#fuck fact an episode like this led me to actually pass out for a split second and go to the hospital

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

If you are hungry and need to shower, and you have CFS and/or inappropriate sinus tachycardia, always prioritize food over clean. In addition, do not sit down on the shower floor for a little break, that is the devil speaking, you will momentarily lose vision when you stand up causing you to feel even more faint than before. I will not be following my own advice and I will be almost passing out in the shower again in the near future

[pitch-pearl-void]

Anyone interested in a WIP Pitch Pearl series rewrite?

A click resounded off the walls of the dark tunnel. Danny's heart--already racing--shot an extra burst of adrenaline through his system. He spun on his heel and booked it toward the exit. A high-pitched hum began, and his eyes widened. He had reacted so fast because he thought his parents' ghost portal had a ghost haunting it already, but the reality of what was happening set in as the electronic hum grew louder.

The portal was turning on--with him inside.

"Danny?" Sam called, her usual drawl replaced by fear.

Tucker, more tech-savy, skipped fear and latched onto desperation, screaming, "Get out of there!"

The warning would have come too late if Danny hadn't already been on the move.

Green light began to fill the tunnel, but Danny didn't linger to see beyond that initial flare. He leapt forward and landed painfully on his chest outside the tunnel, sliding a few inches across the metal floor.. Something burst from the tunnel, surging above him, pulling at his hair, screeching in his ears. Tucker and Sam screamed his name. Danny pressed himself flat on the floor and didn't dare to so much as breathe. He could feel the burn of electricity singing the side of his face, the only part of his body not protected by the jumpsuit.

It lasted only a few seconds, but even after the energy dissipated from the air and the tunnel's humming was replaced by an odd-sounding song, Danny didn't move--couldn't move. He was paralyzed. Tucker and Sam landed on their knees on either side of him and had to bodily lift him up. Still limp, however, his muscles refusing to respond in any way, he couldn't sit up on his own. He slumped against Sam, but she didn't seem to mind. She wrapped her arms tightly around him. Tucker did the same on Danny's other side, pressing his face into Danny's neck.

Finally, Danny's lungs started working again. He gasped in a breath. And then another. Another. Another.

"Holy shit!" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "I--I--"

"You're okay," Sam said, more to herself than to Danny. "You're okay..."

"I almost died!"

Tucker squeezed Danny tighter. "Don't," he said, his voice thick, strangled, "don't you ever scare me like that again."

"Scare you?" Danny laughed. He lifted his hand. It was trembling so violently he couldn't hold it level. "Holy shit..."

Frightened as he was, Danny was sure he could have remained in his friends' arms, safe and loved for at least an hour, but the odd song behind them altered pitch, and a voice called out, "Um, excuse me, but what the fuck?"

The group hug became rigid.

"Danny," Tucker whispered, "did you say something?"

"My voice doesn't sound like that, Tuck," Danny hissed back.

"I mean, it sort of does. And if you didn't say anything..."

Slowly, Sam and Tucker turned their heads to the side. Danny, his back to the portal, held absolutely still. Whatever his friends saw, they didn't exactly hug him tighter, but Tucker leaned closer and Sam whispered a prayer.

Danny swallowed. "What is it?"

"Uh," Tucker said, "the, uh, the good news is the portal is working!"

Danny sucked in a breath. He wouldn't call that good news. Having a portal that led to the ghost dimension inside his house wasn't something he had been looking forward to, but if that was the good news... "What's the bad news?"

"There's a boy in the portal," Sam answered before Tucker could. "He's just kind of floating there. Inside the portal. But I think he's stuck." She waited a moment, watching the portal--watching the boy--and then her arms relaxed around Danny. "Yeah, I think we're safe. I don't think he can get through."

That was a relief, if true, but Danny needed to see it for himself. He shifted on his knees. Sam and Tucker pulled away, but Danny's legs were still shaky, not quite steady enough to stand on his own. "Um...guys, could you...?"

Danny's friends stood and then reached down, grabbed his hands, and helped Danny climb to his feet, neither one taking their eyes off the portal.

"He kind of looks like you," Tucker whispered.

"Would you stop?" Danny whispered back. "That's gotta be, like, bad luck or something, saying someone looks like a ghost."

"I didn't say you look like a ghost, I said he looks like you."

"Same difference!"

"Guys," Sam hissed.  

Slowly, reluctantly, his heart beating wildly, Danny turned around. The boy inside the portal stared back at him, his head tilted slightly to the side. The portal itself appeared as a swirling green vortex, and in between that vortex and Danny floated the boy. He had raised his hands and seemed to be placing them against...some sort of surface on Danny's side of the portal.

If not for the green vortex, his unnaturally white hair, the acidic green of his eyes, or the fact he had no legs, he could almost pass as a human. Danny had always imagined a ghost would look more...monstrous. Like the turkey and ecto-weenies his parents sometimes brought to life.

This boy had normal-looking human eyes, not the solid green pits Danny had seen before. He wasn't baring sharp teeth at them and he wasn't...doing anything threatening, really. He wore a black t-shirt that sort of floated around his chest, and his hair--cut in the same style as Danny's but a pure bright white--swayed slightly as the boy ghost bobbed up and down.

"See?" Tucker whispered. "He totally looks like you."

"In the face, maybe," Sam whispered back. "But I think his shoulders are broader than Danny's. And maybe his arms...."

"Gee, thanks," Danny whispered sarcastically. "Why not point out I actually have legs while you're at it?"

The ghost boy raised an eyebrow, and a horrible suspicion occurred to Danny. There was a tiny popping sound and then the ghost's tail--previously undulating like an eel--split into a pair of legs clothed in a pair of ragged jeans. Despite his new feet, the ghost continued to float above the ground--if he even had ground on his side of the portal.

"I have legs," the ghost said, speaking at a normal volume, confirming Danny's fear, "when I want them, anyway."

His voice had a strange overlay to it, as though it was both hollow and resounding. It raised the hairs on Danny's arms and neck. He backed up a step.

"Who are you?" the ghost continued. "What are you?" He tilted his head farther to the side and narrowed his eyes. "And what did you do to my lair?"

"Oh shit," Tucker whispered, more quietly than before.

Sam stepped forward. "We could ask you the same thing. Who and what are you?"

The ghost's eyes finally moved away from Danny, sliding over to Sam instead. "Phantom. I'm a ghost who just had his home destroyed by an artificial portal. I'm guessing that was your--" his gaze scanned the three of them "--fault. Natural portals don't get ripped open, and they definitely don't open inside a ghost's lair. So what is it you're after? Who and what are you?"

"Dude, we're just human kids," Tucker said, holding up his hands. "It wasn't even supposed to turn on!"

"My parents built it," Danny said, taking another step back. "But it didn't work. It wasn't supposed to work! They gave up on it!"

"Yeah!" Tucker nodded vigorously. "Yeah! We just dared Danny to go in there because he was being a complete chicken about it--"

"I was not!"

"You were!"

"How did it turn on, anyway?" Sam asked.

"Danny must have pressed an on-switch inside the tunnel," Tucker said. "Since we didn't unplug anything it turned on while he was inside. That's not supposed to happen. You're supposed to turn it on and then plug it in. Your dad must have forgotten to press the on-switch before they plugged it in or something."

"Sounds like Dad..." Danny muttered.

"So..." the ghost, Phantom, said slowly, "it was an accident?"

"Yeah!"

"Total accident."

"Basically."

Slowly, the ghost's rigid posture eased, settling into a more relaxed pose. "Oh," he said softly, warily. "That's...good. It doesn't help me get my lair back--or get out of here--but that's...good."

"You could go back to your world," Danny muttered.

Sam elbowed him in the side and he grunted.

"I can't, actually," Phantom said. "There is a barrier on that side as well. I'm stuck inside...whatever this is."

Sam sucked in a breath. "You’re stuck?"

"Oh no," Danny groaned.

"Like in a cage?"

Tucker sighed and rolled his eyes. "Here we go..."

Sam rounded on her friends. "We have to get him out!"

Danny held up his hands, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh, no way, Sam. We can't just, like, open the door to the ghost world. What if he's dangerous?"

Tucker looked at the ghost trapped inside the portal. "Are you dangerous?"

Phantom cocked his head to the side. "No?"

"Ha!" Sam cheered.

"That doesn't prove anything!" Danny objected. "He could be lying!"

Tucker, smirking, asked the ghost, "Are you lyi--"

"Tucker!"

"Well, we can't just leave him trapped in there forever." Sam walked toward the portal, ignoring Danny hissing her name. "How would you like to be trapped in a vortex for the rest of your life?"

"It's more like a tunnel than a vortex," Phantom admitted.

"A cage is a cage!" Sam placed her hands over Phantom's, the barrier acting like a glass panel between them. "And we're getting you out of this one."

---

An au in which Danny has ghost phobia, Phantom doesn’t know anything about the human world, and Sam and Tucker are determined to befriend a ghost come hell or high water lol. Some of the Danny/Sam scenes will be replaced with Phantom/Danny (because that was what started this) but because Danny has an extreme fear of ghosts, brought on by his parents experiments and stories, it’s going to very slow burn. By comparison. 

To keep from rewriting, like, everything, I’m thinking I’ll try condensing the scenes that don’t change (the food fight in Mystery Meat for instance) as either a diary entry or as a rushed description of events? Whichever way feels more natural...I want to get at least one full scene written for each episode.

This may be too ambitious but idk, I would love to hear your guys’ thoughts!

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part eight Word count: 1900± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range,  Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her  demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to  be her final hunt. Part eight summary: Sam finally arrives in Nashville and is about to begin the search for his father, when an unexpected call comes in. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and   flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Nashville, Tennessee      December 3rd, 2005 - Present Day

     With a sigh, Sam gets off the bus. The rain beats down on him straight away, but instead of being annoyed by it, he finds it refreshing. Finally, he’s in Nashville. It’s  taken him three days to get here. Three days of torture - which included waiting for his damn transport to arrive in the first place, being forced in a seat made for someone who is 4’8, and having to change twice to get to his final destination - but he’s in Nashville. 

     Of course, he could have hopped on a plane for a journey of only several hours, but he had a hunch he would have a bit of trouble getting through customs, carrying a duffel loaded with blades, guns, and ammunition. He might always be complaining about his brother’s driving skills or his collection of Metallica, Motorhead, and Black Sabbath tapes which he plays over and over again while he sings along, but seventy-six hours of traveling to get from Texas to Tennessee wasn’t a joy either. 

     He watches the touring car take off into the night, continuing its trip, the droplets that run down the side catching the light of the overhanging streetlights. The sound of the engine fades as the carrier merges into traffic again. Suddenly, he feels alone, left behind, and not just by the bus. It’s not the first time he experiences this uneasiness, because Sam has pondered about the fight he had with his older sibling more than once. Truth be told; he never expected Dean to leave him on the side of the road. He called his bluff, and when his brother didn’t give him an inch, he himself refused to surrender as well. If he’s completely honest with himself, he started regretting this impulsive act the minute he saw the Impala drive away, but he couldn’t let it show, he couldn’t let Dean win. He is so tired of being bossed around and being treated like a little kid. Stubborn? Maybe. Guess it runs in the family.

     Sam can take care of himself, but tracking his father will not be an easy task without Dean. When it comes to Dad, the oldest son knows him best and Sam realizes he’s going to be missing him on this search. He hopes the woman who set him on this path will call him again, because he could use a lead.

     So, what now? He decides it will probably be best to settle down in a motel and get online, see if he can find some information, then he will start asking questions. There’s not much he can do right at this moment, considering it’s 2.30 AM. It’s going to be quite a task, finding a man in a city covering 550 square miles with over 600.000 citizens. And all he has is the word of a girl he has never met, of which he didn’t even catch her name.      “This is insane,” he mutters, looking around.

     A voice of reason whispers in his ear again: go back. Dean’s words had some truth to them. What if this is a trap? What if he’s walking straight into it? Sam’s doubts will not make him turn around, though. He is here and he is not going to stop searching until he finds Dad. 

     Sam keeps his head low and buries his hand in his pockets, protecting himself from the rain as he shivers. It’s not particularly cold for this time of the year, but 39 °F isn’t anything near Texas. Raindrops bring down the temperature as well and continue to fall down on the hunter as clouds block out the moon.

     He starts to walk in the direction of what seems to be a hotel. The interstate, which lays directly next to the parking lot, crosses Highway 70. Lines of cars travel by, their white headlights and red tail lights lighting the road like it’s Christmas already. 

     Through the curtains of water, the young Winchester spots a neon sign at the entrance of the building he’s approaching. He was right; it is a hotel, funnily enough one from the same chain where Zoë spent the night in Paragould. The Hampton Inn Bellevue looks like a fancy place from the outside, and remembering the luxurious room of the huntress, he reckons this hotel will not be any different. Sam doesn’t like to waste money, but he will do anything for a decent bed after being crammed into that touring car like a canned sardine. Not that he’s planning to sleep much; he has better things to do. He has to find Dad, it’s all he can think of. 

     Right when he’s about to enter the establishment, he hears his cell phone ringing. Hastily, he takes his Blackberry from his pocket, hoping it to be the anonymous caller who tipped him off three days ago. The display announces the caller as ‘unidentified’, it might not be so far fetched. Sam picks up immediately.      “Hello?”      A relieved sigh sounds from the other side. “Hey, Sam.”

     It’s a feminine voice alright, but it’s not the ‘mysterious lady’, as Dean called the woman who passed him the information about their Dad. He does recognize the person on the other end, though. She is the last human being on earth he expected a call from.      “Zoë,” he concludes, stunned.      “Yeah… hey, listen,” she cuts to the chase. “I’m in deep shit.”

     Sam stops dead in his tracks. He thought she might be after she left so abruptly back in Arkansas, but the fact that she’s admitting that she’s in trouble means that this is serious.

     “Where the hell are you?” he asks.      “I’m just outside Darrington, Washington State.”      “Are you hurt?” Sam asks worriedly.      “Yeah, but that’s not the point.” She pauses for a moment, knowing what she is about to say might come as an unpleasant surprise. “Your brother’s here.”

     Completely staggered, Sam stares ahead with his phone still close to his ear. What did she just say? Dean is there? With her?! A million questions pop up in his head, but he finds it difficult to choose the first one to ask. 

     “What?!” is the only thing he can cry out.      “Yeah, I thought you might say that.”      “But, how the…? He went out to do Dad’s dirty laundry!” he recalls, stunned.      “Are you calling me dirty laundry?”      Sam’s eyebrows reach his hairline, remembering the coordinates John sent his brother. “You are Dad’s dirty laundry?”      “Apparently, but it doesn’t matter.” She interferes before the receiver of the call has the chance to ramble on. “Listen, Dean’s life is in danger. If he stays here with me, he’ll die. You have to get him out bef--”

     Now, it’s Zo who gets interrupted. Puzzled, Sam stares at his phone for a moment, assuming the connection might be bad. When the display shows three bars in the right upper corner, he presses the Blackberry against his ear again and listens carefully, trying to identify the sounds he hears. It seems like Zoë is fighting someone over the phone, then he hears Dean in the background.      “Give me the damn phone! Give it!”      “No! Let go!”      “Zoë!”      “Don’t Zoë me, you son of a--”      “Hand me the fucking phone!”

     The line cracks, but then the noise of static stabilizes. Dean has apparently won the fight over the device, because he can hear his voice loud and clear.      “Sam?”      “What?” he replies coldly.      “Whatever you do, don’t hang up,” Dean pleads before Sam does something he will regret later.      “I thought you were on Dad’s job?” the younger brother confronts, still angry with his brother.      “I am, this is the job. The coordinates led me to Zo,” he explains. “This is not some ghost hunt, Sam. This is unlike anything I’ve ever faced before.”

     The hunter hears the concern in his sibling’s voice and he immediately swallows back the smart response he had waiting for him.      “I need you to get over here, and while you’re at it look up everything you can find about hellhounds,” Dean demands, calm but stern.      “Hellhounds?” Sam repeats, perplexed. “As in the actual soul claimers of the crossroad demons?”      “Yep, and we’re on the menu.”      “How did that happen? You have to make a deal before they claim your soul at the arranged time,” Sam remembers from one of the lore he studied.      “They were let off the hook,” Dean claims. “Sam, you have to find out a way to kill them.”      “You can’t kill hellhounds, Dean,” Sam replies.      “No, you don’t understand. You have to find a way to kill them,” Dean repeats slowly, making sure the words sink in.

     The youngest gulps, realizing how much trouble Zoë and his brother are in. He has read some books that mentioned these creatures, but he never found anything about killing them. He turns around and stares up, letting the rain fall down on him, the water clumping his brown hair together in strands. The hunter scoffs; and he thought he made it to his final destination. He just traveled half the country to get east, now he has to travel all the way up north?

     “This better not be some excuse to get me away from Dad, Dean,” he warns.      “I wish it was, Sam,” Dean says, concerned. “Hurry it up, will ya?”      “Will do.”      “And - uh, about what happened down in Texas…”      “That’s not important now. We’ll talk about it later,” Sam replies to Dean’s unspoken words.

     Knowing they both can bury their pride and work this out, the younger brother closes his eyes as a burden falls off his shoulders. It must, for him to be able to carry a much heavier weight on them. Zoë’s and Dean’s life will depend on him.

     “One more thing,” Sam states, before hanging up. “You do know what happens when these things catch you. You don’t just die…”      “I know. You go to hell,” Dean finishes.      The young Winchester nods his head, although his sibling can’t see that. A short silence follows, after which Dean ends their conversation.      “See you soon, Sammy.”

     The line disconnects and a tone beeps in his ear, but it takes a few seconds before the young hunter actually lowers the phone and puts it away. Well, that changes things. There is no time to lose; he needs to get to Washington State and fast. 

     Determined, he stalks back onto the parking lot, observing his surroundings. No bus ride this time, he needs faster transportation. His gaze glides over the parking lot. Then he spots a silver 2005 Chrysler Crossfire Roadster amongst them. He nods, approving, knowing that the vehicle would make good time, but his conscience kicks in soon enough. He can not just connect some wires and steal a car like that! Or any car! But the thought of his brother and Zoë ending up dog food because he was too civilized to go grand theft auto isn’t something he could live with either. He’s left with no other option. 

     Reluctantly, Sam groans and eyes the vehicle, but then steps towards it while shaking his head and mumbling to himself, “I am so gonna regret this.”

Thank  you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee. Link in bio at the  top of the page.

[msjr0119]

Birthday One Shot

A/N1: So it’s my girls birthday today. My favourite drunk partner. Hope you have had a fabulous day @drakexwillow !!! I can’t wait to have an alcoholic drink with you and fall asleep again 😆

A/N2: Some of the dialogue used was actually texts between us. I’ve rushed this as I’ve been busy passing out all weekend - bypass any stupid grammar mistakes 🤣

A/N3: Thank you to your other half, ‘Beany’ for helping me out with some things- I hope he didn’t spoil it for you ❤️👍🏼

Book: The Royal Romance (A/U)

Pairing: Drake Walker (Michiel Huisman) x Willow Downing (Jessica Lowndes)

Song inspirations:

Gun Machine Kelly- Drunk Face

Gun Machine Kelly- Hangover Cure

Mood- 24kGoldn and Ian Dior

Warnings: Adult language, mention of sex, mention of being drunk.

Tags: Thinking of those who like Drake x MC especially Willow- don’t feel obliged to read if you don’t want to 😊

@drakexwillow @burnsoslow @axwalker @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @bascmve01 @yukinagato2012 @lodberg @cordonianroyalty @texaskitten30 @nomadics-stuff

****

Drake Walker had been dating Willow Downing for many years now. Every birthday that came around he always struggled with new ideas about what to do for the love of his life. At times he was tempted to ask for advise from his closest friends Maxwell and Sophie- however, if he did that he knew that it would just end in a disaster. A big drunken mess. He would usually impersonate a babysitter for the three of them, especially Willow. Thinking back to past birthdays, she wasn’t a bad drunk. Or was she? There had been times when she would get the ‘munchies’- gather food everywhere then not clean up after herself. Rice. That was the worse time for this common food reoccurrence. If it wasn’t the issue of food, there was the spilt drinks residue surrounding the place instead. Which Drake had to clean up. One of the worse ‘Willow moments’ since they had began dating had been when she vomited in their bed- and all down herself, Drake had turned into a domesticated goddess for the night. Stripping the bed, before assisting her in the shower. Oh, then there was the time when Maxwell and Willow had gotten matching tattoos of a peacock with the words ‘House Beaumont Rules’ sprawled underneath it. That night was karma in Drake’s eyes. Regardless of her drunk past antics, he loved her with all of his heart and wouldn’t change it for anything. She was the one.

****

🎶Why you always in a mood?

Fuckin' 'round, actin' brand new

I ain't tryna tell you what to do

But try to play it cool

Baby, I ain't playing by your rules

Everything look better with a view🎶

“I’m not in a mood!” Drake defended himself- as his other half entered the kitchen singing. Yes, he was known to be the moody one. The one that always wore a scowl. But for once he wasn’t ‘in a mood’. Not for now anyway.

“Sometimes you are. But no, it’s a song. You really need to get down with the kids Drake and watch TikTok.” Snuggling behind him, it was the best option as she knew exactly what his expression would be like. Hearing a heavy sigh escape from him- soon she felt him relax, both feeling content.

Fucking TikTok. He muttered to himself. The social media app had become his worse nightmare recently. When they laid in bed on a night, she would promise him that she was only watching it for five minutes. That five minutes soon turned into an hour, which then elaborated into sometimes three or four hours. By that time he had fallen asleep. No intimacy. It’s a phase- she will soon get bored. Again, he wouldn’t change his relationship with her.

****

Later on that night after they had eaten, Drake had put one of Willow’s favourite TV series on. Usually she would be ‘glued’ to it- no matter how many times she had seen this specific episode.

“I thought that you’d want to watch The Office? But instead you’re just listening to that garbage. Can’t we just have one night with no TikTok or listening to him?” After his original snappy attitude, that turned eventually into a plead- Drake attempted to make eye contact with her. Knowing full well that she wasn’t fully listening to him.

“But, he’s amazing. Gorgeous. Sexy.....” Swooning deep down inside as she expressed this, Willow eventually locked eyes with a now pissed off boyfriend. Before TikTok became a ‘thing’, she was in a similar situation whenever a new game for the PlayStation was released. Karma at its best.

“Obviously not as sexy as you though Mr Walker.” Attempting to redeem her previous words, Drake responded with only an eye roll. Maybe she was slightly addicted to Machine Gun Kelly and TikTok. In all honesty, lockdown was to blame for this ‘addiction’. Being stuck in the house. With nothing to do. Well, there was other things to do. Most time spent to begin with was the two of them entangled in each other.

“I’m sorry, Drake. Allow me to listen to one song, then we will watch this- no phones. Just Drillow time.” A smile finally crept upon his face. Finally she was cooperating with him in his mind.

“Sounds like a good deal. Which song are you going to choose?” He asked, not that he was bothered or interested. Just eager to spend time without any distractions.

“I like too many songs- I’ll try and pick a favourite...’Drunk face’. It’s off his new album. ‘Hangover cure’ is also a good one by him.” I bet it is.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t listened to it.” Faking a sincere yet interested tone of voice, Willow was still debating which song to hum and listen along too. Just hurry up and chose one.

“I can’t believe he’s with Megan Fox and he keeps using her in his music videos it’s so cute.” Getting easily distracted again, Drake bit his lip as she did this in a silent frustration.

“I thought that Megan Fox was still with Brian Austin what’s his face?” Surprisingly, he wasn’t aware of their unexpected split when it was breaking news in the show business world.

“No they split up the start of the year I think it was....I didn’t think they’d look that cute together and pictures of them together he towers over her and it makes them look adorable.” Like us, Drake compared the celebrity couple to themselves as he always towered over a ‘shorter’ Willow.

🎶Wake up, still drunk from last night

The first dates are always uncomfortable

Stayed up, I couldn't sleep last night

I'll admit, I'm a little dysfunctional

Are you okay with the fact I'm a little off track, to be honest

I've been through relationships, I've never been in love, but I want this 🎶

“Anyway, let’s finish watching this before my birthday tomorrow.” Finally placing her phone out of reach, Drake couldn’t quite believe that she had detached herself from it. Almost hallucinating due to the fact.

****

The two of them didn’t quite finish watching the episode. One thing led to another. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, before Drake had carried Willow bridal style to their bedroom. The rest of the night was bliss, an early gift for the birthday girl. Walker style.

Knowing that it was now officially her birthday, she snuggled into the soft warm sheets with a content feeling. Subconsciously she had dreamt about how Drake would make her day special. As he always did. Rolling over, there was no sign of him. Blinking her eyes she believed that she could possibly still be half asleep- that was until the realisation of the sun peeping through the cracks of the blinds. Forcing herself out of bed, she searched the house for Drake with no avail. Wondering what he was upto, she put those thoughts to the side for now and got ready for the day. Her day. A day that she had planned to be filled with fun and laughter with the people closest to her. He will be back before I’m finished.

An hour later, the wanderer still hadn’t returned. Willow had become slight panic stricken before the banging on the door distracted her pondering any further.

“Happy birthday!” The two friends shouted enthusiastically before pulling her in for a group hug. A hug that could have potentially suffocated her. “Where’s Drake?”

“I... I don’t know. It’s not like him to leave without saying goodbye at least, Soph.”

“Well it’s eleven o’clock. Never too early for a birthday cocktail. It’s the evening somewhere in the world. Maxwell sort the birthday girl out with a drink.”

“Yes ma’am. Come on, Lo.” Sophie watched the two of them disappear out of sight before dialling the number on her phone.

“Drake. Where are you?”

“I’m just getting Lo a present, I’ll be back soon Soph. I promise.”

“A present? How long have you been together? You should be more prepared Drake! You know it’s her birthday. This is not the time to go awol, Walker. Or at least explain to her where you are going!”

“Sophie, just please.... just distract her with some shit off of TikTok. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

An hour or so later after Sophie’s and Drake’s brief conversation- there was a quiet knock at the door, which made them all question who it could be. They had arranged to have a quiet time together as a foursome. Threesome at the moment. As far as they was concerned in the morning; the three of them didn’t want to wake up still drunk from last night. They were still young, wasting their youth. Promising to grow up next summer. They didn’t want Drake to always be in a mood.

“You girls carry on drinking, I’ll get the door.” Maxwell suggested as he leapt off of the bar stool.

“May I help you?” Maxwell questioned as he peered through the peep hole with one eye shut and the other attempting to examine the mystery person. In all honesty, it didn’t help that he was already slightly tipsy. He would be useless as an eye witness.

“It’s me you idiot! Are you going to open MY door?”

“You sound like Drake, but you don’t look like him. How do I not know that you’re here to rob us by impersonating my bestie?”

“One. Do you think that I’d dress like this if I was going to rob you? Two... you are not my bestie Beaumont!”

“Wow! You’re really good at this whole Drake Walker act.”

“Just fucking let me in Maxwell, before I throttle you!”

“How much is Drake paying you? He would actually say something like that to me... okay, I’ll ask you a couple of questions. If you get them right you can come in Drake.” Empathising the name, Maxwell still wasn’t convinced that it really was Drake. His drunk mind wondered why he wouldn’t just use his key and allow himself in.

“What’s my middle name?”

“Percival.”

“Lucky guess. What’s my peacocks name back home?”

“Petunia. Now get the chain off and let me in!” Oh that’s why he couldn’t get in. I forgot that I put the chain on when me and Sophie first arrived. Doh! Safety first!

“Drake it is you!” No shit Sherlock. “You look a complete knobhead by the way. Welcome to Chateau A La Walker.”

“Leave the French talking to someone who can actually express the language, Max.”

“Colson?” Drake sighed looking at Willow. Knowing how ridiculous this whole situation was. “Drake?”

“Tonight Matthew I’m going to be Colson Baker- Machine Gun Kelly. I’ve even got some nail varnish so you can do what Megan does to him in that music video. I’ve got red, pink, purple, black........”

“Drake... I like him and his music. But I love you. I love you for you... why are you doing this?”

“Do you love me more than him and TikTok?” Now that is a predicament to be in. Hmmm...

“Of course I do, you idiot.”

“Thank fuck for that! This wig was itching me too much.” Relieved to finally take it off, he flung it onto the floor- not caring how much it had cost him to recreate somebody else’s look.

“You don’t suit blonde hair anyway. These tattoos are so realistic.” Willow smiled softly towards him.

“Erm....”

“Erm?”

“Well... the reason... that... they look so realistic.....”

“Oh my god you didn’t!”

“Well these ones are just stick on ones. I did have one done this morning- hence why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“I NEED TO SEE THIS!”

“You will later..... I promise.”

“He’s probably had it done on his arsehole or something? Can’t be as bad as Maxwell’s ‘Turn Back Now’ Pennywise balloon tattoo above his ass.” Sophie suggested and explained with an oblivious Maxwell not understanding why suddenly he was the clown of the group. Drake couldn’t help but blush thinking about his surprise tattoo, in his mind it was ridiculous- he had regretted it as soon as it had began.

“Drake? Are you going to show me? It is my birthday after all...” Fluttering her eyelashes, he was done for. Simple gestures such as these turned him into a big ball of mush.

“Follow me to the bathroom. I’ll show you....” Stripping off out of the ‘rapper’ clothes that he had borrowed to complete his MGK look- he wrapped a towel around him in a flash. Not wanting to spoil the surprise immediately.

“So... don’t laugh, Lo. On the count of three- okay?” She couldn’t contain her excitment, being too eager and intrigued about the tattoo- she quickly whipped the towel away.

“Oh my god. You had a tattoo in honour of me.... Don’t you ever, criticise me for getting a tattoo. The peacock one- I was drunk. You had no excuse to get this. I might actually cry- with laughter. I love you, Drake Walker. Best birthday present EVER! I’ll get us both a drink. Come back into the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Not so little Walker- property of Willow ⬇️

Those words would now be permanently written across his pubic bone. Yes, it would be humiliating if anybody other than Willow found out the true extent of this tattoo. But what would be more embarrassing was if she was to reject his second surprise of the day now her name was on him for life.

[tiesandtea]

Suede in Ray Gun (US), issue 45, April 1997

The London Suede... English voodoo Wherein we learn of the ecstacy of being Suede By Michael Krugman

RG: It's refreshing to not hear the "We're going to tour America and everyone will love us" lip service that most English bands spew about making it here.

B: I'm just honest about it. In almost every other country in the world, we've had quite a lot of success, and it just hasn't happened in the States. Maybe it's something to do with the basic make up of the band that just grates with American music. Maybe it's the fact that we haven't had a successful tour there.

RG: That's true. All of the tours here were troubled in one way or another, what with Bernard's father passing away, or Richard having just stepped in. In many ways, we've never gotten to see the real Suede.

B: No, you haven't really, which is a shame, cos you missed out on something good. It's kind of down to us really, it's our problem. But I think that's pretty much true about a lot of English bands. They fuck up in the States. It's nothing I'm going to lose much sleep about at the moment, though.

A in-depth interview with a US alternative music magazine Ray Gun, conducted in November 1996. Full transcript from Suede Scrapbook (sent in by Elizabeth) under the cut. Scans including photographs by Donald Christie can be viewed here on the Richard Oakes Fans fb page.

It seems an eternity (in pop terms, at least) since Suede were declared the best new band in Britain, one week before the release of their first single. Since that time, so much has happened, both from without - the phenomenon that is Britpop - and, more importantly, from within. Suede v1 were a heavensent combo of genius guitarist and larger-than-life flashboy in Bernard Butler and Brett Anderson. Together they led Suede through two magic records, the eponymous debut and their daring masterwork, Dog Man Star. Then, as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone, split in a burst of still-not-clear acrimony.

Or so it seemed. When Butler bolted, Brett, bassist Mat Osman and drummer Simon Gilbert weren't yet ready to call it quits. They took the high risk of replacing the best guitarist of his generation with an untested 17-year-old with a gift for mimicry, both musical and physical. Young Richard Oakes had to put up with endless "Brett's Little Dick" jokes, even as he proved his abilities on the Dog Man Star tour, a surreal time on the road that saw the band come closer together as people than they ever had before. With the question of “what's the point?” still in the air, Suede went away again, this time to refigure out their purpose and place in the post-Oasis universe.

Two years later, they've finally returned, and, lo and behold, they're as special as ever. With Coming Up, Anderson & Co. have created a chrome and steel cityscape of broken hearts and souls, resplendent in youth and lust and the pursuit of Ecstacy. The sound is vintage Suede, glamtastic guitars swirling, though Oakes and new keyboardist Neil "The Lizard" Codling have substituted a more consise Pop! vibe for Butler's manic virtuosity. The record proves once and for all that Suede are still as vital and vibrant as ever.

Backstage at the Manchester Apollo, a distracted Anderson and Gilbert sit down to talk, their minds not on the inquiry but on the imminent first gig of a long tour. Once the conversation starts, Anderson, known to his bandmates as His Lordship, comes alive, the legendary haughty veneer replaced by a candidness and a big-chested pride that comes from knowing just how good his band Suede really are.

Ray Gun: I suppose we need to start with Bernard's departure. Is there a stock answer? Do we not talk about it at all?

Brett Anderson: I've got a sheet with the stock answer.

Simon Gilbert: There's not a lot too be said. That was three years ago.

Brett: It's ancient history. The only time we ever think about that whole episode is when people ask us in interviews. It's like this bizarre thing that was in the past.

RG: Well then, why don't we talk about Richard? How did he join up?

S: He actually wrote in when he heard Bernard had left the band. He actually wrote in to the fan club, sent in a tape. We heard it, thought it was amazing and got him in for an audition. By the first song - he played "Heroine" - it sort of clicked.

B: That whole period was pretty strange, cos we were touring an album where one of the members who had co-written it with me had pissed off. It was quite frustrating and quite difficult at times. Which I got through with a lot of good will and a lot of positivity, but it was quite hard work. A lot of people had sort of thought, "Awww, the band had collapsed." We had to tour the album. It's just what you've got to do when you're in a band. For one thing, I was really proud of the album. I thought it was a fucking great album, there's a lot of songs on it that I really wanted to play live. I spent seven months writing the fucking thing, and when you put that much work into it, I was living it night and day, you just want people to hear it.

RG: Dog Man Star fell between the cracks in a way. It was overwhelmed by the very public split between the band and Bernard, and more importantly, it is a remarkably adventurous second album that came out at the same time as Britpop began to get more and more generic. Do you feel it went over people's head?

B: Yes and no. Commercially, it did. It wasn't commercial for a couple of factors. Not just because of its musical obscurity or whatever, cos it wasn't that musically obscure-

RG: It was complex.

B: It was complex, yeah. It was a combination of that and losing the guitarist. A lot of people thought the band had split up. A lot of people had a lack of confidence in the band because of that. And it was unfounded because, you know, most people experience backlash because they've made a shitty record, or cos they're not very good anymore. In some senses, Dog Man Star is probably the best record we've ever made. So yeah, it went over some people's head, and it was a difficult record to sell, but I think it was quite a landmark record. I read various snippets of things and people talk about bands trying to make their Dog Man Star. The record has definitely got a character which can be translated to other people's records. It's got a very sort of serious, epic, complex sense, d'you know what I mean.

RG: No matter what tension was going on in the studio, it remains a very brave album, in that you were a relatively straightforward pop band and you made a record that the 14-year-old segment of the audience would invariably be baffled by.

B: That had always been the idea for Suede. We'd be pushing it all the time. We've always had a sense of adventure in the music. It's a very difficult thing for people to get their heads around, cos we tend to write in a very similar, what, when it comes to singles. Like, stylistically, there's not much difference between "Trash" and "The Drowners." They're heady, poppy...a rush. If someone just looked at our singles, they'd say, "Oh this band hadn't progressed at all." But if you listen to any of the albums, we always try to change stuff around. And making Dog Man Star just seemed like a natural progression from the first album. We wanted to do something that was really really out there. And that sort of spirit of adventure has been killed off by Britpop, in a way. I think the good thing about Britpop is that it readdressed songwriting, but I think the bad thing about it is that it promoted safeness in music. And at the time of Dog Man Star, we could've written an album of tracks like "The Drowners" and "Animal Nitrate", we just didn't want to. Cos, you know, you're given a power, you're given a platform, you might as well do something that'll fucking prick up their ears, d'you know what I mean.

RG: Suede were the band that kickstarted the Britpop thing, not unlike what Nirvana did in the US with alt-rock. That is, taking a previously indie sound to the charts. Do you feel responsible for all this?

B: Yeah, totally. If you look at all of this chronologically and historically, Suede were the first band to do that. The kind of things that are in early Suede songs, talking about specifically English culture, not sort of singing songs about, y'know, rockspeak, d'you know what I mean? Just sort of bad cliches. So, not speaking rockspeak, talking about specifically English culture, which we were definitely the first band to do. Before Suede, there was a real confusion about what being in a band was all about. I mean, we came on the scene, we were so specific about what we wanted to be. We wanted to be Suede. And all the other bands around were just without a clue, just a joke. There were all these awful bands that didn't know how to write songs. I don't want to slag a load of bands off cos they're a load of crap. Just these bands that couldn't play, couldn't write a song, had no focus about what being in a band was. And Suede came along, and that's why we stuck out like a sore thumb, cos we had a certain sense of style, which no one else had. I'm not talking about we bought our clothes from fucking Armani or whatever, but there was a sense of what we were. Which was something beyond crappy student hair and shorts.

RG: But then just as you released your masterpiece, you got lost in the wake of Blur, Oasis, etc.

B: Well, yeah, we did, because of the simple fact that we'd lost a member. It would have been a completely different story if he'd stayed in the band. At the time it was quite frustrating, but I think, looking back on it, it was the best thing that could've happened. Cos I don't think we are considered a Britpop band. The same way that you wouldn't call the Stone Roses a baggy band, even though they started it. They're kind of beyond it by doing it in the first place, d'you know what I mean?

RG: Did you feel a sense of competition in making Coming Up? A need to prove yourselves?

S: There's probably an element of that, but it wasn't something we consciously had.

B: One of our strengths is that we don't particularly get influenced by what's going on around us. Some people might say that's a failing, cos you're not taking stuff in. I think Suede have definitely always had their own sense of style, they always had their own direction. I think there was a definite desire to refocus what we're about, cos I think with Dog Man Star, it went very experimental, we went in all directions everywhere. What you want to do is bring it all back to the central thing, and refocus on what the essence of the band was.

RG: That's the thing about Coming Up. It's Suede distilled to down to it's very nature. There's no wanky bits on this record.

B: Yeah. It was really important just to cut out all the dead wood, not have anything that didn't work. I wanted to make the sort of album that would work the first time you listened to a band. You don't have to like Suede to get into it, d'you know what I mean? It would just work on its own terms.

RG: In a sense, it was your first album. For any number of reasons, this Suede is not the same Suede.

B: It wasn't 'til we started writing the album, and Neil came along really, and the second phase of Suede really took off. Cos then it was really a new band. It wasn't just like the same instruments and stuff like that. I did feel as though Neil and Richard sort of combined to take it into a completely new form. No one could say, "Oh, they're just trying to replace Bernard," or whatever, it was a completely new feel to the band.

RG: The record seems to be influenced by real things, by friends and family, by being a person and not a pop star.

B: Definitely. It wasn't something I did consciously, but I did definitely retreat from all that. I pretty much retreated from the pop star shit really. I just got completely disillusioned from it and didn't particularly feel like going to the Squirrel's after show or anything like that, d'you know what I mean?

RG: As the scene became more celebrity oriented, you were noticeably absent.

B: We have this image of being this band of blokes that are kind of like obsessed with our hair and like, the superficial side of it all, and there's nothing further from the truth. I'm just so disinterested in the Face side of being a pop star.

RG: You certainly know how to use it to your advantage, though.

B: Well, sticking it in front of a fucking camera, if your face is going to be on the cover of a magazine and 100,000 people are going to read it, you don't want to look like you're just woken up, do you?

RG: The characters on Coming Up are like a chronicle of the modern drug-taking lifestyle.

B: Virtually everyone in London, a huge section of the people I know, are just complete rave heads and complete weekenders. There's this whole culture, this weekender culture, where you work throughout the week and on the weekend they just go completely insane. They're just popping pills like there's no tomorrow. And there are a lot of those sort of people on the record, yeah.

RG: And yourself? You've got a reputation as someone who enjoys a bit of chemicals.

B: No more than anyone else, really. I've always had too much of a focus on what I'm doing to ever slip too much into it. I've always almost used drugs, in a way, rather than let them use me. I've used them, yeah, (A), to let off steam. Who doesn't? When you're thinking all day, you need to just be blank for a couple of hours. And (B), to sort of like stimulate your mind sometimes. But when you say something like that and people get the wrong end of the stick. You get headlines like "BRETT PROMOTES DRUGS TO WRITE." Which is absolute bollocks. I'd say quite the opposite. I'd say it actually deters you sometimes, it actually stops you from thinking. But, y'know, when you're taking drugs and fucking hammering yourself into the ground for 15 years, which I have been doing, you actually get a sense of how to use them. There's a total difference between some 16-year-old taking drugs, and taking fucking Ecstasy for 15 years now, d'you know what I mean? So I know exactly how my body reacts, I know exactly how my mind reacts, I know exactly how to use it rather than let it use me.

RG: To be honest about it. Too many people go, "Don't do drugs" or "Drugs are the greatest!" whether they mean it or not.

B: I'll tell you what. We're doing this interview for the States, and I think there's so much fucking dishonesty about drugs in the States. It's one thing that really pisses me off. It's fashionable to say that you used to do it and you don't do it anymore. It's fashionable to be in rehab. All you have to do is say you're in rehab and make the right sort of music and you've got a hit record. And it's got nothing to do with your music, it's got to do with this society of people who go to rehab. It's absolute utter fucking bollocks.

RG: It's the culture of apology, the idea of saying, "I'm better now."

B: Exactly. Especially when it's saying, "Oh, I'm a rock 'n' roll and cool because I used to do drugs. I'm not a complete square. But I've given them up now, so I'm a good guy." Why don't you be fucking honest about it and say what you do and what you don't do. It's a load of fucking lies. It's all over the world, but it's extremified in the States, cos, y'know, everything's extremified in the States.

RG: Seeing how you've been so honest on the subject, did Damon Albarn's much-quoted comments about you being some kind of junkie piss you off?

B: I just don't like people commenting on what I do. I'm willing to talk about anything, but when other people start passing judgement on me...

RG: I want to talk about the more common Suede images, things like electricity and diesel and the sea and so forth.

B: There's a definite language that I like to make my own. I like to use words - not repetitively, I've never overused a word or phrase. The most used one is like, "hired car," which I've used about three times. I quite like establishing your own kind of language, and almost like, putting a copyright on your language, so when someone comes along and uses a word like that, then you can go, "Ah, that's one of my words," d'you know what I mean?

RG: So if someone writes about, say, the motorway...

B: Then I'll slam them into court and sue their asses. Seriously, that's why as a lyricist I have a style, like I have as a singer. I think lyrically speaking, words are generally pretty barren at the moment, and I think it's important to have a bit of pride in what you do and take it seriously.

RG: The imagery you use creates a very vivid world, albeit one that is very modern and very cold.

B: I try to put a bit of warmth in it as well. I don't see the world as this pointlessly bleak experience. There's a lot of optimism I have for life. Living in London is really exciting every day. I like to write about things that have got a timelessness, that's quite important to me. I don't like writing about things that are just of the moment. I tend to choose things like electricity or something like that, specific things that are part of the modern age, the modern age being something that happened about 96 years ago and that'll carry on for another hundred.

RG: Is there are Suede tribute band like say, No Way Sis?

B: Yes, actually, in Canada. They're called Snide. They come from London, Ontario and they do Suede and the Sex Pistols, so that's really cool. That's the only one I know, though I think there's a couple in Australia as well.

RG: Does the singer try to look like you? That's always the funniest part of those bands.

B: Yeah, like a cross between me and Johnny Rotten, if there is such a thing.

RG: Do you really want to make it in the US? Do you care anymore?

B: Not really, no. To be absolutely totally honest. I've been over there three times, three big tours, worked really hard, and at the end of the day, maybe there's just something about Suede that just doesn't connect with the American mentality. If they like the record, then they like the record. Your role as a musician is kind of like being this conquerer, and I find that really unhealthy. Everyone's always talking about breaking territories like they're fucking Alexander the Great.

RG: It's refreshing to not hear the "We're going to tour America and everyone will love us" lip service that most English bands spew about making it here.

B: I'm just honest about it. In almost every other country in the world, we've had quite a lot of success, and it just hasn't happened in the States. Maybe it's something to do with the basic make up of the band that just grates with American music. Maybe it's the fact that we haven't had a successful tour there.

RG: That's true. All of the tours here were troubled in one way or another, what with Bernard's father passing away, or Richard having just stepped in. In many ways, we've never gotten to see the real Suede.

B: No, you haven't really, which is a shame, cos you missed out on something good. It's kind of down to us really, it's our problem. But I think that's pretty much true about a lot of English bands. They fuck up in the States. It's nothing I'm going to lose much sleep about at the moment, though.

RG: The thing with Suede is that you are pretty much a band of outsiders. In many ways, so are the kids that listen to you. Perhaps more so.

B: Totally. We do get a certain section of our audience that, you know, the Suede gigs they're coming to are the only times they've been out this year. They come in slippers, d'you know what I mean? Slippers and a dressing gown, rubbing their eyes like they just got out of bed. But yeah, we do attract a lot of people that are attracted to the band for unusual reasons, or are inspired by the band when they wouldn't be inspired by other people. It's not your run of the mill interchangeable "another band" kind of thing, and that's something I've always been determined not to be, "another band." It can sometimes be hard work, because you pretty much play on your own field, and you're pretty much cutting your own grass and making your own headway. It can be quite lonely, but it's a position we've always wanted.

[theparaminds]

Independency in the music industry is possibly the greatest challenge an artist can take on, to keep themselves on track and work with what’s available to create something special is an entire talent on its own. For 17 year old Victor, this is just a daily occurrence.

Making music out of his bedroom with whatever is available to him, Victor has created a landscape of soft and soothing tracks which he hopes will empower those who share the same roots as he does, as well as the social hardships he’s overcome. 

Paramind has had the unique opportunity to speak with Victor, not only on himself, but also about his story, fans and one of a kind sound. 

Paramind: First question as always, how's your day going?

Victor: My day is going well. I woke up at 6am to shower and I went back to bed and finished a few episodes of Law and Order. My room was cold so I had the heat on blast and ended up falling asleep again until 1pm. I might go to Dave and Busters later with my best friend, Julian.

PM: To begin at the starting of your musical journey, where would you say the decision to take music seriously came from, and more so, what influences in your childhood affect this moment?

V: My decision to take music seriously was a product of stress and boredom. I just woke up one day and said, “hey, fuck it, if I can make trap beats for my friends I can make beats for myself”. It's funny because the first song that I ever put out was so bad, yet people messaged me everywhere encouraging me to "make more please" and "this shit slaps". The song was probably a minute and a half in length and it was called "Run". I released the song last summer in a Facebook video, which was just a Sailor Moon gif of Usagi running, hence the song title, "Run". While the song was definitely one of my worst, I can't deny that I had fun making it. That pushed me to start making more. As far as childhood influences go, I owe a lot of this to my family which is made up of musicians left and right. My mom was lead pop singer in a Mexican band called "Ecstasis", they made a lot of synth-pop. My dad and his entire family are made up of mariachi music and gigs. My uncle is a worship leader at my local church. A lot of this is just experience that I grew up with and learned from.

PM: Would you say you were normal growing up? If so, do you wish you had strayed outside the box more, and if not, what did being an outsider teach you?

I was not normal at all. My close friends will know this and I always bring it up, but I grew up in a very religious household. My parents met at church and at some point they led the worship team there. I wasn't allowed to listen to any music with labels "explicit" or "dirty" on it. I remember using Limewire on my dad's computer and I remember he'd get worked up when he saw me downloading "explicit" music. My mom wouldn't let me watch certain TV shows. She hated Dexter's Laboratory because he'd say "stupid" a lot and in retrospect, she didn't want me picking up foul language which I understand now. Although I do wish my parents would've let me explore as a kid, I am grateful that I wasn't "normal". I was never the cool kid growing up so I didn't feel the need to try and fit in with anyone. I'd just do me and to this day that's how it's always been.

PM: You display very proudly that your roots are Mexican-American, acknowledging its importance into your sound, with a growing number of artists such as Cuco and Omar Apollo doing the same. Leading to the question of what is the importance of representing your heritage in your music and allowing it to influence your sound, especially in the world we're living in currently?

V: Being a Mexican-American boy has always been hard for me. My first language is Spanish, so up until the third grade, I was in ESL classes. Fortunately for me, I'm a fast learner so I picked up English quickly. My accent was not the best though, so all the white kids (I was living in the suburbs) would make fun of me when I mispronounced something. For a long time I would feel ashamed of being Mexican and I would feel embarrassed whenever my parents spoke Spanish in front of my friends in fear of getting made fun of. Looking back now it was so stupid but I feel that a lot of people like me went through it. We eventually lost our suburban home and moved out to Little Village, Chicago. The majority of Little Village is Hispanic, so I went to school with a bunch of brown kids and I think that is when I felt more comfortable with myself. After stumbling upon Cuco on the internet one day, I remember feeling cool. I thought to myself, "People can sing in Spanglish like this? Over synth-pop beats?" People like Omar Banos make me feel proud to be Mexican and I think that brown kids deserve opportunities in every industry and place.  This encourages me to speak about my heritage. It's who I am. I wanna represent those Little Village kids. I wanna represent my family. My parents are immigrants and although they split and I'm living with my mom now, I still worry about them both and pray that they don't get taken or some shit. I'd be so bummed. No one should live in fear of their parents being taken away. The evil of this world gets stronger but music is my family's anchor and that's what I will always hold on to.

PM: You also work with no management team or label backing, what surprise positives have you found in that route?

V: I had something like a "personal manager" for a few months, my friend Sydnie Giles. We're both juniors in high school right now, and she's planning on a music business career. She'd help me by writing out emails and offering advice. She wasn't hired or anything (we're both broke high school students) but her passion for music drove her to help me out and encourage my growth as a solo artist. Besides that, I've had no real management or label reach out to me or "pick me up". I remember being on the phone with Omar Apollo a week or two ago and we had a small discussion about management. That discussion was a wake up call for me, and I decided to stop working with Sydnie for now (we are still close friends and it ended on good terms). I've found in having no management or label are that I have full creative control and I don't have to follow any schedule. In other words, I am able to work on my own time and I get to keep any profit that I make. I'm also able to put together my own team and that means that when I win, my friends win as well. It feels good to be doing this at 17.

PM: Now before we can talk about your music, It's always good to know where it comes from, so what have been your biggest musical influences and how have they changed you?

V: It's difficult to point out influences when you're constantly influenced by everything around you. I listen to Blonde at least three times a day, but it doesn't make me want to get up and work on a new song. Sometimes my friend will tell me about her boy problems and that will strike up a song. Sometimes I'll be scrolling through my camera roll and admire my girlfriend for like fifteen minutes. That will make me get up and write a song. I don't really have big musical influences, but I do enjoy listening to Omar Apollo, Frank Ocean, Michael Seyer, and HOMESHAKE. These are all people I look up to as artists and I have many more. I find that my friendships shape me more than anything else.

PM: Who do you hope to inspire with your music and what do you want your legacy to be 200 years from now?

V: I hope to inspire the kids with broken computers and broken families. I've been through a lot of shit but it hasn't stopped me from creating and doing the things that I love most. You don't need a studio to make bangers. It's okay if your family is financially unstable. It's okay if your dad isn't around. It's okay if you're not poppin' at school. Do what you gotta do and pour your heart into it. My legacy in 200 years? Shit, I don't know. I don't know if I'll make it that big for people to remember me 200 years from now. I know what I want 200 years from now to look like, though. I just wanna see more brown kids making cool shit. This alternative pop scene is whitewashed and I hope more brown kids show out. Use whatever resources you have. Steve Lacy started with just an iPhone. I started with a Gateway desktop computer someone at church passed down to me. You can get it done if you work hard.

PM: Onto your music, you have cultivated an aesthetic of a striped back sound and lyricism, does this come at all from the way you make music and the resources available to you?

V: I'm always telling people, "I just make the shit I'd listen to" but that's the biggest lie I've ever told. I actually don't like listening to my voice in songs, it's weird. Would I rather teleport or fly? I don't know, I think teleportation would be cooler. I'm always late to things so this would help a lot. Unless I accidentally teleport to school in nothing but my Calvin Kleins. That'd be so stupid.

PM: Do you think there's been a shift to a diy approach to music such as yours? And if so, why?

V: This shift is stupid. People have turned a real life struggle into a musical genre. "Bedroom pop" is what they call it. Really, it's just a bunch of kids with cracked softwares making what they can. Borrowed microphones, cheap VST's, all that shit. None of this is intentional, I just find comfort in my bedroom and I don't have money for studio time. Would I still go to a studio if I had the money? Probably not. In my room, I can eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch while working on a track. You can't do that in a professional studio. I like the fact that I can make an entire album from my bedroom.

PM: Do you think if given the chance, you would become more studio based and label managed?

V: I like being independent. I don't think I'm ready for contracts and paperwork. I'm only 17. I'm actually looking for a job right now, I might check out Panera. I heard they were hiring and they have cool discounts for employees. Again, if I could work in a studio, I probably wouldn't. It depends. I like working by myself. It's just me and my thoughts, it feels cute and intimate. I do need a manager though with a lot of money. If you qualify, please hit me up. I don't have money but I can make you trap remixes of your favorite songs.

PM: Do you believe you'll have to innovate your sound to continue to stay as popular, or is that growth not always necessary?

V: Honestly I'm just going to keep making whatever sounds good to me. Chris Brown has been making the same shit for years now and he's still popping. 57-track album, nothing groundbreaking in there but some of his singles went gold/platinum. I don't wanna be pretentious and try reinventing a genre or some shit like that. If it hits me, I'll just do it naturally. I don't go into working on music with these things in mind. It's usually a very natural process for me. I trust myself.

PM: But finally, what is the core element to Victor that will have to stay even through change, what can't ever be lost if you are to still be yourself through the musical journey you're embarking on?

V: Good taste. I have good taste and I feel that I don't get enough credit for that! You have artists that make music solely for the people. They make shit that the masses wanna hear. You have artists that are genuine and do their thing. I'm a good balance of both. I know what the people want, but I don't always give it to them. I enjoy experimenting with different genres and trying new things out. At the end of the day, I have good taste and if I want to try something new, I'll make it work so that everybody can enjoy at least one part of my work.

PM: Do you have anyone/anything you'd like to shout out to promote? Do you have any projects coming soon? the floor is all yours!

V: I grew up without any older siblings or cousins to look up to, so shout out to Omar Apollo and Holladay. Whether the feeling is mutual or not, Omar has inspired me from the No Pulp days and I used to idolize him (low-key). Since we became friends, I've been constantly amazed by his work and impact on the community. He is that older sibling to me and I appreciate him. Holladay, for being passionate about the brown community and always talking about this idea of "passing it down". He's done a lot for me by putting me on although we are miles away and I will forever be grateful for his efforts. Shout out Blake Saint David for giving me a chance and giving me my first show ever. Shout out my best friend Andrea Reyes for doing my cover art and always supporting me when she doesn't have to. Shout out Omar Banos (Cuco) for retweeting my song and giving me a small platform. Lastly, shout out to my amazing partner and best friend in the world, Brenda Millan. My girlfriend is a huge part of who I am and she is always pushing me to do my best. I love that we can support each other's work and root each other on. I love my friends, fans and I love the internet.

Check out Victor: 

Victor’s EP

Instagram and Twitter

Follow Paramind on Instagram and twitter

Victor’s friends:

Andrea Reyes 

Omar Apollo

Holladay 

Blake Saint David 

[folklore-musings]

After School Special Part 5

Summary:  In an alternate universe where Jughead greases his hair more than Danny Zuko and Betty Cooper gives Sandy Olsson a run for her money at being the nicest girl in town. (No Danny Zuko and Sandy do make an appearance in this fic). Set in the early 1960s at Riverdale High. Slow burn leads to rapid fire (all the bughead smut you can imagine)

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Read on AO3 here

tags: @thejugheadshow @xobughead @de6ressive @starlitsummersky

Once inside her home, Betty released herself from Jughead’s jacket and snuck it upstairs into her room before her mother had a chance to catch her. Her mother, Alice, was not a fan of the Southside Serpents. Whenever the topic of them came up at the dinner table, which wasn’t often, she would scoff and begin to go on and on about how they were scum low lives who didn’t give a damn about anybody but themselves. Betty had always believed anything Alice said when it came to the Serpents, but the more she spent time with Jughead, she realized he was nothing like what her mother described.

At school on Monday, things had returned back to normal between the Jughead and Betty. She returned his jacket when she saw him, apologizing for keeping it over the weekend. He thanked her and kept on walking, swinging the jacket on over his shoulders as he did.

What she didn’t mention to Jughead was the fact that she’d slept in the jacket all weekend long. Despite smelling like an ashtray, the jacket was warm and inviting, swallowing Betty up into her own little black hole. Ironic as it was, when wrapped in Jughead’s jacket she felt safe, even if the boy who owned it was the most dangerous boy in town.

She’d been mulling over what happened all weekend, still thinking it was some weird, twisted dream. She didn’t know how to react so she asked him to take her home. And three days later she still didn’t know what to think; if she was another conquest or if Jughead actually liked someone other than himself and Archie Andrews.

Needing another’s opinion, Betty confided in Veronica and Kevin at lunch, making them swear they wouldn’t tell a soul what she said. “Cross my heart.” They sang in unison, giving Betty their full, undivided attention.

She went on to explain every detail of her drive down to Blue Bend Park with Jughead. Their expressions were priceless, and when she mentioned the almost kiss, Kevin clapped a hand to his mouth and Veronica clutched her pearls. “What?” she cried, earning the threesome a few side glances from the tables surrounding them.

“Ronnie!” Betty cried, burying his face in her hands.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t expecting such a turn of events.”

Kevin interjected. “Girls girls, please! Betty, continue. What happened next?”

She drew her lip in and sighed. “I asked him to take me home. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Ronnie took a deep breath. “Shut up. You mean you’re telling me you were sitting in the front seat of Jughead’s car, he had his arm around you, he tried to kiss you…and all you do in response is ask him to take you home? Am I getting this right?”

Betty nodded, the end of her ponytail tickling the nape of her neck, sending a light shiver down her spine. “Sounds like it.”

Kevin looked from Betty to Ronnie, his mouth still agape. “Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting that. Why didn’t you let him kiss you?”

Betty threw her hands in the air. “It’s Jughead; would you let him kiss you? Actually – don’t answer that. You’ll kiss anybody.” Betty placed her hands in her lap, clenching her fists until she could feel her nails gouging tiny little crescents in her palms. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well do you like him?” Ronnie asked, popping a grape into her mouth.

Betty shrugged, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “I think so.”

“Then talk to him about it.” Ronnie urged, Kevin nodding in agreeance. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“No. And remember, this conversation does not leave this table.” Betty glanced over into the corner of the cafeteria where Jughead and Archie sat in the middle of a circle full of greasers. She watched him as he laughed at a joke she couldn’t hear. He looked up at that moment, catching her in her stare as she looked away. Her previously pink cheeks were now a violent shade of red. There was no way she was telling Jughead anything about her feelings for him. She was still trying to figure them out for herself.

◊◊◊

It was the end of November, and Jughead had three weeks left of his time on the Blue and Gold. His English grades had improved, solidifying his chances of graduating in the spring. Posted all around the school on lockers, walls and doors were posters for the Winter Dance. Each time Jughead passed one he tore it down, tossing it into the nearest garbage bin. Dances were stupid. Why spend a Saturday night in the school gymnasium with crappy music when he could be cruising in his rag or hanging out at Pop’s? There was just one issue: Betty was going to the dance.

He’d overheard her talking to Ronnie about it during study hour the other day. Each girl going on and on about who they wanted to go with, his heart sinking when Betty didn’t mention his name – or anyone’s name. Ronnie kept going on and on about Archie, since he’d broken up with Cheryl a week ago.

Ever since he’d found out she was going, Jughead’s malice toward the dance softened. He even considered asking her – until he remembered the night by the river. He didn’t want to risk making an idiot of himself again.

“Hey Jug.” Archie called from behind him, dodging other students in the hall to try and catch up. “I called your name like three times. You didn’t hear me?”

Jughead shook his head, a piece of perfectly greased hair falling into his face haphazardly. “Sorry Arch. What’s up?” Jughead followed the ginger boy outside to the parking lot, stopping to talk between their cars. The weather was unusually cold for November. He shivered in his leather jacket; sure his hair would freeze if he stayed out there too long.

“Cheryl won’t leave me alone. I was just using you for a getaway.” Archie replied. He offered Jughead a cigarette, the dark haired boy accepting it and striking a match to ignite it.

“Glad I could be of service.” He could see his breath looming between them in frigid air. “Want to continue this conversation at my place? My dad’s gone and I don’t want to miss the new episode of Leave It to Beaver.”

“Alright, I’ll follow you there.”

Archie was the only friend of his that he invited over. Jughead wasn’t proud of his family home – if you could even call it that. His parents split up a few years ago, his mom taking his little sister with her, leaving Jughead to fend for himself with his dad. He wouldn’t call his dad horrible, just misguided when it came to his family. FP couldn’t keep a job even if his life depended on it and he spent more time at the bar with his buddies than at home. Within the last week Jughead maybe saw his dad once – and he’d been passed out cold on couch, a bottle of beer dangling from his lifeless hand.

Sometimes it bothered Jughead how fucked up his family was. He dreamed of a perfect family, with a mom who stayed home and baked all day and a dad that worked a normal 9-5 job to provide for them. He knew that was the reason why he was hooked on so many family sitcoms. Jughead just wanted a boring, normal life with a family that cared about him. But he wasn’t that lucky. So instead he kept around friends like Archie, who stood with him through thick and thin.

The two of them had plans for after graduation. Plans they’d had since grade school. To pack everything they had into the back of Jug’s car and never come back to this hell hole of a town they hated. He and Archie were going to travel down the coast of the Pacific, all the way to Hollywood to live out their dreams. But as of late, there was another who snuck her way into his futuristic daydreams; a girl with bright blue eyes as deep as the ocean and golden hair like the sun.

Jughead punched the edge of his steering wheel. He couldn’t have a singular, solemn thought without Betty’s face fogging up his brain and making him smile like an idiot. It was starting to drive him crazy. Desperate for a distraction, Jughead was happy to see his house in the distance. He took a stiff turn into his driveway, Archie pulling in right behind him.

“Do you think your dad has any beer in the fridge?” Archie asked.

“Most likely. Knock yourself out if you want one.” Jughead led Archie through the living room and into the kitchen. He grabbed a soda while Archie grabbed a bottle of Miller High Life from the fridge. Jughead turned the TV and Archie flopped onto the couch, setting his feet on the table. “So, Cheryl issues?”

“Right,” Archie took a swig, swallowing quickly. “She keeps cornering me to try and get me to take her back. The bitch is crazy Jughead. I swear.”

Jughead opened his eyes wide in feigned surprise. “What made you come to that conclusion?”

“She likes – weird stuff. And that’s all I’m saying. I just don’t know how to get rid of her. It’s like she’s everywhere. Starting to really freak me out actually.”

Jughead placed the soda bottle to his lips, thinking of the pickle his friend was stuck in. “You know, I overheard Ronnie and Betty in the library the other day. Your name may have come up in their conversation.”

Archie places his beer on the table and stares at Jug. “What did they say?”

“Veronica Lodge is smitten with you Archie.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Archie exhaled loudly, absorbing this new information with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Maybe I should ask her to that dance next Saturday?” He nudges Jughead’s shoulder. “And you could ask Betty. We could all go together.”

Jughead shakes his head. “No. I’m not going to some stupid dance so you can try and score with Veronica Lodge.”

“Apparently I won’t even have to try if she’s already thinking the same thing.” He arched an eyebrow. “But why not? You and Betty, me and Veronica. I think it’s a great idea.”

“You also thought dating Cheryl Blossom was a great idea. And look at you now. Slumming it on my couch, watching Leave It to Beaver with me on a Friday afternoon.”

Archie flipped him the bird. “Whatever. I’ll ask Veronica either way. Maybe she’ll be at Pop’s tonight.”

Jughead sighed and took another sip of his coke. “It’s Friday night, everyone is going to be Pop’s.”

“Perfect.” Once Archie was a set on a decision there was no talking him out of it. Jughead sighed, praying his friend wouldn’t drag him into the whole charade. Last thing he needed was another awkward encounter with the girl of his dreams.

◊◊◊

Betty stood by Ronnie in the bathroom at Pop’s. Ronnie admired her pearls while Betty fluffed the curls in her ponytail. She puckered up, dabbing her lips with her signature Pink Perfection lipstick. “Ready?” Ronnie asked Betty. The blonde nodded her head, clenching her fists in anticipation as she followed her friend out of the girl’s room.

The greasers had walked in a few minutes before, claiming their regular booth in the corner of Pop’s diner. Archie forced his way through a throng of freshman crowded around the jukebox while Jughead and Joaquin waited for him to pick some songs.

Betty and Ronnie grabbed two stools at the bar near Jughead’s table. They each ordered a milkshake and shared a basket of fries. “Do you really think this will work?” Betty asked Ronnie under her breath, playing with the silk handkerchief around her neck.

“Oh my little naïve Betty, of course it will. Have I ever steered you wrong before?” Ronnie smiled her thousand dollar smile and fingered the pearls dangling from her neck.

“I mean if you want to be technical – “ Betty started, Ronnie cutting her off before she had the chance to finish.

“Stop it. Jughead is so totally gone for you. Anyone can see it. And Archie? Well he likes any girl with a pulse, so that keeps me in the running.” Betty laughed and pushed her negative thoughts to the side.

Pop brought them their shakes and their fries, refusing their money for payment. “It’s already taken care of ladies, courtesy of the hoodlums behind you.” Pop reached back to the counter behind him, turning around with two plates, two burgers on one and a hot dog with fries on the other. “Mind taking these over to them? That way you can thank them and I can catch up with line of people at the register.”

Veronica and Betty graciously accepted the plates and smiled at Pop. “No problem. Thank you.”

The girls hopped off their stools and headed for Jughead’s table. “Goldie Locks, are you looking to add waitress to your resume?” Betty handed him the plate with two burgers, stealing a pickle slice from the side. “That’s coming out of your tip sweetheart.”

“And what tip would that be?” Betty asked, biting her lip and looking at him under fluttering eyelashes.

“To thank the boys that paid for your milkshake. Nothing in this world is free.”

Before Betty could speak, Veronica beat her to it. “Thank you Jughead. We are forever in your undying debt.”

Archie cut in, “Well in that case, do you want to join us? Joaquin get out of here, make some room for these lovely River Vixens.” Betty felt bad for taking Joaquin’s place, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Joaquin tugged at the opening of his jacket and ran a hand through his slick hair. “Whatever, I’ve got better things to do anyway.”

As Joaquin fled, Betty and Ronnie grabbed their shakes and fries, slipping into the booth with Jughead and Archie. Jughead reached for a fry from the basket and popped it into his mouth.

“So ladies, you’ve decided to take a walk on the wild side. How does it feel so far?” Archie asked, taking a biting of his hotdog and sipping from his coke. Betty never understood how people could do that. Take a drink while they were still chewing. It grossed her out.

“Feels pretty tame to me, Archiekins.” Ronnie joked, catching Betty’s eye from across the table and smiling.

“You haven’t witnessed anything yet.” Archie said, wrapping his arm around Ronnie’s shoulder. “Are you girls going to the dance next weekend?”

Betty’s heart beat a little faster in her chest. She noticed the sparkle in Ronnie’s eyes at the mention of the dance. She’d only been waiting for Archie to ask her all week. “Maybe, it depends.”

“Depends on what?” Archie asked.

“Are you asking or just making small talk?”

Archie looked at Jughead, some silent conversation playing about on their features. Betty tried to follow but was lost. Instead she directed her attention to her milkshake, lazily stirring the creamy texture with her straw and tossing the cherry into her mouth. A thud was heard beneath the table and Betty noticed the way Jughead was wincing in pain. Boys are strange, she thought.

Stifling a laugh Archie spoke up. “Would you want to go with me, Betty, to the dance that is?” Ronnie’s and Jughead’s jaws dropped almost simultaneously. There was a fire in the raven haired boy’s eyes that Betty had never seen before. Her stomach flipped at the sight.

“D-Don’t you mean Ronnie?” Jughead stammered.

Archie tapped his chin thoughtfully. “No. I’m pretty sure I know who I want to take to the dance Jug. I don’t need your input.”

“Betty, he’s joking. Don’t listen to him. He’s just being an ass.” Jughead took a bite of his burger with a sour look on his face.

“But why would I joke about something like that Jughead? Unless there’s something you want to ask Betty? Is there?” Jughead continued to chew his burger, staring daggers at Archie. The ginger boy leaned into Ronnie and whispered something in her ear, making her smile and her ears turn pink. She nodded happily and took a bite of fry.

Jughead finally swallowed and cleared his throat. “I fucking hate you Andrews.” He kicked Archie under the table, harder than he’d been kicked the first time.

“Wait, what’s going on here? Is there something you want to ask me Juggie?” Betty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Not really – but I guess I have to now.” Jughead took a quick sip of his coke and continued. “Do you want to go to the dance with me next Saturday?”

“I’d really like that.” Betty reached out to grab Jughead’s hand resting on the tabletop between them. Everyone at the table was smiling, but none compared to his. Betty swooned at the sight – it wasn’t often she saw him smile. Sure, he would grin smugly smirk all the time, but actually smile? A smile from Jughead was a rarity. And Betty loved being the reason behind it. 

[ts-2020-olympics]

Episode 13 - “Put On My Villain Attire” - Sammy

This week was a lot, I made a mistake socially that hurt someone, and i couldnt be more disgusted or hurt with myself tonight. I feel awful for what i said about nicole, after tribal i cryed like a kid on call with sammy and Caeleb. Reaching out to nicole was hard because i dont want her to think im coming to say sorry as a game move. I respect nicole as a person, as a player, and I made a mistake, and it was time for me to own up to making a personal comment in context that should not have been personal. Now getting that out of the way, this week was crazy, the vote was Tommy, then Jacob, Then nicole, cut to tribal Nicole is excused from tribal, which im thankful for because i actually got to reach out to nicole after to say sorry for my comment.  Getting a response was the last thing I expected from her. And it made me happy to get one, especially such an understanding one that came from her realizing that was not my intentions. Game wise going forward, im aware theres cracks in this alliance and im not 100% safe. But im gonna ride it till i cant no more. I don't want to think game tonight but obviously i need to keep thinking about the game. Immunity wise, i dont think its necessity that I need to win, Even after I had a blow up and such i still feel like those in the game understand how hard it was for me tonight and my truth of how i didnt mean to hurt nicole. I still feel the most close to Sammy and Caeleb, they where there for me tonight after tribal while a cried, so was Kevin and Emma, idealy these people are the people I want there with me at the end of the game. In other news, Darcy has exposed himself as someone who has voted out sammy, meaning the list of people who need to go before I need to start backstabbing gets longer Stoner, Tommy, Nicole and Darcy are IDEALLY the next 4 boots, but u never know what will happen in this game! I could be working with Nicole next round for all I know. ANYWAYS TLDR: Im sorry, me and nicole are fine, im in a good place in this game. Thank u for coming to this LONG ASS confessional. 

im dying, so its been fun toodaloo 

Actually feeling very frustrated atm. I wanted this immunity so bad. The way Nicole plays this game is very frustrating and I’d love to see the way she actually plays the real game. Is she just gonna sit under the hut and ignore everyone that approaches her. She just lies about everyone and the minute someone does something against her she cries in her host chat. I’m usually not a mean person but she deserves to be the villain of this season. I literally have always looked up to Nicole as a player bc I have seen how genuine and kind she can be. But this game has really tossed out how i viewed her as a player. As a person sure she’s great but there’s a way to play this game by having good character. I would hate to see me leave before Nicole but if it happens and she makes it to the finals that’s okay but she won’t have my vote poor management. Anyways don’t wanna make my whole confessional about Nicole since she’s made the whole game revolve around her actions already. I’d like to personally shoutout Jordan caeleb and Eve in this confessional. Truly are the rays of sunshine in this game. I have my doubts about Kevin, Emma, and Darcy because I think that they have connections to Nicole. Someone is playing everyone and it’s so frustrating. I was so close to winning this immunity. I need to survive. Also I am very annoyed that caeleb has not had to stress a single round since merge. Yeah he’s my closest ally but like it’s annoying i want someone else like me to be immune and i know it’s selfish but it’s just annoying. I need to figure this out. I might have to put on my villain attire for this round. 

IMMUNITY? IMMUNITY? I HAVE THAT? Oh my god I think this may be like the first immunity I've actually one in the history of my Tumblr Survivor career (although checking the records there was one time I was just like individually immune for no reason during Seychelles premerge and I do not remember why) I needed this SO BAD, and even better is everyone is PISSED at me for winning, nobody can figure out where I figured out all the colors and it's SOOOOOOOOO FUNNY god bless, long live the underdog bayyyyyyybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

Okay, so here goes.   To start off my confessional for this round, that past tribal really was a mess.  Nicole played a tribal skip, so she survived, which was a good play on her part, but it led to some messy scrambles, and ended up losing probably my closest friend in this game (Love you Jacob <3,)  I ended up voting in minority with Jacob to keep my word, even though I knew majority was on Jacob.   In this game though, you got to take risks, and if the risk of keeping my word to my good friend outside this game ends up being my downfall, then so be it.   However, one isn't going to win by playing it safe every round and voting with majority all the time, you got to vote in minority at times too and try to at least make some bold moves, to get out the threats, otherwise, you might as well just give them the money, as those players would all make finals, and one of them would win.  Then where would the sheep be?   They would be at the jury, alongside those who they voted out.   Now, terms of this round, Nicole and I are trying to come together to split up the power trio of Eve, Caeleb and Sammy.   Plan is to try getting out Eve, as Eve has everyone basically wrapped around their finger, which I do not like, and I think Eve has the best chance of winning this game if they make it to the end, so yea Eve has to go.   I've also been hearing though, and sounds of things, Emma is wanting me out, and her reason I think is pretty well just because I haven't been voting with her.  It's like, I have only been to 3 tribals so far with Emma (4 if you count this one,)  and I voted with her the one tribal against Karen, then other tribal was just because I wanted to be loyal to my friend, and keep my word.   The first time though, was because I found the other person more threatening to my game.   Anyways, I am fighting my all right now to stay, and not going to back down, but if I end up going, so be it, I know I played a great game, and am glad with everything about it.   Pitching to people though that I'm not threatening at all, I literally have 0 moves on my resume at the moment, and how I just want to try beating 7th, because as of currently, 7th is my best placement.   Here goes nothing, and hopefully cards fall right, and Eve gets slain.

I’m kind of feeling hopeless after this round. Nobody actually wants to make the moves that need to be made, nobody wants to do anything actually smart. People are just being so short-sighted and playing for jury. Eve has an ego and will use it to make you believe that it’s her way or the highway. I feel like any cast with more than three braincells amongst them could really do something but, they won’t. Caeleb will win immunity yet again next round. I’ll go, then one by one they’ll go. I really just like, have no energy to guide these dummies to anywhere anymore. I’m tired. Even with immunity people are just ridiculously fake and annoying. 

I think Emma is the plan for tonight. She's playing a double agent type of game which is super dangerous and people are starting to see through it plus me and her don't have the best past so I'm fine with Emma going. It gets me to the Final 10 and gets me one step closer to the Final Tribal Council. I also think once Emma goes I'll be nobodies #1 target and that'll put me in a good position for next vote as long as Nicole doesn't win immunity again. Although who knows things switch around in this game so fast and it could be me going home because if Emma gets wind of her name being out there I see her coming for me just because of our past and I do think there is viable reason for people to flip their votes onto Me, if Emma campaigns for me to go. I'm hoping my name doesn't get dragged into the conversation and it just stays between Emma, Eve, and Darcy so I have no chance of going home tonight. I'm just gonna lay low after this bit of strategy talk but be around if the wind starts to shift onto me.

Fuck I’m not home and don’t want a stike this will be a quick confessional, Sammy I’m so fucking sorry about this but you have such a good social game and I need you gone to free up the field. Formed an alliance with Darcy today that was random but now I actually trust him which is wierd. Still fucking people over with Nicole it’s crazy how that’s working. Next round is final 10 o need to make it past it or I might cry, once I pass that hurdle I’ve never heard passed I’m good. 9th- 1st no bitter Jordan pines, don’t get me wrong though, 1st is still most preferred and it’s seeming achievable

Bye bye Sammy 

Ahh I have to turn my phone off and can't find confessional but my confessional is that I hate myself for voting Sammy 

I ate dinner, We're doing Sammy. Maybe these people have four brain cells instead of three. I however, still just have the one bumping around in my ear canal saying I might have a chance to win the game which is in fact, the stupidest thought I've had this whole round.

well well well....this round is a BIG OLE MESS, so i went into it last night thinking the vote was gonna be emma because she was leaking to nicole, but then i woke up and i guess the vote is on darcy, but Nicole tried to pull a vote on eve but because emma was involved and very loose lipped I would not have felt comfortable hiding that for almost 5 hours, so i told eve LOL.... but that built my trust up with eve and I thought it would make eve doubt emma even more but instead it seems to have made her want to keep her? which maybe means emma leaked the vote already?? which would be a good thing for me because then i didnt try to hide info that eve already knew, but so then that landed the vote primarily on darcy but honestly if darcy goes home this game is likely in the bag for eve, so I had to come up with something quick ! I have no idea if this is gonna go through but i put all my energy into selling this sarah vote like it was the end all be all move for us to make, when i dont think it is but if sarah can go home then the 5some that im viewing as Sammy/Caeleb/Eve/Jordan/Sarah would be down to 4 meaning theres wiggle room at the final 10 to potentially make a power move on a big player, without them being able to stay 5 solid and threaten rocks. They all seemed kinda hesitant but came around so im nervous, eve also asked for a back up plan which I said could be stoner, but the fact that she asked makes me nervous that shes gonna try to pull a fast one and be like "I think sarah has an idol we need to flip it !!!!!" which would be annoying but i wouldn't put it past eve. This also keeps all my potential numbers in those being nicole and then tommy/darcy emma and stoner, again IF this goes through, i could've lost darcy but then i just a 5v5 or if emma gets bold then a 6v4 and im powerless again. I think this was where i need to make a move and i hope it goes through but if it doesn't at least i tried !!!

I think tonight the night ladies, TONIGHT THE NIGHT I AM RELEASED, i mean if not sarah goes home and its whatever. I love love sarah and feel bad for blindsiding her like this. But I have confidence in Kevins decision here, hes trusted me, I have to trust him now.

[chaosunmasked-blog]

Denali is a River That Flows in Egypt...(or something like that)

Watched Legion today. It was amazing! The convoluted story and timeline that it set up was sure to be a head twister! Smart TV strikes again! I was drawn to looking up the story behind the eponymous mutant, and it seems like this show could be quite interesting. I would love to see if any of the characters we see besides Legion turn out to be his split personalities? If so, he's so far down the rabbit hole, I don't know how he'll get out.

Besides being completely absorbed into the storyline to forget that I have lung exercises to do (Yup, incentive spirometry. It's a bitch at first but it's worth it.) and the allusions to A Clockwork Orange, I also saw a little of myself in Legion. Well, I did have hallucinations that were on that level of fucked up. But what really got me was, will this man ever get better? He has a severe case of paranoid schizophrenia, and some extreme powers, which cause him to question reality at every turn. Even when he is somewhat normal and medicated, his hallucinations and delusions continue but in muted form. I felt a similar kind of hopelessness.

Honestly, I'm so far down the medical hole that I'm practically in Wonderland. I'm a mess. The doctor from somewheresville at the Super Specialized Clinic with some of the best doctors around still can't figure me out. I look at my lab results, and I'm a complete mess (before the overmedication bit). Not only are my lungs still not up to par with someone my age, I have recently found out that I lost 3lbs from last week and my calves are hurting like crazy. Also, my blood sugar is consistently a problem. Almost every time I'm in the hospital it's either too high or way too low. So...why hasn't someone checked by blood sugar? Oh wait they have and my fasting is normal, but when I eat. Watch out! The pseudo-diabetic is in!  

But, the question for me is, will I ever get better? Will anyone be able to get to the bottom of what's causing my body to fail so quickly before the end? Or will I be stuck like Legion with my increasingly worsening health as my only company? But, it was kind of liberating to think like that. I guess the reason is that I dislike going to the doctors and hospitals as I have all these tests and nothing conclusive pops up. Oh yeah, there's something wrong with you, but whatevs let's just chalk it up to Conversion Disorder instead of figuring out why your blood glucose is dangerously low when you have your "freezing episodes". The amount of ignorance and lack of intellectual curiosity or even the simple fact of doctors not doing their jobs properly, does wear on me. I've been to about 50 doctors and I haven’t even blessed the age of 25 yet. About 90% don't do their jobs correctly which puts the other 10% into crisis mode to try and save what's left of my wretched body.

Even this new doctor was considering Conversion Disorder. I didn’t even want to argue with the man. It's been brought up so many fucking times. I even decided to see a psychologist regularly to starve off the possibility, but it still gets brought up by medical doctors. I mean the doctor I have at the Super Specialist Clinic in the middle of somewheresville is a neuropsych doc. I mean wouldn't he have caught it? Jesus. I've actually been to three and all have been a resounding, no you don't have that.  

Shit, if I did. I probably would be better right now living out my dreams with my husband turned wife, whom I may or may not divorce. (I do have a guy in mind, but I'm not sure where his sexual interest lies nowadays.) I would have been a cinematographer capturing stories and trying to save what little human empathy we have left. I can tell all who question me, but it's medically necessary for me to live like a hedonist as stress is but too much for my weak constitution to handle. But no, I'm here typing on a computer as my hands scream bloody murder.  

My parents have gone off the wagon as well. My mom doesn't want to deal with it and neither does my father. They think that I'm just taking some time off, not really acknowledging the fact that I'm really sick and may never regain the ability to work again. However, my dad does have moments of clarity when he realizes how dire my situation is, but then he slips off into a mad delusional state asking me why I'm not doing anything for myself. (Maybe it's because I can barely walk 300ft without passing out and suffering a heart attack? I'm not joking. I actually did acquire some mild heart damage from doing the laundry. Yep. Just doing the laundry causes a mild myocardial infarction.)  

But, can I blame them? Nope. I don't even want to dwell on that too much. It's useless as my therapists say because there is nothing certain in the future for me. It's best to live in the present and appreciate what is working for you, which is the rule I live by.  

So, I just focus on my upcoming physical therapy appointment. I'm hoping that it'll lead to some improvement on my end instead of becoming the overwhelming disappointment late last year. One medication change wiped out months of accomplishments. But, we'll see what occurs this time.  

My hopes for now is that I'll be able to go back to my college or a college abroad. Frankly it's getting too expensive for me, and my future is wildly uncertain. It's not the time to be making $1 million bets right now. Seriously, it'll get that high if my dad has his wish.  

But the thing that led me here was me. I should have sought a second opinion, but I don't like doctors, probably more than most so... Whatevs. I wouldn't have gone anyway even if me from the future pulls up with a ventilator and a foot in the grave. I probably would have told her, but we had fun right? *Winky face* And I really did. I regret nothing. I just hope that I have enough juice left in the tank to pay off my massive debts at least.  

Random side note. I just discovered my college offered a major course online and I was thinking of switching because at least I could work from home right? Well, it turns out the courses are few and far in between. Up to a year wait  in some cases, and you can't even follow the course sequencing if you take it online. No college student should ever come across something like that at all, which makes me wonder. How many online students have actually graduated?  

Peace, till the next time.