#Authentic L.A.

[trapangeles]

JPThaRuler Returns: Unleashing 'Cloccer' and Taking His Throne in L.A.

After a prolonged absence from the music scene, Long Beach rapper JPThaRuler is back with a bang, marking his return with the much-anticipated release of his latest music video, "Cloccer." This comeback signifies more than just a return to the studio; it's a reclaiming of his spot in the vibrant landscape of L.A. Rap.

The Hiatus: JPThaRuler's hiatus wasn't by choice but a result of navigating legal challenges and patiently awaiting the opportune moment for his resurgence. This period, though challenging, served as a cocoon for artistic evolution, setting the stage for a phoenix-like return.

The Comeback Single: "Cloccer": "Cloccer" isn't just a track; it's a statement. The title itself suggests a meticulous observation of time, as JPThaRuler makes it clear that he's been keeping a close eye on the game. The music video serves as a visual testament to his unique style and the narrative he's weaving into the L.A. rap scene.

"One of One" Rap Style: JPThaRuler proudly boasts a rap style he dubs "One of One," signifying his commitment to authenticity and originality. In a world saturated with trends and imitations, JPThaRuler stands out by staying true to himself and his distinctive artistry.

The Long Beach Legacy: Long Beach has birthed legends in the rap game, and JPThaRuler is poised to add his chapter to this legacy. With a style that reflects the diversity and grit of his hometown, JPThaRuler's "Cloccer" is more than a song; it's a sonic embodiment of Long Beach's spirit.

Taking His Rightful Place: For JPThaRuler, the hiatus wasn't a setback; it was a setup. The stage is now set for him to take his rightful place among L.A.'s rap peers. "Cloccer" is the announcement of his return, and it's clear that he's not here to follow trends but to set his own.

Conclusion: JPThaRuler's "Cloccer" isn't just a music video; it's a testament to resilience, authenticity, and the unwavering spirit of a rapper who's ready to reclaim his throne. As the track reverberates through the streets of Long Beach and beyond, JPThaRuler's return is marked with a promise — a promise of a rap journey that's "One of One" and uniquely his own.

Have you been spending all your money and time on making music and shooting videos, but still not getting any exposure? Tired of just spinning your wheels? You know to get exposure you need to get featured on blogs, radio stations, playlist, and get your music e-mail blasted out to the masses. Need help getting all that done? Then check out the Package we’ve made available for you below!

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[anothermansjeans]

I need to know what the rest of the bau thought of youtuber Reader when they first met them 😭

ah yes, i love a good bau reaction!! this takes place very early in their relationship 🫶

cw: fluff! mention of drinks, karaoke, MEETING THE TEAM!!

wc: 840

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“We really don't have to go.”

You let out a loud laugh as you turned around, clasping a dainty necklace around your neck. “You're kidding, right?”

“I don't want you to feel pressured into meeting everyone. Especially because they'll crack jokes about us– mostly me– and I don't want it to be uncomfortable.” He sat on your bed, wringing his finger together as he spoke.

Once the necklace was secured, you walked towards him and placed your hands on his cheeks, feeling his hands automatically shift up towards your hips. “You could never make me feel pressured, Spence. You do the opposite! I feel so comfortable with you, I don't think meeting new people will kill me.” He let out a breathy laugh and squeezed your hips, prompting you to continue. “Plus, I've already met Penelope. I’m assuming that if your team is as half as caring as she is we’ll get along fine.”

“And the whole “joking about us” thing? You don't care?”

Brushing his hair back, you gave him a playful smile. “What do you think my comment section does to me whenever I bring up my ‘big-brained boyfriend’? I don't give a shit what someone has to say as long as we’re happy. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you smiled and placed a peck on his lips. “Now let’s get moving. I’ve heard the bar we’re going to has karaoke and I don't think I’m being my authentic self if I don't embarrass both of us with a terrible duet!”

Standing up and grabbing his jacket and your hand, Spencer let out a rushed, “we are not singing” as the two of you walked out of your apartment.

The two of you did end up singing. Multiple times!

When you first got to the bar, everyone was sitting at a high top waving over once they saw Spencer. Turns out, Penelope already shared a few of your videos with the group prior to your arrival and Emily and JJ were obsessed with you, David Rossi didn't understand the lifestyle (but showed his support), Aaron expressed how happy he was for Spencer and yourself, and Derek was a bit apprehensive– but for good reasons!

After everyone got acquainted, Derek made sure to pull Spencer to the side. “Are you sure you're up for her lifestyle?”

His question didn't come as a surprise to Spencer. It was actually a topic frequently talked about between the two of you, because you're always worried he’ll realize this isn't what he wants. But it is. He wants you. The lifestyle just comes with it. “Yeah, Morgan, I’m sure.” The face he made told Spencer he wasn't buying it. “I know it's soon but… I would do anything for her. It’s not rational and usually I would think these things through but–”

“I get it.” Derek’s words caused Spencer to look at him like a deer in headlights.

“You do?”

“Yeah, man. She seems great so far, I was just worried about. I’m happy for you.” Tilting his head over towards the group Derek, said his next words with a genuine smile, “let’s get back over there before the ladies eat her alive with their questions.”

The two men walked back over to the table as JJ was finishing up her question. “So these magazine companies ask you to do interviews for them on the red carpets?” you let out a small hum, prompting her to ask another question. “Wouldn’t it be easier to live in L.A or New York?”

At her question, you looked over at Spencer sitting back down beside you, and gave a smile before turning back to everyone. “Maybe… I was thinking about it earlier in the year but… things changed in my life and I think I have too much here I can't part with.” A coo of awes filled the table, which caused your cheeks to turn a shade of red. Feeling a hand on your knee, you looked over to Spencer and saw him smiling.

“That was sweet.”

“Mhmm.”

Spencer lifted an eyebrow, squeezing your knee as his words left his mouth, “you're embarrassed now?”

“...just a little…” looking up at him through your lashes, you could see his smile shift to a playful one. “Karaoke might help,” you added, watching as he rolled his eyes.

“And let me guess, me singing with you would help even more?”

“You really are a genius!” The two of you shared smiles, in your own little bubble completely oblivious of the awestruck team around you. “Come on! One song? Please?”

And he couldn't say no to you. So yes, you did end up singing. After a silly duet with just the two of you, Penelope joined in, and then a couple more members had to do a song as well. Multiple songs were sung, drinks shared, and memories made. If the team wasn't so transparent about taking a liken to you, Spencer would've sworn up and down that they loved you… almost as much as he realized he loved you.

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

On the heels of coop with body hair 'nd all that, how would coop feel about his lover having a happy trail/body hair/clean shaved? Obvi it's different for everyone irl with preferences, just wanted your thoughts!! 💗

Anon, apparently you, me, and @love-affair-with-fandoms are forming some sort of dark triad with our brains, because they sent me this wonderful little Walton Goggins interview blurb that I think perfectly sums up how both versions of Cooper Howard would feel about body hair on a partner (it was literally the next ask in my inbox and they came within a few minutes of one another!):

Prewar!Cooper Howard is so used to being around "L.A. people" who are all perfectly made-up, waxed, tanned, and toned constantly, so I think having a partner with any body hair would be strangely exciting to him. I think it would remind him of a kind of authenticity, a sort of comfort with oneself and one's body that he almost never sees anymore. And I think he'd like that a lot. Do you know anything about raising chickens, by the way...?

Also, this quote only confirms further to me that he would be a big ol' fan of bush of all kinds. Even if he waxes his chest, which I think he would for pretty boy actor reasons, his pubes are intact. Like I said, not unkempt, but he's certainly not shaving below the belt. He'd prefer it if you didn't, either. Granted, he's a sweetheart who respects your autonomy, so if you wanna be dolphin smooth, you won't see him complaining. Maybe you've always shaved or waxed, even just trimmed it short, and you get behind on your grooming for a few weeks due to life being hectic. The first time he sees you that way, I think it would turn him on a lot and you'd be due for a lesson on how much this man loves eating hairy pussy. Not bad incentive to ditch the extra work of shaving/trimming, or the extra cost of waxing (which he will happily pay for if you decide you still want to do it in the future, make no mistake...it'll just make him a little sad inside).

The Ghoul (like most ghouls, in my opinion) is just obsessed with human hair, period. Doesn't matter where it's growing from. Spending decades and decades with no hair will make you forget how nice it can feel, how unique its presence can make the human face and body, so I think hair anywhere on you would be constantly petted and stared at once you two got close enough. And I mean anywhere. Hairy knuckles or forearms? Happy trail/belly hair? Especially thick eyebrows? Fascinated by it all, hovering close the second you have anything bare enough for him to touch it. You tease him about it, and he tells you to shut up. When you get really close, you often fall asleep to the feeling of him stroking your hair.

He's long forgotten (and then remembered again) that women used to be expected to shave basically everything, and he's decided that he much prefers the way things are now, for once, on that front. He thinks your armpit and leg hair is cute and he'd be so sad to see you without it.

Would be similarly crazy about bush, but in a softer, more reverent way. I think he would like to take a long nap on a nice, soft bush.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Whistle Down the Wind, Chapter Ten

Word Count: 4503

TW:  Idiots in love, angst, smut (PiV, protected). 18+ only.

AN:  Part of a series.  The series masterlist here.

You were late.  Again.

To be fair, though, it wasn’t your fault this time.  When your plane landed at LaGuardia, it ended up taxiing for forty minutes until it found an available gate, and then you had to sprint to baggage claim.  And then you had to find a taxi, and when you did, traffic was so bad that the driver shot into New Jersey and took I-95 to get to Staten Island.

It didn’t matter, as long as you got there eventually.  Sometimes you had to take the long way round.

********

It was a subdued Thanksgiving, which suited Sonny just fine.  Theresa’s daughters, since the divorce, had to split their holidays between their parents, so they were with their father.  Theresa herself had opted to stay in Connecticut and host her own wine-based, solo Thanksgiving for herself.  Gina and her latest boyfriend had stopped in for a quick dinner but had left to go to his family’s house on the other end of the island.  Bella and her baby – a little girl named Moira – were taking a nap upstairs in her childhood bedroom, exhausted by the baby’s awful sleep schedule.  That left Sonny parents and Tommy in the living room, watching the football game and dozing off from their respective turkey comas.

Sonny was so exhausted that he was having trouble sleeping.  It had been an awful year.  He had an undercover assignment with a men’s shelter that left him shaken to his core about the thin possibility of redemption for lost souls.

His sergeant had also been gunned down and killed.  They never replaced him, though, so SVU was running perpetually short-handed.  He rarely had time off, he never had time to recover from one case to the next, and his commanding officer seemed pretty cavalier about the mental wellness of her detectives.

If he ever needed his best friend, it was now, but he respected your choice to move to L.A.

He kept in touch with you, of course.  He called and texted, and the two of you had a few video chat sessions.  You showed him your cramped little apartment a few blocks from the ocean, and once you had a chat from London, where you were working on a limited episode run for a streaming service. 

He loved seeing you, but it left him heart-sore.  Seeing you on the screen of his laptop could not compare to the genuine article.

He held back a lot of his work struggles.  He didn’t tell you how lonely he was, how much he missed his friend.  He didn’t want to make you regret your choice.  All the same, you seemed to sense when he was at his lowest, because a new playlist always seemed to appear for him to bolster his flagging spirits.

The best playlists, though, were the ones he was able to buy after you started your stint on the west coast.  You got work – first with the limited run series, then with a bare-bones action film, then with a larger film.  You scored a documentary, and the haunting piano and string-based score was nominated at some film festivals.  Sonny bought every soundtrack and score that had your name on it. 

He set up a news alert for your name and got some traffic.  The best was a profile about new up-and-comers.  It was a group shot of everyone in the piece, but he was able to crop everyone else out on his computer.  You looked amazing in it:  hair down and styled, in a chic tuxedo tailored to your form, with a slight smile on your face.

Still, he missed you.  And on days like Thanksgiving, he felt your absence more keenly.

He sat with his parents and Tommy for a bit, half-heartedly watching the Lions play.  He wondered what you were doing.  Probably hanging out with your new friends, eating the authentic Mexican food you were always raving about.

He stood up abruptly and made his way down to the rec room in the basement.  Most holidays – and summers when you were in college – that’s where you and Sonny ended up.  It was your movie hub:  just the two of you curled up on the couch together, under his nonna’s scratchy acrylic crocheted blanket (because he cranked the air to an uncomfortable degree on purpose), watching a movie and ignoring the tension between the two of you.  Well, he knew it was tension now.  At the time, he had just thought it was him.

He sprawled out across the old couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found something.  “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.”  Sonny smiled.  It was one of your favorite movies, and he settled down and watched it.  If his mind wandered, it wandered back to your final week in the city.  Those few final days you had spent together, mostly in his bed (and in his shower and on his couch and once on his kitchen counter).  He replayed those moments over and over, but the details had grown hazy over time.  All he could vividly remember was the feeling of completion and contentment when you had fallen asleep beside him.

The movie was about halfway done when he heard people talking upstairs – laughter and little shrieks of joy.  He guessed that Moira was awake and his mother was cooing over her.  Or maybe Tommy and his dad were really getting into the Lions game.

He heard the basement door open and someone take a few tentative steps down the creaky stairs.  It must be time for dessert and coffee, but Sonny wasn’t hungry.

“I’ll be up in a bit, ma,” he called over the back of the couch, focused on the screen in front of him. 

“I’m not your ma, stretch,” a familiar voice replied in a teasing lilt, and he shot up into a sitting position just in time to see you descend the rest of the steps. ********

Your first thought was that you broke him.  He stared at you over the back of the couch so long without saying anything, you worried that he had died in place.

Your second thought, as you looked him over was, Christ, he looks exhausted.

Sonny was as handsome as ever.  His hair was a little greyer, but it made him hotter, in your opinion.  It was soft and tousled, unstyled – your favorite version of his hair.  His eyes were as blue as the ocean.

But he looked pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes, and the lines around his eyes were deeper than the last time you saw him.  You knew that his job wasn’t easy, and you knew from Bella that it had been more difficult than usual.  You worried that you hadn’t made things easier on him either.

He continued to stare at you, and your eyes flicked to the TV.  It was one of your favorite holiday movies, and you made a little cry of delight.  You walked around to the couch and made to sit down to watch, but Sonny shot to his feet and pulled you into a fierce hug.  He wrapped his long arms around you and squeezed you so hard you thought your ribs would break again. 

“You’re really here,” he muttered into your hair.

“I am,” you replied.  Your face was pressed against his chest, and you breathed him in.  He wore a cologne that always made you think of growing things – a sort of fresh, green smell that combined with his soap and his own body chemistry.  “I would have been here sooner, but traffic was a nightmare.”

He squeezed you to him for another moment, then pushed you away, his hands firmly placed on your upper arms.  “No one told me,” he said, looking you over.  “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”  You suddenly felt shy underneath the scrutiny of his gaze, and you ducked your head.

He moved both of his hands to either side of your face.  “It’s the best surprise ever,” he declared, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.  You sighed and kissed him back.  You had missed him so much.

He tilted your head, deepening the kiss.  You felt him part his lips and run the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, but before you could open your mouth to him, the basement door swung open again.  A voice – Bella’s – yelled down that coffee and dessert were being served.

“And stop making out, you perverts,” she added for good measure, and you ignored her cackling laughter with all the dignity you could muster. 

********

Sonny sat across from you at the dining room table as everyone gathered for pumpkin pie and coffee.  You immediately scooped baby Moira from Bella’s arms, claiming that you had to make up for lost time.  The baby grabbed at your hair and tried to shove her chubby fist in your mouth.  She was completely enamored with you.

Baby Moira wasn’t the only one.  Sonny felt like he would never be able to look at you enough.  Your hair was just a shade messy – he knew it was from your cross-country flight, but it looked exactly like your usual post-sex hair, and it made him feel more turned on than he would usually like while sitting with his family at the dining room table. 

You were in relaxed jeans and a button-down flannel shirt, partially unbuttoned and revealing a lace-trimmed camisole underneath.  You looked completely comfortable, and maybe for the first time since Sonny met you – completely comfortable with yourself.  You had a relaxed air about you.  Maybe it was all the sunshine.  More likely, it was all those tamales that you raved about.

Bella dished out pie while Dom Senior poured mugs of coffee and passed them around.  Sonny’s mother went to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later bearing a plate of reheated leftovers.  She placed it in front of you with a smile.

“I’m sorry I was late,” you said with a rueful shrug.  “Our plane didn’t have a gate and it took forever to get here.”

His mother waved off your apology.  “We’re just glad you’re here.”

You tucked into your leftovers one handed, your other arm cradling the baby as she dozed off against you.  It made Sonny smile to see it.  You were always such a natural with his nieces – even this one who had just met you.

“How long are you staying?” Dom Senior asked. 

You chewed a forkful of stuffing and swallowed before you answered.  “I fly back on Sunday morning.”  Sonny felt his stomach drop.  You were only here for a few days, and it already felt like time was slipping away too quickly.

You glanced over at him and caught his gaze before you continued.  “I have a few more months on my sublet here in New York, but after that, I’m going to move back.”  You gave him a smile.  “I’ve made great connections, and I’ll probably have to travel back to L.A. more than I’d like, but plenty of composers and musicians live elsewhere.”

Bella scoffed and gestured to the window where an icy rain was pattering against the glass.  “You’re trading in warm weather and sunshine for this?”

“Aren’t you the one who gave me a list of reasons why L.A. was worse than New York?” you teased back.

“I just liked living vicariously through you,” she shot back.  “How many friends run into one of the Marvel Chrises on the way to the bathroom?”

You nodded and took another bite of stuffing.  “True.  But I can’t keep up with the people out there.  Too many diets and workouts.  Everyone assumes I’m a wannabe actress and critiques me accordingly.”  You scowled at your plate.  “One producer told me that I was a ‘New York five but an L.A. two,’ and that was after he realized I was there to score his garbage movie.”

Sonny felt a flare of hot anger to hear that some guy made you feel bad about yourself.  “You’re a Staten Island eleven,” he blurted, making the table erupt in laughter.  He felt his face growing red, and his dad reached over and clapped him hard on the back.

“Smooth, son,” he chuckled, but Sonny’s mom reached over from the other side and smacked her husband. 

“Like you ever did any better,” she teased.  Dom Senior snatched her hand as she tried to draw it back and kissed the back of it.

“I did good enough to get you,” he said with a wide grin, making Bella groan in embarrassment.  Sonny, though, could only watch you across the table.

********

Sonny’s family was old-fashioned, despite having a grandchild out of wedlock and a daughter who had recently divorced.  As such, you and Sonny put up what you hoped was a convincing charade about how he was going to drive you to a friend’s place where you were crashing for the next few days. 

The reality, of course, was that within seconds of returning to his apartment, he had you pressed against his door, the two of you kissing fiercely and pawing at each other like you were each drowning.  There were too many sensations and emotions:  the feel of his warm hands as they untucked your shirt and camisole to touch your back.  His mouth on yours, his lips impossibly soft.  His thigh, as it pressed between your own legs and parted them.

You reached down and tugged at his grey Henley, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, ruffling his hair even more.  You tossed it aside and then his mouth was back on you, kissing the sensitive spot at the junction of your neck and shoulder, sending chills through you.

“I missed you so much, doll,” he whispered against your neck.  His breath was hot and sent another tremor through you.

You ran your fingers through his hair.  “I missed you more,” you breathed back.

Sonny fumbled at your shirts.  His fingers scrabbled at your button-up, and he mumbled curses when he couldn’t get it undone fast enough.  When he did get it unbuttoned, he tried to pull it off of you, but your sleeves got caught and he cursed again as he unbuttoned the cuffs. 

You pushed him off of you so that you could handle it, so he shifted his attention to his own clothes.  He tugged his undershirt over his head, but slowed and then stopped completely to watch you as you removed your camisole.

You bent over and pulled your boots off, then straightened up to unbutton your jeans.  You looked up at Sonny and laughed at him.  His chest was rising and falling with his shuddering breaths, and his mouth hung slightly agape.

He moved swiftly to you.  He pressed you back against the door, latching his mouth on the pulse point.  You laid your hands on his bare chest and tugged on his sparse smattering of blond hair there.

Sonny’s hands drifted down to your hips and finished unzipping your jeans.  He unlatched his mouth from your neck and worked his way down, pushing your pants down over your hips, down you thighs.  His ran his warm palms over your bare legs before he pulled your jeans over your feet and tossed them aside.

He knelt in front of you, and you laid your hands on the top of his head.  You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging it gently, trying to get him to stand back up.  He looked up at you, in just your underwear, while he was still half-clothed.

“You need to catch up, Dominick,” you said.  You loved the way his sunny blue eyes turned dark when you called him by his first name. 

Instead of responding to you, he slid an arm behind you, cupping your ass in his large hand and pulled your lower half towards him until his face was pressed into your lower belly.  You ran your nails over his scalp, drawing low groans from him that vibrated through you.  His hot breath made the throbbing between your legs increase almost painfully.  You felt dangerously close to losing your legs underneath you.

“S-Sonny,” you stuttered as he moved his mouth a fraction lower.  “I need you.”

“You have me,” he murmured against you.  He licked along the lace waistband of your panties, making your knees buckle just a bit. 

You tightened your grip on his hair, drawing another groan from him.  You felt almost dizzy with desire and had to press the back of your head against the door and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Sonny, we have plenty of time,” you told him in a strangled voice.  “But right now, I really need you.”

His other hand landed on your hip, tugging at the edge of your panties and pressing wet kisses on each new inch of exposed skin.  He didn’t reply, too focused on moving his mouth closer and closer to his target.

“Damnit, Dominick!” you yelled, and you pulled his hair hard enough to get his attention.  He looked up and shot you a wounded look, like a puppy that had been scolded, but whatever he saw on your face made him stand up and press the length of his body against yours.  You pulled his face to yours and kissed him breathlessly, without any art or ability.  Just his mouth with his soft lips against yours, tongues sliding against each other, breathing each other’s moans.

“I need you,” you repeated, panting against him.  He shifted his head back to the nook against your neck.  “Please.  I…I’ve waited for this for months.  I’ve missed you, Sonny.  So, so much.”  You wrapped your hand along the back of his neck, stroking between his hairline and the knobs of the top of his spine.  You felt rather than heard Sonny sniffling against you, and you felt the first tears when they hit your shoulder.

“I missed you too, doll,” he said.  “And it’s been a tough year.”  His voice was watery, and you tightened your grip around him, pulling him as tight as you could.  He took deep breaths against you as he tried to regain his composure, and once he was calmed, you took his face between both of your hands.  You forced him to face you, and you looked into his brilliant blue eyes, now rimmed and swollen from his tears.

“I love you, Dominick,” you said solemnly.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

He shook his head gently between your hands.  “I’m glad you went, doll.”  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you.  “I’d never want to hold you back.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him – his namesake sunniness was contagious.  “I’m here now though.”

“You are.”  He reached down to grasp the back of your thighs, and you jumped up into his arms.  You bit back a moan at the sensation of him pressed against your core, and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you into his bedroom and laid you down on the bed.

He stood at the foot of the bed and removed the rest of his clothes, and you wriggled out of your underwear so that when he crawled over you, you were both completely naked. 

You could feel the conflict in him – you knew that Sonny was gentle and probably wanted to take his time, but you also could feel how badly he missed you.  He settled on an uneven middle ground, pressing slow, wet kisses to you while his hands roved wildly over your form. 

His mouth drifted a lazy path from your mouth to your jaw and down your neck, across your collarbones and back to your mouth.  His hands wandered down your sides and up your front to cup first one breast and then the other.  He stroked your nipples until they were peaked and hard under his caresses. 

Spurred on by your moans and your squirming underneath him, his hand glided further down until it was pressed between your legs.  He slid a finger between your folds and groaned at how wet you were.  He pulled his head back to peer down at you, and your face felt red-hot.

“I told you I needed you,” you muttered at him, avoiding his gaze.

“I told you that you have me,” he replied thickly, and he pushed his finger into you slowly, making both of you moan.  Your face grew hotter, which didn’t seem humanly possible, as he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes.  He slid a second finger into you, then shifted his hand so that his thumb was circling your clit.

You huffed out a breath through your nose and tried to calm yourself, but you felt a liquid heat pooling deep in your belly, and you knew you weren’t going to last long. 

“Sonny, stop,” you whispered.  You felt him hesitate and pull his hand away from you.  You looked up and saw the question in his eyes.

“I want to…finish,” you stammered.  “With you, you know.  Inside me.”

He nodded and shifted his weight off of you to reach into his nightstand for a condom.  You used the moment to try and steady yourself again, squeezing your eyes shut as you heard him rip the wrapper.  Then you felt him stretch himself on top of you again, and you felt his hand cup your face, the thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly.  You opened your eyes and looked up at him.  He gazed down at you as if you were the only other person in the world.

All the years of frustrated longing, all the other people you’d each been with, every conversation and glance laden with unrequited love – it all fell away when he looked at you like that.  You smiled at him and reached up to cup his own face in your palm, and he leaned into it, touch-starved.  After a moment, you simply nodded at him, and he reached down to line himself up with your entrance.

He pressed the tip of his erection into you with a groan, and you felt dangerously close to the edge.  He slid into you slowly – way too slowly.  His position on top of you made the angle shallow, and his length dragged along your sensitive clit as he pressed himself into your molten core. 

You wanted to make it last, but every single sensation was too much:  the friction on you bundle of nerves where the two of you were joined.  His hot breath, panting praise in your ear.  The scent of his cologne and your perfume mingling along with the headier scent of sex. 

He was only halfway inside you, but it was too late.  You gasped his name once, and then shuddered underneath him with a whimper, your legs wrapping around him to pull the rest of him into you in one thrust.  He started to reply to you, but he growled instead as your sheath gripped him, your orgasm ripping through you.  You shut your eyes as you came, moaning his name over and over.  You were distantly aware of him cursing above you, and he gave a single thrust until he came too.

He collapsed on top of you completely, and his weight pressed you into the mattress.  He groaned again, in frustration this time.  You stroked his hair at the back of his head until you both recovered.  He lifted his head to looked down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you each said at the same time, and you both laughed.  He leaned down and kissed you firmly before he shifted his weight and pulled out of you.  He left the room for a moment to dispose of the condom, then he came back into the bedroom.  He laid down beside you, and you each turned on your sides to face each other.

“I’m sorry I came too quickly,” you said with a rueful grin.  “I was too worked up, I guess.”

He pinched your chin lightly between his fingers and kissed you again.  “It’s all well and good for girls,” he grumbled good-naturedly.  “But I didn’t last at all.  Now all my street cred it gone.”  You laughed at this, and he pretended to look angry.

“It’s your fault,” he continued.  “You set me off.”

“Well, I owe you then,” you replied.  You tried to look contrite.  “Since your street cred is gone and all that.”  You snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his skin pressed against yours.  He wrapped a lanky arm around you and pulled you tighter.

You felt comfortably drowsy, the net effect of your flight, Ma Carisi’s dinner, and being back in Sonny’s bed.  He hummed above you contently, and you started to doze off until your cell phone chimed from the other room.  You roused a bit but settled back against him.

Then it chimed again, and a third time.

“You need to get that?” Sonny asked.  His voice rumbled through his chest.  “Your west coast boyfriend, maybe?”  You knew he was joking, but there was still a jealous undercurrent to his tone.

“There was no west coast boyfriend,” you murmured against him.  “Unless you count my detachable shower head.”

He snorted at this but you could feel the relief in him as he relaxed against you. 

Then his phone chimed, one after another after another.

“Is that Nicole?” you asked, only half-meanly.  He snorted again before he untangled from you and grabbed at his pants at the foot of the bed. 

“Be careful,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket.  “If you say her name three times, she’ll turn up and haunt your house.”  You laughed at this and sat up.  You wound his blanket around yourself.  Sonny unlocked his phone.

“Is it work?” you asked.  You felt your stomach dip.  You wanted to stay in this little bubble with Sonny for the entire weekend.  A little sex bubble, maybe with the occasional movie and homemade pasta break.

He just chuckled in reply.  “No, it’s Bella.”  He held up his phone so that you could read the screen.  “She tried to text you and you didn’t reply.  Now she’s of the impression that you’re here with me, corrupting her chaste, virginal brother with your wanton ways.”  He typed out a reply, then turned off his phone and tossed it on the nightstand before lying back down.  He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you down beside him.

“What did you tell her?” you asked.

“The truth,” he said.  He kissed you chastely, then tilted his head to deepen the kiss.  He broke away to look down at you, and his blue eyes were glittering with unshed tears again.  “I told her that you’re home.”

[jgroffdaily]

Jonathan Groff gushed over the “surreal” experience seeing his best friend Lea Michele go through her second pregnancy.

“Her last pregnancy, it was [during] Covid,” Groff, 39, recalled exclusively to Us Weekly on Monday, June 3, while attending the Advocate + Out Magazine Pride Cover Launch in New York City. “She was in L.A., I was in Pennsylvania, mostly in Berlin, shooting The Matrix. And so I never saw her pregnant for her whole first pregnancy.”

Groff, who has been close with Michele, 37, since working together on Broadway’s Spring Awakening in 2006, is happy he gets to “see every stage of it” this time around.

“I just felt the baby kick for the first time last week. It’s very exciting,” Groff revealed.

The actor, who also starred on Glee with Michele from 2010 to 2015, said that Michele “looks so great” while carrying her second child.

Groff, who publicly came out as gay in 2009, does, however, know that working on Spring Awakening in the early 2000s was exactly what he needed to become his authentic self.

“Theater saved me. Looking back, I didn’t realize it was saving me,” Groff told Us on Monday. “When I was kind of ignorant too — I was so compartmentalized and so closeted that I didn’t realize at the time what [a] lifeline getting to sing and dance and emote and cry and be joyful at all of that was when I was that age.”

[suchalonelysunflower]

Happier Than Ever (Stay) (A.I)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Fem!Singer! Reader

Summary: Based on the songs Happier than Ever by Billie Eilish and Stay by Post Malone. pt 2 of YOYOK. You go back to L.A and old friends open old wounds

Warnings: ANGST. This is very, very based on my own experience so this is my therapy session with you guys, sorry. Mentions of abuse, death, melancholia, psychological abuse, sad times, curse words. And grammar errors (I didn't even check twice, I'm sorry)

Word Count: 8.7 k

Author's Note: Hey, I'm back because I've missed you and I needed to get this fit out of my chest and survive it. Please, if you like it reblog it and comment, I love to know your thoughts. SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS THAT WE'RE GETTING FEWER AND FEWER HERE. Thank you. Hope you like it and happy reading

YOYOK / Masterlist

“Hey,… I know it’s been a long time since we last saw each other. I’ve heard the new album is coming along great, I’m so happy for you. You… You seem happy, or at least that’s what I can see on social media. I just- I heard you were coming back home- I mean, L.A for some time and well, I was wondering if we could catch up? If you don’t have a place to stay maybe you could crash into mine, like the old times. But you probably already… Anyhow, just call me or text me if you want to. I would really love to-”

When I'm away from you, I'm happier than ever Wish I could explain it better I wish it wasn't true

You love the feeling of being above the clouds. So close to the sky that you marveled on the technological advances that allowed you to feel free.

“Mom, look!” You thought “I’m in the clouds, so high above. Is this the feeling you were always dreaming about?”

A pang of nostalgia stabbed your heart, wishing your mom could be there with you experiencing all of this. But she was back at home, safe and sound on the surface. You knew it was for the best, that you could miss her a little bit more before your heart begged you to go and visit, even when your mind knew better than to believe those rose colored glasses of memory.

Was it the feeling of familiarity that made you feel safe even when it hurt? Maybe. Still, you wish you could’ve shown the world to her, give her everything on a silver platter and say “Mom, I did it. I can take care of you now”

What would she say?

You know she’s proud and she’s thankful for everything you’ve done for her. Still, it doesn’t feel like enough. Her eyes just won’t shine the same way; her smile would change; and the hug won’t ever feel as comforting as you’d expected. Your heart would tell you that she loves you, but your mind would always go back to those moments where you doubted it could ever be unconditional. So you’ve learned to miss her a little bit longer each time. Longer until you learn to miss her for the rest of your life.

It was not a foreign feeling, but it was one that you learned to feel and apply to your life. With time you’ve known the patterns, you’ve learned to grow and let go because that’s not the energy you need to spend even a bit of your mind over. You could miss the happy moments but know that they don’t fit anywhere with the person you want to be most. For your own good, you needed to learn how to let go.

The path was not easy - having to teach your heart not to bleed itself dry for the memory of past times. All the tears and the hurt, it was all part of healing what other people broke. So, the beauty of the cracks made you see just how worthy you are. Even if sometimes the water leaks and your mind starts a whirlwind of doubt, you would never come back to the person you used to be when the people that you loved most didn’t love you as you deserved.

Since then, you found yourself thriving. Not only in your career as a musician, with your lyrics that resonated with a lot of people and even made you gain a considerable number of new fans; but, also with yourself. You started loving more freely, more authentically. you saw yourself in a better light and wished people from your past could see just how much better you are without them. Not to be mean or to gloat, but for them to know that you didn’t cave, that life was meant to be lived and you will be doing just that even if they’re not part of it anymore. You wanted them to be happy for you, just as happy as you are for them.

Still, it scared you to go back to L.A, a place that has seen you at your worst and was the cause of your declining mental health. Even if it was for a short period of time, you knew you couldn’t stay there. Your place, the place that you belong was somewhere across the sea; far from anything and anyone that could make you feel like you once did. Like you didn’t matter.

Yet, no process of healing is ever complete until the cycle of hurt is broken. There were some things in your chest that begged for you to say them. Now it was time to let them out. And, if you were honest, a tiny bit of curiosity tied itself to that feeling. There were just too many unanswered questions still left hanging in thin air. The problem was that you didn’t know if you’d like the answers.

“Hey, Y/N” Your agent called your attention as she sat next to you “I need to confirm the last dates for your airbnb, are you sure you want to shorten your stay?”

You smiled softly at her “Yeah, I will be staying with some friends after”

“Okay, but are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. There’s a lot of things we need to catch up”

Every time we make-up, the truth is fading' Everybody's blind when the view's amazing'

It was weird to feel foreign in a place that helped shape you into the person you are now. But, then again, L.A never felt like home. Australia didn’t either, even though that’s what you’ve been saying in all the interviews when they asked what’d you miss more from home. “My family, the sweets, my friends, the sun…” But the sun did shine in other places; your family, you realized, never made any difference; the sweets could be ordered online; and your friends… Your friends changed. In the end, home never felt like home because you could create it everywhere you’d go.

There just places you’ve been. Home is something else, something you haven’t found yet.

Still, if you had to admit something is that the sun in L.A shines differently than in other places. It always seemed like you were entering a strange dimension, always playing “Something about the sunshine” on loop inside your mind.

You’ve been there a month and so. Enough time to have meetings and writing retreats that lasted a weekend. You’ve been to social required events, just as you do every couple of months to show your agency that you do know just how lucky you are. You’ve been to concerts, gave concerts, left concerts early to go and drink some wine curled up with a book in your bathtub in the hotel room. A small holiday mixed with a little bit of work, you’d say.

But you were leaving in a week, and there are still some things left on the schedule.

You sighed as you grabbed your bag from the sidewalk. The driver was kind enough to offer his assistance, but you would much rather face this by yourself first. During the drive you’ve imagined what it would feel like. Seeing him again. You wondered if your heart was beating faster than usual because of excitement or anxiety. In all honesty you didn’t know what to expect or even if you should be expecting something out of this experience.

Yet, you made up your mind to try and heal this. Get the answers that you longed for and be able to move on completely free. So, once the car drove away, you walked up to the door you’ve only seen in pictures before, and rang the bell.

For a moment you wondered if he remembered. Hoping that, in the end, his proposal of having you as his guest wasn’t just a passing comment he made. After all, you didn’t know when you’ll be back in the city or if your schedule would ever be as free in L.A as it is now. And even if he forgot and didn’t expect you, well, you can’t say you’d be surprised. Thank goodness for back-up plans.

“Coming!” You heard moments before the door opened, barely giving you time to prepare.

There he was. His hair was longer, somewhat a few tones lighter than the last time you saw him. His eyes took a couple of blinks to recognize you, changing the gleam in that hazel color you used to share so many secrets with. He smiled at you, the ghost of a laugh hidden in the dimples you used to poke at lunchtime, claiming that it wasn’t fair that he got to be the pretty one of the two of you. And for a moment, the man standing in front of you was the same kid you met all those years back, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey!” Ashton sang with a laugh, stepping closer into your space and hugging you with one arm as the other took your bag out of your hands “I’m so glad to see you! It’s been so long”

“Yeah,” You softly said, pulling back just enough to analyze his face “Thanks for the invite, Ash”

“Of course! I know you’re not a big fan of hotels anyway and, you know, it’s good to have you back. You’re always welcome to stay here when you’re in town”

He opened his arm toward the door and invited you in. You tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time you stepped foot into his house ever since he moved to L.A. He invited you before when you first moved, but schedules were complicated back then and after a while he stopped offering.

It was hard to think that once you used to live at his house back in Australia. Always trying to escape whatever nonsense was happening over at yours. At some point, you lost count how many times you ended up napping on his bed while he played some dumb internet game on his computer or watched a really dumb movie because “You don’t understand, Y/N, Seth Rogen is a genius” And you didn’t understand because even then you thought Seth Rogen was a creep, but it didn’t matter. You were in your safe space. You were with him. And he probably didn’t even know just how much that meant to you.

Now as you look around, you couldn’t help but search for that same feeling. A sign telling you it’ll be okay.

“Sorry, I know the living room is a little messy”

You turned to watch him look around the place with a slight blush on his cheeks. You smiled kindly at him.

“It’s okay, I’m not one to talk either” You turned back to the room “This place… suits you. It’s a lot like I imagined. Very artsy, very you”

He looked at you confused for a while “Yeah, I haven’t changed it much since -” He caught himself before he could continue and tried to cover his realization with a cough “No, yeah. Thanks! Come, your room is over here”

Once he settled your bag on the bed you went and sat next to it. Silence falling over the two of you as he stood awkwardly at the door.

“I hope everything is-”

“Everything is lovely, Ash” You smiled “Thank you”

He nodded and looked away. Hands hid inside of his pockets as he thought of the right thing to say. But nothing seemed to come to mind.

Suddenly, you felt out of place. Incredibly conscious that maybe you were an inconvenience now that you were there. Maybe, after all, he didn't want you there. You wanted to take this chance to meet him and talk, knowing you couldn’t just pretend that the years of separation and the strangeness you now felt toward each other didn’t exist. Yet, judging by his stand, there might not be a chance to bring those old moments back.

“So, how long are you staying in L.A for?” He asked. And he must’ve seen the way your face fell in disappointment for he quickly followed by saying “Not that I’m not happy that you’re here, of course, I invited you. Just wondering because that bag is just-”

“Oh. Yeah, no. My other bags are still at the hotel”

“The hotel?”

“Yeah, I just asked my team if I could leave them there since we leave in a week and I don’t need much to get by while I’m here and so…”

“Wait,” Ashton shook his head “You’ve been in L.A for a while now?”

“A month or so”

“And you didn’t tell me? Y/N, I offered you a place to stay for a reason”

You frowned “Ash, I did tell you. Last time we texted to see when I was arriving, I told you I was already here”

“No, you said-” He protested as he took out his phone and you watched him scroll down to your conversation. His words got caught up once he read those messages again “I- I though-”

“I have been incredibly busy these past few days, hence why I didn’t want to inconvenience you with my crazy schedule and all. This last week is all I have to relax and so I thought that we could catch up this week before I leave?”

“No, no, no yeah, you’re totally right.” He said, running a hand through his face, embarrassedly “I’m just an idiot”

You looked at him quizzically.

“Everything okay, Ash?”

“I thought we had more time, that’s all” He smiled softly at you “Anyway, ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” You asked, a small smile forming in your face.

“Yeah! I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate your new album!”

Ashton started to dance awkwardly, making you laugh as you shook your head at him.

“You really don’t have to do that, you know?”

“I want to!” He said “You’ll see, just be ready by seven”

He clapped his hands and left the room. A warm feeling spread through your chest on the fact that he wanted to celebrate you and your success. It finally felt like he cared, like he hasn’t forgotten about you. This really was a chance to put all bad things in the past and start anew.

Or at least, that’s what you hoped.

You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath 'Cause you only listen to your fucking friends

Fuck off and pour another drink And tell me what you think You know that I'm too drunk to talk right now

You knocked on his door at fifteen past seven. You decided to wear your favorite light blue top with black, wide leg pants and some low heels. You didn’t really know where he was supposed to take you or how you should dress, so you went with the most comfortable but chic thing you could find given that you didn’t plan to go out as much.

When Ashton opened his door you took a step back to look at him. He was wearing jeans and a wide, white shirt. You could feel your cheeks blush, and had to look down to hide it. It was an awful familiar feeling that you thought you could leave behind knowing that it was extremely pointless to feel the way you once did.

And just like all those years back, he didn’t notice. But for the first time you were glad he didn’t.

“Sorry I made you wait” He said with a smile, closing the door behind him.

“It’s okay,” You said, looking up with a shy smile.

Ashton walked past you to grab his keys, the path he created with his cologne left you dumbfounded for a minute. It was a different smell, one that you weren’t familiar with.

“Why do you have so many colognes?” You asked him once, walking over to his small desk while he wrote what was left of his assignment. Ashton looked up and chuckled when he saw you puffing them into the air to smell them and making faces at each one “They’re mostly presents from my family. I think my aunts were trying to tell me something last year”

“Well, at least they have good taste” You said, trying on the one that had a clear, almost orangy color bottle “Yeah, I’m taking this one home”

“No the hell you’re not!” He got up and took the bottle away from you, raising his arm over his head so that you couldn't catch it. It was his favorite pastime to remind you just how short you were back then “This is my favorite one!”

“You never use it!”

“I will!”

After a couple more tries to grab it from his hands you saw yourself surrender and falling onto his bed again “If you don’t wear it at least five times a week, I’ll take it”

“Deal” He said with a smile, throwing one of his hoodies at you from the floor “And then you will hate it so much because it’ll remind you too much of me that you won’t even want it afterward”

You never told him that it would be the opposite.

Next thing you know, Ashton has parked and was getting out of the car. You looked around and you were surrounded by nice streets and expensive houses. You opened the door and looked over at Ashton who was nodding his head toward one of the houses.

“C’mon” He said with a smile.

“Where are we? Is this a new restaurant I haven’t heard about or…?” “What? No,” He chuckled, ringing the doorbell “Is my friend Andrew’s home. He invited us over for dinner to celebrate that he came back from tour as well”

You were at a loss for words, “He invited us?”

“Yeah, I told him you were coming. Why, what’s wrong?”

A lot. You wanted to tell him. A lot was wrong. How could he not see what he was doing? If he had told you that you were just going to a friend’s house then you wouldn’t have looked so out of place, or feel like a fish out of water. You didn’t know who this Andrew was, you didn’t even know if Ash had actually told them that you were coming or if you’re just going to turn up at this reunion/party for his friend. He said it was to celebrate you.

But before you could voice your concerns to him, the door opened and a guy with a big mop of hair jumped in to hug him.

“Dude! I’m so happy you could make it!” He - Andrew, apparently - smiled widely at Ash, chatting with him for a minute before he noticed you standing beside him “Oh, hi!”

“Hi,” You smiled shyly, extending your hand in greeting knowing Ashton was not going to introduce you judging by the face he just made, seemingly embarrassed of that fact “I’m Y/N”

“Of course!” Said Andrew, shaking your hand and pulling you in for a kiss on the cheek that you weren’t expecting “I heard so much about you, I didn’t know you were friends with this guy here”

“Yeah! We’re friends since the old Australian days” Ashton said, smiling at you “Y/N here dropped by for a visit since she’s doing a lil business around L.A”

You smiled tensely during that small exchange. Wanting nothing more than to crawl back into the car and wait for everything to be over.

One of the reasons you left L.A was because nothing ever felt right. For years you tried to fit in into the scene, going to parties and hosting them with a bunch of people who didn’t even know your last name. You were never good at making new friends, that is to say once you’ve established a relationship with someone then friendship would just roll around the corner. But everyone here was moving so fast it was almost impossible to even wish for a deeper connection with someone.

When you first moved, you thought it would be like a great new beginning. Yet you’ve never felt more alone. The only people you knew were from your team and from Ashton’s band, but even then they turned into more acquaintances given just how little time they seemed to spend in the city.

And maybe Ashton knew that. Maybe he was trying to fix that and give you some opportunities to mix with his group of friends; something you’ve been wanting to do since you moved here all those years ago. Still, something fell… off about all of this.

After the guys talked a little bit more, finally Andrew invited you in. There, you found a group of people you’ve never met hanging around the living room. Plastic cups and ashtrays were scattered around the room as a tinted, light smoke served to decorate the place and give you just an idea of the state of most attendees.

As you walked by, people started to come up to Ash, greeting him and spending a few minutes catching up. Not one of them turned to look at you for more than a second or even gave you the courtesy to say hi. Ashton didn’t seem to notice it at first, but there would come the rare occasion that he would introduce you to some of the groups that started forming around him.

It was not a rare sight for you. Back in school he was the popular one, always friendly with countless people you didn’t even see around school that often.

“This is Y/N, she’s here promoting her new album!” He’d say.

“Wait, I know you!” One of the strangers said, their smile totally welcoming “Taylor Swift gave you a few shout-outs recently, didn’t she?”

You smiled “Yeah! I had a chat with her at a label party a few days back. She’s amazing. We talked about collabing soon, maybe a writing session next time she flies out to the U.K”

“Damn, that’s awesome! I’m Laura, by the way” They said, extending her hand toward you “Ash, why didn’t you bring her along on one of our trips?”

Ashton chuckled “C’mon L, well…”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s our style. No offense” A guy next to them said. You frowned

“What do you mean?” You smiled awkwardly “Have you heard my songs before or-?”

“Nah, it ain’t that. It’s just- We don’t go Taylor Swift’s style”

You could feel your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you looked between Ashton and the other guy, hoping that Ash would intervene “But I’m not Taylor”

Once again you looked toward Ash, but his eyes were cast down to the bottle of beer that he held in his hands. You couldn’t help the disappointment that came over you then.

“Hey man, not cool” Laura said, locking your arms together as they pulled you away “Don’t mind him, he’s high out his mind right now. C’mon, let’s get a bit drunk”

They took you to the main couches and sat next to you. Your cheeks were a bit red from the humiliation. How could you have expected Ashton to defend you? He said it before that your music didn’t go with his vibes and that it was not really his thing, so why would he help you now?

“Those guys can be assholes sometimes. I love them, but they’re so…” Laura trailed off, looking over at you “But hey, forget about them. Tell me a little bit about yourself, how do you know Ash?”

You ended up telling them your whole story. About how you met when you were kids and how he was your best friend. How lonely you felt when he moved away the first time. And how excited you were to see him again after your big break, but that life got in the way. You probably told them more than you should’ve, but the drinks were soft and the room was crowded. And for the first time in the evening someone was actually willing to listen, curious to know you rather than know about you.

“That seems like a whole adventure” They smiled, “And when was the last time you saw Ash before deciding to come and stay with him?”

It wasn’t that long ago, a year or so earlier, when you gave a secret concert in London when you released your last album. He was standing in the corner, smiling at you as you sang. It was the first time since you told him you were moving a couple of years prior. You both kept following each other on social media, but that was pretty much it when it came to your relationship. And you were good with it.

You knew they were in the U.K for their tour, Michael and Crystal had asked you for drinks during that same week and you had a great time catching up. So, against your mind’s warning, you started to hope you would run to him soon enough. And when he appeared at the concert, you couldn’t help but smile back.

Afterwards, when you were back in the green room, you asked if he was still out there and to invite him over to chat. But no one from your team saw him; apparently he was already gone by the time you went off the stage. You remember waiting until you went home to allow yourself to cry, even for just a few minutes. That small interaction that seemingly never happened opened the wound back again. And, if you were honest with yourself, that was one of the main reasons why you decided to take on his offer to stay with him. But you didn’t say that.

“I don’t know,” You told them instead, as your eyes landed on Ashton standing a few feet away from you, a lighted joint between his lips as he laughed with people that you haven’t seen before “Since I moved to Scotland, I think. A while before, probably”

If Laura saw the sadness in your eyes, they never mentioned it. They just said “Okay, I think you should be a little bit drunker, my friend”

Hours later you were alone and tipsy sitting at the front porch of Andrew’s home, nursing a cigarette between your fingers.

“I didn’t know you smoked” A voice came from behind you.

You sighed, putting the filter in between your lips and taking a long hit before you let the smoke get lost into the night.

“You’re mad.” Ashton said, sitting next to you

“And you’re high”

“So we’re both telling the truth tonight” He chuckled, you didn’t “When did you pick up this habit?”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly. “It was better than drinking myself to death back in Australia. It helps with my anxiety”

“What do you-”

“Alcohol makes you fat.” You deadpanned as you took another hit “I didn’t want my mom to have yet another reason for her nagging”

“Y/N-”

“But she’s not here so,” You passed him your empty cup, still not looking at him “Bring me another one, please?”

Ashton sighed “I think you had enough,”

“You will just never stop making decisions for me, are you?” You stood up, killing the cigarette after one last blow “I know what I’m doing, Ash. I’m a fucking adult, if you haven’t realized. I don’t need you to tell me what to do”

His eyes widened. He parted his lips as if to say something, looking over his shoulder back at the party. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t worry, your friends can’t listen to what I’m saying. Your reputation will still be intact and they will still love everything that comes out of your mouth”

“Hey,” Ashton said with a bit of a bark “Don’t talk about them like that”

You pressed your lips on a tight smile, looking at him as your eyes filled with tears. You couldn’t believe that he was defending them like that from just a simple comment, but left you completely alone when they were making worse comments at you.

“Fuck, Y/N” He said, frustrated “I’m trying here, you know? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! You don’t want to talk to me, you moved across the world. You still talk to the guys-”

“They’re my friends,”

“I was your friend too!” He shouted, surprising you “And I want this to work. I want you here, with me. But if you don’t want to be here and go back to your fucking hotel- I want us to work!”

“Why am I here, Ash?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I just wanted you to meet a few people, celebrate your new album-”

“Yet none of them cared to get to know me, nor you to introduce me and actually wanting to celebrate with me” You took a deep breath and sighed “Give me the keys to the house, I want to leave”

Ashton shook his head.

“You’re angry. I get that”

“No, Ash. I’m tired and I want to go to bed” You said more firmly this time “Give me the keys and I’ll call an Uber”

“I’ll take you!”

“The fuck you aren’t” You laughed, not a hint of humor in your voice “You’re high with more than just weed apparently. I’m drunk. I would rather not fucking die tonight, thank you”

“I’m not going to-”

“I don’t want you to! Okay? Fuck, Ash! I don’t feel safe around you!”

You saw the ways his eyes changed, how hurt they looked so suddenly at your words. You knew you wounded him, but it was how you felt. You didn’t trust him, not tonight.

“Y/N…” He said, getting up and walking over to you but you took a step back. He sighed, roaming around his pockets before he found his keys and gave them to you “Text me when you get there, leave the keys by the potted tree”

You answered him with a nod and a small thank you. You didn’t watch him as he turned away and walked by to the house. You didn’t hear Laura, who was watching over from the window, tell him:

“I don’t know what you did, man. But I’ve never seen anyone with such sadness in her eyes”

Damn, who are we right now? Can we have a little conversation? Figure it out with no intoxication We carry on, what is our motivation?

You woke up when you heard footsteps outside of your door. You knew it was him waiting outside, probably debating on whether or not to knock on your door, wanting to talk. There were times in the past where he would just open the door to your room and sit down on the floor next to your bed, waiting for you to start talking or acknowledge him so that he could apologize or talk things through. Sometimes you didn’t need to say anything, you just understood each other. And as he walked away without a word, you wondered where did all those times go?

Where was the friend that would go out with you and wait on the street for a cab to take you home, no matter whom he was with or what you were doing. Where was the friend that when you snuck out to your first concert, he held you close by the waist and covered your body so that none of the beer that people were throwing around got into your clothes or hair. What happened to the friend that would stay awake chatting with you on the phone even though you had an exam early the next morning, all because the guy you liked broke your heart.

Tears rolled down your face as you tossed and turned on the bed. It wasn’t fair, your heart kept begging your brain to understand. It wasn’t fair that you had to lose it all without a warning.

Once upon a time, you thought you had it all as long as Ashton was there. Now, you begin to miss the times where he wasn’t. Times where you learned to be happy without him, where you didn’t need him or his approval. Times where you felt complete even though your best friend was not around anymore. You were better off without him, and learned to live without him. You knew that to be the truth. But one just can’t ignore the past and the mystery of how the person that makes you feel such horrible things about yourself once promised to give you the world and its stars and meant it.

You just couldn’t figure it out. So you just forced yourself to go back to sleep.

When you woke up again a few hours later and made your way to the kitchen, you found freshly made coffee and bagels waiting for you on the counter with a little note next to them:

“I’m sorry, can we talk about it later? XX Ash”

You sighed as you wiped out the tears that clung to your eyelashes. You took a sip of the coffee and found comfort in the heat of the mug.

On the other side of town, Ashton was doing the same thing. His eyes were covered behind dark sunglasses as he thought of what to say once he got home. In front of him, Calum can’t say that he’s impressed from what he’s heard.

“What’s your deal?” He asked his friend.

“I- I don’t know” Ashton answered, biting the inside of his cheek “I thought she would have a good time. She was always cool at coming to those types of parties with me back home, we used to have fun”

“You and I both know she hates parties, and back home she had you. The normal, probably tipsy you, to keep her company” Calum said, taking a bite out of his sandwich “Last week I found her sitting alone while the rest of the world was having a conversation around her. We talked and it was nice, she’s not normally that outgoing on the get-go. She never was”

“You saw her last week?”

“We were invited to Gabriel’s cocktail party. You didn’t want to go, as usual”

“You never told me that-”

“What? That we’re still in contact? Dude, we all talk to her from time to time. We mention her in our conversations every now and then. She’s still our friend”

Ashton sighed, “So she just hates me for no reason?”

“You truly think that Y/N L/N could hate you?” Calum chuckled, “That girl would’ve followed you straight to the end of the world back in Aus. As far as I know, there’s only one person she truly hated”

“Who?” Ashton scoffed “I’m pretty sure our politics teacher was not so bad”

“What? No, Ash-” Calum shook his head “Remember when-” His face went blank “Oh shit,”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?”

Tell me that it's all okay You ruined everything good I've been waitin' on this all damn day Always said you were misunderstood Call me in the morning', tell me how last night went I'm here, but don't count on me to Just fucking leave me alone

He found you sitting outside in one of his garden chairs. A cigarette was hanging from your fingertips as the ashes fell on the floor in a small pile. You didn’t look back at him, for your eyes were staring at the moon that decorated the sky with its beauty.

You felt him come outside and sit on the chair next to you. The sound of a lighter made you blink, and you sighed at his exhale. There was no way he was doing this sober, and you couldn’t blame him. Yet…

“I was hoping we could talk without any of that” You said. “You have your ways and I have mines”

Silence fell over the two of you once again. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your profile, but you didn’t have the courage to look at him just yet.

“When did I stop being your best friend?” He asked.

Tears quickly covered your eyes and you hated that. “Probably around the time when you stopped being mine”

“Y/N-”

“You held me, once. Not the usual hugs that we gave each other, no. This one was different. We were at school, an overnight vigil that the nuns made us do every year”

“Those were fun,” He commented “A huge sleepover at school”

“The theme was about lost ones, remember? I had just lost my grandma that past week”

“I wasn’t at the funeral, I was away on a trip to the city. She was the one that taught you how to bake”

“Yeah,” You chuckled. “Though, I was never good at it once she passed. Anyway, of course I started crying. I’ve already lost so many people back then, and I was barely hanging on. But then - then you held me, so tightly. And my tears left a damp stamp on your shirt. You cradled me and brushed my hair with your fingers and whispered “It’ll be okay, you can cry. It’s okay” and kissed my head as they started to sing. You sang as well and never said a thing about it afterwards. That was the moment I knew I couldn’t have loved you more”

The sound of a cricket broke your monologue, and you allowed yourselves to be fed into the sounds of nature for a while. You knew there were still things left unsaid, so you better get over with it now rather than later. You didn’t want to stay for the aftermath.

“Remember the first time you came back to Australia? I was still living there in the house we grew up in. I was having a shitty day at work, so I went to grab a coffee at our favorite coffee shop with other coworkers when a few of our old friends and classmates came through the door. We said our hellos and caught up, it was nice. Then they had to go. “Who’s coming with me to Ash’s house?” One of them said. I remember asking about it as they argued over who had to take the bus or a cab. They told me you were coming back that day and have invited people over to celebrate”

“Y/N,”

“You invited them. Even people I didn’t know that well and that I know for a fact didn’t know you as well. And don’t try to tell me it was a guys thing, cause you invited girl classmates as well”

Ashton opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out. “I was numb as I took a taxi home. I still remember that the radio played “Waiting for Superman” as I tried my hardest not to cry. But when I got into the kitchen, I just couldn’t stop. I cried myself to sleep that night knowing that you were just a door away but didn’t want me there”

“Y/N, I wanted you there” He said, putting his hand on your arm as he leaned closer “I - I know I can’t say anything to fix it now but- I missed you, too”

“It didn’t seem like it” You told him “Every time I learned something about you back then was through a story or a tweet. I learned through the paparazzi who you were with and in which city you were going to sleep next. I saw you living your best life with your friends away from home. And, I get it, we both resented that place and all that we suffered while we were there. I just - I just hoped that my memory was something worth saving, cause my memory of you always was and will always be the best thing that’s happened to me while we were there”

You turned to him and looked him in the eyes “It just hurt to know that while I put you on a pedestal, I was already out of your sight”

“Baby, you know that’s not true” You scoffed “I swear! In my memory, you were always there! Front of the line!”

“Then why-?”

“I was scared, okay?!” He shouted, lowering his eyes in shame “So fucking scared and it’s so stupid!”

“Scared of what?!” You shouted back, willing for him to look you in the eyes “Ashton, for god’s sake just tell me!”

“They told me that you liked me!”

For a moment time stood still. You backed away from him as his words started to make sense. You pulled away your arm, letting his hand grasp the space that you left between the two of you.

“What?”

“People started whispering,” He said, his voice broken as if he were crying “Telling me how good of a couple we could be. How happy you were with me and how in love you looked”

“When was it?”

“At the beginning of our senior year” Ashton admitted, ashamed “I- I already knew that I wanted to get out of Australia. I knew that with the guys we could take the band somewhere massive. So I put my whole soul into it, trying to escape the feelings that would pull me back”

“You thought I was pulling you back” You stated, betrayed.

“No! I was pulling myself back by thinking about it!” Ashton said, finally looking at you and hating the way you were looking at him “I couldn’t risk it”

“Couldn’t risk what?! That I could have feelings for you?!” You stood up “You’re unbelievable! You could’ve asked me! Come to me instead of running away and make me lose part of myself in the process. Parts that I can’t take back, that I can’t love back because of you”

“Y/N!” He tried reaching out to you, but you took a step back.

“No!”

“Y/N, please! Just-!”

He grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you to him. The movement made you lose your balance, tripping over your feet as Ashton maneuvered you to land on top of his lap, holding you by your waist.

The sudden proximity made you lose all the air inside your lungs as you looked at him and his hazel eyes surrounded by red. He looked desperate, pleading with his eyes for something you couldn’t understand. He was breathing hard, his chest colliding against yours where your heartbeats were going as fast as your thoughts. Almost impossible to catch up.

Then, almost without thinking, Ashton launched himself forward and pressed his lips on yours.

The softness of the kiss contrasted the chills that ran up and down your bodies. As you gasped for air, his hand came to tangle itself on your hair, pulling you closer to him as you allowed him to deepen the kiss. He sat back on the chair and pulled you with him, making your legs spread at either side of his hips; never once letting you go as he kissed you over and over again, like a man deprived of something more.

“Y/N,” He whimpered against your lips, making you sigh as his hands roamed your body until they landed on your hips, moving them against lower half “Y/N, please”

Your mind was clouded in smoke, feeling the heat of his kiss along the length of your neck. His words whispered your name, as his movements on your hips became erratic, letting you feel all of him under you.

“Please, please Y/N” He said, kissing and kissing and kissing every part he could find “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

Suddenly, you opened your eyes as you jumped back to reality. Putting a hand on his chest and pulling away from him. Both of you were left panting, as your skin tingled from the contact.

Ashton’s eyes were desperate, looking at you in fear of what you might do. His lips - you imagined - were a mirror of yours, plumb and beat red as your name escaped him in the form of a question. You closed your eyes and let a tear fall across your cheek as you shook your head.

“You don’t get to do this to me” Your voice, a whisper.

“What?” He asked, almost out of breath. But you were already getting off him and turning your step back to the house.

“You don’t get to do this to me!” You yelled through the tears “You don’t get to confuse me all over again. You don’t get to have a half-ass apology followed by a kiss that would make it all better!” You turned to him, poking a finger on his chest “You don’t get to make me hate myself all over again for loving you when you didn’t think it was convenient for you!”

“Y/N!” Ashton pleaded, taking your hand in his before you yanked it away “I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking-!”

“Exactly! You weren’t thinking! You never, not once, thought of me during all of this. Fucking admit it! Trying to get me to come here to patch things up was just such bullshit! You just wanted to make sure that I was still available for you any time you wanted! And don’t say it isn’t fair cause you were not aware of how miserable you made me!”

“That’s not true-”

“Was this just a plot to get me to bed?! Is that what you think of me now?!”

“It’s not true!” Ashton yelled “I know I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry! I should’ve never-! Look, I want to patch things up. You were right, goddammit, Y/N, you were right! It took me a long time to realize and fuck! After you moved away I was fucking miserable as well! I- I failed you”

You stood there in front of him, crying silently as he paced desperately.

“Ashton,” You called to him “Ashton, why am I here?”

Suddenly, he stopped and looked at you “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“For fuck’s- About the fact that you were abused, Y/N!” He yelled, leaving you speechless “Right after I left! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

You swallowed hard “It was none of your business-”

“You told Calum” He accused “You told Calum and you never told me. Why? Maybe it was not just me who was a shitty friend to you, after all, if you were going to keep things like that from me”

“How fucking dare you, Ashton Irwin. How fucking dare you?” You pushed him away “I told Calum by mistake! I didn’t mean to do it and it was years after it happened. And because I didn’t think you would care!”

“What?” He broke down, putting his hands on his knees for balance as he looked at you in tears “How- Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” You cried “Just like you said, you had big dreams and a massive opportunity and I was just going to pull you back. Ashton, you just justified everything I thought it was true with that sentence”

“Y/N-”

“Do you think I had a good time? Knowing that my best friend, the only person I cared about in the world didn’t give a fuck about me to even ask how I was doing? So if you really wanna know… I don’t relate to you anymore. I don’t. I don’t want to think about what we had anymore because it just makes me fucking sad. I thought the world of you. Ash, you were my everything. I loved you, as a friend. I loved you, as the sun loves the moon even when it’s gone. I loved you with every prayer, every pleading, every move I made was for that one day I could be with you again, anyway that you would have me. I would’ve died a thousand times next to you, just as long as you kept me company. I didn’t care about what could happen to me. And when something happened, I tried to spare you from it, even when you never once asked. Fuck! I moved to L.A and this is the first time I’ve been in your house!”

“That’s-”

“I wish I could explain it better, I wish it wasn’t true. I wish we could’ve resolved this somehow, but let’s be honest. There is no bridge to burn when we're already so far away. And those memories? From all those years back? Now it all feels like a lie and don’t you dare say otherwise. You’re not the person I once knew, Ash. The person I once knew would’ve never invited me here to leave me alone at a party with people I don’t know, saying a cute lie about how it was for me when in reality it was to make you look a certain way. The person I once knew would’ve never made me feel like nothing every time we were at an event together and you couldn’t even say hi. The person I once knew would’ve never let their “friends” disrespect me in any way. The Ashton I knew wouldn’t have tried to make me feel sad. He wouldn’t have made me so miserable to be in my own skin because they’re not brave enough to face the music he so highly speaks about. You never once showed support for what I do once I became my own person. You never once called to ask how I was. You never once believed in me as much as I believed in you. You made me hate this city. But even more, you made me hate everything I used to love about us. Now I meet someone new and wondered if it’ll be like what we had. You ruined me, Ash. And you never apologized for it”

Ashton was shaking his head, crying as he listened to what you had to say.

After you had your feelings heard, you didn’t walk away or ran through the door so that you could escape the aftermath like you did back in December all those years ago. You were not going to run away again. Not when your heart finally felt light from all the things you’ve been carrying.

You and Ashton cried in silence, each one at one side of the room.

The two of you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened and why did it end up like this? You could play the blaming game; pretend this never happened; you could walk out and never see each other again; or, you could just stand there, waiting, digesting the sour words that fell from both your lips and think, think of anything that could be saved.

“What are we going to do?” Ashton finally asked, voice hoarse from the crying.

“I don’t know,” You answered in all honesty “It’s like we only play to lose”

“Every time,” He said, looking at you and giving a small chuckle. “Every time I see you it just hurts. Not for anything you’ve done, but for everything that I could’ve done but didn’t”

“Maybe it was for the best to have it end this way”

“But… I don’t want it to.” Ashton admitted in a whisper “Now that you’re here… I kept on failing cause I wanted to prove to myself that I still knew you”

You laughed “Who are we, Ash?” you asked “A girl that chases over the past and a boy with the excuse?”

“How the hell we’re going to make it?”

“Maybe we don’t” You shrugged “Maybe we’re just meant to be passing figures on the street. People we once knew. We can’t go back from this, Ash, and you know it. We’re just going to keep hurting each other”

Ashton nodded, walking over to you as you let yourself be embraced by a hug.

“I love you, Y/N. I will always love you”

“Terribly” You murmured against his chest “I will love you all my life, Ash. And I’ll miss you forever”

“Tell me that it’ll be okay? Please?”

You smiled and placed a small kiss on his chest, and held him tighter. And he knew.

He knew.

*

*

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[louisupdates]

ROLLING STONE UK

Exclusive: previously unseen pictures show the quiet, cool style of Louis Tomlinson

We take a look at the casual, cold style of Louis Tomlinson, with exclusive images from his tour.

By JOSEPH KACHARIAN | 16 MAY 2023 3:18 PM

The alumni of One Direction have flourished since going solo, and along with their distinct music style, they’ve each forged their own personal style. Whilst Zayn likes a metallic flash with Versace and collaborating on embellished accessories, Niall has embraced the his U.S centric fanbase – opting for collegiate-cool – and crafty-folksy-maximalism has found Harry Styles, it’s Louis Tomlinson’s wardrobe that’s piqued our interest of late.

We’ve been able to take a good look at the singer as he traverses the globe on his Faith in the Future world tour and the film premiere trail for his documentary All of Those Voices. Louis’ stylist, Helen Seamons has tapped into lad culture, blending it with fashion, with football shirts, oversized Burberry checks, and bespoke Carlsberg motif knits from Adam Jones, that give a fresh take on nostalgia. There is a playfulness to the bolder pieces that the singer wears, that both modernises and also references the Brit pop icon era of Blur and Oasis, with touches of streetwear from Adidas, smiley motifs from Raf Simons and and the trusty Brit-pop staple, the polo shirt. Quite fitting as Louis scored a number one on the UK charts for his album Faith in the Future late last year.

Louis wearing Burberry for his Australia show (Image provided/Photographer: Charlie Lightening)

Louis wearing Denzil Patrick for the L.A Premiere of All those Voices (Image provided: Exclusive to Rolling Stone UK/Photography Joshua Halling)

Louis wearing Neil Barrett in Tokyo premiere of All of Those Voices (Image provided/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

In terms of the the polo shirt, the devil is in the detail. Louis loves a polo, but he knows he can’t just bring out the Fred Perry when on tour, his fans wouldn’t allow it. Working with Seamons, Louis has cultivated a tactile, super-lux wardrobe with knitted pieces from Denzil Patrick, Dries Van Noten mesh, Balmain prints and heritage collegiate Bode that give a louder aesthetic on stage. This subtle, detailed-orientation flows through into the formalwear, with intricate Bottega Veneta shirts, suits from one of his trusty favourites, Neil Barrett and metal clasped Givenchy suits. Keeping his wardrobe authentic to himself, the suits are paired with monochrome tank and tee and sometimes trainers, to ensure that the look is effortless yet casual. It’s a clean style. We hate using the word ‘quiet’ when paired with fashion (Succession bore the brunt of the internet for suggesting their bog-standard wardrobe was ‘quiet luxury’) but here, there is a case for it. Louis style isn’t over the top, but it’s carefully detailed and considered and very cool.

Top: Louis wearing Givenchy for the London premiere of All of Those Voices (Image provided/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

Bottom: Louis performing in Bottega Veneta in Mexico (Image provided: Exclusive to Rolling Stone UK/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

Top: Louis performing in Adidas in Mexico (Image provided/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

Bottom: Louis wears Balmain in Milan (Image provided/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

Top: Louis performing in Raf Simons in Paraguay (Image provided/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

Bottom: Louis performing in Bottega Veneta in Mexico (Image provided: Exclusivel for Rolling Stone UK/Photographer: Joshua Halling)

[darkwitchhideout]

Taylor swift: Through all the damned seasons

Taylor Swift has emerged as one of her generation’s most prolific and authentic music artists. Swift’s rise to fame however, has been marked with numerous challenges — from facing misogyny from within the music industry to battling over ownership of her own work.

Recently, a very casual tweet of mine got traction from very unfortunate ends of the internet; one that loves to berate women over breathing, let alone having an opinion. To paraphrase, I had raised a proposition: “I think it is perhaps somewhat of a red flag when a man violently hates your interests, especially music. It is one thing to not hold regard for something and another to grow violent and spiteful in that dislike, or look down on you. And yes– this is related to men who will act high and mighty when you state your love for Taylor Swift’s music.” The response was extremely divided — mostwomen vehemently agreed that they had suffered through misogynistic encounters based on their likes and dislikes, and most men vehemently denied that any such discourse was significant. I muted the tweet because it was swarming with people, more specifically, men, telling me I was childish and immature, and that Taylor Swift made generic breakup music and deserved to be berated– as did I, for listening to her. Well… the shoe unquestionably fits the (un)intended audience here.

For anyone who spent much of their teens and now their adulthood listening to Taylor, you know it’s nothing new to get a scoffing remark over. “Come on? Her? All she does is date people, break up with them, and use it as an excuse to make shitty music.” Trust me, it sets your nerves alight to be near a music elitist, especially one that merely seems to berate music that is popular amongst young women in specific to give themselves a masculine ego boost for days. And Taylor herself is no stranger to misogyny in the music industry, excruciating controversies and very publicised feuds at merely the cusp of her adulthood– yet, she has always risen and resurrected herself as a person and an artist, continuing to grow.

Misogyny is rife in the music industry, and always has been. The time Taylor debuted, around 2006, and her rise to fame with her second album Fearless in 2008, was marked by a wider sociopolitical landscape for women that was very different. The industry was ages more exploitative than what we see now, and the social climate allowed it to be so. There was also a noticeable lack of female representation in key decision-making roles within the industry, such as producers, executives, and managers. This lack of representation perpetuated gender biases and made it difficult for female artists to advocate for their rights and creative visions.

Taylor herself has faced numerous instances of such attacks. She started her career in the early 2000s. Tabloids were horrible — I stumbled on a 2007 article from Kathleen Devon titled “Girls Gone Bad: Celebs and Kids.” To quote a segment from it that took me back to the good old era of flip phones and low-rise jeans: “Are we raising a generation of what one L.A. mom calls “prosti-tots,” young girls who dress like tarts, live for Dolce & Gabbana purses and can neither spell nor define such words as “adequate”?” That rancid air of ice-cold 2000s misogyny hit me right in the face. The article goes on to lament the love young girls have for Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, and how it is desecrating “sex, love and lasting commitment.” This is the environment Taylor stepped into.

She stepped foot into the industry with country music in her debut album, working with the Nashville Music Row songwriters. The country music industry had a noticeable gender imbalance with a predominantly male-dominated industry. Female artists often had to fight harder for recognition and airplay. However, when she moved away from this genre, she faced angry music listeners and country music enthusiasts blaming her for “abandoning” what had given her the fame she had.

The most popularised of the misogynistic tirade, however (that still has no lack of memes circulating around the internet) was 2009, when her music video for “You Belong with Me” was named Best Female Video at the MTV Video Music Awards. Her acceptance speech was interrupted by rapper and musician, Kanye West, who stepped on stage, snatched the microphone from her, and said: “Yo, Taylor, I’m really happy for you, I’mma let you finish, but Beyoncé had one of the best videos of all time! One of the best videos of all time!”, in reference to Beyonce’s “All the Single Ladies.” Taylor was 19 at the time- a very young girl, relentlessly bullied by peers that were supposed to be her guiding light. However, when Beyoncé won Video of the Year for “Single Ladies” later in the show, she called Taylor Swift back on stage to finish her speech.

This feud continued on, having highs and lows, and almost always seemed like a bemusing one-sided attempt. In February of 2015, Kanye spoke to Ryan Seacrest about a possible collaboration with Taylor and said: “Any artist with an amazing point of view, perspective, fanbase, I’m down to get in the studio and work. I don’t discriminate,” and merely a year later, put out the song “Famous” which takes a dig at her and explicitly says, “I made that bitch famous.”

A confessional poet, especially confessional poets that are women, are incessantly scrutinised. They have revealed what they want to, through symbols and metaphors, in their work. It’s all there for someone to find solace in; yet we need to know more because we think she owes us an explanation about her life. We think we can love her, hate her, dissect her, scrutinise her, because she has allowed us a window into her life.

I am in no denial of Kanye’s musical prowess as a rap artist; I have enjoyed his music for years and “My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy” is a revolutionary, genre-bending work. However, to claim he is the key to Taylor’s success is confusing at best and disrespectful at most. There is a lot more to this feud, including a social media campaign against Taylor, a leaked phone call from Kanye West’s (now-ex) wife, Kim Kardashian, a naked sculpture of Taylor Swift featuring in Kanye’s music video (without Taylor’s consent — she later termed it revenge pornography) and as of the complete leaked call in 2020, which proved that the young Taylor laughing nervously when she was told about the song and saying she needs to “think about it because it is absolutely crazy.”

Taylor however, faced the misogynistic tirade through the years without allowing herself to be ostracised — she empowered herself, and insistently resurrected herself as an artist. In her acceptance speech for the Grammys in 2016, she told the audience: “I want to say to all the young women out there, there are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame… someday when you get where you’re going, you’ll look around and you will know that it was you and the people who love you that put you out there…” As a young, rising artist, she did deal with the event with none of the grace she owed her bullies, and she has been very vocal about gender equality, the Roe vs Wadeoverturn and about not shaming women for their personal life in light of what she has faced in her personal life and how it impacted it.

Then there is the issue of the media’s insistent fixation on her love life — it is not only pervasive, but also invasive. Every song that she would come forward with would be listened to so the listeners could find some symbolic representations of her trysts and scream, “See! This is a woman that is serial dating to include these poor, victimised men in her songs!” Gossip columns loved to know about her life, paparazzi hounded her, and her life was incessantly torn apart to become tabloid fodder. This reminded me of when I did my research on Plath, Sexton and other confessional poets — their experiences with uncomfortable questions by reporters that probed them to reveal more. A confessional poet, especially confessional poets that are women, are incessantly scrutinised. They have revealed what they want to, through symbols and metaphors, in their work. It’s all there for someone to find solace in; yet we need to know more because we think she owes us an explanation about her life. We think we can love her, hate her, dissect her, scrutinise her, because she has allowed us a window into her life. Now we must climb in and rummage her personhood instead of being spectators to what she has allowed us a glimpse into.

I wonder how Taylor felt — this young girl, stepping into an industry and being welcomed with rigid, patriarchal structures, and being constantly objectified like an antique shop curio — her love life seemed to overshadow her accomplishments as a singer-songwriter. It reinforced the idea that a woman’s worth is tied to her romantic relationships rather than her talent or achievements. Meanwhile, her male contemporaries got a clap on the back and cheered on. It’s almost as if dating women for men is conquest, and for women, is disgrace.

If you were on Tumblr, you might remember a very specific GIF that gained traction amongst feminist circles, regardless of whether they listened to Taylor or not. An interviewer asks Taylor why would a man want to date her if he knows she will write songs about them as jabs later on? She aptly replies: “…I’d just figure that if guys don’t want me to write bad songs about them, they shouldn’t do bad things.” As a poet myself, I have faced that lingering question.

You fell in love and wrote a book about it? Think about the man; he will forever be haunted by the fact that a girl immortalised that relationship in the form of writing. Well, if he didn’t want me to write about it, perhaps he shouldn’t have given me the words to put that humiliation into words. Comme ci, comme ça.

However, this is not a trajectory of the insistent harassment Taylor has put up with — this is also to see how that impacted her music and made her grow as an incredible artist, capable of exploring multiple genres. She has herself described her artistry as being a “music chameleon.” She self-identified as a country musician until 2012, when she released her fourth studio album, Red. After her success with pop and releasing albums in that genre, she stepped into experimenting with indie-folk and indie-pop — mild, subdued and emotionally evocative in “folklore” and “evermore.” With her latest release, “Midnights” in 2022, she goes back to pop but in an experimental tone — it is subtle, nebulous and mellow. Clash magazine commented on her career as being “one of transcendence and covert boundary-pushing.” Taylor cannot be boxed into a genre — she is just her own identity with her own ideas. What makes her artistry so special, however, is her lyrical ability. It is as if her lyrics trudge their own pathway to find their sound, rather than the other way around, and perhaps that is what makes her music resonate so deeply.

My favourite Taylor albums have to be a tie between “folklore” and “evermore” — in a piece titled “Growing Sideways” by Stephanie Burt and Julia Harris, they write, aptly: “The Taylor Swift of evermore is our pop Heraclitus: nothing here happens for the first time, everything’s a return to something, a rewrite, a re-take, a retraction, a chance to remember and do it again.”

It also means a lot to me because she takes back from the tabloids and paparazzi who hound her lyrics for trinkets of her romantic flames and instead carve out an entirely new pathway of story-telling through her songs. Her grief and loss become theirs, her angst is emulated through these figures, and they stand as a testament of her creativity. In “Bad Songs About Bad Things”, Summer Kim Lee gives Taylor’s narrative pathway in these albums a vivid description: “Writing is revenge without the need to ask for permission or apology… ethics is pushed aside for the political act of refusing to give in to gendered expectations… The personal is political…in folklore and evermore, Swift creates characters from which to write stories other than her own… seek out the fantasy of the folkloric rather than empowerment through the exposure of herself and others.”

It is as if Taylor stepped back from the idea of dissecting her own life and instead conned in on intimacy, relationships, and personhood from the viewpoint of a by-stander, and sometimes, a stranger stepping into another’s shoes and becoming imbued in their trajectory. This is what makes it haunting and charming at the same time.

However, while Taylor recorded her albums, she was also battling with Scooter Braun over his 2019 purchase of Big Machine Records, which effectively gave him ownership over Swift’s masters — which tied in with his affiliation with the Wests. Taylor vehemently opposed Braun’s “manipulative” bullying, and the fact that her unreleased work was released without her consent, as well as him profiting off her masters without a dime going to Swift herself. She then re-released her recorded albums to gain back ownership over them — Fearless (Taylor’s Version) and Red (Taylor’s Version) in 2021 and Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) in 2023. All three peaked atop the Billboard 200, becoming the first ever re-recorded albums to do so. She opened up the industry to conversations about artists’ rights, the ethics of ownership of creative rights and intellectual property and for artists to negotiate for greater ownership of their music.

It is her authenticity that cultivates a sense of community — her vulnerability and openness in addressing both triumphs and tribulations in her life allow others to feel seen and understood.

I do sometimes come across the question, or question myself — why do so many women from so many different ethnicities and cultures and differing values find solace in Taylor’s music; a white woman penning down her experiences in her life? It took me back to the time I stood in my university’s restrooms after a tiring day, washing my face and someone played “exile” as they re-did their makeup. We all looked at each other with little grins as soon as we heard the first lyric, a sense of bonding and sisterhood. One of the girls’ spoke up about not having face wash and being annoyed — and despite my own nervousness with social contact, I handed her my bottle and we again smiled at each other. It’s all the little things that make up the joy of being a woman.

I think it is because she does not overstep her boundaries — her experiences are her own and she puts them forward to validate them and anyone else who may find solace in them, rendering her in a position where she does not overstep her boundaries. Summer Kim Lee, in “Bad Songs About Bad Things”, quotes Jean-Thomas Tremblay, who in an essay on New Narrative, describes it as “the assumption that impersonality, once intensified, will turn into commonality.”

It is her authenticity that cultivates a sense of community — her vulnerability and openness in addressing both triumphs and tribulations in her life allow others to feel seen and understood. She also stands as an empathetic storyteller, one that is able to vividly capture emotions and experiences in her lyrics allowing listeners to connect with her songs. This allows her to transcend cultural and racial boundaries and allow her to foster a bond with her listeners that transcends geographical boundaries.

I was not a girl that grew up dating or having any romantic affiliations, and still don’t — I always found myself hyper fixated on my career. And yet, Taylor’s music allowed me a glimpse into another life, another time, the ghost of a memory I might have had in another life. This is why her music stands special to me. I, too, was a young girl once that lamented how I wore t-shirts and all the popular girls in high school wore the preppier outfits, and I was not even on the bleachers because who wants to see high school basketball and football? And now it’s listening to Seven, revelling in the fact that all my friends who are women are just like me and that is something to celebrate; because within us, we will always have love and memories of each other because of it. It is realising that I do not want to not be like other women — it is indeed one of the few joys in my life to be just like them, and the only reason a cashew man might term you different is because you’re not the bland caricature of a one-dimensional person they hope to project on you. I am, indeed, wondering if I would “get there quicker if I was a man.”

[hooked-on-elvis]

"Danny" (1958)

FROM THE "KING CREOLE" SOUNDTRACK ALBUM, RELEASED ON SEP. 19, 1958

ELVIS PRESLEY: (1) January 1958, during record session for the soundtrack to the "King Creole" film (Paramount Pictures). (2) "King Creole" photo shoot. Early March 1958.

Written by Fred Wise and Ben Weisman. Recorded for the motion picture King Creole. Recorded February 11, 1958 at Paramount Scoring Stage. Vocals: Elvis and The Jordanaires. Guitar: Scotty Moore, Tiny Timbrell. Bass: Bill Black, Ray Siegel. Drums: D.J. Fontana, Bernie Mattionson, Piano: Dudley Brooks. (Info: elvisthemusic.com)

THE RECORDING SESSION

Soundtrack Recordings for Paramount’s King Creole January 15–16 and 23, 1958 at Radio Recorders and February 11, 1958 at Paramount Soundstage, Hollywood. King Creole gave Elvis his most challenging movie role yet. Based on the Harold Robbins novel A Stone for Danny Fisher, it presented an opportunity to work with the acclaimed Hungarian-born director Michael Curtiz (whose work included Casablanca) and placed Elvis alongside accomplished actors such as Carolyn Jones [as Ronnie, Maxie's mistress], Walter Matthau [as Maxie Fields, the local gangster], and Dean Jagger [as Mr. Fisher, Danny's father]. The music was to be an integral part of this serious and rather dark story of a young singer (in the novel he’d been a boxer) trying to make it in the nightclubs of New Orleans. Traditional New Orleans music had its own very specific African-American roots, and Elvis always pointed to New Orleans R&B (Fats Domino was probably its leading exemplar) as instrumental to his development. But Elvis hadn’t gone over all that well in New Orleans when he appeared there three times in 1955, and the Memphis brand of rock ’n’ roll was very different from the New Orleans tradition. To help create an authentic Dixieland sound, Paramount hired some of L.A.’s best session players for the recording: a four-piece brass section augmented by bass player Ray Siegel, who doubled on tuba. Elvis’s own band was supplemented again by piano player Dudley Brooks, and by a second drummer at an extra recording date later when the complexity and variety of the rhythms proved too much for Bill Black and D. J. [Fontana] to handle. With fourteen musicians in the band, this was by far the largest group Elvis had ever worked with in the studio, but for engineer Thorne Nogar it would be business as usual. Elvis’s support team included Paramount musical director Charles O’Curran as well as Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, who had just signed on as producers for RCA. As Elvis’s favorite writers of the moment they brought material to the session, along with other Elvis Presley Music regulars like Aaron Schroeder and Claude DeMetrius, who sent in two infectious rock ’n’ roll originals. The ever-dependable Ben Weisman and his partner, Fred Wise, came up with “Danny” as a proposed title cut, along with several other new songs.

Excerpt: "Elvis Presley: A Life in Music" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

The Dixieland-flavored King Creole sessions. On January, 1958 Elvis worked on the soundtrack for King Creole at Radio Recorders and at Paramount's Soundstage in Hollywood, CA.

LYRICS — "DANNY" (Fred Wise/Ben Weisman)

My name should be trouble My name should be woe For trouble and heartache Is all that I know But Danny, yes, Danny is my name My life has been empty My heart has been torn It must have been rainy, oh, yeah The night I was born Oh Danny, oh Danny is my name I'm so afraid of tomorrow So tired of today They say that love is the answer But love never came my way I'm writing a letter To someone I know So if you should find it, yes, And if you're alone Oh Danny, yes, Danny is my name Oh Danny, yes, Danny is my name

Elvis Presley as Danny Fisher in scenes from "King Creole" (Paramount Pictures, 1958), directed by Michael Curtiz.

[goombasa]

Youtube Recommendations: Wha Happun?

If you've been around gaming youtube for any length of time, you've probably come across a few videos by one Matt McMuscles, a Canadian youtuber who is mostly known for covering and showing off a lot of more obscure games, primarily fighting games, beat-em-ups, and occasionally RPGs. He was also a part of the (now discontinued) Super Best Friends Play channel, and collaborates with Maximillian Dood and Justin Wong on the fighting game focused Triple K.O. Podcast. The guy does a lot in the video game space on youtube, and is genuinely entertaining with a level of passion and giddyness that I think is kind of missing in a lot of other gaming-centric youtube channels. He's not over the top or anything, but his more down to earth demeanor, combined with actual experience in the industry (he worked as a QA tester for many years) gives him a fun perspective on what he covers.

And among many of his other projects, he's done some informative and investigative work into the industry, talking about the history of certain series, doing deep dives into a single game where he simultaneously walks you through the experience of playing it, start to finish, while also telling you a bit about its development history, and my recommendation today, his investigative show ‘Wha Happun?’

Anything on his channel is worth watching, in my opinion, but Wha Happun is my favorite. It's a series of investigative videos, focusing on a single subject, and taking you through the development process that led to it being, well, either cancelled or not very good. He's covered a lot of heavy hitters like the exhaustive, constantly changing development of ‘Duke Nukem Forever’ and the lie-filled terror of ‘Aliens: Colonial Marines’ (the reveal that the broken AI of that game was basically due to a single missing letter in the game's code in particular made my eyes pop), but he also has covered more obscure or cult games as well, such as “Four Horsemen," “Vex,” and the original version of “Prey 2”, recent high profile disasters like the remake of ‘Saints’ Row' or the GTA collection or ‘Gollum’.

From games to movies to consoles, whether it turned out good or not, Wha Happun goes through the history and minutae that led to it being the way that it was, and what it took to get there, paying specially attention to how the various high profile names on the projects behaved, and how the staff was treated during its development. A lot of his ire in the ‘L.A. Noir’ is directed at Brendan McNarmara for his constant and consistent abuse of his staff while shifting blame away from himself at every turn, for example. And he goes out of his way to get information and quotations from people who worked on the game at the time, which helps to lend the videos more authenticity rather than just grabbing quotes from, say, Wikipedia.

What I think I love the most about this series is that it really hammers home just how freaking hard it is to get these things made. Whether it's making a game, a movie, or a console, and then doing it all over again and again, there is always something that could potentially hold it up or ruin it, whether it's working with unfamiliar technology, unpleasant people, small budgets, or just unchecked ambition, it's a miracle that this stuff ever sees the light of day, even if the final product isn't what anyone wanted. And sometimes, it doesn't even get that far.

Wha Happun has been running for a long while now (over 200 episodes uploaded over the course of 6 years) and I guarantee that there's at least one episode in that spread that is going to cover something you either care about or have always been really curious about. You can find a full playlist of all the episodes here if you're at all interested, and I'd very much recommend that you peruse it when you have the time. You can also find the link to Matt McMuscles' main channel up at the top of the post, and I'm also going to link to his let's play channel Flophouse Plays because his off-the-cuff  stuff is just as fun as his scripted content.

Recommending Videos

Predator: Concret Jungle: At the time I write this post, this is the most recent video and a good starting point for the typical format that most of the videos follow, walking you through the history of the development of the game, the history of the developers, and the major names that were involved in the development. This one in particular is interesting because of its timing and the license chosen.

Sega Saturn: This isn't the first video done on the troubled history of a particular console, with both the Atari Jaguar and the 3DO being covered before, and the Gamecube being covered just a few episodes later, but I have a bit of a bias for classic Sega, and the Saturn itself is just such an interesting topic, and I think McMuscles explains its history wonderfully.

Daikatana: A lot of the earlier episodes in the series are a lot lighter on details, and also quite a bit shorter. Daikatana however, I feel, is an early episode that is worth going back to because the story of this game is so weird and wild, and its creator, John Romero, is just as interesting to observe as the game he was trying to make.

The Super Mario Brothers Movie:Ho boy, if you ever wanted to know why the 90's Mario movie turned into a bizarre science fiction story, this video lays it all out and discusses at length the various cancelled versions of the movie that we could have had before really get into just what a horror show the filming of the movie was.

Metroid Prime: This is a great example of how even games that are fantastic and beloved can still have had a rough time getting made, and watching this, it really makes you appreciate all the more how good a game like Metroid Prime managed to come out.

TimeSplitters: This is one of the longer episodes, at just under a half hour, but is a great example of how Matt can get really passionate when talking about something that really means a lot to him, or when he's covering something he's particularly disappointed by.

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

Beautiful People 👑

tasiaworld:

Introducing the L.A. Times Envelope Actresses Roundtable: America Ferrera, who appears as a working mother in “Barbie.” Fantasia Barrino, who plays a woman in the Jim Crow South struggling to escape decades of abuse in the musical adaptation of “The Color Purple.” Julianne Moore, who co-stars in “May December,” about a woman who began a relationship with a 13-year-old boy when she was 36 - and later married him. Eve Hewson, who stars in “Flora and Son,” a Dublin-set film about a single mom who finds her voice while taking online guitar lessons from a charming L.A. musician. Emily Blunt, who portrays the fierce wife of “the father of the atomic bomb” in “Oppenheimer.” Sandra Hüller, the German actress in two talked-about films this fall - “Anatomy of a Fall, about a woman suspected of murdering her husband, and “The Zone of Interest,” as the uncaring wife of the Auschwitz death camp commandant. The actresses shared their fears about artificial intelligence impacting the industry, what they love - and hate - about their jobs and which director has a “no Uggs on set” policy with Times host @amykinla Read their full conversation at the link in @latimes_entertainment’s bio. • Stream the Envelope Roundtable this Friday at 8pm pst on YouTube.📸: @jason_armond #TheEnvelope #oscars2024 #theoscars

simoneashley:

🏝️💛🦀 @belmondcapjuluca @belmond_lasamanna

samanthairvinwwe:

hump day dump 16

daniebb3:

Oh she cute. 🧸

daniebb3:

A flower in bloom 🌺 Thank you for acknowledging my work as well as our lovely cast and crew of 💜🙏 📸 Wearing dress, shoes

waymanandmicah:

Taraji P Henson on a Wednesday. The Color Purple Press Tour @Acne @Loewe Glam @tymwallacehair @saishabeecham #Waymanandmicah #TarajiPHenson #Loewe #AcneStudios #TheColorPurple #WXM10

essence:

Been Miss Thang, Still Miss Thang! U Should've Known Better than to think we would let this day go by without acknowledging the one and only Monica. We are So Gone over your effortless beauty and talent. For over 30 years, you have showed us that it is okay to be our authentic selves, especially on one of "them days". You are an Angel of Ours and we cherish you! We can keep going on about why We Love You So Much, but for now we will just say - Happy Birthday, @monicadenise! 💜

iamjhud:

✨Daytime Emmys Glam✨

blackmagcovers:

@halima for @graziauk. Hair: @fashionsfaithboutique assisted by @subliemvansylv #halimaaden #blackmagcovers

tasiaworld:

Thanks @cbsmornings @gayleking for having me. The countdown is on for @thecolorpurple to hit theaters Christmas Day!!!! 💜💜💜 📸: @sonejr

samanthairvinwwe:

a holiday affair… #WWERaw

willowwrestles:

Smile anyway

issarae:

Just posing with some legends for @essence. @americanfictionmovie in select theaters now. Photographer: @micaiahcarter Stylist: @solangefranklin Creative Movement Director: @stephengalloway Issa Hair: @felicialeatherwood Issa Makeup: @joannasimkin

essence:

Black sisterhood looks so beautiful on our Jan\Feb cover stars Erika Alexander, Tracee Ellis Ross and Issa Rae. From the breakdowns to the breakthroughs in Black Hollywood, these three actresses have used their talents to fuel us. There was something so special about ‘Living Single,’ ’Girlfriends’ and ‘Insecure.’ They were the master class; a love letter, if you will. Maxine, Joan and Issa have grown into Coraline, Lisa and Sintara. We can’t wait to watch these ladies own the big screen in ‘American Fiction,’ out now in select theaters. Read the full Jan\Feb cover story on ESSENCE.com now and on newsstands December 26! #ESSENCE Credits: Talent: @erikaalexanderthegreat, @issarae & @traceeellisross Photographer: @micaiahcarter Writer: @kimberlynatasha Stylist: @solangefranklin Creative Movement Director: @stephengalloway Erika Alexander Hair & Makeup: @fred4face Erika’s NRAY Locs by Debra Hare-Bey Issa Hair: @felicialeatherwood Issa Makeup: @joannasimkin Tracee Hair: @marciahamilton Tracee Makeup: @mollygreenwald Nails: @nails_by_yoko Set Design: @betteradams Tailor: @costumer.shirlee Retouching: @phtsdr Location: @nyastudios Visual Direction: @_mq______Production: @themorrisongroup

daniebb3:

Go head and call the fire department, cause the fire ain’t out yet baby. 🔥🚨🔥 We are just one week away from sharing @thecolorpurple with the world. Get your tickets NOW!!

[megzeppelinn]

Last weekend I got to see not one, but TWO horror play readings - both written by two of the most riveting, boundary-pushing Los Angeles theatre artists I know - Alexis Roblan and Chelsea Sutton. Ali’s exponentially brutal, actively nightmarish play “Javelina” - about how when an indie horror movie’s writer visits its disquieting Texas set she must confront the wild external and internal violence that moral culpability ignites - was Echo Theatre Company’s inaugural New Play Competition winner. Chelsea’s “I’ll Be Your Villain” - a darkly beautifully gothic type of ghost story about a woman who loses control over her true self as it wrestles with the warping nature of grief, betrayal and exploitation - was a part of Road Theatre’s New Play SlamFest. Women writing horror is not new, but something about the freshly unsettling spiritual provocations of these plays and the dark psychological/sociological screws they’re boldly twisting with their female protagonists’ uncompromisingly, almost terrifyingly authentic self-actualizations is thrilling to me as an audience member and playwright stoked for spooky storytelling and restless for groundbreaking genre vocabularies. While I’ve always loved ghost and gothic stories, it’s only been a year or so that I’ve become obsessed with the cultural impact and resonance of horror movies and specifically the way women are utilized within them. I’m still watching and learning, but in the ones I’ve seen so far the majority of the female characters (if they’re not victims killed off early on) are singularly intuitive in sensing a malignant supernatural entity, and have a hell of a time convincing others (especially their husbands/partners) that their child or loved one is in danger. Their rally cries to stop the ensuing threatening forces are silenced or ignored, so they must confront evil on their own, leading to either a gloriously badass obliteration of this evil, or a somber “I told you so, but no one listened” succumbing to it.

While the plays are uniquely themselves - Ali’s is viscerally unsettling, a masterful construction of a psychological unraveling, Chelsea’s a powerfully haunting, hilariously ominous reflection-myth on what makes a woman “bad,” they are both so compelling/refreshing in that they radically subvert the limiting binary character resolution for women in horror as outright hero or victim by not only dirtily spelunking through its meaning’s mines to unveil monsters of unpalatable moral truths never before made visible through a female lens, but outright upend it by challenging me as a viewer and woman to wrestle with my connection to these monsters and my complicity in their societal dubiousness - disturbing me into wondering what complex horrors I am capable of, but not so pointedly judging me for recognizing those terrible possibilities within me that I poisonously repress them.

I so appreciated that I didn’t feel asked to simply root for or pity the female protagonist, but to see her as someone complex with horrors - the monsters, ghosts and duendes thrashing inside her soul in the human attempt to know itself. That this revelatory storytelling of reenvisioning women in horror is happening in the L.A. theatre space makes me quiver with excitement. Shoutout to the Echo for recognizing/honoring Ali’s brilliant play, and to theatre genius/masterful conjurer of the dark and divine Carly DW Bones’ tender, playful and fearless direction of Chelsea’s play - her brilliance of uplifting the mythic voice is unmatched. Keep an eye out for more Ali and Chelsea radness, and sláinte to more women in horror!

[rockislandadultreads]

Hispanic Heritage Month: Delicious Eats!

Chicano Eats: Recipes from My Mexican-American Kitchen by Esteban Castillo

Esteban Castillo grew up in Santa Ana, California, where more than three-quarters of the population is Latino. Because Mexican food was the foundation of his childhood, he was surprised to see recipes for dishes on popular food blogs that were anything but the traditional meals he grew up eating. He was inspired to create the blog, Chicano Eats, to showcase his love for design, cooking, and culture and provide a space for authentic Latino voices, recipes, and stories to be heard. Building on his blog, Chicano Eats is a bicultural and bilingual cookbook that includes 85 traditional and fusion Mexican recipes as gorgeous to look at as they are sublime to eat. Chicano cuisine is Mexican food made by Chicanos (Mexican Americans) that has been shaped by the communities in the U.S. where they grew up. It is Mexican food that bisects borders and uses a group of traditional ingredients—chiles, beans, tortillas, corn, and tomatillos—and techniques while boldly incorporating many exciting new twists, local ingredients, and influences from other cultures and regions in the United States.

Turnip Greens & Tortillas: A Mexican Chef Spices Up the Southern Kitchen by Eddie Hernandez, Susan Puckett, Angie Mosier (Photographer)

USA Today called Taqueria del Sol “a runaway success.” Bon Appétit wrote: “Move over, Chipotle!” The fast-casual food of Eddie Hernandez, the James Beard-nominated chef/co-owner of the restaurant, lands on the commonalities of Southern and Mexican food, with dishes like Memphis barbecue pork tacos, chicken pot pie served in a “bowl” of a puffed tortilla, turnip greens in “pot likker” spiked with chiles, or the “Eddie Palmer,” sweet tea with a jab of tequila. Eddie never hesitates to break with purists to make food taste better, adding sugar to creamy grits to balance the jalapeños, or substituting tomatillos in fried green tomatoes for a more delicate texture. Throughout, “Eddie’s Way” sidebars show how to make each dish even more special.

Mallmann on Fire: 100 Inspired Recipes to Grill Anytime, Anywhere by Francis Mallmann

“Elemental, fundamental, and delicious” is how Anthony Bourdain describes the trailblazing live-fire cooking of Francis Mallmann. The New York Times called Mallmann’s first book, Seven Fires, “captivating” and “inspiring.” And now, in Mallmann on Fire, the passionate master of the Argentine grill takes us grilling in magical places—in winter’s snow, on mountaintops, on the beach, on the crowded streets of Manhattan, on a deserted island in Patagonia, in Paris, Brooklyn, Bolinas, Brazil—each locale inspiring new discoveries as revealed in 100 recipes for meals both intimate and outsized. We encounter legs of lamb and chicken hung from strings, coal-roasted delicata squash, roasted herbs, a parrillada of many fish, and all sorts of griddled and charred meats, vegetables, and fruits, plus rustic desserts cooked on the chapa and baked in wood-fired ovens. At every stop along the way there is something delicious to eat and a lesson to be learned about slowing down and enjoying the process, not just the result.

Trejo's Tacos: Recipes and Stories from L.A. by Danny Trejo, Hugh Garvey

From the legendary actor and L.A restaurateur comes a cookbook featuring 75 badass recipes, from lowrider donuts and award-winning vegan cauliflower tacos to a sweet and spicy brisket inspired by Danny's mom's barbacoa.

Throughout Danny's life, sharing good food has always been essential--whether it was home-cooked meals made by his mom while imagining the menu for their dream restaurant or whipping up post-wrap celebratory tacos for his Hollywood friends. Now, with his own restaurant empire growing, Danny shares his favorite recipes for bold, fun, and versatile Mexican food by way of L.A. You'll come away with the know-how and skills for cooking slow-braised pork shoulder with bacon and chiles for unbelievably flavorful carnitas, turning spiced fried chicken or Mexi-falafel into tacos and burritos, and how to make cotija and chile mashed potatoes that will impress all your friends (especially when served with brisket!).

The book also includes stories about Danny's lifelong love of food, from the meals his mom made when he was growing up in the San Fernando Valley to a map of his favorite restaurants and hangouts in Los Angeles, how his time in prison led to his acting career and opening a restaurant, and his journey of becoming an AA/NA counselor. Like Danny's restaurants, Trejo's Tacos is generous, hospitable, and symbolic of L.A.'s vibrant Latino culture.

[power-chords]

random mannsgiving question: have you ever written about the art in heat? i've tried googling "why do vincent and justine have a GIANT NAKED MAN in their bedroom", but no dice, lmao. am also v fond of "Painting of a Man with His Face Half Hidden" that justine always purposefully stands in front of, and whatever that not-at-all-symbolic twins/lovers painting is that neil passes at van zant's.

Excuse my incredibly shitty “screenshots.” The HUGE NAKED MAN painting is insane, it’s one of so many details in Mann’s strategic placement of art within the Gustafson home, a structure I am especially fascinated by because it exists specifically to menace Vincent Hanna and to reflect his deepest fears and insecurities back at him.

Is he dying? Is he having an orgasm? It’s difficult to tell, and symbolically, the difference doesn’t actually amount to much, lol. But it is a male figure who looms behind the marital bed, visually duplicating the shadow of the Absent Biological Father, whose existence was just introduced to us with Lauren.

There is of course the painting of the figure next to Justine, whose gaze is cast downward and whose mouth is obscured — he will not look (what should he be looking at?), and he will not speak (to whom, about what?).

My favorite: the kitchen wall! We are being shown that this is Lauren’s art, what is probably a self-portrait, and some pretty bleak foreshadowing: her eyes are red (with rage? From tears?) and her lips are blue, suggesting a cadaver. The rest is hard to see clearly, but there’s pretty obviously a suit, masculine totem of the Profession, hanging there facing the wall, with no one inside it. It's empty. [KILL BILL SIRENS]

WHY ARE THERE DOLL BABIES HANGING FROM THE CEILING? WHAT???

A common motif in Vincent’s associated visuals is black encased in white, or white encased in black: it’s in the house, it’s on his ring, it’s even on his gun (ivory, to mark him as a hunter). He first sees Neil’s face in black and white. He speaks of a dream in which dead bodies accost him with their black eyeballs. There’s too much to pick apart here all at once, but that symbolism of duality and containment, darkness and light that engulfs the other rather than integrating, or that strains to break out, is heavily loaded.

What’s also black and white? A photocopy, usually — at least in 1995! — or a facsimile.

Van Zant also gets some fun black and white decor, and in this case the “bad copy” is a of a colorless jungle, zebra stripes and another naked man (lol) and monochrome plant fronds. The suggestion is of a sterile, inauthentic masculinity-by-proxy, Van Zant thinking he can win a war in the streets against Neil by ordering his cronies to fight it for him, engaging in the kind brute violence he could never endure or enact himself. It is contrasted in the same scene with Neil’s authentic immersion in the gritty, razor-wired jungle of L.A.:

Neil is positioned very frequently next to patches of greenery and nature within the urban matrix, symbolizing this pastoral escapist fantasy for which he yearns, that he has been trying patiently to defer but is tempted by Eady to pursue too fast, too soon. Eady as in Eve, greenery as in a certain garden…

In Van Zant’s house, we see that painting of the Doubles, and there is the suggestion of the Lover but also of the Twin, the Bad Copy. Van Zant is doing under cover of legality and propriety, or the trappings of them, that which Neil and his crew served hard time for by putting their bodies on the line. Breeden’s quote comes to mind: I did hard time for what that motherfucker does every day. When Neil executes Van Zant, he is also raging against that inauthenticity, that fundamental capitalist hypocrisy.

I could go on: the architectural stylings of Chris and Charlene’s house foreshadowing his whole character arc in Heat 2 (no way!), the painting in Eady’s house that is clearly a hand reaching out (ooohhh noooo), that in Mann’s rendition of the iconic Alex Colville painting he makes sure to show us the gun paired with the set of house keys (WOAGH), it just goes on and on. He’s a genius.

[harrelltut]

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[punkysdilemma-blog]

HAUTE SKATE RAT:

There is a look bubbling up all over fashion at the moment that I like to call Haute Skate Rat. I was a skater through my teens and early 20s in the 00′s and I keep seeing these classic signifiers of that period reimagined as refined premium staples. 

The look is sort of Dickies as done by The Row, or Lemaire doing streetwear. The classic work pant becomes Yohji-fied by James Coward in English twill, staple sweats we would have got from Champion or Russell (still made in the USA back then, and bulletproof) have been paired back, washed soft and reimagined by Lady White Co., Danish minimalists like Jan Machenhauer and Berner Kühl are doing late 90s slacker gear in premium double face nylon and Japanese poplin. The L.A. based jeweller Sophie Buhai has done a tough but refined take on the sort of chains that were standard at the time (though similar ones can be copped on the cheap from places like the vintage showroom) 

When it comes to shoes though, despite many attempts, no one is doing it better than vans LX so stick with the original in that case. Do not attempt this look with anything other than thick white sports socks. 

I haven’t included possibly the originator of this look, skater turned pattern maker and designer Evan Kinori but just about everything he makes fits the bill.

1. Berner Kühl Beste Dev. Two Double Sport 009 jacket black $1,625 2. Lady White Co. Textured Full-zip Solid Grey $220 3. Jan Machenhauer Fred shirt $225 4. James Coward straightforward stitch pant $330 5. Sophie Buhai Harvey sterling silver bracelet $1,275 6. Vans Vault Slip On Authentic LX $75