#reminded me of 2012 rust

[moonlight-scorpions]

[nellbookmarks]

jealousy jealousy au (2012) but @reds-writings

“I know how you are, Rustin. If you’ve got some hang-up rooted in self-pity you need to cut it out. You’re here because I want you here. Not because I feel sorry for you or anythin’ else along those lines-” “You shouldn’t want me here.” The graviliness of his voice broke out in lame protest. So it was gonna be one of those nights. “I’d like to think that’s for me to decide…”

x

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

are: Rust and EDC, on rewatching, I noticed that 2012 Rust uses Crash’s wallet chain, and possibly the same style of work boots (trying to trace the brand on these rn lol). I always thought the chain was interesting bc it’s the only super recognizable Crash thing that seems to carry over.

Sorry, anon. I forgot about this and then I didn't forget about this and then I read too much about it and then I concluded that I had nothing to add because you got it all in the ask--it is (apparently) the only visual cue Rust retains from Crash, and it is a Crash cue.

And that will be obvious to some of you--but it was not obvious to me, a person who arguably has "special interest: men" and "special interest: masculine accessories" written down on her character sheet somewhere, probably under a headline that says "penalties to charisma." Why was this not obvious to me? Why did I react with derision, when first faced with Rust looking all hot with his wallet chain on?

I refer you to this Vogue article from 2016, which (inaccurately) states that wallet chains are (were) back and also (inaccurately) states:

Blame the resurgence of the wallet chain on Vetements: For Fall 2016, the label gave the accessory a cheeky mall-goth makeover

To me, the wallet chain has always been a mall goth staple. But that is because my toxic trait is that I truly, truly believe that if I had been born in a slightly earlier time, I would have been so good at being an authentic 90s goth at the club.

(It pains me, it pains me to think of how Crash era Rust could so plausibly be at the (goth) club. Like, Rust wouldn't be, is the problem. But he could have been, so easily, and the overlap between biker scene and leather scene and goth has always been significant.)

(Crash era club setting BDSM fic set to Nine Inch Nails WHEN)

But reading anything in Vogue always reminds me that I, personally, might be full of shit, given that my frame of reference is such a thin slice of humanity, so I set out to answer the question of: do bikers actually wear wallet chains?

To do this, I did what anyone concerned with journalistic integrity and not leaving her own house would do: I read old forum posts from the early 2000s. And here I learned that it's not a wallet chain, in the parlance, but a biker wallet, and really the biker wallet is originally a trucker (as in semis) wallet.

The go to joke, on some slightly less old forums, seems to be that these days, the biker wallet / wallet chain is mostly good for scratching up your paint job.

however.

It seems that back in the day, the wallet chain was in fact an essential piece of kit. Why? Wallet in back pocket, bumpy rides, long roads--apparently losing your wallet because it jostled out of your jeans is a real thing that really happened. The difference seems to be that between now and then, suspensions (i think is the term?) got better and in general, rides are smoother, so it's less of a risk.

I assume there's also the issue of--once the look is diluted enough by people the initial core group thinks of as posers, the object that was formerly a reliable marker of in-group, now useless, becomes uncool.

So anyway, that's some general thoughts on wallet chains. But back to Rust, specifically.

he's so busted and hot here. dishabille. where was I.

We can conclude that the wallet chain, in the 90s, is a pragmatic choice, like almost everything is, where Rust is concerned. We never see Crash riding but we assume, right, that he didn't spend four years infiltrating a biker gang to never be on a dang bike. Period accurate suspensions were apparently shit, and presumably losing your state issued fake ID is a pain in the ass while working UC, so the wallet chain is practical.

So why is 2012 Rust, who drives a pick up, wearing it?

For the same reason he's wearing the same watch for the whole series, I think. It works.

Or is it a hint of some attachment to identity? This is only on my mind due to recent discussions in my DMs, but the idea is tantalizing. What if he likes the wallet chain, just a teensy bit? That seems good or healthy, maybe, that he's got some scrap of preference and attachment going on there.

Or maybe he doesn't, and it's just another way 2012 Rust comes across as frozen in time, like most of those ten years are lost time. Not rugged practicality, not if it ain't broke, don't fix it, but a secret third thing: a resigned it is what it is, the smallest unit of self fulfilling prophecy that time is a flat circle or nothing changes and therefore nothing matters.

Or maybe it's that there ain't much of a difference between Crash and Rust at the end of the day, which is my humbly presented thesis in this half finished fan fic I promise I haven't forgotten about.

re: the boots. I think I have a source on the exact boots, once again due to the insane guys over on reddit. I'll comb through my bookmarks and see if I find it and I will report back...eventually. And then I think I might as well post about the knife and the zippo because the knife, at least, is funny to me and very Rust. Also I need to tag these, I guess?

Rust EDC posts so far:

the ledger // the watch

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 18/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012) FOURTEEN (2013) FIFTEEN (2014) SIXTEEN (2015) SEVENTEEN (2016)

Made infinitely better by having @phisworld14 do a quick beta-check and caught the worst of my typos and spelling errors. 🌻🌻🌻

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – 2017

              “Bradley…”

              “Yeah.”

              “Tamsin says you’re smart…”

              “Uh…” Bradley isn’t sure what to say to that. Because it’s been a while since he was a teenager, but he’s pretty sure agreeing that he’s smart is likely an uncool thing to do. Then again he’s a fully functional adult and shouldn’t care what his teenage sister thinks of him. Still. “Well. If Tamsin thinks so…?”

              “Oh my god, you are so not…”

              “Did you want to talk about something?”

              “Uh. No.”

              Bradley nods, because he’s pretty sure she does, but he’s not going to push it, because that way lies madness and likely some form of bodily harm. She’s happily helping him to the fine sand on the body of the Bronco, and it’s almost ready for a final paint job. They’ve sanded and sanded more, masked up sweating, filled in so many holes with glass-fiber mat and resin. He found completely new second-hand parts for some of the panels, because they’d had less rust.

              For a while the Bronco has resembled more of a patchwork quilt than a vehicle, but he’s booked her in for a professional paint job for when he’s next deployed. Petra has her license now, and while she doesn’t like driving the Bronco because it’s too slow, she’s agreed to pick it up and take it back to Bradley’s house. On the proviso that she gets to choose the color. He’s really glad she likes him and will no doubt choose a color that he’ll love.

              “Do you like it?”

              “Uh… like what?” Bradley asks, wonders if he missed her saying something else, pretty sure he didn’t.

              “You know. Sex.”

              He moves so fast he hits his head on the hood, which at least is funny to her, her burst of laughter sounding a little nervous. He is not prepared for this conversation but suspects he’s going to be having it anyway. What did he ever do to deserve this? Twice?

              “Uh… Yeah. I do.” Fuck he really hopes that’s enough and that this is somehow the end of the conversation. He doubts very much he’s going to be that lucky and he’s reminded of other conversations he’s had over the years with either Tamsin or Petra. There’s nowhere to go but through.

              “Why?”

              “Why do I like sex?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Uh…”

              “Apart from the orgasm part. I get that. Well. Not really. But…”

              “Okay. It makes me feel good. I like making the other person, or people, fuck, uh. Just…” He scrubs at his forehead, wonders if the reason Mav still looks so young is because Bradley inherited his age-lines somehow. “It’s physical gratification. For all parties. I enjoy taking part in that,” he trails off, because it’s also about trust and having a connection and he’s been missing that he realizes suddenly. What a time to have a revelation.

              “Going fast feels better…”

              “Uh… going fast does feel pretty fucking good,” Bradley agrees, realizing she’s referring to the speed of vehicles rather than the speed of sex. And he doesn’t want to ask if she has anything to compare it to. That would be a dick move and he’s not as clueless now as he was as a teenager, not even aware of the gay and lesbian relationships the he was surrounded by.

              “I don’t like sex.”

              “Okay.”

              “I’ve had sex.”

              “Yeah, okay. Don’t tell Mav that. You’ll give him a heart attack.”

              “And I had it with both a guy and a girl. Just in case…”

              “Uh… what?”

              “To check.”

              Part of Bradley wants to commend the scientific approach, however.

              “You know you didn’t have to do that right?”

              “Yes I did. For me, I did. I talked to mom. I just… I don’t like it.”

              “Okay. That’s fine,” Bradley says, and he wonders if that’s the last of it. He’s going to enjoy filling in Nat about this. Over a bottle of wine. Maybe one each.

              “It’s just…I just feel like I’m the odd one out…”

              “How?”

              “Everyone else likes sex!”

              “Uh. Not everyone. There are –”

              “Everyone in our family I mean! That’s why I feel like I don’t fit in…”

              “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Okay. You fit in perfectly, just like everyone else does. Have you thought maybe Tamsin feels the same?”

              “What? She likes sex. I’ve heard it. It’s…” Petra pulls a face and he kind of has to agree, the idea of hearing Tamsin have sex is definitely entering the realm of TMI. It’s bad enough knowing she has a boyfriend and is sexually active. Maybe he should buy Ice and Mav a treat on the way home…

              “Okay, I don’t need to know that. I meant… uh… feeling like the odd one out. She’s straight. The only one in our family,” Bradley offers, scrambles to think of another example. “And, uh, I’m fine with it now, but for a while when I was younger I felt like I was the odd one out, like I wasn’t sure if I was a cousin or brother or just a family friend…”

              “You’re my brother! You’ve always been my brother!”

              “I know. I know I am. I just… it took me a few years to realize that. I’m just using it as an example of how I used to feel like I was the odd one out. Maybe Melissa feels like she’s the odd one out sometimes, because she’s not related to blood to you or Tamsin…”

              “She’s my mama…”

              “Yeah. Exactly. Our family might be a little… unique. But we’re all really important parts. Okay?”

              Petra lets out a sigh and shrugs, then shoves her shoulder into his side.

              “Yeah. Tamsin was right. You are pretty smart.”

…           …           …

              Tom wanders around the house and it feels far too quiet. Tamsin and Petra both now away at college, Pete doing some test pilot thing which is keeping him in the air and happy about it. Everyone he loves is safe and well and yet he feels like he’s at a loose end. Maybe he should get a dog. It would be nice to have someone in the house that actually listened and followed his instructions. Also right now it would make him feel a little less lonely. Maybe he’ll go to the shelter and just… have a look sometime.

…           …           …

              “Remind me again why I’m wearing a blindfold to see my own car?”

              “You said we could choose the color for the paint!”

              “Have to do a grand reveal…” Ice says and he sounds amused  which Bradley isn’t sure how to take.

              “You couldn’t have covered the car in a sheet?” Bradley mutters, wonders whether he’s going to see bright red, or lime green. Bright orange maybe? At least people will see him coming.

              “Your eyes are easier for us to cover up. Now quit your whining… Ta da!”

              The blind fold is removed with only a little discomfit and pulling of hair; he takes in the Bronco in front of him. It’s blue. A beautiful shade of blue that reminds him of a hot summer day and the clear sky stretching wide and free. The chrome is glistening, as are the tires. If he hadn’t worked on it himself for the last eight years he’d have assumed this was a collectors piece.

              “Wow… it looks so good.”

              “Better than you thought it would?” Petra asks, and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet.

              “Yeah, so much better. Did you… did you get it detailed as well?”

              “Yep. Thought you’d appreciate it.”

              “Thanks Pet, I really do. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

…           …           …

              Pete is glad for the flexibility that being a test pilot offers. Of course, sometimes he turns up on planned fly-days only to find out that the plane is, in fact, not going to be going up. He strikes up a friendship with Hondo, someone who can keep up with him when it comes to talking about the mechanics and maneuvers and how they might relate. He just gives Ice the finger when he makes a pithy comment about how nice it is to see him making friends.

              He follows the news, and Bradley’s deployments of course. Knows Ice keeps an even closer eye on the goings on. Ice might think his notebooks are secret, but Pete has seen them. He can’t decipher Ice’s little code, but he also hasn’t sat down and actually tried either. He’s fairly confident that if he asked Ice would simply tell him, and there’s no fun in that. He’d love to see if he could maybe crack it and then sneak in some notes of his own. Maybe a sneaky I love you. Yeah. He’ll try that.

…           …           …

              As August bleeds into September Tom watches the news helplessly as Hurricane Harvey wreaks havoc, think about his colleagues and friends in Corpus Christi and does everything he can think of to help. Tensions are mounting between China, Russia and North Korea and he’s been to so many briefings about North Korea’s on-going nuclear testing he’s surprised he isn’t dreaming about it. Then Hurricanes Irma and Maria strike in quick succession, separated by a 7.1 earthquake in Mexico and he sets about updating and improving all the emergency evacuation gear that his family might need.

…           …           …

              Bradley has been getting therapy and it’s been… unexpected. He doesn’t know what he’d expected the first time, but getting asked why he thought he needed therapy had thrown him. He’d sort of expected to be told all the ways he was fucking up his life, because he knows he’s been making mistakes and just didn’t know if he could stop making them. Still doesn’t know really, but he’s got a better understanding of himself, and of all the relationships he has with the people in his life.

              And that’s the key point, he can only work on the relationships he has with people who are in his life. He hasn’t seen Jake in over a year, knows that he’s likely made any chance of something more than sex impossible with his previous behavior. Not that he’d meant to hurt Jake, but he knows now he must have. Even the apologies he’d thought off wouldn’t have been enough. He remembers his last time with Jake. Thinks of wasted opportunities but also tries not to dwell on them. He can’t change his past, only work on his present and improve for his future.

…           …           …

              Pete stops putting his shopping in the tail bag and stands still and strains his ears.

              There.

              He steps towards the sound, and it gets louder before stopping. Then again. He hears a faint mewling and he looks around but he can’t see anything that might be making such a sound. There is a pile of trash, some bags and cardboard boxes piled up in the corner of the lot where he parked while he ran in to grab a bottle of wine and some chocolate to bring home to Ice after nearly two weeks away. His stomach sinks as he gets closer and the sound gets louder. He nudges the closest box with his foot carefully and sure enough it cries and there’s scrambling coming from inside and he feels a well of rage rise up as he pulls his pocketknife from his pocket.

              Slicing the tape along the edges carefully he prepares himself for the potential horror and smell and then he’s looking at two kittens who are both trying to scrabble out of the box. They’re filthy, covered in their own shit and no doubt fleas and god, he has no idea what else. He’s never had pets before, although he knows Ice had dogs growing up. He can’t leave them, he’s just going to have to take them home and figure out what the fuck he’s meant to do. But at home is Ice, and he’ll know.

              He unzips his jacket and willingly one of the kittens just immediately climbs inside. He has no idea if this is normal behavior. The other kitten follows suit, and apart from the very fucking sharp claws which are pricking at his skin through his t-shirt they seem quite content. He’s going to need a decontamination shower and have to send his jacket away to be cleaned properly. Ah well, it’s not like he has a choice.

              He drives carefully, mindful that his attention might be drawn away by sharp claws or wriggling bodies. However it’s an uneventful ride and he dismounts from his bike carefully, deciding to leave the wine and chocolate in the tail bag for now. He can come out and grab it after he’s had a shower.

              “Have you hurt yourself? You’re walking… stiffly.”

              “Uh yeah… I’m fine. Just…” Pete stops, blinks at the apparition sitting at Ice’s heel, a golden-brown patchy dog with floppy looking ears. “Uh, Ice? There’s a dog. Where did the dog come from?”

              “Uh. Yeah. His name is Harley…”

              “You got a dog?”

              “Yes. I… uh. Didn’t mean to. But he’s been at the shelter for over a year and… Mav, what do you have in your jacket?”

              “Kittens.”

              “What.”

              It’s the tone Ice uses when he’s not actually asking a question, is simply waiting for further clarification. After years together Pete knows he’s going to have to talk fast, but at least it’s a short story and he knows Ice will agree with hi justification.

              “Uh. Yeah. I found them in a box…”

              “You couldn’t just leave them there?”

              “It was taped shut Tom.”

              He knows he’s not going to have to say anything else. That Ice knows him too well to expect him to have done anything differently than exactly what he’s done.

              “Fuck.”

              “Yeah. I couldn’t…”

              “Yeah, no. Of course not. Fuck.”

              “I just… can you start looking stuff up? Find out where we could maybe take them? They really need a bath. And then I need a shower.”

              “Okay. Use the laundry sink. Do you think Melissa would know?”

              “She’s a doctor Ice, not a vet…”

              “Yeah, but she likes cats. Actually so does Sarah. Maybe they’ll take them?”

              “Ring them and ask. I’m going to…” he unzips his jacket and looks down to find two pairs of green eyes peering and blinking back at him.

              “Oh. They’re… very small.”

              “I think they’re normal sized?”

              “They definitely need a bath.”

              “Yeah. Sorry. Not quite the homecoming I had planned…” Ice’s lips twitch and an eyebrow goes up and Pete huffs in resignation. “I know, let me go get these guys cleaned up. You ring Sarah and Melissa.”

…           …           …

              Tom gets off the phone with Sarah in time to help Mav wrap a kitten each in a large towel and carefully dry them. They’re doing the best they can, and he at least has been able to create a litter box with some sand in the garage and an empty plastic tray Mav had bought for changing oil. It’ll do the job for now and he can still hear the echo of Sarah’s laugh. Fortunately Harley seems completely uninterested in the kittens, until they start crying and then he just sniffs at them curiously before lying down and letting out the resigned huffing sigh that had endeared Tom to him the first time he’d seen him.

              “Sarah and Melissa are away visiting Melissa’s sister. They wish us good luck.”

              “Damn.”

              “She gave me some ideas. First thing tomorrow though we’re taking them to the vet.”

              “Yeah, of course.”

              “Your turn to go shower…”

              He takes the other kitten and carries them both into the kitchen, knows they have tinned fish and hopefully they can drink water. He nudges Harley out of the way, briefly tempted to try feeding the kittens on the bench, but worried about them falling off. They’re both tabbies with patches of white, although right now they resemble drowned rats, fur in clumped tufts where some of it is still damp. Tinned fish is apparently a hit, although the bowl of water is maybe too big and a bit of a mystery. Harley is sitting to the side and just watching; he’s very well trained and quiet, nothing like the dogs Tom remembers from his childhood.

              He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of the three animals and throws it into the family group chat for Sarah and Melissa before he realizes his fatal error.

              “Fuck.”

              “What’s wrong now?” Mav asks and he startles a little, takes in the tiny little red scratches across Mav’s chest and stomach as he ties off the drawstring of his sleep pants.

              “I just sent a picture of them all to the group chat…”

              “Oh fuck…” Mav says with a laugh and Tom groans.

              “I know!”

              “There’s no getting rid of them now. You’ve let them know…”

              “I know!”

              His phone is vibrating and pinging with notifications and he looks at Mav and releases a resigned sigh.

              “Well, I’m glad you let the, ha, cat out of the bag rather than me.”

              “Haha. What do you even do with a kitten?”

              “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

              “We helped raise three kids to adulthood, we can manage a couple of kittens…Right?”

              “I mean. Sure. Yeah. Of course. You going to answer any of their calls or messages?”

              “No. They can wait until tomorrow.”

              Clearly happier with food and water the kittens have stopped crying, and now seem intent on exploring. Tom quickly goes and shuts the doors to all the side rooms before he makes himself comfortable on the sofa, Mav immediately leaning into his side and passing him a glass of wine. Harley has curled up on the bed under the coffee table, eyes barely open as he watches Tom and Maverick both. He simply blinks slowly when the kittens start climbing over him, just lets out the same resigned huff of breath and Tom has never felt such solidarity with an animal before.

…           …           …

              Bradley hasn’t been summoned to a family meeting before, but it takes about thirty-six hours to find a time when they’re all free and he cannot wait to watch Tamsin and Petra whine and moan about how they finally got pets now that they’ve all moved out of home. He’s a couple of minutes late in joining the video call, popping in his earbuds and smiling at his phone as their faces all pop up in smaller screens.

              “It isn’t fair!”

              “You always said we weren’t allowed pets!”

              “And I stand by that. You changed your mind every other week.”

              “We move away and you got three!”

              “Yes. We decided to replace all of you with animals.”

              “I dibs being the dog!”

              “Well, his name is Harley…”

              “Like the motorbike?”

              Bradley watches as Ice opens his mouth, closes it again. There have been a lot of questions asked and answered, and the kittens don’t have names, which he suspects is going to be an honor Ice and Mav will let the girls have. Because he’s pretty sure they didn’t plan on any pets. He knows the dog is a five year old beagle-labrador cross, and he’s seen photos of it before, when Ice started visiting the shelter about six months ago. So maybe they were planning on a pet. Not three of them though.

              “Okay, well if we have a Harley then we need to name one of the kittens Ducati… Du-CAT-i. Get it?”

              There are groans but Bradley grins.

              “Well, if we’re going with that theme than you can name the other Ceccato…”

              “Because you are keeping them, right?”

              “Well, we might find our children visit us more often.”

              As one all three of them protest the call out, because they visit as often as they can, and from the shit-eating grin he can see on Mav’s face he’s clearly winding them up. That said though he might have an idea to make them very happy, remembering times in his teens, staying with Ice and Tamsin and Petra when they were younger. When he was really young. Yeah. He might have to call in some favors.

              “Dad, you have to send me videos, like every time they do something cute… Promise me.”

              “I promise.”

…           …           …

              Tom settles into the middle of the sofa, feels Mav settle further into his side and it’s good to have him home, even if the last week has been a little more chaotic that he anticipated it would be. However they’re settling into a new routine and it feels good. They always wake early, feed the kittens and then go for a run and take Harley with them. He surprised that he quite likes the cats, although their spats of extreme high energy for a few moments are still a little startling.

              He’s spoken to Tamsin earlier that day, wishing her happy birthday. The fact she’s now twenty-one makes him feel old, but also that he’s definitely been suffering from a little empty-nest. Having Mav back this week has helped, but having three animals is definitely going to keep the worst of his loneliness at bay when he’s next alone. Harley lets out a quiet whuff, which Tom now knows means someone is at the door. An alert bark which is surprisingly quiet.

              “I’ll go…”

              “What?”

              “Someone’s about to knock at the door…” Tom says, pressing Mav back onto the sofa, but then he can hear the door opening and he frowns. No one with a key is even in town this weekend.

              “Mav? Ice?”

              “Dad! Papa! We’re here…”

              He doesn’t bemoan his quiet night at all, the fact that all three of his kids have decided to turn up and a quick look at Mav tells his he’s equally surprised that they’re all here.

              “What are you all doing here?”

              “You’re meant to be in Lemoore…”

              “I called in a couple of favors. Just here for the night. Thought you might like to actually see Tamsin for her twenty-first.” He gives Bradley the tightest hug he can manage, because this has his handiwork all over it. “Plus we wanted to mee t the new family members.”

              After they’ve paid an inordinate amount of attention to the kittens and pet Harley he ends up back on the sofa, this time with Tamsin between him and Mav, Bradley on his other side and then Petra stretched out over all four of their laps, demanding the comforter. It’s a tight squeeze but he doesn’t care, it’s so rare these days to have moments like these. Then they’re arguing about what movie to watch before settling on one. While his life may not be perfect, right in this moment, it feels like it is.

[abelsdove]

these thirst trap photoshoots make me giggle because theyre not really my thing but hey cowboy rust inspo. the last one specifically is funny to picture rust as but yeah i think he Would have a stache.

possibly what rust looked like while growing his 2012 hair and stache? his face in the middle one is a bombastic side eye. he is always giving spooked animal one way or the other. which then reminded me of neil newbon’s approach to playing astarion:

anyway.

a rough idea of rust in alaska lmfao. just gotta add more layers and more… oscar the grouch, you know?

[r11nareborn]

please recommend me songs that remind u of Rustin!!

2012 rust song recs are very welcomed!!

[madsmilfelsen]

RUST ANON I READ BOTH OF THEM AND THEY WERE BOTH AMAZING 😭😭😭 PLS I BEG FOR MLRE CRUMBS OR ANYRHING RUST RELAted oR WRITTEN BY YIU

You know it’s funny because Chevy has me daydreaming about them at the grocery store so that will have to be written, I really need them to argue about fresh vs canned fruit and Rust to teach Sugar how to make sweet tea :(

I have some incomplete stuff that I started and thought 1. Lazy writing warm up that does nothing (Maggie going to Doumain’s) 2. this would never fucking happen (circa early 2012) and 3. This is entirely too horny to put in a chapter with already exceedingly long smut (post stabbing recovery) lmao so here they are

Sugar lost a coin flip and is on her knees under the bar for the afternoon. Rust does the bookkeeping for the next inventory order and Bob drinks himself face down onto the bar, the lucky bastard.

“Don’t forget to clear the lines,” Rust reminds her, too cheerfully, and disappears into the back room before she can tell him to go fuck himself. Sugar keeps scrubbing the fridge out, not stopping when she hears the front door open. Doumain’s can run on the honor system so she doesn’t get up to see which regular straggled in for their post-fishing refreshments.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for Rustin Cohle.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name, ma’am,” Sugar responds, voice echoing in the cool cavity she has her damn head stuck in until she can get the back corner clean.

“Oh,” she sounds disappointed, rather than irritated, which piques Sugar’s interest but not enough to look up. This woman, whoever she is, sounds polished and put together and Sugar doesn’t know why she’s in a place like this. “Well, if you see him—” Sugar stops herself from snapping at her— “will you let him know Margaret Sawy— Hart, Maggie Hart wants to talk to him?”

The bar rattles when Sugar bangs the back of her head hard enough to wake Bob. She’s holding the back of her head when she stands, meeting eyes so, so blue and wide in concern.

“Who’s the bird?” Bob asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Are you—?” Maggie asks as the same time.

Sugar can’t register either question and calls out, “Rust!”

Maggie quirks a brow that makes Sugar feel reprimanded enough to mouth a quick sorry, before patting Bob’s shoulder and tilting her head to the back room for him to follow her.

“I ain’t clearing those lines, you lost fair and—” Rust falls silent mid-step, halting in the doorway that was Sugar’s escape.

“Rust,” Maggie greets softly, “It’s good to see you.”

“Bullshit,” he replies, flat without any true menace. Sugar wants to be anywhere but here.

“I talked to Marty,” Maggie starts.

“I hear you talked to the cops, too,” Rust says, heavy with accusation, but he steps forward enough that Sugar can dart out.

“Yes, them, too,” she says. Sugar can feel Maggie looking at her when she pulls on Bob’s elbow. “How are you?”

“What’d Marty tell you?”

“Who is she?” Bob asks in the backroom, just out of sight.

“Maggie,” Sugar whispers back and his brows jump.

“He wanted to know what the police asked me about. He said he was helping you with something. That’s it. How long have you been back?”

“Hear you got a big house,” Rust says, choosing again not to answer her question, voice only slightly less hostile. “Marty says the girls are doing fine. That’s good.”

“Rust,” she says, the edge of pleading make Sugar and Bob exchange a look, “Just tell me it’s something that’s not gonna get him hurt.”

“Well, I can’t tell you that. It never sat right with me, and it doesn’t now, you asking me to lie to you about him. Now, get out of here. You’re classing the place up.” A stool scrapes the ground and the door opens and closes again but Sugar and Bob don’t move until Rust says, volume conversational, “Come on out.”

“You know how to hold a grudge, brother,” Bob comments first as he retakes his seat and Rust only grunts, watching the white SUV pull away before he grabs a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.

“I think I’m concussed,” Sugar mutters, rubbing the back of her head.

The lock jingles and Sugar looks up but doesn’t move from where she’s curled up. Rust swings his keys into his palm with a low whistle.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stopping mid step when he sees her on the couch.

“Reading.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Rust says with a shake of his head, walks over without taking off his boots to hook a finger into her necklace. When he pulls slightly Sugar sits up straighter. “Get down.”

The embarrassment is a show, unfolding her legs slowly and not looking away from him to not miss any further instruction. Sugar sits on her heels, chasten on her knees and at this level she notices for the first time her bed is a few inches shorter than his. She’s about to snip about how he should just crate her when he goes to work if he doesn’t want her on the furniture, but his hand curls around her necklace before she can open her mouth. The chain and clasp are sturdy, on purpose likely, with how easy it is for him to hold her down by it. His curled knuckles press down on the back of her neck until her cheek is on the floor and holds her there until the lesson takes root.

“Daax,” he says, not stern but firm enough for her to not move. Heat flushes her cheeks even as she relaxes further onto her forearms and she stays, just like he said. Sugar might find this degrading if it weren’t for the absence of tension as her entire self decompresses.

Rust moves some things around in the kitchen cupboards, ice hits glass, a liquid splashes. He returns without saying a word and Sugar can hear him take a drink after he sits down, his leg bends over her lowered shoulders, boot near her flat hand.

“Ts’uus.”

Sugar carefully sits back on her heels as he told her to do.

“‘Aani.”

Her first instinct is to stand but she swallows, putting her palm on the floor, one and then the other to crawl between his spread knees. She sits with her hands in her lap, poised to break at the first askance of compliance. Rust touches under her chin with a slight smile, “Gheli.”

Sugar can’t help it, she really can’t, when her hips cant forward— good.

Rust is awake and smoking already when she rolls over, her back to the room, sheets tight over the curve of her hip.

“Sugar.”

Her answer is a questioning hum.

“Can you do something for me?”

“What’s that?” she asks sleepily, rubbing her eye and twisting to look at him.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He exhales, billowing and cloud-like, as she rises slowly, positioning herself as he requested, the sheet slips off and she’s bare. Sugar pushes her messy braid over her shoulder where it coils down her spine.

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Rust confirms, taking his time in the next drag, “stretch your arms out, lower your chest— no, all the way, Sugar.”

Her eye, peeking over her bicep, doesn’t move from him.

“The fucking sight of you,” he mutters, “Now how can I keep you just like that?”

“What’s all this for?” Sugar asks, smile hidden behind her arm as she adjusts her hips.

“My health and safety,” he replies, deadpan, hand falling onto his stomach where the skin is still pink from having staples removed. Rust stands with a grunt, dropping his filter into an ashtray, before walking to Sugar’s bed. “Now, don’t move and just let me figure a few things out.”

Standing behind her, Rust pulls on one of her ankles and then the other until her knees are on the edge of her mattress. He yanks her hips back so her ass is where it’s supposed to be and smoothes his hands up her back, feeling her spine arch and stretch. Her body still loose with sleep in the morning sunlight. Rust covers her shoulder blades with his hands, holding them down into the mattress.

“Try pushing your hips back,” he says. She presses against his pelvis, the heat of her bleeding into his skin, and he smiles at the annoyed noise she makes against her sheets when she can’t move any further, “This might work— how much rope do we have?”

“I’m not some bitch who keeps killing her studs. I can stay still,” she promises with a laugh.

“You sound sure and all, honey, but it’s been, what, four weeks, now, and you’ve been eyeing me like you’re ready to pounce,” he states, standing straighter with his hands fitting to the curve of her waist. “Can you understand my trepidation of wrasslin’ you? I’m very fragile right now, Sugar.”

“The hell you are,” she scoffs, folding her arms and resting her cheek on her forearms while he rubs the heel of his palms into her lower back. “You moved a keg yesterday.”

“It was empty,” he argues, before he pushes her hips forward a few inches to look down between them, “have you missed me?”

“We’re together everyday.”

“That’s not what I mean—” Rust guides her hand to the wet spot on his briefs— “that’s you, honey.”

Sugar tries to hide her face but he’s already clocked the redness on her cheeks, light and splotchy between her shoulder blades.

[schoolrust]

"What On Earth Is SchoolRust?"

Glad you asked! SchoolRust is an aesthetic (titled by me) focused on places and things that are old, abandoned, or forgotten, and most of all macabre. The locations are typically those that have decayed or broken down over time, and places that have an odd sense of nostalgia to them. I also like to put an emphasis on places that have been greatly affected by industrialization, like factories, urban settings, schools, power plants, stores, etc.... wherever you might find a chainlink fence and rusted machinery, basically. Overall: the contrast of things that are soft and nostalgic vs things that are cold, worn down, and dreary. A slowly decaying childhood home with a cell tower looming over it, or a school playground covered in rust on a rainy day, are some images that come to mind; thus the name. Other aspects of the aesthetic include old toys, outdated decor/architecture, thrifty and macabre clothes, as well as things that might remind you of urban legends and late 2000s-early 2010s creepypasta culture. Both the horror and comfort of the past are very welcome here.

images from Another (2012), a stock image website, this Tokyo Teddy Bear MV, and yours truly~

A lot of this aesthetic was inspired by both my interest in online horror (both as a kid and as an adult), as well as growing up in a low income area with many abandoned or outdated buildings and odd places to explore, so it's definitely a bit of a personal and hyperspecific niche; but I hope other people like it too! Maybe we can share in our experiences, and our love of the strange, forgotten, and familiar. ♥

[bisnes-socks]

The Big Finnish Music Project for International Kääryleet, part 5.

Go to part 1 for all the context. We pick up where we left off in part 4, as the list is (more or less) in chronological order.

Martti Vainaa ja sallitut aineet

I'm linking this song not because of the artist but because of the song. It feels that these guys dropped this song and dipped. This song represents the sort of.. humour music genre, that started emerging in the 2000's and hit a peak in the 2010's. This song is called Pelimies, it's from 2005, and i remember this being played in my school disco when i was 12. It reminds me of exactly the sort of schoolboys as Mic Mac describes, and that’s why i wanted it on the list.

Sunrise Avenue

Apparently, if you're Slovenian, you know them..? Says Bojan. They were very popular in Finland, but I don't think their fame beyond Finland is fully like grasped by Finnish people. As far as i know, there are European countries where they were huge. This is their first hit, Fairytale Gone Bad, from 2006. They broke up a while ago, and the frontman Samu Haber is solo now. You might have seen him, if you watched UMK24 which he hosted.

Poets of the Fall

Rose to fame in the 2000's and had a few real hits, but as of today they actually have a massive cult following. One of the more influential rock bands in Finland. This video, Carnival of Rust, is also massively popular and quite a famous music video. This is from 2006 and i remember seeing this on tv a lot back then.

JUMPING INTO THE 2010'S

The 2010's saw the rise of rap and hiphop into the mainstream in a massive way. Not that they were ever marginal, but there was definitely a culture shift in the 2010's.

--

JVG

Possibly the most popular in the genre of rap currently, for the last 10 years or so, JVG are a rap duo who rose to fame in 2011 with the linked song, Häissä. They are also known for being hockey boys and weaving a lot of hockey and sports references into their music.

Petri Nygård

So this is what i meant about humour music rising to popularity in the 2010's. But y'all remember the 2010's right? It was a bit like that everywhere for a while, wasn't it. LMFAO, Gagnam Style, Duck Sauce etc etc. everyone was just being wacky for a few years, right? Well Petri Nygård was wacky and crass and stupid, on purpose. This is Selvä päivä from 2011.

Cheek

One of the most domestically successful artists in Finland. One of the rappers to bring American style hiphop culture to Finland, with the bling and the girls and the cars and the mannerisms and such, which all was becoming increasingly more popular in the 2010's. Cheek quit music in 2018. I chose this song, Syypää sun hymyyn from 2012, because Käärijä references the title line in Takavoltti.

Robin Packalen

I know some of you know him from the Käärijä boyfriend Pokedex, and from competing against him in UMK. But Finnish people knew Robin originally from making a song about a girl pulling a sick frontside ollie on a skateboard when he was 14 years old in 2012. The Robin phenomenon among teen girls in particular was nuclear in size. He's like the Finnish Justin Bieber.

Haloo Helsinki!

Domestically speaking a massively successful rock band, Haloo Helsinki! broke through in 2008 when the members were barely out of high school. They've been a constantly strong presence in rock ever since, even though they took a bit of a break a few years ago. They have their own recongnisable style and are just generally well loved in Finland. This song is one of their biggest hits Beibi, from 2014.

End of part 5. The next part takes us from 2015 to 2024, and then there is one extra bonus part for some deeply Finnish musical moments...

[foxes-that-run]

August

In the Long Pond Session, Taylor said to her James and Betty wind up together, but August is sensitive and really cares for James. Taylor drew on her personal experience to comment on the tendency to blame the 'other woman'. Similar to combining Better than Revenge and Slut! in the Era's show, Taylor shows a perspective growth.

While in Cardigan and Betty relate Betty to Taylor and James to Harry. August is a composite character:

To me, the title August is in part inspired by Connor Kennedy, who Taylor had a summer fling with July - mid-August before getting back together with Harry by September.

Summer Love by One Direction has a similar meaning. It's one of only 2 songs on the standard album the boys are credited on. Take Me Home was recorded in the period Harry and Taylor were apart May - August 2012.

Harry later wrote 'I love you' performed by Alex and Sierra in 2014 which is also referenced.

I also see similarities between Augustine and Kendall Jenner.

August is not co-written with William Bowery, but Joe Alwyn has a production credit.

Lyrics

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

I love this verse. It sets the scene in Hyannis Port where Taylor briefly owned a home and spent time with Harry and Connor.

The innocence of the end of this verse warms my heart because after dating men nearing their 30's, Taylor dated teenagers.

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

In 1D's Summer Love, the fling also ends in August "'Cause you were mine for the summer / Now we know it's nearly over / Feels like snow in September"

However Taylor also relates Harry not being hers in Say don't go: "And I'm yours, but you're not mine"

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

In I love you Harry wrote “You ran your finger down my back and you spelled out your name / While we lay there on the soft warm ground / For a week and 13 days” in ILY TS/Betty writes her name on HS/James back, but August doesn’t

Taylor has a lot of school/high school analogies in Haylor songs, to me “back at school” is a stand in for HS returning to the 1D tour/promo schedule

Summer Love also refers to “But I always will remember / You were my summer love”

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

August cares for James, but they aren’t meant to be.

Still Changing for the better is such a sad lyric, to me it sounds like TS didn’t feel that way when she wrote it

The line “meet me behind the mall” reminds me of Coney Island’s “we were like the mall before the internet” where TS and HS are the mall, but August and James are meeting behind it.

Cowboy like me, also has waiting for a call “Now I'm waiting by the phone / Like I'm sitting in an airport bar”

She also said 'meet me behind the mall' was a lyric she had a lot time that inspired the song.

[dakaxeen]

Finding My Song at the Anchorage Museum

By

 Jean Bundy

 -

October 1, 2012

It was approaching the third week of heavy winds and rain outside the Anchorage Museum as I strolled through their canary yellow lobby on my way to “Finding My Song.” Artist Da-ka-xeen Mehner has combined his Native and European heritages to produce a show packed with color, texture and fun along with a poignant message. It’s clear Mehner understands Tlingit craft and twenty-first century Eurocentric Conceptualism.

Raised in Alaska’s Tlingit and Caucasian cultures, each of which has been dominant at times and thus left their anthropological marks, both good and bad, Mehner now teaches Native Arts at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. He holds degrees from the University of New Mexico, The Institute of American Indian Arts as well as the University of Alaska.

The show is divided into three sections but the museum-goer will find all parts connect as the exhibition is about preserving a Tlingit culture that finds itself cohabiting in the white man’s world.  However, the viewer will find no remorse in this show.  Through his art, Mehner reminds his audience to think about the past while enjoying contemporary Native creativity as he freely mixes in Eurocentric genres, offering up old narratives freshly retold.Double Pointed Daggers and Soap Bar. Photo by Jean Bundy.

In the first section, I found myself encircled by double-pointed daggers, evoking those originally made for warfare. Mehner’s extra-large daggers, made from rusted metal, appeared to sink, shrink and rise again as my eyes circulated and landed on every dagger point.  Mehner told me simple household words like “thank you” are painted faintly on the shafts. Upon further examination, I found a few, sometimes the only Tlingit words a family today might have picked up.

Twenty-first century art-speak invites viewers to put forth their own thoughts about a piece, often ignoring the creator’s ideas.  I thought of Stonehenge and envisioned being surrounded by evil-doers.  Then again, maybe the figures, whoop daggers, were playing some sort of vertical hide and seek.   Using one culture to reach out and save another might be one of the themes of this show.

The three sections are separated by two partitions shaped like the front of a clan house, now giant video screens. One screen has a large still image of Mehner with a bar of laundry soap shoved into his mouth. Here, Mehner’s self-portrait is much like those of artist Catharine Opie, with her in-your-face oversized photography that exposes every flaw of a person’s anatomy.  Mehner references the horrible experience his grandmother remembered. Native children were punished  when speaking their native tongue in missionary schools that insisted English be spoken or else.

When I spoke on the phone to Mehner, he said this soap bar image is one of the most talked about themes and graciously welcomed viewers who told their own stories about the Fels Naphtha product. As a child I would spend summers at my grandparent’s home on Martha’s Vineyard, routinely playing in poison ivy. I could still smell that yellow ochre bar being rubbed on my skin to diminish itching.

The second screen holds a looping video showing contemporary Native dancing against traditional Tlingit red and black patterning. The hazy video of reds, blacks and yellows looked as if it was engulfed by flames.  Perhaps this blurred image   shows how older generations are being replaced just as old Tlingit traditions are being updated for contemporary celebrations. Between the clan house screens on the gallery floor is another looping video of a drum being played.  A drum stick occasionally appears and recedes but makes no sound. Clan House with Dancers. Photo by Jean Bundy.

Like a Carl Andre checkerboard, found on most contemporary museum floors, the viewer is presented with a choice, to walk on the image or obey Eurocentric bureaucracy and walk around the piece. Again the museum-goer may superimpose emotions or absorb Mehner’s possible theme about a silent drum as a trope for lost Tlingit culture. Visitors can attempt to stomp out the drum-video or culture but are not in control of its on/off switch.  The head of the drum remains throughout in sharp focus with its red and black mythical imagery–proof of cultural survival.

The third and perhaps most daunting section is a wall piece with eighteen skin drums in alternating rows of threes and twos. Three dimensional self-portraits of Mehner emerge from the drum heads that light up and dim in concert with the artist’s voice performing a chant that permeates all three sections.  Mehner says the song is about the Killer Whale Clan migrating to Chilkat or Sitka after finding themselves either over or under a glacier. Multiple Mehner heads emerging from drums makes him appear almost mystical. This shaman-esque Mehner contrasts with the somewhat commercial Catharine Opie-esque Mehner: two ways cultures have approached portraiture, both used by the artist to get out the Tlingit message.Mehner Emerging from Drum Head. Photo by Jean Bundy.

Mehner’s splicing of his cultures might  be obvious to anyone who has taken  an  art history class where students learn how to dialogue with the artist who left his trace on the art piece. Themes about who is the “self” versus who is the “other” when confronting a work and its message are intriguing to art aficionados but most likely remain invisible to those passing through a gallery on their way to the café or gift shop.  I watched as late summer tourists wandered through the exhibition, bewilderment on their faces. I attempted to engage an Australian family about similarities in indigenous cultures while their two teens whined.

Mehner’s cultural dual citizenship keeps the viewer guessing who is the real “self” and “other,” much like moving pieces on a game board. “Finding My Song” had no brochures to take away for later contemplation and the wall placard offered   minimal explanations, not even the tale of the Killer Whale Clan. One of the highlights of the museum’s Chipperfield wing is the Smithsonian research center where antique masks and mukluks mix with monitors showing contemporary Native lifestyles.

Although the Smithsonian exhibits are arranged in a Eurocentric way similar to many natural history museums, it would have been interesting to suggest to visitors strolling through Mehner’s show that they might visit the museum’s permanent Native collections and compare different ways of respectfully keeping cultures alive. Imagine the conversations and dialogues that could ensue as visitors rolled their luggage through the security at the airport.

Finding My Song by Da-Ka-xeen Mehner is on view at the Anchorage Museum Sept 7 – Nov 11, 2012

[ramzawrites]

Themepark - Donnie and Reader

GN

Pairings: none, but can be read as Donnie x Reader

Characters included: Donnatello

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE ROTTMNT MOVIE

Series: No

Summary: Y/N and Donnie go out of base to look for materials at an abandonded themepark together

Words count: 2951

Authors Note: I noticed I tend to write for the movie in the future since its so open and you can basically do whatever haha, I’m still too hesitant to do anything else but I’m slowly building up confidence to get into the TV show outside the movies or even something for the 2012 series even though I don’t have the perfect memory of that show. It’s been nice to write again though.

When Donnie asked Y/N to help gather some electronics and other pieces they didn’t think he would bring them to an old and understandably abandoned theme park. It was a small one. Nothing amazing but it did have a little rollercoaster. It was small, overgrown without any loopings but still, there it stood. An old reminder of the old world. A time where you could spare the time for some meaningless things like riding a rollercoaster.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they looked around at all the decrepit old buildings that used to house unfair and unwinnable games. In one booth they could still spot a few cans laying around, this had to be the place where you would have been able to play the tin can toss game. The cans were by now bent out of shape and destroyed by rust, so not useful to Donnie but Y/N couldn’t help themself as they took a few steps towards the booth. Taking a tentative look behind the counter.

Surprise, there was only weeds and a few doodads and rotting toys.

“Come on, I’m sure the old rollercoaster has some motors or other pieces I can recycle for us.” Donnie spoke, reminding them why they were here in the first place. He was standing next to them his eyes trained on the little screen on his wrist he was tapping away on. Probably looking at everything that they needed back at their base or doing some calculations or whatever he was always doing on it.

That reminded Y/N of something.

“Hey, Dee. Why bring me along in the first place? You know I don’t know anything about machinery or science or whatever you do, really.”

Not that Y/N didn’t like spending time with Donnatello, after all they have been friends for years now, but they were still sure that someone with a more technological aligned brain could probably help better.

Donnie sighed as he begun moving towards the rollercoaster, his eyes still on the little blue screen “Because of all the people in the base you are currently the least infuriating or annoying one.” He spoke so matter-of-factly it made Y/N chuckle. That was just how he was, and Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, it made it for them easier to communicate with him since he wasn’t scared to say what he was actually thinking. Even if it meant it could hurt others. Not that most cared about at the moment seeing how in the apocalypse there were more pressing matters, like survival and Donnie is one of the most important people when it came to that.

Not only does he set up the security for everyone at the base, but he also set up a reliable communication system, constantly finds new ways to track the Krang, develops new weapons and more. Y/N was pretty sure that without him the whole resistance would crumble in no time.

“Well, I’m honored then. Just tell me what you need from me, and I’ll help you, if anything I do have muscles to carry your things.”

The purple turtle blew some air through his nostrils as a silent chuckle which made Y/N raise their eyebrow “What?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that last training session I was the one who continuously whooped your ass. You spent more time on the mat than fighting me.”

Y/N blew up their cheek in a childish pouting expression “Well you used your Techbo and your mystic powers! That was cheating! I’m just a normal mortal! I’m not some crazy ninja dude like you and your brothers! Literally before this whole mess of a world I was out here just writing music, that I can fight off anything is a crazy thing for me!”

“Hey, I know! You are still alive so that must mean something right? Just think it’s funny you make yourself out to be a meathead when you are actually quite smart yourself.” Donnie was now kneeling at a console next to the rollercoaster. A few carts were still standing on the track. The paint was slowly peeling off and it looked like someone let their anger out on it with a blunt object. Probably exactly what happened. It’s not like anyone will need it and this world did kind of suck, so nothing Y/N could fault this random person in the past. If indeed this was what happened.

Besides Y/N was too busy being a bit surprised at Donnie’s genuine compliment. He called them smart? Well, that was just wrong, wasn’t it? Compared to him they weren’t better than a kindergartener. Which they told him so with a roll of their eyes as they leaned against one of the carts. Watching Donnie pull out rusted cables and gears out of the console.

He just kept on staring at what his actual goal was inside the console as he got out a screwdriver from his battleshell “Mhm, you might not know the same things as I do, I mean who does, really? But you have other places of expertise. You are probably the only one here who can calm anyone down in a panic attack no matter what. I don’t do this whole emotion thing well, but I can recognize the value in having someone around who does.”

It was difficult to argue with Donnie when he stated these things in such a matter-of-factly way.

“Mikey is better than me at it. I swear to god he can make people smile by just being in the same room.”

“But we are not talking about him, besides Mister Mystic Warrior is busy with all kinds of missions that he can’t be there for everyone at all times. Having you around eases a lot of peoples worries. They know they can come to you when they need a shoulder to cry on or in my case talk through logic problems.”

Y/N laughed “All I do is listen really, it’s not like I could help you with amazing insights.”

This time Donnie looked up at Y/N staring right into their eyes “But that is enough. Sometimes that’s all you need.” His head turned back around, still fiddling inside the machine.

“Huh.” Was all Y/N could say to that.

They absentmindedly scratched the back of their neck, looking away along the tracks of the rollercoaster, noticing the heat that begun spreading across their cheeks at Donnie’s genuine compliments. It’s not like it’s the first time both of them had a deep conversation like this but this kind of came out of nowhere and they just really just did not expect it.

Frankly it wasn’t something they thought much about.

A cough from Donnie brough them back down to earth, noticing that the crouched turtle was holding out a piece from the machine. Without missing a beat Y/N slung the backpack back down from their back and took the piece and softly laid it inside.

From that on there was a comfortable silence between the two friends. Donnie kept on working and disassembling the console while Y/N watched him, making sure to keep watch for any Krang so Donnie could work in peace. Occasionally grabbing whatever Donnie was holding out to them to deposit it inside the backpack.

This went on for a couple minutes. Almost felt like half an hour before Donnie decided to break the silence. He was still busy with the console, but he had a bit of a sheepish expression on as he asked “So, uh, you wrote songs? Didn’t know that about you.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him doing small talk “Eh, before all this happened. Went to university for music theory and all. Not that it does me any good here. Haven’t touched an instrument in years now.”

Silence again.

It’s been a while that Y/N really thought back on their old life. They had such high hopes back then. Not entirely sure what they would have done with their life. Maybe taught other people instruments, tried writing and recording songs in a more official manner, maybe made or joined a band? Who knows. God, they used to be so optimistic about life, huh?

“What kind of instruments were you able to play?” Once again it was Donnie who broke the silence.

He never felt the need to fill the silence with idle small talk so something about this must have really made him curious to ask. Y/N’s smile still on their face but now it was mixed with a curious gaze towards their friend, wondering what exactly went through his head.

“Guitar, bass, piano, recorder, violin and a uni friend was beginning to teach me how to play the drums.”

Donnie chuckled “Kind of surprised you’d mention the recorder in all this.”

“It was the very first instrument I learned! It started my long road of music appreciation!”

“You are really a one-man band though. That’s a lot of instruments.”

Y/N shrugged “Well I started from childhood on to learn a ton of different instruments. Kind of accumulated over time, I guess. That said it’s been years so I’m probably rusty and bad as hell.”

With a silent grunt Donnie got back up from the ground. He got out a rag from his battleshell and some disinfectant to clean his hands. Y/N would have asked once again why they were here in the first place when he basically had pandoras box on his back, but they enjoyed the time together right now too much to question the validity of it all.

He leaned against the same cart as Y/N, taking the backpack from their hands to take a look inside and then typing on his wrist screen. Probably writing down all the little things he found to better keep stock of it. Donnie then handed the backpack back to Y/N, who in return expected him to move on to take a look at whatever else he could find here but he didn’t move. Instead, he just crossed his arms in front of his plastron. Staring ahead. His eyes darting around here and there, probably just keeping watch. It was something everyone was doing automatically at this point.

“I’m guessing you didn’t need these pieces as desperately as I first thought, and you just wanted to get out of the base.” Y/N stated suddenly.

Donnie just nodded “I mean, of course there are always pieces I desperately need and all but most of them are deep in Krang territory and this was a low-profile place so might as well and honestly as much as I love being in my lab I just needed to get outside for a moment. Would have gone alone but Leon would have chewed me out for this, so I took you along because you seem to be okay with just sitting around in silence. It doesn’t feel as awkward, I guess.”

“Aww, look at Dee, showing emotions.” Y/N laughed, they would have pulled on his cheeks as well to really annoy him, but they knew he didn’t like unprompted touch, so they refrained from doing so, satisfied to just verbally tease him.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. You needed this too, I know you well enough now to see when you are stuck in your own head. You were beginning to bury yourself in work again and we both met way too often in the kitchen to get more coffee. You are not sleeping much and as the resident insomniac I of course took notice.” He sputtered out.

Yeah, he was a good friend. He says he is not good with emotions, but this was really considerate and just nice of him. A sense of pride begun swelling inside Y/N’s chest as they realized what was happening. Maybe it was just the feeling of knowing there are people out there who cared for them and took notice when things got too much. As much as this whole situation of the world sucked, they still had people like Donnie around who made it easier.

“Hey, Dee, you wanna take a look at the booths and see if maybe some toys survived the years? Maybe we can find like a Jupiter Jim keychain or something.”

At the mention of Jupiter Jim Donnie’s eyes lit up. He may be an adult turtle mutant who fought to survive every day, but you can’t seem to take the Jupiter Jim fanboy out of him no matter what.

As Donnie got up from leaning against the cart, Y/N stopped him “Wait! Actually! Let’s make it a game. Let’s go treasure diving and compare what we find in a half an hour.”

Donnie narrowed his eyes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Y/N didn’t need to know what exactly went through his head to know it wasn’t good “Ah! No fancy tech! Just your eyes and hands!”

They seemed to have hit the nail on the head since Donnie immediately groaned in annoyance and let his head hang in defeat “You all never let me go all out. Scoff!” He was so dramatic sometimes, which always made Y/N chuckle in return.

“Hey, I don’t have fancy shmancy tech or magic, it would be unfair!”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Donnatello.”

“Yeah, yeah got it. I’ll play fair.”

The half an hour passed way too fast. Both Y/N and Donnie ran around the abandoned theme park as if their butts were on fire. Trying to find anything useful or interesting to show off. Both had to remind themselves multiple times to be a bit more quieter as they physically began breaking apart the booths and boxes to find something of note.

They met at what used to be a café, a few tables were still standing which was perfect to show off each other’s loot. For half an hour it really wasn’t as much as Y/N had hoped but what can you do, these things were exposed to the elements for more than ten years.

Y/N found a few plastic keychains, still packaged balloons that would probably not work even if they were in a plastic package but still, a cowboy hat and their true treasure, a Jupiter Jim themed plush. It was a dog from one of the Jupiter Jim’s last journey to the moon movies. It was dirty as hell, but it did not have any tears anywhere and didn’t smell too bad. So, Y/N counted this as a win.

But when Donnie showed off his loot, Y/N was convinced he cheated. There were kazoos, a plastic watch which was one hundred percent broken but still looked fine, a Jupiter Jim themed Yo-Yo, a Jupiter Jim helmet, and a Jupiter Jim plush.

“No way in hell did you just find this like this. You cheated somehow, didn’t you?!”

But Donnie just cackled “I would not go back on my word like that! Nay, I say! I was just smart enough trying to look for the place they probably stored all their extra things in and judging by your reaction you too think that my haul was better than yours! So, I won!”

“Unbelievable.”

“Not everyone can have an intellect like me, Y/N. Do not be disheartened.”

Y/N ignored this comment as per usual, instead busy stuffing their haul inside their bag only for Donnie to approach and throw his own in as well. Might as well take these things with them. Might make someone at the base happy. Well, the Jupiter Jim things will probably end up in Donnie’s lab or quarters.

“I just noticed we never decided what the winner would get.” Donnie suddenly noted.

“What, boasting about your win isn’t enough?” Y/N rolled their eyes.

He just nodded “Of course. A winner should get something.”

Y/N just sighed “No idea what I could give you. It’s not like there is much to give. If this place were up and running though I’d offer to buy you a round on the rollercoaster.” They said the last part more quieter. Anything that mentioned how life used to be was difficult to say out loud.

Donnie tapped his own mouth as he begun thinking “I have an idea. I want you, if you still remember, to show me some of your songs you have written.”

This made Y/N choke on air, not expecting this in the least “What? I don’t… I never… I usually … I mean I used to play them on my guitar which I don’t have and haven’t done in years I don’t… Donnie it’s been over a decade.”

“Don’t you think the genius Donnatello can‘t get you a guitar? Besides you made me really curious now, so please? As a fellow lover of music, I haven’t taken the time to really talk or listen to music with anyone else.”

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows “You like music too? You never mentioned it.”

Donnie shrugged “You never asked. But yeah, I’ve got quite the moves, when the music comes on I gotta dance. Dancing is one of my few passions in life. So, come on!”

“Alright, alright. But just you. I also need time to warm up again. I have to see what I remember or if I have anything saved on my phone. But I’m just going to show it to you, because you won this stupid game, got it?”

He pumped the air in victory “Yes, for I am the victor! Also don’t call the game stupid if you are the one who came up with it.”

“Yeah, whatever, brainiac. Let’s go back to base before Leo sends someone to find us.”

“I’m so excited now!”

“God it’s so embarrassing though!”

“Exactly!”

“You are so mean, dude!”

[kavaeric]

Hello everyone. You're probably aware of the debacle going down on Twitter right now, and so you can probably guess why I'm here. I have some posts of my old art backlog that will go into the queue, just so this place won't be so empty. For those who are new: hi! Check my bio for more info on me.

I don't plan on "leaving" my Twitter until I'm legitimately forced off of the platform, or when I think putting the effort into maintaining it is too much of a burden. That said, I'm preparing for contingencies like anyone else, so I'm using it as an excuse to dust this off.

💬Why Tumblr?

It's been a while since I've been back on Tumblr. I think the last time I actually touched this place was maybe 2019, but the last time I really used this place was maybe back in 2015 or 2016 or so.

This was the first social media site I used growing up, I probably joined back in 2012 or 2013. I had a pretty sizeable audience then already—if you remember the "Abandoned Tumblr" photobashes, the Photoshop works of deteriorating, cracked, rusted Tumblr dashboards, that was my work. More importantly though this was the place where I connected with an art and furry community for the first time properly.

Most of us left to Twitter during the NSFW ban, but it seems now with the man in charge of Twitter attempting to beat Liz Truss' speedrun of destroying the livelihoods of millions, Tumblr has also loosened up restrictions and has become more appealing for artists (including predominantly SFW artists like myself). Well, whatever, it's the next best thing for having an audience.

I did miss a little bit of the theme customisation and the ability to really post a more varied selection of content along with customising its display (e.g., photoset grids), although it has that bit of a bittersweet air to it. It reminds me of how, back in 2017, not long after I stopped really using Tumblr, I dropped out of university in the United Kingdom and had to return back to my hometown.

How ironic.

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 10th Studio Album: ‘Midnights’

You would expect by the time a pop star has spent over 15 years in the spotlight that they would run out of steam. But on her 10th studio album, Midnights, Taylor Swift is as energized as ever. Even more impressive, the debut numbers are the biggest of her career yet, landing on a whopping 1.578 million, 1.1 million of those in pure album sales alone. These first week numbers are even larger than that of 1989, which is a huge feat.

Many pieces factor into success like what we’re seeing in this case. One is Swift’s exceptional marketing skills. Her dedicated fans will come out in droves to purchase her art, and the mysterious buzz that centered around the album intrigued the public to tune in. The star’s highly acclaimed releases of folklore (2021’s album of the year) and evermore (a 2022 album of the year nominee) during the pandemic certainly brought in a ton of new fans who perhaps overlooked her sharp lyricism before. But Taylor wants you to know that despite her magical stay in the forest and woodlands, she is in fact still bejeweled, and ready to remind everyone how much her shine still shimmers as a pop titan.

Presented as a loose concept album, Midnights centers on 13 sleepless nights throughout Taylor’s life (plus 7 songs on the “3am edition” that also fit the theme). Surely as she has been re-recording her albums as Taylor’s Versions, old feelings and memories have come to the surface that she is revisiting from a new perspective. Midnights still showcases Swift’s unmatched lyrical ability while taking us on a Jack Antonoff led synth journey.

1. Lavender Haze “All they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride,” Swift laments on the opening track “Lavender Haze.” Which is funny because she spent 2019’s Lover with a bridge of wedding vows and a song about marrying her boyfriend of 6 years now, actor Joe Alwyn, with paper rings. But it is also an astute observation on how the world sees women, as she rejects “the 1950s shit they want from me.” She doesn’t want to follow anyone else’s wishes or timelines, or answer anyone’s questions, she just wants to stay staring at the ceiling with her partner, immersed in the lavender haze (a saying she caught from an episode of Mad Men). She knows that’s where she’s safest, because she’s “damned if I do give a damn what people say.” As an opening track, it delivers sonically and melodically, even in its smaller moments (the little “yeah oh yeah”s in the pre chorus are addictive), it’s a grand number.  Best lyric: “I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say.”

2. Maroon The title track of Swift’s project Red is placed at track two. So it’s no surprise that Swift placed a song with red shade as its title in the same spot. “Maroon” details all the little scarlet moments throughout the ups and downs of a relationship, some examples including wine, hickeys, the sky, and rust. The first verse shows the relationship at its peak, “laughing with my feet in your lap, like you were my closest friend,” and the second verse juxtaposes it with its breakdown, “sobbing with your head in your hands, ain’t that the way shit always ends?” The final chorus on the track holds some of Taylor’s most interesting (and sensual) vocal delivery to date, her lower register extremely impressive and underrated. Best lyric: “The rust that grew between telephones.”

3. Anti-Hero Do you remember in 2012 when everyone and their father would make jokes that Taylor Swift should write a song called “Maybe I’m The Problem” as a response to her breakup songs? Well, ten years later, she gave them something very close to what they asked. “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me,” she sings in the chorus of the lead single “Anti-Hero” (though not released prior to the album), which Swift claims to be one of her favorite songs she’s ever written. On folklore and evermore, Taylor sang about mental health struggles without explicitly saying that she was the subject of those songs. However, here, it is clearly autobiographical without question. As a fan, to hear her so blatantly say “my depression” in a song was both jarring and relatable. The track lays out her intrusive thoughts about herself, her maladaptive behaviors, ignoring people or pushing loved ones away instead of letting them in. While she sings “I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror,” the song shows how much her music is safe haven for her to sneak a glance at her reflection.  Best lyric: “Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism, like some kind of congressman?”

4. Snow On The Beach (ft. Lana Del Rey) The dreamy “Snow On The Beach” is a romantic love ballad in which Swift is mesmerized by the fact that the person she wants actually wants her back. She can’t quite believe their love, and she’s afraid if she speaks of it, she’ll find out it was an illusion all along. Throughout Swift’s music, and especially in this song, she uses light to describe her partner, singing “I’ve never seen someone lit from within, blurring out my periphery.” While Lana Del Rey, someone Swift hails as one of her musical idols, mostly singing background vocals might seem like an odd choice, just like seeing snow on the beach, it’s “weird, but fucking beautiful.” Best lyric: “Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful.”

5. You’re On Your Own, Kid “You’re On Your Own, Kid” is a journey through Swift’s life and career thus far. The song starts by detailing an unrequited love, which leads her to writing songs in her room and playing them in the parking lot, eventually running away and pursuing her dream of becoming a star. And although her dreams aren’t rare, her success surely is. But even at the height of her success, no longer sitting by herself at the lunch table at junior high, she still found herself alone. “I hosted parties and starved my body, like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss / The jokes weren’t funny, I took the money, my friends from home don’t know what to say.” She was degraded by the public and degraded herself. And just as things got better, her life’s work that she put her blood, sweat, and tears into was sold out from under her. But the Taylor’s Versions have been able to give her some solace, “Everything you lose is a step you take.” She ends the song on a hopeful note, reminding herself that she doesn’t have to be afraid; she’s always been on her own and she’s always made it through, and she always will. And the listener can resonate too. We’re all truly on our own at the end of the day, but we’ve gotten this far; we can keep going. Best lyric: “I hosted parties and starved my body, like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss.”

6. Midnight Rain On “Midnight Rain,” Taylor highlights the differences between the life she could’ve had and the life she pursued. “He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain / he wanted a bride, I was making my own name,” she (and a distorted voice) sings in the chorus. That life of a small-town girl is far away now, and not one she ever truly wanted, but one she sometimes sneaks a peak at through postcards and time portals and wonders what it might be like. Similar to “Lavender Haze,” this track establishes Swift’s aversion to societal standards, and her embracement of constantly changing and evolving, as evident through her music and career to date. It’s a real catchy ear worm, and after a few listens you really learn to love that voice distortion. Best lyric: “He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain.”

7. Question…? While Taylor leaves many hints as to what or who some of her songs might be about, “Question…?” Has one of her most obvious clues to date, as the song starts with a sampling of her song “Out of the Woods” from 1989, a song famously known to be about her relationship with Harry Styles. Not only is there the sample, but also lyrical parallels. “The rest of the world was black and white / but we were in screaming color,” she sings on “Out of the Woods.” On “Question…?” She says, “I don’t remember who I was before you painted all my nights a color I’ve searched for since.” One could assume while going back and rerecording 1989, she may have reflected on the relationship, with questions popping up. While it seems as if Swift knows the answers to these questions already, she still wants to ask them and get the confirmation and closure she’s searching for, a very relatable feeling. Just like in life, though, she doesn’t get any explicit answers in the song, but maybe she doesn’t need them anymore, anyway. Best lyric: “Does it feel like everything’s just like second best after that meteor strike?”

8. Vigilante Shit When listing the things that kept Taylor up at night, serving as inspiration for this album, one thing she cites is plotting revenge. In the revenge fantasy “Vigilante Shit,” Swift tips off the FBI about her enemy (presumably Sc**ter Br**n) and his “white collar crimes,” and assists his ex-wife in winning their divorce. “I don’t start shit, but I can tell you how it ends,” she croons. Which, historically, is true. Swift has rarely been the instigator of a feud or fight, but when she’s targeted, she comes back on top every time. After all, karma is her boyfriend. Best lyric: “Ladies always rise above, ladies know what people want / someone sweet, and kind, and fun / the lady simply had enough.”

9. Bejeweled “Bejeweled” is an exciting and fun pop song about letting go of the people and things that drag you down and allowing yourself to shimmer again. We can surmise that “Bejeweled” represents a night during a dead-end relationship where she finally prioritized herself again and learned she can still shine on her own right. In a radio interview, Swift said that “Bejeweled” mirrored her re-entrance into the pop landscape after her folk escapades, and that she had to pump herself back up into believing that she could still do it. The track itself proves that Swift stills rules without competition. Best lyric: “And when I meet the band, they ask, ‘Do you have a man?’ I could still say, ‘I don’t remember.’”

10. Labyrinth One of the few ballads on the standard edition, “Labyrinth” tracks Taylor’s thought process as she realizes she’s falling in love again, despite all of her fears after being burned in the past. She laments her pain and acknowledges her worries. The progression from “uh oh,” to “oh no,” to “oh,” before the line “I’m falling in love,” shows her trepidation turned to acceptance, due to the length’s this person would go to just to make her smile. While there are some synth sounds that seem slightly out of place, overall it is a song anyone who is learning to open up their hearts after being hurt can relate to. Best lyric: “Break up, break free, break through, break down.”

11. Karma “Ask me why so many fade, but I’m still here,” she sings on “Karma.” The answer? One could be her incredible talent and hard work ethic. But an additional answer is because her and karma vibe like that. In this catchy pop hit, Taylor reaps the rewards of staying true to who she is while karma takes down her enemies who never keep their side of the street clean. She knows karma is on her side, and she can relax trusting that it’ll do its thing. And so far, it has served her well. In the most Taylor Swift™ fashion of all time, she compares karma to a cat purring in her lap because it loves her. And it is! It does! Best lyric: “Karma’s a relaxing thought / aren’t you envious that for you it’s not?”

12. Sweet Nothing Co-penned by William Bowery aka Joe Alwyn, “Sweet Nothing” is a love song from Swift to Alwyn. She discusses all the negative things going on around her and the way people push and shove to get a piece of her, while her partner is just in the kitchen humming, asking nothing of her, just loving her as she is. We get a brief peak into their dynamic in the truly sweet lyric, “On the way home, I wrote a poem / you say, ‘what a mind,’ this happens all the time.” To be loved for your mind rather than your status is a gift for someone like Swift. I’m sure the poems are lovely. Best lyric: “Outside, they’re push and shoving, you’re in the kitchen humming / all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.”

13. Mastermind A word that has been weaponized against Taylor over the years is “calculated.” On “Mastermind,” the standard edition’s closing track, she owns the claim, singing, “I’m only cryptic and Machiavellian cuz I care.” “Mastermind” is Taylor’s confession to her partner that she masterminded their entire relationship from the first night he saw her. She confides in him in one of her most personal lyrics yet, singing, “No one wanted to play with me as a little kid / so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since / to make them love me and make it seem effortless.” She thought no one could love her unless she tricked them into it. But upon her confession, his smile proves her wrong, because he knew the entire time that she thought she was masterminding their relationship, but in reality he went along with it because he wanted her too, schemes and all. She finally found her effortless love. Best lyric: “No one wanted to play with me as a little kid / so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since / to make them love me and make it seem effortless.”

3am Tracks

14. The Great War On the first 3am track, Taylor teams back up with her other folklore & evermore collaborator, Aaron Dessner of The National. “The Great War” seems to be about a fight in a relationship, and Swift’s difficulty bouncing back from it. She lays out her lack of trust from past relationships and how that has interfered with reconciliation efforts, as she sings, “And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt / telling me to punish you for things you never did.” But despite some of these maladaptive behaviors, her partner still reached for her hand, trying to make things right. And they did it, they survived, and that survival brought back her faith.  Best lyric: “You drew up some good faith treaties / I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone.”

15. Bigger Than The Whole Sky “Bigger Than The Whole Sky” is a song about loss. Although the loss of exactly what is unclear, the grief is palpable. She searches for what might have caused such a tragedy, wondering if she was at fault. There are so many questions in grief to which we never receive answers. This song has resonated with many fans online, relating it to their own personal experiences of miscarriages, deaths, and pet losses.  Best lyric: “Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness.”

16. Paris In this fun pop song, Taylor compares the view of her partner to that of the city of Paris. She’s so in love that she might stop breathing, that she doesn't care about her friends’ gossip or what’s on the news. She’s transported into a world of romance where nothing else matters, where alleyways appear and cheap wine tastes like champagne. It’s the excitement of completely falling into someone as the rest of the world fades away. Best lyric: “I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever.”

17. High Infidelity “High Infidelity” is an intriguing track, produced by Aaron Dessner, about the end of an unhappy relationship. We can presume that she is referring to her ex, the DJ known as Calvin Harris, her previous long-term boyfriend before meeting her current partner, with lyrics like “put on your records and regret me” and “put on your headphones and burn my city.” In the song, Swift is implying that there was some type of infidelity, whether physical or emotional only is not quite clear, but either way she admits, “I bent the truth too far tonight,” and asks, “do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?” But she didn’t think it would matter much to him, and is surprised by his sense of betrayal and hurt, but not particularly remorseful. Best lyric: “You know there’s many different ways that you can kill the one you love / the slowest way is never loving them enough.”

18. Glitch Another Antonoff produced track written alongside Sam Dew and Mark Anthony Spears, “Glitch,” is one of the sexier tracks on the album. The concept is that Taylor can’t quite fathom how this love of hers has worked out for 2,190 days (that’s 6 years, if you didn’t know) and counting when all she’s been used to is situation-ships and dudes who give nothing. So if it’s lasted this long, it’s gotta be a glitch in the system, right? Best lyric: “And I’m not even sorry / nights are so starry, blood moonlit.”

19. Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve While “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” is arguably one of the best tracks on all of Midnights, everything Swift does is for a reason. When you listen to the song, it becomes quite evident why she put it at track 19. “And I damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at 19,” she sings. As an avid fan, you immediately hear the echoing of the best song on her third album Speak Now, “Dear John,” which has the lyric, “don’t you think 19’s too young to be played by your dark twisted games when I loved you so?” And it becomes clear what she’s discussing: the power dynamic in her relationship when she was 19 with John Mayer, who was 32 at the time (Swift’s current age). One could assume rerecording Speak Now (which Swift has highly hinted at being the next rerelease) brought up some old feelings. “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve,” is a powerful track filled with intense regret. She describes him as a “promising grown man,” putting a spin on the monicker often given in defense of younger men who abuse women. She likens the relationship to religion: “you’re a crisis of my faith,” “all I used to do was pray,” “gone along with the righteous.” This was a man that she idolized, and the fall from his pedestal crushed her in irreparable ways. “Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first,” she pleads with a heart wrenching ache in her voice. It’s hard to listen to this song without feeling pain for her, especially as she ups the octave for the outro, making the regret feel more urgent, more palpable. Best lyric: “God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be / the tomb won’t close, stained-glass windows in my mind / I regret you all the time.”

20. Dear Reader The 3am edition closing track is “Dear Reader,” a letter to her listeners. She gives advice about avoiding traps, starting over, keeping secrets, and aiming for the devil. But she also gives the caveat, “Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart,” supposedly referring to herself. But the best advice comes from those who have fallen, who have experience, who feel a range of emotions quite like Swift does. That’s why she is so popular; because people can relate to her words and they keep them close to their hearts. “You should find another guiding light,” she suggests. But this sign can’t stop me because I can’t read! Best lyric: “You don’t have to answer just cuz they asked you.”

Target Deluxe Edition

Hits Different The Target Deluxe Edition exclusive song “Hits Different” marks the return of Swift, Dessner, and Antonoff all together. The song feels very vintage Swift, almost like it could’ve been a recent “From The Vault” track. “Hits Different” is about a breakup that is much harder to get over than any other she’s experienced. She hears their song everywhere, she stops receiving invitations because she can’t stop slurring his name when she’s out with friends, she cries over a hat. She’s so far gone in this breakup that she thinks people are coming to take her away. Anyone who has experienced a tough breakup could probably find a lyric in this song to which they can relate. But even without being able to relate, it’s a fun, funny, enjoyable track served as a nice treat for loyal fans who actually go out and buy CDs these days. Best lyric: “I pictured you with other girls, in love / then threw up on the street.”

---

In conclusion, 16 years into her career, you best believe Taylor Swift is definitely still bejeweled, and on Midnights she shimmers more than she ever has, even when touching on long-gone relationships and peering into old wounds, being more vulnerable than she has on projects past. Each album and era seems like her peak, yet she continues to outdo herself in multiple ways. With more Taylor’s Versions on the horizon, hopefully Swift will continue to gain inspiration in various ways as a result of revisiting her old work. But if she doesn’t, we know she’s always got some tricks up her sleeve.

DISCLAIMER - REVIEWER’S BIAS: Taylor Swift is the mother I never had, she is the sister everybody would want, she is the friend that everybody deserves. I don’t know a better person.

[april-is]

April 1, 2022: New Year, Kate Baer

New Year Kate Baer

Look at it, cold and wet like a newborn calf. I want to tell it everything—how we struggled, how we tore out our hair and thumbed through rusted nails just to stand for its birth. I want to say: look how far we’ve come. Promise our resolutions.

But what does a baby care for oaths and pledges? It only wants to live.

==

Hi. How are you? Shall we do this thing?

As a reminder, you can get a daily poem emailed to you in April by signing up here. Or catch it via Twitter, this Tumblr, or RSS. I’m glad you’re here.

==

Today in:

2021: Instructions on Not Giving Up, Ada Limón 2020: Motto, Bertolt Brecht 2019: Separation, W.S. Merwin 2018: Good Bones, Maggie Smith 2017: Better Days, A.F. Moritz 2016: Jenny Kiss’d Me, Leigh Hunt 2015: The Night House, Billy Collins 2014: Tim Riggins Speaks of Waterfalls, Nico Alvarado 2013: Nan Hardwicke Turns Into a Hare, Wendy Pratt 2012: A Short History of the Apple, Dorianne Laux 2011: New York Poem, Terrance Hayes 2010: On Wanting to Tell [ ] about a Girl Eating Fish Eyes, Mary Szybist 2009: A Little Tooth, Thomas Lux 2008: The Sciences Sing a Lullabye, Albert Goldbarth 2007: Elegy of Fortinbras, Zbigniew Herbert 2006: When Leather is a Whip, by Martin Espada 2005: Parents, William Meredith

[hieroglyphicsqiosang]

you look like a GAY PIRATE. ​​​​

Matthew McConaughey in  Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (2009)

(from Crash95)