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thebigqueer · 3 years

Note

A while back you mentioned something about the Apollo kids parents meeting up every one in a while and Apollo running into them during one of those times. Do you think you could write a lil fic about that?

ahhh yes that’s one of my favorite headcanons!!

thanks for the prompt, and i hope you like this! and, as always: i do little to no editing on these fic prompts, so don’t be too judgmental as you read through them. they’re definitely not my best work but i just can’t ever be bothered to look back aslkdjslfkd

this will be in first person because idk i really loved apollo’s pov in first person so i hope i do his character justice lmaoo

also as i was writing this i’m not gonna lie i felt really bad for apollo all he wanted was to have some time with his children 😭

also!!! we are!!! so starved!!! for dad!apollo moments!!!! bro can we just!!! see more dad!apollo moments!!!! come ON rick!!!! i didn’t realize how much i wanted them until i wrote this halskjfaslkjf

I will say, I wasn’t quite sure what to be expecting when I came down to the mortal world today. It definitely was not to find out all of my exes regroup annually to mock me.

Since becoming a god again, I’ve made it a personal promise to come down every once in a while. I’ve grown quite attached to these mortals, especially to my demigod children. After all, my own descendants are the best of all living beings; it’s only fair that I come and talk to them every once in a while. And, believe it or not, being around mortals helps me, too. It makes me find comfort in a world where lives may be short but lives are lived; as a god, I only ever exist.

When I was human, though, I truly lived. It was exhilarating. Now that I am a deity again, there’s a hollowness that resides in me.

Sometimes coming down to this mortal world helps me simulate that experience of being human again. It helps me feel less lonely up in my world of immortality and timelessness.

The sun blazes overhead as I traipse along to my cabin after just meeting with Dionysus. The insufferable bastard beat me once again at pinochle and would not stop gloating, so I decided to storm away from the wine god before he could start beating my ass in Uno.

However, as I approach my cabin, my rage ebbs away. My demigod children stand around the entrance, talking in hushed voices, and my heart bursts with warmth. It has only been a few weeks since I’ve last seen them, but each time I do, I feel only a flush of pride looking at them.

“My children!” I exclaim. “I’m here once again!”

They all jump as if I’ve scared them. For a moment, no one says anything. Then they break apart and each of them offer me a shaky smile of their own.

“Hey, Dad,” Will says, his voice a bit higher than I remember.

I step forward, happiness flooding over me. It hasn’t been too long since I’ve seen them but it certainly feels like it’s been millennia. “How are you all?”

Kayla pushes a pack over her shoulder. “We’re... good. How are you?”

Her words carry a bit of hesitation as if she’s nervous. Suspicion crawls over me. I cross my arms and respond, “I’m good too. Why do you have that bag over your shoulder?”

Austin, Will, and Kayla all turn to each other, sharing a look of panic. A shiver runs through me as I realize they’re up to something. I smile. “Ohhh, are you planning something? A prank, perhaps?” I rub my hands in anticipation. “Can I get in on it?”

Austin raises a hand and scratches his head. “Um, not quite. We’re actually... going somewhere.”

Panic seizes my heart and I rush forward. “Going somewhere? Where? Like, a quest?” I reach out to my children and hug them, feeling each of their bodies in my arms. “Why did no one tell me? Oh, gods, what if I never see you again?” Tears well up in my throat. I’ve only just come down to the mortal world, and they’re already leaving for doom?

“No, no, no!” Kayla exclaims, pushing against my arms. “Not like that, Dad! Not a quest. We’re just going out to the city. No need to worry.”

Relief washes over me and I laugh, taking my arms away from them. “Oh, that’s great! Are you going somewhere fun? Can I come?”

Before any of them can answer, a familiar demigod steps out of the Apollo cabin. They step towards Will and hand him a pack of ambrosia. It takes me for a moment to remember that it’s Nico di Angelo. He opens his mouth to speak to Will, then stops when they notice me. “Oh no,” they mutter.

“What do you mean, oh no?” I ask, the claws of suspicion creeping over my skin once more. “What are you three up to? Is Nico coming with you?”

Nico whispers to the three, “You haven’t told him?”

“Not a good time,” Kayla hisses.

“Well, I guess now is a better time than never,” Nico says. They turn to me and state blatantly, “They’re going to meet their parents in New York City.”

Kayla and Austin smack their faces and Will sighs. “You could have let us say it,” the blond mutters.

“Better to know from a child that isn’t his,” the child of Hades reasons, shrugging.

I blank. I was not quite expecting that response, and definitely not so casually. I stare at the four demigods quizzically. “Oh? I suppose that’s fair. But all three of you? All your parents know each other?”

“Um, well... they’re kind of friends,” Austin admits. “They... communicate often.”

A wave of humility washes over me. I will admit, it’s a little bit embarrassing knowing that the three people you’ve had children with all know each other and actively communicate. I would have suspected they’d feel a bit awkward with each other, but I didn’t quite expect they would be actual friends.

I tip my head in a sad nod. “I see. Well, I hope all three of you have fun today!” I’m trying not to sound too upset, but it’s a little bit hard when you’ve come down to the mortal world just to find out your children are going to be going into the city far away from you.

“Hey, Dad, we can hang out later!” Will suggests, a kind smile balancing over his lips. But he’s only saying that out of pity. He feels bad for me. This makes me crawl in further into myself.

“Yes, that sound alright,” I promise, feigning a smile. "But, really, don’t feel bad.” My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “The last time I met your parents their careers were becoming quite busy. I suppose you don’t see them as often as you’d like, is that correct? And at this point, you’ve been seeing me even more often than your own mortal parents. It’s only fair that you have some private time with them.”

A tense silence tightens the air around us. Austin shifts on his feet. After a moment, Kayla says, “Well, we better go. We’ll see you later, though!”

A cold fist seizes my heart.

Will winces. He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “We’re sorry to leave you like this, but we didn’t expect you to come by today. We can definitely do something later, though. The three of us will be back by six. Nico’s going to do ghost stories tonight, too, so maybe you’ll want to hear those.”

I wave my hand dismissively and try on a smile that doesn’t quite fit right. “No, really, don’t feel too bad. I’ll come by later and we can do a movie night together after Nico’s ghost stories. I’ll see you later! And have fun!”

They all glance at each other hesitantly, then seem to come to a collective agreement. “Thanks, Dad,” Austin says, pulling me in for a hug. The other two do the same, then all three demigods wander out into the sun, aiming for the exit out of camp.

Nico stares at me, eyebrows raised. “So, what are you going to do now?” Picking at their jeans, they add, “You’re Apollo, so I’m expecting that you will be doing something stupid.”

I frown. “Those are brave words for a demigod to say to a powerful deity.”

“You’re too mushy at this point to pulverize me. They’ve made you soft.” He means it as an insult but their eyes glimmer. A smile laces his mouth.

I offer them a smile back. “Well, I suppose you are correct. I shall see you for your god-tier ghost stories.”

Nico shakes his head and turns to leave. “Please never reference modern things ever again.”

A little bit later, I’m balancing on a chair at a pizza shop in New York City. I’ve chosen the disguise of a businessman, mostly copying the image of a fairly attractive man I met on the way. Perhaps I will go and look for him after I’m done stalking my children.

The scent of pizzas swirl around me, contaminating my nose. The excited chatter of families and friends surround me. Some afternoon sun pours in through the open windows, offering the entire pizza place a relaxed look.

Somewhere to my left, a large group eats and talks, laughter echoing from their table. All my children are sitting to one side of the booth, while the adults loom over them on the other. Will’s bright blond hair gleams blindingly as the sun washes over his locks.

I wasn’t quite sure of what I was expecting from all three of my exes. Perhaps more gray hair, some wrinkles over their faces. No doubt all three of them have those, but they each look at peace, happy with life. There’s a brightness in their eyes as they gaze at their children.

I understand that look. I feel the same pride when I see all three of them.

Envy roils inside me. I’m not sure why, considering that I see the three demigods more often than they see their own mortal parents. Perhaps I’m just nervous that they adore their mortal parents more than they care for me.

But I wouldn’t blame them if they did either. I’ve spent too long only caring about myself. A coil of embarrassment wraps around me.

But I’m changing that now, aren’t I? I wasn’t the best parent, but I can only hope my children are seeing that I’m here for them. I only want what’s best for them.

Another burst of laughter erupts from the booth, and I turn my head, straining my ears to listen. Naomi’s silky voice echoes over them: “...and just as he got up he tripped over himself and fell on the ground. Honestly, I have no idea how he could have been a god, but he sure was dumb.” Naomi sighs. “Maybe that’s why I thought he was so adorable. People just constantly try to impress me. He did, too, but at least he was failing. He may have been a god, but he seemed almost human the night I met him.”

With a shiver, I realize that she’s discussing the moment she met me. Red hot embarrassment spreads over my face. Gods of Olympus, that was a terrible evening for me. I was just so awestruck by her performance. She literally made me come down just to see her perform. I could barely contain my excitement when the show was over!

Will’s sunny voice stands out, amusement lacing his voice. “Speaking of dating, tell us about your new girlfriend. I don’t remember you telling me about her too much at our last Iris message.”

My eyes widen. Girlfriend? I wasn’t aware Naomi was queer! A pang of guilt stabs me in the heart. What else don’t I know about my loved ones? I know I haven’t quite kept up with her, but shouldn’t I at least know this about her?

Shouldn’t I know anything about the three of my exes?

The chatter continues for a bit longer. The adults discuss some more dating history, especially surrounding their humiliating encounters with me. I cower behind my newspaper, feeling only the heat of embarrassment under my skin. Why must I be such an idiot?

Perhaps this is why my children don’t seem to like to me too much. Because I only ever do things to embarrass them. Maybe I’m just a loser of a father.

As I wallow in my own pity, the conversation turns another direction. My ears strain a little more. This time Latricia is speaking, a whisper of nostalgia brushing through her words: “He sure was something. But I think that we can all agree on something: I’m glad he came into my life. Without him...” Her lips quirk into a smile and she brushes her fingers over Austin’s. “Well, without him, I don’t think we’d have each of you. He really brought light into our lives.” She sighs. “He may not have stuck along too much, but you three make it sound like he’s getting better. I’m just glad that... that you’re getting to talk with him again. It seems like he really is starting to care about his children.” Latricia’s eyes rove over all three children, eyes glimmering with satisfaction. “I’m glad he’s seeing you three in the same light as we do.”

My ears turn hot and a red blush coats my cheeks. She’s right; I do appreciate them. Without my children, I don’t know how I could have managed to get through everything I did. Even now, after all that’s happened, it feels as though I have nothing better to look forward to than knowing how amazing they are. Tears stab my eyes.

And I almost jump out of my seat when someone calls, “You can stop hiding behind that newspaper, Apollo. We know it’s you.”

The voice surprises me so much I pop right back into my typical godly form, chiton and all. I’m already so embarrassed that I barely even realize that I’m half naked in public now. Grimacing, I stand and offer an awkward wave. “Ah, hello.”

Darren Knowles smiles at me, a knowing sparkle in his eyes. “You thought you were being stealthy, didn’t you?”

It’s been a while since I’ve really seen Darren, and the years have certainly aged him. Yet there’s still a flutter in my chest as I look at him. He doesn’t look so bad; he’s probably in his thirties or forties. I smile. “Well, I thought my godly powers would help disguise me.”

“Not as well as you thought,” Latricia remarks, smirking at me.

“How long have you known I was here?”

This time, Kayla speaks up. “Dad, we literally knew you were here the moment you got here.”

I blink. “And you didn’t call me out?”

Will shakes his head. “We wanted to see what you’d do. Gotta say, I’m surprised you didn’t do anything too spontaneous. Good job.”

He’s teasing me, but even then I feel a brush of humility come over me. “Well, I have to say that I didn’t quite know you three only come together to make fun of me.”

Naomi waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “Only to make sure our children know how lucky we are to have them.” Her eyes rove over me, almost as if judging how much I’ve changed. “I haven’t seen you in a while," she notes.

The three adults share a look, carrying a silent conversation with each other. Will, Austin, and Kayla watch me as if they expected me to do exactly this. Austin laughs. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

I shrug. “I just... I don’t know. I know I already see you three often enough, but I suppose I just wanted to see how things were going. Especially with your parents.” I glance at them, my cheeks blooming red. “I haven’t exactly been the best parent in the past. I just want to apologize. And let you know that your children... Well, they’re some of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met. You’ve raised them better than I could ever have.”

Silence lingers in the air, waiting for someone to make the next move. Then Darren gestures to the food before them. “Why don’t you sit? I suppose we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

#anon tag #asks #apollo/lester #lester/apollo #lester papdopoulos #rick riordan #riordanverse #will solace #kayla knowles #austin lake #latricia lake #darren knowles #naomi solace #my writing #riordanverse fic #riordanverse fanfic #fic prompts #fic prompt #dad!apollo

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

All in Your Head (Part 4)

SSA Main Story ✧ Batman ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says gently, “It appears to be an alteration of Scarecrow’s fear toxin.”

Bruce groans as he drops down from the table, “What kind of alteration?”

Alfred doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, he stares at Bruce and from the way he looks, he might already know, “It’s a lot milder. Mild enough to not affect your consciousness…” he let his words hang as he watches the slow recognition dawn on Bruce’s face. “And only affect you while you’re unconscious.”

Bruce clenches his fists and suddenly finds it hard to swallow.

“They know.”

Bruce tried his best to avoid sleeping for the next two weeks until the fear toxin was completely out of his system. Even then, he doesn’t see you in his dreams for almost a month. He doesn’t think it’s because you’re not sleeping. His best guess is that you bought link blockers from the black market and took them.

Incredibly irresponsible but a smart move. If you had been in the dreamscape with Bruce’s subconscious, you would have died a thousand different ways in the hands of a different villain every night. Just like he did.

Bruce Wayne can handle his own death. He’s prepared himself for it before he first took up the mantle. He visualizes it every night and he always dies alone.

He doesn’t want the people he cares about to get hurt. Not just physically. He doesn’t want anyone to see him die and have to carry that image throughout their lives. He loves his parents but sometimes he wishes he would stop seeing their faces in the darkness. He wishes he didn’t have to live through it over and over again, every single night.

The alley light flickers over their dead bodies and Bruce looks up at the sight of a shadow walking into the light. He knows it’s not you. He knows the you in front of him was made by his own subconscious. A perversion.

You kneel down, your bare knees crunching the gravel that pokes at your skin, but you’re smiling as if it doesn’t hurt. As if his parents aren’t dead behind you.

You touch him, your palms pressing against his cheeks and lifting his face to look at you. To turn away from the bodies and only look into your eyes. Gentle and warm unlike the cold and stench of Crime Alley.

Your thumb brushes his cheekbones and it makes him weak. Bruce wishes this made him sick to his stomach but he misses you so much he lets this poor copy of you pull him into an embrace.

Its arms cling around his neck. It snuggles its nose just below his ear. One of its hands cup the back of his head and tangle its fingers in his hair. Mimicking everything you do, exactly as you do it when you embrace him. A perfect replica of everything Bruce remembers about your touch.

It’s only when Bruce wakes up that he feels the repulsion of what he’s done.

One night, after a difficult mission with the League that brought them no closer to uncovering more of Luthor’s plans, Bruce enters the dreamscape and finds himself in the main hall of the Watchtower.

He wonders if he accidentally went through the zeta tube instead of his bedroom door. But then he sees you staring out the window. He tries to make you go away and you feel the push of his subconscious.

You turn around and stare at him. Bruce is startled, one foot raised in midstep like a burglar caught red-handed. You narrow your eyes at him.

“You’ve been spending your nights with a fake me.”

You didn’t need to hear the answer because the guilt already made its way around the creases of Bruce’s face.

“We promised.”

Bruce walks toward you slowly. He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. “Forgive me.”

You watch Bruce hide his face from you, bowing down before you. You gently retrieve your hand and hold his cheeks in your palms. As you lift his head, you look at him with your brows furrowed.

“Have you been lonely?” you ask. Bruce closes his eyes and presses against your touch. You pull him closer until you can hide your face in his chest, hiding the creases of your own brows. “I’m sorry, too.”

Your soulmate lifts your head from his chest and kisses you.

You have always expected the things in the dreamscape to be surreal, after all, they only resemble what could be. But whenever you kiss, it feels so warm and all-consuming that you know in your heart this is what Bruce’s kiss tastes like in the waking world.

He pulls away and gives himself just enough space to look at you. To memorize every contour, every bump, every sunken skin on your face. Bruce knows his subconscious could never replicate your perfection.

You smile at Bruce and then suddenly grab hold of his cheeks too quickly, making a slapping sound in the dreamscape.

“Bruce! I have good news. Great news!”

While Bruce mimics your wide eyes, yours from excitement, his from your pseudo-slap, you alter the Watchtower lobby into what looks like a cramped temple with small Greek columns.

“You went to the Fates,” Bruce assumes immediately. He’s frowning.

Despite his growing fondness for you and your link, Bruce detests the whole soulmate business and the Fate sisters. He believes anyone who’s not willing to cooperate with the Justice League has something sinister to hide.

“I didn’t plan on going to them,” you turn to your soulmate with a sheepish look and playful smile, knowing what you’re about to say is much worse. “I was at the black market--” Bruce knows but just hearing your confession made him narrow his eyes. “But you wouldn’t believe who I met there--”

An apparition of you enters the small temple, following another figure who places an offering at the atrium and calls out to the Fates.

“That’s Lex Luthor’s soulmate.”

Bruce almost can’t believe what you’re saying. He doesn’t understand why you’re smiling. “Y/N--”

“It’s not what you think,” because you already know exactly what he’s suggesting. Being in each other’s subconscious has made both of you more sensitive to each other’s tells. “His soulmate wants to helps us, Bruce.”

“How do you know she’s Luthor’s soulmate.”

“Because she knows who I am,” Bruce narrows his eyes, trying to think deeply while listening to you. “They have a memory link, one of the rarest. It plants the soulmate into someone’s memories so it feels like they’ve been together their whole lives. One of the memories she was in was when Luthor found out about our link and hired Scarecrow to make your fear toxin.”

Silence suddenly filled the dreamscape and all figures have stopped. Even you and Bruce. You haven’t talked about your last night together. Everything that transpired. Haunting memories relived. You dying.

You’re startled by the hand that holds you. Bruce squeezes your hand until you look him in the eyes. His gaze is gentle. His eyes are almost glistening.

“Luthor could have put her up to this,” he says softly.

“He didn’t.”

“What makes you so sure, Y/N?”

Bruce only ever calls you by your first name when he’s being his most affectionate. When you’re hiding in your whispers, under the sheets, or crying to wakefulness. He says it now because Bruce Wayne is genuinely fearful of what might happen to you.

“Because I met her, Bruce.” Before he could say another word, you hold up your hand, a gentle tell to let you continue. “I could tell that she loves Luthor. That’s why she wants to help us stop him.”

Bruce is shaking his head, “I don’t understand, Y/N.”

You smile at Bruce and turn back to the apparitions in the temple. Two more figures enter the room. Two old women in grey loose tunics that flowed down to the cobbled floor. Luthor’s soulmate bows down to pick up her offering and hands it to them.

The scene continues silently and you lean in to whisper to Bruce, “She’s asking for their forgiveness because Luthor kidnapped one of their sisters a few years ago.”

Bruce’s brows furrow, connecting the dots in his head, realizing how Luthor has been able to do the unthinkable with the links. “He’s been planning this for years?”

“According to his soulmate, since he was 17. Ever since he found out about their link.” You suddenly had the urge to wrap your arms around Bruce as you continue to look into the temple.

Bruce rubs the small of your back. “I take it that he wasn’t very happy about the arrangement.”

“Ever the detective,” you tease but without heart.

You watch the scene continue. Luthor’s soulmate straightens up and addresses each of the sisters.

“I just want to know if Lex’s plan will work. If it’s possible that he can use the links’ power to alter destiny itself.”

Bruce grits his teeth. “So that’s his endgame.”

The Fate sisters turn to each other. The tallest and wisest one answers her, “Child, there is no such thing as destiny. Not the one you think of. The only real destiny is death. Even for those who think themselves immortal.”

You chuckle a little despite the atmosphere. It’s one of the things Bruce has loved about you. “Makes you grateful you don’t have to talk to them for League business.”

Bruce smirks.

“But I need your help! We have to stop him or more people are going to lose their links and get hurt. Don’t you want your sister back?”

The smaller sister, the compassionate one, touches her arm, “Our sister will survive. We’re not the ones to help you. You know this.” The sisters said their goodbyes and left the atrium. Luthor’s soulmate turns to you before the dream vanishes and returns you and Bruce to the Watchtower lobby.

You turn to Bruce and he’s already glaring at you. He’s already put two and two together and summed up the rest of your story.

You gulp before telling him, “She wants to help the Justice League stop Luthor but... in exchange for a big favor.”

SSA Main Story ✧ Batman ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5

#bruce wayne #batman #DC imagines #bruce wayne x reader #DC x reader #ssa #superhero soulmate au #soulmate au #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne imagine #Batman imagine #Batman fanfiction #Batman x reader #watchtower-feed #atbucud

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docholligay · 3 years

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The Wild Iris

I love poetry. I love poetry, and yet somehow manage to forget this until I am in the middle of reading poetry. I don’t know why, I’m usually not the type of person to forget I like things, or activities. But in this particular way, I am a bit silly, and then I’m reading Goblin Market to Jewlet and remember, “Hey, I actually dig this stuff.”

Anyway, I owe @miscanthusroots an extra and she asked if I would mind doing Louise Gluck’s collection of poetry, The Wild Iris, and even agreed to send me a copy to use when I had difficulty finding a copy that wasn’t too spendy.

I don’t have to tell you The Wild Iris is good, because it won a goddamn Pulitzer, and if something wins the Pulitzer the very least you can do is sit up and listen, but technical merit does not necessarily make something beautiful on a personal or individual level. So I wasn’t sure how I was going to experience the book. I’ve read Gluck’s work before but not necessarily a great amount of it, and, so far as I recall, not an entire book of her work.

Anyway, I suppose I’m dancing around the fact that it’s in some ways extremely difficult to talk about a book of poetry. Do you take apart each poem individually? I don’t have the time to do that, for this four hour chunk of writing about it, and so the best I think I can do is offer up my thoughts on the collection on the whole. I should say, that I am not a specialist in poetry at all, and though I had to study it to some small degree in college, I certainly don’t have the breadth of knowledge that someone who is very involved in poetics would.

There’s a thread in the collection of the natural world and prayer, the natural and the divine, and I think to some extent, the idea of God as gardener, but also us as gardeners of the world ourselves, planting and creating like small gods, but ALSO God as the garden himself. I had to read this collection like four times before I really came around to this idea, and came to very much like it.. The Matins and Vespers poems are (obviously) us talking to God, and I think the not-flower poems are God talking back to us.

Honestly, if you read the collection in the way one would read a novel, a conversation comes out of it easily--the first time I read it I wasn’t paying attention to this, I was reading them a bit scattershot, all taken as individual poems--but it’s this tangle between us and God, and the complication of our relationship with each other.

In the poem Retreating Wind:

I gave you every gift,

Blue of the spring morning,

Time you didn’t know how to use--

You wanted more, the one gift

Reserved for another creation

One of many poems titled Matins:

...You want to see my hands?

As empty now as at the first note.

Or was the point always

To continue without a sign?

Field Flowers:

….Your poor

Idea of heaven: absence

Of change. Better than earth? How

Would you know, who are neither

Here nor there, standing in our midst?

Now it was the flower poems themselves that gave me pause, the idea of the natural world, acted on by both God and man, commenting on the nature of life and death and the relationship between God and man, they read at turns deeply critical of man’s striving for immortality, of the human way of defining weeds and flowers , and how they can never truly understand what it is to live and die and live again,

So I had to go find out if Louise Gluck was Jewish, based on the impressions I got from her writing about God, sure, but what actually made me think about it was the way “God” in the poems speaks about us--there are plenty of Christians that struggle with God, but there’s a very certain way of looking at God as desiring us to overcome him and become him that I really only ever see in Jewish writings and stories. When I first thought this, I immediately then thought, “Nah, couldn’t be, she’s used Matins and Vespers throughout the book” but then I considered that I have been known to use Cathlic imagery myself simply because so many more people are familiar with it. Far and few are the goyim who recognize shacharit and maariv as anything at all. Anyway she is! On a personal level, I dunno, but we can’t get away from the viewpoints we’re raised with in many ways, and I was delighted to find out I was correct. Retreating Light is I think the best and clearest example of what I’m talking about.

You will never know how deeply

It pleases me to see you sitting there

Like independent beings,

To see you dreaming by the open window,

Holding the pencils I gave you

Until the summer morning disappears into writing

Creation has brought you

Great excitement, as I knew it would

As it does in the beginning

And I am free to do as I please now,

To attend to other things, in confidence,

You have no need of me anymore

How many things are said in that line, “In the beginning?” This idea that God loved the creation of us, and watching us, but also, has tired of us, has tired of our questions and needs, and that it has become the work of the day to day, but in the beginning, it’s so exciting. WE crave novelty, and maybe God does too, and perhaps that’s the way we were created in his image, that God longs for us, this children to grow and become better. It reminds me of the story (which I recently told on my chat) of the Oven of Acknai, where the conclusion of the story is God saying, “My children have defeated me, my children have defeated me” and smiling. That we, too, are creation.

I’m getting close to running out of time here, and it’s frustrating because I could say so much about this, but getting back into the idea of this reading as a novel, it’s also very cyclical. It begins with birth, as a flower, and ends with death, as a flower. And it’s really in this bit, in the bits near the end where I find the most emotional impact. Some of the ideas and imagery she’s using here aren’t exactly new but maybe it’s in knowing them that gives them that emotional resonance, for me. The line

In what contempt do you hold us

To believe only loss can impress

Your power on us

I mean, how many times have we felt that, at least, those of us who are still talking to God, where it feels as if God can only speak in loss and in taking? Even when you can see the evidence of other gifts, it can feel that way so deeply, and I tink that’s the gift of Gluck’s work here, is that the poems see things both from the side of God and the side of man, the way that all love is a struggle and this love most of all.

ANd these lines on the nature of death, like this one from Lullaby that just floored me:

Time to rest now; you have had

Enough excitement for the time being

I wish I could explain why things like that, put so simply, affect me so often, much more than anything overwrought. Maybe I’m just getting old, but just that idea of, “It’s time to rest now” just SLAYs me, well done, and the whole poem is great in that way but I’m not going to quote the whole poem at you.

Also this idea contained in the poem The Silver Lily

After the first cries

Doesn’t joy, like fear, make no sound?

I am rapidly out of time, but basically this poetry collection contains, especially in the back half, so much of what I love about the idea of struggling with life and death and God. Poetry can, at its best, have the gift of putting these complex feelings and ides into so few words, and there are brilliant moments in The Wild Iris where I feel like that happens for me, were a line sparks an idea, a feeling in my mind, lighting it like a match. I love when something can do that for me.

I need to remember how much I like poetry when I’m looking for books to read.

Oh also, before I go I have to point out this line that made me crackle because YES

Sometimes a man or woman forces his despair

on another person, which is called

Baring the heart, alternatively, baring the soul--

#thank you for giving me a chance to do something I don't do often!

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princelestatdelioncourt · 3 years

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The plastic square utensil vibrated in my pocket. It was my agent.

“Lestat, This is your agent Laurent. I would need your signature in able for me to finish the transfer to be completed. Would be possible for you to come to our location?” His voice was a little shaky. Why he was trembling? I didn’t like these calls so much and he knew that.

“You can sign these for me, I gave you the authorization.” I simply replied

He then gave a long list to what would happened if it was not me signing it, so I finally agreed. Not that I wanted to go to have this meetings but that transfer needed to be done.

“You know my schedule. I will meet you there in 1 hour” I replied

“Yes, absolutely, I will be there Sir” he said and seemed like he was already rushing.

“Alright, I will see you then” I hang up

Obviously it will only take me five minutes to get there. Flying. Wondering if I could follow him, Just for fun. So I did. I went straight to where he was. Saw him driving with his car on high speed. I jumped from building to building, I could listen to his heart racing and his eyes back and forth checking the electronic clock on the car dashboard. He was late and I could not but smirk thinking about the way he was feeling becasue he thinks I would be disappointed. I was one of the big customer he had, so he always treated me like so. Very important, always attentive and a secret I knew, he liked me. But all that, tonight, was a game for me. I didn’t care on if I was the biggest customer he had or if he was late. I had all night and I thought this was simply fun.

I landed on a dark alley next to the building and walked towards the main door and awaited for him, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. Sunglasses over my eyes. Staring at him with no expression on my face. Just staring. He saw me and he rushed even more. How much I wanted to smirk, to hold him by his arms and to tell him I knew and I liked him as well but I held it. I just stared at him with my arms crossed.

“Sorry I am later…traffic…here…lets go it, it only will take a minute” he was rushing to open the door and hold it for me.

All was extremely fun but I continued with my cold appearance. I walked into the massive lobby, marveled floors, so shiny one can see itself reflected on it, huge columns of shiny marble. The elevators at the very end of this giant hall. We could only listen our footsteps and me, as vampire, I could hear his heart and see these small drops of sweat on his forehead and face.

I walked beside him and he pushed the button to the elevator. So ridiculous I was doing all this but again I found it extremely entertaining.

The mirrored square box arrived. I looked at mysef on these clean mirrors when the doors closed. I looked at my wavy hair almost white under the fluorescent light, my dark sunglasses, my pale skin on my cheek and hands but nothing extremely white he could suspect anything. My blue wool coat, black pants and shiny boots. Not bad, Not bad at all. Still looking like a dandy Lestat. And my dear agent beside me. No words came from him but I saw him looking at me a couple times, immediately getting his eyes off me when he thought I was looking at him. I could read his mind so easily, he was so impatient to get to the office and get it all done and nervous I was there. Once again, I felt to let it go and laugh and even have a little drink with him but I didn't move.

Finally we have arrived to the 23rd floor. He held the door for me and I gave him a small node to thank him for that and walked pass him. He walked fast in front of me, so he could get ready his keys and open the door for me. My eyes followed him, his hand trembling. Dear God, I was that scary looking? And poor Laurent , if he knew what I really am, he would just run not desiring to look back at me again. That finally made me smile but I doubt he noticed that slight move on my lips. Too small for a mortal to see.

I walked into the dark office hall. So elegant yet cold at the same time. All in greys and blacks. Dark carpet, dark walls but the lights made it all so perfect combined. He told me to follow him to his office and so I did and gestured me to sit down on that modern cold, ugly black leather chair with steel frame.

I looked at his desk. Papers here and there and a pile of magazines and he finally found the paper I needed to sign. Ah finally! Let’s get it done so I can get out of there. He pointed me where I needed to sign, not even daring to look at the paperwork. I trusted him enough to sign without reading what I am signing and as soon as I left the pen on the desk. He told me he was going to make some copies so I could keep one and he could keep the original. But something distracted me. Something I saw on his desk. Something that made me feel a dead cold chill down my spine.

I could not but stare at that image and that name. Over and over like if I was hypnotized, shocked, lost, everything in that room dissipated but that name. Alessandro Visconti. Don’t ask me what or why I felt like that. But I did. That name. I just stared at it holding the paper in my hands. Seated on that uncomfortable chair and my eyes just fixed at that signature.

I’ve heard Lauren coming closer and talking to me, saying the copy was made and giving it to me but I really did not care. I continued staring at that signature.

“What is this?” I asked him so cold, direct and with deep voice. Still with my eyes on that signature. He looked down at what I was looking at.

“Oh! It is one of our customers Sir. A music producer. Very good customer of ours as well Sir” he replied standing on the other side of his desk. The word “music” send me more chills down the spine but I continued so like paralyzed looking at that signature “Have you never heard of him Sir?” he asked me with his most amicable voice “He is very talented producer and composer.” I felt I needed to leave that place. I needed to feel the air. I needed to go. I was getting upset. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the name, the meaning, the familiar words, the signature. I looked up at my dear fellow agent eyes and I stood up still holding that paper in my hands. He opened his drawer and grabbed a CD.

“Here, his latest album. I am sure you would enjoy it Sir. Give it a listen. You can keep that copy. He always brings me one when he is in town” I stared at Laurent, feeling like I could start with thousand questions about this music producer, and I did not dare to look into Laurent's mind to find any images of this musician. I did not. I would not. No, thousand times no.

I grabbed the CD and I put it in my inside pocket. Surprisingly big enough it fit. I needed to go, I needed to go out. I could not bear to stay in that room anymore and now my mind could not stop thinking on this.

I thanked Lauren for his services and I left. I walked towards the stairs that lead to the roof top. The hell no, I would not take the artificial mirrored box to lift me up or down when I could just fly anywhere I wanted.

I reached the top floor and I unlocked the door with the mind gift. Finally the black sky, the stars, the air, crisp. The night surrounding me. I walked slowly on that roof top, just listening to the city down below me, cars, people, minds… but I could not stop thinking of that name.

I went to the edge of that tall building and I stood there and looked down. People walking on the side walk, cars, street lights changing colors, the shops still open. All alive, the Savage Garden alive and unaware that a monster was looking at them from this tall glass building. And suddenly, I lifted and I went up and up to the stars.

I flew for a long time, with no direction and when I ended up bored of that, I just went home. I was glad no one, no other immortals where around because I did not want to talk to anyone. I needed to be alone. The balcony to my chamber was open, as always, my easy way to get in and out. So I landed there and went in.

The room was warm due to the fireplace. I walked towards my bed and laid there looking at the damask ceiling. The golds and reds. And I remembered again about the name and the CD I was still keeping inside my jacket. I took it off and I looked at it. The cover had man hands on dark background, what it seemed to be wearing damask clothes or rich reds and blacks colors on a thick jacket and a silver ring. A ring that looked like claw engraved with fine lines. So very similar to one I owned 200 years ago and long lost during these nights where I almost perished in hands of my beloved vampire child Claudia. I opened the plastic lid and looked at the shiny CD, seeing my reflection on it but my eyes caught his name again.

After a few moments just looking at the insert picture, I finally stood and went to the shelves where I had a modern audio system. I inserted the CD. The music suddenly started. Classical yet contemporary. One perfectly could hear every instrument on that song. So clear, so perfect. I laid down again and closed my eyes, my hands behind my nape. One song after another I listened with a blank mind. But one song awoke me. It was just a violin. I opened my eyes abruptly.

God knows how many times I have listened someone to play a violin, how many concerts I have assisted but this song, This violin. This…was not what I have usually listened to before but just once. Once so many years ago. Once from someone I have trusted and loved. Once…long long ago. My mind was racing on thoughts and images. I was insane? How could I even think of that? It was a door closed even I still had it all present in my mind. How could I ever think of a possibility? No, can not, No is not. Lestat are you insane?!. Yet a small part of me was torn, hurt, sad, and mad remembering it all.

I grabbed my jacket and I left the room, flying again. I left with the song playing and even I was far away I could still hear it. I felt the cold air on my face and that helped me to feel sane and think clear. But I could not stop now with questions.

Why? Who is this musician? How it’s possible?.....where are you? I asked with no sounds just for me flying around until the sun was almost out.

Returning to my chambers, the music thankfully was done. I could not bare listen to it again. I closed the double thick velvet curtains. And I laid on my bed under the covers. Enough of this, dreams take me to where I can’t think if this anymore. Bring me to a safe place.... and so I felt how the sun was out and my body was more and more limp until there was no more thinking but dreaming...

@monsieur-nicolas-de-lenfent //You have inspired me once again and I wrote this. Could be an epic re encounter or could be just left as it is. Thank you always for inspiring me.

#lestat de lioncourt #nicolas de lenfent

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fuckthe10essays · 3 years

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Othello dramatizes the hidden conflicts in human life

For all of the major themes in Othello, jealousy, revenge, lack of communication, Othello also shows its hand at bringing out the inner intricacies and conflicts of human life. On the surface level Othello can seem to be a play of only a deranged husband going to crazy town with Iago driving and killing his wife. But a deeper look can show that Othello deals with friendship, manipulation, lack of trust, infidelity, racism and the need to keep up appearances among others. In this essay I will go into detail on these qualities and the dept that Othello as a play achieves.

It’s not hidden in human life precisely, but marriage problems plague this play left right and centre. Othello and Desdemona’s relationship is a rocky one to say the least but an entire lack of communication certainly does not help that. Othello lets Iago fill his head with lies about Desdemona and Cassio rather than asking her straight out is she having an affair, and when he does choose to ask it’s all too late as Othello is already convinced by the handkerchief of their affair. ‘Swear thou art honest.’ Desdemona is of course not having an affair with Cassio she’s all too in love with Othello, but his lack of ability to talk to his wife ends up with four people dead Othello himself included. Othello kills Desdemona in a rage befit of a man been cheated on, except he wasn’t. His lack of communication kills Desdemona, Emilia and eventually himself. This shows how letting the little things build up can result in them blowing up in everyone’s faces. If Othello had only managed to have a conversation with his wife, instead of listening to revenge bent Iago, so many lives could have been saved and disaster could have been avoided.

As a master of manipulation Iago does not choose to limit himself to the mind of Othello but also to the mind, and pockets, of Rodrigo. Rodrigo is desperate for a relationship with Desdemona and Iago readily uses this for his own gain. Iago uses something as simple and universal as a crush to fund his schemes to bring about Othello’s downfall. Iago tells Rodrigo to bring his money with him to Cyprus ‘Put money in thy purse, follow these wars.’ and subsequently bankrupts him all the while ignoring Rodrigo’s pleas to stop. Iago uses his ‘friendship’ for his plot for revenge and uses Rodrigo once again in the plot to kill Cassio. Iago has no qualms about letting Rodrigo get indicted for Cassio’s attempted murder or for bleeding him dry. Rodrigo is too blind to see how little Iago really cares for him. It’s the disturbing use of friendship and the blasé attitude towards manipulation that shows the dept of depravity in Iago and just how far emotions like jealousy and a need for revenge can take you.

A hidden conflict that we all deal with but seldom speak about is our gullibility and just how easy it is for us to fall for false rumours and speculation. If Othello had half a mind more to ask questions so much tragedy could have been avoided, but alas we need plot points. A fine example of this is the handkerchief debacle involving Cassio. Othello is on the verge of believing in Cassio and Desdemona’s affair and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Iago has been watering the seed of doubt in Othello’s mind of their affair and when Bianca came in brandishing the handkerchief it finally convinced Othello of Desdemona’s extramarital affair. Othello took this at face value paired with the fact that Iago said that he had seen it at Cassio’s lodgings ‘But such a handkerchief I am sure it was your wife’s did I today see Cassio wipe his beard with.’ just solidifies the belief in Othello’s mind that Desdemona is unfaithful. Othello accepts this as proof of Desdemona’s wrongdoing. This conflict leads to the eventual deaths of Desdemona and Othello, plus Emilia and Rodrigo. If Othello had been more willing to question things and not accept things on the spot, if he was more considerate of his wife and really wondered would she do such a thing, maybe the tragic ending could have been avoided.

Not only is jealousy a hidden conflict in human life but it also a major theme in this play. This can be especially seen in Iago as a character. Jealousy is one of the main motives that drove him to do what he did. Iago is convinced of the rumour that Othello has slept with his wife Emilia ‘And it is thought abroad that twixt my sheets he has done my office.’ and he desires Cassio’s job after Othello passed him up for a promotion. These two things are reasons enough for him to set about planning and executing the downfall of Othello and Cassio and not caring about who gets hurt along the way. This jealousy of Cassio led to Iago framing him for a riot and then organizing an attempt on his life. This conflict that Iago has created because of his incessant need for revenge leads to many losses of life and irreversible damage on his part. Iago allowed his jealousy to overtake him and it made him the villain of the story. He is a cautionary tale to us all to never allow such violent and destructive feelings to rule us.

A tale as old as time, peer pressure to drink, shows up in Othello as a warning of what happens if you allow people to make you go against your own better judgement. Cassio is well aware of his limits and knows that he cannot hold much alcohol before becoming extremely drunk. ‘I’ll do it, but it dislikes me.’ but yet he accepts Iago’s offer of wine. He drinks continuously and becomes very drunk, drunk enough to fight Rodrigo. ‘I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.’ This incites a riot which Iago blames on Cassio, even though Iago knew of Cassio being a lightweight and he was the one who offered him alcohol. When Othello ends the riot, he asks Iago who began it. Iago indicts Cassio and Othello then takes away his job. It is these set of events that puts on course Iago’s schemes to enact revenge on Othello. With Cassio mourning his reputation he goes to Desdemona for help which only serves Iago’s needs in insinuating an affair between them. Had Cassio refused Iago’s initial offer so much could have been averted. But the human condition of wanting to fit in and be like everyone else can sometimes take hold of us and the results can end up being disastrous.

A desire for his good reputation back again is a driving conflict and force for Cassio. His need to get back into Othello’s good books sends him to ask Desdemona to vouch for him. He is unaware that Iago has planned this to look like Desdemona and Cassio are sleeping together and Desdemona does what he asks. To Othello this is just another piece of proof of their ‘affair’. This nagging for Cassio on Desdemona’s part ends up with her dead by Othello’s hands and Cassio nearly dies as well. But another thing stands out as to Cassio and his desire for a good reputation. Cassio and Bianca, a prostitute, are sleeping together. Bianca very obviously likes Cassio and is very jealous when Cassio gives her a handkerchief from another woman to be copied ‘This is some minx’s token.’ but when asked if Cassio would ever marry her, he just laughs it off like the prospect is impossible. The very idea of him lowering himself to marry a woman he likes is impossible because he has a reputation to uphold and Binca certainly does not fit that image. Between his desire for his job back and his scorning of Bianca, Cassio cares so much for his reputation that he is unable to see what is going on around him and just how dangerous it is for him to be asking Desdemona to vouch for him. Or maybe he doesn’t care, and his reputation matters so much to him that the prospect of Desdemona getting hurt means nothing as long as he appears reputable.

In conclusion Othello dramatizes many things and the inner conflicts of the human condition is most definitely one of them. Jealousy, miscommunication, peer pressure, these are all things we have to deal with, and Othello sort immortalizes them. If these characters from 15th century Venice can feel like they have to drink to fit in then it’s no wonder that we can. It’s a reminder that there has always been someone in your position before and if they can make it, why can’t you?

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someone-always-cares · 4 years

Photo

[image description: a q&a for the webcomic someone always cares. full desc under the cut because its long and wordy sorry]

post chapter 3 Q&A

first - previous - next

thanks for yalls questions!! it was fun to answer! if anyone still has questions feel free to ask whenever i am always 100% down to ramble. even if i did go slightly off topic in some answers

additional: went off topic with the hair question a bit. their bright hair is all part of the transformations. regular hair dye does exist though. best way to tell is that if the eyebrow matches the hair its probably not dyed. also, quartz’s hair is naturally ginger.

also for more on ages, check out the character bios here

also was gonna keep this in the tags but thought i might as well actually try to answer it: the question i found it hardest to answer was someone the song one. my taste in music is. a mess really. ive been listening to like the same 5 songs on repeat all day. more under the cut because i was rambling again and now its uhhh half 1am

if it helps at the time of answering that specific question i had home by cavetown on repeat, and that song reminds me of both rami and lewis. but that may be because i project onto those two a lot, and as a aro trans dude. who sucks with people skills, yeah of course i love that song.

specifically the vibes of like not knowing how to communicate (rami is fine with his friends but other people are different), the lines “ Turn off your porcelain face, I can't really think right now and this place, Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane” idk what the porcelain face line is supposed to mean but im picturing it as like. a mask. that you need to take off and stop hiding and rami does tend to hide when hes feeling upset, and the next two lines kinda could tie into that, like the feeling of when youre overwhelemed and just want the world to stop so you just hide somewhere. also the colours could go with chapter 3 with the chromatic abberation.

also the bit with “ my eyes went dark, I don't know where, my pupils are, But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here” just kinda sums up ramis whole hero thing with his powers and all. anyway this has turned into less what songs rami would like and why this particular song reminds me of him and lewis (lewis specifically has the hair cutting/chest hiding, [big transmasc mood], and also messy haired trainwreck who doesnt know who he is yet. also the ghosts bit)

i did end up picking upbeat songs because ramis a dude who like to try and be upbeat even if things arent. even if hes not really feeling it he will pretend to.

[full description: Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: “hi ily!!! do characters like quartz who have colored hair have that naturally or did they dye it?”

“its both natural and not! while most supers can do a magical girl ish transformation, including a change in hair colour, there are some exceptions.”

theres two small full body drawings of rami, one in civilian clothes, one fully transformed.

“if a superhero were to have a biological child, the child will inherit the powers of the parent(s). however, the child will not inherit the full transfromation. they do inherit any physical transformations, but not the outfit.”

theres a drawing of a woman in blue, quartz’s mother, fully transformed, holding her mask in her hand, smiling down at a much younger quartz as a child. hes smiling back up at her with the same blue eyes, pointy ears, and blue hair, but hes still in normal clothes.

“in the case of quartz, both of hisparents had superpowers, and he inherited those powers and the physical transformations.he can also pick and mix whatphysical traits to change.“

next is a headshot of adult quartz, his face split down the middle with one side having hair and eye like his mother, the other like his father. theres a list of traits from each parents, blue hair and eyes and pointy ears from his mum, and purple hair and eyes and pointy teeth from their dad.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: Are all the characters the same age? If not, how old are they? Are they irl friends or just superhero friends?”

theres some headshots of rami and his team lined up with ages labelled: cam is 15, rami himself is 17, lin, mateo, and dante, are all 18, and cap is 20.

“rami and xandra were somewhat friends before she got superpowers, so when, after the incident with her old team, she found rami had developed powers, xandra stuck close to him. their other teamates started off as superhero friends but soon turned into irl friends too”

theres a headshot of lewis and jade. theyre both 17

“when lewis first decided to start being a vigilante,jade quickly found him and decided to help train himand offered to be a mentor of sorts, as they both have similar powers. that quickly derailed.”

“ cinder5555 said to someone-always-cares: How long does it usually take to make a comic page? I'm curious because they're so freaking good that they must take FOREVER”

theres a drawing of myself, a fluffy hair tired bastard in a hoodie, smiling

“Thanks! Ive been doing this shit since like 2017 and i still have no idea how long it takes me. i can get a page done in a day if i have nothing else to do or if its a simple page, but if i have work then maybe 2-3 days? i spend like, most of my free time doing this.“

another drawing of me, now looking frustrated muttering “how the FUCK does time work”

“but i can never do it all on one sitting.i will inevitably get distracted and zone out daydreaming mid drawing so its very hard to get an accurate read on how long it takes. so however long a piece of string is i guess“

the only qustion not from tumblr is a discord message from RuneStone Cabin:

“Q: Can you talk about the incidence of superpowers in this world? Like many people are supers, which powers are more or less common, how long they've been a thing for, stuff like that. Also does Omen know I'd die for them “

theres a drawing of omen pointing at a date circled on a calender marked “decembuary”, theyre saying “i know. i already wrote your death in my calender.”

then a giant wall of text reading: “Supers have only existed for a relativly short time, since the early 1940s. momento mori was the second person to have ever gained powers.

Only a small number of the population are supers! the chances are higher in more populated cities, but unusally london has oneof the higher percentages of supers. while nobody in universe has any idea of the origins of superpowers, it does seem that powers are more likely to occur in people who would actually use their powers.

as for what powers are most common, after making a badly catagorized spreadsheet of every superpowered character ive made for this world (70% of which will probably never even be seen), turns out that elemental powers are the most common. although not all elemental powers manifest as the straight up 'controling this element' as seen in characters like lin or tsunami. for example, iris's powers would fall under shadow elemntal powers, but theyre a lot more weird that just controlling shadows.there are some abilities that have never been seen before,such as ressurection or full on time travel (aka anything that could bring a character back to life), but powers are certainly allowed to toe the line eg healing, powers involving undeath, immortality, pausing or manipulating time.

aside from that, anything goes. you could get plain old superstrength, but you could also get the ability to create dogs with your mind. other not quite rules, more guidelines are that supers are immune to their own powers hurting them (unless they were pushing themselves too hard), although the way the imminuties occur may be inconvinient to the super.

while some powers may be 'more powerful' than others, powers dont really get to be way underpowered or overpowered in comparision to others. sure being able to talk to animals may feel a bit useless compared to someone who can lift 4 tanks at once, but nobodys going to end up with a power like 'can turn into a goose but only once' or 'can grow toenails twice as fast' or 'if i sneeze i can change my hair colour'. at the same time, youre not going to get someone with the power to snap their fingers and level a city, or instantly blow up the moon or whatever.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: I love rami PLEASE tell me his favorite song(s) and why. I will die for you”

a drawing of rami saying out loud “i dont really have any specific favourite song, really? i just listen to whatever sounds catchy and then listen to that on repeat for hours until i hate it. i guess i do like upbeat songs? ones that make you feel happy even if the lyrics are sad”

“ un1c0rnhh said to someone-always-cares: tell me,,, please,, cam,,, are they a cat person or a dog person?? ily"

theres a drawing of cam a metre away from a cat lying down. she has her arm out and is making ‘psspsspss’ noises at it. end id]

FUCK i am so glad i didnt hand write all of that, it would have been a major pain in the ass to write it all and then have to transcribe all that next. but nope i could directly copy paste the asks and word answers. cheers if anyone made it this far down. if anyone wonders why this is uploaded late, you know now.

#sac #someone always cares #sorry to my friends i rambled to about the previosly mentioned attempt at catagorizing powers #i made a fucking spreadsheet and everything #it was awful #also it probably obvious but i still have yet to download the font i use to this computer #did i ever mention what i named the font when i made it #because its called 'dicks out for the void' or something #it was funny back in mid/late 2017 ok

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theswiftarmy · 4 years

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#19 - 6000 Headphones, 12 Mobile Phones, SOO Many Shoes, And An Earworm Inside The Biebs’ Head

What better way to fight a war than with love? And what better way to rule the world than with love? Because how do you fight back against love? How do you? What’s that lawn sign? Love trumps hate—Or, what did Taylor say? Hater’s gonna hate (hate x3), is my math right on that? How many times does Taylor say the word hate in Shake It Off? Or, if you live in the south, Gators gonna gait…. Get it? Because there are gators always walking around in the south and the word gait is another word for how a person walks, although, I don’t know if it can be applied to an alligator walking around because I’m pretty sure they crawl instead of walk. Although, perhaps one might describe alligators as slithering around like snakes, then again, if you ask a snake, they’ll be like… WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Alligators don’t slither, don’t even try to steal my mode of mobility, they saunter, and maybe alligators do saunter about. But, let’s just pretend alligators gait, because it rhymes with haters gonna hate. There’s a lot of pretending going on in this story. Just remember that, play pretend and you’ll follow along just fine.

Stay with me here for a quick second and a hot minute before I get back to the story—suppose that this Elvis sound were real, obviously it’s not because it’s just a story and not real, remember we’re just playing pretend, unless… it IS real and I’m coincidentally writing fiction about something that DOES happens to be real, I just don’t happen to know that it is real, I suppose there’s always that highly unlikely scenario—but just for a moment, let your imagination run wild and really think about it. Back in the day when Rock and Roll first came into existence it changed the world, or so I’ve been told, it changed everyone who encountered it, again, not from personal experience, just what I’ve been told, the groove made you move, brought people together in a new and different way. It’s hard to know what that experience was like if you didn’t live through it, especially since it’s all part of our society and history nowadays. But, there was a time before it existed when no one even knew something like it could exist, and then ears at the time were infected with infectious melodies that they couldn’t get enough of, they hungered for more of this new and incredible musical genre, of course it wouldn’t be the last time a new genre was created and ears hungered for more.

But an interesting side effect of it all was that it created cultural icons, as the new genres continue to do. It created idols, you know, like those with the first name of Billy, it created nice days for white weddings, and to start again. And of course, these days there’s a new Billie in idol town, but I’ll get to why I bring her up later on.

Early rock stars and pop icons became immortalized, living on long after death, they’re gods and goddesses, a new era of decorated war heros or royals, as Lorde so eloquently put it, the weapon of choice a microphone or a guitar, or maybe both, or sometimes a keyboard, or a plethora of other instruments, insert instrument of choice here, maybe even a ukulele! Mostly, though, early on the rock and roll army was a guitarmy.

These rock gods and goddesses all image and no human being, especially true of those who are no longer with us, the human being may be gone, but the image lives on, and we still look up to those who can sing and dance and gel their hair back in slick new ways. Fantastic fashion abound, and the preferred weapons around, like I said, musical instruments, maybe some guitars, and guitar solos the ammunition. Some would argue, not me, but some would say that’s what has gone wrong in our modern society, we mourn the loss of great guitar solos from these songs at the top of the charts.

Could one correlate a graph with a rise in violence directly inversely correlated with solos in rock music? Maybe. But anyone can correlate anything if you tried hard enough, which is the point here, like fictionally connecting modern day Billy Porter in Taylor Swift’s music video for You Need To Calm Down, to back in the day Bill Porter, the sound engineer with the golden ear that recorded with Elvis in The Sixties. But it does seem as though the guitar solo has been quietly replaced, those wailing solos instead becoming a bank of samples on which most music is now based. Samples upon samples spliced in and layered over top of loops and mashed together with other samples and loops, but where did the samples originate? So many musicians use samples in music without knowing anything about their origin. It’s the wild west of sampling. Anything that sounds good can be put in a beat or a hook. And of course top it off with “The Drop”. Ah yes, The Drop—the silence before a storm of melody, and perhaps that silence is what does it, what makes you anticipate the hook, what makes you addicted to the noise. It sucks you in, and holds your ears hostage, note after note after note. Making it so hard to turn the song off, we simply can’t get enough of the stuff.

Suppose the sound were real though, go all in with suspension of disbelief, and samples upon samples of it were layered into songs you listen to, some of your favorite songs of all time, the ones you can’t get enough of and press repeat again, and again, exposing your ears over and over to the sound… Changing your brainwaves and playing with your mind and emotions… each new track artists put out an even more potent version to pull fans in, the only choice the fans have is to follow, unable to break away from the influence of our favorite icons and idols as we hang on their every word. I mean, is it so absurd? We continue to break streaming records, sell out stadiums, and fans are willing to fight for the right for their favorite artist to part ways with a record label, if you were an artist or a band, and in the market for fans, wouldn’t you sign up for it too? What’s the harm in a little bit of sugar and spice to make everything already nice… Well, even more so, maybe twice or thrice that spice?

And is it really all that hard to believe? How many times have you pushed the back button on a song and listened to it again, a third time, a fifth time in a row? How many times have you done something you wouldn’t normally have done because of a song? How many times have you turned yourself around because a song changed your mood or mind, or your heart, asked someone to dance, or texted someone you probably wouldn’t have texted because of a tune you heard playing out on the town, or while shopping, or a song playing in a movie or TV show—how many times was just hearing the slightest snippet of a certain song taken as a sign and changed the course of your entire life? I’m willing to bet more than a few of you out there just raised your hand.

Oak Felder finished making another point, “…but all that is lost to history and now pop stars are using it to control their fans.”

“Lure them in with love.” Ariana said smiling. “I mean, it works!”

“This is like, really blowing my mind right now.” Scooter said. “This just keeps getting even crazier! It’s like, be careful what music you listen to because you have no idea what might happen to your mind…”

Scott reminded Scooter. “And especially in Justin’s case, yeah—because his mind could be wiped if he hears the wrong song while he’s earwormed.”

Oak looked over at Pop, “Well, hold on to your seat, Scooter, because I found something else noteworthy! We took Ariana’s suggestion to Shazam the sound, and—though I didn’t exactly do that—while we were analyzing it last night I did extract the sonic footprint of it, and Pop here was able to cross reference the footprint against the Shazam database in its entirety.”

“Yeah?” Scooter responded, bracing for something extremely mind numbing.

“It seems as though Scott’s mystery Porter Pyramid noise, AKA ‘The Elvis Egg’ sound, may be in a lot more music than we thought. It seems to show up across the Shazam library as small bits and pieces, or as these small pieces of music are more commonly referred to as, samples.”

“Wait, you mean sampling?” Justin said, sitting again beside Ariana Grande but this time in a small but fun looking and colorfully designed IKEA-esk chair right beside the oversized beanbag chair, since Ariana had already called perpetual fivesies on the bean chair Justin had to find a new seat from the last time the group was in the studio. Fivesies, for those not in the loop mean you have a claim to your seat after getting up, but that claim lasts for no more and no less than five minutes. Although some people don’t always adhere to the rule, I won’t name names, but you know who you are. Was that ten years ago? Yes. Am I still bitter? That was my seat and you know it—Whatever, I’m allowed to be upset, how could anyone reading this possibly know what it’s like to have something that used to be yours suddenly in the possession of someone else. It was mine, and then all of a sudden someone else is sitting on it, and wouldn’t let me have what was rightfully mine—even after I called fivesies! It’s frustrating when someone takes something that was yours. I mean, Taylor gets it, she called Fivesies on her back catalog of recordings and someone else, I won’t name names, totally took it from her. Sorry, I digress, I’ll get back to the story—I’m in one of those writer’s moods, if you couldn’t tell.

Oak responded very matter-of-factly. “That’s right Justin, sampling. You know it as beats, grooves, drum breaks, horn sounds, and guitar riffs, just to name a few examples. Most listeners have no idea that the original source of the sounds isn’t a direct recording, but a mashed up copy of a copy of a copy, sometimes many times over.”

“So, does that mean there are bad samples in music?” Ariana said swooping in and stealing the response directed at Justin—maybe you should have called fivesies on the convo, Justin.

Scooter scooted into the conversation too, taking some response time as well, being that it was there for the taking, like how Taylor’s masters were, so why not? Why buy a vowel when you can buy an entire sentence in the form of a question, “What, like, you’re telling me that music is infected? How? Is it all music?”

That was three questions Scooter; you were only supposed to have asked one, you only bought one question, not three.

“No, not all music. Just certain samples—“ Pop Wansel replied very Goldblum-y. It was his turn to be Jeff. Everyone gets to be Jeff Goldblum at least once and you can’t call fivesies on being Jeff Goldblum, only Jeff himself can do that.

Oak leaned forward in his Spaceship command chair. “What’s the most sampled song of all time? Does anyone know?”

“Umm…” They all unknowingly blinked their eyes in the same cadence of the Capitol Records light and shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, Justin’s cats moved their tails back and forth as they sat sleepily on the laps of two humans in the room, I’m not at liberty to disclose which two laps the cats sat upon, but they sat on two laps. No fivesies were called, cats don’t need fivesies, they just sit wherever they please.

“No one knows the answer? Well, the year was 1969. A funk soul band named The Winstons released a single called ‘Color Him Father’. The B side of that record contained a funked up version of a gospel song named ‘Amen, Brother’. Now, of course, Color Him Father would win a Grammy for best R and B song after hitting number seven on the Billboard hot 100 charts, but the B side to that record? Well, no one really paid it much attention for years… Eventually it would become the most sampled drum break in all music, it’s called the ‘Amen Break’. It was first added to a compilation named Ultimate Breaks and Beats, which was popular with Hip Hop producers and DJs during the early days of Hip Hop. The breakthrough hit Straight Outta Compton by N.W.A. most likely propelled it into the mainstream, Straight Outta Compton contained a slowed down looped version of the Amen Break in its entirety, although it was used on other songs at the time as well. I believe the first track to sample it was I Desire by Salt-N-Pepa. Eventually it was broken apart, spliced up, and bits and piece of it were used in thousands of songs.”

“So, are you saying sampling is bad?” The lawyer asked, his red pen poised and ready to make a new note on his notepad.

“No. Oh, of course not. There are a lot of great songs that contain samples, but as with any tool, or invention, it’s in the way that you use it, like Eric Clapton says. Same is true with any sign, or symbol, or any product of a culture, or subculture, it’s the way you use it, or more importantly, what meaning becomes attached. Musically speaking, it’s about what hooks on to those catchy hooks. Brands are a whole other ballgame and a conversation for another time—Sometimes just by wearing a certain brand, or putting a sticker on the bumper of your car, you can say a lot about what you stand for, without using any words at all. Without going really deep into the meaning of life, for whatever reason we humans have a way of creating things that represent the good in the world, the bad in the world, and additionally, the indifferent—or one point of view over another—like I said, conversation for another time. But the meanings shift, something that had absolutely no real meaning can become a symbol of power, or a movement. A heart symbol could say love, but it could be a declaration of war depending on the context and who sends it to you. How many individuals took a knee before Colin Kaepernick did? Did the gesture of taking a knee change in its meaning after Colin did it? How about when Nike made a deal with Colin, how did that change the meaning of the Nike symbol? I’m going to let you think about the answers to those questions. Music, brands, gestures, bumper stickers are simply what they are, but in the context of society and culture in a specific place and time the meaning can be so much more. Music isn’t just music, it’s so much more. Every person will tell you his or her personal attachment to any song, and it can be a shared experience, or a singular one. I’m sure we can all think of a song that takes us back in time, and maybe it’s a memory you share with millions, or an experience only you know about. Humans have a tendency not to start out making anything to be a symbol of a moment, that usually happens later on, we make things, usually with the best of intentions, but sometimes just because it’s something that we are passionate about, what starts out as innocent, or cool, or just something to do, can become a beacon of hope, in the right hands, or a nightmare down the road should it fall into the wrong hands. The future of anything can’t be predicted. Rock and Roll had a start with a small group of musicians who probably didn’t even know it was Rock and Roll at the time, and that it would eventually spread through the entire world. The Amen Break started with one single drummer Gregory C. Coleman, and later would be used in thousands of songs.”

“And that’s causing this war with the Swifities? The war with Taylor?” An Arianator asked.

“We aren’t at war with Taylor…” Oak replied, his tone of voice turning very serious, “We’re at war with an unfortunate scenario. Taylor isn’t fighting a war because she wants to, she’s fighting it because she needs to. It’s not her fault, she’s a victim of circumstance... as so many other innocent people on this planet have been and continue to be.”

Scott grabbed his share of the conversation as well, “Trouble’s gonna follow where she goes…”

Oak took it back, “Trouble follows us all, we are all victims of circumstance. And we’re all fighting wars made of personal battles. Just some of us more than others.”

“She’s a victim of her own music holding her hostage, like how I’m a victim of this earworm in my head.” Justin said solemnly.

Ariana turned to Justin sitting beside her, “Since you don’t want to talk about what happened, I may be out of place by saying this, and I hate to have to say this Justin, but if you hadn’t broken up with Selena like twenty times, you might not have her earworm in your head right now.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Justin said back.

Ariana stifled a growl of frustration with her hands, turning her attention to Oak instead. “So we’re fighting to free Taylor from her old masters? Or specifically, from that egg sound—from samples used… We’re fighting for her, not against her?” Ariana asked for clarification. She reached for her phone in her pocket and gave it a squeeze. With the masters tracks back in Taylor’s hands, she now held the only recording of the easter egg track should they need it. She decided to keep its existence a secret. If they found out they may take it from her. For a minute she felt a rush of power wash over her, like some energy from the past or another dimension was trying to come to her and take over. The power pulsed through her for a brief moment, chills down her spine, before she was able to push back against whatever it was creating the rush inside her.

“As long as I still get to own her.” Scooter said, “I mean, own her old masters, sorry, that’s what I meant. A deal is a deal and I bought them fair and square.”

Everyone glowered at Scooter.

“What? I mean, after this is all over of course.”

Everyone continued to glower.

“Why am I the bad guy in this?”

Flower power was big in the 60s, but in these modern times glower power is where it is at.

“Okay FINE, once this is over I’ll work with her to figure out a way for her to buy back her masters, or something.”

Glower power for the win.

Scooter uncrossed his fingers from behind his back. You sly devil you.

“The Elvis egg sound isn’t good or bad in itself, just like The Amen Break isn’t good or bad, Rock and Roll and Hip Hop are music, but to paraphrase Clapton, it’s in the way that she’s using it. See the egg sound in itself makes you feel trippy; Which makes sense, it’s from the 60s. The Elvis egg sound is from the start of the decade, and the Amen Break is from the end of the decade. The egg sound makes you feel good. But, as we’ve come to learn, when it interacts with specific sound samples, such as The Amen Break—that’s when you get… Well, it seems you get side effects. But those side effects used in a specific manner, like what was done to Justin here, can be used as a weapon—” Oak told them as much as they needed to know. It’s a bit like when scientists first invented the atom bomb, too much knowledge about something with that much power can be dangerous. Musical genres have more power and are more influential than anyone could possibly fathom. “It’s a weapon of war.” He said plainly.

“That’s where the earworm came from. You combine specific samples together… and anything is possible. It can be used to push viral content, or addict and hook fans, or you can disarm your opponents, make them unable to fight back.” Pop clarified for the ears in the room. “When you combine new and old samples, things get really tricky. Take, umm… Old Town Road, for example, that song took off seemingly overnight, but why?”

“Well it obviously took off because of me when I shared it on social media for all my Beliebers.” Justin said. He tried to sing the song and do the dance… “Gonna take my love to the love love road to love love, I needed to lose you to love me… “ He stopped trying and sat there lost inside his head again.

“That’s not quite how it goes, but I’m fascinated by the mashup of music going on in your head. Does anyone else want to comment on the song, does anyone know the origin of the track used behind the vocals?” Oak asked.

“Didn’t he just find it online, Soundcloud, or YouTube or something, and then… Lay down his vocals over it?” One of the Arianators offered.

“No, I think he bought it from a beats site for 30 bucks. Wait, let me Google it. Okay, it says here ‘The hook was originally purchased for $30 on BeatStars, a rap-focused beats marketplace.’ That’s cool.” The other Arianator replied back.

Oak stepped in, his voice soothing and constructive, “Well, so the original sample in Old Town Road is actually a Nine Inch Nails song named 34 Ghosts IV. And it was placed over a trap beat and posted online for sale by a Dutch teenager Kiowa Roukema, who also goes by ‘Young Kio’. Now, when you consider the entire Old Town Road song together in final form you have various tracks recorded at various times and places using various microphones and instruments, and other recording equipment including effects processors and such. Each individual sound recording and sample was layered on top of one another, even the original sound sample from Nine Inch Nails had already been mastered, yet it was mastered again when it was posted for sale as a beat, and then mastered another time when Lil Nas X posted his version online, then the remix was mastered yet again. It’s like Scooter said, an omlette of eggs. If any piece of it contains the egg sound, you have a very complex variation of the original sounds that has been manipulated and mangled many times over with every sub master, the same has happened over the years with The Amen Break. For all we know the Amen Break could be in that song, as there isn’t a clear source of every sample used to make the trap beat. It’s a potent mix that when played into someone’s ear can have some very strange effects—”

“Love love… To love love… I needed to lose you to love me… Dammit Selena! Get out of my head!” Justin erupted cutting off the conversation. “It’s GETTING WORSE!” He shouted then kneeled down on the floor holding his head between his hands he hummed Selena Gomez’s song Lose You To Love Me, softly at first, then yelled out, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” He started to cry, just for a few tears, before wiping them away and sprawling out on the floor looking up at the ceiling fan. His tears of anguish continued, flowing from his eyes and running down his cheeks. “I give up.” He said quietly, his lower lip quivering. “I can’t stop hearing it. It’s just there on repeat—over and over again. I just give up. I want it to stop. Make it stop. I can’t take it anymore! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! SELINA GOMEZ MAKE IT STOP!!! I WANT OUT OF THIS! I DON’T WANT YOU IN MY HEAD ANYMORE!!!”

“Oak you gotta help him. Can’t you do anything?” Ariana begged rushing to Justin’s side.

Oak looked over at Pop. They nodded to one another. Justin couldn’t wait any longer.

Pop got up and walked over to a Star Wars movie poster on the wall. He turned around and held his hand out, Oak tossed the replica light saber at him, Pop caught it without flinching and then stood in front of the poster mimicking the stance of Skywalker.

The poster began to roll up revealing a door.

“No way!” Scooter gasped. “What the?”

Oak smiled. “Shall we?”

Ariana helped Justin up and walked with him. Her two Arianators rushed over to help carry him.

Everyone walked over to the doorway previously hidden behind the poster and one by one they walked through it.

The doorway led into a passageway that resembled the engine room of a spaceship—It was something out of every movie you’ve ever seen that takes place in space. Hidden LED lights glowed spreading a soft even light, a blue hue that matched a humming sound, the engines of the spaceship.

Oak Felder and Pop Wansel piloted the crew through the copious amount of twists and turns. Several times forks in the tunnel shot off to the left or right of them.

“How much money did it cost you to build this?” The lawyer asked at one point. Oak didn’t answer until they reached their final destination.

“I didn’t build it for me, it was initially my wife’s extended shoe closet for shoe’s she refused to throw out, even though she knew she would never wear them again.”

Scooter laughed. “My wife would be jealous, her shoe collection is taking over the house! I used to think ‘why would you keep shoes if you’re never going to wear them again?’ Ah, I was so young and naive. I know better now. But why? Why so many shoes!”

Ariana responded “It’s just a thing. It’s like keeping photos, memories of the past. Also, you never know, there MIGHT be an occasion when you need that EXACT shoe! And then if you had previously owned that pair and thrown them out you’d be kicking yourself. Also, if you can afford that many shoes, why not spoil yourself? Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em, they say, ‘Which one?’ I say, ‘Nah, I want all of 'em’, happiness is the same price as red-bottoms.”

Oak stopped the group at a large door. The door glowed amber around the edges outlining its silhouette. He pulled out a key. He inserted the key and turned the key clockwise. While still holding the key in its turned position he pressed a large button, the first few seconds of a song began to play then it stopped. He named the artist and the song. Another song played, then stopped, again he named the artist and the song speaking out loud towards the door. This continued for three more songs, after which a sixth and final song played for a little longer than the first five. It played long enough for a few song lyrics to be heard before stopping, he continued singing the next line picking up where the song left off.

A small display beside the key and button read, “You win this round of trivia tunes!”

With that the door opened.

“SO that’s how you’re soo good at the audio round when we go to trivia night.” Ariana said jokingly.

“You got me.”

With that Oak ushered everyone through the door.

“Whoa!” Scott shouted out after the motion sensor lights turned from a low amber glow to a bright and cheerful yellow, fully illuminating the room.

Half the room was filled with rows upon rows of headphones—All different kinds, vintage, modern, big clunky over ear headphones, sleek new sport Bluetooth ear buds that slipped inside the ear, every different type anyone could possibly imagine, there were thousands upon thousands of headphones, the collection seemed to go on forever, endlessly. The other half of the room was filled with an equal amount of shoes, which also seemed to go on forever.

“Yeah, my wife really likes shoes. What’s that phrase? Happy wife, happy life. All those songwriter royalty checks mostly go to two things, new toys for the studio, and my wife.”

“Oak, I was saying whoa about the headphone collection, but the shoe collection is equally as impressive as well.” Scott scanned the room with his eyes. “How many headphones are in here Oak?” Scott asked out of curiosity.

“Hmm, I’d say at least six thousand. I’ve lost count.”

“Six thousand headphones!”

“I had more, but my wife made me get rid of some to make space to move more shoes in.” He shrugged as if to silently say, what are you gonna do about it? Nothing. “Okay, let’s see what we can do for Justin.”

Oak held his finger in the air and wiggled it towards him indicating for the group to follow. They walked down a few rows of headphones as though they were walking through the aisles in a headphone only thrift shop. Headphones clung neatly to hooks as low as a few inches off the floor all the way to the ceiling three stories up. Ladders like one might find in an old bookstore ran along the shelves for access to the upper levels.

Oak picked up one pair and handed the headphones to Justin. They were super vintage, 70s or 80s maybe? Well worn, large and clunky. He plugged the audio cable into the same device he had used to diagnose the earworm playing a sound through the headphones. “How about that?”

Justin stood for a minute with the headphones on his head then shook his head no indicating that the worm was stronger than ever. Taking the headphones off he handed them back to Oak. They walked a to the end of an aisle then down another, “AH HAH!” He took another pair off a hook. This time the pair was Bluetooth capable modern and flashy, customizable and comfortable with an over the ear fit. He carefully placed the headphones over Justin’s ears and tapped on the digital touch screen of the earworm device after syncing the Bluetooth connection. He cycled through various settings.

“Anything yet?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Justin shook his head, and then shifted the headphones to fit better. Oak continued to tap through various settings.

“Wait!” Justin smiled slightly. “Go back!”

Oak tapped the screen again.

“There! I mean, I can still hear it slightly, but it’s barely even noticeable just soft background music. I can deal with it like this. Whatever these headphones do, keep doing it.”

Oak searched for the right response, “Umm, well it’s complicated science, let’s just say they’re emitting a phase cancelation noise that is close to what the earworm sound is.”

“Works for me!” Justin said in an upbeat voice.

Ariana high fived Oak and then low fived Justin.

Just then the lawyer’s phone rang. He walked away for privacy. “Uh huh… Oh, interesting…”

“That’s not good.” Scott said staring at the lawyer.

“How do you know?” Scooter asked.

Scott shook his head. “He only says ‘oh, interesting…’ when it’s something bad. He’ll never say anything is bad, just ‘interesting’.”

“How does he get cell service down here?” Oak asked. “Even I don’t get cell service!”

“With him, it’s better not to question such things, just accepted it.” Scott replied.

“Okay then.” Oak said, backing off the subject.

After the call ended Carl, the lawyer walked back over to the group.

“What is it?” Scott asked.

“Just got off the phone with… Well, I’m not at liberty to disclose who the caller was… but let’s just say they had an interesting piece of information.”

“And that information is?” Scott said in a coaxing voice.

“Taylor is going to place the porter egg sound behind her song Lover during her performance tonight at the American Music Awards, she’s using the string arrangement as a guise.”

“She can’t do that, we have to stop that!” Scooter screamed out. The room fell silent aside from the humming of a few air ventilation fans.

“There may be a way.” Oak finally said, breaking the silence. “It would require getting two specific individuals to join with us—we’ll need someone on the inside who can get access to the equipment in order to swap the sound a second time with a placebo track, and we need someone to interrupt Taylor Swift right before her speech, long enough to swap out that backing track she’s going to play during Lover.”

“I can think of two people who might be perfect.” Justin’s spirits were picking back up, he seemed to be closer to his old self and less distant.

“Who?” Scott asked.

“Well, the insider will already be there… Billie Eilish. We’ve been chill ever since Coachella, you remember, Ariana,” Ariana nodded, how could she forget Coachella. Justin continued, “and of course more recently she let me record a vocal track on another version of her ‘Bad Guy’ single. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t made an alliance with Taylor yet. I know, I KNOW, I was wrong about Ed Sheeran, but I think we can trust Billie.”

“Okay, that would work. What about the other person? We need someone to interrupt Taylor before the song, we need someone who has experience, who can get it right, we’ll only get one shot at this…”

They glanced at each other, not saying a word.

Scooter smiled, “Anyone else thinking what I’m thinking? There’s only one person with the skill and experience to interrupt Taylor Swift at precisely the right moment.”

“KANYE WEST!” Everyone yelled together.

The helicopter blades spun up as the group climbed through the open doors. Scott told his ‘Where we’re going we don’t need roads, because we’re in a helicopter!’ joke again. Oak laughed.

“See, Oak gets my humor.” Scott said, satisfied that his joke was finally a hit.

Sushi and Tuna could be seen sitting in a window of the house looking out. They were to stay at the spaceship studio in the care of the Defenders just in case Taylor tried to make any further kitty cat kidnapping attempts.

Pop was the last to climb on board, a Defender handed him a large black duffle bag after he was safely inside the helicopter. He then handed the bag to Oak. Oak unzipped the bag to make sure the contents were all there, enough gold headphone cases for each one of them. He passed the cases out. “Don’t lose these.” Oak instructed them. “There’s a set of over ear Beats by Dre headphones, special grade custom made Solo Pro with Active Noise Cancelling technology. They’re linked with an integrated communication system so we can communicate with each other. Works up to five miles away in a mesh network, so as long as each one of us is within at least five miles of another person, we can all talk. Battery runs off kinetic energy, as long as you’re breathing, the headphones will work. Unfold them to turn on, fold them to turn off. There’s one mode for active cancelation with communication and another pre programed mode matching Justin’s frequency in case you get earwormed. We don’t know if they have one strain of the Gomez earworm, or multiple, but right now, it’s the best we have. This does mean Justin won’t have communication with us through the headphones, someone’s going to have to stay with him should the need arise for us to use these.”

“What are these little ones?” Scooter asked picking a smaller set of ear buds from perfectly cut-to-shape spaces within the foam. They sat snuggly inside the case beside the Beats Solo Pro headphones.

“Lookalike AirPods—although, they aren’t Apple, Taylor’s been handing out some kind of custom set to her Swifties, they call them SwiftPods. These will work in a pinch to protect you from both the Swift sound, and possible exposure to an earworm, but they contain no communication and it’s hard to hear anyone trying to talk to you, the noise cancelation is complete and contains no filters. They basically work like earplugs, but they look like SwiftPods so you won’t blow your cover in close proximity to a Swiftie.”

“We won’t be needing these,” Ariana grabbed Scooter’s case out of his hands and handed it back along with her own case. “Can you drop Scooter and I off at LAX before we stop at Kanye’s house? My private jet is waiting—we’ve got a show to make…” She looked over at Scooter disapprovingly.

“Better do as she asks.” Scooter said to everyone.

“But that’s out of the way!” Scott exclaimed. Ariana stared at him, her eyes piercing through him. He quickly backtracked, “Yeah, we can do that. Sure thing, not a problem Ms. Grande.” Scott said to her after looking to the lawyer and getting a nod of approval from the lawyer.

“Will you two be alright out there?” Oak asked.

Scooter shrugged.

“We’ll be fine.” Ariana said in a decisively powerful tone. “My Arianators will protect us from any Swifties if they try anything tricky, it’s Justin that you need to look out for, they’ve already used him twice in this war game, first with the kittynapping and then the earworm weapon, they’re likely to strike again to get to Scooter.”

The helicopter lifted into the air headed first for LAX and then to Kanye West’s house.

#taylor swift #swifties #arianator #ariana grande #shoes #earworm #justin bieber #amen break #kanye #kanye west #billie eilish #beatsaudio #rockandroll #billy idol #elvis #nike #happywifehappylife #lovetrumpshate

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aithne · 5 years

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(Illume) Tomika's Letters, 7/28 - 8/6: Rivers of Fire

7/28/1583 Skyhome

Dear Lady Yukiko,

I am glad to hear that your Lord told you about your child in advance of my letter. Of course, the fact that he refuses to say who the father is is still distressing, but I am glad he's to blame for that distress and not I.

Most interesting discussion today. Reiko had gone out last night, hunting with Ito, and came back as we were breaking our fast and discussing what to do next. Her asepect was extraordinarily troubled, and she was still without Ito. I find it odd how used I've gotten to the male kitsune being her (tall, redheaded) shadow, so quickly.

She looked around, and said, "Um, I think we have...a problem."

It transpired that she and Ito had gone out hunting the night before as a sort of graduation exercise; she's been training him in control, so he doesn't automatically kill everyone he sleeps with. But when their prey had fallen asleep, and he'd thought Reiko had fallen asleep as well, something had taken him over. And he went straight to Akemi, one of the people on the other side; more worrisome, she was the mage who was in charge of making another crystal to control the Thrykreen.

He told them everything he knew--which was quite a bit. Including where you and Akechi are, I am afraid. (Not that this is surprising to you, as i know we sent a message as soon as we knew.)

Reiko didn't want us to kill him, of course; though she claimed no particular attachment, I could see her playing with that little white ball that she fiddles with when she's nervous. She'd left Ito on the ship and come back to Skyhome alone, probably to keep us from doing something foolish.

There were arguments for killing him, of course; Reiko, seeing him as a possible solution to her race's current nearly extinct state, argued for taking him to the Demonbane and seeing if he could do anything with the male kitsune. She said, "I don't want to kill him until i know what he's for," and I somewhat had to agree with that.

There followed a long philosophical discussion about the role of immortals in the world, and whether a male kitsune was a good idea at all. The general consensus was no, but the consensus also was that we should take Ito to someone who knew more about these things, that person being Lord Takumi, your father.

It was fascinating to watch the different personalities in the discussion. Hiroshi was arguing for keeping Ito with us; Panda, having an apparent fit of crankiness, didn't care if he lived or died, but said that because he's betrayed us, he can no longer be allowed to run with the retinue; Tadaki couldn't quite see why we didn't just kill him, considering that he's a demon. Reiko was asked why it was that kitsune should be allowed to live, and was unable to come up with an answer other than, "We have always been, and we will always be. That is why! Why allow hengeyokai to live? Why allow humans, for that matter?"

Panda just shook her head and said, "Hengeyokai don't eat people, though."

We kept arguing, and finally Panda, who was short-tempered and seemed fed up with the whole thing, said in response to the kitsune protesting that foxes don't normally kill the people they feed on, "Look. Reiko. You're a nice kitsune. We like you. And how many people have you killed?"

Reiko dropped her gaze. "Ah...many."

"And you're a nice one. As far as I know, most kitsune aren't nice, Reiko. Who's to say this one will be?"

The vixen muttered a response and turned away, her cheeks burning as if Panda's reminder of her past had been a slap.

We elected to keep Ito unconscious with sleep potions and head north. Funitsu needed to go that way anyway, and there may be much to learn from Lord Takumi.

By the way, happy news--Panda is indeed pregnant! We all suspected, what with the craving for picked ginger, but she confirmed it for us today.

North for a week or so, now, to Sapporo. I will convey your greetings to your father when I see him.

Warmest regards, Soshi Tomika

7/4/1583 Sapporo (sailing towards Okushiri-to)

Dear Yukiko,

Fine wind blowing quick the salt spray beckons the gull toward the fire island.

Alas, I am not very much of a poet, but thank you for the copy of Sei Shonagon's work. (Poetry is the one art in which I have never excelled; my father was most disappointed when he found I have little talent for it.) I have been remiss in writing, I know, but there has been very little happening for the last week; Panda has been cranky, the kitsune has been scarce, Funitsu appears to be oblivious to all of my attempts to flirt with him, Haku has been silent, and Tadaki has been restless. The only two who don't seem to be somewhat discontent are Gryphon and the librarian.

Who is, at this point, not much of an archivist. He'd knock stacks of scrolls right over without even thinking!

We pulled into to Sapporo's harbor this morning and requested to see Lord Takumi. He granted us audience. I saw a brush of a white kimono patterned with summer herons, moving quickly out of a doorway on the other side of your audience chamber--your mother, the Lady Takumi, perhaps? I regret to say that I did not see her other than that one flash.

My husband talked for a time with Lord Takumi, discerning that the most likely place for the Scorpion samurai to be is Okushiri-to, an island off the southwest corner of Hokkaido. He also said that Akemi, who is working on making another Thrykreen control crystal, is likely on that island, as it's where he went to make the original control crystal, four hundred years ago.

After that was settled, he asked if there was anything else, and Reiko stepped out from behind Gryphon and said, "I have something. A request."

He fixed her with his piercing glare and said, slowly, "I will listen to you for Lord Soshi's sake. Speak."

I do not know if anyone else noticed her hands shaking. She is indeed terrified of your father, and for good reason. I noticed, for the first time, the similarity in them. It is less anything physical than it is in their eyes. They have the same gaze, unnervingly direct. And they were dressed as mirror images of each other, seemingly on accident; his kimono gold with designs picked out in red thread, marvelously subtle, and her habitual scarlet silk, shot through with yellow and gold.

She explained the situation with Ito, and Panda brought the sleeping kitsune in and laid him on the floor. Lord Takumi said, "Yes, I had a hand in creating him. Why?"

"What is he for? We might kill him, but not before we know what he was made for."

He chuckled, a little. "He was a trap, kitsune. A trap laid for not you but others. Though he seems to have caught you, right enough." Lord Takumi, the man known as the Demonbane, shrugged. "It was a project I was working on with the old Emperor. There are tales of two kitsune who have ten thousand tails apiece; it's probably more like a hundred, but they are the oldest of the kitsune. They are the kitsune gods, more or less. A race never dies until its gods are also dead. He was to find them, bed them, and kill them in their sleep. Then, it would be only a matter of time until the rest of the race was extinguished."

"He has been somehow changed by the other side. I was hoping you could fix that."

"Perhaps. And then what? I cannot release him as he is back to you."

"Then what can you do?" The kitsune and her father were sparring, back and forth. I got the impression that neither was truly winning this match, quite yet.

"I could change his body to match his spirit. He would become a she. But again, I could not release him as he is back to you. I am, after all, sworn to eliminate kitsune."

Panda spoke up at this point. "Change Ito like you changed Reiko. Give him a conscience and the ability to feel guilt."

Reiko said, a bit plaintively, "Death would be kinder, I think. But, if you gave him the choice, if he decided of his own will that he would rather live crippled than die..."

"I can do that. Reiko's humanity was a side effect of my linking my own life force to hers, but I understand how it works now. Give him some humanity, make him into one like Reiko, and change him to a female. If that is your will, samurai. For you and for the Lord Soshi, I'll do this."

The kitsune was glaring at her father. I believe the two of them define the term "dysfunctional relationship".

Panda tilted her head. "Your life force is linked to Reiko's?"

He smiled. "I am very, very old, and I do not die. Did you wonder why? My own immortality is linked to hers. And if she dies, I die, as well. She has the power to end my life in her hands...yet I notice she has not done so yet. And for every year I live, more of her kind die at the hands of my Thrykreen."

(Yukiko, I am sorry, but your father seems to be a very cruel man sometimes. Brilliant in that cruelty, but still cruel. Though the kitsune is a demon, somehow his torment of her seems...excessive.)

He rose and walked over to Ito, looking down on him, frowning. "There is something different about him. We did not bind him like this."

Panda handed him her orb, through which one can see the true nature of things. He took it without comment and peered through it at the male kitsune, muttering to himself. He handed the orb back and said, "I'm going to have to take a day or two to unravel this. Someone has altered him, and I don't know why right now. Lord Soshi mentioned that you have an errand to run; by the time you return, I should have him changed."

We agreed, and then filed out, leaving Ito sleeping on the floor. I saw Reiko look back over her shoulder briefly, shudder, and then skip forward, catching up with Gryphon and putting her hand on his back.

Off to Okushiri-to this afternoon; we should be there tomorrow morning, it's that close.

With much affection, Tomika

8/5/1583 at sea, between Okushiri-to and Sapporo

Dear Yukiko,

Okushiri-to is a foul place, smelling of sulfur. We sent the ship Shrike away for the day, and sent Tadaki in to scout for us.

He came back, saying that there was a tunnel leading into the volcano itself. Down the tunnel was the missing samurai, and what seemed to be a Scorpion general, which meant that these were our group of people. Into the harbor we went, taking over the one ship in the harbor, and then went into the lava tunnels, the heat and the stink increasing as we headed further into the volcano.

On the way in, we passed some decomposing corpses that were lying near the entrance of the tunnel. Funitsu asked me to make one of them talk, and I raised one and made it dance for me. Tadaki, who was standing near me, muttered, "That would be less disturbing if you didn't look so cheerful about it."

The corpse had committed seppuku rather than follow what he considered a dishonorable command--to break a stone seal, behind which was all manner of terrible things. Another of the corpses had broken the seal and had been burned to death by lava flowing from behind it.

We crept down, and saw the general and the Scorpion samurai building a bridge over a river of lava, towards a stone wall that had a large hole broken in it. We estimated that they had another four hours before the bridge was done. We definitely wanted to get there before they did, because that general was controlled by a piece of the twilight spirit, and as such was likely up to no good.

With that in mind, the librarian, Haku, and Funitsu used their swords, the ones so sharp they cut holes in reality itself. We gave them a minute and then went through the doorway ourselves. We didn't know where we'd come out, but instead had to trust the three who were leading us.

The doorway opened into a crystal city, and before us there were two wu jen, both looking a little singed (Tadaki's new favorite spell is Fireball), and one was bleeding from the librarian's sword cut. One was holding an orb that looked much like Tadaki's--only this one was a full orb, rather than the half of one that the Sparrow has. Before more than a couple of minutes passed, they took down both Reiko and the librarian, and the one with the orb, who we found later was named Akemi, took over the Thrykreen we had with us, commanding them to kill us.

And the Thrykreen attacked us. One of the enemy wu jen--Kumiko--had gone down, but we suddenly had our hands full with the mantids. Jeron, the one who leads the rest, reached down and picked up Reiko, and--was feeding her a healing potion? Surely my eyes were mistaken. He is a mantid, why would he help the creature who his race was meant to kill?

The remaining wu jen collapsed, her throat cut--but by who? Tadaki had her orb, sudenly, and the Thrykreen stopped attacking us. The Sparrow looked pleased with himself, and we surmised that he had stopped time once again. And Reiko opened her eyes, looking very surprised indeed to find herself being held by Jeron. He set her down, and she thanked him.

It turns out that he is the only one not bound to the orb, but bound by honor to Tadaki himself. Evidently, under our noses, Reiko and Jeron have been striking up something that is tenatively like a friendship. Her curiosity is often enough to overwhelm her fear, or her common sense. Perhaps both.

Off the two wu jen, we took a number of vials, a cloak, a wand, and the aforementioned orb. My husband decided to "test" the cloak by putting it on the librarian. It didn't seem to do anything to him, at least at first.

Then we had to figure out what to do next. We explored the crystal city a bit while we talked. Funitsu said, "Hm. There seems to be something here--ah, the corridor is an illusion."

And as we each wrestled with the illusion in our minds, the real corridor shimmered into view.

It was lined with what looked to be statues.

There are a few things that touch a primal fear in us. Even without knowing exactly what they were, we knew that they were to be feared. Perhaps a racial memory of ancestors killed by these things. They were huge--eight or nine feet tall, seemingly made out of crystal, and almost as wide across as they were tall--and they lined the corridor looking like nothing so much as sleeping death.

They were Warresh. There were perhaps a thousand of them.

A set of carvings in one of the corridors told the tale. The Dark Son, the sprit who is currently possessing Arenro, was given the Warresh by the gods in the great long ago. He set them with the task of serving humankind. Unfortunately, they escaped control, and went mad, killing countless humans.

The Bright Son then created the Thrykreen, who were tasked with destroying the Warresh. The Thrykreen overwhelmed the Warresh by sheer numbers, slaughtering them by the thousands. In the end, the Dark Son took the thousand who were left and sealed them in here, for a future use.

From what we could tell, there were about a hundred missing. We do not know where they went, not yet.

One of the Warresh woke. The librarian seemed to be speaking to it, and it spoke back. The Thrykreen were keeping a very wary eye on it, but under Tadaki's control, they did not attack, though I could tell that they sincerely wanted to. The librarian seemed to have firm control on them, though they still made us all nervous.

And a plan was born to take back Funitsu's samurai without spilling a drop of blood.

Once more with the sword's door, we appeared on the bridge before General Katsuro. Funitsu was in the lead, and he was backed up by two of the hulking Warresh. He snapped out, "Katsuro, surrender the samurai to me."

The two men stared at each other. Katsuro was a tall, thin man, his face dripping with sweat from the heat. He looked at Funitsu and said, slowly, "Lord...Soshi? I did not hear your brother...."

"I am. And you are ordered to give over your command to me." Calm, implacable, in that moment I came closer to loving Funitsu than I have ever before. The potential for steel in him finally showed itself.

Reluctantly, the general assented, nodding. Then Funitsu said, "Let us drink, then, to victories won."

In his hand was two vials of the true source. He handed one to ghe general, and both drank.

Katsuro shuddered and staggered, almost falling as the spirit fled his body. He opened his eyes and said, "Lord...Funitsu? Where did you come from?"

My husband asked, "Do you remember anything of the last three months?"

"Not much. Flashes. Movement. I--" He shook his head, and straightened. "Lord, what are your orders?"

Funitsu thought. "We'll send you to Kyoto, and from there you can march south. We have a method of travel that is quick, but you may find it strange. You're needed to fortify Miyazaki; the Crab is readying its pincers. I'll tell you what I know, on the way."

We loaded up the three boats we now have--the Benevolent, Shrike, and the third, as yet unnamed, ship--with the samurai, and as I speak we are sailing towards Sapporo. Before we left, we finished the bridge, put back four of the six Warresh that the librarian had with him, and sealed up the crystal city once more, destroying the bridge behind us.

I am glad to be away from the stinking island. I certainly hope we never have reason to go there again.

Much affection, Tomika

8/6/1583 Sapporo

Dear Yukiko,

A few more details today; I am confident we will see you soon, so I am merely writing this down so I can be sure you have a full report. We returned to Sapporo in the middle of the day today, and went to see your father, Lord Takumi. Mostly, we wished to see if Ito had decided that living was worth being afflicted with conscience, regroup, and decide what to do next.

Again, we were ushered into the Phoenix receiving chamber by a pair of unsmiling samurai. The Phoenix Lord said, "Ah, I see you've returned. Victorious, I assume? Good. The kitsune elected to live--I'll have her fetched, now. It seems she was bound magically to someone named Akemi, who died yesterday. Your work, I imagine. That tie needed to still exist, so I bound her to Reiko."

The Lord's visage turned once again severe, and he looked down at Reiko. "I've bound her to you as a daughter. One of these days, kitsune, you may discover what that means."

The former Ito was brought in, walking unbound between a pair of guards. She looked nervous and perhaps the slightest bit awkward.

I am sure you will meet the new kitsune soon enough, Yukiko, but she is exceptionally lovely to look upon. Skin flawless as a white jade cup, hair the same depthless black as Reiko's, falling to the backs of her knees. She was smaller as a female than a male, still almost head taller than Reiko, eyebrows like willow leaves and graceful, long-fingered hands. The only thing that was the same about her was her eyes, the startling light green of spring leaves, looking warily at us.

Reiko went to her, clasping her hands, speaking to her in a low voice. They briefly rested their foreheads together--startling, the intimacy of that one movement--and then returned to the rest of us. Reiko looked up at her father, amber eyes unreadable. "Thank you."

"May you have joy of her," he said, and it sounded not like blessing but condemnation. "After all, I have had such joy of my own kitsune daughter."

At those words, he pushed up the sleeves of his kimono to show Reiko--and us--his arms. Scarred to the point where there was more scar than skin, his arms were a record of pain, written in his skin.

The kitsune lifted her chin, and unexpectedly, shoved up her own sleeves. On them were long cuts, perhaps eight or ten of them--some of them nearly healed, others still raw and scabbed. They were obviously self-inflicted.

Why did none of us know she was doing this to herself? I remember the shock in her eyes when Winter told her of Lord Takumi's habit of cutting himself whenever she killed someone. But it seems unthinkable that she would follow in his footsteps.

Silence had fallen over the chamber, and into the silence Reiko spoke. "I meant to tell you, father. I pay for my own sins." And she turned and walked out. The newly female Ito hesitated and then followed her out.

Awkward silence was left in her wake. She tends to do that. No manners at all, and little sense of propriety. Funitsu picked up the thread of conversation, and after smoothing the incident over, we took our leave.

Tonight, I believe we will see you as we transit the Scorpion samurai to where they will be more useful. I hope, anyway. We all miss you, Yukiko.

Today we have triumphed, but it seems to be a very thin thread indeed.

Warmest affection, Tomika

Quotes:

"And she's sort of cranky, too." "I'm not cranky! I'm NOT CRANKY AT ALL. WHY DO YOU THINK I'M CRANKY?" --Reiko and Panda

"I've been praying to the wrong ancestors. Fuck me!" "That's okay. I forgive you." --Panda and Reiko

"Graham...what are you doing with the cleaver?" "Nothing..." "Don't lie." --Bryan and Graham

"There's a fine line between hostility and worship, sometimes." --Funitsu

"So do you want my considered opinion?" "Sure, Mr. Barbarian." "I think they're trolls." "I never would have thought that." --Hiroshi and Funitsu

"It's not Funitsu's fault that a quarter of a mile is 440 yards!" --Derek

"We figured you were pregnant. All that pickled ginger." --Tadaki (as I recall. The reason this is funny is because Laura, who plays Panda, loves pickled ginger.)

#so queued #gaming recaps: illume #D&D recap

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/strawberry-fields-forever-horoscopes-february-25th-march-3rd-2019/

Strawberry Fields Forever ~ Horoscopes February 25th-March 3rd, 2019

Via Aeolianheart

It is the second week of Pisces season, a perfect time to go within and make peace with the past. This is a time of deep reflection, for the Sun’s annual journey through the zodiac ends here.

As the Sun in Pisces submerges its light deeper and deeper into the waters of the abyss, memories bubble and emotions begin to flood.

Amidst the blissful enchantments of remembrance, the pain and sorrow of the past can emerge vividly.

Just breathe in. And let it go.

Remember that in the oceans of Pisces, even your bitterest tears will find their way home: dissolving back into the waters from whence they were born.

In Pisces, the Sun’s light no longer illuminates your individual story, fueled by the drama of your personal pain. Instead, the Sun illuminates the vastness of the whole human story, the collective unconscious that merges all time and memory together. It is here where your sacrifice of pain becomes resurrected as much deeper compassion for the world.

There is deep wisdom to be gained during Pisces season, but it is not taught through words or elaborate theories. The wisdom of Pisces is transmitted through the most primal level of consciousness, the limitless realm of imagination.

In language, only songs and poetry can begin to capture the essence of this realm. Untainted by the cognitive and rational mind, songwriters and poets are cherished for bringing treasures of wisdom back from the most primal level of consciousness: the swirl of eternal images.

Songs and poetry are the golden threads of enchantment that weave waking and dream life together.

There are innumerable examples to draw inspiration from, such a vast ocean of beauty to behold. But for this week’s meditation on Pisces, feel into the ambiance created by listening to the Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever which was released in February of 1967.

It is an exquisite song. If you knew nothing about its place in the history of psychedelic pop music, you would still fall under its spell as the lyrics begin with…

Let me take you down…

‘Cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields

Nothing is real

And nothing to get hung about

Strawberry Fields forever

…it begins like a song of innocence, an idyll from the ancestors of English poetry reaching across the centuries to uplift your heart and soul with the shared imagination of strawberry fields stretching on forever.

But the wisdom of the Sun in Pisces does not only express itself through eternal images of beauty. The Sun in Pisces is also felt when you are drawn to experience the dissolution of self…

Living is easy with eyes closed

Misunderstanding all you see

It’s getting hard to be someone

But it all works out

It doesn’t matter much to me

The Sun in Pisces asks you to remember that even the most heroic of heroes’ journeys must eventually dissolve back into the infinite, its torchlight merging into the glistening sparkle of the whole human story.

No one I think is in my tree

I mean it must be high or low

When interviewed about his songwriting process, John Lennon described Strawberry Fields Forever as being “psycho-analysis set to music”, a meditation upon his visionary sense of the world, that emerged in childhood.

“I always was so psychic or intuitive or poetic or whatever you want to call it, that I was always seeing things in a hallucinatory way.”

Reflecting further upon his journey of becoming a poet, John Lennon also shared:

“ Surrealism had a great effect on me, because then I realized that the imagery in my mind wasn’t insanity…Surrealism to me is reality….Even as a child. When I looked at myself in the mirror…I would find myself seeing hallucinatory images of my face changing and becoming cosmic and complete…”

..Strawberry Fields forever…

Monday/Tuesday: It’s Getting Hard

The week begins with a melancholy mood, as the Moon wanes through the last degrees of Scorpio. The last notes of Venus’ recent conjunction with Pluto still linger, giving you a sense of what will arise when she makes a conjunction with the South Node on Monday.

This alignment between Venus and the South Node in Capricorn will offer lessons about what aspects of the past can now be sacrificed. Whatever outworn beliefs that foster any lack of self-esteem can now be discarded.

Let dead leaves fall where they may to nourish the soil for the future.

Wednesday/Thursday: To Be Someone

On Wednesday, the Sun in Pisces sextiles Mars in Taurus giving you the spirit and the motivated energy to get a lot of important work done.

Mars brings extra sensuality to the Sun’s mystical daydream. The world is full of great art, great food, and great sex! With your senses fully awake and alive, you will be reminded of how to appreciate the beauty in your life.

Friday/Saturday/Sunday: But it All Works Out

On Friday, the first day of March, Venus in Capricorn will square Uranus in Aries. This will create a sharp instinct to define what your true values and integrity are built upon. You may suddenly choke on the lies you’ve been believing, turning sharply away from things that are luring you into the traps of conformity. This square will renew your sense of integrity, derived from your own common sense and intuition.

Just as this square perfects, Venus moves into the sign of Aquarius. The many practical worldly concerns that weighed down so heavy during her transit through Capricorn will be lightened up.

In Aquarius, Venus seeks to appease her appetites for beauty upon the edge, sifting through the outpourings of discarded madness in search of the light of genius. It is Venus in Aquarius that recognizes the spark of the divine in what has become outcast, unorthodox and strange.

Much Love,

Rachel

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 6 years

Text

The New Recruit

Part 8

Part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Marvel Masterlist

Taglist

Summary: After a tiring mission, all of you chill at the tower and decide to play Truth or Dare and things get interesting.

A/N: so this chapter turned out to be more Thor than Steve, but that's okay, because there are still many things that will happen.

Word Count: 2523

Days have past and you went on normal and dangerous mission. You continued to do your job your way. Steve still didn't like it and would argue with you every time, but he was slowly accepting it. Meanwhile, Tony was trying to figure out a way to make you control your powers and use them whenever you want, but with no success. Your job at the hospital was great and you finally got a promotion. Unfortunately, the building you lived in was still not repaired, who knew how long it would take to fix everything after it burned.

“guess what?” you arrived at the tower and headed to Tony's lab.

“you decided to move in here permanently?” he guessed.

“No. I got a promotion” you informed him.

“that's great, congratulations!” he said in the most normal voice ever.

“you don't seem happy for me” you crossed your arms.

“oh I am. It's just I've never got promoted. I don't know the feeling. I owned everything”.

“one of the disadvantages of being a multi billionaire” you teased.

“come on, let's go. We have a briefing in two minutes” he informed you.

“ugh, nooo. Why did you tell me? I didn't know and wasn't planning on going, but now I have to, dammit” you sighed.

“Briefing is important. How else would you know about the plan or the mission?”.

“You or Nat can summarize it to me, instead of listening to Rogers babble for hours” your excitement turned into annoyance. Of course, you should've know. Every time you are happy or excited, Rogers somehow manages to get in the way and ruin your mood.

“come on. It's not that bad” Tony led you to the conference room.

“Morning Stark! Ahh, Y/n I didn't know you were joining us to do, but I'm glad you could make it” Steve greeted.

“I wasn't planning on coming. It's Tony's idea” you sat down as far away from Steve as possible. You stretched your legs on the table. Steve stood up an was ready to inform everyone about the next mission.

“Now that everyone is here, I'd like to begin- y/n could you please put your legs down”.

“seriously? It doesn't affect anything” you sighed and did what he said. You were in no mood for arguing.

“Thank you! Now as I was saying, the plan is-”

“wait! Where's Thor? Isn't he coming?” you asked.

“He'll be joining us later. Now if you don't have anymore questions I'd like to continue...”he kept talking and explaining and you entered your own world. Thought about what to buy, the new responsibilities you have at the hospital, what you're gonna do this weekend and then you looked at him and he was still talking. Of course you didn't like his plan, but didn't want to say anything because he'd argue with you and try to convince you that his plan is right.

“y/n? Have you been listening to a word I've said?” Steve asked and you weren't paying any attention.

“Earth to Y/n. Hello! Do you copy?” Tony joked.

“sorry, what?” you snapped out.

“What were u doing?” Steve asked.

“planning a murder and imaging kicking your ass” you smirked.

“not gonna happen”.

“Yeah I know which is why I said imagining”.

“this is serious y/n. Focus!”.

- - -

as you were in the middle of a fight, Thor descended from the sky, and man the way he looked with that thunder around him!.

“what did I miss?” he asked.

“nothing much. Same old, same old” you gave him a smile.

You and Thor made great partners. It was like you complete each other on the field. You have his back and he has yours. Even the way you fight, it just works. Unlike with Rogers, you always end up fighting each other after defeating your enemies. It's like he was born to criticize you and tell you what you should and shouldn't do. Fighting side by side frustrated you and made you want to suffocate him sometimes. With Thor, it was relaxing and made fighting fun. You even start a conversation while you're at it. It's funny how even though when Thor is around your powers seem to not work no matter how hard you tried, but at the same time, whenever he was around you felt stronger, safer and more confident. And everyone noticed that. You wanted to impress him, but not just because you liked him, but also because he was a true fighter, a man from a different planet that's stronger than any human, almost any human. You wanted to show him that humans- women mostly can also be strong and powerful, not just Valkyries. He admired you and always praised you, unlike some. This made you even feel more confident and improved your fighting skills.

“what took you so long?” you asked.

“oh you know, I had some things to take care of at home, family drama and such” he talked to you casually as if you were sitting in a cafe.

“on your right” you warned him and he threw his hammer at the man.

“behind you” he warned you, you ducked and as soon as his hammer returned to him he threw it again.

“nice work” he praised you after you were done.

“thanks. You weren't bad yourself”.

“how many did you kill?” was the first thing Steve asked on your way home.

“relax Rogers. I didn't kill anyone. It's not like I want to. I only do it when it's absolutely necessary” you sighed.

“right. So it isn't because you had Thor on your side” he rolled his eyes.

“that's a bonus. And FY|, we make a great team and I actually enjoy working with him” you informed him.

“I'm sure that's not the only thing you enjoy” he muttered.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you knew what he meant, but it's not true, well 90% of it wasn't true.

“nothing”.

- - -

“who's hungry?” Tony asked as soon as you entered the tower.

“you are” you told him.

“obviously, I mean other than me. Pepper is coming and she asked if she should bring anything with her” he informed the team.

“can she bring Mexican food?” you asked.

“sure thing. I'll tell her right away”.

“I'm gonna take a shower. Are you guys going to bed or staying up?” you asked.

“I'm gonna eat and Pepper wanted to talk to Bruce about something” Tony said.

“Clint and I will eat too and probably have a drink” Nat told you.

“Thor, do you have somewhere to be?” you asked.

“not at the moment. I enjoy your company and your food. I think I'll stay” he told the team.

Steve was actually headed to bed, but when he heard that Thor was staying he changed his mind.

“I thought you were going to bed” you told him.

“changed my mind” he informed you.

“why? I thought I was gonna have a good time. Don't ruin the evening” you teased.

- - -

After a long shower, you put on your Pajama and headed to the living area. Pepper was talking to Bruce on the Balcony. Sam was still eating at the table. Steve was sitting on the couch reading something. Thor, Nat, Clint and Tony were sitting on the ground.

You were drying your hair with a towel when you entered “what are you guys doing?” you asked.

“finally! Took you long enough” Tony exclaimed.

“we're playing truth or dare” Nat informed you.

“isn't that a party game?” you asked.

“yeah, but we wanted to show Thor and we're bored and thought maybe we'd get to know each other even better” she added.

“come join us” Thor requested.

“UH, I um- I'm not a fan of the game” you told him.

“why not?” he asked.

“too much sharing, or doing stuff that I don't want to do” you claimed.

“oh.... but don't you trust us?” he asked again.

“I do, but when it comes to these games, I don't trust Tony and Nat. They always seem to want others to do or confess nasty stuff” you added.

“that's what makes the game interesting” Tony affirmed.

“come on y/n. It'll be fun and you don;t have to say or do something that makes you uncomfortable” Thor tried to convince you.

“alright, fine. But I'm gonna say hi to Pepper first. And- heeey Sam, I hope you left me some food” he was eating a lot.

“There's one last me. Hurry up if you want it, or I'll take it” he informed you.

“You leave that meal alone. I'm coming”. You greeted Pepper and talked for a bit then you took your meal and joined the game.

“so, who's turn is it?” you asked.

“since you just joined, I'll say it;s your turn” Tony said.

“Truth or dare?” Nat asked.

“Hmm... I'll start with truth”.

“I'll take it easy on you at first. Out of all the avengers here, who do you think is the strongest?” she asked.

“I'd say it's either Banner's Hulk or Thor” you told her.

“choose one”.

“putting Hulk's 'immortality' aside, I'd say Thor” you acknowledged.

“aw, thank you” Thor smiled at you.

“your turn. Truth or dare?” you asked Thor.

“Dare”.

“hmmm... I dare you to drink the complete hot sauce bottle in the fridge”

“ooooh. That's harsh” Tony exclaimed.

“not a problem” he went up to the fridge and actually started to drink it.

“slow down, you're gonna choke” Nat suggested.

“see told you no problem” he returned and it didn't seem to affect him at all.

A few rounds later “if you'll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom” Thor didn't well.

“Are you alright?” you asked. He nodded.

“ are you sure it has nothing to do with the hot sauce you drank?” Nat smirked.

“Ahm” was all he could say before rushing to the bathroom.

“I'll take dare this time” you said.

“I dare you to kiss Rogers” he bluntly said.

“WHAT?” your eyes widened.

“kiss. Rogers” he repeated.

“where is this coming from? And no, not him, anyone but him” you refused.

“is there a problem with that?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

“Uhm yeah. Besides, we already kissed” it was your turn to smirk.

“WHAT? When? Why? And how?” he was shocked.

“It was Nat's idea. We were on that mission, when everyone thought Fury was dead”

“oh yeah I remember about that”

“yeah. So we were followed by some agents and in order for them to not see us, Nat suggested that we kiss and he did. End of story. Now can you choose someone else please” you begged.

“what do you have against him?” he asked.

“Nothing. I don't know. He annoys me” you didn't have a good answer.

“Fine. Thor. Kiss Thor”.

“ugh...shit! Out of all the people in this room, you chose the ones I don't want to kiss, not that I want to kiss any of you, but they are the last ones on the list if I had to” you informed them.

“what do you have Thor now?” he asked.

“Nothing. He was my celebrity crush and now.. this is gonna be awkward” you admitted.

“wait what? You had a crush on Thor?” Clint and Tony asked at the same time.

“Yeah, who wouldn't” you shrugged.

“what about now? Do you have a crush on him?” Tony smirked.

“you're out of your turn Stark” you teased.

Thor just got out of the bathroom and headed to grab a glass of water.

“here he comes” Nat informed you.

“okay, wish me luck” you took a deep breath and headed towards him.

“she's not gonna actually do it, is she?” Clint asked.

“Nah, I don't think so” Tony smiled.

“I think she will” Nat believed.

“So Thor... remember the game we're playing? I got a dare” you reminded him.

“oh yeah, great, what is it? If it's to drink a hot sauce bottle, don't do it, it's a bad idea” he warned.

“well, not exactly. Stark dared me to kiss you” you finally spoke.

“Oh.” there was awkward silence for a moment and then he looked at you.

“okay then, what are you waiting for?” he asked.

“what, really?” you weren't sure if he meant it.

“yeah, isn't that what you're supposed to do. I mean I get it if you don't want t, but I'm saying it's okay” he assured you.

“what is taking so long?” Clint asked.

“she's not gonna do it. She's stalling” Tony crossed his arms.

You stood on your tiptoes, closed your eyes and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. To your surprise he held your tiny face in his hands and kissed back passionately. You were going for a soft close-mouthed kiss but he chose the french kiss and you went along.

“Holy shit!!. She really did it” Tony jumped out of his place and Steve turned to see what's going on.

His heart broke a little and sadness dominated over his face. He wanted to say something, to stop you but he didn't have the words.

You took a step back and exhaled “Uhm, wow! That was.. something” who knew Thor was such a great kisser. This complicated things for you even more.

“I think you won the dare” he smiled, you chuckled and returned to your seat.

“Holy shit y/n!” Tony exclaimed.

“what? You dared me to” you reminded him.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

“well, I did. Did I win this round?”

“you definitely did” Clint was proud.

“okay guys, this was fun and all, but I need to go to bed. Gotta wake up early tomorrow, I have another job, in case you forgot” you reminded them.

“you can't end the night like this” Tony sighed.

“Is there a better way to end the night?” you joked and Thor and Nat chuckled.

“Good night everyone”.

“good night”.

“hey y/n?' Steve called your name.

“yeah?”.

“forget it. Nothing, have a goodnight” he wanted to say something but didn't have the courage to.

“if you say so captain. Enjoy your book”.

@markusstraya @purpstraw @berruneko09 @5aftermidnight @hshdhhshehhdh @fangirlofmidgard @dark-night-sky-99 @lilulo-12 @remikey @betterfeelsorethansorrytomorrow @jeansongg @spacemarkimoo @babymorganna @projectxhappiness @deluxedepression @tuttigunner @dlb113

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then-i-kiss-my-car · 6 years

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Uumm shy, anxious human confessing to Swerve they have a huge crush on him? And asking if they can kiss him?? Please i love that boy so much ;;

(Knees weak, arms spaghetti, jro let me smooch Swerve already)

(I’ve written this twice and both times it ended up, like, super long. So under a cut it goes.)

You’re the government official human liaison of the Lost Light. Diplomat to Cybertronians and whatever alien races you encounter. On the job, it’s crucial that you’re confident, unwavering- a representative of Earth and the human race.

The same can’t be said off the job. Technically, you’re never off the job so long as you’re on board, but if you kept your work face on 24/7 (er. Well, the space equivalent at least) you would just be exhausted, not to mention even more lacking in the social department than usual. Which isn’t to say you don’t have friends! You do. You’ve made some dear friends in your time on board the Lost Light. You just like to think yourself as cautious. Yeah, cautious. Don’t want to talk too loud, too much, come across too strong and make a fool of yourself.

And if there’s one bot you really don’t want to look stupid in front of, it’s Swerve. Even you know that’s a ridiculous notion- you know Swerve won’t think any less of you if you if you screw up in front of him. Crack a few jokes, maybe, but you think you could stomach that with minimal shame. But, well…

You like Swerve. You really like Swerve. You have ever since he welcomed you on board, sat you down at his bar, and made the effort to mix something fit for human consumption- though it took him a while to figure out that you weren’t exactly the most comfortable at peak hours. He actually talks to you like a person, not a novelty or some weird pet! Sure, he talks a lot, but you like that. He fills in where you’re silent. He doesn’t get annoyed when you don’t talk. He-

He’s a lot of things. A lot of things that you really like.

It takes… well, it takes a while for you to acknowledge that you’ve got a massive, raging crush on Swerve. For the most part, it was denial- he’s a robot, functionally immortal, almost twice your size, and, most importantly, someone you were supposed to have a professional working relationship with. At first, you just thought it was the customary jitters you’d get when someone actually paid attention to you. Then you thought it was relief that someone actually seemed to like you, or at least tolerate your silence.

Then you caught yourself thinking about how nice it would be to show him around Earth, maybe hold his hand, how his cheeks looked perfect for squishing and just the perfect landing pad for kisses and- uh oh. Oh no. Now you can barely even wave hi to him without feeling the need to hide your face, afraid he’d somehow notice just how hot your face would get whenever he said your name.

You think you’re content to let it be. That it will pass, and that you’re better off letting it do so, because then you won’t have to suffer the shame of rejection and the crushing possibility of completely ruining your friendship.

And then Swerve calls you over to the bar at one of its few hours of silence. You considered not going, making some excuse about feeling ill or having a meeting or being otherwise busy because you know, you just know that he’s figured it out and had the thought to at least spare you having an audience as he tells you he’s not interested.

But you had a brief flash of responsibility. You’re the liaison. Even if it’s just a casual call, even if you’re out of the uniform, you can’t run away- though god, did you want to.

Swerve takes a little bit to get around to the point of the matter, first babbling off some greetings and busying himself with- something. You’re still too short to really see what he’s doing all too well.

“-and so really I was just wondering did I do something? Is everything alright? Primus, did I do something to embarrass you? I sure hope not. If I did I want to say sorry- like, super sorry, because that’s not something I’d ever want to do to you- but also what did I do? Are you mad? Please tell me you’re not mad.” There’s a split second of silence as you process what he’s just said- miraculous, really, that there’d be any silence at all.

Then it hits you, and you rush to explain before you ruin everything. “No! No, no, no, you didn’t do anything, Swerve! It’s fine, nothing really, I just-” you pause, sigh, and bury your face in your hands. “No, that was a lie, it’s not nothing. Nothing bad! Nothing bad, nothing you did. I just, uh-” you cover your mouth with one hand, squishing your cheek against your palm as you look away from him, desperately trying to ignore how distressed Swerve looks. “Swerve, look, just- hear me out, okay? I just, uh…” you grimace behind your hand, “I gotta say it. Swerve-” You take a deep breath, but before you can say anything beyond his name, Swerve cuts in with a panicked rush.

“Oh, oh no, I really did do something, didn’t I? Or are you leaving the Lost Light? Please tell me you’re not. I mean! Don’t let me stop you if you really want to go, but I really don’t want you to go? Oh, Primus, or are you seeing someone and you want me to leave you alone? I can, I promise, I-”

“Swerve. Swerve. Swerve!” The first time you’ve cut him off since you’ve met him, in a stunning show of actually being able to raise your voice. Swerve stops, shocked partially by the fact that you’ve spoken beyond a soft murmur, partially by just hearing you say his name. “It’s- don’t worry, it’s none of that. I just-” you look him in the- in the visor?- and you’re sure you look miserable, probably; you can feel your brows furrowed and your mouth tightened in an anxious frown. “Ireallylikeyouokay. There. I said it.”

One second. Two seconds. Three, four, five, then- cooling fans blast on, machinery humming as it kicks into overdrive, and Swerve’s face turns a stunning shade of dark pink, and his vocalizer kicks back in, words almost overlapping.

“You do? I mean, you’re not just saying that. Or do you mean you like me as a friend? Or do you like, like like me? Please tell me it’s the second one, because I also really like you and god I hope that doesn’t freak you out if you mean it just like a friend way I just really like how you’re so nice and you always listen to what I say and never tell me to shut up and you’re really, really cute and- and-” Swerve copies a move out of your own book and covers his face with his hands. “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No! No! Swerve, you didn’t ruin anything,” you rush to calm him down, barely even registering what he’d just said, “it’s fine. It’s-” it hits you, “you mean it? You- you also, um, like me?” Your voice trails off into a squeaky whisper, “because I mean it when I say I do, I just- uh, I just- I’m glad you called me here, Swerve, because I don’t- I don’t, uh, think I would’ve been able to, y’know, work up the nerve to actually tell you?”

“Well, yeah I mean it! Primus, how could anyone not like you! I’m just surprised that you actually- you really do like me? Like, the way I think you do?” In hindsight, it’s downright comical how long you go back and forth assuring that yes, you like each other, no, it’s not a joke and nothing’s ruined. It takes long enough that your alarm to get ready for your shift goes off, startling the both of you.

“Well, I, uh- I guess that’s my cue, then?” you say. You look back at Swerve, then to the door, and then to Swerve again. “Um, Swerve, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything! Yep, you can ask anything and I will absolutely answer, 100% honest, and I just realized that that sounded kinda suspicious but it wasn’t supposed to be, I really mean it.”

“Can I- uh, can I- canIkissyoubeforeIgo?” There, you said it.

“Yes!” Swerve’s shout startles the both of you. “I mean, yes, absolutely, definitely, please do, uh, um-” he hesitantly leans down, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to smile, “I don’t want to, like, go in too fast and knock you off the bar.”

You snort at the mental image. “Got it, got it. Just, uh-” your face feels like it’s on fire. “Hold still,” and you raise yourself up on the bar, just to reach the height to give him a quick peck before darting back and holding your face in your hands.

The moment is ruined when Whirl walks in, gets a good look at you, and runs down the hall, shouting, “Swerve and the squish are smoochin’! We got a pair of love bugs in here!”

You slam your face down on the bar while Swerve shouts at Whirl down the hall, but the both of you are wearing big stupid grins.

#swerve #transformers idw #maccadam #transformers imagine #tf swerve #tf imagines #uhhh any other tags? not used to putting things in actual fandom tags

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pixelgrotto · 6 years

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D&D With My Bro: The Case of the Almost Assassination

For the last four months, my brother and I have been playing a Dungeons & Dragons campaign that I whipped up called The Case of the Almost Assassination, and we came to a triumphant finale the other night. My bro’s called it a “steampunk mystery set in a fantasy world,” which is a good description, but on a more detailed level, the campaign was also heavily influenced by the Ace Attorney and Professor Layton games and exists in the universe of The Thirteenth Hour, a series of fantasy stories self-published by my brother that are inspired by 80s movies and cartoons. So the whole thing is one huge ball of fun nerdiness, and figuring that it might be cool to chronicle the campaign as we played, I captured each of our sessions on video. You can watch the whole thing on YouTube here in convenient playlist format (listening to it in the background like a podcast is also pretty nice, I gotta say), and there’s over 20 hours there, which is longer than some of the video games I’ve blogged about!

This wasn’t the first time that my brother and I had played D&D, since I’d previously introduced the game to him via a small four hour mini-campaign last time I visited his house. (He’s written some great thoughts on that adventure, as well as the experience of missing out on D&D in his childhood but getting the chance to discover it as an adult here.) But this was certainly the first time we’d played something long that continued from week to week, and it was also the first time we’d used virtual tabletop software - in this case the very useful Roll 20 - to play online. Minus a few minor internet hiccups, it ran smoothly, and I think both of us had a great time. The experience also made me ruminate on three interesting facts about D&D that I think not enough people write about, and I’m going to jot off a few thoughts on them here. Without further ado...

1) It is perfectly possible, and sometimes even more fun, to play D&D with just one other person.

Normally, Dungeons & Dragons conjures up images of a bunch of people - usually three or four at minimum - sitting at a table listening to instructions given to them by the Dungeon/Game Master, or DM. But the hardest part of D&D isn’t juggling rules or even fighting Challenge Rating 30 monsters - it’s getting a group of three or four people to meet up together on a consistent basis! This is why you can tell that anyone who still thinks of D&D as an activity for anti-social basement dwellers hasn’t actually played it, because in truth, the game is a demanding social commitment, especially for adults.

Thankfully, while it might be a less common way to play, you can totally enjoy D&D with just two people. Usually this means that someone more familiar with the rules has to be the DM while the other person acts as the player, which is what my brother and I did. Sometimes, the DM will also have to create a player character for themselves, and I did that in order to assist my bro with various battles and tricky scenes. This is more work for the DM, since they’ll have to juggle both their own character as well as the various non-playable characters (NPCs) encountered in the story, but if you’re up for it, it’s a rewarding exercise.

The best thing about playing D&D with just one DM and one player is how efficient it is. Three or four player D&D (to say nothing of five, six, or even more players) can get slowed down by arguments about how to progress or share loot, not to mention downtime in battles when a player who has a bazillion spells at his disposal deliberates on the one he wants to use that will both do the most damage and look the coolest. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love these sorts of interactions, but it’s also nice to strip all that fat away.

When it’s just one player and the DM, the DM also has the chance to make that player feel pivotally important by basing the story around them. Usually, the “unit” of D&D is the adventuring party, but in a one person + one DM game, the player gets to shine as the main character. Thus, it’s a good idea to choose the sort of story that can emphasize the important actions of an individual, and in my opinion the best ones for this are heavy on role-playing and character interaction rather than dungeon crawling and monster slaying. For example, a rogue adventure in an urban environment might fit the bill...or maybe even a mystery. Which leads me to my second point...

2) If you’re a DM making a homebrew campaign, try utilizing a setting that your players are already familiar with.

When my brother initially agreed to play a long campaign with me, I first thought that we might attempt one of the many published Forgotten Realms adventures that have been released for 5th Edition D&D. But then I realized that while my brother is mildly familiar with the Forgotten Realms, thanks to old comics and fantasy art from the 80s and 90s, he’s much more familiar with the setting that he created for his own fantasy novel, The Thirteenth Hour. My bro originally wrote this book when he was a high school kid and finally published it a few years ago, and in the time since, he’s written some short spin-offs and outlined ideas for a sequel. In the mini-campaign we’d played in October, his character was actually a half-elf ranger named the Wayfarer who’ll play a pivotal role in book two, and I initially pitched the whole idea of D&D to him as “Hey, this can help you brainstorm your sequel concepts before you put them down to paper.”

Once I began toying with the idea of making a homebrew campaign set in The Thirteenth Hour world, I started worrying that my brother’s universe was limited when compared to the “fantasy kitchen sink” setting of the Forgotten Realms. I mean, my bro’s book didn’t even have orcs! Or dwarves! What was I gonna do! But then I stopped being reliant on fantasy tropes and actually re-read The Thirteenth Hour, quickly finding that there was plenty I could work with.The universe that my brother created doesn’t have all of the races that Tolkien coined, but it’s still full of magic and wonder - a place where crafty old wizards inspired by The Last Starfighter’s Centauri run amok, strange technological anomalies like hover boards occasionally pop up and an otherworldly gatekeeper known as the Dreamweaver lets the spirits of the deceased visit their loved ones in dreams. And there’s also a large kingdom called Tartec ruled over by a vaguely Trump-esque king named Darian, who thinks he’s found the elixir of immortality when actually all he’s discovered is coffee. (If you think this sounds amusing, you can pick up a digital copy of my bro’s book on Amazon for less than a cup of Starbucks!)

Darian’s a funny character, and in one of the spin-off short stories that my brother wrote, an older and slightly wiser version of him reflects on how an assassin nearly took his head off with a dagger. This one sentence got me thinking who that assassin might be, and before I knew it I’d come up with the basic hook of a campaign. At the time, I was also reading Xanathar’s Guide to Everything, a D&D book that introduces 5th Edition’s Inquisitive subclass, which is basically a fantasy Sherlock Holmes. Suddenly, the ideas began bubbling in my head - the campaign would be a detective story set in Tartec with two leads trying to determine the identity of King Darian’s would-be assassins. Once I had this hook, I decided to draw further inspiration from the two video game series I think of when I hear the word “detective” - the Professor Layton games (which I like the style of but am rubbish at, since puzzles confound me) and the Ace Attorney series, which I’ve written about before. My brother would be the main character Lester LeFoe (patterned slightly after Phoenix Wright, the star of Ace Attorney), and I’d be the spunky female assistant Claudia Copperhoof (a little similar to Phoenix’s assistant Maya Fey).

I hoped that situating these characters in my brother’s world would breed a quicker sense of familiarity than he’d get from playing a generic warrior in the Forgotten Realms, and I think it’s safe to say that the experiment succeeded. Thus, even though 5th Edition D&D products all use the Realms as their default setting, it’s worth remembering that you don’t have to follow this lead, and can always tailor your campaign to a world that your players are already familiar with. In my brother’s case, he’s a writer who made his own world, but for someone else this can easily be Middle-Earth or the Hyborian Age of Robert E. Howard’s Conan books. The D&D Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide actively encourage modifying published adventures to appeal to your players’ favorite settings, in fact, and not only will this potentially help to decrease the amount of lore you need to explain as a Dungeon Master, but it’ll also help keep the attention of everybody listening to you. Because who wouldn’t want to insert themselves into their favorite bit of genre fiction as a legendary figure? In many ways, the whole point of D&D is to give people a framework to do that!

3) If you’re DMing for someone who doesn’t have much time to play, remember that a linear campaign is not necessarily a bad thing, and simplify the more complicated rules - making stuff up whenever necessary!

On page six of the 5th Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide, there’s a whole section entitled “Know Your Players,” which is all about altering your game to appeal to the personalities at your table. If you’re DMing for people who like acting and appreciate in-depth stories, give them plenty of role-playing opportunities and narrative twists, for instance, and if you’re dealing with folks who’d rather just make their characters look cool, try having them fight lots of monsters who reward snazzy armor and weapons.

There should really be a sub-section there entitled “How to run a game for players who are low on time.” Because that’s my brother in a nutshell. He’s a late 30s dude who works a demanding job and has two small children to take care of, one of whom is barely half a year old. (You can hear my nephew gurgling in the background in a few of our videos, and sometimes we’d even have to stop playing when the baby woke up from a snooze, which is a situation that I’m sure all new parents can relate to.) I know for a fact that my brother is also the type of guy whose eyes will glaze over when presented with a lot of complicated rules - as is probably the case for anyone who only has at most an hour or two, often in the late evening, to sit down to play a game when the rest of the family is in bed.

In my opinion, the way to tailor your game to such a player is to make a brisk, well-paced story that they can actually see to a satisfying conclusion. This means that the campaign might be fairly linear - a word which seems to have bizarre negative connotations to some D&D players out there, who are always ranting about “railroading,” which is when a DM puts players down a predetermined path without any wiggle room. I think it’s important to note that “linear” does NOT necessarily equate to “railroading,” however, and that a sprawling campaign with a trillion different outcomes and choices to make at every interval isn’t necessarily the best approach for someone who can only play a little bit each week and might get bored if they feel like they aren’t making tangible progress.

Let me put it this way - the campaign that I made for my brother was tightly designed. Instead of giving Lester and Claudia a vast landscape to explore, everything was confined to the city of Tartec, and I made an effort to nudge the characters towards certain objectives that they had to complete in order to solve the mystery, such infiltrating a manor house in the upper class section of town. But I also made sure to flesh out these few areas (quality over quantity) and allowed a certain degree of freedom in how the objectives could be cleared. For instance, I initially thought that Lester and Claudia might sneak into the manor house through the sewers. But as I was brainstorming strategies with my bro, the topic of disguises came up, because Claudia owned a disguise kit. And eventually we decided to infiltrate the party with Lester masquerading as a nutty old lady and Claudia as his keeper, which was a fun improvisation that I never would’ve anticipated - but still a viable way to complete the main objective that didn’t negatively impact the story’s pacing.

On the topic of keeping the pace of the story brisk for a player low on time, I feel like it’s also important to minimize the number crunching and reduce D&D’s more complicated rules whenever possible. In practice, this meant that I took care of as much behind-the-scenes stats management as possible so my bro wouldn’t have to, though I did always try to explain to him what was going on (and what all of those funky dice rolls meant) so he’d have some understanding of the game’s mechanics. Also, whenever we were in a situation where I wasn’t sure of a rule, instead of wasting time looking at the Player’s Handbook, nine times out of ten I’d just make something up on the fly. For example, our adventure had a friendly NPC orangutan in it (specifically chosen because I know my brother likes backflipping primates) and she was supposed to be a super strong, unpredictable force of nature in the final battle. I’d lost the stats that I’d used for her when she first appeared, and instead of looking for them, I decided to just roll a d20 for her damage, figuring that the end result would be close enough. In that same vein, there were a few instances where I made mistakes, since I’m still a relatively new DM. Once I totally miscalculated a character’s special attack, leading to a funny NPC death (which I’d expected but not exactly in that way) and on multiple occasions I flat out forgot to apply modifiers to attack rolls. But instead of going back to redo everything I’d either just laugh it off or forge ahead, hoping that my bro didn’t notice, which he never did.

Ultimately, my philosophy for DMing is to not sweat the small stuff TOO much if it probably doesn’t matter in the long run, especially if you’re running a game for just one person whose free hours are precious. I believe this sort of approach might be sacrilegious to some of the more rules-oriented DMs out there, like the ones who spend hundreds of words arguing over damage variables on the D&D Subreddit. But I’m not one of those folks, and I’d prefer to follow the advice of Sly Flourish, a DM who has a great website where he advocates a “lazy” style of Dungeon Mastering which de-emphasizes nitpicking over rules in favor of just having fun.

At the end of the day, having fun is what D&D is all about. It’s a game of make believe that can really bring out your inner storytelling-loving child, and in an era where very few adults are encouraged to even consider the concept of “make believe,” it can be a truly wonderful breath of fresh air. And if you don’t believe me...I encourage you to watch The Case of the Almost Assassination and try not to crack up at some of the situations that Lester LeFoe and Claudia Copperhoof found themselves in. :)

The pics above are either art that I assembled for our adventure or screenshots that I took while we were playing! The little figurines I designed via HeroForge.

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are-you-still-writing-that · 3 years

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An Open Letter

My longest companion,

I write to you now, that I fear I can no longer just sit back quietly, and let you wander through my life, unattended and ignored, like your company means nothing to you or me. I admit, that for the longest time, I was not even aware of you or your attendance to me. Only the observations of a good friend of mine have shaken me out of my unknowing, that I have wandered through now for the longest time. Though, there had still been suspicions coming from my side towards your company, I never knew anything concrete, that could lead me towards you. But I am as much at a fault for that, as you are, and we both know it.

You truly like to stay in the shadows, do you not? Always out of my sight, so that I can never quite catch an image of you. Haunting me, with a faceless figure so vague, that I always thought it to be a lacking construct of my dreams, of my tired mind unable to finish the entire image. You deliberately came to me only, when you knew, that I would not, rather could not, remember you clearly in the aftermath. For so long, you left me in the belief, that you were a construct of my own treacherous mind. A nightmare more persistent and fastened towards reality than others, and not an actual being of your own. But there was so much more, and worse things, that you did, no?

It is you after all, is it not? The one, who sends the shadows after me, that still haunt me everywhere I go, at any moment and every opportunity, in my life. Even in my worst nightmares, your faithful and loyal servants will follow me without a fault, so that I can never get rid of them, so that I am never able to catch my breath and gather my thoughts. Sometimes, I am sure, that they even are the reason of my worst nightmares in the first place. Those horrible little shadows, that will follow my every step, are positively driving me insane.

They did, from the very first moment, that I ever got aware of them. It is amusing, no? That I was aware of your servants earlier than of you?

Anyway, they drove me away from every safe haven, and chase me easily across the land, like a relentless predator, and I, the fool that I am, play the part of the prey far too easily. I never seem to be able to catch my breath, and I will always look over my shoulder, just to find your shadows once again. They eroded over time, any sanity, that was left in my bones, and left me as an unsure mess. I can, on some days, barely discern what is real and what is just my insanity rearing its ugly maw to swallow me whole in fantastical images. Was that your plan since the beginning? To drive me slowly insane, and with no way left for me, to return myself back to sanity?

Be aware, that I fault you for that more, than for anything else that has happened to me, over my plenty years on this plane of existence. Countless years indeed. I long ago have lost count, how long I am ghosting, never quite with purpose, and my attachments as steadfast, as the wind is on any given day, over this place now. Well, not quite like that. I have not lost the count of my many days, my own infallible memory will not allow that, but I wish to not remind myself again, how painfully long this life of mine came to be already. The amount of years brings me nothing, but sorrow.

I am not immortal, at least I sincerely hope, that I am not. My experience with my cursed longevity, as already showed me far too well, that I could not deal, with the trials, that would come to me, if I was truly unable to part from this world. I still feel the pain of my injuries, how some of my bones have been worn thin through excessive use, and I still bleed in a bright red. What my hope is for the moment, that till now, I just have not found a way to depart. Immortality or an unnatural long life-span, are truly not, what dreamers make it out to be. It is not a fate, that I would wish on anyone, but it is still not the worst thing, that I was cursed with. Rather it is a little side effect, that can not be avoided, that tears my heart apart in the cruellest way possible.

No, the worst thing about my little condition of my stubborn survival, without any end in sight, is a torture I truly cannot wish onto anyone. I saw so many of my friends, already pass away. Some peacefully, some taken away by violence. I do not think you know, how much has already been taken from me, that I can never get back, no matter which way I go. It fuels my anxiety, of moving on, of keeping up the fight. My memories of my dearest friends, slowly get buried under the sheer mass of memories that I accumulated, simply by still being here. It takes so long nowadays to find a memory of the dearly departed. It is a cruel fate, to live so long, without an end in sight.

Alas, I can thank you for that too, no? Are you not the one, that has cursed me to this? That has given me this cruel affliction, that I can never recover from? Why do people think that dying is the worst thing that can happen to someone? I know now, and maybe I have always known, that it is not. There are worse things, that can happen to someone, than simply taking a last breath, or closing their eyes, while listening to the last beat of their heart. At my point in life, with my experience, death would be truly a mercy upon myself. But thanks to you, the end is still not near.

I do not know what you had been thinking, if it truly is your fault, but I can attest, that either you have been wrong, and need to revise how to bestow a gift upon someone, or you were right, and truly have figured out how to inflict the cruellest pain on a person imaginable. I almost fear, what your intentions were. Why? Well, your intentions would undoubtedly reveal, what kind of being, had stayed so close to my side, has surely copied alone through sharing the same space, some of my mannerism, while I unconsciously copied some of yours. What kind of person, would make me this? The answer, would be unavoidable, with the reveal of your intentions, and the following reveal of you.

Another question though, this time, truly my own, plagues me though. Why it had to be me? It is a question I would like to have answered. It plagues me deeply and relentlessly, for I cannot find any answers on my own for it. Was my youth not enough, for my fragile heart? Did you need to make life worse, than I already was, simply by being there? Did you try to get my favour, in a way that would only get you my scorn? Or did you try to play a benign hero, only to fail miserably at every and any opportunity?

Forgive me, that last sentence, was uncalled-for. While it still puts a lot of what I feel into words, I may have worded it nicer, than I did now. But I also have to admit to you now truthfully, that whenever I look back onto everything that has happened to me, my anger gets the worst of me. This is the first time, I truly seem to be able to fault someone else for all the short-comings in my life, without any guilt for myself. It makes me the most poisonous to my surroundings, with my anger, so that everything, that comes into contact with me, might suffer, the same way I did. It makes me irrational, and my words hurtful.

Even though, I still do not quite know who or rather what you are, and my conscience and survival instinct are telling me to play this safe and smart, I cannot help myself, but to antagonize you. It seems, that I cannot convince myself, to soften the blows of my words, and dull the pain I want to inflict on you. How, after all, can I be pleasant to you, when you have ruined so many of my peaceful years already. I am faced for the first time, with the culprit of, not only, many tear, but also many hours of anguish, that I had to suffer through.

And if you truly followed me around, since I was nothing but a small whelp, you should recognize my empty platitudes anyway. At least, that is what I would expect of you. To be frank, I also do not care, at the moment at least, if I insult or hurt your feelings, while I still recognize, when I crossed a line, that I maybe should not have. It feels, almost revitalizing now, in this small letter to you, to air out, what has been bothering me for quite a while. It is refreshing, to throw empty platitudes to the side, and just let go of my strict manner.

Though I have to admit again, it confuses me greatly, that apparently you have tried to be my friend for so long, while I just never took direct notice of you, only of your shadows. My longest companion, I truly do not know if I should see you as my friend or my enemy. I am nowadays aware, that you have played both roles now, with great care, and my mind tears itself over that apart. I just can not figure out how to place you into my life. I am aware, that you have caused me great anguish, but also have saved my life on several occasions. At least you did, if I have placed your action in retrospect, right? Though, correct me if I am wrong. After all, I am trying to get an accurate image of you now.

Am I correct in assuming, that you posed as the call to adventure, that I simply could not resist, so many years ago? At first, I simply thought it to be my own desire to leave, and never return, that I had finally finished with the place, and the people occupying it. Alas, the longer I think of that day, the longer I think of the call, that I followed, the more sure I get, that the call came from someone else, and not from me. Like a friend calling me away? Or an enemy hounding me into a trap? Which one is it? Can you answer me that, because I know you were there, that day? After all, the shadows, that your so well-known for, were my cover on that fateful night.

Those black gloved hands, that I remember for so long ago, giving me comfort, when good dreams and good days were hard to come by, they belong to you too, no? In those memories, you feel nothing like my enemy. It is more, a silent guard, letting me know, that I am safe now, and have nothing more to fear. Not here. Not now. You posed as a silent comfort, whenever my nights grew worse and horrendous, no?

I only remember little of your actual appearance, but I do not think you can fault me for that, when it was your intention, that I would forget you. Though some things, just stood out to me, so that even my mind, heavy and slow, with the drag of exhaustion and sleep could remember those things.

You have a pale face, no? But not in any usual way. Otherwise, I am sure I would have forgotten your face a long time ago. But your lips, were always so pale, almost looking blue. The heavy and deep set bruises around your eyes, that seemed to come and go, like they were not even real, always threw me off too. Maybe, that was part of the reason I thought you as a figment of my imagination, your ever-changing appearance? I always thought you looked like you had been frozen to death, with your pale lashes and black bruises. Other times, I was sure you drowned a long time ago, because of the peculiar way, that your face was covered in splotches, marking you as a victim of suffocation, with your pale hair still dripping with water.

Sometimes, something from the deepest pits of my mind, tells me, that I would look like this, if no one had intervened so long ago. Frozen to death, before I even could achieve anything in my life, helpless to stave off the cold a bit longer, and unable to get to safety. Alas, drowning. If your attendance of me, has been even the least bit watchful, you know of my tendency, to get plunged into the ice-cold water. I fear the depths of a lake the most, I think. Often, I have already experienced how it feels, to slowly lose all air, as the water surface, gets further out of sight. Almost unreachable. I was so often pulled under, that it truly is wondrous that I am not yet, at the bottom of some lake. I even drowned in my own blood. So why do you look like this? Like deaths, I evaded?

Oh, that must truly be ridiculous for you to watch, which I am assuming you are. Your shadows, once one takes note of them, are rather hard to forget again. I am trying to figure out who you are, in a way that consists of piecing bits of interaction, that are still clear in my mind together, without any sense behind it. It is almost like figuring out a puzzle, only I know, that even if I had all the pieces, which I do not, it would still not give me a clear image of who you are, or rather of what you are. It is frustrating to know, that no matter what I do, I will not get closer to my goal. But I still hope, that this letter will at least entice you, to reveal more of yourself to me.

I spoke of it fleetingly, but there is another incident, that I still remember clearly. Can you remember it as well? I think around, that time I first became aware of you, just a thought in the back of mind as of yet, nothing concrete. But at that point, I can still feel your presence there. Maybe I was aware of your first interaction with me after all? I truly think so, because after this incident, something changed. Maybe it, was you? Because at first, I thought, it was just my childish excitement, about having discovered new hope for myself, and yet it was not quite that, no?

Not only your shadows have followed me all my life, there has been something else as well. Now you should know what I am talking about, no? It is the blue tulip, that I am talking about. The one, I am often carrying with me nowadays, courtesy of another friend of mine. I saw it as a child, and by all means, the circumstances were dire, and I should have died, that night. Still, I awoke the next morning, as if nothing had happened at all. Evading the cold in the end, and waking up in my own room again, buried under blankets. Being warm, and in no danger any more to fall victim to the harsh winter.

It was you, who saved me. I am sure of this. It was also your presence, that I could feel, as soon as I returned to the blue tulip again, with nervous energy cursing through me, and curiosity burning away in me. I have to admit at first it had frightened me greatly. The more I became aware of you, the colder it seemed to get, and in the end I had always been chased by you. But I think, I got used towards your presence over time, so much, that it rarely bothers me any more.

I do not know, any more, what I wanted to achieve with this letter. Or even if I have ever had a clear goal in mind, when I started to write. Maybe it was to vent at you? Maybe it simply was to acknowledge your existence? To admit, that you have been there for most of my life, and like I said, it could not go unspoken any more?

No matter my intentions, I think a lot, that needed to be said between us, finally got spoke out aloud. Alas, I hope to hear directly from you once. Not now, maybe not even in the next years, or decades. I do know, how much you love to stay in the shadows, but I still would like to hear from you as well.

Sincerely your charge turned friend

#original fiction #oc

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ericleo108 · 6 years

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🎤 Music Artists’ Composition and Communication

Overt and Subliminal Tactics and Techniques

Intro

This essay is an update of The Collective (Un)conscious in Music & Media. It is more concise and directed in light of newly developed information like ETM, ETM2, The Blue Treatise, etc. As you will come to see there are different forms of linguistics, lyrics, music, imaging and cinematic semantics and mirroring. What we will explore are the various forms those semantics and mirroring portray themselves and try to make sense of what most people don’t even know occurs or exists.

Influence

“If I have seen further it is only by standing on the shoulders of giants.” - Sir Isaac Newton

When we think about music we think of our favorite composers. No matter what genre though your favorite artist got their start learning from someone that came before them. Doing things like learning another artist's songs and what their favorite cords, words, phrases, or metaphors are, will mold the proceeding artist in their image. As with anything familiar, their artistry will be “imprinted” in their mind.

Recognizing Similarities

I will be focusing on hip-hop but as long as I know the proceeding artist I can tell how the succeeding artist has been influenced. For an example, in song, you can tell Avril Lavigne was heavily influenced by Alanis Morissette; just listen to “Head Over Feet” and then “Complicated.” As an example in rap, Asher Roth talks about how he thinks he’s been successful because he sounds like Eminem as described in the track “As I Em.” Those are vocal examples, musically some artists and bands use other band’s work explicitly and deliberately. For example, Crazy Town’s “Butterfly” is just a riff from The Red Hot Chili Peppers “Pretty Little Ditty.”

I heard “Butterfly” when I was in grade school but never knew it was from TRHCP until College. I knew the first time I heard “Pretty Little Ditty” though that it was the same musical riff as “Butterfly.” I’ve shown this to a couple people that have heard both songs and they couldn’t tell it is the same musical progression. If the lay-person doesn’t recognize this, as we go deeper into the human mind, it should become more and more self evident that the similarities between various musical and lyrical associations become harder and harder to see!

Musical Samples

What most people don’t see are music similarities known as “samples” which are small snippets of work from another’s artistry. Some examples of obvious samples are Kid Cudi sampling Lady Gaga’s acoustic version of “Pokerface” in “Make Her Say” or Mac Miller sampling Nas in “Nike’s on my feet.”

Music artists often take a certain sounds and create a whole new musical piece, creating an original work from a classic or a classic from an otherwise unknown original work. Often the sampled classic become a classic. Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long” sampled from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” is a great example.

Musical sampling happens so often certain sounds (and phrases) are considered intellectual property and are copyrighted by the originator. If you do not credit or pay for the rights to use the sampled sound of a copyrighted work the originator can sue for damages. The most quintessential example of this is Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby” and Queen’s “Under Pressure.”

Less noticeably, Mac Miller was sued for "Kool Aid & Frozen Pizza" because he didn’t clear samples from Lord Finesse's 1995 single "Hip 2 Da Game." More famously, controversial, and recent this type of copyright infringement sampling happened to Robin Thicke who “ripped off” Marvin Gaye's 1977 hit "Got to Give It Up" when he wrote the smash hit "Blurred Lines" with Pharrell Williams and T.I.

These examples are either obvious, identifiable, or published in the news because it’s protected and institutions get involved in protecting their property. But to people or the regular person, they can’t tell, don’t care, and/or have no idea (Robin Thicke sampled Marvin Gaye, for example)! ...and why should they?

Understanding Metaphors in Hip-Hop

There are other ways artists share without having to worry about copyright. For example, besides creative commons, in hip-hop, artists use metaphor and samples to communicate in music. The following are common metaphors, themes, tropes, or cliches in hip-hop that are (pretty) universally used (to show talent and ability).

The “Lab” = Producing Hip-Hop, example:

“What, cause I been in the lab, wit a pen and a pad, try’na get this damn label off” - Forgot about Dre by Dr. Dre

“Back to the lab again yo, this whole rhapsody” - Lose Yourself by Eminem

“I be in the Lab” by G-Eazy

“Whipping” it in “the Kitchen,” example:

“Catch me in the kitchen, like a Simmons whippin' pastry” - Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z

“I throw down in the kitchen might hit your mom with my omelette” - Despicable by Eminem

"Woke up in the kitchen and I started mad whippin'" - Whippin' by Gucci Mane

Voltron/Weapons Capabilities of Transformers, example:

“Come on, you know the 'Tics connect like Voltron Collect so much grass, popo thinking we mow lawns.” - Shake Ya Tailfeather by P. Diddy

“But I form like Voltron and blast you with my shoulder missiles” - Just Don’t Give a F#$k by Eminem

"We form like Voltron, and GZA happen to be the head" - Can It Be All So Simple by Wu-Tang

“I'm a beast when you turn me on into the future cybertron” - Boom Boom Pow by The Black Eyed Peas

“Sleep on Me” is so cliche I don’t need any examples.

To identify metaphors you need to be able to recognize certain words and phrases and how they associate to one another. Another factor is the music. Like what is the tone/mood, is it reflecting another work, etc.? If you’d like to know how rappers use and write metaphors watch this video from the pro Novi Novak himself!

Lyrical Samples

There are musical samples but there are also lyrical samples. When it comes to “sampling” you have to be able to recognize patterns! Lyrical sampling is when you take another artist’s cadence (i.e. flow) and make your own (new and original) lyric progression. This typically starts with the first line from the original, sampled lyric followed by original lyrics in the same cadence (flow) as the sampled work. Some examples of sampling are as follows.

Drake samples Dead Prez’s “It’s bigger than Hip Hop” in “Over” starting with the lyric, “One thing bout music when it hit you feel no pain.” G-Eazy samples Kanye West’s “Stronger” in “Let’s Get Lost” starting with the lyric “Let’s get lost tonight.” Rita Ora is sampling Biggie Smalls’s “Party and Bullshit” in “How We Do” ...and 50 Cent’s is sampling 2pac’s “Picture me Roll’n” in “Places to Go.”

Artistic Communication

In music, especially in hip-hop, there is a form of artistic communication in musical, linguistic, and visual mirroring or responding. Sampling is usually a sign of respect and admiration. Some examples of positive linguistic artist communication is how Sublime honors KRS-One in their song “KRS-One,” Royce Da 5’9” honors Eminem in “Lighters,” Eminem honor’s Dr. Dre in “I Need a Doctor,” Taylor Swift honors Tim McGraw in “Tim McGraw,” or The Notorious BIG and Macklemore honors all of hip-hop in “Juicy” and “At the Party” respectively. An example of positive visual communication is how Justin Timberlake honors Michael Jackson posthumously in “Love Never Felt So Good.”

Biting

Biting is when you sample but “flip” the words/sentiment to make them negative or pejorative (i.e. a diss). Biting is more of a competitive condescending back-talk. Biting or negative artistic communication is all too common especially in hip-hop where it’s rampant and (almost) expected. Some historic examples of negative linguistic artist communication are 2Pac’s “Hit Em Up” and The Notorious BIG’s “Who Shot Ya,” Nas’s “Ether” and Jay-Z’s “The Takeover,” Ja Rule’s “Loose Change” and Eminem’s “Hailie’s Revenge.”

A less serious (showboating) example of negative visual artistic communication is how Hopsin makes fun of Tyler The Creator’s “Yonkers” in “Illmind of Hopsin 4.” Then The Game copy’s Hopsin’s look in “Martians Vs. Goblins” and Hopsin “calls-out” The Game for it in “Hop Madness.”

Subliminal Artist Communication

The previous examples in the “Artistic Communication” section were examples of overt artist communication. This makes sense because why would you subliminally honor an artist, if you like or love that fellow artist? You wouldn’t, you’d want to make it known. However, when it comes to biting (in contemporary artistry) the negative communication turns subliminal.

To be explicit, notice how Hopsin makes his communications overt and says the artist’s names and mirrors them while the mainstream artists never official say they are talking to Hopsin although it’s obvious once pointed out. This is done so the bigger mainstream artist (Tyler The Creator and The Game) doesn’t give attention to the independent artist (Hopsin). If you think about it, a mainstream artist gains (almost) nothing by mentioning a smaller independent or underground artist. These are the reasons why I believe subliminal artistic communication overwhelmingly, if not always, is negative and artistic communication between mainstream and independent artists remain subliminal.

Subliminal Examples

Another example of subliminal artist communication is how Immortal Technique’s “Reverse Pimpology” is (in my profession opinion) a response to 50 Cent’s “P.I.M.P.” for reasons that should be/sound obvious in the songs similarity, region, and lyrical insinuation. An example of an obvious but subliminal mainstream negative visual artist communication is when Taylor Swift literally bites Kanye West visually in “Look at What You Made Me Do” by making fun of his bottom row of diamond encrusted gold fronts.

There are other reasons to keep your influences, mirroring, and “artistic theft” hidden and subliminal. Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” famously and controversially came from Madonna’s “Express Yourself.” Bruno Mars definitely is insinuating the word “pleasure” in his song “Treasure” but probably only used that choice of words as to not be restricted from radio or other airplay for being explicit or obscene (because America sees it obscene to give women pleasure). Finally, Eminem’s Despicable is a freestyle over Drake’s “Over” beat and was Eminem’s way of protecting his throne at the top of the chart and showing he was a better artist than Drake who was a threat on the charts and awards at the time when both “Recovery” and “Thank Me Later” were released in the same year.

Eminem’s Subliminals

The most famous example of overt artist communication turned subliminal is between Mariah Carey and Eminem. After Eminem and Mariah Carey were done dating Eminem came out with a few songs mentioning Mariah, notably "Bagpipes from Baghdad." In what can only be deemed as a response Mariah put out "Obsessed" which features a shady character (pun intended) that looks just like Em in a room with posters full of Mariah obviously obsessing over her. Although Mariah never mentioned his name, Eminem responded with "The Warning" where he says "I'm obsessed now? Oh gee, is that supposed to be me in the video with the goatee?" ...which it obviously is.

People saw this subliminal communication and went, “duh” but would you have noticed it if Eminem wouldn’t have responded so overtly? What if you didn’t know who Eminem was? The only reason people see the subliminal communication here is because they are both big name artists, Eminem made it obvious, and the events surrounding the communication were closely connected in time and suspect.

Taylor Swift Visual Sampling Example

We started with auditory sampling and we have now graduated into visual sampling as just discussed starting with the “Biting” section. The most recent and relevant example of visual “sampling” in a music video is to look at what TIME magazine is saying about Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do.” I picked this article TIME wrote about Taylor visually sampling other artists to show it doesn’t get any more normal and mainstream to connect and associate visual similarities and references. For example, TIME talks about what the dollar bill means in Taylor’s bathtub of diamonds and I agree with their assertion.

In other articles there are a lot of people saying that Taylor copied Beyonce because she has a bat in the “bank scene” like Beyonce does in “Hold Up.” I personally see that as a stretch because the bat is an independent association with no other references (to “Hold Up”)! What would strengthen that argument is that people think the V formation in Taylor’s dance scene is actually copying Beyonce’s Superbowl dance formation but that’s a stretch. It’s more likely Taylor is copying the “V” formation for “The Mighty Ducks.” There are other articles about how Taylor’s cage scene is referencing Lindsay Lohan’s “Rumors” but it’s just as likely she reflecting the cage scene from Miley Cyrus’s “Can’t be Tamed.” However, I do agree with the consensus that Taylor is more likely referencing “Rumors” IF she is reflecting either of them at all.

Visual Sampling

The best representation of a similar music video is Nick Jonas’s “Chains” and Jay-Z and Kanye West’s “No Church in the Wild.” The music composition and the visual themes are very similar. They are both shot in widescreen, same style, hue/shade, and have the same props and characters. The music videos are so similar (in fact) I expect that both (music videos) were made by the same creator. They were both made by the same label, Universal Music Group (UMG).

Two other music videos that are also from the same parent label (UMG) and are in the same style, hue, and have the same themes are Taylor swift’s “Trouble” and Eminem’s “Love the Way You Lie.” Demi Lovato’s music video “Sorry Not Sorry” is in the same style and format as “Beauty and the Beat” by Justin Bieber. If you take away the fact that one is in black and white, there’s a lot of similarities between G - Eazy’s “Calm Down” and Drake’s “The Motto” which is unintentional due to the production coming from different labels (UMG and Sony respectively).

Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself

The question becomes what does all this reflecting mean considering it’s coming from the same label, UMG? This isn’t just mindless, random mirroring. There’s a deeper metaphor and narrative that UMG is creating/painting. As discussed in ETM2 it’s like playing balderdash where you have to associate words without using certain words or phrases. In the same respect UMG is playing balderdash with music videos and giving people ideas without their conscious recollections, which is what semantic priming is as discussed in ETM.

For example, we assume Selena Gomez’s character in the song “Hands to Myself,” is in the house of the boy she’s obsessed with, the one with the curly blonde hair. However, Rihanna's song “Stay” could be about the same curly haired blonde boy just over at Rihanna's place singing with her while Selena’s breaking into his place and he shows up to catch her after he leaves Rihanna. The ending scene in “Hands to Myself” could just represent what Selena wishes the reality would be while the actual reality is Selena getting arrested for trespassing. Although confusing, this is plausible, and seems to be a semantic mirroring regardless coming from the same parent label UMG.

To add to the complexity of UMG’s message it seems that Camila Cabello’s “Havana” is (also) intentionally reflecting Selena Gomez’s “Same Old Love.” The music videos are very similar in cadence and composition and at the end of the “Havana” music video Camila says “...if you don’t like my story, go write your own” after, what we can assume to be Selena Gomez, ends up alone.

UMG’s Societal Painting

The point I'm making and the question we must ask ourselves is what message is UMG trying to portray with all these similarities between music videos? What psychological conditions are UMG trying to create with the similarity between “No Church in the Wild” and “Chains,” “Trouble” and “Love the Way You Lie,” and “Beauty and the Beat” and “Sorry Not Sorry.” For example, both Taylor and Eminem have poor romantic reputations and their videos are similarly about the dismantling of love.

Considering The Fascist Capitalist Nazi Ideology journal we can assume the motivation and goal is pejorative. Its seems intuition and common sense would assume UMG is boguarding love and having these artists create their own mental blocks. As I ask in the Leo's Inception journal, why are the majority of these artists not married with a family?

Next Level

To be able to see the aforementioned it’s all about pattern recognition of all the various forms. However, there's a whole nother level in writing lyrics where you say something that sounds similar, imply it, omit it, say it without saying it, or give a double meaning.

An example of a double meaning is Uncle Kracker's “Follow Me.” Is it about love or cocaine? An example of just omitting words is in Eminem’s “Toy Soldier” when he says “I went my whole career without ever mentioning ___.” It’s clear he’s talking about “Suge (Knight)” by the rhyme scheme in relation to his history and what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t say it.

As an example of saying it without saying it (more subtle, but [what should be] just as obvious) is Taylor Swift’s “Picture to Burn.” She says “So go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy. That's fine, You won’t mind if I say... By the way, I hate that stupid old…” It’s obvious she’s implying she's going to “say” he’s “gay” because what else would she tell everybody that’s gonna hurt him and rhymes with say and way?

An example of saying something that sounds similar is when Taylor Swift says “make fun of our axes” in 22. She clearly means “accents.” One of the most famous examples (that’s probably unintentional) is from Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” when she says “I have a long list of ex lovers” because everyone thinks she is really saying “starbucks lovers.”

Some examples of songs that imply what you are saying is Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball.” I swear everyone I tell this to says they see it and can’t get it out of their mind afterwards! In her music video “Wrecking Ball” Miley is naked and crying as it sounds like she’s saying “you Ra-a-aped me.” It’s almost as if the producers of the music video deliberately wanted the listener/viewer to make that connection in their head between her vulnerability, tears, and what it sounds like she’s saying without saying it, and used those similarities to such a tragic event to (balderdash [as discussed in ETM2 and) sell records.

#🎤 Music Artists’ Composition and Communication

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raywritesthings · 6 years

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If They Knew Sweet Little You 6/7

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble, Wilfred Mott, Sylvia Noble, Martha Jones, Mickey Smith, Sarah Jane Smith, Jack Harkness Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna’s dull, regular life is turned upside-down thanks to an incident from the past she can no longer remember. AO3 link

The Doctor lay on his back under the console, his hands for once limp at his sides. He’d thought a spot of maintenance might do both him and the Old Girl some good, but then of course he’d remembered:

“You know, you could fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hotbinding the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary—”

But everything reminded him of Donna these days, which perhaps was a suitable punishment since she couldn’t anymore.

No, the Doctor was not doing well. He went here and there, aimless without anyone to show it all to. Tried to help where he could; didn’t seem to manage half as well without her by his side. Moved on to the next one, repeat.

It was never going to be the same without her. It was never the same without any of his companions, but for some reason with Donna it had been different. Somehow he’d let himself believe her when she promised him forever.

That was the sort of thing that happened when one allowed themself to fall in love, he supposed.

He didn’t recall the last time he’d slept. His own room felt cold and unfamiliar after the nights he’d spent in Donna’s, and that was a place he hadn’t the courage to visit ever again. The sheer sensory overload would be sure to overwhelm him.

And the nightmares were another thing to consider; if he could already picture with perfect clarity Donna’s tearful begging or vacant hello whenever he closed his eyes while awake, what horrors would his subconscious have in store for him?

It wasn’t healthy the way he was going about things, he knew. But he couldn’t find it in himself to go on with the same old life the way he had so many times before. He didn’t want to just find a new companion to invite along, not when he’d lost the truest companion he’d ever had. A best mate in every sense.

He just didn’t know what he was doing anymore.

The relative silence was pierced by a sudden cry. It ripped right through his regular mental defenses without warning, yet his immediate response was not fear of it but fear for it.

It was the cry of a child.

The Doctor felt paralyzed for a long, terrible moment. He’d not experienced something like this in lifetimes. Something was very wrong.

The cry quieted, but that hardly relieved him. Instead, he wrenched himself out from under the console and threw himself on the controls. Before he could even think about coordinates, the TARDIS depressed the input bar with a set already entered.

“You’ve got a lock on it?” The TARDIS hummed back in answer, and something like a smile rose to his face. “Oh, clever Old Girl.”

He ringed around the console more times than perhaps necessary, but he couldn’t help it. For the first time since losing Donna he had a purpose, a destination. Maybe...maybe he could relearn how to do this on his own.

They landed, and the Doctor raced out of the doors onto a very familiar street in Chiswick.

“No, no, no, no, no, not here. It can’t be here!”

He turned back to his ship but didn’t even reach the doors before someone was calling out to him. “Boss?”

The Doctor whirled back around. “Mickey? What are you doing here?”

Sure enough, Mickey Smith was standing in the doorway of Donna’s house. And was that Sarah behind him? Despite his better judgment, he hurried up the path towards them.

“Mr. Mott called us in.”

Of course Wilfred had. “Listen to me. Donna can’t see you, and especially not all at once.”

“Yeah, we know all that,” said Mickey. “It doesn’t matter much right now. She won’t wake up.”

“What?”

“Her family found her unconscious and couldn’t get her to respond,” Sarah Jane explained. “Mr. Mott phoned Martha, and she called the rest of us.”

Had something triggered the defense mechanism? But then how did that explain the child he’d heard, or had the TARDIS steered them wrong again?

“Where is she?” He swept past them into the house. There didn’t appear to be anyone else on the first floor, so he made his way for the stairs only to find his path blocked by the two Smiths.

“Doctor, before you go up there, we just think you ought to know —”

“Whatever it is, Sarah, it can wait until I’ve made sure —”

“Donna’s pregnant,” Martha spoke right over him, standing at the top of the stairs.

He felt his mouth drop open, but there was no sound forthcoming. He couldn’t seem to find his voice. He couldn’t seem to find his balance, either, and he swayed on his feet badly enough that Sarah reached out to catch his arm.

“Doctor?”

“That’s impossible,” he managed. Martha couldn’t possibly be right, unless — “How long?”

“About four months. That’s just before everything with the Daleks.”

It was. Which meant it had happened before she’d gone home. It had happened while she was with him.

“Doctor, are you alright?” Sarah asked.

“Always,” he replied automatically. It barely sounded convincing even to his ears. “She’s still unconscious?”

Martha nodded.

Somehow, he got one foot moving in front of the other up the stairs and met her on the landing. Martha led him down the hall, then stepped aside to give him a clear view into Donna’s room.

She was lying on top of the covers fully clothed, just like the last time. Only, as his eyes trailed over her form, there was one clear difference; a small bump in her abdomen that would only continue to grow. A child, four months developed, and that psychic cry so like his own people...how could this have happened?

Dad shock, Donna had said in the underpassages of Messaline. He thought he understood that now.

Wilfred Mott rose from one of the chairs that had been placed at Donna’s bedside and hurried over to shake his hand.

“Oh, Doctor. Thank goodness you’re here, sir.” Wilf was practically wringing his hand between both his own. “She’ll be alright, won’t she? Donna?”

“What do you think might have brought this on?”

“She was asking about you,” said Sylvia. He turned to her in shock. “Well, ‘John Smith’, but it hardly makes a difference, does it? You should never have let her see you. You should have left before she woke up if this is what was going to happen.”

He stiffened. “She barely registered I was a person. Given enough time she should have forgotten me completely.” He had to look away from Donna’s mother; his pride wouldn’t allow her to glimpse the pain saying that caused him. “Someone else must have been talking to her about me.”

“She did say something about Nerys a while back,” Wilf offered.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh, Nerys.”

“Hey Doc,” said Jack, standing across the room. He had a laptop in his hands and flipped it around to show him what the screen was displaying. “She wasn’t just talking about you.”

The Doctor walked over to him. There was an image paused of him and Donna standing side by side. The wedding dress and “Just Married” banner hanging behind them helped him place it at the reception hall. Of course, there’d been video taken of the wedding. The day they’d first met.

He wheeled back around. “Who let her have this? There’s alien activity all over it. I say my name on it!”

“I don’t know!” Sylvia said. “We never even bought a copy since she ran off and Lance disappeared, the poor man.”

“He was poisoning her and planning to have her fed to a whole colony of Racnoss, and the only reason I consider him a poor man is the fact he ended up with that fate instead,” the Doctor stated bluntly. “So, if we can agree that not everything is your daughter’s fault, Sylvia, that would be lovely.”

“If Donna’s remembered you, then how is she still alive?” Martha asked, seeming to sense an intervention was needed before he and the elder Noble could come to blows.

He turned to her. “No idea. I built in a defense mechanism on the chance she might come across something alien. It might have held, even if it wasn’t meant to withstand this much. I need to see what state her mind is in.”

He took Wilf’s vacant chair and hesitantly raised his hands to Donna’s temples. His eyes closed and he leaned slightly over her, listening, searching. But to no avail.

“I can’t find it.” His eyes reopened. “The metacrisis energy. It’s not gone, it’s just...not in her head anymore.” There was a faint echo; he just needed to follow it. The Doctor slowly shifted down the length of her body. It couldn’t be.

“Well, what does that mean?” Sarah asked for them all.

“It means if I’m lucky, if I’m very very lucky, and the universe really is a kind and a beautiful place…”

His forehead rested ever so slightly on the curve of Donna’s stomach, listening. And he heard just what he’d been hoping for.

He sprung back up. “Oh yes!”

A couple of the others gave startled jolts at the exclamation. “Does he have to shout?” Sylvia complained.

“I hate it when he does that,” said Mickey in commiseration.

“Oi!” He scolded without thinking, then paused. “Blimey, now I’m talking like Donna.” He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at how thoroughly she’d rubbed off on him.

“Okay, but what about Donna, Mister?” Asked Martha. “Is she okay?”

“Yes. Well, probably. Well, it should be almost completely unlikely, but she’s managed that before.”

“Why were you trying to mind read the baby?” Asked Jack. He should’ve realized the immortal would catch that.

“Because that’s where the regeneration energy’s gone. It must have been leaking out of the suppression blocks in Donna’s mind to be absorbed by a different one. Oh, you’re a clever baby, aren’t you? You knew it wasn’t any good for your mum, so you decided to help out.” He took up Donna’s hand in lieu of touching the bump again; he’d not been granted that sort of permission, after all. “Only the energy’s been converted. All the memories and such have been broken down, probably in the transfer back and forth from mother to child. It’s just pure energy now, like food passing through the placenta. Simple, see?”

Mickey shook his head. “Only you would call that simple, Boss.”

“So the child is partially alien?” Asked Sarah Jane. “Martha was having trouble determining that.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The medical equipment wouldn’t display anything,” Martha explained. “You didn’t give Donna a perception filter, did you?”

“No.” The Doctor frowned. There wasn’t a reason the equipment should have acted that way, except — hold on, what was on Donna’s hand?

He looked down. “Oh, the bio damper!”

“What’d she have a bio damper for?” Asked Jack.

“There was a thing a while ago. I forgot to take it back.” He hadn’t even realized she’d kept it, considering he’d never seen her wear it since the wedding. What did it mean that she’d put it on her finger again now?

“But, uh, that’s the source of your trouble, Martha,” he said, attempting to remain focused. “Anything else?”

“I think I’ve followed it nearly. There’s just one thing.” Trust Martha to always have follow up questions. “How was the baby able to safely absorb regeneration energy?”

The Doctor froze.

“Doc?”

Oh. Oh no. Why did he always have to open his mouth and show off?

He was saved, however, as the fingers of the hand he was still holding twitched, and Donna began to stir.

The Doctor held his breath, and it was Wilf who called softly, “Donna?”

Her face scrunched up and she rolled onto her side away from the sound. She’d always loathed waking up in the morning. His hand, however, she dragged with her, and the Doctor quickly had to brace his other palm on the mattress to avoid overbalancing and falling on top of her.

Donna was blinking in confusion at their twined fingers. Her face slowly tilted back and up to meet his eyes. The spark of recognition there alone was enough to undo him, but he tamped down on his emotions. Donna knew who he was, which meant she remembered everything, including what had last happened. What he’d done.

“Er, hello.”

Donna stared up at him for a long time, expression unreadable. “Oh. You’re here. Good.”

The Doctor hardly dared believe he’d heard right. “Good?”

“Yeah.” Donna’s eyes narrowed. “It saves me the trouble of tracking you down across the bloody galaxy and eliminating your ‘risk factor’ permanently!”

“Donna, I’m —”

“So help me if the next word out of your mouth is ‘sorry’,” she warned, sitting up and pushing him away hard enough he fell back into the chair and nearly toppled it. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”

“No,” he answered honestly, eyes on his trainers. “No, I don’t.”

“Two years of my life gone. I start getting the worst headaches ever. Then I find out I’m flipping pregnant, and the fun thing there was I couldn’t actually remember having sex! No idea who the father was, no idea if I’d even wanted to sleep with him. Thought I must have blacked out at a pub or had something put in my drink. Got tested and everything.”

The Doctor looked at her with dismay but couldn’t seem to find his voice. He’d never intended for her to have to go through something like that. She must have been terrified.

Donna wasn’t done, however. “And of course everyone in the neighborhood thinks I’m some sort of tart now. That’s been fun. I start remembering you, only my family keeps telling me I’ve got it wrong. I didn’t know if I was going mad or what! But you know the worst part?”

He didn’t have an answer.

“Something was wrong with my baby. Nobody could figure it out. I don’t know how many specialists I saw. Somebody called Martha in,” she said, throwing an arm out towards the woman in question for emphasis. “She didn’t know either. I’m going spare thinking there’s something wrong with me or that I somehow otherwise screwed up the development of my child, when really it’s just part alien!”

At a less serious time, he might have pointed out that having a human for a mother did not, in fact, make the baby an alien of this planet, but Donna deserved far better than cheek.

“Donna, I — I won’t say I’m sorry. Because you’re right, it won’t do anything. There’s nothing I can do to make up for what you’ve been through. If I’d known —”

“I did try to phone you,” Martha interrupted. “You had the mobile off.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. “I didn’t — I couldn’t see any of you after what happened. I knew you’d ask where Donna was, and I just — I just wasn’t —”

“How long’s it been?” Donna asked, her voice much softer than before.

“Two years, I think. I wasn’t really keeping track. Wasn’t really doing anything. It was just useless.”

“You should’ve found someone.”

“No.” He looked up to see Donna blink in surprise. How did she still not understand? Replacing her wasn’t even an option.

She was frowning again. “I never asked you to go on punishing yourself once I’d gone!”

“You weren’t planning on going!”

“Well, I’m not gonna kid myself. My head’s gonna start burning any minute, isn’t it? Don’t know why it hasn’t already!”

“Er, actually, you’re fine,” said Sarah Jane.

“What?”

“Yeah, the Doc says the baby took care of it somehow,” said Jack, giving him a look that the Doctor pointedly ignored.

Donna looked down and rested her hand on her stomach. “You did that for mummy?”

The Doctor felt the stirrings of something warm inside watching them. Donna and the baby. He’d never even imagined.

Her head raised again. “It’s not hurting the baby now, is it?”

He gave a shake of the head. “No.”

Donna appeared visibly relieved to hear it. She kept looking at him, though. “So how did I end up with a baby if we’re not supposed to be compatible?”

“What’s he got to do with it?” Sylvia demanded sharply, and he and Donna both blanched. “Donna, you’re not saying that — that he’s—”

He stood and turned to face the others. “I am,” the Doctor said, deciding to just get it over with. What did Donna always say? Oh right, this was so shaming.

“Oh, my God,” Martha breathed. Sarah Jane was gaping, and Jack and Mickey were both eyeing him with shock and possibly a bit of amusement. He supposed he deserved that.

“Well — well, that’s wonderful!” Wilfred alone was smiling, practically beaming ear to ear.

“It is not wonderful!” Sylvia was glaring at him. “You got my daughter pregnant and then dumped her on my doorstep.”

“He didn’t know, mum,” Donna interjected wearily. “Humans aren’t supposed to be able to carry Time Lord babies.”

“So how come Donna can?” Mickey asked.

“It’s complicated,” the Doctor said. He was only putting it all together himself, after all, and he’d want to examine both Donna and the baby more closely to be sure.

“No, please, don’t spare the details.” Jack was practically leering now. “How does a Time Lord get a human pregnant?”

Donna had her face in her hands, and Sylvia looked about ready to burst a vein.

“I can just relay it to Martha and Donna’s family if the rest of you can’t behave,” he warned.

“Oh, sure, lump us all in with Cheesecake,” said Mickey. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Really, we’re not all the Captain,” Sarah Jane agreed.

“Alright, alright! Best behavior, I promise,” said Jack, his hands raised in surrender. “How come Martha gets a free pass?”

“Obstetrician, remember?” Said Martha. “Sort of need to know how this works.”

“Right, well the important thing is that Gallifreyans require certain developmental needs that a human normally can’t provide,” the Doctor said, deciding to just get it over with.

“So conception can be possible, but not gestation?”

“Well, no one ever really tried it before, but yeah. There’s biological components and mental components — a telepathic link between the baby and at least the parent carrying it is required to sustain life. Ordinarily impossible for Donna to achieve, but then the metacrisis happened.”

“Donna became part Time Lord,” Sarah Jane realized.

He nodded. “Right. The sudden influx of regeneration energy must have found a fertilized egg and stimulated growth and development. As long as the conception was recent enough, it’s possible.”

“How recent?”

“Jack!”

“If you try to ask when and where we shagged one more time, I’ll throw you out myself!” Donna snapped.

“Sorry,” said Jack, and he did at least look a little contrite. “If the baby needed a telepathic link with Donna, why didn’t you notice it when you suppressed her memories?”

“It must not have formed yet. Oh! Your headaches!” He spun back around on his heels to face Donna. “That must have been the baby trying to reach out. It’s instinct, couldn’t have known any better. Then once the link was established, the regeneration energy could pass back and forth between you, letting the baby grow and you start to remember.”

“But how did a link get made?” She asked. “I’m not actually telepathic.”

“Well, you might be.”

She stared at him. “I’m still part Time Lord?”

“It’s a little hard to determine when there’s a part Time Lord growing inside you,” he admitted. “But any ill-effects of the metacrisis seem to be gone, at least.”

“At least?” Sylvia echoed. “What have you done to my daughter? You said you fixed it!”

“Well, it was a rubbish fix!” Said Donna. “I’d rather be part Time Lord than an amnesiac!” She turned her frown on him. “You got that? I’m not going back this time.”

The Doctor had to bite back the automatic apology that was on the tip of his tongue. “Okay,” he agreed quietly instead.

But rather than look satisfied, Donna appeared to falter. Her gaze went back to the small bump in her belly.

“I would have killed it. If you’d done what I asked the first time. I would have killed the baby.” Her eyes welled up with tears, and Donna pressed a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, my own baby!”

“Donna, Donna no,” he said, taking up her other hand. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known, alright? We both thought it was impossible.”

She was still crying, and he couldn’t bear it. Before he could reconsider, the Doctor bent forward and did his best to wrap her in a hug. Donna didn’t push him away this time; she pulled him down, so he was half-sitting on her bed and went right into his arms. He could feel tears of his own trying to escape. He’d never thought to hope that he’d be holding her again someday, yet here she was.

The Doctor rubbed her back and pressed his lips to her forehead, choosing to forget they had an audience for the meantime.

“The baby’s fine. Better than fine. And it’s all thanks to you. Without the regeneration energy from you touching the hand, the baby never would’ve been able to develop, to grow. You saved her, and then she saved you.”

Donna stopped sniffling abruptly. “She?”

He met her wide-eyed gaze. “Oh. Well, she seems fairly decided on that. You never know, though, she might change her mind.”

Donna didn’t pay much mind to that. Instead, the tiniest smile came to her face. “We’re having a daughter?”

The Doctor was rendered speechless for a moment. They were having a daughter. Donna still wanted him to be a part of this?

Someone gave a polite cough into their hand; a glance over the shoulder confirmed it to be Sarah.

“Perhaps you’d like a moment alone?”

The Doctor and Donna looked at each other, then nodded. Their friends dutifully filed out of the room. Sylvia, however, proved to be more difficult.

“It’s my house. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Mum,” Donna groaned.

Wilfred was trying as well. “Sylvia, love, it’s what Donna wants.”

A loud knock from downstairs looked to settle the matter. Donna’s mother got up with a grumble to go see who it was.

Wilf was now the only one left. “It’s good to have you both back,” he told them. “And a baby! It really is wonderful.”

“Dad, it’s Winston!” Sylvia’s voice called. “He says he’s found your box!”

Wilf gave a start. “Oh, that’ll be — yeah, I had them all on the lookout for you, Doctor. Suppose I better go get that sorted. It’s all fine now.” He left with a last smile in their direction.

A heavy silence settled over the two of them, uncomfortable in how unusual it was. The Doctor eventually moved to get up, only for Donna to grab at his arm.

“You don’t have to move. I don’t want you to move.”

“You’re not angry?” He couldn’t help asking.

Donna shrugged. “What can I really be angry about? If you hadn’t done it then this one wouldn’t be here right now.” They both looked down at her belly again. “I’m alright, the baby’s alright, you haven’t gone off and gotten yourself killed somewhere. Best I can hope for, really.”

He was having to bite down on his tongue to keep from telling her how sorry he was; for what he’d done, both intentionally and not, and for how much better she deserved than all of it.

“Did you want to have a go?”

The Doctor blinked. Donna huffed and gestured to her baby bump.

“Oh. If that’s alright with you.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, pretty sure. She is half yours.” She’d taken his hand and now laid it on her stomach with hers resting on top.

The presence he’d felt only twice before reached out the moment contact was made. It was such an old sensation it practically felt brand new. He hadn’t gotten this with Jenny due to her unique circumstances. He hadn’t expected to ever have this again.

“If you want her, I mean,” Donna added softly.

The Doctor looked up. “Want her?”

“Well, I know you said you hadn’t really considered the idea of being a father again.”

“Yeah, and what else did I say?”

Heavy footfalls came up the stairs, and they both looked as Mickey appeared in the doorway. “Boss, it’s UNIT. Pretty sure they figured out Martha was lying.”

He felt Donna’s hand curl around his more tightly. “What have they got to do with it?”

“Well, I suppose they think you’re carrying some alien’s baby — and they’re not wrong.” With regret, he took his hand off her stomach, the little spark of connection going quiet. That was alright; after all the excitement, his daughter probably needed a rest.

“It’ll be alright, though? Once they know it’s yours.”

He grimaced. “I’d rather not test it.” Just as likely, his old employer might merely feel more entitled to stick their noses in. The Doctor stood. “Stay here. Mickey, you too.”

The other man gave a nod. “Right, Boss.”

He didn’t quite make it to the door before Donna got off the bed and caught up. “Spaceman!”

He couldn’t help stopping with a smile at hearing her nickname for him.

“If you think you’re going down there alone, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Donna, I don’t want to risk it —”

“What, UNIT’s worse than the Daleks now?”

“Yes.”

Donna gave him a look of clear disbelief.

The Doctor placed his hands on her waist, his thumbs framing the slight bump. So small, so fragile. “I’ve got more than the universe to worry about this time. I have my family.”

He kissed her before he could stop himself, but Donna’s hands in his hair and her mouth moving against his seemed to indicate that stopping wasn’t what she wanted from him at all. The Doctor had never really forgotten what this felt like, but memories couldn’t hold up to the real thing. Oh, he could stay here forever if he wasn’t careful.

When stopping did become required for breathing purposes, the Doctor allowed himself to look at her. She’d never been more beautiful, and that was saying something. That wisdom and compassion and tenderness back in her eyes, her cheeks practically glowing, and their child growing safe inside her. For them, he would do anything.

But that wasn’t what Donna wanted. She’d never wanted him to go to extremes for her. And he couldn’t, not because he wouldn’t, but he didn’t want to be that man anymore. He didn’t want to end the day alone on the TARDIS because of something he’d done to push her away.

“I can’t lose you again,” he confessed. “Either of you.”

Donna touched a hand to his cheek and waited for him to look her in the eye. “You’re not going to. But only if we do this together, Spaceman. That’s what a family is.”

Every instinct, everything he’d learned since he’d first run from his home and certainly once war had come to it, said this was not the way to do things. But Donna was right; this wasn’t about just him. He needed to listen to her instincts, too, and considering the fair number of times they’d been right that wasn’t a hardship. These last few years had proved just how much he couldn’t do this without her anymore.

The Doctor drew in a breath and nodded. Then he raised his head to look right at Mickey.

“Anything happens, you get them out of here.”

The other man nodded. “You got it.”

Donna rolled her eyes, but seemed to accept the precaution for the sake of the baby if nothing else. “Probably shouldn’t keep them waiting if we want things to go alright.” She brushed past him out into the hall but waited at the top of the steps for him to join her.

Despite the uncertainty of what awaited them downstairs, the Doctor couldn’t help a smile as her fingers brushed against his.

Whatever happened, she was by his side again.

#doctor x donna #ten x donna #tenth doctor #donna noble #doctor who #the doctor #my writing

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