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crimsonlyinglilly · 19 days

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Day 10 Adrenaline

Fallen behind, but I'm back hopefully, Day 10 for whumpril

and returning to Familiar faces, set Season 3 ep 14, Esther fails to listen to Elijah, so he decides to make it clear he isn't going back to be her responsible dutiful son.

A little bit of grand theft auto and joyriding in front of the town should make that clear he hopes.

----

Leaving the house and stepping into the cool air was something he needed, after the many questions about his new family from people who knew his parents, the only ones he wanted anyway, airing out Esther’s past of failing to stay faithful to her husband was completely her fault for revealing his adoption to the town just so she could claim him.

Attempting to force him back into place, as the good dutiful son always there to look after his siblings when she got tired of them.

He wasn’t going back to that, unlike Finn, he had realised how much Esther had damaged them and was cutting her off, it just seemed she wasn’t listening. He had thought maybe after the morning talks she could accept it or just give him some space, he was wrong.

He had arrived tonight and within moments had been collected by Finn, once again moth- Esther’s errant boy, been warned not to embarrass her when he had tried to remind her he wasn’t her son anymore, let his tongue loose but she still refused to let him go.

So he had found himself alongside them as they welcomed the town, introduced themselves and he had frozen as Esther relieved the story of the son she had given up and was so pleased to be reunited with.

Thanking the Gilbert's and the town for taking care of him and giving her the chance to have her family back, it was only the fact he was meeting aunt Jenna’s eyes that had stopped him reacting.

Then Elijah had been left to answer the questions, so he had, it wasn’t like they were lies; no he was still a Gilbert, Uncle John was his bio dad, no he wasn’t angry to have been given up, Mrs Mikealson’s husband hurt his children, she has a history of extra marriageable affairs.

The weight of Kol’s arm over his shoulder reminded him of why they had left.

At first he had offered it as something to distract Kol and Rebekah from killing Matt, not quite the same way the dutiful son Esther wanted would have done it but then he wasn’t that son for her and while tonight everyone here would be linking him to the Mikealson name he didn’t need to worry about letting down the Gilbert family image.

Elijah had bitten back his temper a lot throughout his life, he was going to let it out tonight, a lesson to teach Esther that he couldn’t be forced into playing happy families, that the dutiful son he was a thousand years ago was long gone never to return.

He ignored the thought that this wasn’t him as he scouted out the car to use, the responsible older brother, Elijah Mikealson was taken a break, this wasn’t even Elijah Gilbert.

This was just Elijah tired of everything and letting it go, not smothering how he feels or caring about how it was going to reflect on him or his family.

Thinking of it that way he made sense why he picked the car he did, it was prefect if a little petty but Elijah had a long memory, and he always kept note of small injustices against them

Marcus’s new car, the one he’d been bragging about since before he got it, new, expensive and important to the one who had never missed a chance to taunt him over the cheer uniform, who had broken his bag when he was nine, had pushed him from a tree at seven.

Elijah smiled to himself as he led Kol towards it.

When the car proved locked, Kol shattered the window without question only asking what Elijah was doing as he hotwired the car.

—-

Elijah realises why Klaus and Kol used to have their horse races down the streets as he presses his foot down of the accelerator, he felt a rush of adrenaline as the car roared, and Kol whooped as the took a sharp turn around the front of the place.

They could have just taken the car and raced around the town but then he wouldn’t get to see Ether when it finally got through to her that Elijah wasn’t going back to her peacekeeper

Elijah caught view of Esther and Finn as they past the grand entrance the third time and pressed harder on the accelerator.

“You don’t mind if we crash” he called over to Kol, the rushing wind though both broken windows forcing him to speak up, Kol hadn’t bother to wait to Elijah to open the door to him and had repeated the way he had opened the driver side by shattering the other front door window.

“What?” Kol shouted back.

“I’m going to wreck the car.” he explained as they made another loop around getting closer to the parked cars, he was only risking the most expensive one in the lot. The kind of people that impression matter most, and the Mikealson’s ball was about to end with two of the sons crashing a guest’s car into the others.

“You're human.” Kol reminded

“I’ll make sure most of the damage is on your side.” he offered as much as getting Kol injured on purpose screamed wrong to him, it made sense since Kol would heal.

“Alright brother, do your worst.” Kol grinned, Elijah found himself grinning back.

He had spotted Grant’s and two more of the team’s members' cars parked in a line earlier, now it seemed, well that was just asking for him to crash.

He slammed on the break, his loud breath completely drowned out by the rushing air and screaming tyres as the car twisted, back wheels continuing to move despite the brake locking the front ones up.

He braced for impact.

Kol’s side of the car hit the other two, Elijah winced at the sudden stop, the jolt no doubt making the belt leave more bruises but after months of Klaus forgetting his strength or Elijah’s current weakness he was used to them.

Besides Kol had already shown him hold to heal them, earlier after his words to mother had pushed Finn and Klaus to react without thought in her defence.

In the aftermath of the clash with his ears still ringing from screeching metal and shattering glass he hears laughing, he finds himself laughing too, grinning over at Kol.

If he still had vampire hear he would no doubt hear Marcus’s and Grant’s choked sobs or curses, but he wasn’t so the only thing that mattered was Kol’s joy.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday10 #adrenaline #fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #the originals #fic #tvd fanfiction #au- familiar faces #the vampire diaries #the vampire dairies au #the originals au

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flourgirl · 3 years

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Even If It’s a Lie

Part I to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter drags you to one of his frat parties, and you realize something you should have a long time ago.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SO much angst, and lots of pining from Y/N. A couple swear words here and there.

A/N: I liked writing the first one so much that I couldn’t stop when it came to this one! Enjoy :-)

“This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye” -The Last Time, Taylor Swift

“Pete, I don’t know about this…” you said, looking yourself up and down in the mirror. You looked like a completely different person in the short burgundy dress that MJ had picked for you. The shiny satin contrasted with your dirty, white sneakers that hadn’t seen the light of day since you played tennis in the 9th grade.

“Trust me,” MJ had said when she was choosing your outfit earlier that day, “You don’t wanna wear any shoes that you actually like to a frat.”

“Why can’t you go with him again?” you whined, wishing Peter had somebody, anybody else, to accompany him to his “induction ceremony” into Sig Ep.

“I don’t think I’m what any of those frat guys meant when they said ‘Bring a hot girl’. Plus, you were Peter’s first choice,” MJ replied, nonchalantly biting her nails as you held the dress up to yourself. “That’s the one.”

“I’m not hot,” you sighed as you started to hang the many rejected dresses spread across your floor back onto the rack. “I wore a sweater with a cat on it yesterday. That I hand-knitted.”

“Well... you’re cute. And that’s good enough. Plus, you can keep Parker from getting plastered. You know he’s a lightweight,” MJ laughed, reminding you of the many times Peter had called you to pick him up from a late night of partying.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, still worried about the fact that you did not like parties. Or strangers, or crowds, or really anything that involved socializing with more than four people at a time. Peter had been the same way all throughout high school. That’s what made you guys so close, but... things hadn’t been the same since you started college.

Peter ran from the other room, smoothing the wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt that fit him just right. You saw him grin from behind you in the mirror’s reflection, and he placed his hands on his shoulders, jostling you lightly.

“Y/N! Are you excited! It’s your first college party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to look him in the eyes. You stared down at your feet, self conscious over how short you felt in your sneakers next to him.

“That’s not true. I’ve been to parties before! Ned’s birthday was just last month,” you reminded him. “Don’t you remember how you watched me bake a cake from scratch and your only ‘contribution’ was eating the buttercream?”

Peter laughed, ruffling your hair like you were his little brother. “No, Y/N, I meant a real party. With booze and music that’s so loud that you can’t hear what someone is saying. That kind of party.”

Your brows furrowed as you began to fully accept that Peter had changed. So, so much. He wasn’t the dorky kid from Queens that carried your books and watched your favorite animated movies with you just because anymore. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It didn’t take his spidey-senses for Peter to realize how upset he had made you. “Y/N, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to experience everything college has to offer.”

“I think you do that enough for both of us,” you muttered, plopping dramatically onto the couch. Peter followed you, running his fingers gently across your arm as you pouted into a throw pillow. “Couldn’t you have asked any other girl to participate in your frat’s misogynistic tradition?”

“I didn’t want to ask anybody else,” Peter replied. You sat up to look at him, fixing your hair and smoothing out your dress. “I promise, Y/N. I miss you. We never hang out like we used to.”

You rolled your eyes. “And whose fault is that? You’re always—”

“—it’s mine. I know that. So, just come with me tonight and let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, pulling out his signature puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to. “Come on. All you have to do is say the word and we can leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

----------------

Your nerves worsened the closer you got to the frat houses, not mentally prepared for how loud the music would be or all of the sweaty bodies that would inevitably be pressed against you on the dance floor.

As you approached Sig Ep, Peter gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked deep into your eyes, “Y/N. I meant what I said. All you have to do is tell me that you’re ready to go and we’ll leave.”

“You promise?” you asked, chewing on your lip.

“Promise,” Peter smiled, holding out his pinky to intertwine with yours.

Some tall, buff guy was standing at the doorway and greeted Peter with a fist bump. “Hey, Parker! Good work with the dime! She got a boyfriend?” You recoiled at his attitude towards you. It was as if you weren’t even there.

“Nah, Ryan. She’s off limits.” Peter replied coolly, pulling you inside.

You heard Ryan wolf-whistle from his post, causing you to roll your eyes. “Hell yeah! Didn’t know little Petey had it in him!”

Peter wrapped his arm around you, partly to make you feel better, but also because there wasn’t much space for you two to squeeze your way into the kitchen. “Just ignore him,” he said, handing you a red plastic cup, a bottle of Sprite, and a shot glass of vodka.

You peered up at him, unsure. You weren’t much of a drinker, but maybe, just maybe, it would help you ease up on your nerves. Swirling the liquids together into the cup, you downed it before recoiling from the burn. Cheap vodka sucked, you remembered.

“That’s my girl!” you barely heard Peter say from right next to you, feeling him patting your back before he did two shots himself, swallowing them as if they were water. “Come on, I have some people who’ve been dying to meet you.”

The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. He had called you his girl. You gripped his hand tightly as he led you down the hallway and onto the back patio, where a group of people sat crowded around a bonfire.

A girl with bleach blonde hair and a dark green dress that hugged her figure came running up to the two of you, practically jumping into Peter’s arms as she greeted him. “Peter! I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, you can sit next to me.”

She pulled Peter towards the bonfire, patting the empty spot on one of the benches next to her. Peter turned to nod at you, gesturing for you to follow them. Once again, it felt like you were invisible to almost everybody at this party.

The blonde girl leaned close to Peter’s face, giggling with an obvious drunkenness. “So, who’s your little friend?” she asked, waving her fingers towards you like you were some kind of pet.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” Friend. That’s all you’d ever be to him, especially when there were girls like her around.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy. Peter and I met in our thermodynamics class last semester,” she smiled, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “You should’ve seen him! He made everything look so easy.” You already knew that. Peter could do anything he set his mind to.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with her bright, gray eyes, which matched Peter’s shirt. “So, uh, who are you here with?”

“Oh, duh!,” she said before tapping the guy on her left’s shoulder, pulling him out of the conversation he was having with the people next to him. “This is Harry Osborn. We go way back. Harry, this is, uh…”

“Y/N,” you reminded her.

“Right! Y/N. She’s Peter’s friend,” Gwen told him. He nodded his head and offered a small wave before returning to his conversation. Of course, you thought to yourself. Peter had only asked you to come with him tonight because she was unavailable.

You stared back down at your stupid shoes as Peter and Gwen talked about titrations and bond solutions. Things that you knew nothing about. Was this why Peter was always out at parties? To see her?

You thought about Peter’s promise. Just tell him, you thought. Tell him you want to leave. But you knew that you wouldn’t. You knew that you couldn’t ruin Peter’s fun just because you decided to be a baby and get scared after just thirty minutes into your very first frat party.

Looking back up at Peter and Gwen, who now had her arms draped around his neck, you excused yourself to the restroom, wherever that was. You just needed a break. Peter nodded towards you before turning back to smile at Gwen.

----------------

A banging on the bathroom door startled you. “Hey, uh, could you, like, HURRY UP? I have to take a piss,” a boy yelled from the other side. You got up from the edge of the bathtub that you had been sulking on for the past five minutes to open the door.

“Oh. Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t know it was you.” It was Flash Thompson. Flash, the guy who had made Peter’s life a living hell in high school. “God, you look good. Hey, how’s about you waiting out here for me and we could, you know, catch up?” He winked at you and you wanted to throw up.

Your first instinct was to say no. How could you give Peter’s bully the time of day? But you thought about Peter and Gwen. Gwen. Gorgeous and smart and better than you in every possible way, who was probably sitting in Peter’s lap by now and running her fingers through his hair. Your heartbeat quickened as rage rushed through your body. You wanted to hurt Peter, like he had hurt you. “Yes,” you replied, before he slammed the bathroom door in your face.

One minute later, you were pulling Flash down the stairs and towards the backyard. “You washed your hands, right?” you asked, desperately hoping that the answer would be yes.

“Don’t worry, babe. I just peed. Everyone knows that as long as you don’t get it on your hands you’re all good,” he mused. “You use less water that way, too. Save the planet, am I right?”

You dropped his hand, mentally rolling your eyes, and continued trudging towards the bonfire. You watched as Peter turned to smile at your reappearance, which swiftly dropped once he saw who you were with. It seemed like Gwen had backed off when you were gone too. Was this some kind of weird, territorial act that she was putting on to prove that Peter liked her and not you?

Maybe you were overthinking, but it was too late to backtrack. You sat back down on your place next to Peter, the awkwardness thick in the air. Flash had decided to squeeze himself between the two of you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Peter leaned forward and shot you a dirty look, which you immediately recognized as his “What the fuck, Y/N?” face.

A familiar voice boomed from behind, and you turned around to find Ryan had finally tapped out of bouncer duty to join the festivities. “Who’s ready for Truth or Dare!”

Shit. You hated truth or dare. Peter knew that. Ever since you had been dared to kiss Tyler Rosado in the 7th grade and he laughed right in your face before flat out rejecting you, the game had become a sore spot.

But you looked at Peter, who was cheering alongside the rest of the group, excited as ever to participate in the game that you swore you’d never play again. He doesn’t care, you thought to yourself, not like he used to.

You felt a vibration from your pocket and scrambled to pull your phone out of your jacket. Well, Peter’s jacket. The one he had let you wear on the way here because you were cold. It was a text from MJ.

“How’s everything going?”

“Not good”, you replied, adding multiple sad face emojis at the end of your message.

“What did that idiot do this time?,” she asked. It was like you could hear her “I’m so going to beat Peter up for this” voice through the screen.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” you sent, before locking your phone and sliding it back into the jacket pocket.

“Alright, alright, alright. So, who’s up first?” You heard Ryan ask, remembering the terrible event that was taking place right before you. “Hey! Gwen, how about you do us the honors?”

“Of course!” she chirped back. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I know you are,” Ryan laughed, causing the crowd of people to whoop and holler around you. “So, truth or dare.”

“Definitely dare,” she slurred, taking another sip from her beer.

“Who’s got a dare for pretty, little Gwen here? Anybody?” Ryan asked, looking around the backyard.

Flash raised his hand. Fuck. Why did you think that it would be a good decision in any way, shape, or form to bring him with you?

“Gwen, I dare you to make out with the hottest guy here!” he giggled, obviously thinking that she’d pick him. What a dumbass.

She smirked, before turning to Peter. “Gladly,” she said as she moved to press her lips against his. You struggled to watch as they made out right next to you, much to both you and Flash’s dismay. It felt like it had been going on for forever when they finally stopped sucking each other’s faces and the crowd’s cheers died down.

That was it. That was the last straw. You got up from where you were sitting and headed back towards the front door, having had enough of frat parties for the rest of your miserable life. Peter probably wouldn’t even notice that you were gone.

You felt hot tears fall down your cheeks as you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, calling MJ as fast as you could. “Could you come get me,” you managed to choke out. “This—this was a mistake. Please, just come get me.”

MJ asked for your address and let you know that she’d be by in a couple of minutes. You plopped onto the front steps, emotionally and physically exhausted from all that Peter had put you through tonight.

A few minutes later, MJ’s car pulled up in front of Sig Ep, and she ran out to hug you, gently rubbing your back to get you to stop crying. “Where is he?,” she asked angrily, glaring towards the frat house.

You pulled her back, sniffling at her, “Don’t. I just want to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with him later,” MJ said, before the two of you got into her car and drove back to the apartment that you shared. Upbeat pop music played on the stereo, which you promptly shut off, preferring to mope with your head on the windowsill, staring out at the cloudy night sky.

MJ unlocked the front door, and you were greeted by Ned and Betty sitting on the living room floor around a Monopoly board. Betty was obviously winning, and Ned was almost bankrupt.

“Y/N!” Betty squealed, getting up off the rug to hug you. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“It was Peter,” MJ muttered, shooting daggers at Ned.

“What!? I can’t control him,” Ned tried to reason. “Y/N, on behalf of my idiot roommate, I’m sorry for whatever he did this time.”

“It’s okay, guys. I just really want to go to bed, okay?” you told them, heading towards your bedroom.

You kicked off your sneakers and threw Peter’s stupid jacket, which smelled just like him, onto the chair in the corner, plunking yourself face first into the mattress. Ned, Betty, and MJ stood in your doorway, watching the entire thing.

“Yeah… I don’t think she’s okay,” Ned whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

Betty hit him on the head. “Ow!,” Ned replied, rubbing his temple from where she had flicked him.

“Will you all just shut up and leave me alone!?,” you screamed, startling your friends.

“Yeah, of course. Just tell us if you need anything, Y/N. We’ll be right outside,” MJ reassured you, before shutting your door behind her.

----------------

You woke up the next morning to the smell of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup wafting throughout the apartment. Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you wiped away the leftover makeup from last night and brushed your teeth, ready to forget about everything that had gone wrong yesterday.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Betty sang from the stove, placing yet another pancake onto the already towering pile before sliding the plate in front of you. “They’re for you. Blueberry, with a little bit of cinnamon, just like how you like ‘em!”

You managed to give her a weak smile, before digging into the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared for you. “Where’s MJ,” you asked, knowing that she would never still be asleep past 7 a.m.

“I’m not supposed to tell you…” Betty answered, obviously trying to deflect from wherever their roommate was. “Apple or orange juice?”

“Apple,” you replied. “No, seriously, Betty. Where is she?”

Betty placed the glass next to your plate of pancakes. A heavy silence hung all throughout the kitchen as you realized the only place that MJ could be right now. She was going to kill Peter.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, scrambling to pull your shoes on and running out the door. Betty mentally cursed herself out for not being able to keep a secret, chasing after you down the stairwell.

“Y/N! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop! Please, MJ is just looking out for you!,” she panted from several stories ahead. Betty had no idea when you had gotten so fast.

“Don’t care! He’s my best friend!” you yelled back, before rushing out onto the sidewalk and running across campus towards Peter and Ned’s dorm room. You hated how much you still cared about Peter after all this time. You hated how much you loved him.

As soon as you reached their door, you frantically knocked on it until Ned opened up. “Oh, Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here. Hey, wait—”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, squeezing your way past him and into their common room. There, MJ and Peter sat playing a game of chess. Until MJ transferred to your school, nobody had ever been able to beat Peter in chess. You scanned the board as they became aware of your presence, and felt a sense of pride seeing that MJ had his pieces tied up to ensure that she’d have a checkmate in five. He’d either have to resign or let her pick off his queen, two knights, and rook one by one.

“Oh,” you sighed with relief, seeing that Peter was still alive. Everyone in the room was staring at you, waiting to see what you had to say.

“Well. I’m going to head home. See you later, MJ. Bye!” You turned on your heels and headed towards the door, where Ned was standing with his jaw on the floor.

Peter scrambled to his feet as he caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around just as he had done yesterday. “Y/N. Let me explain,” he whispered softly, like there was nobody else in the room. Curse those damn puppy dog eyes. You were better than this. You needed to stick up for yourself.

“Goodbye, Peter,” you said, before breaking free of his grasp and walking out the door, doing your best not to cry in front of everybody.

He started to follow you before MJ pulled him back, uttering a simple “Don’t.”

Walking back to your apartment, you realized that you had been right all along. Peter had changed, and nothing was ever going to be the same between the two of you.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #mcu

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mercury-retrograde-concept · 3 years

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2014 contract crew tarot readings: Mamamoo

Well, I’ll be damned! GOT7′s negotiations seemingly going down to the wire made me think I wouldn’t have to revisit this series again for a little while. A lot of the 2014 crew have contracts that expire in the summer and fall. I forgot that these things can sometimes be decided months before. And then tonight RBW dropped the news that Solar and Moonbyul have signed contract extensions, while Wheein and Hwasa are still in discussion. Therefore, it seems like worthwhile to check in with the energies surrounding this group right now.

Disclaimer: This tarot reading is for entertainment purposes only. All speculation comes from my interpretation only.

Solar:

Current energy: Nine of Swords Currently focusing on: Seven of Cups (Reversed) Subconscious influences: Six of Wands

Although Solar signed an extension of her contract, she seems to be going through a rough patch right now. There’s likely a lot of late night agonizing and worrying about whether she’s on the right path. The kpop idol life definitely favors the young and she’s also turning thirty this year. Birthdays are often a time of reflection, and doubly so when you switch over to a new decade. Right now she’s stressing that opportunities may be closing to her due to her age (please note: I’m not calling her ancient here!)

Solar’s not about to give up, though. She’s quite proud of how far she’s come in the industry and would like to maintain that. Solar’s also very eager to have another solo that does better than her previous one. It’s important for her to establish herself even more as an artist so that she can keep up her career in the industry. She wants to keep singing and being successful for it even if she knows she won’t always be an idol. While she’s determined, she’s definitely worrying about it all right now. Staying in RBW is likely about availing herself of the networks she established there as well as maintaining access to the resources available in an established company.

Moonbyul:

Current energy: The World (Reversed) Clarifier card: Eight of Wands Currently focusing on: Strength Subconscious influences: Queen of Cups (Reversed)

Moonbyul is feeling a bit scattered right now. Her attention and energy is required in a million different places at once, and it also appears as if there’s some major project on the horizon for her. In fact, it’s possibly something she’s been working on for a while but it’s never quite come to fruition. It looks as though RBW’s approach to it has been a bit haphazard, and Moonbyul also lacks the stamina to really advocate for herself. Part of her didn’t want to leave RBW while leaving this project unfinished. In addition, she’s actually pretty aware of her negotiating power in the company. She has a lot of fans abroad who were willing to buy tons of copies of her EP. Bringing this kind of thing up is exhausting, though, and I think it wore her out. Right now she’s trying to bounce back and focus on her projects, but she’s given a lot of herself away, lately, by both advocating for herself as well as taking on the emotional baggage of others.

Wheein:

Current energy: King of Pentacles Currently focusing on: Eight of Cups Clarifier card: Knight of Cups Subconscious influences: Six of Cups

Right now, Wheein is very, very focused on financial stability above all else. Fame can come and go, financial planning can literally pay off. Therefore she’s been spending a lot of time going over her budget and thinking about how to invest. She wants to get something out of her success, and she wants to do so in a way that will serve her well for a long time. If she stays with RBW it will be because she’s decided it will be the best financial decision in the long run. It’s a hard decision, though. She’s been compelled to walk away from the company because she’s currently very disappointed. I don’t think this is due to mistreatment by the company (although that’s always a possibility with a kpop company.) I think this is more of an issue of misaligned values. Fame hasn’t been as fun as she thought it would be, and the scrutiny is getting to her. She also might not be feeling their music, lately, and wonders if another company will let her perform music that’s more to her taste. All that being said, she’s also been hit by a lot of memories, recently, of all the good times with her group mates. This might convince her to stay, especially if she also uses her power to negotiate for the financial and creative things she wants within RBW.

Hwasa:

Current energy: Ten of Cups Currently focusing on: Nine of Pentacles (Reversed) Subconscious influences: King of Swords

As one of the it girls of kpop, Hwasa’s negotiating power in RBW is probably incredibly strong. And - like Moonbyul - she knows it, and has been acting on it. She’s going over her contract extension with a fine-toothed comb, and has probably obtained some sort of great legal counsel (or at the very least has good unofficial advisors in her corner.) Her sense of self-worth is high, and she knows that her hustling is one of the things that has made RBW what it is. In turn, she wants all her sleepless nights and hard work to manifest something good for her. Whether this means a higher salary or even more creative control ... it’s hard to say. But right now she’s definitely out to shake RBW down for all their worth, and she’s doing so calmly, with a smile on her face. If she leaves, it will be because RBW will refuse to budge on something important to her. She’s got a lot of industry connections to fall back on if she wants to go elsewhere, although I’m sensing from this spread she’d rather not. Like Wheein, I think I’ve pulled a card here that indicates her bond with the group is really strong. That doesn’t mean she’ll stay forever, but based on what I’m seeing in these cards, I think this will be one of those groups that remain tight even after people leave.

#mamamoo #ahn hyejin #jung wheein #moon byulyi #kim yongsun #kpop tarot #tarot #three card #2014 contract crew #normally I put a gif for each individual #but i loved some of these moonsun and hweesa gifs too much to resist #also two of them have resigned and two of them are still up in the air #so it just seemed to work

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chrisodonline · 4 years

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In which I unwrap a little from “Mother” and also tie in past seasons’ of G Callen character development AND character insight shown and implied...

This episode was all about parallels -- and they were well done. Parallels in TV episodes are nothing new, and you see them as handy ways to tie storylines and characters together, either from within the show itself or with references and homages to past literature and media. They are a great tool for new writers, and for good reason. People expect themes to episodic and serial presentations, and they help keep formulae from being just straight formulae. ECO and Babar definitely leaned into them, but with a lot of thought.

I do think the parallels between Akhos and G were supposed to make us think as well as make G think. Akhos definitely thought they were two sides to the same coin. Hetty had concerns they were, in a way, as well. It was setup to put Hetty in continued crisis thought and self-reflection that has started recently -- but you saw seeds in past seasons. It’s still very in character. The beauty of the ep was that it didn’t actually lean all the way into the parallel. It was more explicit in noting the parallel of Akhos and G, but mainly because the dialogue was coming through to display the aforementioned mentalities of our Baddie of the Week and Mother Hetty. (Mother was also the very specific nickname/codename given to the CIA during the Cold War, and I just kept thinking about that. I’m sure that was no coincidence.) Sam also had a little dialogue that floated this -- in this ep and in recent ones.

Anyway, what the episode demonstrated was a reinforcement that G and Akhos? Actually two very different people. And it’s not that they ended up on two different sides of a forked path after Hetty’s modus operandi of intervening with lost souls. It wasn’t even anything about what Hetty planted. G was never going to be Akhos, Hetty or no Hetty.

Before I get into the ending parts with G and his fantastic dialogue, we’ll look at the speakers of lines that contributed to the “Akhos = what G could have ended up as.” Akhos himself belabors the point. Akhos is extremely misguided, and approaches things from an embittered POV. He has also lied to someone who is loyal enough to him to go to the HQ of a government agency. There’s an entitlement aspect to him, and also someone who refuses to accept any of his actions or mistakes as completely of his own doing. It was all “nurture” to him. He wasn’t a full-grown adult or anything at some point capable of making his own decisions. If anything, saying he was ruined and fallen shows that he has a pretty darn clear understanding of morality. You can’t fault a person for not being mentally healthy or having emotional issues. But he knows right from wrong. He did wrong. He’s not the voice of reason in all this. He has a skewed view of things, and we’re not supposed to walk away thinking, “Man, Akhos was a deep guy. He’s super smart. He had it all figured out.” He tried to kill Hetty, then G, and tried to blow up Deeks and Kensi. He’s not...a good guy. He’s not on the side of right nor is he right about things. He ends up killed by Hetty. If this were a novel, well, a traditional novel -- let’s say -- Akhos’ ending up killed in a very bloody fashion and coming out the loser -- big time -- with his men taken out and plots being foiled all over the place pretty much enforces his worldview and ways of life are not ones the author subscribes to nor are they trying to get the audience/reader to subscribe to them.

Hetty is another person who muses this, and she does it not from her usual confident stance. She isn’t Hetty the Purveyor of Wisdom. She is Hetty the Mother, specifically Hetty the Mother, who is going through common paternal guilt mode. She’s questioning her decisions, how it’s affected her children, etc. She isn’t Hetty the Orator. She is Hetty the Doubter. Sage!Hetty is a voice we’re supposed to listen to. Confused, guilt-ridden, confidence-bruised is not the Hetty we’re supposed to listen to. It’s her at her most human, not her most all-knowing.

Sam? Sam is your favorite aunt. He meddles at times, but he always cares. He might get a little personal, but you know you can go to him with whatever horrible thing you think you did, and he’d give you a look before helping you out and guiding you back and giving you the best hug you’ve ever gotten. He’s also a worrier. Sam’s just worried about his friend, and this is probably his gateway into deeper discussions because he knows G isn’t up for the really, really deep ones.

So, we’ve established that these aren’t necessarily the voices we need to put full faith in -- for the ep that is. (Hetty and Sam know what’s what very often.)

The episode is smart enough to let G speak for himself. He doesn’t do it often, and that’s been a big point in some of his plots. He gets deep here, and he drops his guard. It’s Hetty, and he’s often done it with her. However, he also knows she needs to hear what he has to say. It’s all true, so he’s not lying out of kindness. He’s being honest. He doesn’t do this because Hetty showed him a magic, fun path. He may have ended up on this super specific path because of Hetty, but he was always going to help people. He doesn’t do this because he feels like he has no choice. He does it because he sees the good it does. It allows people to live their lives. That’s all he wants. He wants people to live outside of violence. He has every reason to doubt the good in people. He’s seen the worst in this job, and he saw it before the job. He had abandonment issues not knowing who he was and if he was ever wanted. He had to live with that on top of not only encountering horrible, cruel people, but being left in their charge. Time and time again. His childhood was full of horrible things and horrible people. But he also saw good, innocent people -- his fellow foster kids.

Sam, Kensi, and Deeks usually mention at least one personal relationship when talking about doing the job, though they also love helping others and explicitly note. In the 11th season, with G’s acknowledging he is no longer a lone wolf, that he does have people close to him, and seeming to be okay with, he still talks with distance about the people he saves. He’s tried the “normal” things beyond the found family: girlfriends, a niece and nephews, steady dwelling places, staying in a job for a while, etc. He still sees himself as separate from the “normal life.” From the world he saves. The world is full of other people living their lives, not him. He’s not bitter about that. In fact, he kind of misses the aspects to being fully solo. (See? Already very different Akhos. Not bitter. Not feeling entitled to something better or throwing blame around.)

G Callen has had emotional growth in being able to trust more people and let them in. He’s allowed himself to make connections. Morally, though? He’s still the same person. Because he was never evil. And he never would be. Don’t get me wrong. He’s no saint, and he’d be the first to tell you that. He lives in the gray, though. Always has, and always will. He might have ended up in a different system if he stayed in juvie or kept going back. Even if he never went and ended up in organized crime or on the “wrong” side of the law because that was sort of his only options, or seemed like it, he’d be a total Arkady. (Maybe more...understated, shall we say?) He has the natural skill set and aptitude for organized crime, but you know he’d be helping people one way or another. Probably even be a CI. He’s clever, and always has been. But he’s never been evil. He might go dark at times, but all these characters have.

Again, Akhos feels like so many things forged him. He takes no responsibility for the forging he did of himself. Trauma and horrible experiences do not forge us. That’s a misconception. It permanently affects you, in ways you sometimes don’t understand. It can affect your physical health. It can dig into your DNA. It’s not what makes you you, though. Survival is not a creator of bravery, it is a product of it. (I do want to note here, that the lack of survival does not mean there is an absence of bravery. There is no victim-blaming here.)

G Callen was impacted by cruelty and tragedy. He got scars from them in various ways. He may have not wanted to get close to people or let them get close to him as a result. However, that doesn’t mean he didn’t care about them. G Callen didn’t go into this life because Hetty told him to or offered it to him, and made it sound like a trip to Disney World every day or like constant 80s training montages. The G Callen who went from agency to agency because, even though he hated the structure, he wanted to do the job. (He also says he left the CIA because the thought they were too shady.) He could have been a private investigator. Or just left and did something less kickass-y. Something without any rules or bosses. But he stayed. He didn’t stay because of Hetty. He’s super loyal to Hetty, but he’s also super stubborn.

G Callen sat there tonight and told Hetty that she didn’t fail him, that she didn’t fail any of them, that he does this because he wants people to be able to live their lives and that the world is worth saving. That’s why G Callen has always done this. That’s why when he sees kids in trouble, he doesn’t do what Akhos does and go “Oh, woe is me! You think you have it bad! Look at what life and the people in it have done to me! Aren’t you lucky to still have a parent who might be upset you die in a bomb blast!” G Callen has the opposite of the crab mentality. He wants to make sure everyone else makes it out of the bucket, usually feeling like he has to stay in it himself -- no matter how often Sam tells him he can come out of the bucket.

G Callen will always live in the gray, but never the dark. He knows he’s not meant for a life in the “light.” He’s okay with that. He doesn’t double-down and go and live in the dark, taking down everyone with him. He wants to save people from the dark, no matter what it means for him.

G Callen is still very often that hurt, little lonely boy who just wanted a family and to be loved and know who he was. To be safe. He was well into adulthood before he knew any of that, really. He even says as much to Nadir back in “The Seventh Child.” You find people who make you feel safe. He has talked about the team being family, and he said it tonight. He’s gotten all of that. That stuff is newer; however, he has always wanted other people to be safe, too. His hands are far from clean, and he can be extremely lethal and detached due to his training -- as seen tonight, as well. But he’ll always help people. It’s who he is. It’s why he does what he does. In the “Matroyshka” episode (another nice maternal name, there), he reacts very strongly to his father calling him a good man. He doesn’t feel like he is, but he wants to be.

G Callen lived through horror after horror, and he was still never going to approach Akhos-level evil. That’s not how it works. I realize the episode itself seemed to be pushing that more than it didn’t, but it was just having a discourse and exploring things through dialogue and plot -- as good TV does. G Callen would’ve said in his moment of deep honesty with Hetty if she did anything that might have led him to be Akhos. I know there’s an argument to be made about whether or not Callen is self-aware, but what this ep and the ones before it have shown us is that he so very much is self-aware. He’s more self-aware than he gets credit for because people mistake behavior changes as a guaranteed result of self-awareness. (Behavior changes are soooo ingrained. They are nearly impossible to change permanently. It is very serious work and doesn’t signal a lack of attempts to make those changes.)

Anyway, that went even longer than I intended. I could go on and on. Clearly. I just wanted to put it out there that G Callen was never at real risk for becoming an Akhos, and the episode didn’t end with that notion, either. At least not to me.

#g callen #z rambles on #ncis la #i'm going to pay for this tomorrow #and by this #i mean the lack of sleep #and lack of doing any work to make tomorrow's load lighter

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disloopy · 5 years

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the heart is deceiving pt.3

bloo

genre: angst, smut

word count: 1.4k

a/n. sorry for my long uninformed hiatus there was just so much going on. i was listening to bloo’s ep the other day and last night he was in my dream and i think that’s a sign hehe here’s pt 3

LIES. dad believed all of mine. i did feel guilty at first but now they rolled off my tongue naturally. i guess infatuation can make you do terrible things. i felt it was all worth it for daniel. seeing him tonight made me realize that.

he was seated at the far end of the diner, flirting with one of the waitresses. i could see him as the type of guy, when not tied down by a relationship, letting all these women come onto him. but when he was, it was pretty clear where his intentions lie.

daniel's ensemble boasted his luxurious lifestyle and definitely didn't harmonize with the atmosphere of the rundown diner. a green versace polo, tucked into black jeans and held together by a salvatore belt, ears filled with silver hoops and that gold chain that adorned his neck tattoo so finely.

i breathed out, straightening out my white shirt so that i might not look to drab beside him. maybe we needed to be balance out; a broke bitch with a lavish man - that didn't sound too bad.

when daniel spotted me, he waved his hand and said something to the lady which made her look over at me. her expression made it clear that she didn't think we were much of a visually pleasing combination.

"i ordered some stuff you might like," said daniel as i slid into the seat in front of him slowly. i hadn't been here in years and nothing seemed to have changed. "by the way, i got you something." he opened up a box to reveal a sleek golden cartier bangle.

"oh my god," i breathed out in shock as he handed it over to me. the bracelet didn't look right in my hand and the more i stared at it, the more it all felt surreal. "for real?"

daniel scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "you think i would get something fake for my own girl? i'm not even that low." i laughed, my eyes glued to the pretty bracelet as i slipped it onto my wrist, loving the feel.

"this is probably the most expensive thing i will ever own. thank you so much."

"ah, you know i don't like to be thanked in that manner," daniel said with a smug smile.

"then how?"

daniel pointed to his puckered lips and by that time, i showed no hesitance in leaning over to plant a longing kiss on him, being pulled towards that abyss once more as his fingers reached for my jaw, deepening the moment and sending that wildfire roaring through my veins.

i pulled away with a breath. "come on... we haven't even gotten through dinner."

"really? i was enjoying my dinner right now, actually," daniel replied, placing his elbows on the freshly wiped down table. "you're so irresistible, y/n."

"you don't have to tell me that." it showed in everything he did.

when we got our food, i was surprised about how well daniel knew my tastes. throughout the night, we found ourselves talking about random, useless things - probably the first conversation that didn't end up with our hands on each other.

after eating, we drove around in daniel's car together. i knew i had to go home soon but i was unwilling to let the night end so early. daniel stopped in front of the beach whose view at night was stunning. i happened to catch sight of the moon's reflection glimmering on the surface of the dark water. it reminded me of daniel's eyes.

we climbed onto the roof of the car and laid there, staring up at the starry sky. it was hot but the night's breeze made up for the weather. "do you do this a lot?" i asked daniel, rubbing my eyes as the wind made them tear up a bit.

"no, not at all," daniel replied with a smile. "this is my first time." somehow i expected the answer. he leaned over me, kissing my lips. i cupped his cheeks, the flavor of our dinner lingering on his tongue, before pushing him away.

"come on... there's people around," i said, quietly.

"so what?"

"they might... idunno..."

daniel sat up, crossing his legs. "you care so much about what people think... let them say this or that. it's not going to change my opinion on you." i blinked, shifting my attention to the darkening sky and so did daniel.

“i love you.”

there was this stretch of silence that seemed like a million bombs dropping at once. daniel looked over at me. “hm?”

i knew he heard but he pretended not to. “i said i... i love the way you think. i love your mind.” he smiled and ruffled my hair.

i hadn’t seen daniel in a while. maybe my words overwhelmed him and he needed space. i gave him his space. summer school stress was taking a toll, on top of that my mind couldn’t stop questioning my relationship with daniel.

tonight he's knocking on the glass of my window and i jump out of my seat to answer it, ecstatic after not having seen him for the past few days. "babyyy, i missed you tonight," daniel slurs, kissing me roughly with the taste of alcohol between our lips. "a party isn't a party without you."

"i wish i could have come," i told him, running my fingers through his unkempt hair. "i was stuck here studying."

"let me take you out... i haven't seen you in days." he returns with his wet kisses on my lips, down my jaw, in the crook of my neck as i lean my head outside the window just to feel them.

"i know babe," i sighed, closing my eyes as my stomach tightened at the feeling of his warm lips and the cold breeze. "my dad has a break off work so he's home more often... i don't want to raise suspicion."

"i could literally have you right now," daniel said, throwing his cigarette butt off the rooftop of the garage and reaching for another one. "not gonna lie, i've always wanted to fuck you in your bedroom."

"sweetheart, can i come in?" dad called from outside my door. mine and daniel's eyes both widened at the same time and i quickly ushered for him to get down out of view.

"uh yes come in."

i felt my heart beating fast as my dad walked into the room, furrowing his eyebrows for a second. "why is your window open?" i quickly made up a lie on spot.

"oh... i .... uh.... i thought i saw someone."

"what? that's quite creepy." he made to walk over to the window but i quickly stood in front of it, blocking his view.

"no but don't worry, it was just a... um... a car."

dad narrowed his eyes in suspicion but moved back anyway. "i just came to tell you that i'm heading to the store since we're out of milk. do you want anything?"

"i'll have a galaxy bar. drive safe, bye dad." i kissed his cheek and pushed him out the door, waiting to hear the jingle of his car keys so i could return to the window. daniel peered his head in with a grin and i smiled sheepishly.

"tsk, lying to your dad." he said, putting his cigarette in my mouth. i wasn't a smoker but refusing daniel was so difficult for me. i took a puff and returned it to him. "you're a bad, bad girl." i giggled, taking the cigarette again only to kiss his lips. "so what i look like a car to you?"

"hm? yeah cause i wanna ride you," i told him, surprising myself. daniel's lips grew into a smirk as he threw yet another cigarette butt off the roof.

"your dad's gone, you can ride me right now." he heaved himself up and climbed over the windowsill, into my room. i stood back, a little nervous.

"he won't be gone long... the store is really close," i informed daniel. "i don't think we'll have-" i was cut off with his lips crashing against mine, our bodies pressed together as daniel began to take off his jacket.

"we'll have enough time. fuck, it's hot in here." he pulled it off and then pushed me onto my bed, unbuckling his belt in record time. "take off your clothes, i'm your daddy tonight."

ppl clown fanfic writers so much sksksk i got kinda embarrassed writing too. but yk there’s so many good fics out there and that takes pure talent so make fun of them all u want but its basically an art

also the reason why i sometimes put smut in the tags even when its not smut is to attract more readers duhh thats the way of life ok

#mkit rain #mkit rain scenario #mkit rain imagines #bloo #bloo scenarios #mkit rain bloo #nafla #nafla scenarios #loopy #loopy scenarios #khh #khh scenarios #khiphop imagines #khiphop

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sinceileftyoublog · 5 years

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Live Picks: 5/8

Julia Jacklin

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Indie dad tries out syntheszier?

Stephen Malkmus, Art Institute of Chicago

In contrast to when we saw him at Metro with the Jicks earlier this year, tonight in the Art Institute, Stephen Malkmus will be performing a rare solo electronic set, presumably of songs from his new solo electronic album Groove Denied. Don’t worry, Pavement freaks--he might play a few beloved band classics.

Tim Midyett (of Silkworm and Mint Mile) opens.

Julia Jacklin, Schubas

On “Turn Me Down”, the penultimate track from Julia Jacklin’s incredible sophomore album Crushing, her significant other tells her that he sees a bright future, but one without her in it. “Please just turn me down,” she repeats, the word “turn” delivered with stunning, raw melisma. The line repeats as the guitars increase in volume, Jacklin eventually yelling, the song crashing to a distant tremolo. “Maybe I’ll see you in a supermarket sometime,” Jacklin whimpers. This exchange is taking place on a roadtrip from Sydney to Melbourne, one that Jacklin and her partner are cautiously taking two days to complete because of past car crashes. What you come to realize is that’s a metaphor for how Jacklin is going to deal with all future relationships: slowly, with tension and doubt.

This deliberation oozes all over Crushing, which isn’t a breakup album so much as it’s about insecurity and repression caused by dishonesty, gender double standards, the temporary nature of life, and the volatility of love. Throughout, Jacklin describes scenarios we’ve all been through. On “Pressure To Party”, she realizes that if she went out after a break up, she’d just get drunk and want her ex. “I don’t care if you lie...you’re still a good guy,” she reflects on “Good Guy”, lying in bed with her ex, illustrating the levels to which we delude ourselves in order to simply feel loved. On the gorgeous, slow, blues-tinged dirge “Don’t Know How To Keep Loving You,” she simply declares, “I want your mother to stay friends with mine,” attempting to retain a level of normalcy after a life-changing event.

But what’s powerful about Crushing isn’t Jacklin’s admittance of her emotions and thoughts but how she reclaims them. Ownership over one’s body--and one’s self--is a running theme throughout the record, starting immediately with opening track “Body”, a true story about her boyfriend getting the two of them kicked off a plane because he smoked in the bathroom. “I’m not a good woman when you’re around,” Jacklin realizes, planning action, “heading to the city to get my body back.” Slowly building around the simple statement, “It’s just my life / It’s just my body,” the song refuses to downplay the importance of Jacklin’s increasing sense of security. On “Head Alone”, she’s a step further: “I don’t want to be touched all the time / I raised by body up to be mine,” she sings confidently, pausing, and letting out a smirking, “hah,” fully knowing how ridiculous it is that she still has to say this in 2019. By this time on the record, she’s already spitting out mantras with ease: “Yeah, I’ll say it ‘til he understands / You can love somebody without using your hands.”

Jacklin’s empathetic, yet snappy confidence pervades Crushing. On “Convention”, named after the RNC where Trump was confirmed as the nominee, she quips to a mansplainer, “Oh, please say something, I’m dying for your advice / I can tell you won’t sleep well if you don’t teach me how to do it right,” flipping the sexist on his head to suggest that she’s letting him feel better about himself. On “You Were Right”, she tells of how she started experiencing her ex’s favorite things right after breaking up--but because she wants to. He was right that she would like his favorite bands and restaurants, but he was wrong about her not being devoted to him.

The two most devastating songs on Crushing are where Jacklin shows the most self-awareness. Her first recorded solo piano song, “When The Family Flies In”, details learning her late friend is in critical condition (the same friend to whom she dedicated her debut album Don’t Let The Kids Win). “You know it’s bad when the family flies in,” she states matter-of-fact. It’s not dark humor, though. Like elsewhere on the album, Jacklin accepts the end of a body, or the end of a relationship between bodies. On closer “Comfort”, she admirably sings, “Don’t know how he’s doing / But that’s what you get / You can’t be the one to hold him when you were the one who left.” It’s more than just a clever line--it’s the type of advice you wish you had at various stages of your life to help guide you through what at the time seems like the worst pain you’ve ever had, wise words from one of today’s best songwriters.

8.6/10

Crushing by Julia Jacklin

Black Belt Eagle Scout, the indie rock project of singer-songwriter Katherine Paul, opens.

Cursive & mewithoutyou, Bottom Lounge

We previewed Cursive’s show at Thalia Hall late last year:

“Vitriola is the first Cursive album since The Ugly Organ to feature a cellist (Megan Siebe). This isn’t that notable, but I’ll take any connection to what’s undoubtedly their best record. The more notable connection recalls a similar era–founding drummer Clint Schnase returns for the first time since Happy Hollow. So while the album’s dramatic, baroque instrumentation actually blends quite nicely with the band’s usual mixture of rough power chords, slinky post-rock guitar lines, meaty drumming, and shout-along choruses, it’s the themes that are in a little too over their head. No, Vitriola is not a concept record, but whereas previous Cursive albums were rooted in a topic or two, Vitriola is Tim Kasher’s midlife crisis record, considering anything and everything including the concept of free will on the opening track and not backing down for the rest of the record. 'You know it’s gonna hurt / There’s nothing left to lose,' Kasher sings over and over. Looking at the plight of so many in today’s political climate, you find his words a bit insincere. And 'Ouroboros' is chock full of lines that hit you over the head with their plodding delivery. ('The writer will obsess over success / Success is like the carrot on a stick / Once the writer finds it’s just a carrot / The writer takes a shit all over it.')

Instead, the best songs on Vitriola come when Kasher and company ask questions and show some self-awareness. 'Who will show remorse?' he wonders on the soft, piano-laden, melancholy ‘Remorse'. It’s the idea that in order to earn the right to be angry and nihilistic about the world, you not only have to validate what others are going through–you have to understand and own up to your part in it. Eventually, on 'Everending', he admits what you already know he’s going to come to: “The point of all of this eludes us.' You just wish he had gotten to the realization a little bit quicker.”

Aaaand same with mewithoutyou’s show at Lincoln Hall:

“The best part of Philadelphia’s mewithoutyou is that they’re impossible to describe, fitting in a unique place somewhere among indie rock, post rock, punk, and post hardcore. Their recent releases, an album and an EP both untitled, were recorded in the wake of frontman Aaron Weiss’s newfound family life and move to Idaho and additional musicians. The album is expansive, as evidenced by heartland emo track 'Winter Solstice' and frigid 'Wendy & Betsy', and urgent, as on chugging opener '9:27 a.m., 7/29'. Tonight, the band will play heavily from their new records as well as classics like Catch Us For The Foxes, Brother, Sister, and Ten Stories.”

Lawrence, KS rock band The Appleseed Cast open.

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allyinthekeyofx · 7 years

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Affirmation 5/5

Part five ‘All things’ Missing scene Scully POV (Epilogue) Post ep Mulder POV

Part one ‘Orison’ here

Part two ‘Per manum’ here

Part three ‘Sein und zeit’ here

Part four ‘En Ami’ here

ALL THINGS

I wake up suddenly, instantly guilty that I managed to literally pass out right in the middle of listening to Mulder waxing lyrical on the potentiality of fate, of the different paths we are destined to take throughout our lives; the paths in fact that we ourselves have taken to bring us right here to this point in time in our strange partnership.

Sometimes I have trouble categorising exactly what it is we share, what exactly is the product of our seven year history together that has seen us fight and fall and push ourselves far away from each other so many times; only to somehow always manage to re-connect once more?

More than once I have tried to rationalise this thing we have, this us that is separate from our working lives but at the same time, the threads of our professional history are still wound tightly around us, refusing to fully separate, to allow us to be the people we both yearn to be. I’m not stupid, I know that a normal life can never be for us, that what others take for granted – a home, a family, simple pleasures that are nothing and everything at the same time – are distressingly unobtainable.

Because even if Mulder and I had chosen to keep hold of the feelings for each other that we had denied for so long and instead turned to others to help fill in the blanks in our lives that our work on the X-Files had brought upon us, I still believe that those simple life expectations could never be for us. Too much has happened and too much has been lost and I came to realise a very long time ago that I could never risk bringing in anyone from outside this frightening world we inhabit; that enough innocents have been lost to our quest already. The blood on my hands is ever present and I know with a certainty that paralyses me at times, that I will never be able to completely cleanse myself of the guilt I carry around with me for the part I played in the destruction of the relationships and the people I loved.

But the truth is, despite the carefully controlled image I project to the world - and to a casual observer I probably seem to be pretty happy with my life choices - in reality I’m no different to anyone else in that all I want from life is heart wrenchingly simple; to love, to know love and to be loved. It seems like such a small thing to ask for in amongst all the terrible questions posed everyday by the universe as a whole.

Something as simple as being permitted to wake up every day knowing there is someone beside me who feels blessed that I am the first face he sees when he opens his eyes is all I really want.

And deep down I know that what I yearn for is actually right there for the taking, has been for months, years even. Long years when we refused to acknowledge that, despite all the efforts to the contrary, what we actually couldn’t bring ourselves to admit to each other was that which we were horribly afraid would also tear us apart. Because standing side by side we are invincible, or at least it seems that way, watching each other’s backs, protecting against those faceless adversaries who have tried relentlessly to destroy us and it doesn’t escape me that if we turn our eyes onto each other, blinded to everything but what is occurring in our own little universe, then how the hell do we continue to keep each other safe?

But if I’ve learned one thing over these last couple of days when Mulder was gone chasing his crop circles, it’s that we can never go back; that once we have chosen our paths, made our choices, we are destined somehow to follow them wherever they may take us; and tonight those paths brought me right here, to his apartment, to his well worn sofa where I fell asleep and where a man resides who loves me enough to have made this journey right along with me, by my side always.

The realisation is enough to bring me to my feet, heart hammering as I ask myself, not for the first time, what exactly it is we are waiting for? Because I can no longer justify either to myself or him a single good reason for not grasping this chance of happiness for us with both hands; and that it falls to me to take this final step, because I know deep inside of me that Mulder may never have the courage, so intent is he on trying to protect me from the worst in him. But I’ve seen him at his worst, and I can barely comprehend how he doesn’t realise that his worst is still worth fighting for.

So before I can change my mind, I pad softly to the door that leads to his bedroom, pausing on the threshold for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness within, unsurprised to see that Mulder is still awake I can almost feel his concern as he pushes himself up to rest on one elbow.

“Scully? What’s wrong?”

And I smile across at him, shaking my head

“I’m fine; I was just hoping there might be room in there for me.”

He doesn’t need asking twice and he merely straightens up and moves to one side, cocking his head like a devoted spaniel as he smiles lazily right back at me, because this is nothing new. We have shared a bed several times during the last few turbulent months, taking strength from the nearness of each other, bringing and giving comfort; but that is all it has been and the smile freezes on his face as he realises that my intention tonight is not simply to seek comfort from him.

That finally, willingly, I am offering something more.

It takes me just moments to shed my clothes, standing naked before him as I feel him gazing at me, drinking me in with eyes that are suddenly dark and smouldering and alive with desire.

He’s seen me naked before of course, but never like this. Never have I allowed myself to fully give myself to him, to literally lay myself bare before him; and to my surprise, it feels more natural, more comfortable than I dreamed it ever could be as I allow him to draw me towards him as the strength of his desire radiates from him in waves.

He is naked beneath the sheet, soft and warm as he embraces me, the essence of him enveloping me as completely as every blanket he has ever loving draped over me as I slept, drawing me toward him so we are both on our sides, my head resting against the downy hair on his chest as he presses his lips to the crown of my head, an affirmation that this is right and this is just as it should be.

“Christ, you are so beautiful Scully.”

His hand travels almost reverently along my side, pausing at each rib, counting them with his tapered fingers, affirming that it really is me, that we are really about to take this last desperate commitment to each other that has been in the making for so long a time. A lifetime it seems sometimes to me, a lifetime of knowing him while not really knowing him at all.

I feel his thumb, suddenly stroking the soft skin beneath my breast before trailing it delicately upwards, circling my nipple lazily, taking his time because there is no rush; we both know that so many different decisions had to be made by both of us, so many choices and pathways to bring us right here, right now. And even as I arch my body toward him, granting explicit permission for him to carry on, he pauses slightly, lifting himself up onto one elbow as he locks his eyes with mine, those eyes that drown me each time I look in them and which are now softly reflecting back the golden light from the streetlamps outside; and I know I have never loved him as much as I love him right at this moment, because even now, he is questioning, ensuring that we are doing the right thing, that he is doing the right thing.

“Are you sure?”

I answer his whispered entreaty, not with words because frankly I’m not sure I can string a coherent sentence together right now without breaking down, but by shuffling my body even closer to him, trailing the arch of my foot along the length of his muscular leg before allowing the softness of my thigh to rest gently against the solid strength of his erection, feeling the heat that radiates from him. And I want nothing more than to put my hands on him right now; I want to feel the satin softness of him that belies the throbbing solidity below, but instead I force myself to keep them draped loosely over his shoulders, tracing circles over his muscular back, revelling in the way he twitches and flinches beneath me as my fingers dance and play against the nerve endings that I have awoken and which are now all clamouring at once to be heard.

And I gasp as I feel his head dip, the warmth of his breath against the sensitive skin of my aureole as he hovers for just a heartbeat, a heartbeat that seems to still inside my chest for an eternity of fevered anticipation born of half forgotten memories of the times I lay alone, surrounded by darkness, imagining the feel of him against my skin, the touch of his lips, where before there had been only the desperate longing; for a time when we could become to each other everything we had sought to deny for so long; until finally he closes his mouth over the tip of my nipple, teasing, swirling, chafing it with his tongue, kneading the soft flesh beneath with a gentle touch that serves to increase the mounting sense of urgency in both of us.

But he refuses to rush, I think maybe he is trying to make amends for that terrible evening right here in his apartment when I returned from my impotent flight with a man who had tried so hard to destroy everything we held dear; running headlong back to Mulder who had reacted in the only way he could at the time to ensure he didn’t fall completely. And even though he had stopped himself, there is no doubt in my mind that at the time it was all about ownership for him; and it paralyzes me to acknowledge that, had he not stepped away from me, he himself would have destroyed us both.

But he had stopped; had somehow found his way out of his own desperate fear, even though I know he still feels that night every time he looks at me, I see his eyes flick down to my wrists on occasion as though he expects to see the bruises he caused still stark and ugly against my skin. And even though I’ve tried to tell him that I understand, that I could absolve him his actions, he has never found absolution in any form easy to take.

Because guilt is his own version of a security blanket I think and equally as hard for him to let go of.

But right now, the feel of him kissing his way along the skin of my stomach, tracking downwards, snaking out his tongue to leave a damp trail in his wake, drives any thoughts of guilt right out of my head, as my muscles tense beneath his soft lips, lips that hold the key to most of my hard fought fantasies about him.

Fox Mulder, my best friend, my protector, my rescuer, my enabler; and I release a soft hum from the back of my throat as I realise that I will shortly, finally, exquisitely, be able to add lover to my list.

I know exactly where he is heading, feel the pulse begin to beat incessantly between my legs as the anticipation becomes almost more than I can bear. But as much as I want to feel his mouth on me, I want this first time to be about us.

Not me, not him, but us.

I need to look at his face, to share the wonder of it all with him. Because I have never felt anything like this, it’s emotion and yearning and pain and joy and sadness all packaged up in this one moment in time and I fear if I can’t look at him, to ground myself, I will simply shatter into a thousand brittle pieces beneath him.

My hands are in his hair, entwining my fingers into the dark strands, exerting just enough upward pressure to make him cease his movement as he raises his head, brows slightly furrowed in confusion that I am preventing him from gifting me that most treasured of releases, preventing him from using that incredible mouth of his that I have absolutely no doubt could take me to heights that hitherto have remained as mysterious as any phenomena that exists in our own personal universe. But I don’t want it. I want him.

All of him.

Nothing else will come close to giving me what I need this first time. And I smile then, to give him reassurance that everything is okay, that we are okay and that this whole situation is okay, before cupping his face in my hands and drawing him towards me, kissing his forehead, tasting the salt of his sweat on my lips before I allow my mouth to slide against his, teasing, nipping, tasting the exquisite familiarity of him, pausing for a moment to breath against him, feeling his heartbeat, merging with my own.

“You Mulder…I want you. Please, just you.”

And a slow, lingering realisation spreads across his face, his head tilting, eyes intense and hungry as the meaning of my words settle against him, knowing somehow that this is what he wants too, that everything else will come later.

I slide my leg from where it still rests against his, adjusting my position on the bed, feeling as he follows suit, turning slightly to fit himself right at my core, even now teasing me with the feel of him as he lightly brushes the head of his swollen cock against my clitoris, sending a jolt of electricity through me that literally sends me arching off the bed and I wonder, not for the first time at the power this man holds over me, over my mind, over my soul and now, it’s becoming abundantly clear, over my body also.

In every way I belong to him, with every cell that fires within me I am his and if I didn’t see every single one of my emotions mirrored right back at me through those incredible hazel eyes I would probably feel slightly threatened, panicked even. But as it is, all I feel is a completeness so encompassing it takes my breath away, a feeling that intensifies as finally, his expression becomes serious, utterly focused on my face, eyes wide open as finally, he pushes fully against me, a strangled cry escaping from him, as I open myself to him, welcoming him, claiming him finally as my own, the sheer weight of my desire for him stealing away rational thought as I throw my head back, feeling his lips on the exposed skin of my neck, clutching him to me even as he begins to thrust against me, lifting my hips to meet his, skin on skin, as stars explode behind my eyes and planets collide, my whole body trembling beneath his touch as he suddenly pauses, finding my lips with his as he closes his eyes and kisses me so deeply, so gently and so reverently I feel like I’m suddenly at the centre of his universe, right where I’m supposed to be. That all things have led to this moment, this joining of two broken souls who despite everything can become whole again, can still find meaning in a world that has taken so much from us both.

“You okay?”

And I suddenly feel like laughing, suffused with a delight that I truly thought had been lost forever.

Because right at this moment I think I’m probably more okay than I have ever been before.

XXXXXXXXXX

EPILOGUE

Even before I open my eyes I know she isn’t here anymore, that I am alone; rumpled sheets wrapped partway around me, my leg half in, half out of the crisp white cotton, tangled up in a bed that even as I hover in that peculiar state between asleep and awake, intoxicates me with the heady scent of her; of us. A delicious mixture of perfume, sweat and sex that evokes such a powerful response within me that I literally feel my heartbeat quicken in my chest as butterflies dance in my stomach at the memory of her. That finally, we threw off our inhibitions, our fears and our lingering insecurities and became one; acknowledging and accepting all that we are to each other. And for a few hours we revelled in our depth of feeling, of our strength and our intimacy as we explored each other with a hunger that I think surprised us both.

The sex was great just as I knew it would be. I mean, it was always going to be great given just how completely we are attuned to each other, not to mention the countless dark nights past where I lay drowning in fantasies of her, beneath me, above me and beside me.

But it was more than that, so much more than a mere physical joining of two people who love each other – because I do love her, I love her with every fibre of my being and with every breath I take – because what I felt last night transcended any other feeling I have ever experienced. And I think given that at one time or another I’ve experienced just about every extreme of emotion life can throw at me, to find that there were depths that hitherto had lain dormant and unknown within me was pretty incredible in itself. Unchartered territory that she somehow unlocked just by her touch, her reactions and the way her eyes fastened unwaveringly with mine and seemed to look right into my soul.

And she has changed me. She has changed me in ways I can yet, barely comprehend.

But even so, she isn’t here; the space she inhabited just a few short hours is cold and empty aside from the lingering scent of her and despite all we shared, how we opened up so fully to each other, the fact that I have woken up once more alone leaves me feeling bereft and incomplete. And if I’m honest, I also feel crushing disappointment that she has felt the need to run; to retreat back to her own world. The ordered world of Dana Scully where everything must be precisely categorized and packed neatly into a small square box in her mind, to be analysed carefully at a later date before she can make her decisions and justifications; to rationalise each and every cause and effect before deciding how to proceed.

And stupidly I guess, because after all I know this woman almost as well as she knows herself, I had still hoped that somehow, for once in her life, she would allow herself to just be; to just accept this as being right and fuck everything else.

But I suppose if she did that she would be fooling herself; pretending to be someone she isn’t and after all, I fell in love with that version of her. To expect her to change now would be to ask her to lie to herself, to deny who she is, and I have no right to expect that level of duplicity from her.

The knowledge though, doesn’t make it any easier to bear and even now as I lie here, the delicious memories of her body against mine as we joined skin to skin, are being pushed to one side by my nagging insecurities that are always hovering just below the surface; ready to gnaw at me, to whisper and torment me with my own twisted version of the truth; that she has already decided that she made a mistake, that we are a mistake. And I truly have no idea how I will react if she pushes me away now, if she retreats behind the fortress she inhabits and one which is impossible to breach without her express permission.

I rub my hand across my eyes, attempting to bring myself to full wakefulness because regardless, today is a working day and we have a job to do; that whatever happens, our professional partnership must remain intact even if everything else crumbles around us and so I swing my legs over the side of the bed, suppressing a groan as my back muscles suddenly scream at me, reminding me of the unfamiliar workout I subjected them to last night and I wonder briefly if Scully is feeling in any better shape than I am.

My shoulders feel stiff, achy and sore although I guess a hot shower will help loosen up the knots and chase away the lingering reminder that despite the fact I would love to persuade myself otherwise, I’m not getting any younger and five years of enforced celibacy, aside from a regular right handed workout, isn’t exactly an effective prelude to the positions I willingly adopted last night as with heady, rapturous enthusiasm I discovered things I’d only ever dared imagine about that enigmatic partner of mine.

The memory actually evokes such a feeling of euphoria within me that despite, everything, I can’t suppress a sudden grin that helps to release, at least in part, some of the tension I have felt since awakening and finding her gone.

My smile lingers as, after pulling on a pair of discarded sweats, I pad bare footed into the living room with the intention of diverting to the kitchen to find some coffee to pour down my parched throat. Caffeine makes everything better; or so I would have myself believe.

But as I cross the threshold, I see movement out of the corner of my eye, a flash of titian hair and pale skin as she sits up and regards me from her position, fully dressed on the sofa, the same blanket I covered her with last night sliding slowly to the floor as she stands up and regards me from across the room; her hair is mussed, her eyes are tired, dark shadows marring her perfect skin that right now, is devoid of even a scrap of makeup and which allows her freckles to make a rare appearance. And I suddenly realise that those freckles now belong to me and that if I want to I can fall asleep counting them every night for the rest of my life.

Because she is here; she is still here.

And even though I didn’t think it were possible, my grin gets even wider, threatening to split my face in two as I stand there stupidly, just looking at her.

“Hey.”

Her voice is soft and she returns my smile with one of her own. Not the full wattage Scully grin that lights up her face and has the ability to knock me flat on my ass, but a new one in her repertoire and one I’ve never seen before. It is sweet and easy and reflects in her eyes; it’s a morning after smile and one that renders me almost giddy with the knowledge that it is for me and me alone.

“I thought you’d left” I admit, slightly surprised when she laughs.

“Mulder I was freezing”

And guiltily I remember how I woke up with the tangled sheets wrapped around me. I guess it will take more practise to share them with anyone after my years of solitary slumber.

“Ah…..um….sorry…you should have woke me up…”

“You’re jet lagged Mulder, you needed sleep.”

Jet lagged.

My face reddens slightly because I’d actually forgotten. Time to come clean I guess.

“I didn’t go Scully.”

“What?”

“I didn’t go to England.”

Her mouth drops open as she shakes her head.

“But you said…”

“I know what I said but…”

I take a few steps toward her and catch her hand in both of mine, lifting it to my lips briefly in a gesture of apology, an unspoken entreaty to please not be mad.

“…..I wanted to chase crop circles with you Scully. And without you it just didn’t seem worth the flight.”

I’m heartened to find that she remains where she is, because I’m honestly not quite sure how she will react to the knowledge I lied to her; a harmless lie sure, but a lie nonetheless.

“But, you were wearing a Stonehenge cap….”

“Driscolls embroidery shop on 5th street Scully. Ten bucks will buy you a design of your choice, lovingly sewn in an array of dazzling colours. I considered getting us his and hers matching H.R.H. underwear but didn’t think you’d go for it.”

And to my astonishment Scully begins to laugh; I mean really laugh and it’s a sound I don’t think I have heard literally for years; it transports me back to a time when we stood together as icy rain poured down on us, freezing us to the bone as we began to see in each other a partnership that against all the odds, might actually be permitted to flourish. So many years ago, so many paths trodden to bring us right here, right back here where we stand together and laugh at nothing in particular, bridging the years in one fell swoop and I know suddenly that all the pain, all the heartache and all the struggle has been worth it.

Because it feels like we have come full circle, completed a journey we began so long ago; running always running from each other as darkness followed us wherever we went.

But right now, she is here.

And now there is only light.

End

Notes - I want to say a heartfelt thanks to everyone who has liked, reblogged or left a comment on this series. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and hope it didn’t disappoint. There are some incredible people on my blog and I am thankful always to be able to share something of me with you all. :)

Ally xxx

#affirmation #my fic #season seven #all things #msr

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thecloudupblog · 5 years

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Q&A With The Band One Minute Run

1. Where are we talking from today? A: We’re from Ventura, CA but we’re currently in Anaheim, CA gearing up to play a homeless benefit concert tonight at the world-famous Doll Hut. 2. What would you like to accomplish in 2019? A: Our main goal for 2019 is continuing to promote our self-titled EP. We've been playing shows all over Southern California and have several more lined up in the Fall. After that, we plan on writing our next record. 3. What is your take on politics? A: We think Politics and Government sucks, period. But we hate what we see going on around us right now and it’s reflective in our music. 4. Where did you get your artist name from? A: Our name was inspired by “If -”, a poem by Rudyard Kipling. 5. Growing up, how important has music been in your life? Can you recall the moment when you decided that you wanted to be a musician? Was it an easy or difficult choice to make? A: We all grew up playing in bands and obsessing over music. For me personally (Thomas, guitar) - my Dad worked at a record label when I was a kid and would bring records home, so music was always playing at my house growing up. When I was 14 I received a guitar for Christmas and I've been playing pretty much every day since. 6. Was there ever a time when you thought about doing something else? If you weren’t a musician today, what could you see yourself doing? A: We all have day jobs, responsibilities, etc but we share a deep passion for music and we’ll always play for that reason. Making money or having a career was never the goal...we simply love writing, playing and expressing ourselves through music. 7. What has been the biggest surprise so far about making music your career? What has been an unexpected or welcome challenge to it all? A: Although music isn’t our career at this point, we’ve had some great opportunities along the way. The biggest was recording with Andrew Berlin at The Blasting Room. Andrew is an incredibly talented Producer/Engineer and many of our musical heroes have recorded at that studio, so that was a real honor. 8. What was it like putting together your E.P? A: As musicians, we enjoy the process of recording. Splitting time between Captains Quarters in Ventura, CA and The Blasting Room in Fort Collins, CO was a fun and rewarding experience, as it allowed us to get the best sounds out of each studio. 9. Who are some of your favorite artists or rather, what musicians have continued to inspire you and your music? Who would you still love to work with in the future? A: Captain Geech & The Shrimp Shack Shooters! We love all genres and all four of us have our different favorites. We try to reflect that in the songs we write. That said, Subhumans, Quicksand, Pixies, The Bronx, Boy Sets Fire, Refused, Black Flag & Hot Water Music are some of the bands we draw inspiration from and would love to work with any of them. 10. What has it been like keeping up with your social media accounts and all of the different platforms? Is it hard to stay up to date on it all? What would you say is your favorite way to connect with your fans now? A: We enjoy staying engaged with our friends and fans via the various social media platforms...it’s never a challenge because we dig it! 11. If you were going to be stranded on a deserted island, what musical item would you take with you and why? A: An iPod so we can listen to music! But we'd also fashion musical instruments from coconuts and tree branches. 12. If your music was going to be featured on any TV show that is currently on right now, which would you love it to be on? Or if you prefer, what is a movie that you love that you wish your music was featured in? A: Rick & Morty, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Stranger Things. 13. At the end of the day, what do you hope people take away from your music? A: Hopefully we can inspire people to live their best life and make the most of each day! 14. When you are not making music what else do you enjoy to do? A: Hanging with friends and family, surfing, climbing, snowboarding, bowling 15. Where you @ online? A: All things OneMinuteRun related can be found at www.oneminuterun.com. Also, check out the video for our first single "1440" on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7hwM-SadKis

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#rock #pop #California #music news

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213hiphopworldnews · 5 years

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Janelle Monae’s Grammy-Nominated ‘Dirty Computer’ Is The Album Black Women Need Right Now

Getty Image/Bad Boy Records

“I go forth alone and stand as 10,000.” — Maya Angelou

As the opener of Janelle Monae’s newest record bursts into its second track, the fluorescent pop-rap fusion of “Crazy Classic Life,” I can hear traces of the expansive synth-crazed ‘80s I was born into. Legwarmers and big hair; Phil Collins and Boy George; Flashdance and Pretty In Pink. And, of course, the way the song’s booming, frolicky production is complicated by lyrics of impending doom, “So if the world should end tonight / I had a crazy, classic life.” That last line of that otherwise upbeat hook feels holy, immortal — and timely.

When I listened to Dirty Computer for the first time, it was like hearing my Black, blue-collar, southern girlhood set to a soundtrack of big, bright ‘80s pop — only this time with the mic in my hands. For all my infatuation with the music and culture of the ‘80s, there had been a gulf between me and Sixteen Candles’ Molly Ringwald, between me and even the inevitably doomed Culture Club hook I still remember by heart: “Time won’t give me time…” Even as I watched the culture from somewhere outside it and sang along to its music, I wondered if there could ever be a time when the gulf between us would lessen — a moment in which the culture I idolized might fully be mine.

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Beginning with the Metropolis: Suite I (The Chase) EP, set in the year 2719, Janelle Monae introduced her alter-ego Cyndi Mayweather, a genre-hopping, Black female android who was being hunted for the crime of falling in love with a human. Cyndi’s epic cyborg saga developed further on 2010’s critically acclaimed The ArchAndroid — a supersonic admixture of R&B and funk threaded with rock, euro-folk, rap, and cabaret — and a project that cemented Janelle as the kind of artist my college professor would call a “cat on a hot tin roof.” Or, more directly, a transgressor of genre lines, lyrically, visually, and sonically.

Noted for bringing Afrofuturism and science fiction into R&B and pop in a big way, Monae’s music has been compared to George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic, her beloved former mentor Prince, and Sun Ra. Over the course of a decade and three project releases, Monae built an Afrofuturist femme-ruled universe in which she reigned as “funkstress,” defying easy categorization and, according to scholars, re-framing a historically male-centered Afrofuturism like Clinton’s into a neo-Afrofuturism that centers black women — an extraordinary feat for an artist still as early in her career as Monae.

On Dirty Computer, which is considered by some to be a sort of prequel to Cyndi Mayweather’s universe, Monae’s decade-long Afrofuturist world-building collides into biomythography, a literary genre that merges history, fact, and myth. Coupled with the fact that the album’s massive Grammy nominations precede Cyndi Mayweather’s lush 2719 “cybersoul” funkscape by exactly 700 years, the project’s timing feels mythic and magical — as if Janelle can manipulate time and space themselves to reflect her reality.

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Audre Lorde coined the term “biomythography” in 1982 to house her newest project Zami: A New Spelling of My Name. The self-described “Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet” created the category in response to the limitations of the genres she’d been tethered to her whole career. A convergence of history, memoir, and myth, biomythography was a space where Lorde could represent her queered, Black, working-class womanhood without the socio-political limitations of established genres that were already irrevocably male-centered and heteronormative minded. Within this new form, Lorde created a space where she could be feminine and masculine to a degree that was unacceptable to the “mainstream” literary canon or, put more simply, be her entire self.

In the case for Dirty Computer as biomythography, the “myth” is embedded in the album’s Android saga backstory. Because of it, we can see three women in Dirty Computer’s cover art: Cyndi Mayweather, Janelle Monae, and Jane 57821. Here, myth and magic create a space for the reclamation of female autonomy flying in the face of powerful, oppressive men and contextualizing female rebellion against misogyny as both an epic and a timely battle. Consider the pointed lyrical rebuttal of “I Got the Juice.” In this instance, pussy is mythical, “divine,” and has political power: It will “grab you back” and give you “pussy cataracts.” This phrasing is threaded with myth, but also functions as a real response to one of the most misogynist comments in America’s pop culture memory.

Dirty Computer’s accompanying emotion picture opens amid a cultural “cleaning” of epic proportions. As mugshot-like photos of citizens appear one after the other, Jane 57821 narrates: “They started calling us computers. People began vanishing. And the cleaning began.” Jane explains the qualifications for said cleaning — “You were dirty if you looked different. You were dirty if you refused to live the way they dictated…” — before an all-important concept emerges in the exposition’s final word, appearing on the screen just as Jane concludes: “If you were dirty, it was only a matter of time.”

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Time is, in fact, the major difference between Dirty Computer and its Android saga predecessors. Monae croons in the album’s opener: “I’ll love you in this space and time,” and unlike her past work, this album’s footing is firmly in the present. In a conversation with Billboard Monae said of the project: “Overall, I wanted to reflect what’s happening in the streets right now, and what might happen tomorrow if we don’t band together and fight for love.” This is not Cyndi Mayweather’s Afrofuturist funkscape future: This is Jane 57821’s buoyant, dirty, complicated pop present where she must take full ownership of the narrative.

Dirty Computer also feels biomythographical because of its position in real time and also because of its insistence on complete ownership. Lorde created biomythography out of a very real urgency to fully manifest her multifaceted identity, to define her work as she pleased, and Dirty Computer takes the same stand. On songs like “Americans” in which present day fact and historical memory collide, Monae takes “Americans” to task for racism, sexism, and heterosexism, transforming the word “American” into a loaded, often pejorative descriptor, but still insisting matter of factly: “I’m American.” This seeming contradiction re-frames the term to center the perspective of those historically oppressed and shows Monae, again, claiming full ownership of all facets of her own narrative.

On “Django Jane,” Monae uses rap not only as a means of “leveling up” to the male-dominated hip-hop industry, proving she can flow as well as any of the boys, but as a means of unearthing rap’s historical self — as a sociopolitical expression, from the mouth of a queer, dark-skinned Black woman, no less — tucked neatly into what is overall a sonically pop-oriented record. She dedicates her Emmy to the “highly melanated / arch-Android orchestrated” before the thread of inevitable doom resurfaces: “…tuck the pearls in / just in case the world end.” Taken together, the lines celebrate Blackness at the same time they express a hyper-awareness of its dangers.

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In the same Billboard conversation where Monae references the album’s timeliness, she also says: “I’ve been inspired by the people that came before me, the artists who pushed the limits of where music can go and how it can be represented visually.” It goes without saying that Monae understands her place in the present historical moment — and that she also sees herself in the long lineage of Black women before her. And though Dirty Computer is Janelle’s most personal album, the very idea of myth implies a shrouded-ness; its presence next to fact infers a degree of mystery, that even some of the facts will be veiled just as the album cover’s deified pop icon. On “I Like That” when Monae calls herself a “walking contradiction” who is “factual and fiction,” she leaves room not just for ambiguity, but the ambiguity of her choosing.

Dirty Computer, like Lorde’s Zami, takes the fact and history of Black suffering, joy, and being and wraps it in the magic of myth, making legendary meaning of the “meaningless” lives of Black women both past and present, from Lorde and Monae to their working-class mothers and beyond. In biomythography, one woman stands for many; the not one, but three possible faces we see in Dirty Computer’s album art. The elusive ambiguity that marks Dirty Computer is also its purest artistic element: Its intent, as part myth, is to memorialize the Black queer working women who were buried in unmarked pop culture graves before Monae came along to valorize them. Monae’s true work is to allow those at the paralyzed margins to take their rightful place in history and legend, creating a loving, inclusive center within the finicky confines of a bleeding pop beating heart specifically for those who have been traditionally excluded.

Dirty Computer is as important as a pop album as it is a historical moment, because it dares to center the personal (and, therefore, political) struggle of a dark-skinned, Black, pansexual woman for a pop audience not traditionally welcoming of “The Other.” Dirty Computer says that the complex embodiment of my extremes is not only possible but heroic. It bridges the gulf between me and popular culture — insists that its music can be fully mine.

Whether it wins any of the many Grammys it’s been nominated for or not, Dirty Computer is the past, present, and future aligning like stars — a biomythographically infused pop album that sings, raps, and leaps in celebration of infinitely complex outcasts like Lorde and Monae who birth new genres in the face of opposition. As Maya Angelou wrote in homage to her foremothers: “I go forth alone and stand as 10,000.” Wherever Monae lands on Grammy night, she already shines as a mythic many — Lorde and all our gloriously queer, complicated ancestors shine in her constellation.

source https://uproxx.com/hiphop/janelle-monae-dirty-computer-audre-lorde-biomythography/

#hiphop #hip hop legend #hip hop history #hip hop #music #trending #hip hop news #ballin #hip hop scen

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allyinthekeyofx · 7 years

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Affirmation 2/5

Series of post eps starting with ‘Orison’ that are my take on the path to ‘All Things’

Part one ‘Orison’ here

This one is for @sunshinetoday because she suggested I write it :) Thanks to @guitargirl48 because you give me courage!

Post Episode PER MANUM

I am conscious of Mulder hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me, always watching me; waiting I think maybe for me to break down again. But my crying is done, at least for the moment.

In fact I have barely cried at all, briefly as he held me in his arms and implored me to not give up, to believe that miracles can happen, I allowed myself to cling to him and let the scalding tears mingle with his own before I had gently taken a step back, to turn away from him before I came completely undone.

Because I no longer believe in miracles; what little hope I allowed myself to have has disappeared, swirled in to nothingness to leave me hollow, empty and far less of a woman than I ever expected to be.

Because I have failed.

I allowed myself to believe in a miracle that I should have known could never be and what is almost more heartbreaking in a way is that I let Mulder believe it too; saw the hope flare in his eyes when I offered him the chance to be more a part of my life that I think either of us had ever thought could be possible.

A chance at happiness; to achieve for ourselves all that others take for granted, to regain something we both thought had been stolen forever. A way to reconcile the last few terrible years where nothing has been constant and much has been taken.

For us both to finally catch a break.

But I should have known better; because for us, happiness has always been elusive and the smallest victory has come at a high price.

And yet even so, I wanted badly to believe it could be so, lay awake night after night, willing my body to not betray me as it has itself been betrayed. Maybe that’s my penance – my punishment for everything sacrificed to a quest that ceased to be Mulders alone a long time ago.

I have fought and justified and even killed for this truth we both seek, reconciling again and again the most heinous acts of retribution in an attempt to somehow reclaim all that has been taken from us both.

Seven long years of pain and hurt and blood and tears.

To now be left with nothing.

Almost nothing.

Because there is Mulder. Always there is Mulder.

And I wish sometimes I could find a way to hate him, to release myself from the invisible ties that bind us so closely together but I know deep down that it’s too late for that now. Because somehow along the way we became so allied to each other that I find it hard now to ever imagine my life without him by my side.

Maybe that’s why I asked him to father this miracle child who will now never be; to give him the opportunity to refuse – to walk away from me and finally allow me to hate him just as I hate myself and what I’ve become. But of course he didn’t walk away, just as I knew he wouldn’t. Because there is a love that exists between us that is unexplainable; a love that has endured and strengthened through the harshest cold and most scalding heat, a love that that is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time and a love that, if I’m certain of nothing else, I know will last for all eternity.

I had expected him to leave after I had delivered the news that the IVF had failed; that we had failed. Had wanted him to leave just so I could find a way to come to terms with this final travesty, this final cruel assault on my future, because truly I have no idea anymore who I am, least of all who I may one day become. And it was only when he didn’t leave that I realised just how much I wanted him to stay because there is only one thing I’m certain of right now and that is him. Because no matter how many walls I build around myself, how strong I appear outwardly, he is the glue that holds the threads of my fractured life together and without him I am nothing anymore.

He’s worried about me. I can feel the concern radiating from him just as surely as if it were physical form that I could hold in my hands but even more than that I feel his sadness; a sadness born from all the years of heartache; heartache which, while shared between us, he tries to shoulder the responsibility alone and it doesn’t make a difference how many times I try to ease his burden, it remains his own cross to bear and one which he seems all too willing to carry regardless of the terrible toll it continues to wreak upon him.

Maybe we don’t deserve happiness; I think maybe we never have. Two lost souls thrown together just trying to survive and for the first time I wonder just what kind of life we could ever have hoped to give an innocent child; that maybe denying us this chance really is God’s will.

But I had wanted it. I wanted it so badly; more I think than anything I have ever wanted in my life before.

And almost without me realising it, I am grabbing the mug that sits innocuously beside its partner on the worktop and almost by reflex I hurl it against the tiled wall in front of me. The sound of the china shattering against the ceramic is one of the ugliest sounds I think I have ever heard, reverberating around the room like a punctuation mark that sears my soul even as it satisfies some deep primal need to hurt something as I myself am hurting.

The sound acts as a catalyst I think and for a second I am unsure as to where the high pitched keening cry is coming from until I suddenly feel Mulders hands grasping at my shoulders, roughly spinning me around so he can pull me against him, encircling me with his arms as he holds me. But even though I want to, I can’t find the strength to return the gesture so it’s probably a good thing that he is holding on tightly enough for both of us, holding me as I begin to fall; sobbing against his chest with an intensity that steals my breath and renders me incapable of speech.

But I should know by now that words aren’t necessary anymore with this man, that maybe they never really were; because I feel his lips against my crown, warm breath against my hair as he tightens his hold on me, grounding me in a way only he can, his whispered words so soft they are barely audible.

“I know. I know. I wanted it too. It’s okay Scully, it’s okay....I’m here.”

XXXXX

Much later I am nestled against him, feeling his strong fingers tracing patterns on my skin, random touches that keep us connected even when it feels as though the world is falling beneath our feet and it’s always been that way for us I think. Small connections that make up the whole; that enable us to keep trying. To carry on. To keep fighting.

He had held me until my body had stilled, for the anguished hitching sobs to subside just enough for him to cup my face in his hands, his warmth settling against me like a balm as he gently lowered his lips to mine, lingering for just a moment before he tracked small desperate kisses along the curve of my cheekbone, across my forehead and down the other side, finding my mouth again where I opened myself to him, wanting and needing to feel something, anything other than the crushing disappointment that weighed so heavily upon me; tasting salt from the tears he had banished from my skin.

And I hadn’t protested when he enveloped my hand in both of his as he led me to my bed, stopping just once as he felt me stiffen slightly, understanding without me needing to speak just what I was prepared to offer but more crucially, what he was prepared to take.

Because just as he knew what I needed on that night not so very long ago when the spectre of Donnie Pfaster loomed dark and forbidding before us, he somehow knew tonight just how to settle the demons that had returned once again to plague me. Demons of a different form maybe, but no less destructive; no less insidious.

And he had gentled me with his touch, reverently undressing me even as he never allowed our gaze to break, keeping himself connected to me with those beautiful eyes that reflected such respect, such concern and such compassion that I wanted to drown myself in him and never resurface. The feeling of his hands on me, feather light touches that reminded me that we are alive; that we will continue to live even when it feels like there is nothing left to live for except each other.

The feel of him against me, skin on skin was electric and for a moment I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that to be together in this way must be torture for him, feeling the evidence of his arousal all too obvious and finally I think I understood why he had pushed me away in that dingy motel room, when he had denied us both that final affirmation of all we mean to each other. Because we deserve so much more than this. He deserves so much more and I think he would wait until the end of time for us to finally come together, not out of desperation, of pain, of hurting and of mourning, but simply because we can’t not.

And I think I loved him tonight more completely than I ever have before; because deep down I know he is right.

So tonight I will sleep in his arms for the first time, inhaling the scent of him; feeling every inch of him as he curls himself around me, his palms resting lightly on the livid bruises that darken my belly, evidence of a child that wasn’t meant to be and as he kisses away the tears I know will surely return, maybe, just maybe I will allow myself to imagine a future where it might just be possible to believe in miracles again.

Because for all the uncertainty, for all the confusion and for all the heartbreak that has clouded this day, I know without question that he will be here with me.

And that has to be enough.

For now.

Continued part 3

��A,

#affirmation #my fic #msr #season of secret sex #per manum #IVF is a bitch

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