with me for a long time Paigey.”

Sometime during Azzi’s little speech, Paige had begun to hyperventilate, full-body sobs wracking her skinny frame as she tried to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry Az, I don’t know why I’m so upset.” Paige managed to push the words out, gulping big gasps of air between each word.

“It’s okay Paigey, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Azzi breathed out into the fresh night air.

For what seemed like the millionth time that evening, the room fell silent, bar Paige’s steady stream of sniffling and sobbing. In the darkness Azzi shuffled off her bed and into Paige’s mattress, slipping herself under the doona.

The older girl kept her back turned to Azzi, who dragged her fingertips soothingly along Paige’s arms. They stayed like that for a moment, before Paige turned over, tucking her head into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Chest to chest, they were so close Azzi could feel the heaving breaths that Paige was taking as she cried into the neckline of her shirt.

“I love you Paige, You’ll always have me, no matter what.”

She didn’t hear her best friend’s response, only felt the muffled vibration of words against her shoulder and Paige’s hand grabbing onto her own, interlocking their fingers.

Azzi drew stars and hearts and “I love you”s onto Paige’s back, not stopping till the blonde’s staggered breathing gave way to the soft snoring of her sleep. Only then did she let herself drift off into the comfort of sleep.

—------------------------

5th of SEPTEMBER, 2013

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

The moment had finally arrived. There it was right before their very eyes, Middle school.

The wide brick building stood tall and imposing in front of them. Both girls couldn’t help the wild thrashing of their hearts as anxiety began to flood their systems at the prospect of middle school.

Their parents had left them only a minute prior, and they had been firmly planted in the same spot they had been before they left.

As the pre-warning bell went off, Paige glanced down at her purple, digital wristwatch, before she looked back up at Azzi.

“I think we need to go in now.” She spoke quietly, her worries evident in both her face and her voice.

“Okay, yeah. We’ve got this.” Azzi responded, unsure as to whether her words were intended to soothe herself, or Paige, or both.

“Yeah, we’ve got this, together.” Paige assured, pulling Azzi’s equally sweaty palm into her own.

“Together.” Azzi said with a squeeze.

With that they were off.

As they walked through the doors of Oakridge Middle School, it felt as if the world shifted right beneath their feet. From then on everything would be different, friendships would bloom and wither, personalities would change for the better and the worse. Yet as they stepped into their future, hand and hand, it seemed just a little less scary.

—------------------------

NOTE: Hope everyone likes this one, I definitely like it way more than the first two. Next one will be out probably in a bit over a week I think, if all goes according to plan.

Thanks again for reading :)

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige buckets #azzi fudd fic #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #uconnwbb #wcbb #uconn huskies #lesbian

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drvscarlett · 10 months ago

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About You Pt 11

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series

A/N: well, well, well.... anyone wants a drink? let me know your thoughts (and prayers) for this one

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444 @mploopssek @snakelore @toldyouitwasamelodrama @lordpercevalcharles

2013, Shanghai International Circuit

Everyone is staring at Sebastian.

It wasn't uncommon for Sebastian to be stared upon when he enters the track. He was the reigning champion so he has been used being the center of attention. He has been looked at by people before but this time it feels very different. A hint of judgement and anger was communicated by their gazes so if looks could kill then he would be seven feet under the ground now.

"It has been two weeks, why are people not getting over it"Sebastian grumbles.

Britta, who was walking alongside him, shakes her head. Sebastian seems to forget about the fighting words that he stated in an interview not so long ago.

"They felt like you are being arrogant with the whole I don't apologize for winning statement Seb"Britta reminded.

His bad, Sebastian admits.

Maybe its a mix of pride and ego that's why he callously stated those words. But Sebastian stands firm on that because he had a chance and he simply seized it. If he was born to concede then maybe he should look for other careers instead of being a Formula 1 driver.

"You have to be in a good mood today" Britta states "You have some interviews and conferences lined up"

"Who's on it?"

"You are partnered with Bianchi, Ricciardo, Bottas, and Alonso"

It was far from his usual pairings of his grid friends. Sebastian thinks Britta has a hand on this in order to lessen the fanfare. And besides, Alonso has his fair shares of controversy, surely he would understand

A slight scoff from a passerby brought him out of his thoughts. The stranger bumped him with no apologies or whatsoever as they only glared at him.

"Rude"

Sebastian could feel more muttering of the people as he gets closer to the media room. He puts up a brave face like he doesn't hear them but he will be lying to say if they didn't hurt. He felt truly wronged being portrayed as someone villainous when he is just doing his job.

The only thing that Sebastian is looking forward to is talking to Y/N.

With all the chaos, he has a sense of relief that Y/N understands. She was the first person who talked to her after everything that happened. She had understood the why and the whole situation. It brought him some sort of comfort that there is someone by his side.

Sebastian was craning his head all around the paddock to look for the girl, she must be here somewhere. He also tried looking for Jenson as they are often paired together but he had no luck with the McLaren driver as well.

And then he finds her busy with her laptop talking with Jenson. Sebastian made a beeline to the duo despite the protest of Britta.

"Y/N, I tried picking you up a while ago but then your hotel-"Sebastian explained.

"Seb"she was looking side by side as if afraid to be caught talking to him "We have to speak later"

"What's going on?"

"We have to go"Jenson excused.

There was a strained smile on both of their faces. They hurriedly exited the room which made Sebastian frown.

Did he say something wrong? Why are they acting weird?

"I heard some rumors about that"Britta piped in "They say that after the whole fiasco last time, McLaren is not allowing interactions between you, Mark, and Y/N"

That's the most bullshit that Sebastian heard. He could have handled the stares and the murmurings but this was his breaking point.

"This is so unfair. What does my fight with Mark have to do with them"

"Bad press, you know how Jenson is still recovering from his bad public opinion"Britta sighs.

But this is still unfair. The expression cannot be removed from the German driver's face. He felt like the anger that he has been trying to keep at bay is ready to burst out.

"Don't worry, this may be only temporary till things die down"Britta assures.

But those words fall on deaf ears. Sebastian has already made up his mind that if they truly want a villain then a villain they would get from this whole fiasco.

2013, Bahrain International Circuit

"Can we talk?"

This feels like a common occurrence between the two Webber siblings. Frankly, Y/N is a bit tired because she knows that this may lead to another argument again.

"I'm busy and I'm under strict orders not to talk to any of you"Y/N brushes off.

He knows that. Jenson had sent him a text that they are refrained from speaking to them publicly. This is why Mark waited until the end of the race where everyone is packing up and busy to talk to her.

"Please Y/N"Mark held on her wrist "I am just extremely worried about you"

There was a concern evident on his eyes. For Y/N, she truly missed that from her brother. How long have she longed for the hate and the irritation to disappear from his eyes. She felt like she could cry on the spot.

"I'm okay Mark"she assures.

"Are you really? Is McLaren keeping the media away? Aren't you getting bombarded? Are they treating you okay?"Mark's rapid question started.

He had been stupid for so long to allow his track rivalry to ruin his relationship with his sister. He made up his mind when he saw how she have been crowded by reporters that he would try to be better. He would try his best to earn her forgiveness and to stay by her side no matter what.

"I'm okay, you don't have to worry"she replies.

But it has been a difficult few weeks for Y/N. She felt very alone and very restricted with her moves around during the weekend. She felt watched by McLaren team for a single wrong move. She was afraid to be kicked out and be left out of the only world she knew.

"I know we have our differences but you have me by your side"Mark pulled her in a hug.

And this is where the waterworks started. It has been a long while since the siblings embraced each other. With all the drama and the stress that they shared the past few years, this brings a different kind of comfort.

"I'm really sorry when I said awful things to you Mark"

"No apologies, you were just hurt"Mark soothes "I should be the one apologizing for pushing you away and being a shit brother"

They were away from the eyes of the public but little did they know they have been spotted by someone else. Sebastian could only turn away with a hurt feeling thinking that Y/N choose a side in this rivalry and it was not by his side.

The necklace that hangs on his neck feels heavy. He quickly unclasped it and he holds it tightly in his hands. It was a reminder of Y/N and her support, now it seems to be mocking him.

Sebastian quickly left without making his presence known. The necklace tossed somewhere that he can't quite remember.

2013, Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

"I think Seb is mad at me" Y/N was worried.

It was a common practice that even if they are not allowed to see each other physically, they would message each other. However, ever since Bahrain, Sebastian was acting off and cold. It was seriously stressing Y/N out.

"Look at you all troubled"Jenson has the audacity to giggle at her misery "And you say you don't love him"

"Jenson, this is serious"

"You are soooooooo down bad"he teased.

"Why did I ever think that I'll get a decent advice from you"Y/N huffs.

She could have asked Nico or Lewis for help. Or even Michael and Corinna but here she was sitting in Jenson's hotel room and wondering for advices. She classifies this as a desperate situation which is why she is asking Jenson's opinion.

"Hey hey"Jenson sits closer "I'm your lad for this one, you can trust me to give you the other perspective so you can figure out what's wrong"

"So tell me what's wrong"

"Well usually when guys are acting like that then maybe they simply want your affection or your attention to dote on them."Jenson explains.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Doesn't he get a lot of attention from the media and everything?"

It caused Jenson to laugh. He had to remind himself to take it easy on Y/N because Sebastian is about to be the first relationship that the girl is entering in.

"That's a different kind of attention"Jenson states "Maybe Sebastian was just feeling very alone with everyone being against him and maybe he just needs a little extra TLC from you"

"I have always tried to make him feel like I support him"Y/N notes.

"Yeah but maybe you can do something like making him letters or maybe a cheer up basket. I'm pretty sure you could get some people to deliver them to him, it will really cheer him up"Jenson listed out.

Y/N reopens her phone and saw the text messages that she has sent. She tried cheering him up because he lost a podium for the first time this season. He hasn't replied yet or even looked at it.

"Hey cheer up, Sebastian is too in love with you to lose feelings for you"Jenson reminds "He had been in love with you for ages and it took him so long to tell you so I'm pretty sure that he won't simply leave you there"

"You really think so?"

"Oh I know so, you have no idea how Sebastian nearly pushed me off track because I was close to you"

"No, he did not!"

And in another part of town, the man of the hour is in a very crowded area. The flashing lights, the smell of smoke, and overflowing alcohol was not his typical scene. However, Sebastian felt like he needed this break from everything that has been happening since Malaysia.

"Another round of shots for the world champion"someone pushed an array of tequila in front of him.

He gave them a smile as he chugs them all down.

Now he knows why some drivers opt to have drink after a miserable weekend. It makes the pain less and his mind is free from any of those thoughts that he could have done better.

"Sebastian?"a voice called out "Oh my god, I can't believe its you"

His drunken state has clouded his vision. He only made sense that the voice was a female and it was awfully familiar to him.

"Youu can come zit wid me" words were already slurred.

"Sebastian, I'm really happy to see you! I have been looking for you this weekend but you seem occupied"

"Y/N?"Sebastian could only think of one person that would have looked at him this weekend.

"No, I'm not Y/N. I'm-"

Maybe its the club's loud music but Sebastian didn't hear it. He proceeded to get closer to her until he envelopes her in a hug. He felt at peace suddenly being with someone familiar in a place full of strangers.

"Y/N, I missed you so much"Sebastian murmurs.

It was the very first mistake that he has made that night. The second one was bringing the woman back to his hotel and to his bed.

#sebastian vettel x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #about you series #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel angst

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cator99 · 3 months ago

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top 10 long-term psychiatric lockdown facility patients:

#1. "DJ B-Rad": severely hyperactive autistic 11 year old. Looked and acted like some sort of elf. Would only respond to DJ B-Rad. Spoke and conversed pretty much exclusively in outbursts of classic youtube poop quotes. The other kids thought he was schizophrenic but I understood him and appreciated the humor he brought to what was often a quite dour situation. The place held I think 30 kids at a time– 10 per wing, divided by the risk-level associated with their interactions/how much care they needed. I was in the "low risk" section... in a room beside DJ B-Rad. He would frequently beatbox while partaking in the enjoyment of punching or hitting himself. Not in a depressive or self-haming way, nor in a "the voices made me do it" way. He just seemed to genuinely enjoy it. #1 because I have never met someone with such jouissance before or since. (and also because I wanted to start this off on a high note.)

#2. really charismatic stylish fat girl, maybe 15 or 16, who told everyone she was autistic. all professionals dissuaded her from mentioning it since that didn't seem to be her problem and really she didn't seem to have any beyond claiming to be autistic for no appparent reason. It became clear very quickly that she was self diagnosed and had her autism refuted by every professional she had come across. Regardless– she didn't seem to know why she was there either. She genuinely came across as normal, confident, well-adjusted, healthy family life, so why was she there? I had a bit of a crush on her and she had lesbian moms so i kept my fingers crossed that she would self diagnose herself as some flavor of kweer. I didn't think too hard about it back then because in all honesty I hadnt the faintest idea of what autistic even meant and no one seemed able to give me a straight answer. In hindsight... my conspiracy theory is that her moms initially took her to a psychologist because she kept telling people she was super autistic and back then that sort of claim carried massive weight (non zero chance tumblr played a part in her autism proclamation, but she was way ahead of the curve seeing as this was like... early 2012. in canada. I wasnt really online back then so idk when this sort of thing started to pick up steam but judging by how 2013 unfolded im gonna guess that it was right about then...) so maybe they thought she was like having some sort of very pressing identity issues or psychosis maybe muchausen and decided to ship her off without delay... A genuinely normal girl adamant on having a disability that was considered (especially back then. especially after DJ B-Rad.) debilitating must have seemed so insane..... until suddenly it wasn't lol (even normies I know nowadays say things like "everyone is a little autistic") . She arrived a few weeks before my graduation and at that point almost all of the people I spent my time with were gone and the place was full of randos who I otherwise didn't gaf about which meant I was able to spend more time getting to get to know her, trying to understand why she was there and what autism meant. Unfortunately, her timing could not have been worse. No one had time to entertain her autism claims. She had arrived almost immediately after the grand spergfest that was DJ B-Rad's graduation dinner. the bar was high. If you were gonna be calling yourself autistic, you were gonna have to prove it. She didn't seem at all bothered, nor deterred, nor invalidated by the professionals refusing to entertain the idea of her being even slightly on the spectrum... she was certain they were just ableist. During group therapy, when trying to get to the bottom of things, the "why" of her stay here, what issues she may have been dealing with, anything really... There didn't seem to be an answer. She most often took on a supportive role for others that came across as slightly tone deaf because she was trying to tell trauma patients to just keep their chin up and stay positive... which on paper could be possibly bad faith interpreted as "socially autistic" but no it more so came across as out of touch, as one of the rare patients who didnt have a background involving trauma, poverty, neglect, mental illness, etc. But to be honest, most people seemed to appreciate just having a truly unbothered, kind, and optimistic peer around– her intentions were, at the very least, pure. And for someone with low-level munchhausen, it didn't seem as though she was doing it for attention, nor did she fake any symptoms, or do anything really beyond say "i am autistic" and continue on with her day which I'm sure was extra confusing for the professionals dealing with her to wrap their heads around at the time.

#3. The Escape Artist: 14, caring and emotionally intelligent when she let her guard down, but typically quite guarded. Screwed up from her life on the rez. Always kept it real– I had some of my best discussions about life in general with her. By the time I got there, she had taken on a sort of mythical status as the unapproachable girl who had almost escaped the facility, and as a result had her stay extended "indefinitely". The minimum (and typical) stay was 4 months... by the time I arrived, she had been there for over 6 months, and she was still there when I "graduated" 4 months later. The story was that not long into her stay, she was being led back inside with the rest of the herd following a highly-supervised game of soccer in the fenced-off field attached to the back of the facility. To get outside at any time, you have to go through two (or 3) sets of locked doors. Beyond that... I mean, this place is in the middle of nowhere. This isn't some city psych ward shit. But security wasn't as tight as the staff let on. She had been plotting and waiting for a chance to escape for weeks– it was almost all she thought about. As the crowd was ushered along, distractions and misbehaving children were plentiful. While the staff were suddenly very wrapped up in dealing with whatever pressing issue had begun occurring, she realized that the door behind them had not closed properly. She somehow slipped out unseen, and managed to get a 10 minute head start before they realized she had vanished. She had run out the back, climbed the fence, hurt herself in doing so, but booked it down the highway regardless. She was in the middle of attempting to board a bus at one of its very few stops between this nowhere-place and the nearby city, when suddenly she was tackled down by staff who had been frantically driving around looking for her. Every kid there joked about plotting their escape– so of course she was a legend for having gotten that far. However, her response was always to roll her eyes at anyone who even joked about it: "Dont be stupid. Just do your 4 months. It passes like nothing." While she tended to be withdrawn from other patients, she had close relationships with all the staff there- including the ones who caught her- and often admitted that she wasn't sure anymore what she would do if they told her that it was her turn to graduate. Her entire support system was there. She didn't want to leave. At some point the program director decided she was making good progress and tried to push her on the path of the family reintigration stage. First time she went out for a brief day-pass type visit with her family, she stabbed herself in the stomach. Spent some time in an actual hospital. Upon her return, she played it cool and acted like it was no big deal, even tried to warp it into a badass thing while she showed us her stitches. But we all knew it was fucked up and that the next group therapy everyone was gonna have to sit back and give her the front and center even though she wanted to brush it off. She otherwise did seem happy to be back, even as she was placed back on "indefinitely stay" status. She was one of few I kept in touch with... which became very difficult very fast as she proceeded to dissappear for months and then years at a time, with the only indications of what's going on being people posting to her fb page asking if she's out of jail yet.

#4. Future Millenial Cringe Tiktok Star: 17, Baddie of the low-risk wing. She always had the most useful insight to offer during group-therapy (split by sex– sorry4tangent but of course as a fresh ftm I asked to get put into the "boys" group– was talked out of it by a staff member who assured me that it was an absolute shitshow in there and that yeah I could go down that road and maybe succeed but I would 100% regret it. I talked to some of the guys who told me it was just 2 hours of total retardation and anger outbursts often leading to physical fights and restraint-room utilization, all to the soundtrack of DJ B-Rad yelling "Pizza Time!" "PINGAS" "You Must Die" "Sos" etc. lol)... I always admired her maturity, level-headedness, and ability to tell off the dipshit dudes there in such a way that the staff had her back, and I often asked her how tf to handle this shit while maintaining my sanity. She was certain that you don't, but that's alright– comes with the territory– and if your sanity is reliant on being kept in here then you're not going to know how to cope on the ouside– she frequently said that hating it there and wanting to leave was a good thing (as you could imagine, her and Escapee had a strained relationship, and while Escapee would directly bring these things up with her, she saw the topic as dead on arrival since she was there solely for herself and knew it, and kept form boundaries between herself and other patients, which isnt to say she didnt engage with others but I could tell she was... I guess just way more self aware than the rest of us, likely due to her being the oldest one there), but sometimes people challenged this idea by positing that she was just saying that to justify her negativity, since it "wasn't that bad" there. She assured them that it wasn't normal to be locked up in a psychiatric facility, and that not treating it like a vacation wasn't a failure on her part– she was there putting in hard work to sort her shit out, and thought that it was a waste to just sit around waiting for it to be over. Oh also staff low-key knew she had snuck a phone onto the wing but didn't care really, because she was a model patient (phone was snuck in during her "family reintigration" period nearing the end of her stay, where the program gives patient families the opportunity to visit and go out for the day– and more rarely but sometimes even overnight, depending on the patient. All of this was pretty rare tho because kids often came from idgaf-families)... not much else to say except she was dope and it's weird seeing her getting dunked on online for calling herself clumsy in a tiktok. She once ran for some political position while also being open about the fact that she was a stripper. She almost got voted in too (small town politics moment)I honestly wish she had because she has always seemed very intelligent and driven...

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girliism · 5 months ago

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LAST CHRISTMAS.

pairing: tashi duncan x reader

summary: in which tashi goes back home for christmas.

note: childhood friends that fell out to lovers, it’s 2013, use of y/n, tashi sexuality confrontation, ugly sweater party, me yearning to experience my childhood christmas again is manifested in light shows and tree mazes, semi proof read but only the beginning, word count idk i wrote this on tumblr but it’s kinda long (sorry), divider by @ issysh3ll

it’s cold. that’s the first thing tashi thinks when she steps out of her car and onto the snowy driveway of her childhood home. she hasn’t spent a christmas here since she left for college, but all the decorations are the same. save for the mini tree that her younger self would personally decorate. that was missing.

—

“tashi!” her mother greeted her at the front door. “we’re so happy to have you back this year.” it’s warm now, with the heat coming from inside the house and her mothers arms wrapped around her. she felt at home.

“we’re so glad you decided to come.”

“you’ve been gone so long.”

“how was the drive?”

“oh, tash we missed you last year.”

her family spoke all at once to her as her mother placed another plate of food in front of her. “you must be hungry from the drive.” she had said.

tashi answered their questions with a smile, just glad none of them had asked about art yet.

“so, where’s my future son in law? will he be joining us later?” she felt the eyes of her mom, dad, and little brothers staring her down. tashi harshly swallowed the food in her mouth before placing her fork down. she knew what they were expecting to hear, and it was not…

“we decided to call off the engagement.”

no one said anything, they just looked at her, processing what she had said. “good, i always knew he was a douche.” her little brother said, breaking the silence. “nico!” her mom let out a groan, smacking him on the head. she watched her scold him for the comment he made. he sent her a wink and tashi gave him a nod, silently thanking him for taking the focus off her and the bomb she just dropped.

—

tashi tucked herself into her old bed. her room hadn’t changed a bit, the same poster still littered her walls, fairy lights she put up at thirteen still working to make her room feel a little less dark.

her dad and brothers were gone by the time she woke up, only her mother sat in the kitchen writing what she assumed was a christmas dinner menu.

“morning.”

“good morning honey, how was your sleep.” tashi made her way to the coffee maker.

“good.”

her mom watched her move about the kitchen. filling up her cup with coffee, opening the cabinet to grab a bowl and some cereal then to the fridge for some milk. after assembling her breakfast tashi could still feel her mothers eyes on her. tashi slowly brought her graze from her bowl to her mom.

they had a silent staring match. tashi could tell her mom was holding back from asking her about what she said last night.

tashi rolled her eyes. “ok, go on, ask.” tashi’s mom shook her head turning her attention back to her menu pretending not to know what she was talking about. “i don’t know what you’re referring too.” another eye roll. “mom.” her mom let out a sigh taking off her glasses. “ok, fine. what happened? you two were perfectly in love the last time i saw you, and now you’re no longer together?”

she understood her mother’s confusion. on paper her and art were perfectly in love but behind closed doors tashi felt like she was trying to keep up with art’s affection for her. it also didn’t help that she made an unforgivable mistake in atlanta that still eats her up inside two years later.

“the engagement itself was already kinda rushed and after awhile it stopped feeling….right. i guess.” in the beginning tashi was happy to be engaged but then the more she thought about it the more out of control she felt, like she was suffocating. the title of future mrs. art donaldson reaching out and choking her.

tashi shrugged playing with the now soggy cereal in her bowl. “it was a clean break up. art was upset, i mean who wouldn’t be. but he uh… wants me to keep coaching him so i guess he doesn’t completely hate me.” she let out a sighed laugh. “oh, tash.” her mom placed her hand on top of tashi’s fidgeting one. “the two of you are so young anyway. and hey, if it ever starts feeling right again there’s still time.” tashi gave her mom a sad forced smile.

the air around them had turned all depressing and sad until her mom cleared her throat. “on a happier note. dad put an order out for a mini tree that’s waiting to be picked up. usually we’d go get and decorate it ourselves, but you’re here now and we thought maybe you could revive this old tradition?” her mom poked lightly at her cheeks with a small smile.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

—

tashi left her mom to go shopping while she made her way to tree shop across the street.

the smell of pine from the array of christmas trees took her back to when she was younger. running through the maze of giant trees with her brothers while her parents bought the tree.

“tashi?”

a voice calls her name. a voice she hasn’t heard in over seven years.

tashi turned around to be faced with you.

you had been coming back from helping a family load a tree into their car where you saw a tall figure standing near the entrance. you were going to pass her off as just another costumer but the way she was standing always with perfect posture felt too familiar.

“tashi, wow. i thought that was you. what are you doing back home?”

“y/n, hey.” after all these years your name felt for so foreign on her tongue. “i’m just back for the holidays.” tashi hadn’t prepared for this interaction. which she probably should have since this is your families christmas tree farm she’s shopping at.

you smile at her. you had stopped expecting tashi to come back after the first two years you spent knocking on the duncan’s door, not so discreetly asking if tashi was home. but she was here now and you had really missed her, even after everything.

tashi cleared her throat. “so, your dad still making you work.” you huffed a little laugh. “yeah, expect now he actually has to pay me.” having a family business that thrived during christmas ment spending your winter break freezing your ass off in a little christmas tree outfit, or twirling a sign, to now helping sell actual trees.

“it really isn’t that bad-”

“tashi duncan is that you?” a loud voice cut you off, turning your focus from each other and onto the person it belonged too. your dad.

“yes, sir it’s me.” tashi made her way towards him. “how have you been?” your dad immediately pulled her in for a hug, catching her off guard. “how have i been? no, how have you been? gosh it’s been years. you know, y/n complains constantly about how we had lost you to the superficial california life.” he let out a full belly laugh. tashi’s eyes flicked towards where you were standing, cheeks showcasing a slightly blush that’s could either be from the cold or embarrassment.

your dad turned to look at you. “y/n, why don’t you go and get tashi her tree while we catch up.” the man gave you no room to argue back, with an eye roll you stomped your way through the snow.

when you come back, your dad and tashi were laughing like a pair of old friends. topbled over clutching their stomach, you could hear their mixed laughter from the few feet away that you were.

“i got the tree.”

you and tashi carried the tree across the street to her car yourselves. her at one end you at the other. you could see her breath in the the cold air whenever she huffed.

the back door to her car is slammed shut after the tree is mounted onto the top of her roof.

“well, it was really nice seeing you again tashi.” the smile you gave her was tight lipped. “don’t be a stranger.”

tashi watched you walk away and it was giving her a sick sense of deja vu.

“y/n.”

you stopped and turned around.

“did you wanna help me decorate this tomorrow?”

it was a childish ask, helping decorate a tree but tashi was desperate. desperate to keep talking to you, desperate to try and mend the one good thing she once had.

“i don’t have anything better to do.”

numbers were exchanged and goodbyes were said. you made your way back across the street leaving tashi at her car.

“hey, was that y/n?” tashi’s mom came back with groceries in her hand. her voice snapping tashi out of her head. “huh? oh, yeah it was.” her mom opened the car door, dropping the bags inside. “hm, she was always a nice girl.”

—

you sat in your car outside tashi house, your thumbs anxiously drumming on the steering wheel. you eyed your watch a couple times until the hands read 12:00 before stepping out into the cold.

even in the day time the duncan’s lavishly decorated house looked amazing. candy cane sticks stuck out of the ground lining the driveway all the way up to the porch.

three knocks were delivered onto the door. you waited, staring down at the brown mat when the door opened.

“give me just one minute i’ll be right out.” tashi told you, disappearing back into her house.

you’ve done this a million times in your youth. waiting outside on the porch swing for tashi so the two of you can go play. old habits must die hard, because here you were falling into easy motion of swaying back and forth. the wood creaking every so often while you waited.

tashi finally stepped out in a white north face coat with matching gloves. she was carrying a big box full of christmas tree decorations, a wide smile on her face.

you silently wrapped the tree with light while tashi kneeled over the box rifling through the balls of ornaments, picking whatever caught her eye.

you cleared your throat. “so, what’s life like for you nowadays.”

tashi hummed, thinking back on her day to day. she’d wake up unbelievable early, train with art, take a break to answer emails and check schedules, another training session with art, have dinner together, then do it all over again tomorrow.

“to be honest, really fucking boring.” you both laughed.

“what, not having fun planing your wedding?” you cringed at how your words came out a lot snarky then intended.

tashi sighed, standing up and walked over to you with four ornaments in her hand. she passed two to you. “that’s actually not happening anymore.” she spoke softly, dropping one of the shiny plastic balls onto the tree.

“oh.” you bit at your lip and mumbled. “sorry.” tashi just shrugged.

“at least now you don’t have to send me a pity invite.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. which seemed to work because tashi shot you the look she always gave when you would distract her. that unimpressed, slightly amused look that had you biting back a smile.

“shut up. you would have gotten a real invite.”

you gasped overly dramatic placing a hand over your heart. “are you saying i was really on the guest list?”

“of course you were.” tashi scoffed. “you’re supposed to my maid honor. remember.” she nudged your shoulder.

like most girls, you and tashi spent a lot of time planning your weddings. tashi’s wedding would be first then yours the day after because having a wedding on the same day was cliche in tashi’s eyes. though you wanted the wedding to take place on the same day for a totally different reason.

“i also remember you wanting a pink wedding dress. does that still stand?” tashi let out a loud laugh, shaking her head. “god no!”

the rest of the decorating went on like that. light laughs and joking until if was time to put on the star.

you passed the star off to tashi but she pushed back into your hands. “you put it on.” she insisted. you shook your head. “it’s your tree, you should but the star on.” tashi sigh obnoxiously, putting her hands on your shoulder. “exactly, it’s my tree meaning my rules and i want you to put it on.”

she was looking you right in the eyes and it was making your beat a little faster than normal. never being able to deny tashi, you place the star right on the head of the tree. “pretty.” tashi muttered, looking at the newly decorated tree while you looked at her. “yeah, pretty.”

tashi walked you to your car. “so, are you coming tomorrow?” tomorrow. the duncan’s annual christmas eve ugly sweater party. “yeah, i’ll be the one in the ugly sweater.” tashi laughed again and this was probably the most she’s laughed in the past year. “i’ll keep a look out.” you nodded and got in your car.

—

“do you think i should have brought more wine?”

“mom.”

“honey, one bottle is more than enough.”

“i should’ve brought the rosé”

you rolled your eyes as you mom argues with herself over which alcoholic beverage she should have brought.

the front door to the duncan house opened. tashi parents greeted yours then pointed you in the direction of the kitchen where tashi was.

inside the house was warm from the fireplace burning and the amount of bodies in it. christmas music played throughout the home and you followed the smell of gingerbread to find tashi hunched over a freshly baked try.

“nice sweater.” you said loudly over all the music and talking.

tashi playfully rolled her eyes at you. she knew her sweater her wasn’t nice it was incredibly cheesy, santa playing tennis. typical. “not as nice as yours.” she pointed out, handing you a glass of eggnog.

“doesn’t get as nice as santa on a stripper pole, does it.” you took a sip of the obviously spiked drink. tashi shook her head smiling and you couldn’t help but smile as well.

the party went on as it does every year. very intense games of charades are played, the team with you and tashi winning multiple times. the adults getting way to hyped on the spiked eggnog causing a very unserious but very heated discussion on what christmas movie is truly the best.

“you wanna get out of here.” you jumped at the sound of tashi’s voice echoing through your ears. you look up at where she was standing above you nodding her head to the back door she started walking towards.

you slowly slipped out your chair, grabbing your shoes from the front door and making your way to the kitchen, slipping out the doors to find tashi waiting for you.

snow covered the entire ground and in the distance sat the treehouse tashi’s dad built her years ago. it was still standing, looking in perfectly good shape. you eyed the treehouse then tashi, nudging her shoulder.

“last one there is a rotten egg.” you stated. tashi gave you a competitive look wasting no time bursting out in a sprint to the treehouse. you immediately chased after her, the cold wind blowing against your face. you won by a landslide, climbing up the ladder and into the house.

“wow.” you muttered to yourself. not a single thing had changed. the same bean bags and drawings filled the tiny space. tashi finally pulled herself up with a slight struggle. she rested her back against one of the walls, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she tried to steady her breath.

you placed yourself next to her watching as her hands massage over her knee. her knee. you knew what happened, everyone knew what had happened.

“does it hurt?” you spoke softly. “sometimes. only if i push myself to far.” you chewed on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “i wanted to call you know… when it happened.” tashi scoffed. “yeah, well you didn’t.” you flinched, her words were harsh.

“i know, and i’m sorry for not being there for you. i just—we hadn’t talked since that day.” you sighed, eyes locking with tashi’s brown ones. “i just figured i was the last person you wanted to see.” tashi moved her hand from her knee and slotted your hands together, fingers interlocking. her face was so close to your, noses nearly touching, you could smell the peppermint candy cane she was eating earlier on her breath.

“i wanted you there. god, i wanted you there so badly. probably would have felt less alone.” you squeezed her hand. “i’m here now.”

tashi would probably—definitely hate herself for doing this later but right now it felt right to inch her face closer to yours. you slowly mirroring her movements. your lips so close to touching, eyes closed… then a loud knock rang though the treehouse before the latch in the floor opened causing you and tashi to rip away from each other.

a head of brown curls popped through. “tash, mom’s looking for you, time to say goodbye to guest.” her little brother looked over to you. “hey, y/n.”

“hi, nico.”

the two siblings left the treehouse but you stayed for a while until the cold got unbearable.

“it was such a lovely party, thank you again for having us.” your mother and tashi’s hugged while your dads made plans to get beers together soon. you zipped yourself into your coat, making you way over to tashi.

“bye, tash.” you whispered. she gave you a short wave and closed lip smile. and you and your parents were out the door.

—

it was christmas morning and tashi hadn’t got out of bed yet. all night and all this morning she replayed in her mind what happened, or rather almost happened in the treehouse. what if her brother never interrupted, would she really have kissed you? her train of thought was stopped when her phone pinged with a message from you.

[from: y/n]

good morning, merry christmas.

tashi closed her phone, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. she couldn’t respond to you, not yet. not while her was swimming with things she thought she got over.

making her way down the stairs, she could hear laughter coming from the kitchen and elf playing in the background from the living room tv.

“there she is. thought we were gonna have to have breakfast without you.” her mother placed a hand on her cheek and passed her a plate. the both of them moving to join everyone else in the living room.

seating here watching her family open presents, laugh and crack jokes had tashi questioning herself. why had she taken so long to come home?

every year you town sets up a light display where you come drive through and see all the decorations. and every year you and tashi would have your parents drive through the past all the displays before meeting up in the middle where hot chocolate was for a dollar was served.

you didn’t even know if tashi was coming, but you still stood outside the hot chocolate stand with a tiny wrapped present in your hand. then a black suv that you knew belonged to the duncan family pulled up and exited the vehicle, tashi being the last.

she wearing that same north face coat and you made you way to her.

“hey, did you get my message?” tashi hummed. “i did, merry christmas.”

you nodded, taking a deep breath holding out the present you had in your hand for her to take. tashi’s eyes widened as she took the box from you. “oh, you didn’t have to get me anything-” you stopped her. “it’s fine, i technically didn’t get this for christmas. it was the supposed to be the gift i gave you after you won the us open juniors.”

tashi’s heart fell at that. us open juniors. the open she met art and patrick at. the open she practically forbade you from coming to.

—

“ok, so we’re all set. i’ve made the playlist to last us the whole plane ride.”

tashi slammed the truck of her parents car shut before walking over to you. “about that… um, do you mind if you miss this on?”

you stopped what you were doing. “why?”

tashi shrugged, playing with a lose thread on her shirt. “it’s just, i really need to focus and you being there would throw me off.” you rolled you eyes. “i’ve been to every single one of your games, tash. how is this one different?”

tashi really didn’t wanna fight right now she just need you to listen to her. “it just is, ok.”

you narrowed your eyes. “is this about what happened last night? is that why you’re being all weird?” tashi’s head immediately snapped up to look at you. “no!” yes. the kiss that happened the night before had really messed with tashi’s head, a lot more then she could handle. “last night was nothing, it doesn’t have to do with anything. you just distracted me and i can’t afford distractions.”

you scoffed, not having the energy to argue with her. “whatever, tashi. good luck at game.” you walked away from her.

—

that memory played like a movie in tashi’s mind as she looked down at the box in her hand.

“anyways, it’s probably pathetic that i kept it after all these years but i thought you should have it.” you didn’t notice the tears had started to well in tashi’s eyes until she looked up at you. “tash?”

“i’m sorry.” her voice cracked. “i’m sorry for shutting you out like that.” you shook you head with widen eyes. “it’s fine, it’s ok. i’ve gotten over it, really.” you tried to reassure her.

“but it’s not ok. i was mean to you, i basically cut you out of my life because i was scared. scared of what that kiss ment. scared of what would happen after.” she took a deep breath. “i was scared of myself and fucking terrified of my parents. and i took it out on you. you, the only person to this day that makes my stomach feel all weird and my insides warm. so many times i wanted to call you or reach out to you but i kinda thought you hated me-” tashi’s rambling was cut short by your lips on hers. your lips that were warm despite the freezing cold.

for that moment where yours and tashi’s lips moved as one everything felt right, like the last seven years had been leading up to this moment.

tashi broke the kiss to look you in the eye. “sorry for being a bitch to you.” she apologized again, prompting you to roll your eyes. “just so you know i could never hate you.” you bumped your nose on hers. tashi let out a huffed laugh, bringing one of her hands up to your cheek to pull you in for another kiss not caring that you were standing were anyone could see because right now it was just you and her.

—

#girliism #challengers #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan fluff

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omnifuneral · 12 days ago

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I don't really know who this post is "for", but this morning I've been listening to a couple records from right around the height of the "autotune war" of the late 2000s and I have some thoughts.

I was in school for music production right around the time all that was reaching something of a head. 808s and Heartbreak had a death grip on the zeitgeist, Jay-Z released that (corny at the time, ridiculous in retrospect, like most of his mid-to-late career work) "Death of Autotune" song, and even pretty normal people had Very Strong Opinions on something they didn't really understand.

One problem with the discussion was that two VERY different things were happening in popular music at the same time, both of which could reasonably be referred to as "autotune", because they WERE both using the same tooling:

Autotune as an artistic decision - think Kanye, Cher, T-Pain, your favorite rapper today if you're not a total cornball. Natural progression from Moroder's vocoder or Frampton's talkbox, really, but Black people were doing it With Computer now so it was Bad

Autotune designed to be invisible - this is more broadly called "pitch correction" in the industry and is a universal feature of pretty much all pop records made in the last 20 years, but is a LOT better now than it was back then... listen to the 2007 A7X self-titled record or some early Katy Perry if you want to hear how uncanny this could sound at the time. More objectionable sounding IMO, but harder to hear, and it all kind of got lumped together in the public consciousness around really stale, lame, point-missing conversations about "talent" and "authenticity"

Anyway, if this all seems quaint and a little weird to have gotten so worked up about in retrospect, that's because it is. Within a few years, "artistic" autotune was so ubiquitous it became impossible to imagine pop or hip-hop without it, and the tools and techniques for "transparent" pitch correction had gotten so much better that nobody except your real Rick Beato-tier production nerds (myself included) would ever hear it. By 2012 or 2013 the only people still bitching at all were, well, boomers.

The reason I bothered typing all this out, besides the fact that I find this stuff interesting, is that it's basically how I see artistic uses of generative AI shaking out in the next decade or so. There will almost certainly be an increasing bifurcation between uses of AI tools that are obviously AI - indeed, where the AI-ness is part of the point - and works of art where some generative tools were used somewhere in the process more or less transparently. Lots of people will stay very angry about the whole thing for quite some time, and (knowingly or not) conflate the two very different processes when discussing them. Both streams will evolve rapidly both in terms of tool quality and technique refinement, and eventually both totally AI-generated art, or music, or whatever and "traditional" works that employ contemporary tooling will exist side by side in a world where the vast majority of normal people are (mostly) done bitching about it.

Or... I could be totally wrong about everything. Whatever. The future is unwritten.

Either way, I hope you're having a great weekend. ✌️

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likeadevils · 2 years ago

Text

1989 Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on 1989 in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing 1989 and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process

Of all the albums in Taylor's discography, I think this is the one that improves the most when you listen to it in order. All of those things Taylor was talking about in the promo for this album-- how this is an album of her coming into her own, figuring out her values, learning to stand on her own two feet-- it all clicks into place. Listening to it in order has made me cry on more than one occasion, and it's also the thing that made me start this whole crazy process of figuring out the dates she wrote each song.

If you don't want to read the whole post, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based on guesswork and is highly likely to change, or, all that is known is the general season.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices)

Without further ado...

Oct 6, 2012: Taylor seems to have been in a studio in London (Note: I have no idea where this photo comes from and I can not find a place that specifies if this is a music studio or radio interview.)

This Love: Oct 17, 2012 (Confirmed)

October 19, 2012: Taylor mentions wanting to work with Imogen Heap, prompting Imogen to get in touch with Taylor

Time Interview: Who’d be your dream collaboration, especially now that you’re taking more musical risks? Let me think. Imogen Heap! She’s amazing. Taylor: Someone asked me in an interview "Who would you like to work with?" and I said Imogen Heap. I get an email to my management, sent like "Imogen just saw that Taylor just said an interview that she would like to work together" She said "Why don't you come out to my studio." Imogen: I got a phone call [in 2014] saying Taylor Swift was in London, she'd love to work with me and the only date she could do (between 4 sold out 02 arenas!) was the day after we got back, Sunday. It was both unexpected and not at the same time as I'd heard Taylor was a fan a while back via this Time magazine piece but somehow didn't think it would actually happen.

Fall 2012: Taylor possibly writes a song with Harry Styles and Jacknife Lee (her producer for The Last Time).

Jacknife Lee: “It was out of my field of expertise and interest, but I was intrigued and my girls were thrilled. Taylor was nice and very professional. She knew what she wanted and there was no fucking about. She was seeing Harry Styles at the time, so he came to Topanga on her recommendation. She wrote a few songs with him, and it was the same thing – quick. But this time it was more directed by the management and label. They were after something specific. I wanted more acoustic and gentle, almost Americana, and they wanted bombast. They got what they wanted, and that was the extent of my foray into teen-pop territory. It was fun.”

All You Had to Do Was Stay: Jan 10, 2013 (Confirmed)

Taylor is photographed outside Conway, and then tweets "Back in the studio. Uh oh..." Later, Taylor confirmed that she was recording All You Had To Do Was Stay. Taylor: I had a dream that my ex showed up at my door, knocked at my door, and I opened it up, and I was about ready to launch into the perfect thing to say [...], Instead, all that would come out of my mouth was that high-pitched chorus of people singing, 'Stay!'...and then you go to say something else, and it's just like 'Stay! Stay! Stay!' And I woke up, I was like 'Oh, that was mortifying. But that's kind of a cool vocal part.'

January 11, 2013: Taylor is photographed outside Conway again

How You Get The Girl: Jan 15, 2013 (Confirmed)

Taylor posts a picture of her playing a guitar in the studio, captioned "Somewhere in LA..". Later, Taylor confirmed that she was recording How You Get The Girl. Given what was going on in her personal life, she likely wrote this sometime in the fall/winter of 2012, but all we know for sure is the date she recorded it.

February 9, 2013: Tweets "Grammy rehearsals last night, studio today, who knows what tonight holds! (I do. Laying around watching TV and eating candy.)"

March 6, 2013: Taylor is photographed outside a studio in LA

March 23, 2013: Posts a picture of her playing guitar captioned "Pre show. Columbia, South Carolina"

I Wish You Would: May 28, 2013 (Inferring)

Taylor is photographed out for lunch in Rhode Island with Lena Dunham and Jack Antonoff on May 27, before leaving for her show in Phoenix, Arizona the next day Taylor: "Max Martin and [Karl Johan] Shellback [Schuster] were the last people I collaborated with on [2012 album] Red, and I wished we could have done more and explored more. So going into this album, I knew that I wanted to start with them again. Then I thought, “Wouldn’t it be amazing to work with Ryan Tedder?” And then I was with Jack Antonoff and Lena Dunham at the beach, and we started talking about our favorite ’80s music. All of this started happening organically, and I found myself gravitating toward pop sensibilities, pop hooks, pop production styles." Jack: "We were hanging out at her house in Rhode Island and we were talking about John Hughes movies, and a lot of the music that inspired [them], and just this general culture of sound in that time period that was really larger-than-life in an anthemic, positive way. These songs could be at the end of films that were really, really beautiful and said a lot. That actually ended up being a song called 'I Wish You Would' which is going to be on her album. We first worked on that song together and realized we kind of have a good thing. Taylor: “This is a song I did with Jack Antonoff, and Jack is one of my friends and so we were hanging out and he pulled out his phone and goes "I made this amazing track the other day. It's so cool, I love these guitar sounds." And he played it for me and immediately I could hear this finished song in my head, and I just said "Please, please let me have that. Let me play with it, like send it to me" And so he sent it to me and I was on tour and this was me playing the track on my laptop recording me singing the vocal into my phone and it ended up being a song called "I Wish You Would", because Jack wrote back and said "I love that".”

June 7, 2013: At the CMA fest, Taylor is asked if she's started writing for her next album yet

“It's starting, all the anxiety is starting and when the anxiety starts, then the writing happens right afterward, usually. Um, so, yeah, I basically... I like to, I like to write for about two years before I'm finished with an album because I... at this point I kind of know that whenever I write in the first year is going to get thrown away, because, I'm going to like it, but it's going to sound a little bit like the last project I had, and the second year usually ends up sounding like the next project. So I think at this point, at this point I feel like staying the same is the easy way to go but it's not the way that I want to go, creatively. I think you need to challenge yourself, I think you need to change up your influences, I think you need to be inspired by different things that you've been inspired by before, and, uh, y'know, It's harder to call people you don't know, and it's harder to think of topics you haven't covered and think of new ways to say old emotions that everyone feels, but, that's the goal at this point."

June 20-21, 2013: Taylor and Selena Gomez hang out, and Taylor potentially writes Wildest Dreams.

July 15, 2013: Taylor gives a brief interview to Rolling Stone

“The floodgates just opened the last couple weeks,” she says of the songwriting process. “I’m getting to that point where I’m irritating to be around because I’ll be with you for half the conversation and then the second half of the conversation I’m clearly editing the second verse of whatever I’m writing in my head.” “I really loved collaborating [on Red],” she says. “You work with a lot of different people and you find the people you have this dream connection with in the studio. I know those people and I know the ones I want to go back to. But I also have a really long list of the people I admire and I would really love to go and contact. So that’s kind of where that is.” “I think that the idea of having a different approach to every single one of my albums is so exciting to me. I never want to make the same record twice. Why do it? What’s the point? It’s so overwhelming that when you’re starting a project there are such endless possibilities if you’re willing to evolve and experiment. If you’re willing to become a different version of yourself, you can really go anywhere with it. And that’s kind of where I am. The kind of the laboratory experimental stage of really catching onto a new thing that I’m liking.”

July 18, 2013: Taylor unfollows the three backup dancers that left her tour for Katy's, meaning Bad Blood was likely written sometime between July and November 2013.

Sweeter Than Fiction: Summer 2013 (Speculation)

Taylor wrote this one over email, and then it was recorded in New York (partially in Jack's living room, partially in an actual studio)

August 25, 2013: Taylor and Selena Gomez hang out at the VMAs, and Taylor potentially writes Wildest Dreams.

August 25, 2013: Taylor gives a brief interview on the VMAs red carpet

"But I think [songwriting is] about to start to kick into full gear. I'm about to go into the studio. It's about to get really intense."

Out Of The Woods: September 14 2013 (Inferring)

On September 14, Fun cancelled their show. Taylor was likely either flying to or from Charlottesville, where she had a show for the Red Tour. Jack: "When I did the track for Out of the Woods, which is a Taylor song that I'm really proud of, there was some issue at a venue and our show was canceled that night and I didn't have my stuff, I had left it on the bus, so I only had these old samples on what was on my laptop, and caught up that 'oh oh'' thing, and I only had one drum kit on there, and these dumb little things [sometimes turn into a great song]" Jack: "So 'Out Of The Woods' was the third thing we worked on together, and probably the easiest. I sent her the track for it, and she sent back a voice note with the verse and chorus in what felt like five seconds. And it was just perfect. It's eerie how similar it is to what the final product is." Taylor: "This is a track that Jack Antonoff sent me, and I was actually on a plane, I got it and I got on a plane and I'm listening to it, and I'm just like listening to it and mumbling melodies cause the song came to me immediately like, in full [...] I think what I should start by playing you, is when I got the track, what I sent him like an hour later, and it is, me.. um, me singing what came to me, which ended up being the finished version of the song, or at least really close to it."

September 20, 2013: In a brief interview with USA Today, Taylor says she plans to work on her next album between the next few legs of the Red Tour

"I’ll be in the studio, figuring out what comes next. I really like to take two years to make a record, and I’ve been writing and doing stuff for the last year. This is kind of the year that it goes into overdrive, and it’s all I think about and I become obsessive over it and I’m hard to talk to"

September 22, 2013: Taylor gives an interview to New York Magazine where she talks about her plans for TS5

These days, Swift is thinking a lot about her next record. While on the Red tour, she’d been writing songs and stockpiling ideas: reams of lyrics, thousands of voice memos in her iPhone [...] she plans to spend much of 2014 writing and recording the new album, a prospect she finds exhilarating and terrifying. “I worry about everything. Some days I wake up in a mind-set of, like, ‘Okay, it’s been a good run.’ By afternoon, I could have a change of mood and feel like anything is possible and I can’t wait to make this kind of music I’ve never made before. And then by evening, I could be terrified of the whole thing again. And then at night, I’ll write a song before bed.” Swift hopes to collaborate with new songwriters and producers. But she planned to begin, she said, by heading back into the studio with Max Martin and Shellback. “I want to go in with Max and Johan first, just to figure out what the bone structure of this record is going to be. “I have a lot of things to draw from emotionally at the moment. But I have to draw from them with a different perspective than on Red. I can’t say the same things over and over, you know? I mean, I think it’s just all the more important that I don’t ever allow myself to coast. At the same time, there’s a mistake that I see artists make when they’re on their fourth or fifth record, and they think innovation is more important than solid songwriting. The most terrible letdown as a listener for me is when I’m listening to a song and I see what they were trying to do. Like, where there’s a dance break that doesn’t make any sense, there’s a rap that shouldn’t be there, there’s like a beat change that’s, like, the coolest, hippest thing this six months—but it has nothing to do with the feeling, it has nothing to do with the emotion, it has nothing to do with the lyric. I never want to put things in songs just because that might make them popular, like, on the more rhythmic stations or in dance clubs. I really don’t want a compilation of sounds. I just need them to be songs.”

September 28-October 5, 2013: Taylor and Selena Gomez are in the same city, and Taylor potentially writes Wildest Dreams.

October 12, 2013: Taylor gives an interview to the Associated Press

Swift: I think the goal for the next album is to continue to change, and never change in the same way twice [...] How do I write these figurative diary entries in ways that I’ve never written them before and to a sonic backdrop that I’ve never explored before? It’s my fifth album, which is crazy to think about, but I think what I’m noticing about it so far is it’s definitely taking a different turn than anything I’ve done before. AP: You said recently you’ve been working on songs for the new album for about six months. What can you tell us about what you have planned? Swift: It’s too early to tell who are going to be my predominant collaborators, but I do know that my absolute dream collaborators were Shellback and Max Martin on the last project. I’ve never been so challenged as a songwriter. I’ve never learned so much. I’ve never just been so excited to show up to the studio every day, just because you never know what we’re going to put together. I’ll bring in ideas and they’ll take such a different turn than where I thought they were going to go, and that level of unexpected spontaneity is something that really thrills me in the process of making music. ... What if we did this? What if we made it weirder? What if we took it darker? I love people who have endless strange and exciting ideas about where music can go."

October 14, 2013: At the NSAI, Taylor talks about reinventing herself for different albums

"I’m making my 5th record now, so I think you have to change things up, you have to explore different corners of music as much as you can. Cause I really, it’s been a big goal of mine to never make two albums that sounded the same. I really want my fans to be able to be like "Oh that song? Clearly that's from the Fearless album", "No that one, that one was from Red" and so I’m in the process of doing that thing all over again for my 5th album and it’s amazing to be in the studio and to be songwriting again, and be honored for songwriting tonight"

Blank Space: October 26, 2013 (Inferring)

It looks like she’s wearing the same outfit in this behind the scenes footage and these candids Taylor: "I was going into write with Max Martin and Shellback, who are two of the primary collaborators on 1989, and I... was preparing all these things, and I, I think Blank Space was like the third thing I played them, and they just stopped and they were like "NO, this is the first thing we're working on today." [...] I had the idea for the chorus and I had the hook, but a lot of the verse was gibberish." Taylor (On what song took her the least amount of time to write): "Blank space, cause I'd written a lot of the lines down already in the year preceding the session"

October 29, 2013: Tweets "Sitting in the studio writing the next album (!!!!) and wanted to thank you for the American Music Award nominations!"

November 1 : While promoting Keds, Taylor is asked about her next album

"What I go through is going to be the story that I tell. I think lyrically, I always try to tell my fans exactly what’s happened to me in the last two years, and that’s the thing they can expect. Everything else, they won’t be able to expect. Having been in the studio with this one, I’m just like… oh, this is going to be fun"

Bad Blood: Fall 2013 (Speculation)

The backup dancer drama seems to have kicked off in mid-July. Given that it's produced by Max Martin and Shellback, and Taylor was in the studio with them pretty much non-stop from October-November, we can assume that it was recorded sometime in the Fall of 2013

New Romantics: Fall 2013 (Speculation)

Unfortunately, Taylor doesn't really talk about this song. Given that it's produced by Max Martin and Shellback, and Taylor was in the studio with them pretty much non-stop from October-November, we can assume that it was recorded sometime in the Fall of 2013

Wildest Dreams: Fall 2013 (Speculation)

Selena reportedly told a fan she was there when Taylor wrote this, and I've noted above all the times Selena could have been with Taylor in 2013 (Here's my personal ranking of how likely each date is). Given that it's produced by Max Martin and Shellback, and Taylor was in the studio with them pretty much non-stop from October-November, we can assume that it was recorded sometime in the Fall of 2013.

Wonderland: Fall 2013 (Speculation)

Another one Taylor just doesn't talk about all that often. Given that it's produced by Max Martin and Shellback, and Taylor was in the studio with them pretty much non-stop from October-November, we can assume that it was recorded sometime in the Fall of 2013

Nov 20, 2013: Taylor posted "While in the studio, I came to the realization that my bangs are long enough to use as a sleep mask on long flights. Then I remembered I don't ever use sleep masks on flights. So really, I just need a haircut"

November 25, 2013: Taylor and Scott Borchetta have a meeting to talk about her plans for TS5 and are both asked about the next album at the AMAs

Taylor: “We got a lot already. There are probably seven or eight [songs] that I know I want on the record. It’s really ahead of schedule for me. I’m just stoked because it’s already evolved into a new sound, and that’s all I wanted. And I would have taken two years to make that happen, but it just kind of happened naturally, so that’s all I could really ask for.” Scott Borchetta: "Well earlier today we got together and she played me seven new songs, and she’s just on fire. The level of desire and passion that she has just to keep getting better, she’s an artist that just really never wants to just say ‘Well okay this is good enough’. It’s always gotta be better. She’s in amazing creative place right now." By the end of November, Taylor had likely recorded This Love, All You Had To Do Was Stay, How You Get The Girl, I Wish You Would, Out Of The Woods, Blank Space, Bad Blood, New Romantics, Wildest Dreams, and Wonderland. That’s 10 songs total, 5 of which were likely recorded in the past two months, and 7 that had been made since Taylor and Jack had their conversation about 80s music in May.

Dec 21, 2013: Taylor briefly talks to Billboard about TS5

"I’m really loving collaboration right now [...] I see it as a bit of an apprenticeship. I want to be around people who love writing songs and have done it for years. Every time I’m in a studio I’m learning, like how to build a drum track, and getting a new perspective on things. It’s so thrilling to keep learning on your fifth album. As soon as [an album] comes out I’m figuring out what the next one will be. It’s gotten to the point where each one is a reinvention, which is what I like best. I like it when it sounds new and people don’t know where you’re going to go next."

Say Don't Go: Jan 1, 2014 (Confirmed)

Diane Warren: Warren, who typically writes on her own, says the two of them “sat down and wrote the song […] from scratch” during the last few days of 2013. She remembers being impressed with how specific Swift was with her lyricism and how considerate she was about how her fans might receive it. “She was very particular about how she said certain things. It was a really interesting experience. She gets her audience [...] She’s deeply aware of how her fans want to hear something. I can’t explain it, but that’s probably why she’s the biggest fucking star in the world.” Several days after writing the song together, they got into Warren’s office to record a demo, where Swift played it on her acoustic guitar. “We demoed it on New Year’s Day. And I’m a workaholic, and that’s fine for me,” she says. “But I remember being impressed that she did, too. Everybody’s on vacation, but she showed up.”

You Are In Love: Jan 2014 (Inferring)

This song is copyrighted for 2014. Taylor has said a few times that Clean, Shake It Off, and Style were the last songs written for the album, meaning You Are In Love was likely completed in January or early February. Given Taylor's busy schedule in late January and early February, I'd guess this was written at some point in early January. Furthermore, I'd guess it was sometime after the 9th, when she returned from looking at house in New York.

I Know Places: Jan 22, 2014 (Confirmed)

Taylor: "I sent this voice memo to Ryan Tedder because I'd always wanted to work with him, and finally we scheduled some studio time. So I always wanna be prepared, I wanted to send him the idea that I was working on before we went into the studio just in case he wrote back and said "I can't stand that, I wanna work on something else, think of something else" So I just sat down with the piano, put my phone on top of the piano and just kind of explained to him where I wanted to go with the song, how I saw the melody sitting in and we ended up recording the song the next day and it ended up being on the record called "I Know Places" So this was the voice memo that I sent to him the night before we ended up finishing the song"

Welcome To New York: Jan 23, 2014 (Confirmed)

Ryan Tedder: "I thought we were going to walk in and start something from scratch because that's what I was used to. Then she calls me and says, 'Is it cool if I already have an idea?' I said, 'Sure.' She said, 'I have this song, I'm obsessed with New York and I just moved there, I want to write an ode to New York because no one's done it in a long time.' And then she sent me a voice memo. She's like, 'I want it to sound like 1980s.' So the next day I brought in a Juno-106, which is a very 1980s keyboard and I literally programmed that entire song right in front of her. It was very much on the fly, and that song was done in about three hours. And I did the rest of the production I think later that week. I was in Switzerland on a tour bus, and I did four versions of 'Welcome to New York,' one of which I liked personally more, but the thing about artists is they become very obsessed with the demo. She was in love with the demo so no matter how hard I fought, she brought it back to the demo, so really what you hear is what I did on the first day."

January 26 2014: Dianne Warren says that she recently wrote a song with Taylor

"I worked with Taylor Swift on a great song [...] I'm excited about the [song] that we did, it's pretty cool Dianne in 2016: “I know [Swift] likes it, so hopefully it will see the light of day. I know she really likes the song. She didn’t want me to give it away, so hopefully that means she wants it.”

January 26 2014: Taylor loses Album of the Year at the Grammy's to Daft Punk. She tells a few different stories about what the rest of the night looked like for her-- in some she goes home alone, in some she has some friends over-- but in all of them, this is the night where she decides that she's gonna name the album 1989, and she's not going to let her label tell her to put any country songs on it.

Clean: Feb 9, 2014 (Confirmed)

According to Imogen Heap's blog post, Taylor had the first verse and chorus by the time they got into the studio, and then wrote the second verse and bridge during the session. Taylor's part was wrapped up in 9 hours, ending at 8pm, while Imogen stayed up until 4am because she didn't want to stop working on it. Taylor: ""Shake It Off" and "Clean" were the last two things we wrote for the record, so it shows you where I ended up mentally. “Clean” I wrote as I was walking out of Liberty in London. Someone I used to date— it hit me that I’d been in the same city as him for two weeks and I hadn’t thought about it. When it did hit me, it was like, ‘Oh, I hope he’s doing well’. And nothing else. [...] The first thought that came to my mind was – I’m finally clean." Imogen Heap: I was really writing the tiniest amount just to help her do what she does. I put some noises to [“Clean”], played various instruments on it, including drums, and anytime she expressed she liked something I was doing, I did it more. It was a really fun day. She recorded all her vocals [for “Clean”] during that one session. She did two takes, and the second take was it. We always thought she would probably re-record it, because we thought it can’t possibly be that easy. But after we lived with it for a few months, we felt it was great.

February 15, 2014: Taylor posts "It was a studio Valentines Day with Max and Johan!"

Shake It Off: Feb 15, 2014 (Confirmed)

Lover Diaries (From Feb 22): "This week I’ve been in the studio with Max and Johan every day and it has been the most creatively successful and fulfilling time. The first day, Johan just made a really up tempo drum beat because we decided we needed something UP and light. We worked at it for a few hours before I just started singing “shake it off, shake it off.” And then the best way I know how to describe it is that the chorus just fell out of the sky. It ended up being this song about doing your own thing even though haters are gonna hate, and you just have to dance to your own beat. We all went home and I wrote the first and second verses and brought them in the next day. We wrote this chanty cheer leader bridge that I absolutely LOVE. We spent all day doing vocals and the next day recording background vocals. I think it’ll end up being the first single and Max said it’s his favorite song he’s ever been a part of." Taylor: "The problem was, I had all these lyrics, and I didnt have, like... writing session was coming up and I'm just like "I'm not getting a melody, I'm dead, I don't know what I'm gonna do." The thought terrified me, so I just sorta sulked into the studio and I was like "Guys, I have like an idea but its like, lyric, but I... and I know the vibe I want-- I want it to start off and the second the song starts, I want it to be the song where like, if it's played at a wedding, and there's this one girl who hasn't danced all night at the reception, all her friends come over to her and there like "You have to dance, come on, you have to dance on this one!". That's what I wanted. So I was like "Shellback, can you just go to the drum kit and try to play that?" Taylor: "There's one thing that I've always said to Max, is like "I don't like horns" I just always had a thing about it, I was always like weirdly scared of it, or intimidated by horns, I don't know what it was? It's a weird, like, nerdy studio fear of mine. I was like "No, no horns!" and I don't.. I don't even know, I don't have a reason for it, I love songs that have horns on them, I was just like "I don't think I can pull off horns." Strange. But, he goes over to the mellotron and he starts playing this horn sound. I'm like "What are you doing. Don't do that." and he's like, "No, I think this is cool" and I'm like "No it's not cool, and where are your chorus chords, because, that, you're just playing three chords over and over again and I can't make a chorus out of them, why don't you go to like a chorus chord that starts off the chorus, where is the one, like why don't you go--" and then there was this moment, where I thought of the whole chorus, and it's over the chords that I had just told him are not "chorus chords", which is a ridiculous thing to say."

February 18, 2014: Taylor is photographed entering Conway Studios

Style: Feb 19, 2014 (Confirmed)

Niklas Ljungfelt (guitarist): I played on “Style,” a song I started with Ali Payami for ourselves. He was playing it for Max Martin at his studio; Taylor overheard it and loved it. She and Max wrote new lyrics. But I recorded the guitar on it before it was a Taylor song. It was an instrumental. I didn’t have a clue that Taylor would sing on it. The inspiration came from Daft Punk and funky electronic music. Taylor: I'm pretty sure after we finished this one I knew the record was done. Shake It Off and Style were the last two songs to be written for 1989.

March 2014: Taylor's interview with Glamour is published (likely conducted two months beforehand)

TS: Working on this album has been unbelievable [...] I'm already in love with it. It's so different. CL: What's the new sound? TS: On Red I did three songs with Max Martin Shellback [...] I think we'll be doing a lot more than three songs together on the next album [Laughs].

March 26, 2014: Taylor is photographed entering a music studio in New York

"Slut!": 2014 (Unknown)

Taylor: The song “Slut!” is a song we wrote for 1989 and in it, I kind of cheekily play on the discussions at that time of my life around my dating life. And that’s not the only time on 1989 that I’d done that, I’ve done that on “Blank Space” and when I came down to having to pick songs for the album, I think I though, “Okay, well, I’m going to choose ‘Blank Space’” and, unfortunately, had to make some tough decisions in terms of what to put on the tracklist. But I love this song because I think it’s really dreamy. And I always saw 1989 as a New York album, but this song, to me, was always California, and maybe that was another reason it didn’t make the cut, because sometimes, thematically, I just had these little weird rules in my head. But I’m so happy it’s finally going to be something you guys hear, because I have always been proud of it, I’ve always wanted it to come out into the world and now it is, so yay!

Suburban Legends: 2014 (Unknown)

Taylor hasn't talked about this song, and it was produced by Jack Antonoff, who she didn't schedule time in the studio with in the same way she did with Max Martin and Shellback, so there's not a lot to work with.

Is It Over Now?: 2014 (Unknown)

Similarly to Suburban Legends, Jack produced this, so there's no obvious point in time to point to. She has spoken briefly about it though. Taylor: “Is It Over Now” is a song I wanted to end the album with because I think it’s kind of a fun play on words of like, “Is the album over now?” I always saw this song as sort of a sister to “Out Of The Woods” and “I Wish You Would,” I kind of saw those songs as similar, so, unfortunately, when we were making these decisions of what to put on 1989 and what to leave behind, I had to make some tough choices, and now it doesn’t matter anymore because you guys are going to hear all the songs. I’m so happy this song is out. I really love the “let’s fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later,” that session, I just feel like head banging to every time it comes on. Hope you agree.

May 30, 2014: Taylor writes in her diary:

So a crazy story unfolded in the last 24 hours. Last night, I had this vivid dream where the photo I’d chosen for the album cover wasn’t good enough, intriguing enough, artful enough. It woke me up. I couldn’t shake it and it stayed with me all day. Because that nagging feeling I’d been pushing back for weeks was now confirmed in my gut … It wasn’t good enough. I went to the venue, mind racing, wondering if I’d have to do an entirely new photo shoot … I got to my dressing room with newer versions of the “cover.” I looked at it and felt nothing. The team pulled up this new scanned file of the Polaroids we had taken during the shoot. I saw within 10 seconds. The shot. The cover. It’s a Polaroid of me sitting against a beige wall with a blue seagull swear shirt on. You can see my red lips, but the photo cuts off my eyes. From some reason unknown to me, it’s the most intriguing photo I’ve seen. I think it’s the mystery of not seeing my eyes. Maybe it just looks effortlessly cool. The craziest moment came when something caught my eye. The cover photo is photo 13. I kid you not.

August 23, 2014: Taylor is photographed walking out of a studio in LA (Note: I can not find a place that specifies if this is a recording studio, dance, photography, radio, or television studio.)

Now That We Don't Talk: Summer 2014 (Speculation)

Seeing as Taylor said she didn't have time to figure out the production, I imagine this came fairly late in the process. Taylor has a habit of adding songs right up to the deadline-- with Folklore and Evermore, she added multiple songs a week before the album came out. The latest she added songs to albums while signed to Big Machine was September, though (both Forever & Always and So It Goes...), so I assume that's the absolute latest she could've added a song to 1989. Taylor: "Now That We Don’t Talk” is one of my favorite songs that was left behind, it was so hard to leave it behind, but I think we wrote it a little bit towards the end of the process and we couldn’t get the production right at the time. But we had tons of time to perfect the production this time and figure out what we wanted this song to sound like. I think it’s the shortest song I’ve ever had, but I think it packs a punch, I think it really goes in. For the short amount of time we have, I think it makes its point.

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#txt*#timeline*#taylor swift #OH MY GOD ITS OUT ITS OUT ITS OUT I'VE BEEN RESEARCHING THIS FOR THREE YEARS AND IT'S DONE #!!!!!#as always let me know if you want further sourcing on anything/if you spot a typo or something

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archibaldtuttle · 8 months ago

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Alien : Romulus - a 7/10 reason to stop making Alien films

This review will be spoiler-free

When I came out of the theater yesterday, after having gone through a viewing of Alien Romulus, I caught myself agreeing with my friends - this was pretty good!

And I am beyond poisoned about the Alien franchise since Ridley Scott got his grubby paws all over it with Prometheus. The only reason I made the effort to move my ass to the theater to see this one was because he wasn't directing (and also I didn't have to pay for it) (thanks sib).

I knew Alvarez from two of his previous films, the 2013 remake of Evil Dead and Don't Breathe. I am pretty mixed on both - they demonstrate solid filmmaking abilities and (in the case of Evil Dead), a deep respect for franchises he's adding to. However they are also a little heavy on the jumpscares for my taste, and in the case of Don't Breathe I just can't praise the film without having to mention that the third act twist is gross in an entirely unnecessary, shock-value way, that does nothing for the film thematically.

That did give me some hope for Romulus however, because that third act twist told me Alvarez likes talking about rape and impregnation. And contrary to Don't Breathe... that's right at home in Alien.

So what about the film then? It's good. Solid premise, I like that we're finally, finally, seven films in, seeing the planet-side society that births all those rundown spaceships. Good pair of main characters with on one side a demonstrably resourceful Rain and on the other a very nuanced look at the franchise's synthetics with Andy. The others are more forgettable but I can't blame that too much on the film - they're well characterized in a few short scenes and that's all I can expect really. The build-up is solid, the various ticking clocks and sources of tensions well established.

What I find particularly notable is the really good setpieces and the use of facehuggers in a way I've wanted to see for a long time. Very good physical effects supplemented by good to ok-ish CGI. The writing is very heavy-handed - I wish more people looked at what O'Bannon did with exposition before they write their own Alien scripts. I do give credit to Alvarez and his co-writer Sayagues for the cool concepts explored and the way they thread Andy's character exploration through them.

The editing is mostly blameless - I wouldn't call it great or even that good, especially with how hectic it gets during some more action-ey scenes, but you can tell Roberts isn't specialized or even used to horror films. I guess he took from his experience on Pressure which would explain a lot... The score is really good, one of the highlights of the film in my opinion - I've liked almost all I've heard from Wallfisch so I wasn't surprised to find out he did this one.

So why did I give this review a very baitey title. It became clear as I was watching the fourth, then the inevitable fifth act unfold, that we were, collectively, scraping the barrel on what can be done with Alien. Prometheus and Covenant, beyond the fact that they were garbage movies, were already trying desperately to find new things to do with the concept. Romulus succeeded, for the most part, in finding new ways to twist it into something interesting, something we hadn't seen before (or at least not entirely). And I'm pretty sure that's it.

I don't want more directors to spend months racking their brains to try and find three or more scene setups that haven't already been done in seven main films, two AVP films and countless video games, in order to string them together into a coherent 2 and a half hour flick. I don't think it's impossible, Alvarez clearly demonstrated that he could do it and I'm pretty sure other people could. But why waste so much time, talent and energy on a series that objectively does not need expanding upon?

I know why, it's because the current studio system is allergic to anything that doesn't have brand recognition. But I think it's sad. And I think it would be a lot more gracious to put an end to a franchise after a pretty good film that did all it could to honor its predecessors rather than try to keep squeezing more out of it until it turns into the horror version of Star Wars.

#film talk #alien romulus #alien #film review

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certifiablyinsanez · 8 months ago

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This post is dedicated to our favorite sexual sacrifice, Emberlynn Pinkle, and why she is an important character even if we never see her again. Let’s buckle in for a crazy character analysis of someone we’ve only seen for 4 minutes.

There are many facets of this short that hold importance, including but not limited to the mysterious pendant, any potential foreshadowing, parallels between Emberlynn and pre-Ozzie’s Stolas, etc. What I want to talk about is the character of Emberlynn herself and what is truly represents.

Many anti’s of the show are foaming at the mouth over her, particularly the fact that Emberlynn is a caricature of the Hellaverse fandom that was created specifically to make fun of us. Funnily enough, many of us who have been in actual fandom spaces are not unfamiliar with people like Emberlynn, and at some point, a fair number of us admit to being like her, which is the main thing I want to touch on.

People watering Emberlynn and the short down to a cheap shot at fandoms and fans of the show is intellectually lazy. It can be seen as a critique of peoples’ own biases considering many of us that have been in fandom spaces have done so for a long time. And it’s funny, because these people have been threatening to doxx fans, harm them, send messages to their bosses to get them fired, to schools so they’d lose scholarships, etc. The kind of people that would order a hit on us in hell…Many anti’s and people who are against cringe culture often participate in it unwittingly. Take for instance, the anti’s of the Hellaverse shows who dedicate entire blogs to picking apart everything from character interaction to even three second frames. They take over the tags associated with the fandom just so they can pump bitter content out, and are actively hostile when fans confront them over their weird behavior. Because fans of Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel are normally not the kind of people who would watch entire seasons, keep up on content and lore, or interact with actors and fandom over something they hate. We would just…not watch it and not interact. And it’s that kind of strange behavior that is intrinsic in fandom. Fandom spaces have forever had a dark side, that much is undeniable, but now more than ever there has been an influx of people unaccustomed and socially unequipped to participate and interact in the spaces that have been infesting it.

I have been in fandom spaces since 2013 and my first fandom was Hetalia. If you know you know. Many people in these spaces have been targeted for being “freaks” for years, but the areas where we have thrived, made friends and enjoyed ourselves was relatively untouched by the “normies”. That’s definitely changed in recent years, especially when the pandemic forced people who would normally socialize in other spaces come to ours. We all remember alt fashion blowing up in 2020 just for people to be finding entire wardrobes of it at goodwill not even 2 years later. And when they came in, they started adding rules and stipulations. They would allow themselves permission to interact with us weirdo outcasts, but only in a way that could give them plausible deniability later when they knew the trend wouldn’t last. They would enter a space that was nerdy and when furry iconography would show up they would whine about furries “making it weird” when it was already “weird”. They would dress and call themselves punk but still think it was important to listen to “both sides”. And when it comes to the Hellaverse, it’s popular, and entering the mainstream via Amazon picking up Hazbin, but if you’re not willing to be critical of its unsavory parts then you’re complicit in things like rape, violence, drug use, etc.

These people have infiltrated our community, which sounds extreme but when I remember it from my teen years vs now, I think these people genuinely would’ve combusted on sight. Like I said before, I was in the Hetalia fandom for many years. If you don’t remember, people were cosplaying as Germany and doing the Nazi salute at cons and concentration camps. It was bad. It was equivalent to our new blackface Alastor controversy. Back then, the fandom handled it ourselves. We all agreed that that was unacceptable behavior, and people would express disgust, but they were also productive. Fans would post about how we needed to realize that there was real history behind this show and that we needed to be mindful when participating in that environment. I saw many cosplayers altering their costumes to be more mindful. Germany cosplayers would refuse to wear iron cross, which isn’t even technically solely fascisitic in nature, but did it anyway because it was seen as respectful. I’ve seen a resurgence of the fandom on tiktok recently and all of us are allowing ourselves to enjoy it, because for years we had to pretend that we were stupid weirdos for liking it to begin with. Fandom has to allow itself to be cringe again, as it has been affected by people that are in an echo chamber of self righteousness and acceptability.

Getting back to Emberlynn, I have hardly ever seen a take off of a character like this. Even when it was shown that Baxter was coming in season 2 of Hazbin I saw maybe a handful of fan arts and videos. But Emberlynn has EXPLODED. I watched the short when it had been out for only 26 minutes, and within the hour my feeds across all social media were full of her.

I genuinely think that it’s because she is the epitome of fandom, where all of our cringe has been rolled into one character. Her self insert name is literally a reference to old fandom. She’s a proshipper, a selfshipper, she gets into shipping wars and has been fighting with people online for almost a decade. She said the pendant was from an episode “569”, which is strange wording because episodes aren’t usually formatted that way in any sort of media, which could potentially mean that she’s watched over 500 episodes of Akuma no Otto. Her room is full of pornographic material, figurines, the BODY PILLOW. I mean come on. Her parents are fully aware that she watches hentai. She was upstairs moaning and crying while interacting with Blitz and being stabbed and her parents did not go up to check on her, nor think it was out of the ordinary. She is pastel goth, a subset of the gothic culture, and writes self insert fanfiction. She’s A MONSTERFUCKER. HELLO?? When everyone in the Hellverse is as hot as they are…come on. When she dies and goes to hell her sinner form has furry influences. All of us love her because even if we were never fully like her (ie stalkerish, obsessive), we’ve been like her in some way at some point, or even now. I write fanfiction. I’m part of alternative fashion and culture. I’ve been into cringe stuff for a while. I’m not necessarily super into furry stuff, but I love the suits, the artistry and even had an idea for an oc once. My profile pic is literally my Sinner OC.

Emberlynn is a return to form for the standard of fandom spaces and I think to those of us that truly embrace the lifestyle, it’s refreshing. She does not exist in the realm of acceptability; she’s fat, intense and unapologetic. And yet, she’s still super hot, funny, and entertaining. We don’t love her because she’s a respectable fan, we adore her because she’s insane. I’m a cofounder of a Facebook group about being fans of the Vees and we all agree that she would actually do well with Valentino, because that cutie needs some disrespectful eldrich cock ASAP lol. It’s refreshing, and even if we never see her again, I still find her completely relevant and interesting.

Emberlynn Light’ness Demonanya Pinkle, you are PRECIOUS.

#helluva shorts #helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #emberlynn pinkle #helluva boss emberlynn #Emberlynn Light’ness Demoanya Pinkle #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin memes #tumblr fyp #hellaverse #vivziepop #i love fandom #fandom

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dear-ao3 · 8 months ago

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new to f1 - can i ask for some team history? have red bull always been so dominant? how often do the cycles change??

yes yes ok So who’s dominant depends on a lot of things, drivers yea but mostly the car and who can make the regulations work for them. you can be the best driver but if you’re in a shit box you’re Fucked.

so presently red bull is dominating, max won in 2021 but they properly started dominating in 2022. this was cause of the big change in regulations mostly.

they change the regulations all the time but big changes are every few years for a variety of things: driver safety sometimes, making the cars have a lesser environmental impact, making things just plain more interesting, putting people on a level playing field etc etc. the last batch of regulations that caused mercedes fall from grace was i believe the cost cap. previously you could spend whatever the hell you wanted on the car and everything else. and Now there is a cost cap. this was done to try and bring the teams all closer together because previously it was all the top four or so teams that had all the money and would win things and then the back marker teams were just there. i don’t remember offhand what the cost cap is but i do know you can’t spend more than that each year on Everything (including crash repairs i’m Pretty sure) which keeps things interesting. anyway that and the other changes that got implemented in 2021 (?) caused red bulls rise to dominance.

mercedes had been dominating before then and won the constructors (team championship) from 2014-2021 (max won the drivers in 2021) and lewis hamilton won in 14 and 15 and then 17-20. nico rosberg won in 2016 (lewis’s teammate. he then retired after his first win. no one has ever done it like him and no one ever will again but we do Not have time for that). mercedes i believe only became a team in 2010 (?) they had been on the grid previously like Years ago but made a return in 2010 and had a few shit years before, surprise surprise, a regulation change went in their favor and they built a rocket ship.

prior to mercedes it was back at red bull. they won in 2010-2013 both constructors and drivers with sebastian vettel winning the drivers championships all 4 years. and i’m pretty sure it was another regulation change that caused them to rise to the top. red bull had been doing Okay prior to then but they i think only entered the grid in 2004(????) after buying the jaguar team

prior to 2010 there were several years where there wasn’t really multi year dominance by any one team.

jenson button won in 2009 with brawn (???) and that was a surprise to everyone especially the team and turns out they just so happened to build a good car that year.

lewis hamilton won at mclaren in 2008 at the end of a very very close season. i believe he won in the last race and it was a matter of a few points separating him and felipe massa at ferrari

2007 was won by kimi raikkonen at ferrari in yet another close season, lewis hamilton nearly won this season and it was his rookie season

then we had two years of fernando alonso at i think it was renault (which is now alpine) in 2005 and 2006.

prior to that was the real era of dominance from 2000-2004 with michael schumacher at ferrari

prior to that i’m not really sure of the teams and i’m in a car and not fact checking Any of this so i could be totally wrong about what i’m saying lol. but there were several years of williams dominance in the 90s and mclaren again had another few years i Think.

anyway. to answer your question. yes there are eras of dominance but it is far more interesting when it’s not because then multiple people are winning the races. like this season is the first time since 2021 there’s a proper title fight (at least for the constructors) since 2021 and we’ve had something like 7 i think different race winners, which hasn’t happened in A While

i hope this was helpful? if not feel free to ask me more questions

#not a tag #from saph #f1 #i feel like daniel ricciardo in the championship ep of grill the grid lol

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oswildin · 7 months ago

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Debated making this, but oh well, here we are…

I rewatched the Loki series.

Going to add here quickly that I have been a fan of Loki since 2012/2013, and I personally relate to his character for a multitude of reasons.

Now, I enjoy the series, but I wish they made it more character focused than they had. I do feel like they prioritised story in terms of making it fit the next phase over exploring and expanding on Loki’s character to some degree (a lot of it was surface level).

For example, I would’ve loved to have seen:

Exploring Loki’s Jotun heritage, even if it was a variant of him in the void that embraced it, dropped his aesir form, a conversation between Loki and his Jotun variant as they explain why they chose to embrace it, giving a different view to maybe how our Loki sees himself/the Jotuns. If ‘What If’ could have a frost giant Loki variant, why couldn’t the show?

Expanding upon what happened to Loki during that year after his fall from the Bifrost. The reason for this is self explanatory really, it would add more lore/depth to his experiences/actions during the Avengers. Maybe address the trauma he has from it.

Loki fighting with his so-called ‘desire’ for a throne more. By this I mean, I felt he flipped pretty quickly from his plan to overthrow the time keepers to just following along with Sylvie - which is fine, but I kinda thought there would be more push back from him. I get it was a life or death situation and Loki’s whole thing is ‘survival’, but it would’ve added to their dynamic and the fact the writers clearly wanted to push how Sylvie was different to other Loki’s.

Exploring Sylvie’s backstory more. It really did feel like it was an afterthought, which is a shame. I suppose they left it ambiguous for certain reasons, but I think they should’ve had more flashback scenes of what Sylvie could remember. I think it would’ve helped people understand and relate to her more. (I do love her though).

Actually showed Loki’s gender fluidity & shapeshifting ability more. Again, self explanatory really & important to his character, plus the whole implied only ‘woman variant’ thing with Sylvie should’ve not been a thing, like at all.

They should’ve given Loki more time to process everything. This show really should’ve had 8 episodes each season, I get that’s not the writers fault, likely Disney/marvel’s doing. Perhaps then the shift in his character wouldn’t have felt so jarring, especially considering he’s 2012 Loki. I do agree they wrote him as if he was Ragnarok!Loki, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it just felt jarring considering the last we saw of this Loki was Avengers. But then I could also argue that maybe he thought ‘what’s the point of it’ because the TVA know everything about him, but I digress.

Used Sylvie more in S2. It did feel like they didn’t quite know what to do with her, her and Loki clearly just needed to sit and discuss the citadel fight, but the closest thing we got is in EP3 where Sylvie says ‘this is all rather familiar, isn’t it?’, referencing their different/opposing opinions on the TVA/He Who Remains. And also maybe the pie room scene, but it’s very vague/not directly addressed.

Explored the fact that Mobius is not a good guy more. Because, he isn’t. And that’s okay. To me, the whole point of the show is based on Loki’s quote of ‘no one good is ever truly good, and no one bad is ever truly bad’, and whilst they do reference Mobius’ own morally grey actions/traits, they don’t particularly make it clear and most just see him as this ‘happy go lucky old man who likes pie and loves Loki variants’. In fact, I actually really liked the scene where Sylvie confronts him - which is a very unpopular opinion to have it seems, lol.

Delved into the psychology of Loki further than surface level/what we already know about him. Yes, we know he’s the God of Mischief. Yes, we know he isn’t evil. Yes, we know he is redeemable. Yes, we know he’s cunning, manipulative and selfish. We get that he projects this ‘illusion’ of himself, but it was only really mentioned in S1 EP1, maybe slightly EP2, before it’s never really mentioned again. I suppose S2 does this to a degree with the bar scene and EP5 of S1 in the time cell with Sif - also I think they tried to take the narcissist angle from the pov that it’s because of his low self-esteem as to why he needs validation and it’s a defence mechanism, but they didn’t particularly make that clear and made it seem like he just thinks highly of himself.

I know it seems like I have a lot of issues with the show, and I do, but I still enjoyed it. It’s okay to be critical of a piece of media and still enjoy it.

I do prefer S2 to S1, mostly because I prefer the direction they took it in and whilst I, of course, wanted better for Loki, I can’t deny S2 EP6 is a stunning finale. I sobbed so hard during the ending and still feel the grief that I actually lost someone I knew personally. But I also have hope that this means Loki is now a main player in the next phase (am I delusional? Maybe).

I enjoyed the dynamics, the back and forth/chemistry, the story was interesting, the set & costume design, the acting, the directing/colour grading, the music (Natalie Holt, you are genius), the emotions, the fun, the characters…

So this is not a hate post by any means, I will once again state, I enjoyed the show. But, I do have issues with it, and that’s okay too.

Please, dni if you’re just going to be argumentative or confrontational. I also don’t want to hear that just because I enjoyed the show that I’m ‘not a real fan’ lmao. I’m sorry, but I’ve been a Loki stan for over a decade, and I will not have someone tell me I’m not a real fan because of a piece of fictional media. Also, please do not mention anything regarding ships on this post, I do not care for it because it always ends up in arguments and I am a multishipper so I don’t tend to fight for any side. Thank you! :) /gen

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki series #media critique #marvel #mcu #loki disney+

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rockofeye · 1 month ago

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Dry Bones Breath

I have been attempting to write this particular post for months. I have innumerable drafts full of emotion and wrought feelings and explaining, and none of them have ever felt right to post. Maybe two months ago, I gave myself permission not to write this. I felt like I was pushing too hard to birth something that had yet to be fully formed, and so I put it to the side and went on with life. I jotted notes when something bubbled up, and I otherwise didn't think about it or look at it. I stopped expecting myself to be able to produce something when the moment for that something had clearly not yet arrived.

In retrospect, I think I was waiting to feel right about it. I don't like to write angry, so I have waited not to be angry all the time. I have waited to not be tearful when writing about particular aspects. I have waited for my process of writing to be calm and not a frenzied pounding at my keyboard. I have waited to not feel like I was writing to appease others or in fear of others or what might be said about what I write. I have waited for the burden of not writing to feel heavy but not reactionary, in that I know I need to set this down for my own betterment but that the burden is not a bag of angry cats that I need to throw into the river to feel a little peace. This past week, I have finally felt like I have arrived in that place, so here we are.

On November 26, 2024, I submitted a letter resigning my membership in Sosyete Nago. As I have written extensively on my journey with and in Sosyete Nago, it feels important that I write about my exit, how and why I made that decision, and, to some extent, where I go from there. I have always been as transparent as I know how to be with my journey and process, and I feel that it would be dishonest not to be transparent here, too. I owe myself transparency and speaking the truth as I understand it and have experienced it, and I owe transparency to people who have held faith with me through this blog--co-religionists, siblings, friends, clients, seekers, curious folks, and more.

To be perfectly blunt, I really would love to be able to feel like I could just wash my hands of this and keep moving forward without getting into this incredibly painful process, but I can't. That feels like lying and also like tacit agreement with a whole of things that I really don't agree with. So, I write.

I was active in Sosyete Nago for eleven and a half years. I attended my first fet at Manbo Maude's house in Boston in November 2013 and completed my kanzo/initiation in July 2016 in Jacmel. The first time I missed a fet kay in the US was the fet Danbala that was only a few weeks after I gave birth and the last fet I attended was fet Kouzen this past spring. I was committed to being present and a part of the community because that was both something I was directly taught by my godfather, in that I had been given a lot of grace in the djevo and the appropriate response to that was to show up and put my hands in the work, and because I felt strongly that I didn't make all the sacrifices I did to get where I was to not be of use and to not learn anything. I spent literal years standing or sitting in a particular place in the temple in the US and the temple in Haiti, either actively helping the fets unfold or absorbing what was happening and allowing the lwa to speak to me through the drums and the salutations and my observations.

I didn't join Sosyete Nago with the intent to leave, at all. This was a topic at the ceremonies in Haiti leading to my kanzo; more than one spirit asked me if I was going to take what I would learn and what I would be given and leave. When I said no, I meant it. I went to Haiti to do the work that I desperately needed and that I had promised to do, with no other agenda. I told myself that if I hated it, I didn't have to go back but I never had any plans of walking away. That was a big deal for me, because I am not a joiner. I do not find it easy to trust people and I certainly did not want to forge any lasting ties with any person or community. The lwa had other plans, though, and so I jumped in with both feet and trusted that they would keep me whole.

Over the years, I learned a lot about developing as a spiritual person from Manbo Maude. I learned about prayer and how that can really change things, I learned a set of ethics and principles that have governed how I interact with world as a spiritual person and a priest, and I learned how to work my lwa to have them teach me themselves. I built my life on that foundation of principles and prayer and relationship with my spirits, and that is what I have always (and still) rely on.

I utilized all of this in community as well, and community is hard. There was a lot of learning and reflection on my part, and I did my best to keep up. I have always fallen back on the primary tool of discernment that Manbo Maude taught me; that of watching and waiting in patience. In practice, that means when I have a dream I don't understand, I don't necessarily push for meaning but I put it on the shelf and then watch what happens in my life. In relationship with community, it's the same; if I hear something I disagree with or see something that doesn't sit well with me, I sit with it and I watch and I wait and I'll probably pray about it, too. Sometimes it's something that flows along and I don't feel that I need to bring it up, and other times, it feels like something that needs to get brought up, so maybe at some point I will choose to say something. Often, I just continue to watch because not everything needs to be said by me, I don't have to be right, and sometimes the price of speaking instead of remaining silent is high.

One of the first outings my husband and I took our kiddo to was going to Sosyete Nago's Fet Kouzen this past spring. We both wanted people we cared about to meet the baby, and we wanted the baby to see the lwa. My mother, Manbo Maude, had not yet met the baby despite multiple invitations/asks from me; it was important to me that the person who had held the spot of mother in my life for years meet the baby that had been hoped for, but it didn't pan out. I stopped asking because I don't press people for things when they demonstrate they don't want it. At the time, I told myself that she was just busy, but in retrospect there was more going on.

In fact, after the fet things kind of blew up. My husband was unhappy about something and after I pressed him on it, it came out that statements had been made before the fet by an elder sibling of mine that the baby could not be his because it did not resemble him both in looks and in skin tone, because the baby had arrived early and the timeline didn't make sense, and because we had struggled quite a bit in our relationship once my husband arrived in the US so there had been presumed openings for me to cheat on my husband and try to baby trap him.

This was shocking and incomprehensible to me because why would anyone choose to be that poisonous and, frankly, that much of an asshole about a baby? And why would someone feel so free to speak about one of their siblings in our mother's house in front of our mother? I asked my husband to go through with me what happened multiple times and to tell me who else was present. I spoke with other people who witnessed this and had them go through the blow-by-blow with me as well. It seems that an innocent and funny joke was made about the kiddo, which is fine and not upsetting to me, and it seems that this person saw that as an opening and decided to really go in on our child with some really hateful stuff.

I didn't and don't understand why someone would be so hateful, and I didn't understand why that conversation would be allowed to stand. I sat with it and decided that I would speak to my mother about it after she returned from Haiti because, for me, respect is an action word and because of my respect for her I was not going to add to what she needed to do before going to Haiti in July. I convinced myself that there had to be some logical explanation for all these things.

In retrospect, that was pretty naive of me. What happened next was pretty awful: this terrible bit of poisonous gossip went everywhere, because people talk and something so egregious and outright mean is not going to stay quiet and particularly when gossip is held as a sort of social token or payment.

When I say everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE. I watched my husband field three or four or more phone calls every day for WEEKS about this. His friends in Haiti, the US, and beyond called to ask what in god's name was going on in Boston that Sosyete Nago would be saying these things. His family heard about it and I listened to him explain to his son what was going on. His spiritual mother and his spiritual children heard about it. I had spiritual clients coming to me and asking if I was okay because of what they were hearing. My siblings in Haiti and the US heard about it.

It was awful and humiliating and at no point did my mother reach out to me and express any concern about what had been said or what was being said. I didn't believe anything that had originally been said was out of actual concern, as a person who cared about my husband and had real concern that I was so unprincipled as to cheat on him and pass off someone else's baby as his would have pulled him aside and had a private conversation. Instead, the goal of these kind of statements and the intentional use of gossip as a way to hurt someone was to hurt my husband and hurt me. There is no other reason someone would stoop so low as to speak on a child that way.

But, I told myself I would address this later. I was busy with the baby and told myself, over and over that there had to be something else going on because why would my mother tolerate something so virulent and not speak with me about it?

Then, July happened. Almost immediately after the passing of Dana, both my husband and I independently heard rumors that someone had passed away. The rumors were all over the place: someone had passed in the djevo, someone had passed during a ceremony, someone in the lakou had passed. Both of us said the same thing to people who brought those rumors forward: there is no way that someone would have passed in any of the manners described because Manbo Maude would not continue on with dances and celebratory ceremonies. Both of us stood on the fact that we knew Manbo Maude to be a generally caring and sensitive person who just wouldn't do that. I confirmed this to myself by seeing clips of happy people during fetes and house members who were present sharing photos of themselves, promoting businesses, etc.

When I found out almost a week later that we were both terribly wrong, I was shocked. I was beyond shocked, honestly. I don't know if there is a clear way to describe how truly flattened I felt to hear that someone had passed, that the someone who had passed had just emerged from the djevo, and not one thing had paused. I genuinely could not believe it, because how could something so significant and serious as a brand new manbo passing happen, celebrations continue, and the children of the house not be informed? I honestly felt like I had been steamrolled and it made me viscerally ill. One of the first things I did after getting the news from a sibling and being shown memorial posts on Facebook was vomit.

In the immediate aftermath of this bomb dropping, a lot unfolded. Several of my siblings named this event as the straw that broke their backs and reported to the community allegations and experiences of theirs that were at best extremely concerning and at worst extraordinarily problematic before leaving the sosyete. I began asking questions of others; had they heard about these allegations (because I hadn't)? What had been done to address and rectify them? I was told that these allegations were known and that no one was really sure what had concretely been done.

A little more than a week after Dana's passing, a group of elder children of Sosyete Nago was convened to presumably try to help manage these unfolding crises. A group call was scheduled within a day or two, and some of us assembled to try and address these situations. When the call began, I was direct and to the point: a public statement acknowledging Dana's passing needed to be made immediately and all public activities of the sosyete should be suspended for a full year, including the suspension of kanzo, out of respect for the passing of our sibling and to do the work to address the allegations and failings of our community. For me, this was the minimum that we could do to try and repair what was quite broken in the moment.

This was noted, but not received well. The initial reaction was that suspending kanzo would be a devastating financial blow to the house, and I found that as the immediate response troubling. Equally as troubling to me was a general chastisement of the group that we had not inquired as to how Manbo Maude was feeling and doing. That did not sit well with me and I said so: someone had died and as houngans and manbos our first responsibility is to the dead and the community that was both reeling with the loss and deeply fractured due to information and experiences coming to light.

After the call, it became clear those of us in this group of elder children had been placed in a position of trust but were not trusted. Questions were asked over and over and remained unanswered, like if the desounen had been completed, what Dana's baptism name was so she could be appropriately prayed for as she deserved, and specific questions addressing some of the rumors circulating. When I pressed for Dana's name so I could pray for my sibling and call her as the lwa called her, the group was told that the name was being kept private to keep Dana safe. The implication that her siblings were not safe people was a blow.

A continuing blow was the lack of public statement that many of us asked for over and over, both for the dignity of Dana and for the well-being of the sosyete and its members. We were continually told that multiple lawyers had been consulted and all said not to make any public statement, but how would simply acknowledging the passing of a child of the house be held as negative?

The situation continued to spiral and many of us continued to ask for action, and shared how we were personally being affected by this. For myself, I had clients pull back from me for fear of association without further information. I was threatened privately and dragged publicly, and I had just signed a contract for a book in June that was immediately suspended and probably will never see the light of day. When I shared some of this, it was responded to with a chastisement of how could we be thinking of things like this in the middle of this tragedy? Well, how was it possible then that the sosyete went forward with celebrations hours after Dana passed? There was never a response to my own sharing of what was happening for me, nor was there any response to what other siblings shared.

Folks were saying Dana had been killed or sacrificed and her death covered up, and why wouldn't they say this when the actions of the house certainly seemed suspicious? I do not believe for one minute Manbo Maude harmed Dana, and yet the handling of her death certainly left ample room for those rumors to seem very believable, which rests solely on the inaction of the sosyete.

Sosyete Nago seemed cold, callous, and cruel. There was no noting of the death of a house member who had just finished her initiation, but there were plenty of photos and video clips of smiling children of the house enjoying fets and relaxation time in Haiti, posing for photos in their special outfits, and promoting business opportunities. How would anyone think anything different when Dana passed in the morning and a kouche yanm ceremony began in the afternoon? How could this be seen as anything but an endorsement that Dana's death was unimportant?

Community meetings were held and I chose not to attend. My questions had not been answered in a more private forum so what would be the benefit to me of attending a larger forum where me asking them again would surely be viewed as troublemaking?

I continued to be disturbed by what I was seeing and hearing from these meetings and in general among the sosyete. There were statements made about how funeral rites are done that were in direct opposition to what I was taught by Manbo Maude, that the kanzo was totally normal, and excuses continued to be made as to why celebrations began immediately after Dana's passing--people had paid for spiritual work to be done so things had to be done, Dana's parent had given their okay for things to continue, the recent initiates gave their consent for things to continue, and, perhaps most disturbing, once you make a promise to spirits, you can never change that. For all the effort that was made to convince people that the right thing had been done, it hit wrong.

I was floored when it was said that promises to spirit can never be changed. This is something that applies directly to responsibilities when folks serve lwa achte, or bought spirits (sometimes called djab or pwen achte, among other things). Sosyete Nago has always represented itself as fran Ginen, meaning only lwa Ginen are served and not lwa achte. As I was taught and Manbo Maude had taught publicly over and over, lwa Ginen can always be negotiated with. You can always go back and say 'hey, it's not going to work out as I had planned, here's what I can do now until I can do what I promised'. That can be done for whatever significant reason; maybe you didn't get a chance to assemble all the money you needed or you had a big emergency you needed to take care of...or someone died.

Further, if we are to believe that spirits like Danbala, the spirit most associated with purity who cannot be served in the presence of death, and Ogou, the father of all the children of Sosyete Nago, and Ezili Danto, the fierce mother who loves her children, cannot be negotiated with after the tragic death of a newly born child, then these spirits are cruel and are not worthy of our service and attention. What parent would be angry that a celebration was suspended to mourn the death of their child?

My concerns continued to multiply:

Brand new initiates not yet finished with their eprev/period of restriction were helping with the work of death, which is strictly forbidden and can have long-lasting consequences, up to and including untimely death. I pushed back on this and asked why the principles all of us were governed with were somehow suspended in the aftermath of this tragedy and why these new initiates were not being sufficiently protected. Restrictions are put in place for a reason; while death is a natural part of life, it is a massive spiritual contamination for us, especially directly after kanzo. The response from a house member was that these new initiates had already struggled, so what did it matter? What?

Statements were made in house meetings that were extremely troubling, such as the assembled group of people on a call being the ones who were really invested in the sosyete, and, after a period of telling people what was happening next, a statement to the affect of 'if this doesn't resonate with you, let us know and we can part amicably'. Regardless of intent, this felt pretty targeted towards those of us who had spoken up and called for responsibility and adherence to the principles we had been taught. Additionally, with the traditional lakou structure of an initiatory parent and a family of children/initiates, how does this speak to the responsibility of a parent to a child? Much has been said about the contract and waiver that house members sign, but what has been unsaid is that responsibilities and expectations in relationships and contracts are not only on one side.

Instead of moving to immediately deal with allegations reported to the community, other activities were undertaken, like seating the board of a nonprofit. I found it upsetting that this was the response, instead of caring for community members. My understanding as of this writing is that none of the allegations have been addressed and no reparative action undertaken.

I sat with all of this, and it felt pretty awful. I didn't like what it said about the community I was a part of, and I didn't like how I felt as a part of it. I felt specifically that the statements being made about commitment and exiting if you don't like what is happening were incredibly divisive and, to me, dangerous. I was reminded of my history as a young person who was a part of a dangerous, cult-like religious group where statements like that and expectations around caring for the leader led to some places that were pretty dark. I didn't and don't know if that is what was happening there, but it felt like it and I spent a lot time on my own and with folks who care about me specifically trying to unpack that and look at what that meant for me and meant for the community.

I spent a lot of time metaphorically holding my head, because I felt like I had previously been blind to things that should have concerned me and because I felt like I was losing my mind. None of what was happening made sense and I couldn't find the community that I had previously committed to in the community that I was now a part of. I felt like a lot of this was a passive invitation to leave; why else would statements like this be made if it wasn't a line in the sand?

In the middle of all of that, grief. I did not know Dana well, but the grief for this situation was overwhelming. I was in tears more than I wanted to be over a life shortened and the feeling that this death did not have meaning because it had just been passed over by the community that Dana had given herself to. I questioned how this was just, and I wondered, to myself and to others, what would happen when I died. Would anyone stop to do for me what was necessary, or was it going to be business as usual?

Part of our humanity rests in how we care for our dead, because they are OURS. We are responsible for them in the moment of their death and in perpetuity. What we do and how we treat them and their death is a reflection of what we think of them and what we think of ourselves, and our treatment of them reflects deep truths about us as individuals and as community. As much as Dana belonged to her natural family, she belonged to us, too, and we failed her. Those who made the decision to continue on and embody a reality where her death made nothing pause--not even for a moment--needed to reckon with what that meant for Dana, for the community, and for themselves, and Sosyete Nago needed to reckon with what it meant to be part of a community that overlooked the death of one of its members.

Before my resignation, I saw none of that.

In the midst of this, I also was having a private, unrelated spiritual crisis. Just before Dana's passing, I had the opportunity to speak with a variety of the lwa. They were excited to see the baby, and they all told me something I wasn't expecting: they told me I had not been given the light necessary to do all my work as an asogweman. I wasn't entirely sure what that was, and said so. I was told to ask my mother, and to ask my mother why I had not been given that.

I am a curious person and investigated on my own. Manbo Maude was about to go to Haiti and there was already other discomfort for me, so I asked a few other asogwe I knew what that meant.

My siblings didn't know, but some other folks did and described a process and set of information communicated to each manbo or houngan asogwe as part of their formation that is foundational to the work of an asogwe. It was something that I had struggled with for years and years, and that I had been told nothing could be done about. I am being intentionally vague, but IYKYK. So, I resolved to do as I was told and ask my mother when there was an available time.

As the dust was forced into settling this fall, the children of Sosyete Nago were individually polled and each of us asked if we wanted to remain part of Sosyete Nago and work towards communal healing. I didn't really vibe with being asked if I wanted to stay, because, as I wrote earlier, my commitments were made long ago. When asked, I said that I made my commitments before but there were things that needed to be discussed. A time to talk was suggested, and I agreed.

Before this conversation with my mother, I spent a lot of time praying and sitting with my lwa. I felt unmoored, undermined, and pretty lost, and I didn't like where I thought the road was leading. I spent a lot of time praying for a positive outcome and for a glimpse of anything that would tell me that I was in the wrong or had outmaneuvered myself.

I also spent a fair amount of time expressing my displeasure to my lwa, with varying amounts of grace ranging from absolutely none at all to essentially weepily clinging to their legs. They were much more graceful in their responses than I was able to muster.

What turned out to be my last conversation with my mother did not go well, from my side. I spent a fair amount of time being shocked into silence and being both deeply worried and deeply sad in the same space.

The takeaways from our conversation were this:

It seems that initiates who would not otherwise know about specific information are supposed to ask to learn it. When I inquired about why I was not given the light and deliverance my title/rank indicated, the response I received was 'well, did you ask?'. Beyond the leap of logic it would take to reason out how someone is supposed to know what to ask without having been instructed in what the basic tools of their rank is, I had asked. I had asked multiple times in multiples settings over multiple years, on my own and in the presence of others, and the response I had consistently gotten was that I just needed to relax and let go, and that there was nothing that could be taught to me and no help I could receive.

Instead of being able to consider another viewpoint, experience, or conflicting information, betrayal and insidious behavior is considered foundational to any relationship or encounter that does not go as desired. For example, in discussing questions and concerns I had around particular rumors around Dana's passing, it was suggested I was speaking to people who were considered spies or betrayers. Instead of being able to consider what had to happen for someone who had invested multiple years and paid thousands of dollars for an initiation to immediately cut ties with the sosyete upon return to the US, it was stated that this person was a spy for others. I can't and don't see how someone would invest at least $8,500USD in fees alone to be a spy, and the inability or unwillingness to consider other information or extend empathy or curiousness to another viewpoint or experience.

Potential safety concerns were also included under the umbrella of betrayal or insidious behavior as well. When bringing up a concern about very specific rumors about purposeful contamination of food and water supplies in the lakou, that was labeled as a way to take Americans away from the lakou instead of entertaining if it was possible, what could be done to increase security/safety, and the reality that even rumor can make other people bold enough to act.

Gossip is considered truth and is used a social mechanism to create relationships, leverage relationships, or end them. When I brought up my concerns about what was said about child, it was very clear that what actual truth was never mattered, as my mother decided to act (or not act)based on what other people had said and never consulted me about what was being said or how I, her child, felt about it.

The place of betrayal within the community of Sosyete Nago seems to have become a central guiding principle and any relationship or situation that does not resolve in a way considered positive or that doesn't fit a predetermined idea of what it should be becomes betrayal. In our phone call, my husband become a focal figure in a narrative of betrayal that I didn't understand. When asking about why my child and my reputation as a person with principles was spoken about negatively, it was insisted (despite other persons being present relating differently) that it was my husband who stated he did not believe he was the father of our child, and I was told several times I didn't know the man I had married and similar would-be inflammatory things.

I will admit to having laughed at that, because it relied on events that were--again--based in gossip and didn't actually happen. But, further, my mother insisted that she had been forced to have my husband--a well known houngan who had worked for her and collaborated with her for at least fifteen years--in her home and her temple without her consent.

When I asked for clarification of what she meant by that and what had happened to create such a feeling of hostility, nothing was really communicated. Old issues that had been presumably settled years ago were brought back up as if brand new, and the only new event was an insistence that he did not greet her in public when he saw her at the airport. When I offered to bring him into the call to be able to clear the air and have direct communication, that was refused.

This was very confusing to me, as my mother, Manbo Maude, regularly called my husband starting from his arrival in the US in 2023 to help her with ceremonies she was holding, she commissioned him for a significant amount of tableau for a fet she was planning in Haiti, and she invited him to accompany her to Haiti this past summer. That trip did not end up happening, but it's hard for me to see where his presence was forced in her home and her community. These are also dangerous things to say in this political environment; my husband is a recent immigrant and rumors can lead to serious action at this time.

All of these things were incredibly unsettling for me, as this did not reflect how I have understood community and community relationships nor did it reflect how I had come to know Manbo Maude over the past 10+ years.

Particularly upsetting was when Manbo Maude told me directly that she had not come to see my child after they were born because of the rumors that my husband was not the baby's father and my apparent infidelity. As these rumors did not boil over until May months after my child was born, this tells me that this was a much longer situation that was purposefully held back from me.

When the person I chose as my mother told me that, I think my heart broke in a really specific way and I felt really, really stupid. She was first person I told after my husband that I was pregnant, she was the person who had the inside scoop about how the pregnancy went, and she was the first person who saw a picture of the baby after I gave birth...yet somehow she had harbored this awful belief that I was somehow capable of what rumors were saying.

Responsibility was spoken about in our call, and she stated she was responsible for me as my spiritual mother. Where was the responsibility when people were busy assassinating my character and speaking poison onto my child, for months on end? It would not have been hard to pick up the phone and call me and ask about what was being said and if I was okay, but that would require a belief that I am the one who tells the truth about my experience and that I am ultimately a respectable person.

Our conversation ended with Manbo Maude telling me she was willing to work on our relationship but that my husband was no longer welcome in her home or her temple, for perceived betrayal that was never fully explained to me. I was asked to make a decision on whether I was going to stay in Sosyete Nago and I requested time to think.

In truth, I already knew what my answer would be but I felt dizzy and disoriented after a conversation that had veered so wildly from what I had hoped it would be and I wanted to clear my head and think.

Manbo Maude stated a boundary that unfortunately meant there could no longer be an active relationship. I fully believe that an offer that excludes family is not an offer of connection, but an invitation to leave and I genuinely wish that could have just been said directly. Further, it had already been said to other people before it got to me; one of my husband's family members was called and told that they were welcome at an upcoming fet, but not to bring my husband. And, it had made it's way around local community; house members felt free enough to tell people nou pa bon avek yo, nou pap sevi avek yo ankò/we're not on good terms with them, we don't serve/work with them anymore. This is an example of how gossip is weaponized; that was said to people that are known to be friends and family of ours, so it was very clear we would hear.

As much as I was not going to disrespect Manbo Maude, her home, or her temple and bring people she didn't want there, I was also not going to disrespect my husband or my child and go places they were specifically not welcome or celebrated. So, I wrote my letter.

My resignation was the beginning of the work to understand and dig into why I needed to ask for particular information and what that meant for me, and so I got to work. As I have been very visible for the last decade and had the grace to marry someone people trust, I was able to connect with a lot of granmoun/elders and other community members. Some were people who have known my mother, some were people who knew her spiritual mother, and others were community members who gracefully were willing to entertain my questions and give me their time.

This was work I went into while holding a considerable amount of anger, which was covering up how hurt and betrayed I felt. Sosyete Nago diverges from traditional initiation formats and does not initiate anyone from outside of Haiti to sou pwen, so how was I to be expected to know what information I was to ask for, even though it is considered a foundational element? Certainly each lakou has their own regleman that they adhere to, but what does it mean to diverge so far from the general agreements asson lineages hold as a community?

This is something that has negatively affected me for years. I wrote it off as my problem because I was told it was my problem and I was comfortable with that, because my relationships with my lwa have been solid from the start, but it has affected me during fets, with clients, in dreams, and just on my own. I also am now a parent of a Haitian-American child who very clearly and decisively is a child of the lwa. Her father is an accomplished houngan but, God forbid/Bondye pa vle, what happens if he were to pass before me and my child needs assistance that I was not given the information to provide? Is my child just abandoned to whatever happens with a shrug? These are real consequences.

I spoke with a lot of people and was given a lot of grace. When you are an outsider and you start asking very particular and pointed questions about topics that can't be discussed without an assurance you have the right to even ask the question, people look at you. They test you, and they see if you are what you say you are and if the sondaj rings true. I have always been who I say I am and I know what I know, so it did.

Questions give way to answers, and answers are pieced together to a broader quilt of an answer. My siblings in the US didn't know what I was asking about, but the ones in Haiti did, and they described something not done for folks who come for kanzo from outside of Haiti. Community members described various scenarios as to how these particular things could come to pass; they described how it happens in their lakou and how they have witnessed it happen in others. I was invited to Haiti multiple times to witness how community members do these things under their own regleman.

A particular piece of knowledge that hit me kind of between the eyes came to me multiple times, from community elders and from a spirit who came down to speak. How it came from spirit was that, in the midst of our discussion on this topic, they snatched an asson out of the hands of someone nearby and kind of shook it in my face. They said (paraphrasing in English) that this (the asson) is a kalbas/gourd, a kloch/bell, and a kolye/strung beads and that you can go out and buy all of that at the market for cheap, but that the real asson is the konesans/knowledge you carry inside you, and then the spirit poked me in the side of my head to illustrate. I heard that multiple times over these conversations and it is the thing that has stuck with me: if you don't know it, do you really have it?

This did nothing to really quash my anger and I let my lwa have it. I told them that I have always trusted them (even when I have dragged my feet), that this is where that particular trust had led me, and that they now were going to do the work to fix it, since I had done nothing to get myself into my current predicament.

So they did.

I also got really seeking to understand what happens when we die, and I received similar grace from many community elders and members. I heard so many personal stories of loss that unfolded how we care for our dead.

There was the manbo who died an unnatural death just after the monte bila for a bat gè ceremony, and that caused the entire kanzo preparations and ceremonies to stop immediately. The bila was covered, the desounen completed, and nine days of bohoum/funeral rites were begun for a beloved child and community member.

There was the fet where the honored lwa just wouldn't come down, despite multiple and repeated salutes by children of the lakou and guests. Finally, after a lot of effort, the lwa came in exactly one head and sat down in the middle of the temple. They said they had come not to eat and celebrate, but to give the lakou the news that had not yet come by mouth: a lakou member had died, and the ceremony was to halt so that the funeral process could begin. Not long after that, a cousin arrived bearing news of a sudden sickness and passing of a hounsi.

There was the time when someone arrived with news of a death just as the first fet in a series of fet kay was starting, and the fet stopped and lakou members changed clothes and got in a vehicle to go retrieve the body of their sibling so that ceremonies could be done for them. The many animals purchased for the lwa were slaughtered in the names of both the lwa and the deceased, and charity was done to feed all the surrounding community, without any ceremony.

I heard about different rites, such as draping the door of the djevo in black and white so the lwa know one of their children has died, or placing a wooden cross at the gate of the lakou so the community is aware that there has been a loss. I learned about the importance of the desounen, which is the rite done immediately after passing to remove the soul of the initiate so that it can be protected and returned to the djevo it was born from or a similar safe place. I learned why we may break the krish or the kwi behind the process and how we may prepare the bohoum to honor the commitment and sacrifice of our initiation. I was gifted an immense amount of video documentation, because our grief rites are both communal and our pride; see how much we loved our child/sibling that passed? See how we made the ceremony beautiful for them? See how we all come together to do it? I even had the opportunity to talk to a spirit about this work, and they gave me the step by step of how I am to do some of these particular things, when it is time for me to do them.

The sharing of these various stories and rites (and others not shared here) bring one thing into focus: death stops for no one, but we stop for death. It is inconvenient and it can cost us money and time and days and effort, but how we greet death when it takes one of our loved ones is the final dignity we give them and it renews how we relate to each other. Sometimes that is hard. Sometimes it means we take a loss or our plans are upended, but ultimately we are held in community by our common agreements to each other and death is the one that none of us can escape so we, as houngans and manbos, must greet it well.

The importance of these things in the many forms they take in individual lakou was underlined by an elder I had the opportunity to speak with who lives locally to my former lakou and whom I have known a bit. They described how a death of a manbo or houngan will bring the local community to the lakou to visit during periods of mourning. I asked why they did not visit my mother's lakou when Dana passed and they stared at me through the video call and said that had a death happened they would have visited, but as dances had begun the same day as the supposed (to them) death, there couldn't have been anyone that had died. This certainly gave me pause to understand the depth and breadth of what had been said in the aftermath of Dana's transition.

This work to understand both of these areas underlined how interconnected Vodou is and should be beyond a lakou. Not once did anyone ask me for money or tell me I needed to have something done, as had been intimated for years would happen had I, an outsider, gone to places outside of my immediate community and spoken to other manbos and houngans. My curiosity (after assuring I had the right to be curious) was welcomed with pleasure and, when I can get back to Haiti, I have a lot of beer to drink and legume and lanbi to enjoy.

The hardest part of this work was looking at this connectedness and willingness to engage and knowing that this was something my heart was missing. After all, I am human and all I have really wanted in the very bottom of my soul is what everyone wants: a place to belong where we are loved, valued, respected, and cared for, and that left me, if it ever truly existed how I wanted and needed it to be.

But, in loss there is always gain and growth. The lwa do not leave their children in suffering and they fulfill their promises and answer prayers. This summer, my husband went to Haiti (after everything had already unfolded) and a significant part of the reason he was there was to secure our lakou. We had been gifted land in a demambwe after the birth of our child, and he went to visit it, feed it, and begin the process of standing up our lakou. I had assumed I would be limited there, but family and spirits said 'are you crazy? you belong here, too', and so I have a place to be again. We had been talking about our own lakou and sosyete for years, and the lwa fulfilled it and then some, with the addition of an inherited temple in a different area and a plan to also build another in an area we like. Every day has been a blessing, even on the worst days.

I know this writing won't be well received by everyone (or maybe anyone at all...who knows), but, transparency aside, I didn't write it for anyone but me. I know I too will be labeled a betrayer after this is published, but I have told no secrets and broken no oaths. It will likely be said that I am controlled by my husband or that he is telling me what to say, but I accept no backhanded insults about my ability to discern, reflect, evaluate, inquire, and act on my own. I also don't believe that what I will say will necessarily change anything, but I wish my departure had been an ending for gossip and challenging communication. Even now, we hear regularly from friends, clients, and family members how Sosyete Nago represents that my husband and I are working against Manbo Maude and Sosyete Nago and have brought powder into the temple, and I watch how gossip sows division and creates separation instead of increasing our connectedness and interdependence.

During the long process of discerning and writing about all of this, those were things that made me fearful, and that fear came from a place of being scared of being talked about or labeled a particular way, and that itself is my own trauma response that I have had to look at critically.

I don't need to be scared, because the truth is not scary. It can be painful and embarrassing and shocking, but not scary. I am not afraid of betrayal, because I reject that as a way of framing relationships. Instead, I choose an open heart and seek connectedness and reconciliation, across the board. I hope one day for reconciliation with Sosyete Nago and Manbo Maude, but reconciliation requires responsibility, reparative action, and change. I hope for healing for myself, for Manbo Maude and Sosyete Nago, for Dana, and for community-at-large, and I pray for peace for all who have found themselves touched by these situations.

May the lwa love us, guide us, and hold us to the high standard of our best selves, that we all may become who we are meant to be. May we choose connection over isolation, grace over fear, and choose to assume the best over assuming the worst. May the lwa bless each of you ten times as much as they have blessed me.

Alex Batagi, March 2025

#vodou #haitian vodou

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