#the way it made a rhyme and then immediately broke it? ART.

[fauxetry]

Roses are red

Violets are you

Planning to head

Down to the pub

---

Disillusion, centre key and starting line ("Roses are red violets are"), 26/10/2024

[iwanthermidnightz]

Taylor Swift is best known and beloved as a storyteller, often weaving personal details, cultural references, and double entendres into her songs.

"I love to communicate via Easter eggs. I think the best messages are cryptic ones," she told Entertainment Weekly in 2019. She cited clothing, jewelry, and music-video sets as favored hiding spots, adding that she has been "encoding messages into the lyrics" since her debut album in 2006.

Because Swift is proudly meticulous and intentional with her art, fans delight in dissecting her lyrics and visuals, treating each album like a trail of breadcrumbs to be found and interpreted.

A certain branch of Swifties, known as "Gaylors," have long found queer subtext and themes in her music — particularly sapphic listeners who find solace and camaraderie in Swift's accounts of quiet yearning, forbidden love, and female intimacy.

In fact, some believe that dismissing the queer narratives in Swift's music does "a disservice to her genius and lyrical prowess."

Songs like "Welcome to New York" and "You Need to Calm Down" boast overt nods to LGBTQ causes, while others contain subtle phrases and slang that are widely known within the gay community — and therefore highly unlikely to have flown beneath Swift's diligent radar.

Insider's music team analyzed 31 songs in Swift's catalog from a queer perspective, listed below in chronological order.

"Mary's Song (Oh My My My)"

"Mary's Song (Oh My My My)" was apparently inspired by a couple who lived next door to Swift's family while she was growing up.

Swift seems to narrate the story from Mary's perspective, opening with a female pronoun: "She said, I was 7 and you were 9 / I looked at you like the stars that shined."

Because the other half of the couple is neither named nor gendered in the lyrics, Swift seems to fill the role herself, as if she and Mary share these intimate memories ("Our very first fight," "Our favorite spot in town").

Their relationship is defined by fate, but also by disbelief: "Our daddies used to joke about the two of us / They never believed we'd really fall in love." This could point to attraction that breaks with convention, or a fantasy tinged with the fear of familial rejection.

Notably, those fathers are mentioned in the first two verses but absent in the final chorus, when Swift recounts Mary's wedding.

"The Very First Night"

"The Very First Night" was released as a vault track on "Red (Taylor's Version)," meaning it was cut from the album's original tracklist in 2012.

Fans immediately found the song notable for its apparent bait-and-switch.

In the pre-chorus, Swift sings, "They don't know about the night in the hotel / They weren't riding in the car when we both fell," establishing a classic rhyme scheme known as AA BB.

However, the next couplet doesn't rhyme: "Didn't read the note on the Polaroid picture / They don't know how much I miss you."

The final "you" is jarring since the ear is trained to expect a four-line stanza made up of two rhyming couplets. "Her" would have been the natural word here, and the substitution seems designed to be obvious — particularly for a lyrical expert like Swift.

This strategy continues throughout the song as she pairs words like "whispered" and "whisper" with "you." 

The song also features the lyric, "We broke the status quo / Then we broke each other's hearts." It's difficult to argue that Swift having secret rendezvous with a man would break the status quo in any significant way.

"Welcome to New York"

"Welcome to New York" is the opening track of "1989," Swift's official pivot to pop.

She said the album was largely inspired by the "celebration of being unique" in New York City, noting the "freedom" she felt after moving there.

"Everybody here was someone else before," she sings in the second verse. "And you can want who you want / Boys and boys and girls and girls."

When asked specifically about the aforementioned line on a 2014 episode of "The Talk," Swift responded, "I wrote the song kind of following when gay marriage became legal in New York."

"So many of my friends had to be kind of scrutinized for who they were in love with from the time they came out," she continued. "I didn't want to make a big deal of it because I don't think it should be a big deal who you love."

The state of New York legalized same-sex marriage in June 2011. Swift moved to the city three years later in March 2014 and released "1989" in October of that year. 

"Style"

"Style" is ostensibly about Harry Styles, whom Swift reportedly dated in late 2012 and early 2013. But the lyrics describe a relationship that evades commitment and clear boundaries, so both people were romantic with others in their downtime.

"I say, 'I heard that you've been out and about with some other girl,'" Swift sings in the second verse. "He says, 'What you heard is true but I can't stop thinking 'bout you and I.'"

Swift replies: "I've been there too a few times."

Given the vague phrasing, this could easily be interpreted to mean that Swift had also been "out and about with some other girl."

Swift kept her interpretation similarly vague while discussing the line with Ryan Seacrest in 2014.

"It's basically one of those relationships that's always a bit off. The two people are trying to forget each other, they both have been out with other people and are trying to forget one another," she explained. "So, it's like, 'Alright, I heard you went off with her and you came back, and well, I've done that, too.'"

"Out of the Woods"

"Out of the Woods" recycles the image of a Polaroid picture that Swift used in "The Very First Night," perhaps indicating the songs were inspired by the same person.

"You took a Polaroid of us / Then discovered / The rest of the world was black and white / But we were in screaming color," she sings in the first verse.

The juxtaposition between the monochromatic world and the relationship's "screaming color" carries the implication of a queer awakening, as gay pride is heavily associated with vibrance and rainbows.

"Out of the Woods" also embodies an anxious, claustrophobic feeling that many closeted queer people may relate to. Swift draws a parallel between the thrill of falling in love and the fear of being discovered.

"I Wish You Would"

"I Wish You Would" features the lyric "We're a crooked love in a straight line down," which echoes the prejudiced idea that queer love is deviant, unnatural, or "crooked" in a culture that deems being straight as the standard. 

"How You Get the Girl"

"The song 'How You Get the Girl' is a song that I wrote about how you get the girl back if you ruined the relationship somehow and she won't talk to you anymore," Swift told Audacy in 2014.

"Like, if you broke up with her and left her on her own for six months and then you realize you miss her," she continued. "All the steps you have to do to edge your way back into her life, because she's probably pretty mad at you. So it's kind of a tutorial."

While this song could be read as Swift doling out advice for clueless men, it's not outrageous to imagine that she's speaking from experience. Because Swift only uses "she" and "her" pronouns throughout the song, both interpretations are able to coexist.

"Wonderland"

"Wonderland" is a source of much speculation among Swift's fans. The song is built upon a bed of references to "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," the famous 1865 novel by Lewis Carroll that was animated by Disney in 1951.

Swift uses "falling down the rabbit hole," which transports Alice to Wonderland, as an extended metaphor for falling in love.

"Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?" is a nod to Alice's observation that "curiosity often leads to trouble." Swift also aligns herself with the book's band of outsiders with the lines, "Too in love to think straight" and "We both went mad."

Many fans have noted that Dianna Agron — who was frequently photographed with Swift in 2011 and 2012 before abruptly distancing from each other in 2013 — had a "Wonderland" quote tattooed on her ribcage that has since been removed. She also reportedly had a Tumblr, deleted in 2013, that was called "felldowntherabbithole."

"I believe that love comes in many ways, shapes, and colors," Agron told Nylon in 2015. "I feel proud that we as a society are starting to understand and support more than just the social norms."

"New Romantics"

Just the title of "New Romantics" could be interpreted as a cheeky nod to queerness, especially since the public support for gay marriage began hitting new highs in the years that Swift wrote "1989."

"'Cause baby, I could build a castle / Out of all the bricks they threw at me," she sings in the chorus.

Throwing bricks is symbolically linked with the 1969 protest at Stonewall Inn in New York City, which is often cited as a turning point in the national fight for LGBTQ liberation.

It's safe to say Swift is aware of this history: She gave a surprise performance at Stonewall Inn in 2019 and included a nod to the landmark in her music video for "You Need to Calm Down." (Ryan Reynolds is shown creating a painting of its facade.) 

Another noteworthy lyric arrives in the second verse when Swift sings, "The rumors are terrible and cruel / But, honey, most of them are true."

"Don't Blame Me"

"Don't Blame Me" employs drug use as a metaphor for love, broadly evoking themes of experimentation and rebellion.

In the first verse, Swift draws a contrast between the men she's used as "playthings" and a new kind of relationship, one that's authentic and private: "Something happened for the first time / In the darkest little paradise." Shortly after, she admits, "For you, I would cross the line."

In the second verse, she gets more specific: "Halo hiding my obsession / I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy."

Fans have theorized this points to Karlie Kloss, Swift's one-time best friend. They were nearly inseparable for several years before a rumored rift in 2018.

Kloss is best known as a model and Victoria's Secret Angel. When Swift performed at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show in 2013 and 2014, the two women would exchange playful touches and strut down the runway holding hands ("Halo hiding my obsession"). 

In March 2014, the duo took a road trip through Big Sur, which Kloss described as "an adventure of a lifetime with my girl." She also shared a photo of a yellow daisy, tagging Swift as the center of the flower ("Now I'm your daisy").

"Gorgeous"

"Gorgeous" is plainly about forbidden love — or, more accurately, forbidden attraction. Swift is agonized by the subject's beauty because, as she admits, "there's nothing I hate more than what I can't have." 

This song could certainly be about Joe Alwyn, Swift's current partner of nearly six years, who she may have met while dating another man. 

It could also be about sapphic desire. As Lindsay Zoladz wrote for The Ringer, "the listener has to accept that there exists something, or someone, that Pop Overlord Taylor Swift cannot immediately command with the snap of a beautifully manicured finger."

"Doesn't 'Gorgeous' sound like it's about having a crush on a woman?" Zoladz continued. "Wouldn't that be the only kind of love forbidden to Taylor 'I'd Never Alienate My Republican Fan Base' Swift?"

(Note: "Gorgeous" was written and released several years before Swift expressed liberal political views and aligned herself with the LGBTQ community.)

(Also note: During the "Reputation" stadium tour, Swift would use the song to introduce the "gorgeous women" onstage with her.)

"Dancing With Our Hands Tied"

"Dancing With Our Hands Tied" is another example of Swift associating love with anxiety and panic, a striking motif of both "Reputation" and "Lover."

The title applies a common idiom, "used to say that someone is unable to act freely because something (such as a rule or law) prevents it," according to Merriam-Webster.

As a hyper-famous woman, Swift is likely "unable to act freely" in a new relationship for fear of rumors, tabloids, and paparazzi.

In a queer context, "Dancing With Our Hands Tied" captures the fear of coming out and being met with homophobia. This is illustrated in the song's second verse: "I loved you in spite of / Deep fears that the world would divide us."

"Dress"

During every show on the "Reputation" stadium tour, Swift would dedicate "Dress" to Loie Fuller, a pioneer of modern dance and an out lesbian. According to Vogue, who photographed Fuller in 1913, she lived with her girlfriend from 1905 until her death.

"Dress" is perhaps Swift's most explicitly sexual song ("Only bought this dress so you could take it off"). Although Swift is a noted fan of wearing dresses, it's possible to read this line as the song's subject taking off her own dress.

"Dress" also includes the line "I don't want you like a best friend" twice in each chorus, indicating a friends-to-lovers arc. This is notable because, one, falling in love with your best friend is canonically queer, and two, Kloss described Swift as her best friend on more than one occasion.

Later, Swift sings defiantly, "Everyone thinks that they know us / But they know nothing about us." This doesn't seem to match the tone of Swift's relationship with Alwyn. At the time "Reputation" was released, the public knew hardly any information about their dynamic or history.

"They have quite a low-key relationship, which Taylor likes," Swift's pal Ed Sheeran said in October 2017. "It's normal, and no one really knows about it right now."

Even the song's name invites speculation that it could be about a queer relationship. Put plainly, the song is about sex — so it's interesting that she represented that concept with a dress, a widely recognized symbol of femininity.

"Me!"

Swift described her seventh album "Lover" as "very, very autobiographical," citing "extreme catchiness and moments of extreme personal confession."

She released its lead single on April 26, which is recognized nationally as Lesbian Visibility Day. She promoted the flamboyant music video with a post on Instagram, writing in the caption, "ME! Out now!"

She seems to nod to the gay-pride flag in both the video and the lyrics, singing of herself, "But one of these things is not like the others / Like a rainbow with all of the colors."

In her Netflix documentary "Miss Americana," Swift explained the video's aesthetic concept to Brendon Urie, who is featured on the song.

"Whatever makes you, you — emo kids, theatre, dance sequences, 'La La Land,' everything," she began, to which Urie replied, "Nailed it."

"And when it's me, it's like — dancers, cats, gay pride, people in country western boots. I start riding a unicorn," she continued. "Everything that makes me, me."

"You Need to Calm Down"

"You Need to Calm Down" is Swift's most emphatic declaration of support for the LGBTQ community.

Although Swift doesn't explicitly identify herself as a member of the community, she sings in the song's pre-chorus that "shade never made anybody less gay."

This may be a callback to "I Forgot That You Existed," the opening track of "Lover," in which Swift said she "lived in the shade you were throwing."

In the music video, Swift also wears a wig with the colors of the bisexual-pride flag.

"Cruel Summer"

Fans speculate that "Cruel Summer" was written in 2016 when Swift was socially ostracized due to her feud with Kim Kardashian and Ye, formally known as Kanye West. A photocopied page of her diary was included with physical copies of "Lover," in which Swift had written, "This summer is the apocalypse."

Some believe this song was inspired by Alwyn, although according to that same diary, he didn't begin dating Swift until October 2016.

Instead, phrases like "angels roll their eyes" and "no rules in breakable heaven" may be references to Kloss' legacy as a Victoria's Secret Angel. 

In the bridge, Swift sings, "I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you," calling to mind a closeted queer romance.

"The Man"

"The Man" exposes sexist double standards in Hollywood, exploring how Swift might be perceived if she were born a man but made all the same choices.

Swift explained the song's concept in an audio clip for Spotify's storyline feature.

"I've had the thought several times in my career, wondering if I had been a man instead of a woman, and if I had lived my life exactly the same way — had the same triumphs, made the same mistakes, dated the same people — what would people have said about me if I was a man instead of a woman?" she said.

The phrase "dated the same people" becomes relevant when paired with the song's bridge: "What's it like to brag about raking in dollars / And getting bitches and models?"

"The Archer"

In "The Archer," Swift compares falling in love to preparing herself for "combat" and expresses a deep-rooted fear of being seen and understood. Queer fans may relate to this as a fear of being outed.

The song's bridge is particularly foreboding: "'Cause they see right through me / They see right through me / They see right through / Can you see right through me? / They see right through / They see right through me / I see right through me / I see right through me."

"False God"

While superficially a love song, "False God" contains clear undertones of religious guilt and shame, recognized by queer people who were raised in God-fearing households.

 "They all warned us about times like this / They say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith," she sings in the pre-chorus. In this context, "they" would refer to those who use religion as a reason to oppose gay rights.

Indeed, Swift's early work hints at a relatively religious and conservative upbringing. She references praying and keeping faith in tracks like "Our Song," "Christmas Must Be Something More," and "Come in With the Rain."

Although her current relationship with religion is a bit murky, Swift does mention Jesus in her 2019 track "Soon You'll Get Better," and in "Miss Americana," she self-identifies as a Christian.

"It's Nice to Have a Friend"

"It's Nice to Have a Friend" thematically mirrors "Mary's Song (Oh My My My)," describing a childhood friendship that blossoms into an adult relationship.

The songs even follow the same structure, describing a youthful crush in verse one and a budding teen romance in verse two, concluding with the couple's wedding and happy ending.

"It's Nice to Have a Friend" doesn't use any male or female pronouns, but several details suggest girlhood and shared femininity: swapping gloves, sleeping in a tent together as kids, "light pink sky," "call my bluff, call you 'babe.'"

"The 1"

"The 1" is the opening track on "Folklore," which Swift described as a collection of stories, visuals, and characters as a vehicle for expressing her own "whims, dreams, fears, and musings." 

"The lines between fantasy and reality blur," she told fans upon the album's release. "Speculation, over time, becomes fact."

"The 1" broadly explores the question of "what could've been," recounting details of past relationships with overtones of nostalgia and regret.

"We were something, don't you think so? / Rosé flowing with your chosen family," Swift sings in the final chorus. "And it would've been sweet / If it could've been me."

Swift has used "chosen family" to describe friends she made in her 20s, specifically those she left behind: "It's sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships," she wrote in 2019.

But the term is also deeply entwined with the LGBTQ community, where it's used to describe a group of friends, usually queer, who support and celebrate your identity — especially in the face of homophobia or familial rejection.

"Seven"

"Seven" is clearly in conversation with "Mary's Song (Oh My My My)" and "It's Nice to Have a Friend." This trilogy seems to excavate queer feelings and connections that arise at a tender age, especially within friendships that begin platonically or appear platonic from the outside. (See also: "I knew everything when I was young," the pivotal line in "Cardigan.")

Of the three songs, "Seven" contains the brightest glimmers of queerness. Swift sings about someone with "braids like a pattern" whom she wants to run away with: "Pack your dolls and a sweater / We'll move to India forever."

Swift even references the famous idiom "in the closet," used to describe someone who's hiding their sexuality: "I think your house is haunted / Your dad is always mad and that must be why / And I think you should come live with me / And we can be pirates / Then you won't have to cry / Or hide in the closet."

The dad who's "always mad" recalls the father figures in "Mary's Song," who didn't believe their kids would really fall in love.

"Illicit Affairs"

"Illicit Affairs" is widely interpreted as a song about marital infidelity, but a love affair could be "illicit," or forbidden, for a variety of reasons — including laws, rules, or societal norms.

Swift sings of a relationship full of "clandestine meetings and longing stares," an experience that could be applied to a variety of queer love stories throughout history and pop culture. Fans have paired the lyric with TV shows and films like "Call Me by Your Name," "Portrait of a Lady on Fire," "Heartstopper," "Happiest Season," and "My Policeman."

Another line in the bridge, "You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else," recalls the rainbow-infused allusions in "Out of the Woods" and "Me!"

"Invisible String"

The central metaphor of "Invisible String" was likely inspired by an East Asian folk myth known as "the red thread of fate," visualized as a red string tied around the fingers of soulmates, connecting them by either end.

The song is also rich with Easter eggs and callbacks. Swift opens by referencing Centennial Park in Nashville, Tennessee, known as her adopted hometown. In verse two, she references the title of her 2014 single "Bad Blood."

Because much of the song draws from real details in Swift's life, fans were quick to note the intentional phrasing in the final chorus: "Time, wondrous time / Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies."

Blue-purple-pink is the exact arrangement of the triple-striped bisexual-pride flag, from bottom to top.

"Betty"

I previously wrote about the queer interpretation of "Betty" and how it can, and should, coexist alongside Swift's official explanation that it's written "from the perspective of a 17-year-old boy." 

Within the song itself, the narrator is only known as James, named after Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's eldest daughter. (Swift herself was named after James Taylor.)

The song declines to give the narrator any gendered pronouns or identifiers. This vagueness makes it easier to visualize your own versions of the characters — and with Swift's feminine voice serenading a girl named Betty, it's arguably easiest to visualize two girls.

The core listening experience of "Betty" is hearing a girl sing about wanting to kiss another girl.

"Gold Rush"

"Gold Rush," the second track on "Evermore," is about pining for someone who "everybody wants" and refusing to submit to their charms ("I can't dare to dream about you anymore").

Swift describes this person's beauty as "gleaming, twinkling," and perceptibly feminine: "What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? / With your hair falling into place like dominoes."

One year before the release of "Evermore," Kloss shared a photo of herself in a golden dress for the 2019 Met Gala. She captioned the post, "Gold rush."

Swift had previously described Kloss using terms like "gold" and "sunshine." She selected the sun when asked to describe Kloss using a single emoji in 2015. (In return, Kloss selected the princess for Swift.)

"Tolerate It"

Swift told Apple Music's Zane Lowe that "Tolerate It" was largely inspired by "Rebecca," a 1938 Gothic novel by Daphne du Maurier.

"I was thinking, 'Wow, her husband just tolerates her. She's doing all these things and she's trying so hard and she's trying to impress him, and he's just tolerating her the whole time,'" she explained. "There was a part of me that was relating to that, because at some point in my life, I felt that way."

The song's central couplet captures this heartbreaking indifference: "I know my love should be celebrated / But you tolerate it."

During a 2019 interview with Elvis Duran, Swift echoed this very sentiment while discussing her public support of LGBTQ rights and the Equality Act.

"I just wanted to make it known to everyone around me, and my loved ones, and my fans, and my friends and my colleagues, like, I don't just tolerate the way that you are, I celebrate the way that you are," she said.

"Dorothea"

Much like "Betty," "Dorothea" is a love song addressed to a girl. Swift described the titular character as "a girl who left her small town to chase down Hollywood dreams."

But unlike "Betty," Swift has never declared that "Dorothea" was written from the male perspective.

"If you're ever tired of being known for who you know / You know, you'll always know me, Dorothea," Swift sings in the chorus.

"Friend of Dorothy" is popular queer slang; you may have heard the term in The 1995 film "Clueless", or more recently in Netflix's "The Crown". It was originally coined as a synonym for a gay man, but it's more commonly used today as a catchall for any member of the LGBTQ community.

"Ivy"

On its face, "Ivy" is the "infidelity" chapter of "Evermore's" failed marriage anthology.

The narrator seems to be a married woman who's in love with someone else, terrified that her husband will find out.

Many fans have theorized that "Ivy" was inspired by Emily Dickinson. Scholars believe the poet was a lesbian and in love with her childhood best friend, Sue Gilbert, who ended up marrying Dickinson's brother.

The two women shared plenty of intimate letters and Gilbert apparently inspired much of Dickinson's poetry, the most famous of which ends with the line, "Sue - forevermore!" (Not to mention, "Evermore" was announced on Dickinson's birthday, December 10.)

The Apple TV+ series "Dickinson" celebrates the poet's queerness and focuses largely on her clandestine romance with Gilbert.

At the end of a 2021 episode titled "Grief Is a Mouse," the women reunite for a passionate sex scene that leads into the credits, soundtracked by "Ivy."

Swift herself approved the song's usage in the show, according to showrunner Alena Smith.

"I really wanted to use that song — I mean I love that song and also the fans have sort of developed a mythology around it as being a song that relates to Emily and Sue on some emotional level," Smith told the Hollywood Reporter, adding, "We were lucky that Taylor said yes."

"Cowboy Like Me"

"Cowboy Like Me" uses the titles "cowboy" and "bandit" as euphemisms to describe two people in cahoots, hiding who they are from the outside world.

"You're a cowboy like me," then, could be interpreted as a private recognition of shared queerness.

"You asked me to dance / But I said, 'Dancing is a dangerous game,'" Swift sings in the first verse, a clear reference to "Dancing With Our Hands Tied" and the risk she associates with being openly in love.

Later, Swift sings of "the old men that I've swindled" and pretending she was in love for financial gain: "Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear / Like it could be love / I could be the way forward / Only if they pay for it."

Celebrities have been known to engage in relationships for PR purposes— to promote a film, for example, or rehabilitate a person's reputation.

PR relationships have also been historically used to conceal a celebrity's sexuality. Stars like Michael Bolton and Colten Haynes have described the "isolation" and emotional pain this caused before they felt comfortable publicly coming out as gay.

"Right Where You Left Me"

"Right Where You Left Me" one of the most heartbreaking songs in Swift's catalog, also contains one of her most conspicuous queer references.

"I swear you could hear a hairpin drop / Right when I felt the moment stop," Swift sings in the pre-chorus. "Glass shattered on the white cloth / Everybody moved on / I stayed there."

The commonly used idiom is "you could hear a pin drop," meaning it's very quiet. But Swift intentionally changed the noun to "hairpin."

"Dropping hairpins" is a well-known euphemism in the LGBTQ community, described by the New York Times as "a traditional gay gambit."

"This means to drop clues, if not outright statements, about one's own homosexuality in an effort to induce one's interlocutor to follow suit," the Times reported in 2015.

The Stonewall Inn protest is also known was "the hairpin drop heard around the world."

[consumeconstantly]

Bring Me To The Precipice of Victory

1| 2 | 3(you are here) | 4  | next

Summary: When Batman departs— just for a short time, just to patch things up in Gotham— things go horribly, horribly wrong in Paris.

He doesn’t know if he can come back from realizing that Marinette and Ladybug are one and the same (and that his daughter has died more times than he can count.) (all biodad bruce are posted in chronological order but can be read as stand alones)

______________________________________________

The moment of peace, of solidarity, that Batman shares with Ladybug up on that rooftop at night means the world.

After a minute or two, Ladybug pulls back, tear tracks down the sides of her face, eye and nose red. She takes another minute of silence,hugging herself in the muggy Parisian air. When she next opens her eyes, Batman can almost imagine that Ladybug never cried at all. 

But he knows that's not true. Ladybug seemed so fragile in his arms. He can imagine— he can imagine Dick in her place, broken over Jason’s death. Tim losing his parents. All of his children facing insurmountable odds with no team by their side. Alone. 

Ladybug is not alone, but functionally, she may as well be. He’s watched the fights. He’s analyzed them. Ladybug is always, always the leader. She strategizes with Ryuko and Viperion, but Ladybug is who everybody looks to for an answer when things don’t work out the way they want them to. She’s the one with the plan, the backup plan, the out. She’s the one who swoops in to save the day.

She’s also the one who has racked up the most hours on the battlefield. Even Chat Noir, her partner, only has three quarters of the hours that she’s put in. For most of the other members of her team, she puts in double, sometimes even triple of what they do. Over the course of six years, there have been a little under two thousand battles, lasting from under an hour to over five hours. Ladybug has shown up for every single one, without fail. That’s not even counting the patrols that they do; although Ladybug is given a lot of flack for not patrolling as often as Chat Noir, there’s a fundamental difference in how they patrol. Ladybug is methodical, Chat Noir is volatile. 

He’s not a bad superhero when it comes down to battle, but the two of them are fundamentally different. Ladybug sees her time as a superhero as a duty. Chat Noir seems to view it as a time to unwind— and while that’s worrying, considering the information he’s gathered on the Miraculous Team so far points to the majority of them beings teens or young adults— it’s not what is needed to deal with the Paris situation. 

Perhaps one of the easiest ways to see these differences is during patrol. Chat Noir uses patrol time almost seems to be an outlet for stress. He entices whoever he’s on patrol with to race to random places in Paris with no rhyme or reason. Whenever he comes across crime, he stops it, but Ladybug— Ladybug searches for crime.

Ladybug has a team and she trusts them with her life, but she cannot trust them to be responsible. That is perhaps the worst possible thing that can happen. And through the videos that he’s watched, it’s clear that the hours she puts in do affect her, and fairly heavily. 

Whoever she is, she’s young. Too young to be in battle untrained, because they are untrained— despite being in the field for years, all of their basic form lacks and tells anybody with an experienced eye that they’ve never had formal training in martial arts. 

When Batman and Ladybug leave the roof, they leave on a better note than where they started. Batman is still upset that Tom and Sabine are dead, but he cannot attribute it solely to Ladybug’s negligence. He admires the young heroine for rising to the occasion when there was nobody else to help. He has no doubt that with the resources and training that he can provide him and his operatives already on the case, Hawkmoth will be revealed in no time at all. 

He’s right, but in the worst possible way. 

It’s largely a mistake on hiss part-- he gets a notification that the Joker broke out of Arkham again, and Hawkmoth and Pavona are missing for the time being. Though Ladybug has made a mistake in not taking Pavona out immediately, she and her team have won every akuma and sentimonster battle. The logical course of action is to go where the most danger is. 

Bruce does not have any predictive powers. There is no way for him to know what’s going to happen. But when he and his team finally catch the Joker and put him away again-- a feat that takes just a little under twenty four hours, extreme concentration, and a good number of injuries-- Batman finally gets a chance to breathe. The adrenaline from facing off against the Joker’s latest scheme fades. Batman reclines in a chair as Alfred binds his  wounds and passes him pain relieving pills while he gets stitches in his abdomen. 

He checks the news in Paris. 

He almost drops the device that he’s using to view the news. 

Marinette’s existence has been hidden from his family. With Dick, he was more concerned about his existence as Robin, rather than informing him that he had a sister. As soon as he started contemplating bringing up Marinette, Batman and Robin had a bad break. Then Jason came along, troubled and angry. Bruce didn’t want to introduce Marinette into the mix then because he was volatile. 

Jason died due to Batman’s incompetence. Bruce grieved the loss of his ward; Batman was never allowed to mourn the loss of his second Robin.

Tim felt unworthy as the only child Bruce didn’t pick up off the streets, and Damian-- well, Damian was Damian. First he had a superiority complex the size of the Grand Canyon, and once he got accustomed to how they handled things in the Wayne Manor-- though Tim would argue that Damian is still not used to this kind of lifestyle-- he overcompensated every single mission and needed a remedial course on How to Interact With Other Humans 101. Add the overarching concern of Marinette being exposed to his vigilante life style and being unprepared for it, and he was never able to tell his children that he had another biological kid. A daughter.

When the news that Sabine and Tom died reached his ears, he told everybody he had business in Paris without elaborating what. With Wayne Enterprises opening a Paris branch of their R&D specialising in European artifacts, it was easy to draw connections that weren’t there.

“Bruce, you need to relax. Business in Paris can be dealt with later, you need to take the time to heal,” Tim says.

A clip in his shoulder from a bullet, knife wounds on his torso and legs, a sprained wrist. Whatever chemical experiment the Joker got his hands out still pumping through his veins. “I need to go-- it’s important--”

The pain relievers Alfred gave him earlier were also a sedative. 

Tim catches him before he passes out.

#

He wakes up three hours late through sheer force of will.

“Paris!” Bruce jolts upright, still in costume, lying prone on a medical cot in the Batcave.

The first thing that catches his eyes is the red and black flying across the screens.

Ladybug.

His kids are all watching the screens with abject horror. 

“Is this,” Tim wets his lips. “The business trip that you were on?”

Bruce drags himself out of bed, adrenaline washing out any residual pain. He doesn’t have the capacity to respond, he needs to get to the zeta tube, he needs to get to Paris, Ladybug is bleeding, the city is in shambles, and Marinette-- 

One of the news sites up on the screen declares the arrondissements that are obliterated. The one that houses Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie is amongst their number. An approximate death toll fills the static.

-- Marinette is likely among those lost. He has lost another child due to his inaction. Due to his inability to push through, to look forwards and predict the future and the consequences of his actions. Marinette is another Jason, but if Ladybug doesn’t get it together, she’ll be gone permanently. And Ladybug is little more than a child. She can’t handle it, not by herself, not with her team. She needs an experienced hero, and Batman will be there for her, be the one leading the charge against Hawkmoth as the civilians hide in their homes and pray for her Miracle Cure to reverse the damage.

Dick places a hand on his shoulder. Bruce tries to shrug it off, but his fingers dig into the place where the bullet clipped his flesh. The pain is just a reminder that if he does not get to Paris now, there will be thousands-- no, millions-- more who feel this pain. How did Marinette die? Was it an akuma? Did the rubble of one of the destroyed buildings fall on her? Did Ladybug even try to protect her?

“I need to go,” Bruce growls.

“You can’t. While you were out, the majority of the Justice League prohibited all travel via zeta tubes. Nobody can get into Paris right now.”

Bruce knocks Dick’s hand off his shoulder and turns to his eldest. At the very least, Dick and the rest of his children look solemn. Damian’s gaze is fixed to one of the screens that shows Ladybug. “A city is in danger, millions of lives are at risk, Marinette--”

His daughter is dead. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Standing by idly is the last thing he’ll let himself do.“Who put out the order? I’ll get them to reverse it.”

Dick moves so he’s between the zeta tube and Bruce. “B, you don’t understand. If you go to Paris right now, you’ll get akumatized.” 

“I can handle my emotions.”

Jason points at the upper right section of screens that’s replaying past footage. “I wouldn’t bet Paris’ survival on it. Not when more level headed superheroes got on the scene first and failed. They really don’t need any heavy hitters getting akumatized. Not when Superman put three members of their team out of commission.”

Superman arrived on the scene first; it took a matter of seconds for him to get akumatized. He was responsible for razing down three arrondissements in no time flat. Ladybug had to call for a Lucky Charm in order to get her hands on some kryptonite, which forced her to recoup after her time ran out. 

Black Canary arrived next. Then Red Tornado. 

Both were akumatized in mere minutes. 

“After Red Tornado got akumatized, Wonder Woman led the charge to put the rest of the zeta tubes on lockdown,” Duke says, grim. “All we can do now is hope that these Parisian superheroes can pull off a win.”

Bruce stumbles over to get a better view. He remembers Ladybug, small and slight in his arms. A child, crying over the loss of her pseudo parents. 

A warrior, bloody and bruised and broken.

She is one of the last ones standing.

King Monkey and an ox themed hero both died at Superman’s hands. The former got in the way of his laser beams, the latter a victim of super strength and getting thrown through two buildings and having their necks snap at an unsightly angle. Chat Noir was also sent hurtling through the air, and the only reason he was still alive was because Ladybug alighted from the sky and grabbed him before he got sent through a building in his unconscious state. Black Canary came shortly after, apparently informed of the Superman situation and carrying kryptonite. 

She didn’t last for long either. Almost immediately after helping Ladybug and Ryuko bind Superman in such a way that he couldn’t escape, 

Pegasus got hit by Black Canary’s sound waves and Chat Noir’s residual injuries from his fight with Superman forced him into a state of unconsciousness. Queen Bee and Carapace were able to pull off a win against Black Canary, but not without serious injuries. Ryuko faced off against Red Tornado alone, which normally would have been a thing of awe, but in the grander scheme of things, was a huge issue, as without her, the Miraculous Team functionally lost all of their heavy hitters. Rena Rouge and several Miraculous users that clearly had never been in battle before were the ones left to hold their own against the scores of akumatized Parisians.

The only ones left to hunt down Hawkmoth and Pavona were Ladybug and Viperion, and the former was already on her third use of Lucky Charm.

Ladybug pulls out her communicator, dodging an attack.

“Can we get sound on this?” Jason grips the closest table.

Dick shakes his head. “Zatara says there’s already enough interference just trying to get these images. And for some reason, Dr. Fate refuses to get involved with any of this.”

Bruce’s phone rings. He doesn’t pick it up on the first ring, too focused on the ongoing battles. He does take his phone out of his pocket to silence it the next time, but when he presses the sound off, an image comes through.

“Bruce.” Ladybug’s image comes through crystal clear, and it doesn’t make him feel any better. Ladybug, blood dripping from her mouth, costume torn open, hair burnt, wild eyed. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but the image goes blurry as she moves to avoid several attacks pointed towards her. 

“Before I go, I--”

“Watch out, LB!” Bruce lifts his eyes to the screen that displays Ladybug and Viperion in battle. The spotted heroine gets pushed out of the way of a laser, but the snake themed hero takes the hit.

The ambient noise coming from his phone is strong; he can hear blades clashing in the background as Chat Noir, already on his last legs attempts to hold off Darkblade. Screaming from civilians, a strangled sob from Ladybug. “Viperion.”

Ladybug comes back into view. Blue eyes filled with rage.

“If this doesn’t end in our favor, you need to make sure that Hawkmoth and Pavona do not acquire both the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous. Do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening.” She blinks, retreats into herself, and Bruce wonders if he’s seeing the girl behind the mask. 

“And If I don’t get to see you again--” If I���m dead, the words go unspoken, “I really did want the chance -- I-- you’re a good man. A good father. Your daughter-- she loves you. She really, really does. Stay safe.”

The transmission cuts off. On the screen in front of him, Ladybug closes her communicator, closes Viperion’s open eyes, and strides to the epicenter of the akumas. Blue fire flashes in her irises, and for a moment, she’s staring directly at the screen. And Bruce knows those eyes. He knows them. 

The next second, all of the computers simultaneously die.

Bruce is numb. No-- no.

He is nothing.

#

All his children-- no, not all his children, Marinette is missing, Marinette is Ladybug, and she’s out on a field that he can’t see grappling with magic forces strong enough to incapacitate Justice League members like their powers and abilities are inconsequential-- stare at him.

“That was… Ladybug?” Tim’s brow furrows. It’s clear that he’s thinking up a hundred different reasons why Ladybug and Batman are connected, why he’s the last person she calls before going into a battle that could very well cost her her life.

“My daughter.” The words are ash on his lips. An existence he’s never acknowledged. Not out loud. Saying it brings a sense of finality to the room. An impending death. “My daughter.”

Nobody asks how long he’s known or when he met her or why he’s never brought it up before. Everything is fuzzy. Floating. 

For a while, there’s silence. 

“Zatara says there’s too much interference to get the picture back up,” Dick opens his messages, frowning. 

Damian still stares at the screen Ladybug looked at directly, frozen.

Bruce picks himself up and moves. He may not be able to use the zeta tubes, but he has a private jet and a license, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do something.

#

It takes two hours too long to get to Paris. He shaved five hours off the flight length due to superior technology, and another hour and a half off due to sheer force of will. 

The landing is not a pretty thing, but Paris is already in shambles, and there’s no way that the ATC will approve his landing, so Bruce picks out the flattest looking spot of rubble before his jet meets the ground.

According to Tim and Duke, who stayed behind in case this turned out to be an attack spanning multiple cities, the battle ended mere minutes before they landed. Dick manages to get Zatara to broadcast the image in the cockpit of the jet, and on the screen lay three prone bodies. Gabriel Agreste, whose body type fits that of Hawkmoth, Lila, and a third that Bruce does not recognize. 

A bone sticks out of Marinette’s arm, the connected hand crushed and hanging limp. The opposing ankle is twisted almost fully backwards. She is covered in blood and ash and filth. There is no victory in her eyes. Only weariness.

In her good hand, she holds her yoyo. 

She raises her eyes skywards-- the roof of the Agreste mansion is blown clean off-- blinks slowly, and throws the yoyo into the air. 

“Miraculous Cure,” her lips read.

The corpses in Paris rise from the dead. Rubble reforms into buildings. The ashy haze that covered the city disappears.

Ladybug looks like she wants to disappear, too.

She collapses, instead.

Nobody is there to catch her when she drops to the floor. 

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys  @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip @theunquiet-dead @sleep-deprived-aroace @enternalempires @lilkymilky @woe-is-me0 @officiallydarkgeek @miyla-lokidottir @queencommonsense @demonicbusiness 

mb for not doing tag list right away i forgot i had these cued up already

[who-ever-said-i-was-nice]

could we have mc falling down the stairs and getting a concussion with ikevamp pls?

I got ya! Sorry it took this long...

Comte

you where at a party with Comte

 while he talked to guests you excused yourself and walked outside

on the way out you  accidentally ran into a man

he helped you up, you apologized and continued walking

you reached the front door and stepped outside

suddenly a very angry lady burst outside and came right at you

“ Why where you talking to me husband!” you looked at her, a little confused

“ Well, I bumped into him and I had to apologize. That’s the right thing to do. Non?”

“ You’re lying!” “ Listen here I already have a boyfriend. And he’s the most loving, caring, kind-hearted, sweet person I have ever met! Why the hell would I go talking to your husband!” “ You lying little bi**h. I know you want to steal him away. I can’t let that happen. No hard feelings right?”

she looked at you, her words dripping with venom and before you could react she pushed you down the stairs.

you fell and hit your head hard  on one of the steps

you heard a commotion at the top of the stair and you where pretty sure you saw a golden figure bend over you, but you blacked out

when you woke up you realized you where back home in your bed

you looked over to your right and saw a very tired looking Comte smiling down at you

you felt guilty so you apologized

he combed your hair and reassured you that everything’s fine and he isn’t mad at you

he was super worried but he won’t let it show for your sake

Oh yessssss some nice juicy drama * faints because of my own work*

Leonardo

uuuuuuuh this man will have a heart attack

you where walking around town, when you came across this huge library

you were super exited about it so Leo decided to walk you around

you two had a blast

you where mesmerized at the millions of old books inside

When you found something interesting you would bounce up and down like the adorable little dork you where and Leo would chuckle, loving every second of it

when it was time to leave you skipped out followed by Leo

you where walking down the stairs explaining about modern libraries when you slipped and fell backwards hitting your head on the step

Leo couldn’t catch you

the last thing you remember is Leonardo’s worried face

you woke up in your bed

you looked around the room

suddenly you felt the blanket shift a bit

as you lifted it Lumiere crawled out

he nudged your cheek and curled up beside you

you pet him for a while and then got up

“ OUCh! Oh Cara mia you’re awake

yup he fell asleep right next to your bed on the floor

you giggled and gently tugged him up and into the bed

you cuddled for a solid 2 hours

Arthur

it was winter

you where walking home after a case

you where talking and laughing

but the ground was icy and as you where walking by the entrance to a building you pointed at something and accidentally slipped

Arthur was looking at what you pointed at when he heard a dull thump a groan and a horrible crack

he whirled around only to see you on the ground, knocked out and a small stream of blood was flowing from your cheek

he immediately scooped you up and ran, all the while beating himself up for not catching you

you woke up in your bed

Arthur was passed out on the bed next to you

you realized your head was bandaged, you had a band-aid on your cheek and your arm was in a sling

when he felt you stir Arthur woke up and hugged you

turns out you blocked most of the fall with your hand so you didn’t break your head, and managed to get away with a concussion, but your left arm payed the price because now it was broken

This doctor was worried sick

Theo

Theoooooo mah boi

you just finished up at one of Theo’s art exhibition? displays? showcases? i don’t know, just imagine the correct version here

he had just made a really good deal and he was visibly happy

you two chatted as you walked outside

as you reached the bottom and where standing there waiting for a carriage, a rabid dog jumped out of the bush and attacked you knocking you to the ground

Theo couldn’t catch you he was to busy getting the dog to leave

you hit your head on the last step really hard and within a few moments you lost conciseness

You woke up in your bed the next day (or so you thought)

Theo was sitting next to you holding your hand

he pulled you into a tight hug

“ Silly Y/N scarring me like this.”

you broke free from his bear hug, only to pull your lover into a passionate kiss

when you pulled away he stared  into your eyes

Theo’s not the type to convert his emotions into words he prefers actions and the way he’s looking at you now melts your heart and you know how much he worried about you

“Thank you for taking care of me Theo. I’m a little sleepy now but can you stay a while” he snorted “ Wasn’t  a day and a half enough for you” buuut he’s a cutie so he crawled into bed with you and held you close as you fell asleep

*Me writing a part for Theo*: yes yes let’s make Theo’s favorite animal into the villain of this. ok and then let’s traumatize him by making you sleep for a long time. AAAAHHHHAHAHAHA I’m so evil. Ok so now that i have that out of my system let’s make this the sappiest of them all. OML I LOVE HIM

Dazai

Dazai and you where walking from the gazebo after *caught* things *caught*

no I’m kidding you had a tea party and  made rhymes about little dolls and bird and playgrounds

you cute little dorks I love you so much

Sebas was watering the plants there a few minutes ago and it got onto the steppes

Dazai was busy making ridiculously stupid dad jokes and you where laughing your head off

sadly you didn’t notice the puddle and slipped on it banging your head on the step

the last thing you remember was Dazai wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up whispering “ I got you little bird”

you woke up in your bed in the evening

Dazai was right next to you stroking your hair

“ Good morning, Toshiko-san!” you couldn’t help but laugh

Dazai was worried about you but he likes to live his life by the saying: Laughter is the best medicine

Vincent

you when to a church because Vincent wanted to paint it

however once he finished most of it he decided it was missing something

something that could immediately turn any plain picture into a beautiful masterpiece

you 

he asked you to model and you gladly agreed

you sat on the steppes and let Vincent paint you

once he was finished you jumped up and started hurrying down the stairs to see how it looked

unfortunately you slipped on one of the worn down steps and fell back banging you head and blacking out

Vincent saw this and rushed up to you

he was beside himself

he already has trouble dealing with emotions, and he just saw your life flash before his eyes

baby boy is traumatized

he picked you up and since he couldn’t carry it ditched the paining and ran to the nearest carriage

you woke up with Vincent by your side

he held your hand and smiled gently

“You’re awake thank God!”

you asked about the painting and he said he just left it there

needles to say you felt horrible so you asked if you could go back

he laughed saying it’s probably gone but complied

surprisingly the painting was still there

Napoleon

you where fencing

it was all fun and games

you would try your best and Leon would disarm you with ease

sometimes he would let you win by dropping the foil very obviously and saying something stupid like Oh no nunuce you got me again

either way it would always result in him picking you up and tickling you

at one point you where standing near the stairs

you where trying to disarm him and didn’t notice them

you stepped back and tripped and fell hitting your head on one of the stairs

the former emperor of France felt his blood chill 

he had never seen something scarier then you passed out on the stairs

in a flash he was by your side scooped you up and ran into the house

you woke up a few hours later and sitting right next to you, squeezing your hand like there is no tomorrow, was Napoleon

Honestly he looked like he had aged 50 years

but as son as you made eye contact all that  disappeared as if it wasn’t even there to begin with

He hugged you and semi scolded you for being a nunuce and scaring him

Jean

My apology for this one instead of stairs I used a horse. Also based on a true story, sorta. I didn’t have Jean.😢😂

soldier boy

so you where riding with Jean one day

you loved these little outings

the way the wind whipped your hair and the landscape rushed past you as you rode into the sunset

romantic I know

but you have to remember that this also has it’s dangers...

that day you stayed out a bit longer then usual

the sun had already set when you decided it was time to go

so  you started making your way back through the dark forest

 suddenly a fox dashed across the rode and scared your horse

it reared and trashed an threw you off it’s back

you hit your head and blacked out

you woke up the next morning in Jean’s bed

he himself sat beside you

he had his eye patch off and he had bags under his eyes

it was clear he stayed up all night ( he was that worried)

you felt guilty

you got up and hugged him against your chest  caressing his hair

he sighed “ I was so worried about you mademoiselle“

you giggled at the name “ I’m sorry monsieur“

he looked up at you lovingly, deep purple eyes shining

he reached up to cup your cheek as you threaded your hand through his hair and you both met in a passionate kiss

Me: YOU MAY KISS THE BRIDE!!!!!! *sigh* I have lost my mind i case you haven’t noticed

Mozart

tsundere baby

Mozart had just finished one of his performances

and of coarse he killed it

since the place was not that far from the mansion you decided to walk to spare Mozart’s stomach

you where walking and you spotted something you stopped and excitedly pointed at it

Mozart rolled his eyes and kept going “You already have a plushie”

you playfully pouted but ran to catch up to him

suddenly a carriage rolled past you really close and scared you

you lost you balance and fell, hitting your head on the steppes of the building on your right

 Mozart wheeled around and saw you on the ground

he cursed himself for not being next to you,

he quickly picked you up and ran

You woke up the next day

Mozart was right next to you

“ This is why I hate carriages”

you burst out laughing and hugged him

he hugged you back and then slowly placed you back onto the bed

he then knelt down and brought up a bag and placed on your lap

you looked into the bad and in it was the plushie you where looking at before the accident

“ I thought it might make you feel better” the blush was visible on his cheeks

“ Oh, Mozart!” you threw your arms around him yet again “ I love it. I love you.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent “I love you too”

Isaac

you where at the university

Isaac had finished his lectures and was surprised to see you there

or at least that was what he thought he looked like in actuality

he was flustered, and was stuttering, palm sweating a little

the kids (let’s call them that ok, they’re babies compared to Isaac anyway) got a kick out of that and where snickering in the background  

you where standing on the steppes when a little girl, who you figured was someones sibling came rushing up to you

now you where standing facing each other and this girl came in between the two of you pushing you in the process

you lost your balance and hit your head on the railing of the stairs and then crumpled to the ground

all you heard was screams and then nothing

you woke up that evening and the second you opened your eyes Isaac had you wrapped up in his arms and was holding you against his chest

“ Do you have any idea how worried I was! Thank God you’re awake”

you cupped his cheek and pulled him into a kiss

once you pulled away you smiled up at the now very flustered Isaac

“ Thank you for taking care of me Isaac!”

he mumbled a ‘you’re welcome’

you laughed and hugged him

Sebastian

so the two of you cuties where grocery shopping

you where finishing up and walking out laughing and talking

all of a sudden you heard screams from inside the store

you turned around only to see a man running at you at full speed

you didn’t have time to react

he knocked into you and sent your stuff flying and you tumbling down the stairs

you hit your head hard

the last thing you remember was Sebastian desperately calling your name

you woke up in your room and Sebastian pulled you into a hug and kissed you deeply

nah just kidding

*flick*Don’t ever do that again” “ DID YOU JUST FLICK MY FOREHEAD?!

he smiled sweetly and kissed your forehead right where he flicked it

“I’m saying this because I was worried about you” “ Well that changes things”

you both laughed and then you cuddled

bless Comte for giving Sebas the rest of the day off so you could cuddle

William Shookspear

You where actually on stage

From the start of your relationship Will knew you loved acting

So one day he decided to let you audition and you got the main part

shocker 

jkjk you where a great actress

 The play began and you killed it

absolutely blew everyone away

at the end you rushed backstage to meet your boyfriend

he was there smiling at you

it was honestly the sweetest, brightest smile you had ever sen him give you

you rushed down the steppes, but your dress got caught in a nail and yanked you back

you lost your balance and fell backwards

you immediately lost consciousness

you woke up in his room

he was sitting beside you with a worried expression

he asked if you where feeling alright and when you said you felt fine he let out a sigh of relief

“ Did I do good Will?” you asked timidly

he smiled brushed back your hair and planted a kiss to your forehead

“ You where amazing”

That’s it! I really hope you enjoyed! Stay safe out there!

[opes-magnas]

『dear youth,』- Part 01

Welcome to the first part very unplanned fanfiction (?) series, ‘dear youth,’  that we are definitely writing to get rid of our writers’ block. A part of this series will be released everytime we’re not at our best, or want portray some of our concerns, or just want to give our readers and ourselves a light read. Enjoy!

i.

The room glowed in a comforting deep orange. Eleanor Williams was softly caressing the spine of a book about Jupiter's moons in her grasp as she sat in a cozy corner alongside her two best friends, who like wise had their noses deeply buried in their books. The Slytherin observed as one was in confusion, devastated, distraught even, as he gazed intently into his copy of 'The Dream Oracle'. Divination gave James O'Carroll a massive headache with a cherry on top, and right now, he looked as miserable as his grades. Eleanor then shifted her eyes to the other one, Althaea Farley, who look quite miserable as well. The poor pure blood was stuck trying to understand the magic of the muggles- about something they called the Internet. Althaea's face looked as blue as her uniform. Eleanor was sure she was on the verge of dropping Muggle Studies as an elective (she tried to convince her earlier, but Althaea would not listen). A small smile appeared on her face as she recalled the incident that took place a few days ago.

'Ella! You've got to help me, please!', Althaea was clutching onto Eleanor's shoulders, fingers digging deep into her collar bones. Eleanor saw this day coming, for it was an inescapable trap - one that all humans, magical or not were fated to fall into. 'I gave you access to the Internet, what do you want now?!', The muggle-born said as her mouth perked up into a smug smile, knowing all too well where this was going. 'You've got to tell me the name of this man in this organisation called K-Pop!'

There it was.

To clear all things up, Eleanor was not a hardcore fan of the genre, but found herself bopping to the songs once in a while. And as it took the muggle world infectiously, the wizard was likely to follow and being the only muggle-born in her circle, Eleanor knew she had to deal with a crazy Althaea who she opined behaved very unwisely for a Ravenclaw. The system was flawed, huh. Now, she had a picture of a random man in slick black hair shoved up in her face. 'I MADE A COPY OF HIS FACE USING A FREAKY MACHINE.'

'His name is Na Jaemin. And you used a printer.', she said. Althaea suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her eyes stared around the edge of her paper and she  mumbled the word 'Printer' over and over. That's how she learnt new things. Her eyes found focus again and she stared into Eleanor's eyes and said in all seriousness -

'His smile does wonders on my stress.'

Eleanor couldn't wait to get herself out of that conversation. 'Oh yeah, it has magical properties.'

'YOU'RE TELLING ME HE'S A WIZARD?!', Althaea's eyes burned with curiosity.

Big mistake. Gosh Ella knew she conjured up a demon for herself by letting Althaea discover the Internet.

'Ella, Ella!' Eleanor was snapped back to the familiar corner in the library. She found her eyes fixated on Althaea, the smile she had earlier intact.  Discomfort evident in Althaea's face. Her fingers were smudged with ink from all the writing she was doing, a small well forming into her fingers from holding her quill for too long. She finally decided to break the silence after feeling a stare coming in her way. 'I almost thought you were Peter.', she said, remembering the underclassman who was very sappily head over heels for her. If it weren't for his crappy personality, she would've found him cute.

'You were smiling creepily while staring at me, um, for about three minutes now.', she said looking at Eleanor for an answer.

'Creepy? I was clearly threatening you.', Eleanor said, trying to explain herself in a way that didn't make her seem like she was an idiot.

'Uh huh, whatever you say Ella.', Althaea said as she went back to writing her essay with misery. Yeah, that was an idiotic move, Eleanor realised. She decided to finished reading up about Europa. Her O.W.Ls were almost here in a few months, and as much as she hated studying, she wanted to do her best to become an Auror.

'Na Jaemin's smile is cute. Her best friend's smile is creepy. Gosh.', she muttered before melting into the pages of her textbook.

ii.

James, at this point, was just considering bullshitting through Divination.

He had already dropped out on Ancient Runes, and knew this was his last straw. And if you can't succeed well in something, might as well make it fun for the worthwhile. He remembered how Peter's friend Justin Brown had it worse. The Gryffindor was letting Peter off for his illegal Galleon-to-Muggle money business with a warning, when he found out that the poor 4th year could barely keep up with Divination, Transfiguration and History of Magic. Imagine being that worse off.

Oh wait, he was last year.

'I cannot believe you don't know the wand movements for these charms!', Eleanor chuckled. James was frustrated. He decided to pay attention in Defence Against the Dark Arts for once, and Charms completely slipped past his mind. 'Shh!', James pressed a finger on his lips. 'Don't let Thaea listen! She'll never quit otherwise. Can't you just help me? James was sure of the chaos he would bring upon himself if he ever told Althaea. The endless scrolls of essays, memory cards, being locked up in the library for hours, and perhaps the worst thing - an extremely stressed Althaea, which lead to further worse consequences than what the former listed would do on his free time.

'Alright, alright. I'll help you.'

James sighed in relief. Hopefully he'll pass this year. This year was barely anything. Next year, he'd face the O.W.Ls that would shape his entire future. And he would do anything to make sure that future didn't involve him on the streets.

///---

'How do you not know the locking spell?!', Eleanor said exasperatedly. It'd been almost two hours since the pair sat down in the Gryffindor common room. James was sat down on the floor by the couch facing the fireplace, eyes closed as he tried to recall the spell he learnt last week. The wand gripped in his left hand had barely produced any sparks the whole time.

'You know, you sound like Althaea right now.', James clicked his tongue. 'This is just too confusing to remember! Why do the spells have to be in Latin?! What happened to those rhymes?!'

Eleanor closed the book in her grasp and placed a hand on James' shoulder. She pat his back as she tried to think of words to comfort him. 'There's a reason 'buttock' shouldn't be used in the same sentence as 'lock'.', she said after a thought.

'That doesn't even make sense!'

'No no, you don't understand, I'm connecting the dots. This is why spells mustn't rhyme.', Eleanor said as she joined her fingers together.

'You're not connecting shit.'

'I've connected them.'

James stared into his friends eyes before he broke into a hysteria. He grabbed his tummy, and turned to his sides. Eleanor was actually surprised to see his eyes brim up with tears. Was it really that funny? Maybe her best friend was going insane.

'I'm a screw-up.', James stated. 'Even you're sick of me.' Something dropped in Ella's stomach. It wasn't laughter after all. 'James-', she started.

'Why's James crying?'

And when I tell you James squealed. The Gryffindor turned away immediately, wiping his tears away. Ella was too shocked to respond. She was torn between respecting James' wishes and genuinely trying to help him, which included having to tell Althaea about him. She chose the latter.

'He's afraid he's going to fail this year.', she began in a small voice. 'Can't get charms right.'

'Ella! I told you not to tell!', James croaked out. 'Thaea, I'm fine, you don't need to worry.', he got up from the floor with a sigh. His ears were a deep red from crying. And embarrassment.

'Wow James, Do you think of me as a person who's just not going to worry? Why didn't you come for help? I thought we were friends.', Althaea stated.

'We are, but you're going to worry and stuff me with books! And then you'll start talking about how unprepared you are, how you barely do any studying in the hours you're at the library and make me feel worse, and a thousand times more unprepared!', James couldn't control his thoughts anymore.

'Oh James! I'm sorry I make you feel that way,', Althaea said, blood rising to her cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I can always change my teaching methods! Come on, I'll help you out.', Althaea tried to reason. She settled down on the couch by the fireplace and opened the textbook Eleanor had previously abandoned.

'Well? Come on.'

////----

'OK James, you're actually doing quite well! Now tell me what the Box Blasting Charm is.' It was weird to see Eleanor be this helpful to anybody, and it made James' heart utterly thankful. But that didn't quite mean he knew the spell of course. James' eyes shifted to see Althaea gazing over in expectation.

What was that darn spell?

Althaea stood up suddenly and cleared her voice.'Ayo, Ay, this one for the boys with the boomin'...'

James and Eleanor could do nothing but stare in silence. Althaea Farley? Muggle Music? Nicki Minaj? Please, this was not her. This was the demon Eleanor unleashed.

'FINISH THE LYRIC BITCH'

'Sy-system.', James was still in quite in shock. 'System, system, Cistem Aperio! That's the box blasting charm!', he continued with a smile creeping in from both sides. He got the spell right!

'There ya go!', Althaea exclaimed. Eleanor on the other hand, was thrown into a fit of laughter. Her high-pitched cackle rang through the walls of the common room and made up for the traumatic moment the trio had just witnessed.

James was sure he'd pass that year.

And back from his flashback, James scurried on with his essay. He was supposed to write an interpretation of his dream for Divination, mostly because Professor Trelawney seemed awfully serious about failing him that semester.

'What do you reckon me becoming Head Boy in my dream means?', he nudged Althaea, just wondering if he'd get an actual response for once. She was writing down another essay for Muggle studies. Never the quitter, James thought. Althaea turned her head around to face James. 'Doom.', she deadpanned.

'You're probably right.', James nodded as he wrote it down in his essay. 'Doomsday at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,', he whispered, 'for all the students realise the facial prowess of James O'Carroll.' Thea chose ignorance. Eleanor rolled her eyes. 'Why am I your friend again?', she asked.

'That's not a question related to studying, and therefore I'm not obligated to answer that.', James replied as he scribbled down more praises about himself on the parchment. Hey, he did say he was going to bullshit through the subject.

'Who said we're not allowed to ask questions not related to books here?', Eleanor asked, 'I should be allowed to ask whatever I wish.'

'This is a library, the realm of the books and the smart ones. We'd seem like idiots if we spoke of puny friend stuff!'

'I don't think you have to worry about that, you seem like an idiot either way.', Althaea interrupted whilst refilling her quill with more ink before getting back to writing her essay. 'Good one, Thaea!', Eleanor wheezed.  

'You too, Williams.'

///////-------

if you’ve read till here, hi i love you <3 tell us what you think of this nonsense hehe

general writing taglist (ask to be added / removed!): @kaavijournals (hbd sweetie <3), @hazelandsunshine, @47crayons, @artbyeloquent​, @writing-is-a-martial-art​, @the-writing-avocado​, @shinesundark​ 

(also please tell us if you do not want to be tagged in this series as it’s halfway between an og series and fanfiction!)

[floggingink]

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU! 

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip? 

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest 

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence��Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.” 

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme 

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

[asmileyoucouldbottle]

Happily Ever After

I wrote a little JestxCath fluff for @lex656565 ‘s birthday! It’s a little late, but I hope you enjoy! I’m sorry I wasn’t able to celebrate with you in person, but I love you and we’ll be together soon <3 (Btw everyone go check out her blog, her art is amazing!)  Happily Ever After- An impossible AU where Cath has her dream bakery in Hearts and is happily married to Jest. It’s their son’s 4th birthday, so they have a little celebration! Basically straight-up fluff and me pretending the ending of Heartless never happened.

Word Count- 1,468

Ding, ding, ding. 

The bakery’s bell had been going off almost incessantly, and the bakery was full to bursting. Cath smiled proudly at her bustling shop. There were children laughing and eating cookies, couples picking out wedding cakes, and people just enjoying themselves. It was more than she’d ever imagined and wished for.

She jumped a bit as arms wrapped around her waist unexpectedly. Looking up, she smiled into the glowing face of her husband. His eyes twinkled as she spun around to give him a quick kiss. “How’s Hatta?” She asked, since he’d just returned from visiting their friend.

���Sane as ever, not for lack of worrying on his part. In fact…” He was cut off by another ding of the bell. 

“Hatta!” Cath came out from behind the counter, going to give him a quick embrace. “I didn’t think you could make it!”

He shrugged, “I had business to do, but it could wait. Now! Where is my godson?”

“Uncle Hatta!!!” Lewis burst from behind the counter, running to hug his godfather’s leg. Hatta, never really good at displaying affection, just managed to pat Lewis’ head, though his expression was fond.

Jest reached forward and picked his son up, swinging him onto his shoulders. Lewis hooted, and Jest laughed, hopping up to sit on the counter. Cath tsked him, though she knew it was no use. He always sat on the counter, despite her protests. Besides, it was Lewis’ birthday, so she was opposed to a little craziness. Bending the rules once in a while never hurt anybody. 

Raven cawed and came to settle on the young boy’s head. The three of them looked all together ridiculous, and Cath told them just that.

Jest grinned at her, and held out a hand. “Join us, fair lady!” Sighing in overexaggerated bother, she grasped his hand and walked over. He pulled her up beside him, and Cath cast the glass counter beneath her with an anxious glance. Jest wrapped an arm around her waist, and she decided that the counter was insignificant. 

“Mama look!” Cath looked up to see her son waving his arms around. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but she clapped nonetheless. “Please be careful!” 

Hatta frowned, obviously disappointed in the lot of them. The group was getting many curious looks, but the regulars were used to such behavior. Mary Anne had been appalled when she had co-owned the shop, but she’d since left to work managing the sums of the King. Cath couldn’t say she missed her. 

Lewis had proceeded to wave at every single customer, and they all commented on how darling he was. Taking advantage of her distaction, Jest tickled Cath’s side, and she shrieked, batting at his hands. Hopping off the counter, she whacked him lightly with a pamphlet she picked up. He pulled off his hat, and held it in front of her. A bouquet of flowers materialized over the hem. “Forgive me?” He pleaded, not sounding very sorry. 

“Not to break up this lover’s quarrel, but I’m growing impatient. Let’s go in the back.” Hatta’s words dripped with disdain. Jest waved him away, but got to his feet. 

“To the party!” Lewis called. Cath shhed him. “It’s not a party,” she corrected.

“To the cake!” He amended. Jest chuckled, and the group went behind the counter and through the swinging doors to the back. Cath had asked two of their employees, Alfred and Alice, to mind the counter for the day. Either way, It was almost six o’clock, and the two would be closing up shop soon. Cath had forgiven Jest, and walked with his arm around her waist, his flowers in hand. 

In the back, they took the stairs up to their apartment above the shop. Cath had dinner all ready for them, and off to the side a little lemon cake was set up, and balloons for Lewis’s fourth birthday. 

The boy squealed and tried to eat it immediately, but Cath held him back. “Dinner first!”

The group ate in a rather quick manner, as Lewis had eyes only for the cake. The conversation was about Hatta’s recent sales, Lewis and Jest’s adventures in baking, and so on. The conversation only continued a short time after they’d all finished their meal. Lewis soon got antsy, and began to reach for the cake.

“Okay okay, we’ll get ready.” Jest pushed his hand away, laughing slightly. He began to cut the cake, but Cath interrupted him.

“We have to sing first!” she chastised. And so they did. Well, Cath and Jest sang. Even Raven sang, since the lyrics rhymed. Hatta did not, not that anyone expected him to. 

Jest sat with his son on his lap, and Cath couldn’t help but smile at the picture. Both of her boys, with curly hair, lemon eyes, and frosting on their face. She kissed both of their cheeks. Jest brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You had some flour on your face.” He said devilishly, before leaning forward to peck the spot. Lewis was too busy stuffing his face to notice. 

“Oh can’t it wait until I’m home.” Hatta moped. “Anyways, I have a gift for you Lewis!” 

Lewis perked up. “Presents!” He cheered. Hatta reached behind him, and materialised a yellow hat with what appeared to be a mini lemon tree growing a top it. Cath and Jest shared a knowing look and smile. “I’ve heard from your father that you quite like sweet lemon candies, so I thought I’d make you a hat. Now whenever you want a sweet lemon, just reach up and take one. They grow back by themselves.” 

Awestruck, Lewis took the hat. “Thank you Uncle Hatta.” He said, reverently placing it on his head. Hatta smiled, his violet eyes warm. 

“Alright, I’m next.” Jest took his hat off of his head, dramatically, twirled it up and down his arms, flicked it into the air, and caught it. Lewis ooh-ed, ahh-ed, and giggled. 

Turning the hat out invitingly, Jest told his son to close his eyes and reach into the hat. He did so, and pulled out a  deck of magic cards. “It’s time I taught you sleight of hand.” Jest declared. Lewis didn’t hear him, too entranced by the moving pictures on the cards.

“Hey! Isn’t that Mr. Mockturtle?” Lewis asked. Jest nodded. “The cards have little images of all our neighbors and friends.”

“Oooh!!” Lewis bounced up and down, eating a sweet lemon and looking at all the cards. 

Cath was up. Reaching down, she pulled up a holed box and handed it to her son. He opened it, and shrieked with joy. Inside was a little purple and pink kitten. Cheshire refused to ever reveal the details of how he’d come about to have three kittens, but said that Cath was more than welcome to take her pick since he was a “free spirit” and didn’t want to be “burdened with three kittens.”

“Kitty!!!” Lewis squealed, picking it up and hugging it none too gently. Jest carefully loosened his arms and took the cat, cradling it safely.

Raven gave Lewis his gift, “of poetry.” It didn’t go over very well. Lewis gave Raven a blank stare, before yawning. Jest picked him up so Lewis’ chin rested on his shoulder. “Off to bed with you.” He declared. Cath picked up the cat.

“Say goodbye to Hatta.” Jest said as they passed him by. Lewis waved tiredly. 

“Goodnight, dear boy. I’d best be going as well.” Hatta made sure his own cake themed hat was secure on his head. Cath patted his shoulder. “Thank you for your generous gift, and for coming tonight. It was a pleasure to see you.”

Hatta gave her a half-smile, one that left her wondering if he ever liked her or not. “Thank you for the cake and for having me. Send Jest my regards.”

Hatta left, and Cath followed Jest up the stairs with the cat in her hands. Jest was tucking Lewis in bed, and Cath put the little purring hairball next to him. “Until we get a cat bed, he can sleep with you.”

“Kitty..” Lewis yawned, and snuggled with the kitten. It wiggled out of his arms with a squeak. The boy was only momentarily sad, before the kitten turned and settled in a cozy little bundle against his stomach.

“Goodnihgtmomyanddad-” he broke off, sound asleep and smiling. 

Cath rested her head on Jest’s shoulder as they watched their child. Finally, she leaned down to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. When she stood up, Jest brushed back her hair and kissed her as well. 

“Not only children deserve a goodnight kiss.” He stated, yellow eyes shining. Smiling, she pressed her lips against his again, before starting towards their room to get ready for sleep. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #341

“anger, misery, you’ll suffer unto me”

Would you risk your life to save a total stranger? I don't think so. Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? No, and I never would. Grow up. Have you ever done something because of peer pressure you are ashamed of? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever been embarrassed to introduce your parents to anyone? No. Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? Yeah; guilt would eat me alive otherwise. Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? Fucking ew, no. Have you ever held back a well-deserved compliment because you were jealous? No. Do you guilt people into giving you what you want? Ugh, no. Would most people consider you better than average looking? Ha, no. For yourself, would you rather have a perfect body or high IQ? Give me the perfect body, living in my horrible one has affected my mental health badly enough. I'm fine with having a moderate IQ. I just want to feel happy in my own skin. Have you ever embarrassed some intentionally in public? Wow, no. Have you ever used a false ID? Also no. Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? I'm embarrassed to tell people I don't HAVE a job. Do you remember the first conversation you had with the person you have feelings for? I don't. I'm sure it was RP-related and not friendly, but I don't remember the exact convo. Have you ever got a D or F on your report card? I want to say no; I think the lowest I ever got was a C. If you had twins, would you give them rhyming names? Ugh, no. I'm sorry if you're into it, but I'm just not. I would want to ensure they knew their uniqueness and individuality was seen. Is there anyone that you wish was IN your life who used to be? There's a large number of those kinds of people. What brings out the worst in you? Probably when I'm building up towards a PTSD meltdown. I get VERY short and snappy and am convinced everyone hates and wants to leave me. My mouth also has NO fucking leash, and I know I can say very mean things that I'll regret later. What do you prefer, Skittles or Starbursts? Skittles. Mike & Ikes or Jolly Ranchers? Jolly Ranchers for sure. What is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter? Waffles (with syrup). Don't knock it 'til you try it, I'm telling you. What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? Besides birds obviously, there's squirrels, deer, opossums, raccoons... Have you ever had a lucid dream? I think I've had just one. What's your biggest problem at the moment? Probably my anxiety having stunted my growth in so many areas. Have you ever turned down a job offer? I don't think so, no. What's the longest hospital stay you've had? For what? I think my longest was almost two months for suicidal thoughts. Two months might sound long, but it was like... my third or so psych hospital stay for that same reason. What's something really basic that you're terrible at? Even the most simple math. I don't even know the majority of my elementary multiplication tables. Have you ever hugged someone for over a minute? Yeah. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? I have one there already, but I plan on getting it covered because it was an impulse tattoo that I feel no connection towards. Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? My old house, yeah. Are you a beach, country, or city person? Country. Living in the suburbs has definitely reminded me of that... Are you faster at text messaging or typing on the computer? Typing, by a long shot. I make typos texting too much. Have you ever kissed anybody who had a mustache? Yeah. Who is the last person that you said "I love you" to, besides family members? Sara. When was your first real relationship? Sophomore year of high school to early college. Have you ever cried over an ex? I've cried the entire mass of water on Earth over an ex lmao. Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yes. Is there something really bad that you’ve done, that only YOU know about? No. Have you ever copied someone else’s homework? I think I have once or twice, but obviously with consent. What’s a hobby you would like to try out? If my legs worked like actual legs and I didn't sweat like an absolute pig, I would like to try out herping, but without actually interacting with the animal like picking it up and scaring the daylights out of it. I'd just be happy enough looking for reptiles, amphibians, and inverts to photograph instead. Does that still even count as herping? What was the last event you attended? My youngest niece's birthday party. How about the last event you organized? I've never organized an event. What’s something you get excited about doing and want to do it right away? Whenever I take nature pictures, I'm immediately keen to get them into Lightroom and do the postproduction. Is there anything you feel you’re better at than anybody else? Definitely not. What’s the biggest insect you’ve ever seen? If you exclude places like the zoo, that would probably be a rhinoceros beetle or something. Oh no, actually some kind of local moth I don't know the name of. They're beautiful big white boiz. How about the biggest spider? I might be mis-remembering, but I believe at a reptile convention I went to with Sara, one of the vendors had a goliath bird eater tarantula in one of the cups. I do know it was some tarantula species for sure, though. Who was the first person to break your heart? My dad. Obviously not romantically, but him just splitting on the family with no proper communication absolutely broke my heart for years. First person to give you flowers or candy on Valentine’s day? I'm sure that would be my parents. If you exclude them 'cuz that's kinda obvious, I believe it was Aaron, my first boyfriend. I'm pretty sure we were together on Valentine's Day, because I remember getting him a giant Hershey's Kiss. First band you obsessed about? I wasn't truly obsessed with any band 'til Ozzy in middle school. Can you do a backflip? No; I've never tried and never will. I was and still am too afraid of breaking my neck. Like I have a MASSIVE fear of paralysis, particularly from the neck down; that fear is actually the biggest one that keeps me from driving, fun fact. Are you an optimist or a pessimist? Of the two, definitely a pessimist, but I at least think I align most with being a realist. What’s the biggest lie you’ve told someone? I'm unsure. Have you ever been hit on by someone of the same sex? Yeah. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Just one. Have you ever been engaged and broke it off? No. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Tyler once drew a picture of him and me. It was cute. That guy still dove in WAY too fast. Have you ever dated a redhead? I haven't, but I love redheads. Natural red hair is just gorgeous. What are your thoughts on facial hair on guys? Historically, I seem to generally like some, but it really depends on the guy's general appearance. I can like none at all or a full beard and mustache, it doesn't really matter to me. Did you go anywhere today? No; my mom is in Florida with her brothers totally cleaning out Grammy's house, so she's not here to take me anywhere. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Oh yikes, I have a lot. I honestly can't count because I've lost track of how many boys and girls Katie has. You have a choice to shoot your father or die, what would you do? Jesus. I'd rather die; some things just aren't worth living after, and I'd have no desire to keep going if I killed my father. Did you ever cry at the end of King Kong? I've never watched it, actually, but I. LOVED. The video game. I haven't played it in years and only faintly remember how it ends, but I don't remember crying. Are you in any amount of pain at the moment? Quite a lot, actually. It's kinda a TMI subject so I won't delve into it, just know I'm hurting like a bitch. What was the last sugary thing you ate? I snacked on some chocolate chips earlier today... which I really shouldn't have done, but I think I had reasonable restraint and didn't totally binge. When was the last time you did something extremely stupid? Who knows, that's not a rare occurrence, it feels like. Have you been to any parties lately? Only my niece's bday party in February. Thankfully it was kept pretty small, given Covid; not that anyone in that family besides my sister gives a flying fuck about precautions, though... Can you touch your pinky to your thumb around your wrist? Ugh, no. Close, but not enough. I still have thin wrists and hands, but yeah, yay for being overweight. If you were to start a charity, what would you call it? I'd hve to put more thought than I'm willing for one survey question. I'd have to decide what KIND of charity I want to start first, which I'm unsure of. Probably something related to animal wellfare and conservation or something similar to the Trevor Project. Maybe LBGTQ+ youth disowned by their families... I dunno. There's so much good I wish I could do. Are you comfortable with your body? Holy fuck no. It's only gotten worse since I started gaining weight again and almost entirely erased all weight loss progress I'd made. What is your recent inside joke? Most recently made? Idk, man. I don't make those often. Would you rather be a human, vampire, or a werewolf? Er, I'm good with being a human. If I was a vampire or werewolf, I wouldn't exactly be very welcomed, I'm sure, and both have seemingly painful traits to cope with. Are you good at giving directions? It is absolutely impossible for me. I have NO sense of direction, like, at all. I don't know highway names, local exits, etc. etc. etc. etc. Why did you last curse? Pain when readjusting myself due to aforementioned issue I'm having. What is your purpose in life? I hope it involves animals and spreading words of peace and an appreciation for art. What is one of your weak points? I'm very, very, very dependent on others. I'm really working on trying to correct that. I can barely do shit on my own as is. Who was the last person you heard snoring? My cat, haha. Would you rather shower by yourself or with another person? 100% by myself. Another person would just get in the way and make me VERY self-conscious of my body, even if it was my romantic partner. Just please leave me alone to hate myself for 10 minutes. :^) What was your last addiction? You could say my current one is John Wolfe, a really funny let's player I've gotten into. Been bingeing some of my favorite games he has playlists of for a few weeks now. You are in a tank full of spiders, what do you do? Well one, I'd like to know what kind they are. Venomous? Harmless? You gotta give me the details. If I don't have any, then I'm admittedly freaking the fuck out, even though I know I should stay very calm when trying to get out. Fear would win, though. If killing yourself meant saving the world, would you? Saving the world from what? But odds are, yeah. I don't cherish my pretty damn mediocre life more than I do the lives of what, 8 billion people? Have you ever stayed up all night just to talk to someone? Yeah. When was the last time you eavesdropped someone? I kinda do that sometimes when Mom's on the phone and I can hear her from my room, and if they're on speaker. Particularly if the subject is me. When was the last time you went to a club? I've never been to one. How have you been sleeping? Poorly. Are you adopted? No, I'm not. Do you like scrapbooking? Not really, no. Do you collect anything valuable? "Valuable to me." <<<< This. Nothing of great monetary worth, though. Have you ever been beaten up? No, thankfully. Do you know anyone with an eating disorder? I don't think so, in my personal life. What was the last thing you killed? An ant. Have you ever used someone for money? I never could, no. When was the last time you went to the zoo? Sigh, it's been many many years. I'm so ready to get my goddamn legs back in shape so I can go again, this time with a REAL camera, too. Last time I went was when I still only had a Kodak EasyShare; I have a professional Canon camera now with much more education on photography too, so I would be in absolute heaven with at least twenty memory cards in need, haha. Maybe next fall... Is there a teacher you hate more than anything? I actually never had a teacher I hated in my entire school career. It really, really is as simple as just being a respectful student. In most cases, I should emphasize, because I do understand some educators just suck. Now I had some teachers I wasn't very fond of, but most certainly none that I hated. Do you own colored eyeliner? No. Do you have manners? I honestly think I'm very mannerly. When was the last time that you had a pet that died? We last had to put my dog Teddy down; he had cancer and was literally withering away. I knew in my very core that even if we didn't bring him to the vet to euthanize him, he would've died naturally in a very short period of time; I doubt he would've survived another night. Now I'd like to move on. What is your favorite medication that you take, and why? The combination of Vraylar and Lamictal is the reason I'm alive. It keeps my bipolarity and depression under control. Do you decorate Mason jars? No, but those are some of my favorite crafts visually. They're very pretty and cute. Can you see the mountains from where you live? Oh hunny, I wish. Did you ever play pranks on April Fool’s Day? As a kid, yeah. I don't anymore. I'm not really even a fan of April Fool's Day as an adult because of how cruel some jokes assholes play are. Which instrument would you play if you could learn to play one? Maybe violin. Do you part your hair on the left side, right side, or in the middle? The left. What are some names you like that start with the first letter of your name? Uhhhh Bianca, Braelynn (look I know it's so stereotypically Southern but it's pretty)... and idk from there, those are the two that come to mind first.

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Terrors Untold: Day 28 - Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark

Fuck EVERYTHING about this dream. Firstly, it felt WAY too real, like I swear I was actually there experiencing the whole thing. It was BEYOND creepy and it took everything I had to wake myself up, and even after I woke up, I felt incredibly uncomfortable for awhile.

Night of Thursday, August 23rd, 2018, Age 22

It was late at night, I was at some strange-looking store of sorts and I was on my way out. The exit was in the kid section of the store where they had all of these toys and books for young children ages 1 through 8. A man was standing there with his two younger sons - probably 6 and 4 - the youngest on the floor playing with a train and the oldest looking at a shelf of books, pointing to one and telling his dad he wanted “this one”. His dad sounded very unsure about getting it and even when the kid pulled it out to show him the cover, the younger brother seemed to get quite upset, saying in a whiny voice how he didn’t like it and wanted him to put it back. I had my back to them when this happened, so being curious, I snuck a glance at what all of the commotion was about.

The book the kid was holding (which, in size and overall appearance, looked like a children’s storybook with large illustrations) didn’t look all that child-friendly. It was called something along the lines of “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark” and the cover was done up in all of these different shades of grey, black, and blue, showing a large house with a harrowing-looking kid with wide, black, sunken-in eyes, standing at a window, staring outside at a nearby dark forest. The art style looked VERY similar to the style of the “Deep Dark Fears” comic strip series I’ve seen here on Tumblr, which have always unnerved me. 

I heard the 6 year old boy trying to talk his dad into getting him the book, even though his brother was clearly bothered by it. His dad said, “Oh I don’t know, *insert name*. It looks pretty scary”, to which the son argued that he liked scary - which obviously wasn’t true. I then went over to them, politely asked for the book, and said, “Here, let me have a look. I love horror so I’ll be the judge on just how scary it is.” I went to open the book, saying, “I’ll just flip through it. I won’t actually read it - I’ll just take a look at the pictures”, and somehow, I have no idea how, but I was no longer in the store anymore. I was now outside descending a stone stairway down to a sidewalk near a road near a set of large houses surrounded by a bunch of trees and bushes. I have no idea how late it was but no one was outside and any and all lights were off in the houses. There was barely any street light and for some reason, my youngest brother (age 14 at the time I had this dream) was with me.

I looked through the book, not bothering to question where I was or what was going on. I flipped through it, going on how it wasn’t too bad. Meanwhile, my brother was getting creeped out and he too was thinking that the book was scary, going on about something mentioned in the book about “taking the children’s eyes after reading it”. I nervously laughed and kept looking through the book, insisting it wasn’t that bad. Creepy for kids, yes, but nothing TOO bad. I also told him how ridiculous that sounded. Like, seriously - reading about the unknown monster in the story somehow resulted in readers losing their eyes? Yeah right! 

I remember taking a glance at him and his eyes were wide with fear, and he started frantically pointing out at something in front of us. I turned around and lowered the book, and standing in front of us was the dad from the store - who was completely alright, asking me something I didn’t hear - and his two sons, who nearly made my heart give out. 

Both of their eyes were gone, just gaping sunken black holes in their place, their skins were deathly pale, and their mouths were hanging agape, dark with their teeth malformed. They basically looked like the changeling children from “Supernatural”, Season 3, Episode 2 “The Kids Are Alright”. This freaked me out, especially with how the dad was acting fine, and there was an extremely eerie, silent yet whispering sort of sound filling the air and it grew a lot creepier every time I took a glance at the kids, who were just standing there, staring at me. I was deeply unsettled and immediately freaked, jumping back and motioning to the kids, asking what the FUCK had happened to them. The dad looked really confused, took a glance at them, looked back at me, and didn’t seem to understand why I was yelling at his kids. It’s like he wasn’t able to see what I was seeing.

I started panicking and tried to walk away, wanting to leave and immediately go home, but when I turned around, my brother was gone and there were now two little kids standing there, also pale with malformed mouths and eyeless faces. They weren’t saying anything, just “watching” me, inching closer any time I moved to back away. I immediately turned to run, only to suddenly find myself at home (it wasn’t our actual house though). I was standing right by the front screen door, breathing shakily and looking outside at the dark streets with fear. I felt like a terrified child expecting the boogeyman to come and take me away. I looked down and noticed how I still had the book with me. I noticed how the cover of it seemed very familiar now - like I myself had just been out there, near THAT forest, near THAT house, and everything had been in those exact shades of grey and blue.

In a hurry, I started flipping through the pages, remembering what my brother had said about what happens to the readers. This time I actually took glances at some of the wording, and holy FUCK, it was dark and sinister. It was more or less told in a similar fashion to “The Babdook”, what with rhymes to somehow make it more “child-friendly”. It kept going on about some unknown, unseen entity of sorts that watches your every move, knows when you’re awake and when you’re asleep, and what you think of. How you get up late in the middle of the night with unnerving thoughts racking your brain, causing chills to crawl up your spine. How there’s something in the woods that’s watching and plans to get inside your head, and once it does, it’ll be too late for you. So on and so forth. And even though it had a rhyming scheme and seemed all “child-like”, the illustrations were all just as dark and eerie as the cover, and the story just grew increasingly more and more dark and disturbing as it went on. 

I was genuinely terrified at this point. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, my breathing was coming out fast. I hastily skipped to the end ‘cause I NEEDED to know how the story ended, I NEEDED to know what were the last lines anyone saw before whatever it was got to them and messed them up. The last paragraph went on (in the same rhyming “child-like” manner) about how IT will find its way to you, how IT will get to you, how the longer you stared at the page the closer IT was approaching, how your eyes were going to be taken away by IT. Basically it was going on about how it was too late, you fell into its trap, your body and soul were going to be taken by this THING, and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it. It was like the story suddenly broke the 4th wall and was blatantly telling the reader that they’re fucked. 

At this point, I was tearing up and gasping in horror because I realized then that I did in fact just read the story, and when I lifted my head, standing right outside the screen door were two deformed children, just like the others, staring at me motionless. I screamed and threw the book at them. I heard some sound - I don’t remember exactly what - come from behind me and I remember realizing how there weren’t any lights on in the house; it was dark as all hell behind me. I suddenly felt like I was being watched and like something was right behind me, watching me from the shadows. It’s right here when I managed to force myself awake before anything else could happen.

[queensofrap]

Most Misunderstood: Iggy Azalea's American Dream    

he early reality of Amethyst Kelly is difficult to imagine. There was once a small home in the tiny Australian town of Mullumbimby, made of red brick, cemented by mud and laid by her father's careful hands. Her mother would spend her days emptying trash bins at a motel as a vacation rental cleaner, a path Amethyst would eventually follow at age 14. Water didn't always run, clothes were never new, and bathrooms were separated from the home by a muddied path. It's a tale of immensely humble beginnings, a hemisphere away from the life she would come to inhabit as Iggy Azalea a decade later. And while her origins are unfathomable for some, it's Amethyst's American dream that remains universal.

I first witnessed a glimpse of that dream in the fall of 2011. It was through a cracked iPhone screen, held casually by my friend. "You have to see this bitch," she announced, flicking her perfectly coiled locs and turning up the volume. "She's every-fucking-thing!" There, on the screen, was a tall, curvy woman with ice-blonde hair and creamy incandescent skin. She was surrounded by two brown cheerleaders in matching green uniforms, strutting in towering heels and rapping furiously: My world, rhyme vicious/ White girl team, full of bad bitches. Immediately, I recognized her: this confident, eccentric girl who didn't fit into preppy white hierarchies. While others girls were quoting lines from Mean Girls, imagining themselves Regina George, she appeared as someone I knew. A girl unruly and self-possessed, always late to class, always blasting D4L. I could see her crafting beats with her knuckles and strolling into class hours late, another detention slip placed on her desk. We were sold.

If "My World" was the bait, "Pussy" was the hook, line and sinker. Iggy, Iggy/ Pussy illy/ Wetter than the Amazon/ Taste this kitty! Her accent was thick and affected, reminiscent of our cherished childhood favorite Diamond from Atlanta's Crime Mob. The "Pussy" video was a Boyz N The Hood homage with ATLien pastiche. There were ice cream trucks and babysitting, front porch posing and concrete runways, sherbet-colored pants and shredded shorts. And we weren't the only ones taking notice of Iggy and her ways. Seemingly overnight, our private cafeteria secret had become a viral phenomenon.

“ Here I am at the darkest period of my life, contemplating suicide, and I'm singing "Switch.“

Press came quickly, grand and bold. The New York Times suggested that "all this proximity to blackness characterizes Iggy Azalea as a person who is no stranger to black culture and communities, suggesting it's no anomaly for her to rock the mic." The Los Angeles Times described her flow as "brash and aggressive," while Complex decided that she was ready to "really make her mark on the game." Classmates had her image as their screensavers and sprawled across their Tumblrs, and were dropping her name in new music debates. She performed at small venues in Atlanta and cars across the city boomed with Never not better/ Law should ban it! A few months later, when "Murda Bizness" featuring T.I. dropped, her dream was actualized. She was not a one-hit wonder. She was a star, poised to rise.

There are many forgotten Iggy freestyles from that era. In one, she raps over Chris Brown's "Look At Me Now," prophesying her divisive nature. In another, titled "Home Town Hatred," she reflects on her time in Australia and her desire to leave. Over Kanye West's ominous "Hell of A Life" beat, she details how industry executives told her to dumb it down. But it was her 2011 "D.R.U.G.S." freestyle that first illuminated the parameters of her ignorance.

Reflecting the industry's tendency not to look at things too deeply, at first the song went unchallenged. (It would be a year before its lyrics were critically examined). In fact, Complex covered the freestyle, commending her craft and comparing her to fellow white rapper Yelawolf. The following January, Iggy signed to major label Interscope, tweeting, "Get used to me + Jimmy [Iovine] smashing shit, cause that's the plan."

In February of 2012, she landed the coveted cover of XXL's Freshman Class issue: an annual declaration of hip-hop stars poised to break big. Between up-and-comers French Montana and Future stands Iggy in a lush green fur. She was the first woman to ever grace the cover — a backhanded achievement. For many, XXL is a bastion of hip-hop excellence. To be a cover star and stamped with their approval was to suggest an imminent dominance. If Iggy could be shot, styled, and photographed for her buzz, where were the black women who broke the boundaries, paved the lanes, and inspired her craft?

It was Harlem-born musician and artist Azealia Amanda Banks who first articulated concern about Iggy's image and her space within hip-hop. On Twitter, Banks wrote, "Iggy Azalea on the XXL freshman list is all wrong. How can you endorse a white woman who called herself a 'runaway slave master'? Sorry guys, I'm a pro black girl. I'm not anti white girl, but I'm also not here for any1 outside of my culture trying to trivialize very serious aspects of it."

Media outlets immediately crafted Bank's criticism into a heavily publicized rap beef, thrusting Banks into the insidious stereotype of bitter black woman. The line Banks referred to was a re-interpretation of a Kendrick Lamar lyric on Iggy's "D.R.U.G." freestyle. In Kendrick's 2010 track "Look Out For Detox," he raps, When the relay starts/ I'm a runaway slave. In Iggy's version, she says, When the relay starts/ I'm a runaway/ Slave master/ Shittin' on the past/ Gotta spit it like a pastor.

Conversations surrounding the lyric lacked necessary context. Journalists missed questions and painted simple proclamations. In October of 2011, Banks had tweeted, "how sexy is iggy azalea?? It's kind of ridiculous…*tugs collar to let out steam*." In January, she wrote "Iggy Azalea's hair looks really great in her new video. How long do you all reckon that hair is? 40" in? By March 2012, the dream was dented, with Iggy being called out as misappropriating at best, racist at worst.

She issued a heartfelt apology, which fell on mostly unsympathetic ears. Two months later, Iggy was dropped by Interscope. Her debut album, The New Classic, stalled indefinitely. But still, there was room for redemption. In April 2013, Iggy signed with Mercury Records, a UK subsidiary of Universal Music Group. After recording new music in England, she returned stateside, armed with a completed album and a firmly set 2014 release date. During press runs she's tested: asked if she's an imposter; if her body is enhanced; if the cringe-worthy assumptions about her mentor T.I. are true. Old tweets were dug up, which made the disdainful murmurings worse. She's asked to freestyle on Sway, but instead inexplicably recites a line from her own album. Her music begins to change, becoming less lyrically explicit and trap-influenced, and more poppy and prim. Now a Complex cover star, she fumbles when asked about her divisive rapping accent. She's quoted saying, "This is the entertainment industry. It's not politics." Soon enough, that statement would no longer be true.

In 2012, political discussions had begun to dominate all forms of media. The slain lives of Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis became proponents of combustible change. Movements like Black Lives Matter materialized, refusing silence or forgetfulness of the innocent and slaughtered black people, churning hundreds of American murders into global narratives. Each case, though singular and specific, represented the transgressions of America's not-too-distant-past and its perpetual present. If there was once a time when innocent victims could be smudged from history and their murderers left unscathed, that clock no longer ticked. Images of callous violence circulated more than music. Cellphone and camera footage displayed women being beaten, children being shot, and men being strangled. Language seemed to shift, relegating all ignorance to silence; expanding itself to capture the expansive feelings of others. And at the top of the same year, "Fancy" was released. Like lightning, Iggy's dream merged seamlessly with reality. She was now a star with a verifiable hit.

With her Clueless themed video for the inescapable track, 2014 became the year of Iggy's art. She held the number one spot on Billboard's Hot 100 for seven consecutive weeks. She luxuriated in the second spot too, appearing as a featured artist on Ariana Grande's "Problem." Billboard claimed Iggy tied with The Beatles and attached her name to the legacies of Mariah Carey, Missy Elliott, Lauryn Hill, and Nicki Minaj. She was now booking prime-time television spots — appearing on Good Morning America with Charli XCX — and on the covers of grocery store aisle magazines. Forbes declared her "Hip Hop's New Queen of Rap" and she was nominated for four Grammys. Simultaneously, America's racial rhetoric and division began to feel claustrophobic. In early February, Yvette Smith was murdered on her front porch. In August, Michael Brown Jr. and Ezell Ford were shot and killed. November was the month Laquan McDonald and Tamir Rice became portraits of unfinished lives. In July, Eric Garner was placed in an illegal chokehold, his last words becoming a symphony of unbearable sadness. The dichotomy between a world callously slaughtering black people on one end and rewarding a white rapper with success and visibility on another was dizzying.

What is it like to attach oneself exclusively to a dream, to pursue it even as the odds are stacked against you?

By 2015 the dream dissolved completely. Iggy was accused of racism, cultural appropriation, minstrelsy, and ignorance, becoming the perfect conduit for whiteness and all of its horrors. Her silence during racist events was considered complicit. A world tour was canceled, and neither a follow up album or a Top 10 hit reappeared. In 2016, she announced Digital Distortion, her sophomore album that was ultimately held after three singles — "Team," "Mo Bounce," and "Switch" — and a leaked music video. This year, Iggy released "Savior" with hopes of a refresh.

To some, she was an untalented white supremacist Barbie, infiltrating a space crafted by black people and laughing to the bank. Her dream — an innocent one of music, money, and acclaim — had become grotesque. To others, she was an iconic legend who was just easily projected upon. Now a refracted mirror for public opinion, a line was permanently drawn: black or white — no in-between.

But for me, there's always been a gray area. In art, in music, and in life, there is a space where the eye can shift inward to ask and answer questions. What might it look like for a young girl in Australia to re-discover life through hip-hop? What did it look like to want to manifest a world of make-believe, to create art once unseen? What is it like to attach oneself exclusively to a dream, to pursue it even as the odds are stacked against you? What do you do when you can't separate criticism from hate? When each day you're bombarded with projections based on media machinations? What does it look like when your dream comes true, when it's finally real, only for it to be mocked? To me, it's a perfect portrait of America.

At The Roxy Hotel, in New York City, I sat with Iggy Azalea. We spoke about her life, her dream, her craft, and her upcoming music. She was thoughtful and articulate, eyes glinting with Gemini humor and intellect, deeply apologetic and severely misunderstood. This is what transpired.

Can you take me back to your childhood? I read that your hometown is called "The Biggest Little Town in Australia." What was it like?

I still don't know why the fuck they call it that. It was a really small town, incredibly rural, but there's a looser, less stereotypical element to it. There were a lot of crystals and hippies, weed smokers, and horoscopes. The town was split between this hippie, carefree fairy spectrum, or conservative farmers and their crops. My parents were on the fairy spectrum, but I went to public school. Everyone there was straight-laced with names like Amber and Stephanie and there I was as Amethyst, with platform shoes, and immediately it was like, Okay, bitch prepare to get bullied.

What were the students like?

There were two schools. One was private and more artistic, and that's where all the people that could be considered carefree and more imaginative were able to go. The public school was very sterile, very conservative. The private school was expensive and my family had no money for that, so I went to the public school and I was miserable. These were the children of bricklayers whose parents drove tractors and guys who played football on the weekends. I got teased for everything. Literally everything, there was no winning with those kids.

I'm ignorant to Australia — I've never been — but there is the classic stereotype of the tanned, athletic, white Australian. When we think of whiteness, we often forget its specifications, even the types that are lauded and coveted. For instance there's the archetype of the popular blonde. You were tall, pale, and curvy…

Oh my goodness, yes! And I was never that girl. Not even anywhere near that girl's posse. I never fit in and there was a time I really tried to fit in. I remember getting teased because I hadn't shaved my legs yet. I was only in sixth grade and I had never even thought of something like that. They would call me "monkey" everyday. One day I got my mom's razor and shaved my legs thinking it would finally be over and it wasn't. There was always a new thing. My hat. My mole. My weight. All of these things now seem so dumb, but I didn't do anything like them and there was no appeasing those kids.

When did you first think of leaving?

I always knew I was going to leave because I knew I didn't belong with any of the people that lived there. I only decided I wanted to go to America when I visited the states with my grandparents. I was 11, and I remember seeing all the showgirls in Las Vegas, all their sparkles and rhinestones. They were the most fabulous girls I had ever seen. I had only seen something like that on TV, and it blew my mind. Then we went to Hollywood, and there were all these wig stores and the Star Walk, and just seeing all the ways people dressed, how they styled their hair, the color of their wigs, I wanted to be able to do all of those things. When I wanted to dress like this in Australia, I'd get shitted on. But coming to America and watching people put on a show, watching them being ridiculously fabulous, no one was doing that where I was from. Nobody was even wearing high heels in Mullumbimby.

When did you put the plan in action?

That happened when I really started to get into music. I was insanely confident, with the kind of deluded grandeur that I think you need when no else believes in you. I thought I was good at it even though in retrospect I was bad still. I was about 14 and that's when I started writing music. I'd go to open mic nights and take the bus all over the city. I'd go to battle raps, I'd get booed. There was a sound audio engineering school, called SAE, and the first music I ever recorded was there. From 14 to 16, that's when the plan formed. As soon as I started writing, I knew music was what I had to do. Even if I wasn't a rapper, I thought I could be a sound engineer or a writer. I just knew I wanted to be involved in music. And I knew I had to get the fuck out of where I lived. It was suffocating me. I wanted to live in a place where the sky was the limit, a place where my dreams weren't strange or weird, where others had even crazier ideas than me. I knew all of that was in America, and that's where I had to go and that's where I thought people were going to accept my wild thoughts. I tried Sydney and Melbourne and they just weren't it. Nothing else was.

"I wanted to live in a place where the sky was the limit, a place where my dreams weren't strange or weird, where others had even crazier ideas than me. I knew all of that was in America."

Why Miami first?

They had a SAE campus in Miami. I thought I would be able to get in and get a student visa. I saved up enough money to live there for a couple of months, but I didn't have enough to live and go to school, so I ended up not going.

Next was Houston. What was that like?

I only lived there for a year. This producer found my music through Myspace, and he said if I was ever in Houston to let him know. Then he told me all the people he produced for, and I was so excited because I really loved Rap-A-Lot records, so I went. I met him and he was really cool. We recorded a bunch of songs and we would go to Metropolis. It was in a strip mall and everyone would just hang out in front of their cars, and inside one side was reggaeton and the other was a Slim Thug record chopped n' screwed. The plan was to give the DJ your cd and hopefully he'd play it, which they never do. Then you'd hangout in the parking lot until someone has a fist fight and then you go home. Those were my nights there. Just absorbing everything. I made some friends and then Hurricane Ike hit. Most of my friends were moving to Atlanta because their homes were destroyed. I went too.

How were you making money?

Two of my friends introduced me to their sound engineer and his girlfriend would come to the studio and drop him off lunch. She and I ended up becoming roommates. I told her how I had gone to Thailand before and how fascinated I was with the hair. How you could get in bundles and stuff. She said we should save up money to go and then bring it back and sell it to salons. So we saved up and went on our last dime. She had just graduated college and was working at Bank of America and we went out there and got a bunch of hair. When we came back we sold it super quick, wholesale, to all the salons. It was insane. Technically, even though I didn't have a work visa it isn't illegal if you invest in someone's business. So she registered it as little corporation under her name and I invested in it.

There's this idea that there was "Fancy" and then boom — immediate success! But there were a lot of setbacks.

Obviously there are years that people don't know about. I was in Atlanta for nearly two years just writing for people. I was doing so many writers camps for other known artists, just trying to get my spot. That's why there were a lot of pop demo references that came out. Everyone accused me of wanting to be a pop star and that wasn't something I've ever been interested in. I would write pop music with other people and try to get it placed. I've always rapped. Even the video that came out of the pop song, that was just some shit I did with my friend. We were playing.

The wildest thing is that there are so many reports that I used to be a model and that's always been strange. Just last week on my Spotify profile my bio says, "Iggy Azalea was a high profile model before she became a rapper." When?! I would have loved to be a high profile model, but last time I checked I'm a fucking size eight. What the fuck runway or editorial model do you know that size? There's so much of those kind of rumors that have a mind of their own now.

How did you end up in LA?

The music I was making in Atlanta, I started putting a couple of songs online. They didn't have anymore than 300-400 views. I still don't know how the fuck they found me, but an A&R at Interscope messaged me. He told me he had asked his girlfriend at the time, "Who do you think is cool?" And she played him my music. I was skeptical but he ended up being legitimate. He said I should move to LA and as soon as my lease was up, I went.

When I moved there they put me with a bunch of people. They were trying to help me make connections, but they didn't really understand what I was doing. I met these guys who make up "D.R.U.G.S." about a year after I moved to LA. We'd record in their garage. YG was there. Mustard was there before he was DJ Mustard. Ty Dolla $ign was there all the time. That's where I made Ignorant Art and put out "Pussy."

That song was such a success, Interscope must have been happy.

I had gotten to the end of things with Interscope and was at the point where I felt like since they didn't understand me, this would be a "fuck you." As soon as I put out "Pussy," they called me and said they totally understood the vision. It was a "what the fuck" moment. For nearly a year I had been trying to explain it to them, and suddenly when I did it on my own they want me? I don't think they truly got it, I think they just saw the numerical element to it.

Were you signed to Interscope yet at that point?

I finally had my meeting with Jimmy Iovine after that, and they wanted to sign me. The problem was my A&R wanted to manage me. Interscope, at the time, was working on an in-house management team with LMFAO. They wanted me to sign a document that literally detailed how signing would be a conflict of interest. They gave me two options: sign or leave. I had so many potential deals with other labels but in the end I chose Interscope. We got all the way down to the agreement and, the day of, the deal was dead. Completely done. I had bigger offers, better offers, and I stayed to be loyal to the people who helped me when I was in Atlanta.

What happened?

That was a Jimmy situation and it had a lot to do with Azealia Banks. They wanted to sign her and it became a conflict of interest. Once that happened, everyone wondered why I wasn't signed, why Jimmy didn't want it, and it brought into question my worth as an artist. No one wanted to fucking touch me at all. I couldn't get a deal anywhere after that. Before this I could've asked for a fucking elephant, a Ferrari, four monkeys, and a million dollars — after there was nothing. People wondered, What was wrong with Iggy Azalea? That's how it works with these things. I was done.

What'd you do next?

I had to go to England. I got new management based out of the UK and went and recorded a bunch of music in Wales with a few producers from America. I recorded "Work" and most of The New Classic there and went and shopped a deal in England. They were the only place that didn't give a fuck about what had happened in America. I signed to Mercury Records and after putting out my music there, I came back to America to get upstreamed through Universal Records. I put out five singles through Def Jam before I ever had "Fancy." I toured with Nas before "Fancy." I toured with Beyoncé before "Fancy." I toured my own tour in Europe and North America before "Fancy." I had done five tours before I ever made "Fancy." "Fancy" was truly the last attempt. Not for me to quit music, but for the label to quit me. They had given me four video budgets, none of them exceeded their expectations, and "Fancy" was their last hurrah. For them it was like either this works or it doesn't, but we're gonna put the album out and see if it sells. I decided to do something left and do Clueless, and it worked. Luckily, we had so many attempts before that with the label and this one worked.

What was that moment like?

I was really happy and surprised. I've always known the art I make is pretty left. I didn't expect it to connect. Music has changed a lot from when I first started, but at the time, my music was considered left. There was a lot of monumental success from "Fancy" that I didn't anticipate. All these people were discovering my music and suddenly I'm doing shows with 6,000-7,000 people. It was way more than I ever imagined. I thought I'd be doing basement shows or college parties and even that was so cool to me. I thought I had fully made it! I didn't think beyond that. To see brands that I knew, magazines, all of these mainstream fixtures, people, and media embrace my music, I never could have dreamt that.

When "Fancy" gained such visibility, the media seemed to adore you. Billboard said you tied with The Beatles and bested Michael Jackson. Forbes declared you "Queen of Hip Hop." What were your thoughts during that time?

It was very strange. I never said I was the queen of rap, I've never even thought that. I truly think it was like a great white hope, similar to the film Rocky. All of these people were championing me and branding me these things because of their own projections and not only were they outlandish, they were all incredibly premature. I had just started and there was this influx of, "Queen of rap! Queen of the world! Best record ever! Song of the century!" And so everyone starts saying, "No she's not, fuck her! She has some fucking nerve!" And all of those are things I never said.

What were your thoughts when you were then nominated for four Grammys, including Best Rap Album and Best Record of the Year?

I remember sitting at the Grammy's praying to God I didn't win, literally crossing my fingers, hoping there was no media frenzy. I didn't ask to be nominated. I don't even think I deserved nominations. People were so frustrated with those headlines and all those articles became attached to me personally. People assumed that's how I saw myself, or how I thought of my music. It's never been that. There was this element of trying to humble me, a moment where it seemed like, "Oh this bitch thinks she's this? We're gonna fucking show her that she ain't shit."

Did you ever anticipate that side of fame?

I've always known that I'm controversial. I love to move the needle. Things like "Murda Bizness," yes — I'm going to put toddlers and tiaras in a music video and I know many won't understand it. Or with "Pussy," yes there is a child and I know it pushes buttons. But I think that the best things in pop culture are polarizing. I knew I would always come with controversy, but that was a different kind of controversy. I didn't anticipate that. I didn't even anticipate the success. I didn't think that would be the thing that made it all come crumbling down.

"I think that the best things in pop culture are polarizing."

What is your biggest regret during that time?

I wish that I would've handled criticism better in the beginning. I knew I was polarizing. I aim to be polarizing, sometimes too polarizing where I've pushed the limit too far. When I first got here, there was so much I thought I understood that I really didn't. I've really had to learn a lot of things by being here and having friends and seeing things play out in real life. Especially in the last few years in culture and how far conversations have come, I look back and cringe.

Like what?

Things like the Kendrick lyric, something I profusely apologized for and have learned from. That wasn't okay. It was insanely ignorant. That wasn't an experience to toy with. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way, specifically with that line, like fuck, I hate that I said it. There was so much criticism that came with "Fancy" and I wish I would've handled it better, but it felt very thick.

Everything was coming from every angle. My success. Being worn out. Having lawsuits. I had five different court cases and all of that factored into my responses. It was hard to decipher what criticism was valid and what criticism was just hate. Even with Azealia, we've since spoken and in retrospect, I'm sorry that I trivialized the way she felt about her experience as a black woman navigating the music industry. She and I have our own history and beef about other shit, but when she went on the radio and spoke there was validity to it. Those were her experiences that many others could relate to and I can't take those away, but at the time I thought it was her saying 'fuck you' and trying to hate on me.

You felt what she said was valid in the end?

There were so many critiques she made that were valid. I wish I hadn't been so defensive and emotional, but it invalidated important conversations that shouldn't be overlooked. It created a situation where it looks like I'm unable to be accountable, or I'm unable to accept criticism, that I'm tone deaf, and a fucking idiot. I felt like I had to defend myself against everyone, and that attitude didn't work in my favor. I wish I didn't give impulse responses and say things that made it worse. I was just popping off shit, and I wish I would've thought before I spoke. The problem got so big that I didn't know how to handle it, and I just thought I'll just go away and wait until it blows over or gets better. But it won't just get better, I have to acknowledge it and have conversations about it because otherwise it seems like I don't give a fuck or I'm not ready to take accountability.

Why do you think you weren't able to hear the criticism at the time?

I think when you're an artist and you're just starting out, especially as someone who isn't American, there's a difficult line to walk. I came here when I was 16 and people don't seem to understand that that time period truly defines who I am. They don't get that a lot of these things are my genuine influences, the same way they were informed and influenced by their surroundings. I really did live here. I lived in apartment full of people from Jamaica and after work we'd battle rap by the pool. I really did have friends that were involved in illegal activities. I was actually in the south, recording with Dem Franchize Boyz, listening to Outkast, Dungeon Family, Field Mob, Crime Mobb. And that seems incredibly hard for people to swallow. People think I should rap about Australia in an Australian accent but I'm 28-year-old woman now. I can't rap about being 10 and living in Australia. That never inspired me. My time in America, my time in those cities, were when I really started having life experiences that were worthy of going into my music. It all happened here in this country.

"I wish I hadn't been so defensive and emotional, but it invalidated important conversations that shouldn't be overlooked."

On some of the leaked tracks for Digital Distortion you didn't seem afraid to acknowledge it. Tracks like "Middle Man," "7Teen," and "Elephant" were incredibly aggressive and direct. What happened with that era?

For the record I love Def Jam, there are a lot of people that I truly respect and like. The problem I had during this time was that I was preparing to address how I felt. I had gotten so pop, and when you have success as a pop artist it makes the label a lot of money, so they pushed me to keep churning out hits. They pushed for more branding money, more endorsements — that's their job. And I made the conscious choice to go along with it because I was making a lot of fucking money.

But in doing that I think I isolated a lot of my original supporters. I also stifled myself creatively because I wasn't making the kind of music I wanted to make. If I wanted to make endless hits, I would have been making pop music from day one. I just lost my passion. I didn't feel motivated in the studio. When I told them I was going to make an album, I sat there with the president of the label and told him that his 10-year-old daughter is probably not going to like the songs. I said, "She's not gonna want to come to the concert," and I could see a look of pure horror etched on his face. The expression of, "Fuck, the money maker is going to make some weird, non-radio album."

They weren't backing you up.

There was no support in my decision. They couldn't understand it unless it fit into a radio format, but I knew I would never have success again unless I connected with my original fans. That's what I knew I needed for me to have authenticity and for me to feel passionate. Not only that but for me to just endure life. Everything was falling apart and I need to love the music I'm making and truly believe in it. When I delivered the album, they wanted to know where the radio hits were. All they wanted to create were songs like "Switch." And those songs are great, but pop records don't work without a foundation. Those big songs are supposed to be cherries on top, not just a roof with no house. Pop records are like Skittles, they taste really good but if you eat too many you'll feel sick. They're not a creative meal. Here I am at the darkest period of my life, contemplating suicide, and I'm singing "Switch."

Can you tell me a bit about this new era — Surviving The Summer?

Releasing "Savior" was incredibly therapeutic for me. It felt good to have a record where I can talk about depression, and just let down all my cards. It's completely different from a lot of the other tracks which are heavily rap.

Who are you collaborating with?

I'm working with Detail. I'm working with Pharrell. There's still going to be those unexpected Diplo elements like my early mixtapes. I'm really taking it back to that place. I started with Digital Distortion, but that was really aggressive and angry. I'm not in that place anymore. I'm happy. I know my fans want me to rap and I want to give them that. I want to give them the hard shit that they love, the shit that's different, that moves the needle. I hope people will support it.

From your rapping accent, to your pop accolades, you're constantly criticized for being inauthentic — specifically within the hip-hop realm. What do you think, ultimately, of those debates?

The way I've always felt about music is that I never approached anything as partial to a genre. There's never been a sense of this is a pop record, this a rap record. Even with the way music is today, there are so many melodies and variations to any song, any genre. I think a big part of the judgement in those things — not exclusively for me, but for most women in the music industry — is misogyny. Do you know how many men are on pop records? When they do it, it's rewarded and they're considered smart for reaching a bigger audience.

People like to pick and choose the rules. We bury things that don't give our theories sense. Everyone does it, it's human nature. I feel like with me, there's a lot of reasons why people are trying to invalidate me. Is it not authentic because I make pop music? Or is it because I'm from Australia? What about the fact that I've been here for 12 years? What about white rappers who are saying the most absurd things about hip-hop, but in the club everyone's singing their songs? Other rappers are allowed to do the things that I do — even things I would never even think of doing — but it's okay because they have likability, or a different perception attached to their image, or a fucking dick. People are misogynistic. It is what it is.

"Fuck what I was doing before, I'm doing new shit. It's exciting."

Do you feel like you're a new artist now?

Yes, 1000 percent! It's almost harder now because when you're new people have no preconceived notions about what you are or what you represent. When you become mega successful and you go mainstream, no longer is the sky the limit. It becomes, "Oh she's mainstream, she's had a Steve Madden deal, she's on Cosmo," and the art becomes dissected in a new way with more eyes. But I like it. Sonically, when I'm in the studio, it's fun approaching music as a new artist. Fuck what I was doing before, I'm doing new shit. It's exciting.

[airadam]

Episode 136 : Protection

"I'm a walking heart attack, looking for somebody to happen..."

- Boogieman

Still shut up in the house for the most part, which at least gives me a chance to really dig through my crates, vinyl and otherwise! This month's selection has some great recent records, some older underground favourites, and a mix segment I've been wanting to do for ages - figured this episode was as good a time as any!

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Mac Ayres : Shadows

If nothing else, this enforced time spent in the house has yielded some great musical discoveries. I heard this cut on a DJ Jazzy Jeff Twitch session, and bought it immediately as soon as I found out what it was! Mac Ayers is a singer/songwriter/instrumentalist from Long Island, and if he's already turning out material like this in his early 20s, I can only imagine what it'll be with more experience. This is a highlight on last year's "Juicebox" album, and one that those who enjoy the modern soul sound will almost certainly enjoy!

[DJ Premier] Prhyme : My Calling (Instrumental)

This beat from "Prhyme 2" is so, so good. DJ Premier continues to turn out fresh creations over thirty years since his debut, with more different styles than he's often given credit for. The pianos sound like falling rain, the low end is the solid ground, and everything else fits perfectly around them.

Ski Beatz & Stalley : Gentlemen's Quarterly

Smooth from the lyrics to Ski Beatz' sophisticated production, this is a cut I'd managed to forget about until I rediscovered it in my collection recently. Find it on the "Ski Beatz 24 Hour Karate School Presents Twilight" (snappy!) LP, if you can find a reasonably-priced copy!

LL Cool J ft. Keith Murray, Prodigy, Fat Joe, and Foxy Brown : I Shot Ya (Remix)

A classic from the mid-90s. LL brought in some of the hottest MCs of the time alongside a young Foxy Brown making her on-record debut for a Trackmasters-produced street banger. The "Mr. Smith" album is the source for this often-sampled gem.

O.C. & Organized Konfusion : You Won't Go Far

Unapologetic boom-bap from this all-NYC combination, taken from the second volume of the "New Jersey Drive" soundtrack. Of all the tracks on that release, it's the one that hews closest to the plot of the film itself, which itself makes it a standout in the world of 90s Hip-Hop/R&B soundtracks! OK self-produced this one, and rather than give each MC a verse each, they split each verse between the three of them for more of a tag-team feel.

Rise : Make Sure That We Win

Note: I got this wrong on the voiceover - this is a Beatminerz beat, not DJ Spinna. Spinna produced the excellent "Part of the Game" on the same EP.

Rise is an MC out of Brooklyn and the Demigodz crew, who has a knack for punchlines and quotables within a laid back style - he just seems puzzled by wack MCs most of the time! The Beatminerz provide the beat with the fuzzbox guitars moving all over the soundscape and the classic boom-bap drum style and some sub bass to give it the heft. DJ Evil Dee of Da Beatminerz rounds things out with his cuts for the hook. Grab this and a couple of other great tracks on the 2003 "The Intro..." EP.

Pete Rock : Air Smoove

"Petestrumentals 2" may not become the low-key icon that the first instalment did, but don't sleep on it - it's still Pete Rock on the beats, after all.  I keep going back to it and finding myself enjoying tracks more and more, with this being a prime example.

Above The Law ft. 2Pac and Money B : Call It What U Want

I once nearly got into a fight (the other guy was heated) when I off-handedly mentioned that I remembered when 2Pac had been a dancer for Digital Underground - but it was true, and there was never any shame in it! Anyway, it was also with that crew that he made initial strides onto the mic, and after going solo himself, this was one of his first features, alongside Money B from DU. Above The Law's "Black Mafia Life", from which this is taken, is one of the most overlooked albums that could claim the accolade of "classic" when you listen to how it sounded and how early it was made - I strongly recommend that every listener seeks it out for an end-to-end hearing. It's striking to realise that of the four MCs on this cut, only two are still with us today - RIP 2Pac and KMG.

DJ Quik ft. Pharoahe Monch & K.K. : Murda 1 Case

An absolute stomper from Compton's finest, leading with the piano, keeping the drums hard but simple (kicks on 1 and 3 only, snares on 2 and 4), and three MCs going at it. On this clear standout on 2002's "Under Tha Influence", the underrated Quik holds his own against one of the best to pick up a mic, and shows the confidence and intelligence as a producer to know that this was the man to bring in for the closing verse.

De La Soul : Verbal Clap

Many years after their debut, De La remind you that they can get busy on a state-of-the-art thumping beat with no problem - in this case, a masterful creation by J Dilla, one of two on 2004's "The Grind Date". Dave's rhyme style here is extra raw and he dominates by sheer brute force, standing out even on an album where De La sound highly-motivated overall. If you don't yet know it, it's well worth your while to search it out and have a proper listen.

Mr. Scruff ft. Broke 'n' English : Listen Up

Manchester all the way on this track, with the DJ and producer Mr Scruff getting the drumline mad active with a nice bassline, and Strategy and DRS of Broke 'n' English bringing all the local flavour on the mic. This great cut is on the flip of the also-excellent "Nice Up The Function" 12", which is now available digitally - so no difficulty in finding a copy!

[The Neptunes] Busta Rhymes : Pass The Courvoisier, Part II (Instrumental)

A great party beat, one to get people moving even without Busta and Pharrell's vocals!

AZ : Take Care Of Me

From his very first LP, AZ was flowing over soul/R&B samples, so it wasn't a reach for him to make a track like this for "Aziatic", his fourth. Precision soundtracks it with a "no samples" approach which for the non-Bad Boy producers tended to be the move for the club/radio tracks, and it's aged fairly well. AZ's lyrics are definitely reflective of the time - cellphones are so unremarkable in 2020!

Krumb Snatcha ft. Boogieman : Oxygen

Krumb Snatcha is pretty much as rugged as it gets, but here he shows that while he can give you an underground street classic like "Closer To God", there's still time to have fun! This track from his second LP "Respect All, Fear None" isn't what you might expect from KS but I think he did a solid job here. Nottz' beat bumps and burbles with a solid low end, and the guest MC Boogieman, who's already collaborated with him previously, steals the show with a casually disrespectful closing verse - not a particularly technical one, but entertaining!

Mic Geronimo : Nothin' Move But The Money

This record was hated when it came out, of all the tracks in this section, it was the most blatant pander to the pop audience - after all, Puffy (now Diddy) was the producer! This was amplified by the fact that Queens' own Mic Geronimo was a darling of the underground scene after his excellent debut LP "The Natural", and this is a million miles away stylistically. "Vendetta" was a big change, and arguably a bit of a career killer because of it. Have a look at the video - every so often, Mic actually looks pretty uncomfortable! 

Goodie Mob ft. Big Boi and Backbone : Get Rich To This

This was the next most derided track when it was released - if someone else had recorded it, it may have been received for what it was, but again, this was a serious sonic whiplash for anyone who had heard "Soul Food" or "Still Standing". It was still Organized Noize on production, still the same MCs (plus guests), but definitely not what people were expecting, by and large. I can't front though - I kind of liked it even then! The "World Party" LP is the source for this one.

[Kenny Dope] L Swift : Ride This (Instrumental)

Crispy clean drums and a nice guitar line are the highlights of this beat from a 2000 12" by one of the MCs from the incredible Natural Elements (now reformed, with L Swift as Swigga). The vocal version features A Butta from NE and the B-side is produced by Spinna, so well worth picking up if you see it!

Toots & The Maytals : Funky Kingston

We close the episode with the title track of the 1973 album by the reggae legend "Toots" Hibbert, who passed away this month at the age of 77, and his band. The throatiness of his delivery on this classic cut does bring to mind the American funk godfather James Brown, but the message and the groove is pure yard. It may be almost fifty years old now, but still moves a dancefloor with ease!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

[5hfanfiction]

Galaxies- Chapter 9 (Pain)

A/N

P.S I still don’t proof read.

Trees rustled in the dark. The faint sound of crickets could still be heard over the loud panting. Her heart beat had begun to thump louder and faster in her chest as she continued to approach the abandoned house. She could hear each step against the wet grass. She continued, switching her knife with a shotgun, preparing to aim as she opened the door, a loud clutter erupted. She was shaking, and before she could turn right, she felt a hand placed on her shoulder. A loud scream escaped her lips, as she jumped off the couch, dropping the controller. Realizing who the intruder was, it took a few seconds for her heart rate to slow down, holding a hand on her chest. She removed the earpiece, turning to her girlfriend who was standing behind the couch. “Babe, you scared the living shit outta me,” Lauren confronted, still panting.

“I’m sorry,” Camila apologized softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I tried calling your name earlier, but you were just so lost in the game.”

“It’s okay,” Lauren said, pulling Camila in a hug and kissing her on the forehead, “you should’ve told me you’d come over,”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Camila confessed, “Can we open up the blinds? It’s too dark in here.”

Lauren grabbed the remote from the couch and pressed a button that immediately illuminated the whole room. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the light, but as soon as she saw her own reflection in her bedroom mirror, her stomach lurched—the dark crescents under her eyes, the once glowing porcelain skin had faded and turned pale, and the green bright eyes that radiated love and comfort had turned dull, cold as the dead of winter— she could also see her girlfriend looking at her reflection, the look of guilt evident on those brown eyes.

“Babe…” Camila mumbled with a hint of concern in her voice, looking at her through the mirror’s reflection, “Have you been sleeping?”

“Uhhh, I think so, I’ve been trying to finish this game and I keep losing track of time,” Lauren answered, tossing the remote back to the couch.

Camila sighed, giving a nod in response. Camila took a seat on the couch and slowly reached for Lauren’s hand, pulling the green-eyed girl with her. “Have you eaten yet?” Camila asked, intertwining their fingers.

“Yeah,” Lauren responded, kissing the back of Camila’s hand as a reflex. Her eyes slowly wondered her room, seeing all the wrappers scattered on the floor, the ruffled blanket she had been using, and the only thing that was sanitary to look at was her bed, which she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in it. Her eyes finally landed on the tray of food on top of her coffee table, “Did my mom ask you to feed me?”

Camila nodded, “She told me you haven’t eaten anything real in a week,” Camila confronted, standing up and fetching the tray from the coffee table. The savory smell of tomato and cheese made Lauren’s heart contract with remembered grief— her dad’s laughter echoing throughout the dining room, his stories about his patients and the way he would ask and listen to his children about their day— pasta night had always been her favorite night, it was when her whole family was present, and in that moment, she knew, her family would never be complete again. “Babe, you’ll get sick if you keep this up…”

Lauren didn’t answer, she was lost in deep thought.

Camila stared at her girlfriend, taking in every detail of her instilled sadness, and more so, pain. From her dull eyes to her disheveled hair, to her clothes stained with dusts from the junk food she had eaten, obvious from the empty packs thrown in the floor. It hurt, to see her hurt. Lauren didn’t have to say it, but Camila knew. Lauren had always emanated positive energy, her pearly white smile was contagious, gleaming even the vast blackness of all moods. But seeing Lauren vulnerable made her more real, it made her seem human, susceptible to darkness caused by reality. All Camila could do then was to wish she could take away even half of her girlfriend’s pain. But deep inside her she knew, it wouldn’t be possible. “Babe…” Camila called the green-eyed girl’s attention, nudging her hand.

“It hurts,” Lauren whispered softly.

“Huh?” Camila asked, with her brows furrowed.

“Nothing, go ahead and eat. I’m not hungry,” Lauren said, standing up picking up her controller, switching the mode to Netflix not even bothering to save her game. “Do you want to watch anything?”

“Can we watch Mulan?” Camila asked, consuming a spoonful of lasagna.

“Yeah, sure,”

The voice of Shang singing while tossing two Jars with a stick played on the TV, Lauren wasn’t really paying attention, it was the first time she hadn’t sang along. She felt Camila’s head shifted on her lap, then she feelt both her girlfriend’s hand on the nape of her neck.

“Kiss me,” Camila whispered. But Lauren couldn’t, she wanted to, but she couldn’t move. She just stared at her girlfriend with her piercing green eyes. It hurt. She couldn’t breathe, and without a single second wasted, she felt her girlfriend pull her closer, and for a few seconds their lips gently touched. Camila broke the kiss and whispered “this is the only medicine I know, the only medicine I can give you. I wish I could take even half of your pain away and claim it us my own. But I know I can’t. So all I can do now, is hope, that in the smallest possible way, I can kiss the pain away. (This rhymed, lol.)

—-

Lauren watched as Camila took her final bow, earning applause from the students. Lauren knew Camila was always good at talking in front of an audience, being the president of both their high school’s student council and debate team. Camila was trained to be a leader, well her parents made sure she was. But Lauren knew it was never what her ex-fiance wanted to do, not as much as Camila enjoyed studying organisms. She was familiar with her ex fiance’s fascination with life, it’s structures and origins, studying the tiniest bits of organism there is, even Lauren had developed a bit of a liking to it —because of how Camila would explain things to her— but there was only one living creature that had fascinated Lauren the most, enthralled her to the outmost of her being, the best human masterpiece she had seen all her life, and her knees felt week at the sight of the familiar brown eyes, piercing through her core. Everything around her disappeared. It was stronger than what she felt for the girl who she had met a week ago.

"Lauren, what are you doing here? I thought you were sick?” A loud voice had pulled her back from her haze, seeing a familiar blonde standing in front of her, blocking the view she had enjoyed.

“I was, uhhh,” Lauren stammered, having been caught off-guard. She hasn’t had any time to think of an excuse, because she never knew she needed one. It’s not like she couldn’t tell the tall blonde that she was there to confront her ex-fiance.

“Dinah!” the familiar husky voice erupted, and it was the first time in a week she felt relieved to hear that voice, “Ready to take the stage? And Ms. Jauregui, what are you doing here, I thought you weren’t feeling well?”

Lauren placed both her hands on each side of her back-jean pocket, trying her best to keep it together. “I uh, Tylenol you’ve gave me must have worked,” she answered. It wasn’t a lie, Camila had two pieces of Tylenol and a glass of water beside the note she left, “And I, uh, just wanted to ask if you guys have seen Leslie? She hasn’t been answering to my messages. I need to know what time would we set off to Milan.”

“Well, I haven’t seen her since this morning, I think she had mentioned something about leaving tonight at ten,” Camila answered.

“Since you’re already here, and I bet you don’t have any plans on talking to these students on that outfit,” Dinah said, gesturing at Lauren’s clothes, “Why don’t you join us this afternoon? Let’s enjoy our last day here in the city.”

“As much as I want to, I still need to pack,” Lauren said, stealing a glance at Camila who was staring at the pavement.

“We won’t take long, and you owe me one. This is already my second talk for the today.”

“I don’t want to impose,”

“Don’t be silly!’ Dinah exclaimed, turning to Camila, "Help me out with your roommate here,”

Lauren watched as Camila bit her lower lip, but as soon as the brown eyed girl caught her staring, she averted her eyes to the pavement, “Don’t force her Dinah, maybe she has plans.”

“Do you have plans?”

“No, I don’t,” Lauren answered.

“So it’s settled then! You are coming with us,” Dinah clasped her hands together smiling widely as if she had just forced a child to eat every piece of vegetable in her plate.

-

The weather was subtle; the sun didn’t radiate too much heat, making it perfect to walk around the streets of Paris. It was the fourth day she had explored the bewildering city, and most of the places they’ve gone to were places she hadn’t been able to explore yet. However, instead of appreciating the beautiful landscapes and arts, she had found herself stealing glances at the forbidden fruit. She was slowly becoming an Adam, being pulled to something prohibited, someone she knew she shouldn’t be attracted to. But the snake’s call was too strong; she couldn’t help but be pulled into its charm. It was like Pride and Prejudice.

Another person in their charity tour had joined them in their adventure — Greg, and from what Lauren heard, he was some hot shot business man who is up for a CEO position at a Marketing Company— all Lauren could think about then, is how she hated Greg’s guts. She watched how Camila would smile at the blue-eyed man, making her stomach lurch every time. She watched as the two conversed, exchanging laughter and subtle touches. She couldn’t seem to hear the actual conversation because Dinah and her would always walk a few feet behind them, but watching the animated interaction unfold in front of her, made it hard for her to keep a smile on her face.

“Did you get the closure you wanted?” Dinah asked Lauren, sipping from the juice she bought from a street vendor. The streets weren’t as busy as it was when the two of them had gone on an adventure two days before. Both of them stood side by side outside a souvenir shop where food and drinks were prohibited.

“I think I did, but I’m not sure yet,” Lauren answered, watching Camila and Greg’s interaction from outside the store’s window.

“Remember when I told you that people usually can’t let go of something without really having the closure or answers they wanted?”

“Yeah? Why?” she asked, meeting Dinah’s gaze.

“Well, when a particular situation arises, like if there is no possibility to get closure, at all…” Dinah paused, taking another sip of her juice. Lauren had again found herself looking at her ex fiancé, watching as she grazed the man’s arm, “We usually turn to ourselves, ask ourselves what we did wrong, and most often than not, blame ourselves or the other party. That is when hate is created, and that’s when the healing stops”.

Lauren watched as Camila shook her head, while the man tried to bring out a card from his wallet, “So how does someone recover from that?”

“It’s simple, really. Acceptance,” Dinah answered and Lauren saw that smile, the smile that she hadn’t seen in a long time, and it hurt. The pain was so strong, it was in her throat, building up faster making it hard to breathe. And there was no medicine, no soft touch, no eyes that would look through her soul, and no kiss that would take her pain away, “The real kind. A kind we hear often but fail to do, because we are afraid. Afraid to accept the things we cannot change.”

A/N

Sorry this was short and maybe not worth the wait but I deleted like 1000 words from this chapter, and added it to the next one, figured it would be better this way.

I just want to share a part of me through this contemporary piece I wrote. Thanks for reading! And I’m now begging for constructive criticism.

“I swore I would never write again. But for you, I did. Word after word crafted by a pen I never knew still existed. Words I dug out from the grave I buried when she told me she slept with someone else. Words. I was once good at, sentiments I said I’d never feel every time she left me, and I begged for her to stay. I begged, I did, but I caught her lead on guy after guy. But I still begged, and it hurt. But I needed her, because with her I felt again, but before then, I vowed that I wouldn’t. I vowed, that night I cried for her, again. She craved for my tears and words I used to woo her like a night pill she needed to fall asleep. See, I swore, and vowed with my cheeks tainted. But for you I wrote again, but again, I vow I would never write again.”

Maybe I’ll write more here: unsaidfrustrations.tumblr.com

[daigina-3]

Juliet and His Romeo

His only break of the day and Isak couldn’t believe he was stuck here. If it weren’t for fucking Sana holding Madhi’s weed over his head, or his stupid ass, shoving it down the first candy jar he spotted in Eva’s house- or even fucking Vilde for thinking it would be a good idea to start a revue group, Isak could be chillin’ in the cafeteria or the courtyard with his bros.

But instead he was here, in Nissen’s theater. Adjusting fake, plastic leaves that made up fake, plastic vines wrapping around the base of a fake tower made of plaster and wood.  

No wonder Sana had to blackmail people to join. Vilde was a nightmare as a director.

They met weeks before the other performances were even decided. As soon as Isak had shown up to the first revue meeting three weeks ago, Vilde had handed him a script and explained that they were doing Romeo and Juliet. She said they were doing it because it was a classic love story. Isak thinks it’s because they already had the balcony and costumes in the props room. But whatever.

The first week was auditions and stage hand sign ups. Vilde had almost bullied him into being Mercutio, because “you’d be perfect for it Isak,” but thank God he had wriggled his way out of that one and took a spot on the stage crew at the last second, meaning he didn’t have to attend the following two weeks of torture- stage hands weren’t needed for read-throughs.

That also meant that Sana withheld the weed from him even longer, claiming that he wouldn’t get it back until she knew he would take his job seriously.

The things he did for his friends.

So it was week three and Vilde wanted the tower decorated already, and Sana decided taking his job seriously meant forfeiting his social life to get it done before the next rehearsal.

Isak sighed, looking at the rough sketch Sana gave him, realizing he’d have to climb up the back of the tower and stand on the balcony to actually place the vines and flowers up there. So, he gathered the power stapler, the rest of the foliage, and the picture and headed up the questionably constructed wooden steps from behind the tower.

He got to it, placing and adjusting and stapling the vines and flowers just like the picture. Part of the way through, just when Isak thought he might jump off in boredom, he popped one earbud in and turned on his favorite playlist.

He was halfway through his favorite N.W.A song, rapping along, moving a bit more freely the more he got into it. He picked up a stray hydrangea and used it as a faux mic, bobbing his head and rapping,

“I’m in control of your mind and soul Don’t be afraid, just bust the moves,”

He stapled the hydrangea in place and a few strings of vines, draping them just so, even daring to move his feet and hips to the beat as he worked.

“So out your home, you’re on your own in the land of the unknown”

He was full-on bobbing at this point, his shoulders and his whole body moving in time as he laid down the rhymes along with the vines.

“It’s the dark side, the dirty-side It’s called-”

“Halla?” A voice rang out from below him and Isak jumped, dropping the flower in his hand, ripping the earbud out in the process.

“Shit,” he swore. That fucking hurt. He looked down to see who had caught him and how much he’d have to pay for their silence and- oh. Oh no.

It’s called the Panic Zone.

And shit, was Isak panicking- because bellow him stood Even, who picked up the flower Isak dropped, who was the lead in Vilde’s stupid play, who had just caught him rapping and dancing and maybe even singing into that flower… God, how long had he been there? Isak felt his stomach go tight in embarrassment and his face heat up.

“Halla,” Even said again, smiling from the base of the balcony, where he stood.

“Uh, hey,” Isak answered, not really sure what to do. “Just, um, setting up stuff.” He picked up another vine and placed it down, very much not looking in Even’s direction, trying to look unaffected.

“I can see that,” and Isak could hear the smile in his voice. Fuck, the last thing he needed was for Even, the cool, hot guy who was the leading man for fucks sake to be making fun of him right now. Or tell anyone what he saw later. Isak was really re-thinking that whole jumping off the tower thing right now. Maybe Sana would pity him and just give the weed back if he broke his limbs helping Vilde out, who knew?

“Do you mind if I practice in here? I came to run lines for tonight’s practice,” Even called up. Isak snuck a glance at him, only to find Even staring intensely, too intensely, his hands tucked in his back pockets and his blue eyes all but drilling into Isak.

Or maybe that was his imagination.

When Isak met his gaze, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Uh, yeah, whatever, dude. That’s cool.”

“Cool.” Even shrugged off his backpack and dug around for a bit, produced his script, then began pacing.

Isak went back to work as Even’s deep voice rang through the theater.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east and Juliet is the sun!”

And oh, he was rehearsing those lines. And Isak wouldn’t care normally, but as Even continued Isak couldn’t help but think back to the first day of rehearsal, the auditions where he had first seen Even up close, had watched Even run this exact monologue. He had been so moved by Even’s quiet passion, apparent even through the archaic language, that he hadn’t taken his eyes off him the rest of practice.

And when he overheard Even mentioning to Eva that Baz Lurhmann’s Romeo + Juliet was his favorite adaption of the tragic love story, he may or may not have immediately downloaded it when he got home.

(and he may or may not have definitely cried a little.)

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”

Isak was only keeping up an appearance of working at this point, stapler and vines in hand, but he was pretty sure he had stapled the same place four times so far. He just had such a good vantage point- he had never seen Even so up close before, only daring to sneak glances from across the room, looking away every time he got caught staring. And he must have had really shit timing because Even seemed to always catch him staring. Now he had a front row seat.

And Even was so expressive- his whole face was thrown into the performance, his eyebrows drawn in and a small smile on his face. And usually Isak thought this whole poetry and verse stuff sounded so fake and corny but Even’s words sounded so sincere- low and passionate, adoring and a little playful- like Juliet was really there, like Even was really trying too woo this girl.

“Be not her maid since she is envious.                                                           

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,                                                          

And none but fools do wear it.”

Even looked up and met Isak’s eyes. Every other time Isak had been caught staring he’d looked away, foudn any excuse to leave or try and pretend nothing had happened. But this time he held his gaze, looking down at Even.

Even was still rehearsing, as in it as ever, but something was a little different about his face, his demeanor as he looked up at Isak now. Something changed- a mischevious look, maybe, as he raised his eyebrows and quirked his lips, almost deviously.  

“Cast it off!”

And then Even was moving, he was propelling himself forward and before Isak could really register it- Even was finding footholds in the plaster bricks, sticking out from the tower and was he trying to climb up here?

“It is my lady, it is my love!”                                                                                  

He looked at Isak, who was speechless as he watched Even go, grasping at the flimsy plaster bricks that were jutting out from the tower and heave himself up. Isak told himself he was imagining the look on his face, the adoration, determination, the glee- but the hopefull little voice in the back of his head said this is for you. But that would be ridiculous- wouldn’t it?

”Oh, that she knew she were.”

Even broke eye contact only to search for more purchase on the tower.

Isak didn’t know what to do- what the fuck was happening?

“E-Even, what the hell?” He dropped the stapler and vines he had been holding and they fell at his feet with a thud. “Dude, you’re- you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Even only smiled more in answer, fond and warm, like he was in on a joke Isak just didn’t get. He went on, his voice straining with the effort of lifting his own weight as he spoke.

“She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?                                        

Her eye discourses. I will answer it.—”

Isak moved back as Even’s hand reached for the edge of the balcony, and he hoisted himself up so he was supported by his arms, the tips of his toes pressed into the tower to provide stability. He was only slightly out of breath as he said,

“I am too bold.”

And man, was he close. Isak had backed up, but now they were only a foot or two apart, and Even was still looking at him like that, unwavering in his… Whatever it was. Isak could feel the heat in his cheeks, probably bright pink by this point.

“’Tis not to me she speaks                                                                                   

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,                                                 

 Having some business, do entreat her eyes                                                   

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.”

Maybe Even was making fun of him? Maybe he had been caught staring one too many times or maybe Even just took a sick kind of pleasure in fucking with Isak, seeing him flustered.

And man was it working. Isak’s heart was hammering in his chest. He thought he might stop breathing right then and there as Even pulled his whole body up, clambering over the railing and onto the small balcony floor, even closer to Isak now and inching even more so.

“What if her eyes were there, they in her head?                                            

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars “

His voice was soft and impossibly intimate.

Isak was frozen this whole time, he couldn’t believe this was happening, was waiting to wake up or for Even to start laughing, to say oh, man, you should have seen your face! Waiting for some sign that this was a joke or a dream because there was no way Even was standing a breath away from him, looking into his eyes like a man possessed and reciting Shakespear to him.

Even raised his hand, slow and deliberate, maybe in case Isak would stop him- as if.

Even’s fingers brushed Isak’s cheek, so lightly, and Even was whispering now, low and breathy, his eyes still glued to Isak’s, searching, searching for something.

“Oh, that I might touch that cheek.”

And Isak almost didn’t feel real as he said, “I…uh,” he swallowed, licked his lips, and Even raised his eyebrows, looking so beautiful- God, and still so close…

“I think you skipped some lines,” Isak whispered- anything louder would break this moment, this magic in the atmosphere, and the last thing Isak wanted was for the warmth of Even’s hand, cupping Isak’s cheek, his thumb softly stroking the edge of his jaw, to disappear. Isak licked his lips again and he definitely didn’t miss Even’s eyes move down for a long second, following the movement before meeting Isak’s own again.

“I think,” he answered, still incredibly breathy and low and God so close, “You’re right. Maybe, uhm, you could help me practice?”

Isak didn’t answer him. “You could have hurt yourself. This thing is old, and not sturdy at all.” He tried to put some playful admonishment in the words, but it came out as more of a stunned whisper. Which was probably what Isak was right now, stunned.

Even smiled and Isak felt the air from his soft, breathy laughter his face. Even almost had him backed up against the frame of the balcony arch, and Isak felt the strange urge to put his hands on Even’s waist.

“Alack, there lies more peril in thine eyes,” Even breathed, “Isak…” he drew his name out like he loved saying, and, fuck, fuck, Isak loved hearing him say it.

“Even,” Isak returned when Even didn’t continue. He knew he was staring at his lips, try as he might to keep his eyes on Even’s.

“Could you help me with this one line- I can never remember how it goes,” He was still moving his thumb along Isak’s jaw.

What?

“Uh,” Isak swallowed, and he’s so close to Even, he doesn’t want to play this game anymore he just wants to kiss him, feel their lips meet like he’s thought about, dreamed about, so many times. But he just can’t risk ruining this, being lost in Even’s eyes, the warmth of his hand on his cheek

“Su- sure, yeah. What is it?”

“Act one, scene five,” Even said and his other hand came up and then he was cupping Isak’s face in his hands. “Romeo and Juliet are dancing- and Romeo says then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. What comes after?”

“I, I don’t know,” Isak answered and he doesn’t, but god he knew what he wanted to happen.

Even’s body moved to press into Isak’s just slightly, just enough, and his face becomes closer, too, so fucking close. Isak couldn’t stop thinking bout the distance, the lack of it.

“Ah, I remember now,” Even’s eyebrows drew down, as though he was thinking very hard, concentrating.

“What is it?” Isak asked, his voice barely there and God, how long have they been here, how long has this been happening? It feels like forever, like they’ve been in each other’s orbits for years and they’ll never break free enough to collide-

“They kiss,” Even said and suddenly it happened. His lips were on Isak’s, Isak’s lips were on his, and Isak’s arms were wrapped around Even’s shoulders, he pulled him close, so close, he was so warm, and Isak felt like he was going to float away.

They kissed more than that, pulling away to breathe and smile and kiss some more, and this, Isak thought, was the best kiss. Better than any he’s had, better than any he’s dreamed of, better than any kiss on any stage, in any script, ever.

“You should help me more often,” Even said an eternity later, when they’ve sunk down to sit on the wooden floor of the stupid fake balcony, the wonderful fake balcony.

“Yeah,” Isak nodded, smiling and smiling, running his fingers through Even’s hair, “Yeah, I could do that.”

[excxt]

On Changing Direction, or The Statement of Purpose That Did Not Get Me Accepted Into Grad School.

I learned to write from a janitor when I was eleven years old.

He was thirty-something with an eyebrow ring and he coached the junior high boys’ basketball team. He had bright blond hair that fell over his ears in waves and he was tall, so tall that you could see him above the heads of students and teachers as he pushed a mop bucket of sudsy water through the halls at the end of a school day. His name was Bob.

I had a best friend named Lindsay and by the time we were in the sixth grade at that small Catholic school where Bob worked, in a quiet lower-middle class neighborhood outside Buffalo, we had become restless. We took to making up stories and inventing exotic characters who lived in big cities and played in rock bands. We wrote about things we had no idea of; suicides, drug abuse, gay sex, anything that broke the mold of our daily morning prayers and afternoon bus rides. We walked around the neighborhood after school and told these stories out loud, turning around every so often to make sure that the invisible gaggle of our characters was still trailing along behind us. After a while we began to use the blank pages at the backs of our school notebooks to keep track of them all. Their names, ages, hair colors, relationships and hobbies, and a brief synopsis of the lives we’d given them:

“Sully, 25. Green eyes, long dark dreadlocks. Lost his baby daughter in a flood and now lives in a cabin at the top of a hill in the woods because he’s afraid of the rain.”

One day after school Lindsay and I were sitting in the empty cafeteria whispering and scheming over our notebooks when Bob came in with the pusher broom that looked like a giant cloth caterpillar. He stopped and leaned on the broomstick when he saw us there.

“Are you girls writing?” he asked.

“Sort of.”

That was all he needed to hear.

Besides being a janitor and a basketball coach, Bob was also a poet, a frequent contributor of work to national magazines and an active member of the local writing scene. When he caught us planning ways to torture and subsequently redeem our list of characters that day in the cafeteria, he was working on his first collection of poems, to be published later that year.

Bob immediately took us under his wing, giving us copies of his newest poems on sheets of computer paper. They were flowing rhythmic pulses of spoken art that I didn’t always understand but loved nonetheless. He gave us each a notebook, spiral bound with a rainbow colored peace sign on the thin cardboard cover, that was to be used for writing only; Bob told us that our stories should have a place of their own, not crammed into the back of a notebook filled with math problems or history definitions. But even those empty notebooks didn’t last long. All we did was write, during class or silent reading time, scribbling away at our desks, pausing to chew the end of a pen while our classmates either stared, glazed over, out the windows, or studied diligently and put their heads down when they were finished. During each lunch period Lindsay and I would trade off notebooks and see what each other’s characters had gotten up to. When each story was finished we would hand them off to Bob, who would quickly return them with pages of red-inked suggestions and praise.

“Explain this further- why such hostility between father and son?”

“Love the description of the summer house on the lake- you truly are a poet!”

He spoke of us to writer friends of his, sometimes sharing our stories after we gave him our flushed and flattered permission, and later that year, when he gave us our own copies of his collection of poems, we found our names included in the short list of acknowledgements:

“To Erin and Lindsay, my prolific proteges.”

We stayed in touch with Bob after moving on to high school, trading pages through the mail in stuffed manila envelopes. He edited and released two collections of poetry from writers from all over the city, including two pieces of mine in each. By the time the second volume came out I was in college in Boston, studying music and devoting all my time to playing, listening and songwriting. I began to study CD lyric sleeves as though they were books, digging through the rhymes and imagery to find stories. I began to keep a journal of essays chronicling my new life in a new city, keeping meticulous track of everything I saw and everyone I met. I felt the stories swirling around my head like autumn leaves caught in a cyclone wind and, after I’d practiced my scales and arpeggios, I hurried to my notebook to get the details down on paper.

A few months later I graduated and moved from Boston to Brooklyn to New Jersey and finally to Nashville. In those years I have been a hostess, a barista, and a recording engineer. I’ve worked in kitchens and grocery stores, in offices and malls. I’ve spent some overnights folding denim in the middle of Manhattan and others cleaning bathrooms in the largest recording studio in the country. I’ve had ten different zip codes in nine years. I have taken a lot of buses, a lot of trains, and a lot of notes. It is true that during much of this time I’ve felt aimless. I’ve felt like a failure and a wanderer. I have questioned, sometimes frantically, everything I had believed to be my strengths, everything I had thought I was meant to do.  But through it all, I have always kept writing. I’ve scribbled in notebooks on subways and texted paragraphs to myself walking down city streets, my fingers working feverishly while I tried to avoid hitting street lamps. I have gone home to one tiny apartment or another and pulled up new documents on the computer screen, written essays and stories about the ways in which I’d been moved, and somehow getting it out of my head through the movement of my hands has always encouraged me to keep going.

During the lowest part of my post-undergrad journey I was living in a mouse and horsefly infested apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. I was half-heartedly going to job interviews at music houses and studios and taking two connecting trains into Manhattan to work full time at Gap. I went home every night and made a plate of spaghetti and butter, sitting on my twin sized bed and thinking about all the people I had seen that day and the endless stories and supporting characters that each of their lives offered. I marvelled at the smallness of myself in the midst of them and, simultaneously, how essential I was. How essential each person was in an unfathomable web of relationships and of cause and effect. It was at this lowest point that I decided I had nothing left to lose. I gathered up the stories of the people that I’d known, some for decades, some only briefly, and began to write a novel.

That novel, Rooms of The House, is about a family in the modern American rust belt, its members dealing with mental illness, bankruptcy and foreclosure, and the acceptance of each other and themselves. It tells of daughter Margot’s journey from her hometown to new cities, from her childhood friends to the colorful cast of her early twenties, and how each place and each person plays a role in helping her realize that there are some things that cannot be changed.

I know that there are still more stories for me to tell, the imagined lives of the thousands of strangers’ faces I have passed along my way: The woman who asked for a sample of decaf at my coffee shop just to have an excuse to talk to someone for a while. A landlord in Boston who I once walked in on as she cried on the phone in German. That man with the scar on the subway. That pair of kids in the street. And after taking miles of winding and crooked paths, I see my own story laid out straight in front of me. After years of wandering, I have finally allowed myself to hear what  Bob the janitor told that eleven-year-old girl. I remember once when he handed back one of the notebooks I gave him to be filled with his remarks and suggestions I saw that he had written something in bold red letters on the blank inside cover, a testimony I am finally ready to take heed of: “YOU ARE A WRITER.”

[invisible-inkq]

✍

The books on his table had been replaced, though when they had been swapped out was anyone’s guess. Three more were left in their stead. The first was a collection of quel’dorei children’s rhymes, rudimentary but instructional. The second was another collection of herbs - this one far more recent, detailing the plant life of Pandaria with suitably colorful illustrations for each, written with the singsong prose of Pandaren teachers. The third was unmarked, deep violet in hue, the illustrations inside highly detailed and utterly captivating, although the language was completely illegible. Each page included a throwaway sheaf of paper beside it with the translation, written in careful, easily legible and perfectly nondescript hand. Inside the third was also tucked a letter.

“Faldrias,

I’m glad you enjoyed the books, and hope you will enjoy these as well. Don’t worry about the garden, I’ve got it well in hand - although you’d be surprised at how many weeds managed to pop up in the short time you’ve been away from it. They’re gone now, and I’ve added a mulch that should discourage any more from sprouting, for a short time anyway.

The three books I’ve included should be interesting enough to you. Apparently the Pandaren don’t have a wealth of written fables for their little ones. I suppose the Lorewalkers do their duty mostly by speaking. Pandaren children don’t strike me as the kind willing to sit and read for long hours.

Pardon the condition of the third book. I’ve worked on the translation, and I’ve been told it’s accurate enough, although some of the meaning is, as always, lost in translation. But it’s also a collection meant for younger eyes, so I thought you might like to read it. I find it interesting how far our individual societies have deviated - the kaldorei focus on tales of nature and wild gods, the sin’dorei are, as always, entirely too focused on the Sunwell, and our new neighbors to the north…well, they certainly teach their children some interesting lessons.

Enjoy.

I.

P.S. I hope you don’t mind the visitor on the sill. Don’t tell the doctor, lest she confiscate it. I assure you there are no insects, plagues, or other nastiness lingering in its petals.”

On the sill was the smallest of plants, carefully caught in the smallest of pots - but the little thing was in full bloom, the petals shining almost like starlight.

The third book, if closer inspected, was clearly from Suramar. All the stories were less instructional, and far more along the lines of cautionary, warning the reader of imminent peril should they not grow up to the best of expectations. In the inside cover, a poem, simple enough, and easily translated, followed immediately by a collection of fairy tales of sorts.

‘ware what lies beyond the wall,

Woe to those beyond its stead,

Whither withered linger, lost in thrall,

Starved silent thought twists within head,

For longing captured soul in vain,

That which only well will heal,

Oh ‘ware what lies beyond the wall,

Lingering life lost to those t’would steal.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Rose, forthe blooms that shone like starlight out her mother’s window when she wasborn. Rose was a very clever girl, and learned far faster than any other in herclasses. Yet for all her cleverness, Rose was also cursed with a curious naturethat wouldn’t be sated.

“Mother,” said Rose one day, peering high above the trees ofthe city, “Why do all the stories talk about the sun, when there is none?”

“Because the wall shields us from it,” her mother replied, closingthe curtains with a flourish. “And who knows? There may be no sun left at all,beyond the wall.”

“Mother,” said Rose another day, as she viewed the grand collectionsof animals in the Menagerie, “Where did the tigers come from?”

“From beyond the wall,” her mother replied, and handed her atreat from the vendor. “And it’s kept them safe from harm, just as it’s kept ussafe as well.”

“Mother,” said Rose on yet another day, watching the cityguards as they passed by below, “Why are there so many guards in the city, ifthe wall keeps us safe?”

“Because there are some who ask too many questions,” hermother replied, ruffling her hair. “Like you, and perhaps you should bethinking about your dinner, instead.”

But Rose would not stop asking questions – of her friends,of her parents, and even in her classes. Her teachers were patient at first, answeringthem all in turn, but she would not relent. One day, Rose came of age and cameinto her magic. Her parents were very pleased, and she even received a letterfrom the Grand Magistrix herself.

“Dearest Rose,” the letter stated, “It is with greatpleasure that I welcome you into a world which you’ve barely begun tounderstand. The arcane arts are a delight and a treasure, the very thing thatkeeps our people safest from harm. Pay close attention to your studies, learnall you can, and perhaps one day you too will be a Magistrix.”

Rose very much liked the letter, and thought she would likebeing a Magistrix one day, too. And so she studied, and so she learned, butboth pride and curiosity worked against her. She focused her studies on thewall – what made it work, how it came to be. And with every lesson she learned,she asked more and more questions. Why, she said, should there still be a wall?Surely after thousands of years, the rest of the world was safe. Surely therecould be nothing bad beyond it. Surely her people could venture beyond itsborders. Surely there were wonders like tigers, and the sun, that lay justbeyond.

Surely, she questioned, nay, argued – surely there were thosewho wished to see it.

Eventually her questions reached the ears of the GrandMagistrix, who heard them all and sadly shook her head. “We do not leave thewall,” she replied to each in turn.

“But why?” Rose insisted. The question was dismissed, andRose was left with her curiosity intact.

That night, she did the unthinkable. She packed her belongingsand snuck out of the city, leaving only a note for her parents. She stole pastall the guards of the city; ignoring every warning she’d ever been given. Andshe crossed the borders of the wall, foolishly leaving the safety of her home,all for idle curiosity.

There were no tigers on the other side, only barrenwasteland – the lessons were right, it seemed. But Rose did not go back intothe city. She stayed out, wanting to see the mysterious thing called the sunfor herself. It broke over the mountains to the north, and she gazed upward asit passed the hills, shining brighter and brighter. Her curiosity wouldnot let her look away, and thus she was struck blind as it cleared the tallestpeak.

Foolish Rose could no longer see. She could no longer findher way back to the wall. And as she wandered blindly through the wasteland,she realized the price of curiosity, and despaired. Left with nothing but themaddening curse of her curiosity, Rose quickly withered away, gasping her lastquestions to no one at all.

Some say if you pass beyond the wall, you’ll hear her still.But those cursed with the curiousness to go looking have never returned. Andthus the only lesson the starlight Rose left behind her was this: Do not question what keepsyou safe, for safety is a blessing enough on its own.

[shadzennjakereak]

Thoughts of a vulnerable man and well, it’s my life story. Kinda

~~So to lead this off, this was a mostly comprised as a message I would send to my closest friend. But well, for archival purposes I wanted to leave this here on my dead af Tumblr account because, well that is what I use it for afterwards. So if some things read somewhat oddly, it is probably due to it being written as a letter in sorts for someone.~~

------ Well... hm.... I'll hit on the major things kinda like I have when I have done therapy in the past. So uh... when shad was a young boy, roughly around 10, I was at a mom's side family Christmas party and me and my female cousin of the same age, Erin, was playing around. Another cousin of mine, whos name I forget, was roughly 15 years old brought us to the basement and pretty much tried to make us fuck. So yes, I was partially molested as a child, LUCKILY my young brain kinda knew this was not normal and grabbed my brother, while im fully naked, and well he got involved and stopped it. However the entire family outside of the immediate, sided with my older cousin and well my family got cut out of my mother's side. As for Father's side, well they are all in Maryland so I have never met them.

Now fast forward a few years, im a shy kid whatever nothing much happens. We get into Highschool where I have my friend group and this one girl I'm hard crushing on who so happens to be my closest friend. Her name was Micky, very weird girl, always cosplaying and well... Everyone assumed we were dating because well even at school we were always like cuddling and shit, HOWEVER we never did. She pretty much had a sugar daddy the entire time and the one time I knew in Senior year that she was single, I asked her out and well, was rejected and pretty from there we stopped interacting. So I not only lost my closest friend, but also well felt the pain of rejection of the one who I was in love with.

Now suddenly in highschool I'm desperate to get laid after getting rejected and well, turn to craigslist, find a milf who takes my virginity, cool. While that was very vanilla it was a fun learning experience. I did know my baseline kinks at this point. I kinda immediatly learned all that early into my life. Highschool was easy going more or less. I had great grades without trying much and looked decent, despite only having a singular relationship, back in 8th grade, at this point so I kinda never had that confidence in me. Hm... well highschool passes and I reject a couple small scholarships for wrestling because I'm an idiot. I enroll into Eastern Michigan University.

This would be my first time away from home pretty much ever and adulting for myself. It went terribly. This is what broke me and has been the root of my mental issues. I went to some classes, did fine, but this mother fucking Friday 2-d art class was from 8am - 6pm. I was going for a computer graphics animation degree which I absolutely love to this day, but well I despise drawing and that was all this class was. I hated it so much and couldn't even wake up for it that I stopped going. I got scared of how my parents would react and hid this information until the very end of the semester where they found out. I failed that class and another due to attendance (despite having an A in the class itself).

I agreed with my parents to retake those two courses. I did, but immediatly into I fell back into the slump. I was alone again, only person close to me was Dra, my roommate. My friends from highschool never contacted me, and I ignored family. I was utterly alone so I decided to attempt to take my life. Due to a miracle Dra was there and prevented this. So I lived. However as the year went on I grew scared and frightful of going home, so I ran. I decided to work at Cedar Point which is in Ohio and has on-boarding rooms. So I went there without telling my parents why.

Eventually my father would gank me at Cedar Point and I told him everything that happened. He was just disapointed, but happy to at least talk to me again for the first time in honestly 1.5years. While I was working there I made close friends, as Dra also worked here and I met others. I at least started to feel some happiness again since leaving highschool. I had one relationship with  a girl while working there. It kinda ended due to her not accepting my kinks when I told her. I also had another girl who was interested in me, but she refused to date me because she didn't want to do Long Distance once we stopped working at Cedar Point for the season. Well, Cedar Point closed at the end of October for the 2016 season. I had to go back home.

I go back home with my family and just bum there. I am not looking for a job or looking to go back to class. I was only playing games, eating, and sleeping. Eventually my father got sick of my shit and got me a temp job at his workplace at the end of December of that year. I worked there for a month helping reorganize files for the Human Resources department to help them with their acquistion of another company. At the end of January 2017, they offered me a full-time job as a Human Resources Intern. I had no interest... but my father convinced me to take the job as a way to get paid schooling down the line. So I accepted.

Throughtout the year I do what I can, but my emotional state is all sorts of fucked. I am working a 8-5 job that is an hour away. I am not a morning person as you know. I wake up around 6am every day for this job and well, my body cant handle it. I got into a major car accident on my way home from work one day. I luckily had no injuries nor the person I hit, but my car got totalled. I continue working. I do what I can, but one of the woman I worked under hated my work. She was always critiquing me, giving me bs tasks to do, and just never really letting me feel like I do decent work, and never teaching me anything. I had no prior experience or education for this job for christs' sake! She wares down on my mental regularly.

It wasn't much better at home. My mother constantly is yelling at me to lose weight, that I look like shit, I need to take care of myself, I need to go back to school. She never complimented me. So my own Mother and this woman at work were 2 devils in my ears that broke me down more and more everyday with nowhere safe to hide. It destroyed me. However Acri comes along and says "Hi, here's Kelsey" around July of 2017. This was my first real girlfriend. Things were happy and great at first. She helped me with my mental and so on. However you know how her story arc goes.

Now back at work, it was October 2016. I get into another car accident after falling asleep while driving into work. I was right outside of the office when this happened, so everyone there knew this was happening. I get this taken care of with the police and the report. I go into my dad's office to avoid people as he offered to, and would let me file the insurance stuff. But, the woman who berated me regulary came knocking on the office door and saying "Hello? You ever going to come to your desk and actually do work today?" This is when I break... I shut the door on her and text my dad to come back asap. I tell him what happened and he agrees to fire me for unemployment benefits. I am unemployed yet again.

I go for most of October and November jobless. I eventually pick a job up at Panera Bread in December of 2017. I am still dating Kelsey, and we have met IRL a few times now. She despises my family due to a few stupid disputes. She refuses to hear rhyme or reason and just hates them without compromise. However working at Panera was nice. I met a lot of people there and was working evening shifts, so I had a regular sleep schedule that wouldn't cause driving accidents. While working there I need to leave home, my mother is still berating me and tearing me apart at home. I start looking into an apartment, and while doing so, Kelsey insists she needs to leave her home state of Pennsylvania. I feel like we are ready to move in together thinking things were okay. I settled on in apartment in June 2018.

After taking a week off, I move into the aprtment myself with my parents help, and Kelsey shortly after. My parents and kelsey had a major argument at this point. My parents insisted on having the apartment key to tidy up things while I spent the weekend driving to PA to move Kelsey's shit, and Kelsey despised this idea as anything my parents did was evil in her eyes. So they argued and argued. My mom also eventually would find my sex toy in my room back home and we had a major argument about those. She would call me the Devil's child and we never would really be on "friendly" terms again.

Well after moving Kelsey into my new apartment, I realize the mistake I made. She is useless as a human being. She does nothing to help around the apartment. I am working full time and the only one capable of driving. Kelsey would sit home and do nothing but eat and game. She did no chores, and if I asked her to, she would yell at me. We had no sex life either. She strung me along making me act like a father, driving her where she needed to go, buying her groceries, doing chores at home. I sacrificed everything and would never recieve anything in return. She eventually would break up with my at the start of February 2019. I was destroyed, but this was thankfully something that had to happen. While I was destroyed and heavily suicidal again, I eventually recovered and started going to therapy. Also mind you Kelsey was blaming me for things, she was saying how I needed to get better, how I was the lazy one, how I didn't do enough to make her happy.

So after about 2 weeks of devestation, I start recovering thanks to Acri and Nevan. They help me through this time, but I am however still stuck living with Kelsey for about 4 more months. She already has a new boyfriend. That, is oddly suspicious, but fine whatever. I play nice, I keep being Kelsey's father but I refuse to do any more cooking for her. She at the very least must feed herself. She starts to claim I'm abusing her and enjoy watching her suffer. March of 2019 she decides to have her new boyfriend visit. I am so against this and tell them to get a hotel room. Kelsey says they cant for a whole week, which was how long he was staying. We compromise on them having a hotel for the initial weekend, then they sleep on the couch of the apartment for the rest of the duration. Well this happens and I mostly just ignore them during this shit. Her new boyfriend, who was named in discord as, Dragon Daddy, finally leaves.

The following month Kelsey goes out to visit him, I finally have a week away from Kelsey. I feel great and so on. She eventually comes back, we get into more arguments on the regular. She eventually disappears randomly at the start of June 2019. The last month of the apartment. She is gone without saying anything and barely taking anything of hers. She doesn't respond to me for a days. I'm somewhat concerened but fine whatever. She eventually says she is gone and not coming back. She left her shit here though. Near the start of July I come back home from work. The apartment is TRASHED, about 50% of her stuff is gone. I guess she came by and took it without a word. She doesn't respond to messages. I move out in July and into a new apartment the following month.

Kelsey reaches out again and is asking to get the security deposit for our apartment, which I personally fully paid for. I tell her no and she has no claim to it. We argue about it until I block her because I refuse to deal with it. We packed the things she left at my apartment into boxes and send her a message that says she has one month to give us a shipping address or else it is all going into the trash. She responds with "Never contact me again, I refuse to talk to Jacob due to his abuse of me." I have not heard from her since.

And now we move onto the new stuff. I did start a new job in November of 2018 at Potbelly. It was nicer than Panera due to a lighter work load. And my life is starting to go up. I was recieving therapy which helped and eventually had to stop due to insurance not allowing more sessions. But I'm on an up trend. Things are going well, 13Noobz roster was going well until that exploded, so we talked and decided to find Lost Collective. It has its issues, but I am proud of it. And Due to LCST I have made wonderful new friends, and well of course Tay, being the best. I honestly do love you, and I'm happy to have met you and hope Acri makes you happy, as you deserve it. And of course everyone that has joined my Discord has been wonderful, and due to living with Brian, me and him have rekindled our brotherly bonds.

Of course I'm not perfect, especially mentally and physically. I don't look great, I still have depression, which definetly spikes up in Winter (seasonal depression). But, well, for now at the very least I can say I'm content with my life. I have friends who actually care about me for the first time, well ever. Acri has also recently come back into my life majorly which is nice. So I have my solid foundation of Nevan, Tay, and Acri. The 3 people closest to me. And of course I love interacting with the others. I just, well am not use to this. I haven't had friends since highschool, and definetly not ones who are as close to me as I am close to them. It's nice to have my own love and affection for my friends be returned in full.