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#these three have my brain in a goddamn chokehold
opti-mized · 11 months
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matchadobo · 5 months
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hello! can i request ace reacting to his female plus size s/o wearing a beautiful dress and makeup (the whitebeard pirates has a party to attend) because usually she barely do things like that and this is the first time he has ever seen her like this :D
ACE; the way you look tonight
wc: 688 i made it clear in my rules that i wouldn't do any appearance-specific request bc i just don't roll like that homie. buuuut i'd love to write for ace in this set-up 🔥🥺 thanks for the requesttt! but next time, please stick to my rules. warning/s: afab reader, all fluff, just ace being so whipped for you 🥺
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"i mean it now, i swear!" you reiterated as you give one more brush up of blush and a sprit of your perfume. after having one last look at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself one last smile at your appearance. "i'm coming out now, ace."
"i don't believe you at this point, i'll let the crew go ahead, oka- oh fuck!" ace fell backwards when you opened the door, completely lying on the floor. once he gazed at you, he mumbled through his breath that you once again took away. "oh fuck..."
he mused at you as you donned a tight, red dress to match his three-piece, red tux, its glitters shone and almost blinded him. the v-cut by the chest enhanced your mounds, the dumbass gulp as his saliva got stuck on his throat. you were garbed with an long, white gloves that made you look even more regal. you clutched a white purse, sophisticatedly lined with gold; it's a gift from him. and my god, the rouge you colored your lips and cheeks with seemed to have made you even more radiant. your eyes are more striking with the sharp eyeliner and voluminous mascara, he found himself getting lost at your eyes despite lying flat on the floor at your feet.
he had his mouth agape, sitting down to get a better look at you from head to toe back to your face again. a vivid, red blush made its way from his neck to his ears to his entire face. he pressed his lips together before hanging his head down low.
"i-i'd like to apologize," he said through the violent rhythm of his heart. "i shouldn't have rushed you, you look like a fucking princess." he covered his face, trying to calm down.
you found yourself smiling ear to ear, you bent down to your knees and placed a hand on his shoulder. "don't be silly, ace. i really took a long time, sorry for making you wait like that."
"no, no, i mean- l-look at you! this is the first time i've seen you so... so..." he seems to forget whatever he was cooking with his statement when he gave you one more look, the kind smile on your lips made his chest even tighter. your freckled lover just whined again, hiding his face in his palms. "will you please, please, do this more often? i-i just... love the way you look tonight. you're so... pretty." he can't keep his eyes off you, gaze frantically trying to memorize and engrave the way you look tonight in his brain. "i'll even help you! i'll curl or brush your hair! i'd learn make up! i'd go with you to shop for dresses, i'd gift you stuff!"
tears almost pooled in your eyes, you fanned them so as to not smudge your make up. you held his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks together as his mouth made that of similar to a fish. his eyes got even more frantic at your actions and at how close you are.
god, he is so in love with you. you really have him wrapped around your finger, on a goddamn chokehold. you just never stop taking his breath away, nor do you ever look unattractive to him even in your normal look without the cosmetics and accesories. your eyes somehow always look brighter each time you two lock eyes, he says he needs a map outta it 🤣.
"you're so cute~" you pouted, pressing a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. "now, enough dilly-dallying! i don't wanna keep the crew long!"
he'd always show you off and give you a spin each time he had the chance. the entire evening, he compliments you so much you'll feel your ears ring! but you're no complainer! ace always loves to shower you with love. and when a moment to dance comes whether it'll be a party dance or a slow dance, he'll always invite you and have you be completely free and happy with the way you look. that's just the kind of lover he is.
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xamaxenta · 20 days
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YEAHHHHH YOU GET IT. God I have no idea why I made Sabo the frontrunner as a guitar player because he has the best fashion sense. Pure white shirt puffy sleeves and a slit down to the navel. The back of that shit is just open which is why he has to have help with the clasp. Leather that clings to his legs his lower half in gen honestly nothing left to the imagination. They come outta the closet with Sabo dressed for the show and their bandmates just know despite them cleaning up rather well bc Sabo can't hide anything for shit.
Ace meanwhile I made lead singer purely so I could have the line about him begging Sabo to spare his throat so he can still perform later. No thoughts head empty kinda horny with this one. Wild because I usually write Acesabo dynamic-wise but this one au put me in a chokehold and said No. Saboace or No Dice. Life-changing tbh
Im losing my goddamn marblrs over this the SHIRT alone is so sexy like a clasp choker like collar that drops into the drapery of the puffy floaty fabric and the back is all open but cinches tight at the waist for the silhouette and then the sexy tease at the navel with the slit wow…
When he moves the glitter of sweat along his back AAAauwhauwh im going feral man
Ace helping him with the clasp 🤤
And listen your brain is absolutely GODTIER for making Ace the lead singer bc one hot obvs but two so he can beg and plead for Sabo to be gentle and not mess him up because he has to sing and perform for like three full hours and he cant lose his voice and Sabo just wants to BRUTALISE HIM!!! Bully him sabo!!!
Ace having the leather jacket to Sabos pants tho 😳…. Like it was a combo outfit and only th pants fit Sabo but the jacket was more Ace’s thing hehe…
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messier-47 · 8 months
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A study on Ethan Winters because Resident Evil's got me in a chokehold and bruh he's so fucked? I love him?
But also this is MAJOR "taking liberty" of a fictional character cause no chill. Warning: this is....long post, a character study
RE7, RE8
So admittingly I was tempted to write RE fanfic cause brain go brrrrrr at thought of spookiness but ultimately didn't however if I don't bleed out these thoughts and feelings about RE and Ethan Winters it's gonna fester.
First off, does anyone else think RE7 and RE8 have two different versions of Ethan? Which...could be excusable seeing as how there's a three year time gap and emotional stage difference, or it could be just "Ethan was always a [blank-slate] character and thus prime for storyline manipulation". RE8 we're given the desperate father ripping apart the world to get to his daughter, scrambling for a handhold against monsters and completely out of his league of bullshit. Whereas RE7 Ethan is so much more fascinating.
RE7 Ethan is my favorite.
Okay, so I watched RE7 gameplay with the intention of taking notes about his character and personality traits and HOOBOY is he an interesting character! So in the beginning we get so much context if you really stop to think about it. First, Mia's ID is a Texas one which means by the time she went missing 3 years ago, she was registered as a Texas resident and probably alongside her husband Ethan. (which i know about the "he's a systems engineer from LA" databook thing but he could both be a systems engineer from LA and be a Texas resident)
Now this bit i think is a little more...take with a grain of salt cause it's not verified but also; Ethan has always been "the ordinary man". so what would an ordinary man do when his wife goes missing around the same time there's a fucking HURRICANE in the gulf of mexico? He'd report it! Missing person's report! cause he's not a psycho with something to hide! His wife is missing! she was babysitting some rich brat along the coastline and he'd lost all contact after the Hurricane hit Louisiana! if her body were to wash up, the boat she was found, anything having to do with her disappearance, there'd already be a papertrail of proper protocol without the question "Why didn't you report her missing?"
So Texas may be different? idk, I think I heard something somewhere "after two years, a missing person's case is closed and legally declared dead" or something. maybe that's why ETHAN WINTERS GOES TO LOUISIANA ALONE TO FIND HIS PRESUMINGLY DEAD WIFE.
the "maybe this is all a prank" comment I'm willfully ignoring cause wtf Ethan what about the relationship with your wife made it okay to disappear for three years all for an elaborate ruse? Except somehow the "it's just a prank" is probably what pushed him beyond the limits of rationality. Abandoned van outside the house with "accept her gift"? obvious a mystery treasure hunt. Weird carcass effigy? gross and wow this prank is getting fancy. dilapidated house full of rot and rank? nice movie set bro, where are the cameras? especially with all the "fabricated" evidence of twenty people having gone missing around here and oh wow a convenient VHS about "paranormal investigators" to show where the secret chambers are. but goddamn his mental fortitude is strong to be able to jump in putrid basement water to go find his wife. dead corpse rising out of the waters and he just presses on, probably thinking it was fake or something.
Okay so then we meet Mia and Ethan's slow realization that this is totally NOT A PRANK cause of evil possession or whatever (honestly RE7 in Ethan's POV is hilarious cause he probably isn't thinking how this all ties in with bioweapons, legit thinking demons are the answer) but Ethan gets more talkative in a very interesting way; upon finding Mia, he is immediately interrogative. He's not the overly worried dad friend trying to make sure Mia is fine and that they should escape, no it's Mia who takes the lead in trying to escape cause Ethan is already "you've been missing for three years what the hell is going on?"
And...when Mia claims that she doesn't remember shit (telling the truth) Ethan doesn't believe her. He pulls away to investigate the next room over. and honestly it's understandable in his POV, even if he stops believing this is all a prank; his wife has been missing for 3 years and claims to not remember why she'd ended up here (also there's a history of Mia having lied about some pretty important details in the past?)
As we go on through the story, Ethan...personal opinion here, but he reads as pretty calloused. I know the fandom jokes/remarks about Ethan's "fuck this especially" meter throughout the games but goddamn in the beginning of RE7 his meter was already damn high. He's...bitter? prickly? i don't have the word for it, but he's definitely a man who'd gone to Louisiana to finally get some fucking answers from his wife.
You know what I found super interesting? His interaction with the sheriff. So policeman shows up in front of house Ethan is trapped in and like a regular person he goes "hey there's some crazy people here you gotta help me" and sheriff is understandably wary of the whole situation. But Ethan Winters takes a risk in manipulating the policeman to get what he wants "do you want to read about me in tomorrow's obituary or do you want to be the hero?" which is so interesting to me. Why would he use this tactic? and this is something Ethan decided to do, there's no game mechanic where the player chooses his response, this is Ethan Winters using the cop's ego to try to get immediate help.
Throughout the game, Ethan is shown to be...honestly he's damn quiet. Yeah, sure he talks and shows his personality but he keeps his cards close to the chest. All his talks with Zoe make it pretty clear that he is motivated on a singular goal and he isn't persuaded by this "we" talk Zoe keeps bringing up. Looking at fandom, I honestly thought Ethan was going to be a little more chatty and while he does have some one-liners and quips, they are not at the same level as...let's say Leon Kennedy. Also, his humor is different from Leon's. I watched RE2 and 4 and whereas Leon has a love for ironic+witty humor (also can't shut up), Ethan has more of a dry wit.
Watches older woman crawling down tunnel on four legs like a bug, "That's special."
Figures out shadow operated puzzle doors "Who builds this shit?"
manages to clear out bioweapon cesspit by himself and the professionals arrive "What took you so long?"
Hmmm, and I know fandom loves to rib about his IT guy attire throughout RE7 but have y'all noticed his fucking shoes? ankle cowboy boots. Understated, completely speaks about where he's coming from, but also fits with the "i'm modern and know software engineering" typecast. And his car? A 1971 Dodge Challenger (could be a Vanishing Point reference but honestly if it's not ment to be-) it's a retro muscle car. A classic. Our boy loves his cars and did you see how nice it was in the beginning? spic-and-span paint job with the nice interior finish, it looks like it was well taken care of and Ethan was confident enough to actually drive it out to cross-state roadtrip.
Another interesting thing that only adds to what we've already seen of him was when Zoe makes two serums, she offers both probably just to show Ethan that they were made and he takes both. Why? ...I'm not sure. If he was only grabbing for Mia, he'd just taken one and let Zoe have her own syringe. But he took both. thoughtlessness? or was it an added show of his character in COMBINATION of whatever the fuck was going on during his interaction with the sheriff? In actuality, it was probably just the videogame needing Ethan to have the two so that he can use one on Jack and he'd have the "hard" choice of choosing between Mia and Zoe. It's still a pretty interesting detail if someone would want to further look into it.
then there's the "Thanks Ethan for choosing me" "Who the hell else could I choose?" "Ethan!" which only solidifies Ethan's character for me; He's a jaded man in a desperate search of answers, not really doing all this for the heroics. makes me wonder if there had been a 3rd choice, would he have made a different one. (but i digress because that's stepping into potential shipping territory)
Ethan once again tries to get answers from Mia and when she isn't able to give anything more concrete, he just lets the silence hang. Admittingly, the silence could've been the videogame setting up for the epic reveal of the boat and mold tentacles but this is also repeated behavior. Ethan asks Mia questions twice, once in the beginning and the second time right now and when Mia claims to not remember anything/have told him everything, he distances himself. No, wait, I'm dumb, Ethan pushes for Mia to try to start remembering. Which...idk maybe I'm reading too far into this, was kinda sardonic? "I honestly don't remember." "Try." and then the silence happens...before the boat comes into view.
Sardonic isn't the right word. In my opinion, Ethan is a "quiet" man, not as outspoken as the rest of the RE cast, so it's really hard to read tone when i ain't given much to compare/contrast to. All his dialogue have a different weight because he talks so little. Compare his dialogue with Chris, Leon, Jill, anyone else within the franchise and his character is immediately drowned out by the titans of other personalities. But get him by himself? reflect on his circumstances, context, and what he does say? He's a deeply complex character, alot of his reasoning and background is hidden and left to be inferred.
He's not a "heroic" character. He's not doing all of this to defeat evil or get justice or make the world a better place. Of course he's a survivor but...he's got a "get 'er done" personality. Ethan goes to Louisiana for answers. The truth as he told Mia multiple times. If he has to go fight a family with a bad case of swamp fever to get those answers then so be it.
Headcanon time: I honestly think Ethan is a born and bred Texan. He might have gone to LA to get his degree and a job as a systems engineer (which may explain how he knew how to build a flamethrower) but there is something about Ethan that is more than just "he now lives in Texas so he wears cowboy ankle boots and drives a muscle car". it's the "get 'er done" attitude. Maybe part of the reason why he's so mentally resilient when faced with horror is because of this cultural mental state of "get 'er done". Also explains how he's so adept with a wide range of guns.
And...wow this has grown awefully long and I haven't even gotten started on RE8 Ethan Winters character study yet so lemme make a second post.
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galatially · 2 years
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𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 🫧
𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛
of the essence by @inklore — if y'all haven't read anything from lauren before, let this be your introduction; she's a fucking artist the way that she weaves her characters into existing universes and i can only hope to write half as well as she does
𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙
lovelorn masterlist by @tomdutch — do you like pining? roommates to possible lovers? all set in a college au with peter parker, reader, and cindy moon? well, s had you covered; or, the masterlist stayed in my drafts to remind me to read the updates and my jobs have killed my brain cells so please read this brilliance and give it lots of love!
sunrise, sunset by @peachyteabuck — i don't need to gush about how much i need lukis to fucking produce epics, but i will lol. they've taken such a sensitive topic and beautifully drawn us a world where grief is complicated and new normals are harder when you love people. honestly, this story made me fucking cry and do all the fangirl feel things and i need them to just never stop writing
𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠
friction by @faeology — this is my first time seeing @faeology on my dash but thank fuck i did because this was hot and needy and i could fucking feel the tension across my own skin between eddie and reader. if you're looking for palpable angst and genuine chemistry, go to sav and you'll be in heaven
it happened one night in detention by @mypoisonedvine — let me tell y'all something! the chokehold this had on me and my drafts was fucking insane! i'm pretty sure i read this five times before reblogging this because i was in such awe; the descriptions, the world-building! i wanna write like j.d. when i grow up lol
i don't play with my pen (i mean what i write) by @edens-pen — as a connoisseur of thirst tweet videos, i wish that this episode was real because goddamn! i love a good cocky!eddie fic and this did not disappoint. something about artists that are hot, know they're hot, but are still fucking cool and shit? unmatched energy. not gon' hold y'all though, i'd have been loud and proud about wanting eddie to just ruin me on twitter dot com lol
june baby: one, two, three by @luveline — i fucking love this series and every day i get on, i'm hoping to see that jade's updated so i can follow the adventures of eddie, reader, and june bug! i'm so attached to these three like they're friends of mine and i love watching their relationship deepen and, as a fervent slow burn lover, i'm foaming at the mouth for them to finally kiss!
a little mean for me by @upsidedownwithsteve — firstly, i love steve harrington, right? like, he went from being this asshole who's only personality trait was his money and his status to being a real fucking person, you know? one of my favorite characters, hands down. secondly, just because of this story, i want him to affectionately bully and kiss the tears away
𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑔𝑢𝑛
my feet can't touch the bottom of you by @sunderlust — i know nothing about the top gun franchise other than tom cruise is in it and val kilmer used to be, lol. but the way people like laur and sol write about the characters, maybe i'll bite the bullet and watch them? even if i don't, sol's description of jake "hangman" seresin is perfectly arrogant and aloof and i wanted to grind his balls under my foot for hurting my bartender babe
veracious and coveted facade by @inklore — laur, at this point, this is my proposal for your hand in matrimony because why the fuck do you write such masterpieces for mere mortals like me to gaze upon? who told you?
lurk by @zstrn — tori, my love, i stand ten toes on what i said: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw can have his feet planted on my mattress to turn me into slime. UNTIL THE FOULEST OF STENCHES LEAVES THE ROOM OKAY
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𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i didn't read much because of jobs and lack of time after them but i did read some real gems so please, please give the lovely people reads and keep them writing!
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the-very-rubiest · 2 years
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4 5 7 12 25 36 53 💫 can't decide on less i'm afraid
And I'm glad you didn't! So many questions, THANK YOU, you're a gift and a blessing. Without further ado, here goes:
4. what are you looking forward to?
Right now? The time after my exams when I'm finally FREE and don't have to constantly choose between forcing myself to study or the nagging guilt of not-doing-enough. The BC show + VIP thingy in September (GJPA if you ruin this for me, I will commit actual arson). Hopefully getting to travel and leave the gODDAMN COUNTRY again in October (maybe for a week?) and seeing a plane from the inside for the first time since 2019. All of these are so uncertain right now. And everything else is even MORE uncertain. Help 😭
5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?
A whole list of people! The first one is my dad, who can eventually get me laughing again no matter how sad, frightened or grumpy I am. My best friend, who's basically my family at this point and has been a constant in my life when everyone else keeps coming and going. My best guy friend from uni, who's just the best kind of Lunatic (affectionate). As far as celebrities go, the one-n-only Joel Hokka. And now…I guess there's you, too. This is gonna sound cheesy, but talking to you has unlocked a part of my personality even I didn't know I had, and it scares me a little but I wouldn't have it any other way.
7. what was your life like last year?
Like, exactly one year ago? Pretty bad, but about to get better. Lockdowns still had my mental health in a chokehold, my brain was constantly trying to convince me I was severely ill and dying over the tiniest things, I was skinnier than ever and just felt frail and like I was fading. I'd gotten my first vaccine dose recently, and between the world opening up and my mom making me exercise and finding refuge in the world of fiction I was slowly regaining my sanity. Then a few days later PMA by All Time Low and Pale Waves came out and it revived me a little, and another few weeks later I got my second dose and decided to finally check out BC after knowing of them for a while and my life has gotten so much better since. The rest is history.
12. what is something you want right now?
Already answered here, but I'd like to add: Some time where I don't constantly have to do something, enough that I don't need to fret and decide what to do with my precious few unscheduled hours. The power and motivation to study for my oral exam, as much as I need to study. Some certainties where so much in my life is uncertain. Right now, those are the most urgent things.
25. role model
I don't have just one, I steal traits and skills from everyone I find cool like a greedy little magpie. I guess the closest to an aspirational figure for me is Aleksi though? I admire how comfortable he seems in everything he does, the effect he has on people, the way he can win their love so effortlessly and keep it despite his quirks and pointy edges. One day I'd like to have the same effect on others, radiate the same comfort and childlike joy of life paired with twinkly-eyed maturity. I guess it's because I see so much of myself in him that this actually seems achievable, you know?
36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?
I was gonna say "Just three?" but now I honestly have trouble coming up with three at all. I'm not counting goals where achievement is just a matter of time here BTW, only "I hope this can happen someday/it'll likely happen but no idea when," no "this will happen in the foreseeable future."
Dream 1 is to move out to a place I like, a place that's my own, where I can decide what I eat and when I sleep and when I do chores and don't owe anyone an explanation when I want to go somewhere. Just…freedom within four walls. That's all I ask.
Dream 2 is to find someone I love who loves me just as much and just…experience what it's like to love and be loved. Build a life together if it works out. If not, at least know what it feels like and that I'm capable of experiencing it…does that make sense?
Dream 3 (AKA the most unrealistic one…I guess?) is to create a story that finds a large audience. I'm talking active online fandom, fanworks, maybe even an adaptation of some kind? I wouldn't even wanna be famous for it myself. I'd just like to see something I write reach so many people and see what they create out of it.
53. 5 things that make me happy
1: Listening to my favorite songs, undisturbed and uninterrupted, just jamming out.
2: Getting friends or loved ones into stuff I'm into.
3: Plushies!
4: That feeling of being done with a task (or just your work for the day) and knowing you can kick back and relax now.
5: Doing my silly little exercises and seeing how strong I've gotten. Progress! 💪
Well! Those were all the questions. Thank you for these, you made me literally bare my soul in front of you, hope you enjoyed the ride! 💖
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badacts · 4 years
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eyes on me (pt.4)
This fic is about Gotham’s revenant problem.
(part one) (part two) (part three)
Gotham is a stinking, ratshit city sulking in a sickly combination of sea fog and smoke. Goddamn, Jason missed it.
Things he didn’t miss so much: being in the same locale as his own headstone. 
He’s aiming for the grave of Marc Rand, recently undeceased, but his feet move of their own accord to a spot on the northern side of the cemetery. He’s been here once before - it was raining, and he’d been sick when his boots stirred the smell of wet soil underfoot, spent the night shaking and sleepless in the dingy studio apartment he’d been squatting in.
Now, his helmet filters that out. He takes in the smooth white marble of the twin headstones, one for Catherine and one for him. A memento to his old life, still bedecked with a bouquet of white carnations. 
He’s not sure what possesses him to look closer at the flowers. They’re fresh white, unstained by smog and age so far, with a card on the tie binding the stems. He’s expecting the name of one of Bruce’s society pals, looking to make nice by dropping flowers on some dead Crime Alley kid’s grave, or maybe some stalker Wayne fan. 
Instead, the card says: I am the soft stars that shine at night.
“I am not there,” Jason murmurs, words falling like stones into the silence, “I do not sleep.” 
He always loved that poem. It’s either a particularly on-the-nose joke on Bruce’s part, or something else entirely. And he knows it’s Bruce - even in the florist’s typography, the ‘- B’ is instantly recognisable to a child who grew up in Wayne Manor.
So that’s why he follows Tim back to the Cave from the hospital. That, and the fact that his replacement may or may not fall off his bike on the way without supervision.
Of course, Timmy doesn’t seem particularly pleased to have his help. If looks could kill, Jason would be dead for the second time right about now.
“Just sit there and don’t touch anything,” he tells Jason, pressing an ice pack to the back of his head with his left hand while typing at the computer with his right. He sounds grumpy. Not angry, as such, but still low-key pissed that Jason dared give him a teeny, tiny concussion.
Really, he should have caught himself. Jason is good, but so is Red Robin, and Red Robin can’t afford to be taken out by an (admittedly ably assisted) tumble on a rooftop.
Jason is going to keep putting down the fact that Tim did get him in a chokehold to his brief moment of mistaken sympathy. He’s going to have a bruise in the shape of Robin’s shinguard on his throat to remind him of that, too.
“Here,” Tim says, files folding out across the largest screen. “This is everything I have on Rand. I’d read it to you, but I’m still seeing double.” Because he’s dramatic as hell.
“I didn’t grow up on the same street as you, but I can still fucking read,” Jason snaps, waiting for Tim to vacate his personal space before he steps closer to the computer. There’s a discarded batarang there, gleaming black against the table, and Jason can’t resist picking it up to feel the familiar weight. Tim isn’t watching, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Probably.
Of course, before Jason can start the aforementioned reading, the Batmobile pulls into its spot, its familiar snarl cutting to silence. 
It’s not like Jason didn’t know there was a decent chance of running into Bruce when he came here. It’s just that he’s never as prepared for it when it actually happens as he thinks he will be beforehand.
Batman is hard to read in the cowl, but Jason can tell he isn’t surprised to find the two of them here. His attention jumps to Tim, still holding the ice pack, and he demands, “What happened?”
“Hit my head,” Tim replies, surly, with another of those killer looks at Jason. “It’s fine. We’re going over the Rand case.”
“Let me look,” Bruce replies, pulling back the cowl and letting it hang down his back. Tim, sighing, allows it with bad grace. “Were you knocked out?”
“No. It’s a mild concussion.” 
“They just don’t make Robins like they used to,” Jason says lightly, because he doesn’t want to watch this - the Bat clucking over his newest chick.
“I’m not the one that died,” Tim points out. He’s a shithead, and any regret Jason might have felt over giving him a head injury evaporates.
“Not yet,” he says, and even he isn’t sure whether it’s a threat or not.
Bruce pulls away from Tim, pressing the ice pack in Tim’s hand back into place. “We’ll get Leslie to check you.”
“I’m fine!” Tim exclaims, waving his free hand in exasperation. 
“We don’t take risks with head injuries,” Bruce says, like it’s a lesson learned by rote, right before he turns his gaze onto Jason. “Did you do this?”
Jason shrugs. “I maintain he did it to himself. Turns out he’s clumsy as hell.”
“Fuck you,” Tim mutters at him. Jason would have gotten a double swear jar penalty for that one, but Tim doesn’t even get a look.
“You injured him. Again.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “It was an accident, Bruce. I’m fine.”
“This,” Bruce points at Tim, like he’s pointing at a little cuddly bunny rabbit, and not a buck-sixty of highly-trained muscle and creepy, canny brain, “Cannot happen again.”
Jason leans back against the desk, casual. “Well, that’s it, Timmers. You had a good run, but Dad says no head injuries ever again. Time you retired.”
Bruce is scowling. “That’s not-”
“Or I can lend you a helmet,” Jason cuts him off, smiling. “The colour’s right and everything.”
“This isn’t a joking matter,” Bruce snaps. “You nearly killed him.”
It’s an atomic bomb of a comment. Just like he meant it to be. Tim looks surprised, but he shouldn’t. Or maybe Bats doesn’t talk to him that way, saves it all up special for Jason.
“Yeah,” Jason says, stripped bare of anything but the truth - no attitude, no humour, nothing, “I did. I hurt him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill you.”
There’s plenty he doesn’t regret. Plenty of blood on his hands he’d happily get all over again. But there are also things he would take back, starting with the sick bite of a chainsaw between the vertebrae of drug pushers and ending with his bullet in Tim Drake’s shoulder. 
Doing what he does is a necessity. He believes that to the core. The taste for violence, the pleasure in it, the crack and wavering of his control - that’s dangerous for him. It’s an addiction that he needs to kick. 
He’s not sure if his words are offering that up as supplication, or just rubbing what he’s done in Bruce’s face. Bruce doesn’t give anything away. He never really does; not for free.
“And every time you did, you took yourself further and further from what that represents,” he says, and points at the thing Jason has been trying to ignore this whole time.
His old uniform, enshrined and adorned with the worst inscription Jason has ever fucking seen. It’s certainly no do not stand at my grave and weep.
Because Jason isn’t dead, but the kid he was? The kid that Bruce claimed as his own, the one he claimed to love? That kid is. And this is the grave.
A good soldier. A good fucking soldier.
“Bruce,” Tim says, and he sounds tentative. He’s watching Jason’s hand, while Bruce is looking him dead in the eye.
“Every time you do, you prove me wrong for ever letting you wear it,” Bruce continues.
“Fuck you,” Jason rasps, and throws.
It’s a direct hit. The glass cracks and falls in a cacophony, echoing in a roll across the cave to the point it compounds on itself. The batarang lodges directly into the armour over where Jason’s fifteen-year-old heart would have been.
“Fuck you,” Jason’s mouth says. “I was never your soldier.” His brain, that part of him that has been getting quieter and quieter since he left this place, the useless part that screams you replaced me over and over, is deafening. All he can hear is that, and the insistent thrum of his own heart.
There are hands in the front of his jacket. He and Bruce are eye-to-eye, and it gives Jason a great view of his rage. In that moment, Jason has never been surer that he’s about to be hit, and that’s saying something, considering his entire life.
He’s holding the front of Batman’s uniform so tight that his nails are breaking on the kevlar weave. 
“Stop.” That’s Tim, probably not for the first time either. But this time he prises himself into the space between them, unignorable. 
Bruce leans back immediately, letting Jason go. Unfortunately, Jason can’t quite convince his hands to release, or his brain to stop screaming.
Tim is holding his wrists, face very series. He whispers, “Breathe.” Jason wants to break him in half, but he doesn’t, and he doesn’t, and he doesn’t.
His fingers relax.
“Gentlemen. What on earth is the meaning of this?”
It’s Alfred. He looks furious.
All three of them freeze. Then Tim lets go of Jason like he’s on fire. It would be funny, if it weren’t for Alfred’s gimlet gaze bearing down on them. Or if the entire preceding five minutes hadn’t happened.
“Master Tim,” Alfred says after a long moment where none of them move, “I believe you have some homework to finish.”
Tim opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, and then sees the escape route for what it is and takes it like the scuttling schoolboy he is. 
Once he’s gone, Alfred turns. “Master Bruce.”
There’s a very long silence. Then Bruce says, “Hrn,” and turns away in the direction of the showers.
That just leaves Jason, still taut with adrenaline to the point his hands shake, standing below, and Alfred like an avenging angel above him, and a pile of glittering glass shards in the corner.
“Master Jason,” Alfred says, and then smiles. “Welcome home.”
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himbowelsh · 7 years
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“I’m calling it. We are lost in the woods.” + luztoye (im in love with the way you write those two)
grim grinning prompts (NO LONGER ACCEPTING)
AN: ahh, thank you cutie, i’m in love with this ship!
Every cell of Joe’s body is screaming that this is a horrible idea. The problem isn’t that he’s reckless, or stupid, or ignorant to the dangers involved in sneaking off into the woods alone at night... if he’s being honest, he just can’t make himself care.It’s hard to worry about anything else when he’s got Luz’s hand in his, dragging him along like a rider would lead a stubborn horse. Luz is a distraction all in himself. He is overpowering, all-encompassing. Sometimes Joe’s convinced he’s the most exasperating person he’s ever met.
He’s the most entertaining, the most resilient, and has one of the best hearts of anyone Joe’s ever met.
People tend to assume that Luz annoys him -- and a lot of times, yeah, he does. The thing is, Joe knows exactly what type of person Luz is, past the surface layer of wisecracks and silly voices. Perhaps that’s why he finds himself playing along, every single time. It’s very difficult not to dance to Luz’s beat, but Joe’s always been good at keeping himself from being pulled into other people’s orbits. With Luz, however, he finds that he doesn’t mind.Joe would probably do whatever Luz asked him to. He’s convincing, and adventurous; saying yes to him never seems as bad of an idea as it probably is... until it’s too late.As of right now, being dragged through the woods by a very determined Luz, that moment still hasn’t quite hit. Joe can feel it gnawing at the back of his mind. They shouldn’t have left the rest of the group; they shouldn’t have snuck into the woods at night; this is how horror movies happen, and how the stupid people die first. Right now, he and Luz are being the exact type of people who he’d be screaming at through a TV screen, and Joe knows it.For a second, turning back seems like the only rational thing to do — and then another sharp yank from Luz jerks him out of his wariness. Yeah, this is probably an awful idea, but who the hell cares?They came out here for a reason, after all, and no one has ever called Joe Toye a coward. He’s not going to backtrack because of some invisible threat in the woods when Luz is very present, in front of him, right now.Luz finally stops in the middle of a grove of trees, and releases Joe’s hand. Slowly, he turns to face him; an impish grin lights him up, the only thing brighter than the moon in this otherwise dark forest. Joe looks at him and feels a current of electricity twine around them both like greedy, starving hands.“It’s official,” Luz declares. “I’m calling it. We are lost in the woods.”“Whose fault is that?” Joe demands, taking a step close. Luz’s eyes sparkle.“Well, ya know, you could lay the blame wherever you want, but I think it really comes down on whoever decided camping out in these parts was a great idea, or maybe the idiot who decided to sneak away in the first place —“Joe rolls his eyes and reaches out, seizing George by the collar of his shirt. The other man’s words cut off in a short “urk”, but he doesn’t protest. Rather than straining, he sinks into Joe’s chest like he was craving this contact all along. Now that it’s finally here, he could not look more pleased with himself.
”You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joe tells him, and ducks his head to kiss him.
There’s no protest from Luz; he’s getting exactly what he wants. As soon as Joe offers him a taste, he goes after the entire prize with fervor. He presses himself against Joe, kissing hard and gripping harder, until they are both breathing heavily and clutching each other like they are the only things on earth.
”Aah, Luz,” Joe hisses, tree bark digging into his back. “God --”
Luz detaches himself from Joe’s neck, looking as debauched as he does wicked. “Am I really hearing a complaint right now?”
”Come on,” Joe hisses, and they both know what he’s really saying. Don’t stop. Never stop. As long as it’s you, I don’t care where we are or what we’re doing. I could stay like this forever.They’re so lost in each other that even Joe, whose reflexes are sharp on a bad day, isn’t paying attention to their surroundings. He can not focus on the crackle of dried leaves beneath their feet when Luz’s mouth is attacking his. He cannot worry about the ever-present feeling of being watched when they are surrounded by darkness, and it is the one thing concealing the hand steadily inching up the back of his shirt.
He isn’t paying attention to anything except Luz, Luz, Luz.
Not until the noise.
It’s not the sort of noise you’d expect to hear in the woods, or one that can be explained away. It’s not the cracking of branches, or the whistle of the wind; it’s not the low groan that slips past Luz’s lips as Joe’s fingers dig into his back. It is a roar, the sort no animal could make -- a steady rumble that starts deep from the bushes behind them and embeds itself inside of Joe’s bones.
It lasts for three seconds, then stops. The world goes silent once more.
For a second, neither one of them move. They are both in disbelief, too caught up in uncertainty to process what actually happened. Then Joe pulls back, slowly turning so that Luz is against the tree, while he’s standing in front of him.
“Joe?” Luz’s fingers dig into his shoulders, hard enough to bruise. His eyes are wide; his skin looks translucent in the moonlight. “What was that?”Joe remains silent for a second, straining to her another sound, before he replies, “I dunno.”They both know what it sounded like, but neither wants to say it. Neither of them want to say “did that sound like a fucking chainsaw to you?” because saying it out loud makes it real, and let’s just say neither of them are prepared to face that.
It wasn’t a chainsaw, Joe tells himself firmly, even as every muscle in his body tenses up. It was a bird; a deer; a freaking bear, whatever the hell lives in these woods. It was not, by any realm of possibility, some maniac with a giant weapon lurking in the shadows.
Their breaths are heavy and rasping in the night air. Luz’s eyes are impossibly large, gaping up at him for answers Joe does not have. Joe can feel his heart pounding like a drum, hard enough to burst out of his chest.
“Joe,” Luz says again, and his voice is small. Joe’s fingers tighten around his shoulders.
That’s when he sees it.
A figure lumbers out of the shadows, faster than anything that size should be able to move. He is bulky, bigger than Joe with just as much muscle -- but the most alarming thing about him is the massive chainsaw he holds, which glints in the light when he moves.
Joe curses out loud and shoves Luz back. He hears him hit the tree hard behind him, but all his attention is focused on the maniac lumbering towards them.
He should have listened to the goddamn horror movies.
Logic says he should run away. Logic says the only sensible thing to do is to haul ass, if they want to avoid becoming the next skin suits in some crazy fucker’s collection. Logic has very little sway over Joe when he’s good and pissed off -- and nothing makes him see red faster than someone threatening the people he cares about. Especially George Luz.
Logic says you should not tackle the guy holding a chainsaw, but fuck logic.
They both go down, the chainsaw screaming all the way. Joe is on top of the dude, throwing punches into any vulnerable area he can reach. The chainsaw shrieks near his neck, not drawing nearer but definitely too close for comfort. Joe twists the man’s arm, hoping to force the weapon from his hands.
It doesn’t work -- the guy recovers fast enough to land his own punch to Joe’s face, sending him reeling back. He has just enough time to see the chainsaw swing before he ducks to avoid it -- but a blinding pain catches him in the shoulder all the same.
Joe hollers, falling back. This is the only thing that keeps the saw from severing his arm. As he hits the ground there is a sickening noise, and the agony that blinds him is enough to make him howl again. His arm is still on, but only just --and now the guy with the chainsaw is charging towards him.
The guy’s wearing a fucking football helmet, Joe thinks deliriously. This is the worst knockoff Friday the Thirteenth they’ve ever made.
He tries to stagger to his feet, but the blood loss makes him dizzy. He overbalances, a noise like a wounded animal escaping him as he hits the dirt once more. His leg comes out to try and catch the maniac in the knee, but he falls short. The chainsaw raises, glinting in the moonlight.
Then suddenly another howl echoes through the forest -- deranged, terrifying, like a thousand rabid monkeys descending all at once -- and Luz flings himself onto the maniac’s back.
What happens next is so chaotic that Joe’s distraught brain can barely process it, let alone believe it. Luz rains a volley of blows upon their attacker’s rock-solid back and shoulders, but the only place they have any effect are his neck. The man thrashes, trying to throw him off, but Luz is on him and won’t let go. A sold punch to the throat sends the chainsaw falling to the ground, and that’s when Luz gets him in a chokehold.
It’s over in a solid twenty seconds. A body that big needs air, and when it can’t get it...
As the maniac collapses to the ground, Luz falls off of him. He’s breathing hard, but still has the presence of mind to kick the chainsaw out of his reach. Their attacker looks like a massive fallen tree on the forest floor. He does not move, even when Luz leaps over him to get to Joe’s side.
“Jesus, are you okay? Joe, talk to me, buddy, come on --”
“My fucking arm,” is all Joe can say; then, after a beat, “Did you just fucking choke him out?”
“You’re damn right I did,” Luz replies, and flashes that grin -- the one that drives Joe crazy, the one he would do anything for, the one that made him fall in love with George Luz in the first place.
That grin is the last thing Joe sees before he passes out.
(”And that,” finishes Luz, “is why you gotta take those horror movies seriously. You might learn something one of these days?”
“Like what?” Guarnere snorts. “That you’re a fuckin’ liar? That didn’t happen.”
“Or did it?” Luz shoots back, fixing Guarnere with an intense stare. When Guarnere looks over at Joe -- alive and in one piece in his own bed, where he’s been struggling to hide his smirk throughout Luz’s story -- he gets only a raised eyebrow. Suddenly, he’s not so sure.
“Alright. You are the horror movie stereotypes,” he retorts, and that’s the end of the argument.)
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scifibi · 7 years
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top 5 and bottom 5 kudos fics
tagged by @leralynne and @prosciuttoe
Rules: Tag the person who tagged you, always post the rules, answer the questions, and add the date!
What are your five most popular works? (in descending order)
1. I Think You're Cute
Or, the one where Bellamy and Clarke meet on Instagram. (10k) 
wow okay i really didn't expect this to be my most kudos'd fic? tbh this was one of those on-a-whim ideas that i didn't plan and just wrote. thanks @ D.R.A.M for the inspo i guess! 
2. Must Be Love (On the Brain)
Or, the one where Clarke Griffin wishes the annoying boy who always sits next to her in class would shut up and let her listen to her professor. Her professor also happens to be really pretty. (4k)
credit to @hiddenpolkadots for this one, this was supposed to be just a short 1k+ fill for a cute idea that ended up becoming a whole Thing bcos i'm incapable of excluding SOME type of Development
3. Keep Me Running
Or, the one where Steve and Diana meet at the gym. (3k)
JUST BEING HONEST, i was NOT expecting the overwhelming reaction this fic got??!?!? this is literally one of the Simplest drabbles i've ever written (in my personal opinion), it was just me fleshing out one of my nice little wondertrev daydreams where no one dies, and just, i mean, WOW.
4. a kiss is not just a kiss
Or, the one where sleepy Clarke accidentally kisses Bellamy and turns his whole world upside down. (2.7k)
lmao tbh when i saw this i was like "whoaaaa thROWBACK", some Vintage Caramelle™, if you will. i feel like this is one of the first bellarke fics i ever posted that racked up some major Numbers? still got a soft spot in my heart for it <3
5. Love Me Tinder, Love Me True
The one where Clarke decides she’s ready to start dating again, and Bellamy is stuck trying to figure out if there’s a difference between platonic, protective concern, and plain jealousy. (7.8k)
credit to @katchyalater for this gem of an idea! lmao imo this might be one of the cHEESIEST things i've ever written -- literally EVERYBODY saw that "twist" coming from a mile away djskfhskjhskd -- BUT also imo, it's Cheesy in the Best Way Possible.
What are your five least popular works by kudos? (in ascending order)
1. uncurling lifelines
Clarke returns. She and Bellamy learn to untie their hands and hearts. (2.3k)
i only ever write canonverse prompts when i get specific prompts for it OR if i'm feeling unbearably emo about bellarke. this was one of the emo moments, lmao. (also i was already out here with them angsty haircut fics literally the week 3x02 aired djskhfkjsfhs wHAT A FKIN DRAMA QUEEN) 
2. the bigger they are, the harder they fall
The one with Raven, Roan, and the emoji dispute. (800 words)
OKAY Y'KNOW WHAT the idea of ice mechanic had me in a gODDAMN CHOKEHOLD FOR A MINUTE SO DON'T EVEN @ ME. (gotta say tho, these two were SO much fun to write..... but now i'm team sea mechanic lmao peace)
3. You Still Feel Like Home
Or, a modern, non-supernatural take on the La Llorona torture scene, featuring Seth and Kate as bitter exes (and no torture). (6k)
this was like 50% smut and 50% angst (neither of which are my wheelhouses) but dAMN i had to work out the sethkate angst SOMEHOW!!!
4. touch me and then turn away (you put your hands into my flame)
They are who they are, and they will destroy each other only as many times as they will put each other together. (2k, bellarke)
long story short, i got super emo about bellarke's fight in 3x05, may or may not have had some wine, and then spent about three hours listening to a shit ton of angsty music. 
5. This Could Be Easy
Or, the one where Kate is a newly minted detective, and Seth is the grouchy old-timer she gets stuck with. (8k)
still one of my fave sk fics! a teensy bit more Drama than i'm used to writing, but the mexican honeymoon vibe really played off for me here, just that it was flipped over to the other side of the law, lmao. 
that's everything up till now (23rd august 2017)! i didn't include prompt fill collections bcos it just doesn't make sense to do that imo. 
tagging @hiddenpolkadots @katchyalater @goldenheadfreckledheart @nathenmiller @wellsjahasghost @kay-emm-gee @spacexualkids
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baskny-blog · 7 years
Text
NOLA's Grosser Gets Personal; Raps, Relationships, and Reality on His New Project "PONY"
Photography: Connor Crawford
Rarely does a project from an underground artist manage to strike the intricate three-way balance between raw emotional content, well executed and thoughtful rhyming finesse, and most importantly, organized packaging that is clear and concise. New Orleans based artist Grosser manages to check off all three of these boxes on his second project “Pony,” released January 21st
Production wise, “Pony” is a refreshing menagerie of booming, lo-fi production that thumps with percussive fury. Stylistic tropes of the quintessential southern sound are blended effortlessly with rugged lyricism and delivery that seems to be clearly rooted in the east coast sonic movement. This pleasantly unconventional stylistic pairing is in many ways a metaphor for Grosser himself as an artist; a VA born and raised emcee transplanted to New Orleans, a city rich with hip hop history.  
“Pony” as a project functions almost like a Pandora’s box of emotion; once you open the lid the emotion literally flies out. Grosser seems to share his deepest self with his listeners; with depression leading to despair, and finally manifesting in the cold, steeled sense of determination present throughout the entire project. This honest and thoughtful display of emotion makes “Pony” as relatable as it is inspiring; it’s the story of an emcee passionately battling his own depression. The star studded features on “Pony”, including Chicago based artist LUCKI (f.k.a. Lucki Eck$) serve to further strengthen the ability of “Pony” to stand alone as a complete project. Raw talent, thoughtful honesty, and a focused aesthetic make “Pony” a must listen and confirm Grosser as an underground emcee that deserves close attention.
  Photography: Ben Davis
I had a chance to chat with Grosser about himself as an artist, “Pony” as a project, his creative process, and the next steps for him and his sound.  
B: Let's start basic: where are you from, what’s your background, and when did you start rapping? Grosser: I was born and raised in Virginia, and then moved to New Orleans for college. I graduated from Tulane with a degree in philosophy and political science, and couldn't even come close to bringing myself to leave NOLA after I graduated. As far as rapping, I was freestyling with homies a bit at the end of high school and a lot in college, and then started writing stuff down when I was about 19. I've always been playing music though. I've played drums for over a decade and played other instruments throughout my childhood and adulthood. Rapping became my outlet as I grew older and my life circumstances began to drastically change. B: What would you say your biggest sonic influences are in general, including music outside of hip hop? G: This is a question I take very seriously I'd say the first band to really influence me deeply was Rage Against the Machine, who I probably still consider to be my favorite band. I was influenced by politically driven hip hop at first, like Immortal Technique and shit. Now a days I'm genuinely influenced by the whole spectrum, from popular top 40 to very lo-fi indie music. Obviously I'm drawn to Atlanta, Chicago, LA, New York, you know, cities with hip hop strongholds, but I'm also influenced by all the various niche movements - like what's happening in Broward county, FL right now, and all the infinitely deep corners of soundcloud in general.  I have a bunch of friends in bands here in New Orleans so I have a decent pulse on the general indie band scene. Finding new music and new influences is what gets me up in the AM.  
B: Wordup, what would you say your biggest hip hop influences have been? G: Yeesh - at the start it was just the 90s and the greats -  Nas, ‘pac, Zack de la Rocha, Immortal Technique, Tribe, Eminem, Kanye, Wayne, Company Flow, Dilla, MF DOOM, stuff like that. Then I became obsessed with Earl, still am, and now find myself influenced by a ton of different modern hip hop shit - Travis Scott, all of OF, Thug, Future, Carti, A$AP. The list is low key endless because I can be influenced not only by someone's sound but also their place in the culture/the fabric of the genre. I don't rap like Uzi but I'm definitely enamored by his and someone like Yachty's aesthetic. However, if I had to pick one rapper that I was straight taking notes from, teaching myself how to rap, it’s definitely Earl back when I was in college. Earl is a fucking mastermind - raps wise and production. B: As a white rapper, what do you feel your role is in hip hop right now, given both the tumultuous situation the country is in right now, and the revolutionary origins of the genre itself? G:  I think it's massively important for white people to be doing a lot more listening than talking, so that's what I'm focusing on. Listening to the POC and women in my community and those affected by all this madness more so than I. I'm very attracted to and identify with the revolutionary roots of hip hop.
B: If you could sum up “Pony” in three thematic concepts what would they be?  
G: I'd say the three most prevalent themes of “Pony” are the idea of self concept, battling w and understanding mental health, and relationships. B: What did this project mean to you? What do you want this project to mean for the listeners? G: First and foremost, I'm always trying to grow with each new project, even every new song I write, so that was my primary goal. I wanted to sound of “Pony” to impact the listener in a personal way, really invade the listeners brain and shit, both sonically and lyrically. But, I also see great benefit from being able to play something in public and have it be enjoyable to a general mass of people, so I try to maintain some form of radio-esque sensibility in what I'm writing these days. For the listener, I wanted “Pony” to be somewhat of a self-exposure; I find that that's generally why I make music period. I tend to feel, as many do, wholly unknown by everyone around me, and music is a way to show someone what's really going on in a matter-of-fact way. B: Talk about the influences of New Orleans and NY on your sound, as well as the ways in which these cities are different and/or the same. G: What I'll say is you just have to come here. New Orleans got me as a young kid and has turned me into an adult real fast. It's not America here, more like the northern Caribbean. The general swagger and demeanor the people is what I feed off of the most - it's pretty much impossible for one's surroundings to not bleed into their art. NY is a city that I personally have less experience in, but have spent time there and have immersed myself in the culture via art - mainly music but also visual art and poetry. I always feel like I have much less privacy in NY than in NOLA - just by nature of the design and population. New York artists were obviously the first to teach me about rap, and invented the genre itself, so I obviously owe a lot to the culture and people of NY. B: What do you think of the direction of hip hop currently, mainstream and underground? G: Shit, I think it's a goddamn renaissance. I do however think that the rapping ability of these modern guys gets overlooked and misjudged pretty immediately for a myriad of reasons; addiction to the culture over content, media representation, vocal inflection, the list goes on.  Admittedly, some of these 'rappers' aren't rapping, they are more after a pop music icon mold. That being said, the same judgements of inability were bestowed on to Young Thug until everyone looked up the lyrics to 'Halftime' on genius and tried to rap along with him, immediately realizing how fucking money he is...point being, a lot of these guys can flat out spit.
Grosser: To Me, It has some similarities to the abstract expressionist movement in the 60's and 70's. Artists were ridiculed for their lack of precision, style, ease of making work, abundance of work, perceived difficulty of work, etc etc. Just because someone closed their eyes while splattering a canvas with one color of paint doesn't remove it from genius. A similar mindset and ear; understanding this music as a 'avant-garde' movement, while treading lightly on classic examples of excellence is much needed for understanding/enjoying the raw talent of a lot of these guys. Don't get me wrong, there are a million wack rappers out there who I don't fuck with, but I just don't think that if someone doesn't bring a classically fire 16 then that removes them from the upper crust of hip hop. It’s all cyclical though, I wouldn’t be surprised if hyper-lyrical rap takes the main-stage in the coming years.
B: Art is often a reflection of life. Talk about the process; the feelings, events, passions, and people that went into the creation of “Pony”. G: I mean, for sake of not getting overly dark I won't get too deep into the details, but I had a woman in my life, and, for a thousand and one reasons, but largely due to my own deteriorating mental health at the time, it wasn't a safe or healthy relationship. All of those emotions, my battle with clinical depression, and the realities of living with all the other fun disease titles doctors want to assign are embedded into “Pony”, and pretty much all the art I do in general. Apart from my past relationship and personal battles with mental health, the concepts of truly knowing oneself (very difficult), and truly knowing other people (more difficult, probably impossible), drive a lot of my lyrical content. B: As an artist, if you could tell yourself one thing two years ago what would it be? What would you say to yourself two years from now? Where do you hope to be? G: If I could give myself a piece of advice two years ago I would say to put a chokehold on every penny you have an only spend money collabing with people that you really trust and you know you can benefit from. In two years I hope to have a big Internet following based off my music, you know, lots of Twitter and Soundcloud followers and all that, in addition to making records that people truly respect as great art. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream about fame, but my most important goal is to make music that leaves an impact with each listener, every single time.
Photography: Erica Lipoff
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