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#transmissions from lyric

jennyfromthebes · 7 days

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life advice from the mountain goats:

- lie to the cops

- watch for the signs and learn how to read

- let all the lights blaze, keep your heart light, play really loud music all hours of the night

- do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive, do every stupid thing to try to drive the dark away

- life is too short to refrain from eating jam out of the jar

- steal what you need

- bring back some blurry pictures to remember all your darker moments by

- read all about it on the wikipedia page

- don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light, and stay alive, just stay alive

- make it through this year

#txt #transmissions from lyric #the mountain goats #tmg #a version of this one has been sitting in my discord notes for like two months #yes these are all actual lines from songs and im sure theres more but. thats what ive got

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stormy-river · 1 year

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Transcripts from the Humanity Hotline 6

I usually put words up here... huh... what to say... (Thanks for all the continued support on this silly little project of mine)

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Operator: "Hi, my name is Mindy. How may I help you today?"

Caller 1: "Greetings, Mindy. We've had a human on board for a while now, and everything has seemed fine so far, but a few minutes ago I passed by his workstation and he was listening to music, and I heard some of the words in the song and now I'm concerned for the safety of my ship and crew. I don't dare repeat what I heard, but it was about a violent mutiny."

O: "Alright, this has happened a few times before. For now, I don't think you have anything to worry about, but I would like to get some more information before ending the call."

C1: "I will provide whatever I can."

O: "Great, I don't think this will take long. Do you know what the name of the song is? Or if not, can you ask the human?"

C1: "I don't know the name, but Phil should be on break, and I can add him to the call if that is alright."

O: "Sounds good."

Caller 2: "Hey, Captain! What's up? Who's on the other line?"

C1: "Greetings, Phil. This is Mindy, and we are discussing a concern I have from earlier."

O: "Hi! It's Phil, right? I'm Mindy from the Humanity Hotline. I have a couple questions for you."

C2: "Oh... what did I do this time?"

O: "Don't worry, I have a feeling it's a misunderstanding. I'm told you were listening to music earlier. Is there a specific song or playlist you were listening to?"

C2: "Um, a pop playlist I made a few weeks back."

O: "Is 'Tricked-Out Ships' on this playlist?"

C2: "Yeah, it's a banger. How'd you know?"

O: "Just a hunch. Have you listened to the lyrics?"

C2: "Eh, not really. They're kinda lost in the music, right? Should I look them up or something?"

O: "Please do."

[Approx. 3 minutes removed for lack of necessity.]

C2: "This.. is awful. The song is ruined."

C1: "You mean to tell me that humans will listen to music without knowing what they are listening to?"

O: "Not every human, and not every song, but it does happen surprisingly often."

C1: "Interesting. Thank you for your help, Mindy."

C2: [rustling and humming sounds]

O: "Happy to help. Is everything alright, Phil? There's some static or something."

C2: "Oh, it's paper. I'm writing new lyrics so I can enjoy the song again."

End Transmission

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans and aliens #humanity hotline

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 11 months

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IOTA Reviews: Transmission and Deflagration (The Kwamis' Choice)

Well, it only took until almost halfway through the fifth season, but we're finally getting a two-part episode that isn't a season finale. There have been a few episodes I think could have benefited from having an extra part, like “Cat Blanc”. So obviously, after all this time, there has to be a reason for putting a two-parter here. The story told here has to be big. It has to be huge. It has to be something that will alter the very way we see the plot and these characters, and—it's more Love Square stuff. God dammit...

Let's get into the tenth and eleventh episodes of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Transmission and Deflagration

“Transmission” starts with Marinette having another depressive episode, which seems to be worse than usual, with her offering her Miraculous to Tikki so she can choose someone else. While Tikki tries to remind her of all the good she's done as Ladybug as footage from earlier episodes plays, Marinette points out how she's a terrible Ladybug, once again referencing how she lost the Miraculous because of her feelings for Adrien.

Tikki: You’re overreacting, Marinette!

Marinette: Really? Then, how come I lost the Miraculous I was entrusted with all because of love? Love only ever causes problems. I’ll never fall in love again! Love is weak! And I can’t be sad about it; otherwise, I might get akumatized!

Okay, this is just getting ridiculous. We're ten episodes into the season, and whenever Marinette brings up her failure at the end of the last season, it's the same song and dance: She feels guilty about it, she needs someone to try and make her feel better, and she doesn't change anything about the way she and Cat Noir operate. If it isn't that, it's a complete strawman or character who we know already hates Ladybug like Chloe or Lila calling out Marinette for her failure specifically so any negative feedback she gets can be easily brushed aside. The whole point of a hero having to comprehend a major failure is to see how they deal with the consequences to their actions and find a way to improve to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. If Marinette came up with new ways to strategize with Cat Noir, or seriously reevaluate the way she sees Adrien that isn't just brushed aside, I'd get it. Instead, all she does is whine about how much her life sucks over and over, which is the same problem I've had with Adrien for the past few seasons.

And once again, for a show with the lyrics “The power of love always so strong” in its opening, it seems like the writers want to make a bigger point in favor of showing how love can only ruin things. Yes, getting emotional can cause someone to make more impulsive decisions, but at the same time, feelings of love and kindness can get good results, like Ellen Ripley's maternal instincts motivating her to save Newt in Aliens. The problem is that we never get a lot of arguments as to how love can benefit the heroes, not only when we see how much it screws up Ladybug and Cat Noir's partnership, but once again, how Marinette's romantic feelings for someone led to her greatest failure. The closest we get to an argument in favor of love is whenever Marinette and Adrien's friends try to make their OTP come together without considering if it would actually make things better or not.

Speaking of which, after the episode's obligatory pointless Chloe line that's only there so Selah Victor can pay her rent that week, Ms. Bustier asks Alya to deliver Marinette's homework to her, only for Nino to convince her to have Adrien do it instead. Somehow, she thinks this minor favor will help Marinette and Adrien realize their true feelings for each other. Because it's not like Alya learned that she shouldn't choose who she thinks Marinette would be best with last episode, right?

Marinette and Adrien talk and it seems like they're starting to grow a little closer, but Tikki and Plagg panic, trying to intervene so they don't know each other's identities. The attempt fails, but Marinette kicks Adrien out anyway. It's a pretty somber scene, so let's cut to something stupid instead, like Marinette and Adrien's classmates throwing a party under the assumption that Adrien simply delivering something to Marinette means they'll get together now.

All of you are really gunning for the Biggest Idiot Award today, aren't you?

Of course, even though she went along with one of these weird “force Marinette to do something she doesn't want to” schemes before in “Crocoduel”, Zoe seems to be the only one with a smidgen of common sense.

Zoe: Alya, did you hear Marinette’s voicemail message?

Alya: Yeah, but that was before, Zoe.

Zoe: “Before”? Before what?

Alya: Before when Marinette was a complete wreck.

Nino: But Alya sends her the perfect mechanic.

Alya: Adrien!

Nino: He’s fixing her up as we speak.

Rose: Wow! When they come back to school, they’ll finally be an item!

Marc: A perfect plan!

Zoe: But... you guys don’t actually know for sure.

Alya: Trust me. This is it this time!

I'm starting to think that maybe Marinette should reconsider who she chooses to be temp heroes once she gets the Miraculous back.

Adrien starts crying as he leaves Marinette's place, which attracts the attention of Monarch... who then immediately backs out as soon as he senses him, transforming back into Gabriel. Meanwhile, Tikki and Plagg discuss Marinette and Adrien's situation.

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them.

Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength.

Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction.

Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do?

Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must... free them of us.

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Yep. This is the titular Kwamis' choice. They seriously think that Marinette and Adrien's romantic problems are more important than them being superheroes, so their best option is to just take away their Miraculous even though Monarch still has fifteen more of them. I'd be more forgiving if this was towards the beginning of Marinette and Adrien's superhero careers, but this is Season 5, where the stakes have never been higher thanks to Monarch's arsenal. Oh yeah, I also forgot to mention that MARINETTE IS STILL THE FUCKING GUARDIAN, AND TAKING AWAY HER MIRACULOUS DOESN'T CHANGE A THING! IT'S NEVER EVEN MENTIONED IN EITHER EPISODE, SO HOW THE HELL DO YOU FORGET SOMETING THAT IMPORTANT?!?!

It doesn't even make sense that only now are Tikki and Plagg against Marinette and Adrien actually getting together when they were never shown to have any problems with it in earlier seasons, and just last episode, Plagg encouraged Adrien to go after Marinette after doing so as Cat Noir didn't work out. It comes across as the writers struggling to come up with new ways to have opposition to the Love Square, even if this idea somehow leads to a minuscule amount of progress in that department. Yeah, you figure that out...

Also, it's pretty weird how after four and a half seasons of Marinette suffering from the burden of being Ladybug, only now does Tikki decide to relieve her of that responsibility, but only because of how it affects her love life.

We get another scene showing how stupid Marinette and Adrien's friends are as they talk about how happy Marinette and Adrien must be now, interspersed with scenes of Marinette and Adrien crying their eyes out. Just like that one scene in “Evolution”, I don't get the setup. Is this meant to be a joke, or a serious moment? After Nathalie takes a call for Adrien telling Nino that he can't be bothered at the moment, Gabriel comes into the room to comfort him, giving him an Alliance ring in the process.

Tikki and Plagg talk to their respective holders and tell them how they feel that the burden of being heroes is crushing them. Marinette and Adrien obviously bring up the situation with Monarch, but as soon as their Kwamis mention that not being superheroes means that they can pursue their love lives with no stress, they immediately take off their Miraculous and give them back. After five seasons that this episode confirmed happened just under a year, and this is what causes them to give up their Miraculous: a bad case of heartache. We're supposed to see this as the breaking point that causes the two to not want to be superheroes ever again? They don't consider the innocent lives that could be in danger, or the fact that this heavy burden will most likely be forced on two new and inexperienced schmucks who will struggle even more than they did thanks to Monarch possessing powers of the other fifteen Miraculous.

I'm sorry, but I don't see this as an emotional scene. All I see is what I saw with Adrien in “Kuro Neko”: these characters simply giving up because of how much they're prioritizing their personal feelings over the lives of others. If this was something Marinette and Adrien came up with and made an agreement to quit at the same time (even choosing their own replacements), I'd sort of get it, as they'd at least be on the same terms, but neither of them ever learn the other quit until later on in the episode.

After Adrien breaks down even more, we learn that the whole reason Gabriel hesitated to akumatize Adrien the last time was because he didn't have an Alliance ring on, so now that he does, he's taking a mulligan. However, the Akuma is stopped at the last minute when Adrien sees the homework he was supposed to give Marinette, so he runs off as his negative emotions fade. Instead, Monarch chooses to akumatize someone else with five different Alliance rings.

Monarch: Rejoice, dear Kwamis! Five Alliances enables as many Miraculous powers to transfer at the same time! This villain promises to be exceptional! (laughs manically)

Pretty sure you hyped up Style Queen the same way three seasons ago, yet you still didn't get the Miraculous then, so I wouldn't gloat too soon.

The next scene with Marinette and Adrien is actually a really nice one. Marinette starts stuttering as usual when she tries to talk, but Adrien comes up with another idea: He'll ask a series of yes or no questions, and Marinette can raise her right or left hand to answer them. Adrien asks Marinette about her feelings for him, and Marinette accidentally answers no before changing her mind. Before Adrien leaves, he asks Marinette if she wants to spend more time with him in the future, to which she accepts. This scene was handled really well, and nothing really felt forced here.

Back with Alya, she and the others are once again coming up with a plan to get Marinette and Adrien together (because none of them have lives outside of the Love Square, I guess), when Nora suddenly calls.

Nora: Geez, sis! You never pick up the phone when I like, actually need your advice!

Alya: I couldn’t pick up. I’m at school!

Nora: Yeah, right. So, you see, I had no choice but to deal with it myself.

Alya: Oh, no... Nora. I told you before, you gotta talk before you act!

Nora: Yeah, but I did talk, like, I said stuff in front of Kouki's bros.

Alya: Nora! Not “talk” like that!

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Yeah, outside of a few references to Nora trying to call Alya earlier in the episode, I didn't skip anything here. We're just thrown into this plot with little to no explanation as to what's going. What Nora and this Kouki guy were arguing about, much less what Nora said to his friends is never explained. I don't even known if they're supposed to be in a relationship or not. It's not like in “Sandboy” or “Oblivio” where the motivation for how the person got akumatized was only explained near the end of the episode. The episode acts like we're supposed to know who Kouki is and why he and Nora are fighting when this is the first time Kouki has ever appeared on this show.

As the conversation goes on, Tikki chooses Alya to be the new wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and Plagg chooses Zoe to be the new wielder of the Cat Miraculous. Okay, outside of Zoe being the only one in this episode who isn't a complete idiot, I can see why Plagg would choose her, since she has experience as a superhero, and her identity wasn't exposed. As for Tikki choosing Alya? Yeah, Alya did a good job as Scarabella in “Hack-San”, but she doesn't mention that A) She and Cat Noir still needed Marinette's help to stop Robustus, and B) Alya's already had her identity exposed twice, to the point where she was the one to suggest she not be trusted with one before Marinette lost the other fifteen Miraculous at the end of the last season. Alya's not a bad hero, but these factors don't exactly make her an ideal successor to Ladybug. Also, it's pretty dumb how the whole reason Marinette and Adrien quit was for romantic reasons, yet the whole reason Alya blew her cover last season was for romantic reasons (Rocketear).

Back with Adrien and Marinette, the former plans to leave, but is interrupted by the akumatized form of Kouki, named Kikou.

Kikou's design is... I mean, it's not terrible, I guess? Putting aside the fact that this is the second Akuma in the series to go with the “black boxer” stereotype (who is also a dumb brute like Anansi was), the gold jewelry is a decent touch, and it makes sense that he has the five Alliance rings to show off his wealth. As for his powers, because he has five rings, he has five different powers, the Tiger Miraculous' Clout to power his Gum-Gum Pistol-esque punches, the Turtle Miraculous' Shelter to protect his head where the Akuma is obviously hiding, the Horse Miraculous' Voyage to move around quickly and make up for his size hindering his speed, the Ox Miraculous' Resistance to protect the aforementioned Shelter, and the Mouse Miraculous' Multitude to clone himself with. This is the Akuma that really made me realize that the gimmick of every Akuma this season having the powers of whatever Miraculous Monarch gives them is just an excuse to half-ass writing any new Akuma powers in favor of the same fifteen abilities the other Miraculous have.

Kikou attacks the city, but Alya transforms into Scarabella, soon being joined by Zoe, AKA, Kitty Noire.

Kitty Noire's design is... pretty weird, all things considered. The green lipsick just doesn't look that good, I don't get the green hair extensions, and why are they eyes like that when even Lady Noire's eyes stayed green? At the very least, the hair looks marginally better than Catwalker's, and I like the detailing on the suit itself.

While Scarabella and Kitty Noire quickly get to know each other, Marinette and Adrien get used to being civilians again pretty quickly as they watch them fight off Kikou, the two new heroes struggling to keep up with Kikou's five Miraculous powers. Of course, Marinette and Adrien only look mildly concerned, not even regretting their choices in the slightest.

Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen.

Scarabella uses her Lucky Charm, getting a parachute, which is totally different from the kind used in the final episode of the first episode. Scarabella and Kitty Noire taunt Kikou, Scarabella drawing Kikou's fire while Kitty Noire recruits a bunch of firefighters, who then get some paint from the art store Socqueline runs. The firefighters then load the paint into their truck's hose, which is then used to fill up the parachute. Kitty Noire cuts the rope, and the paint blinds Kikou, and as soon as he deactivates his shield, Scarabella breaks his headgear, freeing the Akuma.

Scarabella de-evilizes the Akuma, sort of helps Kouki and Nora make up, uses Miraculous Scarabella to fix all the damage, while Marinette and Adrien compliment the new heroes from afar before promising to meet up at school tomorrow.

The first episode ends with Gabriel's Alliance recording the unusual data in two Alliances, meaning that Scarabella and Kitty Noire's identities have already been exposed... even though Tikki should have known this since “Jubiliation”. Yeah, you all know where this is going.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... TIKKI

While the competition was tough, Tikki was able to get the win for going along with this asinine plan in the first place that prioritized the personal feelings of two people over the fact that Monarch was at his most dangerous. Not only that, she forgot Marinette was still the Guardian, she forgot that Alya's identity was already exposed twice, and that even if she didn't know the Alliance rings were a front for Monarch's plan, forgot that these hi-tech rings track the everyday movements of its users, not even telling Plagg this before he chose Zoe.

The second part, “Deflagration”, immediately starts off with Kitty Noire saying that Ladybug and Cat Noir have nothing to feel guilty about even though they essentially abandoned Paris when Ladybug was shown to be getting backlash for her failure, but of course, that isn't mentioned here.

Kitty Noire: We’ll accomplish our mission just like they did, because the goal we all share is to defeat Monarch, isn't it?

News Reporter: Or perhaps Ladybug and Cat Noir renounced their mission so they could finally live their love story?

Scarabella: They were never in love or in a relationship, and neither are we.

Kitty Noire: (in a flirtatious tone) So far anyway!

I'd make a “The Ambiguously Gay Duo” joke here, but we all know Alya is already in a relationship.

Alya and Marinette meet up, the former congratulating her successor on another great job. The two talk about Adrien, and Alya once again encourages Marinette to focus more on pursuing a relationship with him, no doubt planning another stupid party in her mind.

We then get a scene that actually reminds the audience that Chloe and Zoe are supposed to be sisters. I understand if you might have forgotten, but don't worry. I'm pretty sure the writers did too. Of course, I think the writers might be running out of new ways to make Chloe mean to someone, because this time, she just yells at Zoe for being near her and not being in the “half-of-a-sister zone”. In order to appease her sister and make sure she doesn't call their mom, Zoe offers to wash all of Chloe's shoes. Plagg talks to Zoe about possibly standing up to her sister.

Plagg: How about I Catacylsm that sister of yours instead?

Zoe: It’s pointless, Plagg.

Plagg: Zoe, you can't let them treat you that way; no one speaks to me like that! Just ask the T-rexes... That is, if you can find one! Because they're not so smug anymore now, are they?

Zoe: It’s best to stay out of trouble in this family if I'm going to protect my secret identity.

Plagg: You start by giving up cheese, and then you end up giving up on dignity, freedom, and justice!

Zoe: I feel like you like to blow things out of proportion, don't you?

Plagg: Yes... especially when I’m starving.

Talking about standing up to your mean sister, contemplating murder while casually discussing genocide. Same thing, right?

We cut to Gabriel, who's over the moon about the recent revelation regarding Scarabella and Kitty Noire, even dancing a little. He tells Nathalie and heads to his lair to plan his next scheme, but not before chatting with Emilie's body once again. Gabriel transforms into Monarch and gives himself the powers of the Bee, Mouse, Rooster, Ox, and Horse Miraculous, traveling to the school himself.

Meanwhile, we cut to the Resistance, where we see Max has set up a system where, through the use of the Alliance rings and their phones, the members can alert the school to whenever there's an active Akuma... even though one of the features included in the Alliance includes an Akuma alert (Multiplication), and there's also been an Akuma alarm since Season 2 (Riposte). So once again, this brave and totally important Resistance has contributed absolutely nothing. Okay, there are some other parts, like some of the members planning to fight off the Akuma with paintball guns if there's no other option. You know, this is proof that this show takes place in France, because if this was America, they would most likely have actual guns.

At lunch, Marinette and Adrien get closer, to which Lila uses as an opportunity to manipulate Chloe into trying to break up the moment, but not before we get a joke where Chloe needs Alliance to define the word “generous”. Okay, I'm not sure if the joke was that Chloe is so selfish, she doesn't know the meaning of the word, or if the writers are now resorting to using “dumb blonde” jokes for Chloe now, which totally isn't a cliche that was overused twenty years ago to the point where there was an entire movie starring Reese Witherspoon made to subvert it. Either way, NOT FUNNY, DIDN'T LAUGH.

Chloe tries to ruin the moment by telling Adrien Marinette is in love with him, but he's not having any of that. She tries telling jokes that are supposed to be unfunny, they're funny, but it lacks the charm of something like Hank Hill attempting to tell “yo mama” jokes. Zoe stands up to Chloe, which pisses her off so much, she willingly accepts an Akuma from Monarch (currently invisible thanks to the Rooster Miraculous), turning into Sole Destroyer.

Sole Destroyer is... wow... Just... WOW... they didn't even try with this one. At least Miracle Queen made sense as an upgrade to Queen Wasp, but this? They literally just took Sole Crusher, whose design resembling Chloe made sense thematically in that episode, gave her a new pair of sunglasses, some more gemstones and spikes, and made her eyes glow as if she was a character in an episode of The Nostalgia Critic. Why go to this effort to make a new Akuma when so little is done with the new design? Wouldn't it make sense to bring back Antibug, given Chloe has been against Ladybug since the end of Season 3? As for Sole Destroyer's powers, it's just Sole Crusher's magic kicks, only instead of growing bigger in size after absorbing each victim and making her more of a threat, they transform into singing shoes. You know, guys, it just dawned on me how... how weird this show is. Kinda goofy...

Alya and Zoe attempt to transform, but Monarch, using a combination of the Mouse, Bee, and Rooster Miraculous' powers, stuns the two and steals the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous from them. Plagg attempts to Cataclysm Monarch, but Monarch uses Resistance to block it, immediately going to unify. Before the process can be completed, both Tikki and Plagg use Lucky Charm and Cataclysm respectively, Tikki summoning a trash can with the side effect of creating a new Eiffel Tower, and Plagg destroying the Cat Miraculous. Doing so ends up creating an endless cycle of things being created and destroyed, and unlike in “Dearest Family”, they don't reuse footage from “Style Queen”.

Marinette gets the trash can, and realizes what's happening, and while Adrien and Nino plan to have the Resistance try and stop Sole Destroyer, Marinette works on making her own Ladybug costume. Monarch orders Tikki to tell him what the hell's going on, Tikki explains that since Plagg destroyed the Cat Miraculous, he lost his only method of communicating with the physical plane, and all Monarch needs to do to get what he needs is to take back the Lucky Charm Tikki created. Just then, Marinette arrives, dressed up as Ladybug, and seemingly having the Lucky Charm in her hands, only for Monarch to steal it, unifying into Monarbug.

Given how stupid he looked as Shadow Noir last season, it's not exactly surprising to learn that Gabriel looks just as stupid unified with the Ladybug. The red and black polka dots just don't go with the black and purple. The one thing I'll give them credit for is that the eyes look kind of cool.

The Lucky Charm turns out to be a fake, and Nino jumps in to save Marinette from being hit with Venom. The rest of the Resistance also arrives, somehow having beaten up Sole Destroyer off-screen and turning her into a battering ram. Monarbug undoes the Akumatization, but Rose, Ivan, and Kim dogpile Monarbug, leaving Adrien to steal back the Ladybug Miraculous for Marinette.

Marinette transforms back into Ladybug, and uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage and fix the Cat Miraculous. While Ladybug fights Monarch, she learns that he reforged the Miraculous before Monarch uses Multitude and Voyage to make his escape, swearing that he'll beat Ladybug someday, “We'll meet again, Spider-Man”, yadda yadda yadda.

Tikki and Marinette talk about finding new holders, only for Marinette to choose to take back the Miraculous, figuring that since Monarch doesn't know their identities (once again forgetting what the Alliance rings can do), that's the best option. Plagg takes back the Cat Miraculous and goes to say goodbye to Zoe, reassuring her that she was still brave enough to stand up to Chloe, because I guess to hell with the people who somehow managed to restrain Chloe while she was Sole Destroyer. And so this episode, and by extension, this two-parter, ends with Ladybug and Cat Noir talking about how their Kwamis saved the day... even though they were the reason Monarch almost won in the first place.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... CHLOE

In addition to somehow not knowing the definition of the word “generous”, she failed to come up with a good comeback against Marinette, chose to get akumatized to get revenge, failed at that, betrayed Sabrina and Lila, her only allies, for no good reason, and somehow got defeated off-screen by a bunch of civilians with no superpowers, not even getting to fight either of the new heroes, including her sister.

But yeah, in case you can't tell, these episodes were pretty bad. The entire premise of Tikki and Plagg deciding that Marinette and Adrien's love lives were more important than stopping Monarch was a hard pill to swallow, especially since their replacements didn't get to do anything outside of a single Akuma fight. You'd think that with the buildup Zoe got standing up to Chloe, she'd at least play a role in stopping Sole Destroyer, but instead, she and Alya are benched for almost the entirety of “Deflagration”. It's also really dumb that the ending tried to make them out to be the MVP's of the fight, when their idea was what caused Monarch to almost get the Miraculous.

Even Marinette and Adrien didn't really make a lot of progress here. All they did was talk a little, but even after “Deflagration”, not much else happened. Yeah, Adrien stood up for Marinette, but they still haven't officially started dating yet, even when they had every reason to after giving up their Miraculous. It's still better than nothing, but after four and a half seasons, I think we're allowed to want a little more development with the Love Square Wouldn't it have been interesting to see Marinette and Adrien try to start a relationship during their brief retirement, only to struggle to maintain it after becoming superheroes again? We're almost halfway through the season, and the Love Square is still progressing at a snail's pace. Then again, I guess it's better than nothing at this point.

“Transmission” was pretty boring, all things considered. Other than the first act, nothing really happened. The Akuma fight was like the others, just with two new heroes, and Marinette and Adrien got to bond for a few minutes. Nora and Kouki's drama wasn't interesting, and it wasn't even properly explained like the motivations of other Akumas.

I will say that “Deflagration” was the better of the two, if only because Marinette, Adrien, and Gabriel made some smart choices here. Unlike in “Evolution” and “Destruction”, there's no gloating or wasting time. Monarch cuts straight to the chase, and Marinette comes up with a quick plan to trick him with. Also, while I still don't really care about the Resistance, I like the idea of the civilians standing up to Monarch, and think it was executed better than it was in “Heroes' Day”. Even Sole Destroyer got a few reactions out of me for how exaggerated her facial expressions were. I don't know why they decided to give her One Piece levels of weird faces, but kudos to the animators on that front. Of course, Sole Destroyer was still one of the most pointless Akumas in the show's history, as you could take her out of the episode and nothing would have changed.

Overall, while I appreciate the effort to try and tell bigger stories, this was a really weird choice of an episode to make a two-parter.

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watchoutforthefanfics · 11 months

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My John || Eleventh Doctor x gn!Reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: At the news of an unknown distress call from the Tardis, the Doctor must go undercover. With the trust of thousands of years, he places himself (both watch and being) into your hands. Enter Dr. John Smith (not really a medical doctor just has his doctorate) your new roommate.

Inspired by: The Transmission by @fabulouspotatosister + 'ceilings' - Lizzy McAlpine

[[A/N: This was majorly based on the lyrics: 'But it's not real, and you don't exist'. So angst warning. But it has a happy ending, I swear. ]]

"It won't be long."

You could remember the creases of his face as he said it to you, the smooth of the worry in his brow -just because he didn't want you to see it. Well, you felt it now, the ache of days and nights and the heaviness of the watch in your pocket -you couldn't let go of it or put it out of your sight.

"When the time comes, you'll know."

You'd asked more about that then, about the how and the what and the why, but he waved it all off. 'You're clever,' he spoke, and you couldn't help the flutter in your stomach, '-you'll know.' So, you had prepared yourself to the life you found eerie compared to the previous one. Seeing John was... a domestic look on the Doctor and you weren't sure if it was good or bad for you.

"Honey, I'm home," he loudly announced, sing-songy with a cheer you couldn't quite match.

You exhaled, shook your hands, and stood to your feet, peeking out your bedroom door to where the Doctor... John stood.

He dressed differently now, more casual sometimes with the early morning pajamas. Today, however, he was dressed with a white button up and slacks, familiar, but matched with a long brown coat that had the same vibe as a trench coat but not the same material. And on the tip of his nose sat a pair of glasses, that you'd seen on the Doctor, yes, but rarely.

"Oh, so we have pet names now, dear?" You teased, watching as the tips of his ears began to burn a bright red.

It was natural, whatever banter you'd acquired. It was rather flirty, sure, but natural. You didn't want to think about what that meant too much.

"Dear?" He shriveled up his nose, "-What are we, an old married couple? I'd at least like to be dearest."

You snorted, walking towards the kitchen -which was right across the entry way, where he slipped off his shoes and placed his coat on the hanger. You were surprised by his organization in this light, especially since seeing some of the TARDIS's rooms.

"Okay, John dearest," you spoke, nose upturned as if you were pompous, "-may I ask how your day went? Were the kids okay today?"

He was a librarian at the local school, and sometimes on Saturdays he'd have extra readings for town square -he was quite the hit. With the voices he'd put on and the enthusiasm of the stories he told, the kids were enraptured. They weren't the only one.

"Of course," he grinned, "-haven't I told you, Thursday class kids are the best! Always desperate to learn that lot."

"Right," you carefully mixed the food upon the stove top, it wasn't on anymore but it was still warm enough to heat it up, "-that's the one with Charlotte in it, yeah?"

"Oh, yes, lovely Charlotte," he smiled, "-she'll go places I tell you. Today, she was negotiating an escape plan during recess, had a route down to the times."

You laughed, before siphoning off two servings and continuing, "And the meeting afterward?"

His demeanor dropped, as he pouted with a groan, "Boring, you know I hate to sit still for too long. Plus, George was just spewing nonsense statistics the whole time -didn't grasp onto much."

"Naturally," you hummed, taking a seat across from him as you placed his plate in front of you. You were usually the one to cook, not for... John's lack of trying, but more for the whole apartment's safety.

"What about you?" He countered, eyes attentive on you, it was unusual for you -the Doctor was usually everywhere all at once but John was often just an observer, "How was yours?"

The attention was odd, sometimes, but you'd grown to like it -despite how flustered it could make you. Depending on the day, and if his hair was messy and collar fussed. Luckily, he seemed well-composed today -a perfect picture of John, not the Doctor.

"Boring," you answered, not finding anything of note in your day. It was quiet mostly here, and you couldn't often chance going out without knowing where the Doctor was or if the threat was even still active.

"Oh, come off it," he dragged, his tone playful, "-you can do better than that. Go on, tell me. Anything new?"

You shook your head with a smile, "Not much, I'm just in the early stages now jotting ideas down in whatever form I can. There's not... It's all drafts."

You stayed home, under the illusion of being a writer -waiting for their big break. You did write though, detailing your adventures with well... him. It helped you sometimes when you missed him, and worst case scenario, it reminded you of what you were doing this all for. Because John's familiar soft smile and gleaming eyes were something you knew you could get yourself lost in.

You wished you could keep this version of him somewhere within you (locked away tight, yours), but you could never wish the lack of the Doctor in the world. Or even with you for that matter.

"I imagine it's lovely," he spoke, tone soft and the blush on his cheeks rising high, "-anything you make will be."

And there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze you'd caught from him now. It was happening more often, between the shared hours of the day you and John were domestic -connected personally, even. And you knew it felt that way, with him coming home, and sharing the space so intricately.

Just looking around the kitchen, you could see John just about in every crevice. An apron there (that said kiss the cook), some themed salt and pepper shakers (they were shaped like little animals), and the book he kept by the counter -he often sat there as you cooked, and you well enjoyed the company.

And everywhere else, you'd find him too. Little trinkets on bookshelves he just "couldn't live without", a few snowglobes from different cities (you found he was invested in traveling), and notepads just about everywhere. He always had something new to remember afterall.

"Well, thank you," you hummed, cursing yourself for the flush that went up your own cheeks. This isn't him, and he's not even himself.

How is that fair.

"But," you continued, playfully, "-I doubt you're an unbiased critic."

He made a big dramatic gesture with his hands to himself before speaking in a high-pitched tone, "Me? What? Never."

"John," you hummed, "-you're really not a good liar."

"Not to you," He smiled, his eyes carrying a whimsical shine that made your stomach swirl with familiarity, "You see right through me. I'll have you know, some of my classes think I'm a trainer of wild lions over the summer."

"You remember you teach children, right? They're fairly gullible."

"Pish-posh," he tsked, scooping some of the food into his mouth with a grace you found mostly unknown to the Doctor -other than tactful speeches and addressing an enemy, "-children are rather smart, just don't know how to use it yet."

"Yes, right," you countered, "-and this is an unbiased look, coming from a children's teacher, then?"

He rolled his eyes, a playfulness giving him away on his face, "Alright, you win. I'm shelving this argument for now."

"Just shelving it?"

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling up at you from his plate, and you felt your heart do a little twist in its place, "-anyway, I meant to ask you something."

You pursed your eyebrows at the sudden topic change, but pressed further on, "Yes?"

"Well, there's a-" he fidgetted with his fork, eyes now looking anywhere but you, "-a work thing Saturday. A big party, music and food. It's a celebration for getting halfway through the year, I suppose. Anyway, I just... well-"

"John?" You interrupted, clear, and concise but a touch concerned -had he seen something? Was it time?

"I'd like for you to come," he spit out, quicker than what was previously said but you still caught it (a symptom of the Doctor’s long-winded rants you supposed), "-with me. If you're not... busy."

"John," you hummed, with a grin, "-as if I'm ever too busy for you."

John smiled, the kind of smile the Doctor got when you were 'bloody brilliant' or so he'd put it. It made you feel special, all of your limbs felt like they were fizzing. The difference was now... you hadn't done anything. He looked at you like the stars were merely rocks, just because you'd said you'd go to a work party with him.

The Doctor wouldn't have done that. And that fact made your stomach twist in guilt, this wasn't really him. John wasn't really a person, just a shell of who he was meant to be and you were the only person so close to him.

And here you were, feeling things that you shouldn't with a man who only had you within this world.

Sure, he was giving you signals. Signals that made your head spin because you had always wanted them from that face, but it wasn't him. It's not fair.

"Brilliant," he grinned in response, before taking the two of your plates away with the same enthusiasm. He wouldn't wash them, he never did directly after dinner. Always said he didn't want to waste a moment.

And maybe you didn't want to either.

The next few days were busy for you, more than usual, you'd been trying to trace who had been after him for the past year. It had been a year. You were getting nowhere, mostly because he hadn't told you anything -'he' being the Doctor.

So, you weren't exactly ready when Saturday crawled up on you. John had practically been bouncing off the walls, fidgeting with his tie. He hadn't looked at you once as he navigated the space, grabbing things he'd strewn about -he looked so natural here. Fit here, with you.

It'd been familiar. You missed him.

Every day you did.

The Doctor jumping around the space, eager to tell you about the hills that stars grew on, or the alien race that communicated through smell.

"Isn't it brilliant?" He'd always be grinning so bright it could blind you, and he'd twirl around the controls for good measure. Eyes looking to you for your reaction, beautiful green twinkling with wonder you thought you'd lost when you were six. You had lost when you were six, but he... he brought it back.

"Y/N?" he spoke, well not him... but him, "Everything alright?"

John was in your space, a few steps away -maybe afraid to bridge the gap, he extended a hand. You'd realized then you were crying, the tears silent against your cheeks -you didn't even realize...

"If you're not-" he started, his fingers clenching in the air between the two of you like he'd wanted to touch you but wasn't sure, "If you don't want to go, we can stay."

We, he'd always said something like that -a package deal. Maybe you could live in your delusions for a bit, you could be selfish once.

With a breath, you closed the gap -connecting your hands and intertwining your fingers with his. His hand moved naturally... like it was meant for this... like his hand was meant to be in yours. It was intimate, something about you not being in direct danger and still holding him close.

You were safe, in your apartment; the two of you dressed dashingly, all for a party you were now bound to be late to.

"Wish I could," clearing your throat of the tears, you swung your hand and his between the two of you with the smallest of smiles, "-but my date is pretty handsome, couldn't bare to let him down."

John chuckled, you could still see the smear of concern in the pull of his brows but he could never really help it with you, "Handsome, really? This date seems very lucky then. From where I'm looking-"

You snorted, shaking your head and letting go of his hand -heading towards the apartment door, "We're going to be late, John."

"You started it," he pouted, before spinning around in a circle -eyes darting, "-wait, where's my coat?"

"John, darling," you hummed, pointing to the coat that was draped right across the back of the couch.

"Right, yes," he responded, grabbing it before freezing in place like your words had just now processed, "-did you say... darling?"

"Good observation."

"That's new, isn't it?" he asked, eyes intent on you for a moment -like you were a mystery he couldn't solve, "-I like it."

"Oh hush you," you snickered, not lingering on the slip any longer than you wanted to, "-we are so late."

John grinned bright and you saw him then -adventurous and wonderful, as he approached you -almost giddy, "I wouldn't have it any other way, darling."

The party was fuller than you'd expected, really. It wasn't just in some breakroom with dollar streamers and cupcakes with the kind of icing that stained your mouth. There were lights, music, and it was catered. With a mouthwatering buffet, mind you.

"John," you hush whispered, "-you didn't tell me it was fancy."

"How was I supposed to know?" he whispered back, defensive, "-This is my first one too!"

At that moment, two men walked up -each in a more dashing suit than the other, groomed to the nines. You truly doubted these guys were teachers, but based on the man that stood by your side... maybe it was true.

"Oh my," the taller one, who if you had to guess was the gym teacher spoke, eyes caught on you, "-John, is this the infamous Y/N?"

The other man straightened, eyes landing on yours, "No way!"

"Infamous?" You turned to John with a questioning brow, now this was interesting.

"It's not-"

"I'm Joseph," the taller one extended his hand to shake, before motioning to the man beside him, "-and this is my husband, Elliot."

"Not that I need to tell you," you smiled towards John, "-but I'm Y/N. It's wonderful to meet you."

"Gosh," Joseph began with a teasing smile toward John, who seemed like a branch in the wind, "-I feel like I know you already. John here's told me so much-"

"Alright," John erupted, the tips of his ears burning bright red -avoiding his eyes to yours, "-that's enough."

You added with a smile, playful, "Dearest, I'm not so sure. I'm quite interested in-"

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the quirk on his lips, "Yeah, yeah. You've had your fun. Now dance with me."

"What?"

"You promised me a dance, silly," he reiterated, pulling you away from the two to a space with less people -the music soft and echoing across the space, "-don't you remember?"

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the pull, "I certainly did not."

"Okay, well, then..." he paused, thinking and still holding your hand between the two of you -loosely, "-I'm asking you now. Will you dance with me?"

You stared at him, his face dancing in the lighting of the space and that strand of his hair falling in front of his eyes like it always did -god, you'd gotten used to him. There was an urge to brush it away, to hold his face -his precious, precious face.

Instead, you squeezed his hand, "Of course."

He smiled, and pulled you to the floor -eyes intent and focused, the music was slow, melodic. You assumed it was requested, based on the nature of the tones, didn't feel quite party to you.

"John," you confessed, "-I really don't know how to dance to this."

He laughed to himself, before gently guiding you the rest of the way to floor, "Don't worry, follow my lead."

John moved your hand to his shoulder, placed his hand on your back, and intertwined your free hands together without a second thought. It felt personal, really to be a breath away from him -for his hands to holding you close. Not in a hug, where you couldn't see his eyes.

But now you could.

"See, watch," he hummed, moving to step in a square -you knew this part, "-you're a natural!"

"You're just saying that," you echoed with a smile, unused to the flattery so close. So tantalizingly close that you could feel the breath of it on your lips. This had never happened.

"Y/N," he spoke, hushed, just for you to hear, "-did you ever think... you could... we could, really-"

"Yes?" you asked, eyes caught in his as you desperately tried to not step on his toes.

"Well, if you-" he began, before frowning, "-if you wanted we could maybe-"

A scream interrupted his sentence, loud and brash, and something within you snapped. You tried to get eyes on the obstruction, but the crowds running just dragged your eyes elsewhere. '... you'll know.'

"We know he's here," a voice slithered, yes slithered, through the crowd -the tone, unnatural, "-give him to us. NOW."

"When the time comes, you'll know."

Your eyes darted to John's who were frantically looking to you, almost checking you over, "John, we have to go."

He seemed speechless, "O-Okay."

You'd kept the watch on you, you could hardly leave it out of your sight -so the cold tingle against your side was quite comforting now. The clothes you were wearing didn't have much pocket space, but it had... something, after all.

Where to, you stared out at the intricate hallways, where to?

"WHERE IS HE?!"

There was a door down the way, space looked small, but it would have to work. You didn't have many options.

Pulling him into the space (a janitor's closet by the looks of it), you shut the door behind you two -making sure it wasn't an automatic lock. The darkness was all encompassing before you found the switch as you brushed your fingers along the wall.

"When you said out, I assumed you meant, well-" he spoke, tone shaky and it was moments like this where the difference was stark, "-out."

"John," you spoke, directly looking into his eyes, "-do you trust me?"

"What, yes-" he sputtered out, eyes lost and it would've been cute had you not been in the situation you were.

"Good," you spoke, before sticking your hand into his coat's pocket -the side he never used, and fished out what you were looking for. The sleek metal in your hand was unusual sure, but not... unwelcome, really.

John stared at it, eyes wide and breaths hollowing, "What... is that? I've never even seen that before! Was that in there the whole-"

"John, this is hard to explain," you exhaled, digging into your own pocket to pull out the watch -it was warm in your hands, "-but you are not John Smith."

"What?!"

"This," you pulled his hand over the watch in yours, you could almost feel it react, "-is you."

"Y/N," he echoed, "-I think you hit your head. You're acting-"

"Crazy," you finished, "-I know."

You could almost see the spandrels of gold connecting with his fingertips, twisting through the air to meet his skin. They were small though, delicate, easily cleared if he wanted them to be.

"Your name is the Doctor, you are an alien-"

"An alien?!"

"-the last one of your kind, Timelord," you continued, gently turning the watch to be in his hand, "-and the world needs you."

"This is-" he began, backing away -trying to push the watch back into your hands, "-ridiculous. My name is John Smith, I'm a librarian at Dexington Primary School. I have been for a year-"

"John-" you began -desperate.

"I got my degree, I met you on campus-" his tone was still fond somehow, "-you spilled your coffee on me, and wanted me to apologize-"

"John-" you interrupted, you couldn't hear this. Not now. Not when you were about to lose him.

"And I should've been mad. I should've been, but your smile was brilliant and I couldn't even think straight-"

"John, please." You echoed, tone gentle, soft.

"I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen," he looked up at you, eyes red and watery, "...How can that not be real?"

"Oh John," you hummed, tears of your own gathering -your hand coming to rest on his cheek, idly tracing the skin there, "-my darling John. It was."

John leaned into your palm, tears floating down his cheeks, and you wiped them away.

"This," you whispered, a bit breathless from the tears of your own and pointed between the two of you, "-was real. I know that."

"Then, why-" he began, eyes fluttering all over your face.

"You're-" you sighed, shakily and hesitant to let him go, "-you're not you, John. Not really."

"I want to be-" he started, reflecting his hand on your face -wiping at your tears, "-I just want to be your John. Why can't I?"

"Because you're the Doctor," you hummed, your heart breaking in your chest, "-and I can't take that away from the world."

He seemed to understand then, looking down at the watch with purpose -trying to see it for it was, you thought. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were heavy with a feeling you'd seen before in them, in the Doctor's eyes.

"I..." he whispered, looking back up into your eyes, "-I love you. Truly, I- I do. You have to know that, before I... Before I go."

"My John," you were crying now, the twist in your chest strong - an ache, a yearning, "-I love you too."

Without a second thought, you pushed forward, placing your other hand on his face -connecting your lips to his. You could be selfish twice, you decided, as you held his precious, precious face between your fingers.

It was bittersweet, the salt of your tears soiling your lips, but you really honestly couldn't change a thing. You wouldn't.

It was an ending you wouldn't forget.

With a breath, you pulled apart but let your fingers stay for a moment -eyes dancing around his face, to remember this. To remember John.

Because this... wasn't the Doctor, no matter how hard you wished it to be. It would be gone so very soon.

"You were lovely," you hummed, brushing his hair back and letting your fingers linger on his skin, "-I'll miss you."

With that, you stepped back.

"I'll miss you too."

He stared at you, green eyes so open, so vulnerable, he was hesitant -toying around with the watch in his fingers. You exhaled, shakily, and nodded.

John smiled, a brief one that you tried to commit to your brain, so fond... so loving. He didn't need to say anything else, so he flicked open the watch, and golden light burst into the room. It was so bright, you had to hide your eyes in the crook of your arm -the warmth biting up against your skin. It felt like a harsher version of the sun, searing across your skin, but it wasn't necessarily hurting.

And then, it stopped.

You looked up from behind your arm, and-

"Bloody hell," he spoke, gruff to himself, as he seemed to try to get something out of his ear, "-that was a rough one."

The joy you felt in your heart was immeasurable, but you still felt quite... broken open, splayed out like a puddle on the floor, and he was not.

He wiped at his eyes, noticing the tears -most likely, "What was I even-"

His eyes caught onto you, the eyes that you had missed -the extra heaviness, the extra wonder, and the infinite knowledge in that brain of his.

He lit up into a smile so bright that warmed you, "Y/N! Thank the stars, you look terrific."

The Doctor leaned forward, brushing a hand through your hair -it was longer now, "How long has it been?"

You paused, "About a year."

"Oh," he hummed, eyes everywhere but your face -thoughts quick and unraveling, "-that was a bit of miscalculation on my part... My bad. I didn’t think-"

His eyes finally landed on you, and he faltered. Moving quickly toward you, his hands unwittingly went to your face, wiping at the tears that had fled there. Your face was no doubt a wreck, sniffling nose and eyes scrubbed red.

"Have you been-" the Doctor paused, speaking softer, "Have you been crying?"

"I..." you began, but couldn't finish it.

"I was crying, too," he continued, "-well, not me but... me. What, so we were crying together that's-"

He fell silent, looking at you again -almost analyzing. There was a gleam, a shine of understanding, and you knew.

"You loved him," he concluded. The silence echoing loud after the words, bouncing around your head like a pinball machine, "-didn't you?"

You couldn't do this now, you really couldn't do this now, "Doctor, now is not the time."

Before he could say another word, you dug the screwdriver out of your pocket -it was shoved there when you... it didn't matter. Not now.

He narrowed his eyes at you, saying something you recognized to be 'we'll talk later', before accepting the tool with a grin, "Right then, duty calls, doesn't it?"

"As always," you quipped. He rewarded you with a grin that send your stomach into knots, one you'd missed so dearly.

The aliens who had come to him were fairly easy to handle, they were a bit too overconfident in their planning. The Doctor had simply slipped right in, and they hadn't been prepared for it. Hardly worth a year.

They underestimated him, you could tell. He was pouting about it. Had been for the last 10 minutes.

"What, they really thought I would fall for that?" He muttered to himself, as you both roamed the area -checking up on the masses, keeping an eye out for any injury that needed to be urgently dealt with.

And then you saw them, the men: Joseph and Elliot. They sat huddled together, comforting each other with what looked like some other teachers -their eyes widened in relief at the sight of the two of you, you assumed.

"Y/N, John!" Joseph exclaimed, the pull of his eyebrows lessening, "Thank god, you two are alright, are you hurt anywhere?"

He briefly scanned the two of you, seeming to come up with nothing, "-good."

"Joseph, right?" The Doctor asked, you knew he retained partial memories, so it made sense, "-Is everyone okay over here?"

"Yeah," Joseph answered, eyes flickering down the line, "-George sprained an ankle, but that seems to be the worst thing so far."

He was confused, you could tell by this new dynamic and the shift in... John. Your weren't sure how to even start in an explanation though, and the Doctor didn't seem too worried so you just waved it off.

"You're..." Elliot began, observing, "... different, John. You sure you okay?"

The Doctor chuckled, "I'm quite alright, never been better really. I'm just... not quite John."

"If I hadn't seen snake people about 10 minutes ago," Joseph responded, "-I'd say that's weird... but now? Do you just... You're not John?"

"No, well yes," the Doctor scrambled, "-John is like a piece of me. Just a part of my whole self, really. I... felt all the things John felt, saw what he saw. It just wasn't fully me."

They nodded, and he took it as means to continue.

"The rest of me was locked away, kind of," he spoke, face trying to track what he'd say, "-does that make sense?"

"The most I've heard today," Joseph quipped, "-which is not very much."

"Well," he grinned -wide and bright, the knowledge of worlds blooming behind his eyes, "-that's all I can ask, really."

"Are you two okay?" You asked, eyeing the two with a sensitive eye.

"Yes," they smiled at you, both of them had such kind eyes, "-we came up unscathed, luckily."

You sighed in relief, "Okay, good."

"Right then," he hummed, eyeing you with an eye you found familiar, questioning concern, "-off we pop, keep in touch, will you?"

"Don't you know it... uh-"

"The Doctor," you clarified, "-world-saving alien."

"Doctor, okay," he laughed -despite looking quite in shock, it was almost just adding to the pile rather than well... being a new type of weird, "-try and stay safe, will you? I may not... know you, but I know John. I rather cared for that bloke."

"We will," you answered, your smile a little bittersweet -you couldn't think about it too much now. Later.

The plan originally had been to go to the Tardis, but this outfit had been one of your best -you wouldn't let it be lost deep in the hallways. You'd already lost at least 3 hoodies in there -limited edition ones, too. And the Doctor was like a lost puppy, so he'd be sure to follow behind.

John had been the same in that sense, showing you things, gravitating towards the same room, and practically pouting for entertainment when you sat still for too long.

The trip up the stairwell was unusually silent, you'd felt odd in the presence of the Doctor and well... silence. It felt like he was always talking, and if by some chance he wasn't, he was everywhere. Big motions filling up a space, he'd almost always have a spotlight shining on him -attention on him anywhere he went.

It was the curse of the companion to fall in love with the wonder, one you knew well.

But this part of the Doctor was rarely there, this part was the kind where he'd stay silent for days -thinking about something in particular. An anniversary of an event, he wouldn't say what; the only way you could tell was he wouldn't be jumping to go elsewhere. He'd stay right there.

You felt that same part here, following you to the apartment that you... that you used to share. Kind of. You weren't quite sure where his memories were, what he remembered about the year (or even the past few hours for that matter).

The door swung open, and the silence only intensified. Large and unmoveable, you were sure how to even approach it. Or if he even wanted you too.

"It's... blurry," he spoke, dusting his fingers along a snowglobe (one of his, technically) -you held back the twinge in your heart. John was everywhere in here.

"What is?" You questioned, absentmindedly playing the ends of one of the coats that hung there -it wasn't yours, but you thought you might keep it.

"The line between me and him," he answered, eyes scattering to different things littering across the space.

Looking at it, it looked very domestic.

The pairs of shoes by the door, the mugs paired by the stove -ready for tea, the pair of pillows decorating the couch -you'd both chosen one. It felt so... stuck together, you could barely breathe.

"There's things I know I..."

"Doctor," you shook your head, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat -you were grieving... over someone right in front of you, "-you don't have to do this..."

He pursed his lips at you, furrowing his brow, "Do what?"

"This," you motioned to him, holding the snowglobe -close to his chest, "-I know John isn't you. You don't have to... I know."

"Y/N," he began, now placing the trinket back on the shelf, "-what are you talking about?"

"Doctor, it's embarrassing enough as it is."

"What is-" He questioned, roaming closer, "Y/N, you're making no sense."

"Stop," you rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, and of course he only followed you. What were you going to do with all this?

"Look at me," he held your biceps, guiding your eyes to his, "-does it look like I'm lying to you?"

You squinted at his, trying to closely analyze his face -you knew it, his tells, his existence was painted in the skull of your brain. Both Timelord and human now, you supposed.

"No," you decided -still not quite over the lump of emotion in your throat, would you ever be?

"Right then," he cleared his throat awkwardly and let go of your arms, "-good."

This was something starkly different, the Doctor fluttering away from affection so easily -stepping out of the space and not being aware anymore. John... He felt like he was looking at you, always looking at you. Maybe because he had nothing else to look at, but you liked to think it was because he wanted to. You hoped he did.

"Stop-" the Doctor interjected, the silence of the room breaking like glass -harsh and loud, "Stop thinking so loud."

You rolled your eyes, not wishing to deal with this side of him now -not when you felt like you were digging a grave for someone standing right in front of you. It was odd, the twisted feeling of watching what you knew to be the Doctor around the room. (The only real difference being the godforsaken bowtie. He'd stolen it at the party, the janitor -an older man with a kind smile, had easily given it away.)

He belonged here, you knew that. Hell, even before the last year, the Doctor would pop in for visits -movie nights, just to try something human he'd heard about, or his impatience on waiting for you. He had a spot then, sat on one of your wider windowsills -staring down at the streets below, or the lit up city, you weren't sure. The man just couldn't sit in a regular chair.

John hadn't done that. Sure, he'd made himself cozy in every space possible that he could, including the kitchen cabinets once (hell of a day), but never... never the windowsill. He hadn't wondered about what was outside, his whole world was right...

"Here," you hummed to yourself, tracing the tips of books on the shelves.

You saw that now, John had no need for adventure, no spark to see something new. He'd been content. Happy with just you.

The Doctor couldn't be like that, you knew that. He never could.

You weren't sure you'd ask him to.

"I wish I could," the Doctor spoke, a chuckle lost in the whisper of his words.

"What?"

He seemed to pause, thinking about his next words -the Doctor thinking never really meant anything good. But, you still found you waited.

"Your John," he finished, "-I wish I could be him."

You froze in your place, your breath hitching in your lungs -so, he had remembered, "We really don't have to-"

He seemed to continue, as if your words hadn't even been spoke, "You have to understand, Y/N, John is a part of me. Sure, without the extra bits, but still me. Me in my most basic form, human."

You didn't know what to say.

"Well," the Doctor corrected, "-human...ish. Not really an exact science, just kind of takes the regeneration energy and-"

"Doctor," you exhaled, tired, "-what is this all about?"

"You don't," he began, face furrowed into one of curious concern, "-You don't know?"

"Know what?"

He seemed to falter to a pause, like he was planning his next move. Or thinking of his next words again. You wondered what he had to be so careful about -you misinterpreting?

In a blink, he was in front of you -digging around through his pocket before he found what he was looking for -the watch, "Did I ever tell you how this works? The Chameleon Arch?"

"You mean the watch?" you questioned.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he started, fingers mindlessly tracing the Gallifreyan on the front, "-the technical part of it is called a Chameleon Arch, Gallifreyan tech. Original duty is to change an individual's species. Technically, it changes your biology -a very painful process, really, I'd know."

"Right," you flinched, remembering the brief moment he'd experienced it before, "-I... remember."

He frowned at you, seeming to not remember that you had seen that, "It's connected to the Tardis, gives me the backstory, but... it's never been an exact science."

You paused, looking at the Doctor with eyes of curiousity -he seemed to have a point to this ramble. He never had a point to his rambles.

"It takes bits and pieces from me," he hummed, demostrating with the air in front of his hands, "-the person it creates isn't entirely from the Tardis, not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Like a motivation," he hummed, debating on whether or not finish it -eyes looking your direction but not at you, "-or a hobby, or a..."

The Doctor froze in his place, eyes focused on his hands in front of him -slowly, his eyes rose up to meet yours, "A... feeling."

You were confused for a moment, watching him. He'd frozen in place, yet his eyes stayed trained on yours. You couldn't quite grasp it, what he was trying to convey to you. Until...

Until you truly looked at him.

There was something erry about him, something on his face that felt off, but at the same time, ever so natural. So right, yet so wrong.

And then it hit you, there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze.

"Doctor," you spoke, disbelieving.

"Y/N, you have to know," he continued, despite your plea, "-you really truly have to-"

"Doctor, please," you hadn't wanted to go through this again -the hope of loving the Doctor could only hurt you, "-you aren't thinking straight. Th-That's John, not you-"

He was confused, twisting memories together, you couldn't... you couldn't chance it.

"Y/N," he was getting closer to you now, voice steady and distinct, "-it started with me."

You froze in place, blinking as if he'd vanish right in front of your eyes. It was almost like a hallucination for a second, because he (the Doctor, not John) could not mean what you thought he meant.

"It took the bit of me that was..." he corrected, watching you as if you could break with slightest of touches, "-is in love with you."

"You do?" you began, sputtering -you weren't sure what to say, "...N-Not John?"

"Well, technically both," he grinned and you felt your stomach twist into a pretzel. God, what were you going to do with him?

"Oh, shut it," you huffed out.

You could definitely be selfish a third time afterall.

In a blink, you pulled his face towards yours -the steps towards him quick and brash but the way you touched his face was different. Gentle, you trailed your finger along his cheekbone for a second.

Your breath mixed with his, he was just looking at you. Like there was nothing else to look at.

Like he was... happy with just you.

God had he been hiding that look the whole time? -peeking over books as you read them, staring at you as you walked around the Tardis fitting in just like a missing puzzle piece.

"It was all me," he whispered, distracted, sure, but still answering you. Stupid Timelord telepathy and stupid handsome aliens.

And maybe you were a little stupid too, but he didn't need the ego boost, truly.

"Hey-" he pouted out, and the jut of his lip almost made your heart flatline -sure you were almost there but you hadn't worked up to it yet.

The Doctor paused, noticing your stiffening in place, the way your eyes darted to his mouth for a second -a split second, and he grinned.

And for a second you thought he might pull back, and make up some excuse, but instead, his hand came up to the side of your face. Surprisingly smooth fingertips detailing the dips and pulls of your face, you could barely breathe at the closeness.

"Wonderful," he spoke, so quiet you could barely hear him -made you wonder if was even for you to hear. Or if it was just... for him, "-You're wonderful."

"Doctor," you almost cried, the movement so soft, so careful. Like he never wanted to forget the face. You held his face close, a breath away from you and this burst of fondness flooding your chest you just couldn't even describe really.

So, you held his face, trailing your fingers along his jaw -showing it the only truest way you knew how, "My Doctor, my darling Doctor."

And you kissed him.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #temporarily human! doctor #gender neutral y/n #basically human nature but modern and eleven #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #watchoutwriting #my john #john smith doctor #unrequited love but not really #it does rip your heart out #but it's okay eventually #kinda made myself fall in love with john so #use of y/n #pet names #flirting

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starqueensthings · 9 months

Text

Colder Weather: Part One

Summary: a two-chapter (nice try, Holly! It’s three) ficlet that follows Post-Stassis/Pirate Kix as he navigates the see-saw of an unexpected love that he doesn't think he deserves, and the trauma of his past.

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader

POV/WC/Rating: 2nd, 4570, Teen + up

Warnings: extensive references of survivors guilt, grief, and mentions of previous character death. Seggsy time is implied but not described. This is emotional (it needs to be, so I'm not sorry)

A/N: the context of this ficlet won’t make much sense unless you’re decently familiar with the legends version of Kix’s life post-war (it might even be canon now? Not sure…). If you haven't listened to the song that inspired this little ficlet, I highly recommend you give it a listen; it's truly a lyrical masterpiece.

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | ao3

“I want to see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then? [...] Well, it’s a winding road when you’re in the lost-and-found. You’re a lover, I’m a runner, and we go round and round. I love you, but I leave you. I don’t want to, but I need you.” Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band

You’d long since memorized his movements; long since perfected this dance, having performed the passionate choreography of this duet with him countless times.

It always began with the sound of his speeder bike nearing your quiet cottage; the roaring of the engine muffled only partially by the towering hedges surrounding your acre of secluded paradise. That rumble so artificial amongst the constant tittering of nature that it took a mere fraction of a second to recognize it, and even less time to send a fervor coursing through your veins so rigorously that your hands simply abandoned whatever task that had been keeping them occupied.

Triggered by the sound of his approach, your feet took you earnestly through the front door and out into the gravel drive. A small smile, often concealed by the expanse of a thick, dark beard, tugged his handsome features upwards as he swung a leg over the seat of his bike, helmet clutched absently in one hand and arms stretched wide in a motion so welcoming, even the sheer power of the Force couldn’t have kept you from leaping into them.

He never failed to match your enthusiasm, scooping you clean off your slippered feet and into the familiar tight embrace that you’d spent weeks longing to be secured in. Hushed coos of “Mesh’la” amongst other breathy salutations were words that never needed voicing; the way his eyes danced reverently across your features spoke more volumes than any muttered term of endearment, any hushed apology for his absence. Watching the crease between his brows soften at the soft brush of your thumb against his cheek was a feeling that could have sustained life for all eternity; every caress of your fingers atop his skin powered by an ineffable desire to remind yourself of him, to remind him of you.

But there was nothing that consumed you as entirely as the dance itself… nothing that quite melted your mind like the way he laid you down on the soft cotton of that old patchwork quilt; the way that he stripped himself of his rigid encasement; the way his eyes locked on yours, twinkling with an unspoken promise that he was about to make up for his repeated extended absences… all the transmissions that he’d failed to respond to… the commitment that he continuously denied you.

And while even the ghost of his touch still set your very nerves alight, time had seen the unpredictability of his visits robbed of their spontaneity; lust replaced with a devastating love; passion diminished by the anticipation of his impending departure. The dance had become less of a dance, and more of a contemptuous game: how many seconds would lapse in the forlorn quiet between when the heat of his skin departed yours, and the door swung closed behind him? How many shaky breaths would leave your lungs in the too-short span of time that it took for the shadow of the unseen monster, forever-perched atop his shoulders, to rob his eyes of the twinkle only freshly illuminated by the return of your embrace?

The answer: always too few.

He would only ever grant himself a dozen-or-so deep breaths to dwell in the lingering serenity once the cresting waves of pleasure had subsided, the heaving of his chest eventually stilling to match the motionlessness of the incipient dawn.

Unable to withstand the suffocating languor, a poignant sigh would trigger the initiation of his exodus, body following the command from his anguished mind to climb from the bed and methodically redress himself in that disguising, blue plastoid kit. A tender, whiskery kiss was always your parting gift. Lips void of the passion that had seen them so ravenously devour yours only minutes prior, now gently atop your forehead in a wordless goodbye-for-now; the roar of the engine echoing amongst the whispering pines the perfect soundtrack to the disappointment that pulled shameful tears from your eyes.

Yet… sometimes… on nights like tonight, an inexplicable force inside of him would demand that he dawdle, and if the urge to flee stalled on its way from brain to body for long enough, he’d roll toward you, fold his arm underneath his head, and trail a gentle fingertip along all his favourite parts of your body: the fleshy space between neck and shoulder where he often sought the comforting fragrance of your skin; the shallow dimples on your lower back, perched just above the rolling swells of muscle that he could barely keep his hands off of; the gaps between your fingers that so-perfectly housed his, as if they were ten adjacent pieces of a puzzle crafted by divine artistry.

Time had yet to reveal any explanation for the mystifying tenderness of his touch… it didn’t seem possible that such rough hands could trail so gently against your skin, yet his calloused fingers could have been draped in velvet for how softly they graced your most sensitive areas. And his pillow talk? It was poetry. His honeyed voice would utter whispered stories of glorious mountain ranges on far away planets while the delicate strokes of his fingertips ghosted atop the swells of your hips. He’d speak of the freckles smattered across your cheeks, and how they almost perfectly mirrored the night sky in Wild Space where the stars were so many, that astronomy had become an obsolete science, the citizens opting to merely look upon them for their unrivalled celestial magnificence. And when he would speak of the vibrant array of wild flowers that adorned the meadows of Felucia, he’d scoop your hand into his and kiss each individual knuckle, as if the immense power to blossom such beauty dwelled inside the fingers interlaced with his.

But they were rare, those quiet moments, their emergence so ephemeral that even the span of a somnolent blink would have seen them escape your awareness and vanish into the past, and they were as devastating as they were infrequent. Laced not with the dread of his imminent departure, those near silent moments of deep connection were saturated in a hope so ensnaring that its warmth momentarily overshadowed the pain of his repeated abandonment, and you became enraptured by the could-be’s… the if-only’s… the maybe’s.

Maybe… maybe tonight would be the night that the orange glow emerging atop the horizon did not trigger his departure. Perhaps this would be the time that he’d stay and spend the morning with you, his muscular arms locked around your chest as you ceased to fight the blissful drowsiness engulfing your bodies, dozing together in the first rays of the ambient light. Perhaps he’d be so comfortable, there in your arms, that the ever-present impulse to run, forever-clenched like an iron fist around his soul, would be finally suffocated by the sheer power of your love for him.

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

A ringing silence encompassed the room, broken only by the occasional chirp of an uninterested cricket nestled in the tall tufts of grass just outside the window, and the soft brush of dry leaves twirling amongst themselves in the warm gusts of midsummer’s breeze.

Speaking his brother’s name had rendered Kix momentarily muted and seemingly paralyzed, his eyes wide and affixed on an image that cruel memory had imprinted upon the ceiling above him. His breaths quickened, shoulder rising and falling rhythmically against your palm while his nostrils flared against the same onslaught of turmoil also knitting his brows together.

“Kix?” you probed in a soft whisper, fingers raising from the swell of his shoulder to gently stroke his hair. Those waves of black, sparsely peppered with the beginnings of grey, almost entirely concealed the remnants of a tattoo… letters… pieces of a phrase that he’d consistently evaded divulging. The ink, seemingly unblemished by time, looked as if it had only recently been embedded into his olive skin, yet his repeated, vague explanation of ‘I was a dumb kid’, suggested it was a choice made long ago; a decision made deep in a past he refused to speak of.

“Tell me about Jesse, my love…” you implored to his continued silence, watching with bated breath as the muscles in his jaw contracted in near perfect cadence with the bounding pulse in his neck.

“My brother…” Kix muttered, wrenching his eyes away from the ghost hovering over top of him, his solemn gaze dancing around the room in every direction but yours. “He… he died a long time ago. They all did.”

Your fingers faltered in their gentle strokes only for a breath, the impact of his words sending a crippling wave of aghast sadness throughout your body. “Who did?” It left your lips in barely more than a whisper, the unexpressed heartbreak lingering in the air robbing your tone of the intense curiosity that he so often shirked from and dissuaded, but despite the feigned composure precariously wrapped around your words, he offered no response. “Babe?” you pressed, your fingers abandoning their soothing dance along his temple to trail under his chin and weave themselves into the dark bristles of his beard. Hyperaware of the fragility of that moment, you gently cupped his jaw and turned his hagridden face toward you. “Who is ‘they’?”

His eyes finally met yours, darkened by apprehension and a deep sorrow that had yet to be explained. “My family.”

It was like nothing you’d ever heard before, the tension in his voice. Those two choked words constricted by a heavy lump in his throat, immediately transformed the gruff and callous pirate that you knew into a man so momentarily fragile that even the soft cotton sheets draped atop your bodies felt too abrasive. Even more unexpected was the mist gathering earnestly in his eyes, reflecting the moonlight beaming in the window as if suddenly encased in a dome of sparkling crystal.

Whatever was left of the feeble breath housed in your lungs escaped your parted lips in a devastated huff, your stomach torquing uncomfortably as your thoughts began to whirr frantically around your mind. Resisting the transcendent urge to lock him in an embrace, you merely swallowed the lump forming in your own throat and hastily blinked the wetness from your eyes. Like the quiet moment that he’d gifted you tonight, you were all-too aware that his vulnerability was fleeting; at risk of dismantling completely should you misstep. But this was the knowledge that you’d be aching to know your months… years; this was the monster on his shoulders that tore him from your bed… from your home so devastatingly often. You were desperate to know it all… desperate to know him.

“Your… your family?” Two stammering words were all that you could force from your parted lips as he wrenched his jaw from your grasp and turned his gaze back toward the ceiling, grinding his knuckles aggressively into his eyes.

A heavy sigh was his only response, teeth clicking from how tightly he ground them as he seemingly tried to rub the image of his dead family from his sight. You swallowed heavily again and perched yourself up on an elbow, leaning in to him with every intention of planting a protective kiss to his temple.

It might have been the shift of your posture that triggered it, or more likely, his patience diminished by your continued probes for information that he wasn’t willing to share, but a sudden banishment of lassitude saw him instantly tossing the sheet from his naked form and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Horrified and disappointed, you hurried to mirror his movements, kicking away the bunched cotton from your knees and pushing yourself to a kneeling position on the mattress directly behind him. Your lids narrowed to near-closed against the sudden ignition of the lamp on the nightstand, but neither the pain nor the spots now floating in your vision were enough to stop you from firmly wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him firmly against your chest. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips softly against his back, did he seem to notice your touch, and even then, his only acknowledgement was to peer, frowning, over his shoulder in your direction.

“Please, love,” you breathed against his skin. “Don’t run. Just talk to me.”

A soft sigh forced his shoulders into a defeated slump, and the tender drape of his hand atop his navel where yours were tightly clasped, lacked much of the warmth and intention that typically swaddled his touch.

“They were… tortured.” His head drooped sadly toward his chest, the previously urgent mission of collecting his clothes from their scattered placement on the floor, momentarily deferred.

It was the initial shock that he’d even answered you that forced your lips to still against his skin, forgoing the ever-present urge to pepper him with chaste kisses for the sake of listening to the response that he’d previously deemed you unworthy of getting, but it was the horrifying implications of his explanation that forced your eyes open and the pain that drenched his words as they left his scowling lips that sent an all-consuming chill down your spine.

“All of them,” he continued quietly to his lap, absently drumming his fingers against the back of your hand. “Just— just stripped of their will, their identities… and made to carry out the commands of a sick, sick man. They never stood a chance. No one could survive that.”

He permitted himself one last, poignant sigh, the emptying of his lungs pulling his posture away from your still poised kiss, and it wasn’t until his palm departed yours, fracturing the wreath of your arms around his waist, that you returned to some semblance of awareness. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, beating against his back where the diffused glow of the lamp failed to soften the appearance of several misshapen scars along his shoulder; scars that you’d seen countless times previously, and had paid only little attention to.

Robbed of coherent thought by the repulsion surging through your veins, and rendered utterly speechless by the knowledge that you’d so desperately craved, you dropped your gaze to your knees, unmoving eyes watching them thrown intermittently into shadow as Kix moved about beside the bed, redressing himself in a suit of black compression, and the rigid, scuffed armament.

It was the soft scrape of plastoid against wood that broke you from your revolted torpor, his lean frame now completely encompassed in the blue suit that you despised, his helmet retrieved from the nightstand and hanging slackly from a gloved hand at his side. The sight of his impending departure returned you to a jarring cognizance and sent you frantically scrambling from the bed, bare feet ignoring the bite of the cold floor as you dashed toward the chair beside the window and collected the robe that you’d unceremoniously tossed onto it hours previously.

“Wait, Kix!”

You clumsily thrust your fists into the arms of the silk garment, your entire body laced with an exigent need to reach the doorway before he did. He couldn’t leave this time, not now… not now that he was finally opening up, finally sharing something other than trivial grievances about his crew members. He needed to know what you thought… how you felt. You had to tell him that none of it mattered to you… none of it made any difference. Except it did. It made all the difference. You thought you loved him then. That was nothing compared to now. And there was nothing that would stop you from loving him; not a past full of trauma, not tears leaking from his eyes, not the whispers that he denied hearing when the room got too quiet. None of it made a difference to you except that it did, and you would willingly spend the rest of your life banishing the ghosts that haunted his every move if he would just let you.

“Can’t— can’t you stay this time?” you pleaded from your perch in the doorway, hastily tying a knot in the sash of your robe. “Even just a little longer?”

The snort that left his nose at the sight of your position, arms wide and clutching each side of the door frame in some pitiful semblance of a barricade, was anything but genuine, betrayed by the failure of the smile on his lips to crinkle his eyes. “Come on, Mesh’la,” he cooed, absently shifting the armoured belt around his waist. “You know I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you argued, refusing to let the softness of his gaze weaken any of your resolve. “You just don’t. There’s a difference and you know that.”

The desperate sadness that encompassed your words surprised both sets of ears; you hadn’t intended for the sentiment to leave your lips drenched in such disappointment, yet his departure tonight felt more like a robbery than it ever had; stealing a fractured piece of you and leaving nothing but a shadow behind to replace it.

That small smile slipped from his features and he froze, upturned helmet held slackly at his side as he hung his head to his chest again. Your heart drummed heavily in your ears, the lump in your throat threatening to all but suffocate you as he stepped slowly forward, the old wood floor beneath you creaking and shifting under the weight of his heavy boots.

“Please don’t start this again, Mesh’la,” he begged in a whisper, tenderly tucking a displaced lock of hair behind your ear as his eyes flickered back and forth between yours. “We’ve been over this. I… I don’t want this for you. You deserve a better life than what I ca—”

“I want this life,” you choked, chin threatening to quiver under the intense duress of your welling disappointment. “I promise— no, listen!— I promise, Kix. I love you more than everything that you’ve been through. In spite of it all… because of it all. Just trust me. Stay with me this time. Let me— let me prove it to you. Let me sho—”

“I know you love me, Mesh’la,” he interrupted, gently cupping your trembling chin and guiding your jaw upwards to look directly into your eyes. “I have never doubted it for a second. In another time… another life, I’d be able to give you back the love you deserve, but… I’m too sad of a man, now. I’m too angry… too volatile… too restless. No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t stomach my past, and I love you enough to not let you suf—”

“I’ll suffer if I choose to!” you blurted, voice thickening in earnest. “I’ll suffer with you. It’s my choice, and I choose you, so just choose m—”

“Why?” he interjected, releasing your jaw and perching his hand on his hip. “Hmm? Why am I your choice? Why do you waste your time with a pirate like me when there are decent men lining up around the planet for your hand? Men that will shower you with gifts and affection? Men that won’t selfishly come and go as they please, like I do?”

“My time with you isn’t wasted, Kix,” you spluttered, eyelids unable to contain the flood of tears blurring your vision, banishing them to the heat of your flushed cheeks. “You don’t listen. I want every minute to be a minute with you. Every hour, every day. Stop running away from what happened to you; stop running from me. We— we can have a real life together.”

The aversion of his gaze to the floor did not stop you. You were too resolute in your convictions; too certain that if he just listened to you, he would finally understand. “I’ll make you caf every morning,” you continued, pulling your hands from the doorframe to hold his. “And… we can shower together every day if we want to. You can make the water as hot as you want, and I won’t complain… I promise. We— we can grow berries in the field out back, on the other side of the tree line. You know, in that clearing where the flowers grow? The spot that gets all the afternoon sun? And… and we can brew our own wine. We—”

“Please stop.”

He was pleading with you in more ways than just the despondent words that left his lips; his dark eyes watching in something near agony as the tears abandoned your cheeks for the draped silk of your robe, but you were deaf to the desperation in his voice and blind to the anguish in his eyes as vivid images of what could-be erupted like a tragic film in your mind.

“We can climb onto the roof and look at the stars on clear nights,” you persisted, releasing his palm and guiding your trembling hands onto the rough and worn plastoid of his shoulder bells. “And when it’s not, we’ll snuggle on the couch and listen to music. We’ll get drunk… and giggle about stupid shit… and make love in every room… an—”

“Please, Mesh’la.” He clamped his eyes closed, cowering beneath your watery gaze and gently tugging your hands from his shoulders, pausing to hold them weakly in his own for a breath before dropping them completely. “You have to sto—”

“No, Kix!” you refused, stomping your cold, bare foot on the floor below you. “You stop! Stop saying you don’t want this life for us, because you do!”

“OF COURSE I DO!”

Your hands flew back to brace yourself in the doorway, shoulders jerking with fright, choked breaths freezing in your lungs. He’d never shouted like that before… and if he had, it certainly hadn’t been in your presence. Never once had you seen his eyes shrink behind lids so narrowed that the even the bridge of his nose scrunched to assist in their efforts. You’d never seen his thick, expressive brows contract so tightly and shoot toward the messy curls of his hairline in such earnest, and you’d never seen a look quite like that in his eyes… the frenzied look of a man desperate to be understood.

“Of— of course I want all of that,” he continued, his tone softening slightly as the ghost of his outburst rang back at him from the quiet corners. “But it’s not that simple. You don’t understand. I want it, Mesh’la, but I shouldn’t have it. I can’t have it. Why… why do I deserve the promise of a quiet life, when they never even had a chance at one? Why should I be the only one gifted with a happy ending, when they were robbed of theirs? If they can’t have it, then I ca—”

His voice cracked… fractured under the duress of the emotion simmering too near the surface, and it echoed more poignantly around the room than the hoarse shout which preceded it. That quiet moment, as you watched his shoulders sag in complete and utter dejection, with his head slowly shaking against a myriad of thoughts that he refused to speak, you would have withstood nearly anything to ensure the music of his voice never cracked like that again. You would have agreed to stand near-naked in the doorway for all eternity, willing to shoulder any amount of shouting, any verbal reprovement… anything if it promised him true peace from the sorrow that robbed him of his voice… of his life.

The threat of a sob forced your face into your clammy palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes until tiny, glimmering phosphenes erupted in your vision. Why couldn’t it all be as beautiful as those silly little dancing lights, brought to life with just a slight pressure from a small hand? Why could people not be free to dance about in darkness, as they are? Why must our darkness diminish our light? Why are those pretty dancing lights, free from the plague of guilt and sorrow, forever permitted to slumber until external pressure brings them to life, an occasion in which they shine so marvelously?

The thunk of his boots and the creak of the floor signaled his slow approach. “I have to go, Cyare,” he mumbled into the space beside your ear, his free hand dusting soft strokes up and down your forearm.

You exposed your tear-streaked face and stared blankly across the room, unwilling to nod and acknowledge the disappointment. So this wasn’t going to be the time that he stayed.

“You know I love you,” he muttered into your hairline before planting a soft kiss on your temple, but the disillusionment had numbed you almost entirely, and you felt nothing of his lips on your skin, nor the brush of his body slipping past you through the door… you heard none of his footsteps fading down the hallway… nothing of the door closing behind him as he disappeared into the diminishing darkness outside… nor did you hear the roar of his speeder engine reverberating around the corners of your secluded paradise, all too eager and willing to rob you of him again.

tags: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @523rdrebel

#starqueenswrittenworks #kix x reader #kix x you #pirate!Kix x reader #Kix fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic

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fluentisonus · 11 months

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Hello, sorry if you’ve already said this before, but where are you finding your folk songs? like a specific book or website? (i’m always looking to expand my collection and i have never heard of long lankin before)

thanks in advance :D

Hey!!

So originally I just got folk songs from ones I heard growing up, because my dad was fond of folk music & played me a number of bands I'm still fond of. A lot of ones I come across now are still basically from rabbit holes of songs I fell down with these.

However! If you're looking for more thorough catalogues of folk songs, the main ones you come across are:

Child Ballads -- These are only ballads. They were collected by Francis James Child in the 19th century, and they're all numbered, so if you've seen songs mentioned as like "Child 93" that's why, especially because a lot of these songs don't have consistent names. They're primarily collected in his 5 Volume book The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (Vol. 1, Vol. 2, Vol. 3, Vol. 4, Vol. 5), linked there to where you can read it for free. The great thing about these is it will list all the variations of the songs he found as well as where he found them, with a little scholarly discussion of the song and its history on each. As someone that loves like. the process of transmission & the context of songs this is very appealing to me personally. It is old fashioned in its scholarship etc though.

Roud Folk Song Index -- This is a Much larger more modern index of songs: for comparison there are only 305 child ballads, whereas the Roud Index has nearly 25,000 songs (including all the Child ones). These also have numbers, so you'll often see something like "Child 93; Roud 6" where they overlap, or "Roud 2989" where they don't. Obviously because it's so big there's no book for them all, and likewise not as much commentary on individual songs. You can search them by number here, or by subject (!!!) here. The fact that this index exists is really cool, and especially that you can search it like that, although sometimes I find it a bit hard to get what I want, or have it layed out as clearly as in Child, I think just because it's so big.

This isn't really a major index like Child and Roud so you won't get it cited anywhere, but Mainly Norfolk is an index of folk songs mainly focusing on more modern recordings of the songs and their different variations. So for example you'll get a page for a songs and it'll tell you all the bands that have recorded it, and the differences in their lyrics, and what they said about the song on the back of the CD, etc. Which is fun for me particularly because I'm often accessing them through having listened to modern recordings and I'm curious about that.

You can also find various collections of broadsides and things (Roud includes a lot of broadsides I believe but if you want to look at them specifically), one of my favorites is the Bodleian Libraries online collection, which even has images of a lot of them I believe. This is fun if you like print sources.

And then a lot of these I'm just searching in Youtube as well, haha. You never know what old man recording a song he heard from his grandmother with 10 views and 2 likes you might find.

I hope this was helpful & answered the question! I will say I don't have any sort of expertise in this, it's entirely based on me just fooling around, so if anyone more knowledgeable than me has anything to add or any corrections to make feel free!

#thoughts #ask #anon

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v-lilith-v · 7 months

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[photo id: (Graphite and paper drawing) Rear view of Crowley and Aziraphale as angels. They are wearing white robes. Crowley is sheltering Aziraphale from shooting stars. Under their feet are lyrics from the song "Coming Home" by Falling in Reverse; "Transmission from the stars." Below that is the star Alpha Centauri, And below that is continuation of the lyrics; "A message from the atmosphere". /End id]

Transmissions from the stars

A message from the atmosphere

part before this:

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astromechs · 9 months

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9 for rebelcaptain from the Taylor lyrics? 👀

remember the han ships rebelcaptain and is also massively behind the 8 ball on it fic from like two weeks ago? here's a sequel. (prompt is six months gone and i’m still reaching, and i interpreted it oh so loosely ghdjks) now also on ao3! taylor swift lyric prompts ; still accepting!

Five months, twenty-eight days, and six hours have passed since he's last had contact with Echo Base.

There have long been operational reasons for Cassian to be in the practice of keeping track of these things: for the anticipation of any potential extraction timeline, for the eventual debrief and report to follow, for the purpose of planning future missions. He’s risen through the ranks in a short period of time, especially compared to the average, for being nothing if not exceedingly thorough — because that’s what the rebellion needs. His attention, his effort, as much as he can give.

It’s only in the past year and a half that any of the reasons have turned personal, that, well, if he’s being honest with himself — many of them have.

When time had meant nothing to him once, other than the operational logging, it seems like his solo assignments tend to drag on for eternity now. He’s given this one no less attention, no less effort than he’s given any other, but in quiet moments between when that’d been needed and in the seconds just before he’d drifted off for a requisite few hours of sleep just to be able to keep going, he’d felt the absence, acutely, of a soft hand in his, of a warm presence by his side. He’d missed the way her nose always scrunches just before describing something particularly annoying, and the way that he’s always rewarded with the most beautiful smile when he throws in the right kind of dry agreement, so fucking much that it had ached.

But, finally, after five months, twenty-eight days, and six hours, he’s securely on a ship, cleared atmosphere, and is enough within hyperspace, away from Imperial territory, to risk a transmission.

Echo Base, though, isn’t his first one — at least, not base command. He’ll report in, of course, when he has a better sense of his ETA, so they’ll have a precise window to lower the shields without incurring unnecessary risk.

His first transmission is in code, for an additional layer of security, to the channel that can only be accessed by Sergeant Jyn Erso. Just one word, which she’ll be able to understand, if she’s reading (because they’d worked out that code, together, not long after Scarif): alive.

Intellectually, he knows there will be a lag (there always is when communicating from hyperspace, among other perfectly logical reasons), so not getting an immediate response shouldn’t, in and of itself, be a cause for concern. Still, in the idle moments — when he’s had so many in the past five months, twenty-eight days, and six hours, so he’s primed to dwell in them — the thoughts begin to circle, heavy in his mind and even heavier when they settle in his chest. They hold possibilities, worst case scenarios. Fears.

For a long time, he’d pushed down fear to the point of nearly forgetting it ever existed. Here now, though, in the waiting, the memory of it is sharp, painful like a blade to the gut.

The line buzzes; the waiting doesn’t have a chance to linger for long.

Two words, in code, bring him all the relief that maybe he still doesn’t deserve to actually have, but that he accepts, allows to wash over him all the same: welcome home.

It’s been five months, twenty-eight days, and seven hours, and he finds that the hours that remain are their own form of excruciating.

Jyn’s there at the exact moment he steps off of the ship and out into the hangar. Of course she is; he hadn’t doubted that for a second. He hadn’t doubted, either, that she wouldn’t wait whatever seconds it would take for him to actually approach her, that she’d take matters into her own hands and run toward him, cutting the time in half.

And he hadn’t doubted that he’d be practically knocked over by the force of their collision, hadn’t doubted that she’d take his breath away with their first kiss in almost six fucking long months.

No, it’s easy, natural, right, the way they fall into each other like no time has passed at all, the way they exist, for this one moment, away from the chill of Hoth and the even colder complexity of their reality. Where he can hold her and she can hold him, and nothing but the fact that they’re together and they love each other.

Except —

Out of the corner of one eye, Cassian is fairly certain that he sees someone moving — when up to this point, as far as he knows, people have done this reunion a courtesy of giving it a wide berth. He pulls back from Jyn, not far, but enough to study the movement, to pinpoint the identity of the person doing the moving with a pretty high degree of certainty; the man in question isn’t exactly subtle, even on his best day.

A crease forms between his brows. He asks, "What's Solo doing here?"

The effect on Jyn is instant. All traces of her smile, her relief, her anything else are all gone; in their place, her jaw sets and her eyes harden in the way that Cassian knows means danger for someone. Her hands fall away from him, curling into fists, and her whole body tenses like she’s gearing up for a fight.

"Leaving," she growls. "That's what he's doing."

She turns away from him, then, in a blink, stalking toward Solo’s direction with single-minded purpose across the hangar. The man is clearly only aware of what’s happening too late, because he doesn’t manage to get away before she’s shoving him, before she’s yelling out a lot of things — most of which Cassian can’t hear, because of the whir of machinery that sounds behind him then, but a very clear “Get fucked!” does manage to reach his ears.

There’ll be a debrief to attend, and a report to file, because the intelligence he’s gathered is valuable. But for now, he’s content to watch this play out in front of him, and allow the ghost of a smile to tug on the corners of his mouth.

#rebelcaptain #cassian andor #jyn erso #* fic #* prompt fic #asks #andorerso #finally circling back to these again a literal million years later LMAO

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fairest · 2 months

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AGAINST AUTOTHEORY aka THEORY TEXT AS WILLING DILDO

As this confluence with autofiction illustrates, the reduction of theory’s mediations down to amiable oozing incorporates the niche of academic knowledge production into the booming personalist genre industry. Moreover, autotheory comports as dexterous academic labor, projecting a fantasy that courting extra-mural audiences can make up for downsizing in the intellectual professions. Its vulnerability enkindles senior academics bored of theory’s many funerals, imagining eager readerships in a great beyond, and ignites younger academics searching for openings in an economic and professional landscape of foreboding foreclosure; its elasticity bodes a space for young academics to create work and find recognition even though the university as an institution has largely expelled them. Gigification of academic labor crams academic production: manifest your individual take in your individual style with this short-term teaching contract here, this Substack subscriber there. In this way, autotheory must be seen as efflux of a context in which theorists with fair labor conditions like tenure encounter their dire lack of peer audience, and theorists without fair labor conditions hustle for crossover appeal to eke out a living.

Aphoristic form props many of these texts thanks to its elliptical dance of vaporescence and glut, simultaneously pausing and flowing, at once crystal and aporia, snubbing and solicitous. They disrupt linearity, argumentative progression, and academic citation, boarding tiny theses absent plodding hallways. Pushing prose poems like other writers in the literary milieu, these genre melds are charming, accessible. We are drawn out of the realm of abstraction and solicited into a lyrical presence, a seductive proximity that subtracts the medium of theory’s abstractions and generalizations, achieving immersion. Reclining into life-writing, recoiling from argumentation, such retreats attain great resonance and beauty even as they whittle away theory’s distinct value, and recode theoretical knowing from revelatory to idiosyncratic. Immediatist theories posit a smooth continuum of body–experience–knowledge; bolster reflexive, passionate attachments as more legitimate than reason; refuse “symptomatic reading” in order to immanentize content. “It is what it is,” immediacy theory incants.

Such frolicking provocative insurgence of sensuous stimulation against linguistic or conceptual sense erects the theory text as willing dildo. It is bold in its shedding of academic composure, compelling in its self-disclosure, and titillating in its seductive posture—although decidedly unsexy. These are acute and perhaps even vulnerable performances, insuring in advance that assessing them critically would amount to some kind of mean violation—and that seems indeed to be the very point: to be so effulgently bare and corporeally vivid as to preclude distance-taking or concept-making. Immediacy as the unambiguous transmission of affect from author to reader, autonomic responses imagined untainted by the symbolic.

— Anna Kornbluh, from Immediacy

#autotheory #autofiction #McKenzie Wark #maggie nelson #Anna Kornbluh

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jennyfromthebes · 27 days

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Hey! I wanna talk for a sec about the Live Music Archive. If you're a tMG fan who's on here you probably already at least know about it, but for anyone unfamiliar I want to do a quick post talking about what it is and how you can listen!

The Live Music Archive is a collection hosted by the Internet Archive for audio recordings of concerts. Specifically, the LMA hosts, with permission from the band, user-contributed recordings of concerts. Some fans will go to concerts with recording gear to take a full audio recording of the show and then upload it to the archive under the band's collection. As of writing this post there are almost 450 live tapes uploaded to the tMG LMA collection!

There's a few ways that you can listen to recordings on the Live Music Archive. The webpage works pretty well both on desktop and mobile browsers, and that's what I typically use. You can also listen on web without having to make an account on the Internet Archive, which is convenient for browsing. I also use the webpage to download mp3s of favorite tapes to my phone, so that I can listen to them in my local music player.

However, if you don't mind making a free account and prefer the convenience of something more like Spotify, you can also listen to anything on the LMA via the Taper's Section app for Android or the Live Music Archive app for iOS! (Obligatory disclaimer that I use an Android and can't personally vouch for the iOS app, but afaik they have similar features.) The apps have the same functionality as the webpage in a more streamlined mobile-friendly interface, plus things like notifications when there's a new tape added to a collection you follow and downloading in-app for offline listening. The Android app also has a tab for tapes from today's date, there's often at least one (there are FOUR for today!) and that's a really fun way to find tapes to listen to.

If you're looking at this going, wow, that sounds really cool but there's so many tapes that it's a little overwhelming to get into this, don't worry! I'll leave you with a couple recommendations. As mentioned above, I like to listen to shows from the current date. Another fun way to find shows is looking for a specific song - you can go on the wiki and it'll list every show at which the song has been played live, and then just search until you find one of them that has a tape on the archive. Lastly, a few specific favorite tapes of mine:

- 2014-06-15 has the entirety of Taboo VI: The Homecoming played live + one of my absolute favorite performances of both Woke Up New and The Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton.

- 2015-06-01 is the only time Straight Six has ever been played live and it's interestingly pretty different from the EP version, plus a phenomenal back to back Spent Gladiator 1 & 2.

- 2021-08-06 was the first show after the band started playing concerts again post 2020, and it has a really incredible energy and a phenomenal setlist.

- 2024-03-01 is from the recent run of solo shows, this one was at Grace Cathedral and the ambience is truly truly incredible, it feels so ethereal.

Please feel free to add any additional notes or some of your own favorite tapes to the post as well! Happy listening!!

#txt #transmissions from lyric #the mountain goats #tmg #tapes #theres a post of live tape recs that im gonna go back and rb after this #and im also gonna start posting some favorite live recordings regularly! which is why i wanted to make this post!#the LMA is such an incredible resource #and at some point ill make a followup post about how to contribute to the LMA but thats a later post #resources

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whiskeyswriting · 1 year

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Natural | Chapter 3: Fighter

{ Masterlist }

📝A/N: Song lyrics incorporated will be in bold and blue. Flashbacks will be italicized. Any lines or scenes used from the books and/or movies will be done in green. I do not own the characters of the Divergent series. The credit for that goes to Veronica Roth for creating the series. As such, anything in green or blue are the intellectual property of their respective owners.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

Lost in your own thoughts at the results of the game, you head back towards the train to get back to the compound. Keeping an eye on Eric and Four, you make sure to jump into an empty train car to read your intel.

Unwrapping the small bundle, you remove the blank piece of paper and discreetly hold it up to the light. You’re able to see small indentations but not markings are showing up. You then remember you still had a few rounds of the paintballs in your pocket.

You break one open and smear the paint over the paper. Slowly the markings start appearing.

“|0N9-R4N93 +R4N$M1$$10N $3RUM. PR0C33D \/\/1+H C4R3. +H3 0+H3R $0URC3 \/\/1|| $00N B3 R3V34|3D”

‘Why did it have to be in leet? It gives me a headache,’ you think as you start to decode the message. It was easy for you to do so. Perhaps a bit too easy.

While time was of the essence, you knew this was not a challenge for you. Then again you had limited resources to try and decode any intel in Morse or binary code.

As the message, became more and more clear , you kept repeating it to memorize it. ‘Long-range transmission serum. Proceed with care. The other source will soon be revealed.’

Before jumping off the train, you made sure to destroy the paper and vial so no evidence could be found on you.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

After dinner, you decided to train some more. The final fight will be in the coming weeks so you still have to keep up your skills and not slack.

You’re at the training room and punching at the bag when a shadow falls over you. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. His scent is already engrained into your memory since the day you rode in his car.

“What are you doing up initiate?” Eric asks from behind you.

You can’t help yourself when you respond “Oh you know… Just some cooking and cleaning….”

He grunts in annoyance at your response.

“Obviously I’m training. Just because I’m in the top three spots doesn’t mean I will be getting complacent with training,” you clarify.

"Well off you go. You should be sleeping... Like the other initiates. You don't get to make your schedule."

You sigh in annoyance. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You are. You come here thinking you know everything. Thinking you're better than everyone else..."

You don't let him get to you as you tune out his complaining and you get to working on your fighting. That just pissed him off.

Eric moves quick and takes down the bag and starts fighting with you. "How about training one-on-one? Huh? Maybe that'll scare you off to actually listen." He goes to deliver a punch but you quickly evade him. Your eyes quickly study his fighting stance and learn his moves.

What you don't notice is that he had already been studying you and your fighting. He sweeps his leg under yours, causing you to trip and fall. The fall is so sudden that your chin hits the ground first.

You are quick to get back up before he can attack again.

“I see you learned to get up faster,” he says.

“A dauntless may fall but they never stay down,” you reply immediately, the words from your own training back in Erudite coming back.

“What did you say?” Eric says as he sweeps your legs with his and pins you against the ground in less than a blink.

His hands pin your above your head, his face close to yours. So close you could swear he’s about to kiss you.

Except he only whispers in your ear. “You’re the other one, aren’t you? The other spy?”

You keep your face neutral, already having prepared for this moment. You steady your breathing to calm your heart rate.

“I can feel you heart slowing down. Oh you’re good initiate… Here I thought there was no way an initiate could be the spy…”

You swallow gently, trying to keep your composure.

“Oh don’t worry initiate. I’ve seen the hidden tattoo on your ribcage. In invisible ink,” his fingers trace over your shirt by where the tattoo is. He remains on top of you but lets go of your hands so he can lift his shirt.

Your eyes roam over all the black ink until they fall over a small are that’s raised. The same area as your own invisible tattoo.

Before you can ask him to confirm if it means what you think it means, voices are heard just around the corner. Eric quickly helps you up and pushes you against the wall and covers your body with his.

The voices stop when the group sees Eric. They can see he’s with a female but they can’t make out who it is. The group continues to walk after smirking at Eric.

You can hear the group already moved away but Eric still is standing close to you. Not that you’ll complain. It’s not until your hands are on him that he reacts.

Instead of pulling away, he’s pressing his lips to yours and pulling you in even closer. “I always knew there was something about you,” he says as he continues to kiss you.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

Tag List: @taina-eny @ghostedgrim @l0nelygamer

#mrsjaderogerswrites #eric coulter #eric coulter x reader #eric divergent #eric coulter rewrite #eric coulter imagine #divergent eric coulter #divergent fandom #divergent fanfiction #divergent series

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mediadollz · 9 months

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LUNARIX’S DEBUT MINI ALBUM “ THE MOONDUST CATALOG ” TRACK SAMPLER !

After much trials and tribulations, LUNARIX formerly known as ANGELGIRLZ made their debut with the mini album "THE MOONDUST CATALOG" featuring six tracks written by the members of Lunarix themselves.

The mini album hosts an impressive list of producers from the musical return of Son Jinhwa to the reunion of producing dup SUGA + Noir. Many HYBE producers were featured on the album including M.I.A, Noir, and SUGA. The album also features Supersonic's Choi Sookyung AKA HONEYTRAP (@bttrflyeffekt) as a producer and Angelico artists Elliot and Zasha on the producers' list.

LUNARIX Unveils "THE MOONDUST CATALOG": A Cosmic Exploration with Room to Grow

Rating: 6.8/10

LUNARIX, the six-member powerhouse from Angelico Entertainment, makes a celestial splash with their debut mini-album "THE MOONDUST CATALOG." Bursting onto the K-pop scene with an impressive display of creative energy, the group's six tracks showcase both their lyrical ingenuity and rhythmic experimentation. Pitchfork's critical ear takes a keen listen, delivering a rating of 6.8 out of 10 – a score that reflects the group's promising debut while acknowledging the spaces for growth.

"ATTENTION!" - Familiar Echoes with a Fresh Spin

"ATTENTION!" ignites the journey with a sound reminiscent of K-pop's glorious past. The group treads on familiar ground, paying homage to the infectious energy of f(x)'s "Rum Pum Pum Pum." While the track's rhythm and beats capture attention, it's the lyrics that raise an eyebrow. LUNARIX cleverly weaves a narrative of unexpected first love, presenting it like a riddle waiting to be solved. The lyrical delivery mirrors the track's heartbeat, brimming with playful curiosity.

"So Pitiful" - Assertive Resilience Amidst Familiarity

In "So Pitiful," LUNARIX empowers themselves through assertive lyrics that evoke the feistiness of 2NE1's "Go Away." The rhythmic architecture amplifies the song's resolve, creating a sonic realm that's both audacious and resolute. This time, it's not the rhythm but the lyrical narrative that raises a contemplative eyebrow. While the empowerment anthem resonates with unapologetic authenticity, occasional lyrical clichés dim the song's brilliance.

"No Words, All Silence" - Vulnerability in Sonic Elegance

LUNARIX delves into the realm of vulnerability with "No Words, All Silence." The ethereal rhythm blankets the track, reminiscent of the softer moments in Red Velvet's discography. It's a song where the lyrics take center stage, capturing the essence of a communication breakdown within a relationship. The melancholic beats harmonize with the bittersweet storytelling, invoking a sense of nostalgia and introspection.

"Our Miracle" - Dreams and Rhythms Intertwined

"Our Miracle" soars on dreamy rhythms that encapsulate the sensation of flight, echoing F(x)'s "Airplane." The lyrics paint a picture of unity and shared aspirations, but it's the song's rhythmic journey that sometimes falters. While LUNARIX's harmonies ride high, there's a lingering desire for the rhythm to be as audacious as the group's dreams.

"Endless Falling" - Echoes of Longing in Rhythmic Quandary

The melancholic cadence of "Endless Falling" mirrors the sensation of drifting through a starlit abyss, akin to Red Velvet's "Kingdom Come." Lyrically, the track excels in conveying the anguish of love's persistence, but the rhythm occasionally loses its grip. The beats meander through the emotional expanse, creating a yearning ambiance that could benefit from a more defined sonic trajectory.

"Missed Call" - Sonic Connections and Unfulfilled Promise

"Missed Call" transmits its message through intricate rhythmic transmissions, echoing the electronic currents of F(x)'s "Signal." The lyrics embody longing and missed opportunities, resonating with anyone familiar with the pangs of communication gone astray. While LUNARIX's vocals navigate the intricate rhythms adeptly, the track feels on the precipice of fully realizing its sonic potential.

A Promising Voyage into the Cosmos...

LUNARIX's debut mini-album "THE MOONDUST CATALOG" beams with creative spark and potential. Their songwriting prowess shines through in the carefully crafted lyrics, which often serve as poignant reflections of human emotion. The album navigates the cosmos of K-pop with varied rhythmic choices, at times venturing into familiar territories while occasionally pushing towards uncharted horizons. With a critical yet hopeful rating of 6.8/10, LUNARIX's celestial journey has just begun, promising a future where they may truly soar among the stars of the K-pop galaxy.

#˖˵˵˵˵˵˵ଘ( ꈍᴗꈍ)⋆ DISCOGRAPHY #ficnetfairy #oc kpop group #fictional idol community #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #idol oc #oc girl group #fake kpop idol #idolverse #fictional idol group #idol au #bts addition #kpop addition #kpop au #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop group

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literallyjustanerd · 1 month

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Could you do Cody or Fox for the music thing? Thank you 💖

Thanks for the ask!! And for the two excellent choices. I ended up doing both :) I'll list the songs first then share some details below the cut:

Cody:

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Shelter - Porter Robsinson

Way Out There - Lord Huron

Fox:

Typhoons - Royal Blood

Uprising - Muse

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

Anyone else who wants a 3 song playlist on a character of their choice, please feel free to drop a name in my inbox!

My favourite lyrics from each song and some character rambling below:

Cody:

I love Cody so goddamn much okay he's such a good character for the little we see of him. He's strong but gentle and so scarily competent but he doesn't ask for glory. He's absolutely lethal in a fight but he still tries to end conflict with peace and negotiation wherever he can. He falls so easily into the "big brother" role and gives so much of himself to his brothers without hesitation.

He knows the clones' lot in life and instead of fighting against the inevitable, he puts his strength into fighting for his brothers. The songs I chose (it wasn't an easy choice lol) ended up having a common thread of fighting on despite knowing you'll never have a place in history or be remembered like you should. Because I love to make myself sad about Cody.

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Started out seeking fortune and glory It's a short song, but it's a hell of a story When you spend your lifetime Trying to get your hands on the holy grail ... I followed orders, God knows where I’ve been But I woke up alone, all my wounds were clean I’m still here I’m still a fool for the holy grail

Shelter - Porter Robinson

When I'm older, I'll be silent beside you I know words won't be enough And they won't need to know our names or our faces But they will carry on for us ... And it's a long way forward, so trust in me I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me

Way Out There - Lord Huron

I'm a long way from the land that I left I've been running through life and cruising toward death If you think that I'm scared, you've got me wrong If you don't know my name, you know it now I belong bodily to the earth I’m just wearing old bones from those who came first There are many more flames when mine is gone They will build me no shrines and sing me no songs

Fox:

Okay I've never really been a Fox girlie but the more I think about him the more I do love exploring his whole deal with being closest to the Chancellor during the war.

Typhoons - Royal Blood

These songs ended up being incredibly angsty and mostly about having your own mind turned against you, inspired by the idea that Fox always had his inhibitor chip slightly active to keep him compliant with Palpatine's orders. Especially when Fox's own free will ran explicitly counter to what he was ordered to do - i.e. shooting down his own brother. I still haven't forgiven him for Fives

The last song is actually about the US, it was released in 2020 about Trump's presidency, but oddly enough I think it fits pretty well in this scenario too lol...

Flashbacks, I’m not letting go Tear me up, cast a shadow I got game face, but it’s all for show Can’t give it up, blow my cover ... My thoughts becoming parasites They live to keep me terrified I tell myself I’ll be alright Typhoons keep on raging, and I don’t know why

Uprising - Muse

Paranoia is in bloom The PR transmissions will resume They’ll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down And hope that we will never see the truth around Another promise, another scene Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed And all the green belts wrapped around our minds And endless red tape to keep the truth confined

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

I can feel my brain a-changin’, acclimating to the madness I can feel my ourrage shifting into a dull, despondent sadness I can feel a crust growing over my eyes like a falcon hood I’ve got the normalisation blues This isn’t normal, this isn’t good I’m detached and I’m distracted, all keyed up but unproductive Vacillating between being all excited and disgusted And then dozing lackadaisically in this bubble where I’ve made my mental home Connection’s more important now than it ever was, but I’d rather be alone

#thank you again for the ask this was so fun #i love to overthink both song lyrics and my favourite characters so this got me so invested #sw tcw #commander cody #commander fox #ask game #character playlist #answers #cc 2224 #cc 1010

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i-identify-as-an-ominous-threat · 2 months

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Endlessly, endlessly, wandering, wandering, destiny, destiny, set me free, set me free, lonely, lonely, the lonely one...?

single, lonely, gone, forgotten. empty in this world that's rotten... why? oh why? paler then this endless city, frail and far beyond your pity. no, I know... years do take their toll? abandoned to the ever waiting eyes of.

something...

endlessly, endlessly, watching me- haunting me, "run away!" "run away!" from that day? from that day? and I wait, at the end, of this... long hall...?

echoes of my long lost friend, the beating heart of my revenge, I wait- oh, why? echoes of an endless city- frail and far beyond your pity. how could I have known? nothing lasts forever, hiding in a raincoat...

turn and flee, turn and flee...! listen please..., listen please, this disease, how it feeds, on you and me, you and me set us free, from disease-

They Are Watching.

Stuck inside a lonely prison, bearer of the sole transmission. Heed the Call. Ticking of a thousand clocks, the man inside a paradox. It's been so long... signal of the damned, was it just like you planned? 1 2 3 4 5 and 6......

Monochrome photos roam. this cold home, this dark home... fools and gnomes, ghouls and crouns... creaks and groans, freaks and gnomes. travel back, far and past, cycle starting...

lady of the maw reborn, now tell us what you saw before the swarm, the horde... memories of the man, the broadcast, step into the past, for our last hope. say it's not too late?

or tell me why you hesitated??

He Is Watching.......

endlessly,, I am endlessly,,

suffering! I am suffering!

heed my call- it's the bane of all- right before I fall- to the watching walls- and my destiny- in this frequency-

You.

Let.

Me.

Go.

will my nightmare ever end?

the one inflicted by my friend? my ~~only~~ friend..

will I suffer on in silence?

harbinger of hate and violence... seeds you've sown...? lost and so alone.

a traveler in a television. waiting, endlessly...!

I copy and pasted this into google and they're lyrics for a song called "Lonely" Why must you call me out this way?

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