#just a story teller

[oddbeautysyndrome]

#ryankingnow #oddbeautysyndrome #ryanking #ryank #just a story teller

[084392]

my interpretation of rt ninetales...

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #ninetales #rt rewrite #<-suuuuuree what th hell why not. #my art #left parts of the story vague on purpose. #the rest of its vague bc im not a good story teller and just wanted to get the basic gist down. anyways.

[ijustthinkhesneat]

I genuinely like to believe that Bruce’s natural state is Brucie. His resting persona. I think Bruce is smart don’t get me wrong, but you can be smart and ditzy. My citation is Legally Blonde.

I think the Batman persona for him is ultimately a flexing of the mental muscles. Like he read one article on how to be a serious adult and was like I’m gonna do that at 9000%.

I believe that after Jason died is when Batman stopped being the mask, at least for a while. And yeah trauma, dead kid. But it’s also because Bruce was in the reverse position to when his parents were murdered. He was the parent who outlived his child. So he couldn’t afford to not be on edge, the vulnerability it takes to be silly and mess wasn’t going to keep his other son safe. It wouldn’t keep Dick or Tim or Damian safe.

I think if they steered back to Bruce learning to be vulnerable around his friends and especially around his family the comics could be so much better and set the base for many more stories that weren’t a repeat of the same cycle of abuse. It feels like the comics have been hell bent on breaking these characters for so long. Chipping them down to the worst, darkest parts of themselves. And that’s fine. But the writers don’t know when to stop. They can’t see that there is nothing left to break anymore.

#DC Comics #batsalt #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #dc batman #tim drake #nightwing #red hood #Woo that got way more philosophical than I wanted it to #I feel like this isn’t just a DC comics thing #So many businesses seem to not know when their stories have reached a narrative dead end #and instead of rewinding to find where they went wrong they just keep digging the hole #like when will corporate story tellers realize that fighting their fans is only gonna scream them in the end?

[oshiawaseni]

Alright guys here’s some Hori-brand freshly juiced bkdk meta.

Before chapter 415, I was writing a post on twitter about how I really love the “Dokun” of Shigaraki’s heart beat when Izuku punched him and how it’s the same sound effect for Izuku’s panic attack and also when Katsuki’s bead of sweat brought his heart back to life.

at the end of my post I casually wrote: It definitely feels like this is being written in a way that gives: “memories are bringing Shigaraki’s heart back to life.” and then it just freaking hit me about the other place DOKUN showed up… chapter 403… Katsuki’s first appearance after reviving.

I realised OH. OH SHIT!! “DOKUN” is the onomatopoeia Hori has been using for their hearts being brought back to life…

Katsuki in the literal sense, Shigaraki in the spiritual sense, Izuku in the ROMANTIC sense.

Now that we have Shigaraki's example of it, we can see this pattern that “DOKUN” is Horikoshi's chosen sound for hearts being revived.

And if we look back to after Izuku's panic attack, with this retrospect, we can surmise that the one last big “DOKUN” was drawn when Katsuki was finally revealed alive because Izuku’s “heart” had revived.

And so through the narrative’s subtleties, we are once again being told that Kacchan is Izuku’s heart. 🧡💚

#just wanted to share another sneaky Hori detail BECAUSE HE IS KING OF DETAILS and i freaking LOVE listening to him #You really can’t deny the power of Horikoshi’s narrative… what a story teller. #bakudeku #bkdk #bkdk canon #Bnha meta #must read meta #become my heart

[protectorsoftheearth]

I'm having thoughts, about the fact that Suvi's default position when getting Ame's note is to not trust it and think Ame lied to her for their own personal gain. Like nothing Ame has done up to this point warrants that distrust, I don't remember a time when Ame has lied to Suvi. Ame has always tried to be upfront with her which has led to some tension. But Suvi, is always lying, always twisting the trust to suit her needs, lying to herself, the people around her, to get whatever she needs. Whatever she wants. I just think the position of complete mistrust towards others that have never given you reason to mistrust is such a reflection of yourself.

I also think Suvi's constant combativeness and mistrust of Ame and her intentions is both a reflection of her own faults and a result of her insecurity. But ALSO that Ame poses a threat to Suvi's understanding of herself and the world. Whether that is a subconscious knowing, or a conscious one, I think on some level Suvi knows that Ame doesn't see the world the same way she does, and will challenge her on it and whilst so far Suvi has managed to one up her and shout her down and stay one step ahead, she won't be able to do that forever. Because Ame was always wise when they were kids, Ame was always steadfast, and Ame sweet wonderful Ame always learnt so. Damn. Fast. And that is a problem for Suvi.

#worlds beyond number #the wizard the witch and the wild one #wwwo #once again its thinking about Suvi hours #suvi #suvirin kedberiket #ame #eursulon #i also think thats why shes less combative with eurulon #cause he doesnt challenge her as much #it would also be less easy for her to steamroll him in terms of i know the outside world more than you because she doesnt #aabria iyengar #erika ishii #lou wilson #these three make the best characters #them along with Brennan are just such good story tellers #its incredible

[hellosunnycore]

✧ serenity ✧

#been trying to finish up some wips from last year #dnd #unicorn #tiefling #d&d #dnd character #goth #d&d character #monochrome #grayscale #moon and stars #black and white #again I really don't know how to tag anything lol #I love characters with limited palettes and I really ran with it when I designed this guy lol #oc: joy #he's a story teller and a healer who just wants to drink fine wine and date handsome people and I would die for him #fantasy art

[youdidnotseeme]

he’s baby. Murder baby.

#Why is your waist that small #hilariously I just watched tales from the hood and I almost did a spit take because the story teller is alastor right down to the teeth #hazbin hotel #take 2 of attempting #hazbin alastor

[chaostheoryy]

Duly Noted (A College AU)

[Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X GN!Reader]

Summary: As a studious undergrad on track for graduating with stellar marks, missing class because of the flu was by far the worst way to start your week. Fortunately for you, there’s one bright-eyed classmate who cares about you more than his reputation as a C-minus college athlete.

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Well, since my inbox has been dry as the Sahara, I decided to come up with an idea of my own. So, without further ado, here’s the college AU Rooster fic that no one asked for! (No beta, per usual. We out here raw dogging these mistakes.)

Where are you?

Still in bed…

You’re playing hooky without me???

I’m not playing hooky! I’m sick!

You okay?

Yeah I’m alright. Got the flu I think.

Need me to get you anything? I can bring you medicine or snacks after class.

Nah, I’m good. Thank you though!

If you change your mind, lemme know.

Bradley frowned. As benign as the flu was, the thought of you being ill left a bad taste in his mouth. He knew fully well just how much that course meant to you and your degree. While he spent every class lounging in his chair and letting his mind wander to God knows what, you would bury your nose in your notebook or laptop and take notes on everything the professor said as if your life depended on it. He could only imagine just how disappointed you were missing out on a whole lecture’s worth of information.

Dammit…

As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew right away what had to be done.

“Hey, ’Tasha,” he whispered. “Natasha.”

The dark haired woman one row in front of him turned. Eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a sharp line of irritation, her gaze made daggers feel blunt.

“The hell do you want, Bradshaw?”

“You got a pen I can borrow?”

The question took her by complete surprise. Her brow raised, the scowl on her face melting into an amused smirk.

“You’re joking.”

Bob Floyd, her glasses-wearing friend and study partner, was drawn to her disbelief. “What is it?”

“Jockstrap over here is actually going to take notes.”

Bob glanced between her and Bradley. It took him a second to process what was happening but as soon as it hit him, he cracked a massive grin that rivaled Natasha’s.

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Alright, don’t make a big deal of it. You gonna lend me a pen or not?”

“Y’know, part of me wants to say no,” Natasha mused, “But watching you exercise those dusty ol’ brain cells is honestly a rare treat.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She reached into her bag and grabbed an extra pen which she tossed back to him. “Give that back to me after class or I’m gonna beat your ass.”

Bringing two fingers to his temple, he gave a little salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, unable to hide smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

For the first time that semester, Bradley Bradshaw’s untouched notebook was stained with ink.

* * * * *

You had fallen back asleep within minutes of his last text. The previous night had been an absolute nightmare. Violent chills had racked your body and made it impossible to get comfortable. Combining the shivers with the upset stomach and stuffy nose, you were miserable. Any rest you could get throughout the day was God-sent.

Your early morning nap lasted a good two hours. It was the most sound, dreamless sleep you’d had in the past week and, if it weren’t for the fact that Bradley called you just after 10am, you probably would have slept three times as long.

“Hello?” You answered groggily.

On the other end of the line, Bradley hissed. “Shit. Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay. I’ve got all day to sleep. What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna make you get out of bed but I kinda need you to open the door.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Well, I know you said you didn’t need anything but I stopped at the store for stuff anyway. Can you come let me in? I would have one of your roommates open the door but I guess they’re both in class or something.”

You blinked. He was outside of your apartment.

“Yeah, hang on. I’ll be right down.”

Despite the protests of your body, you hurried out of bed. You ditched the sweat-soaked pajama shirt in the laundry basket and threw on a clean tee before stepping out of your room into the main hallway. A short walk to the front door and you pried it open to find Bradley standing on your welcome mat with paper bags of groceries nestled in both arms. He perked up the second he laid eyes on you.

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile.

“Hey. Come on in.”

You stepped back to let him inside, closing the door behind him as he headed for the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time he’d come over and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As one of your closest friends and long-time classmate—it was honestly crazy to think you’d been in classes together as far back as the 7th grade—the two of you spent more time together than apart. Neither of you would have had it any other way.

“I’d give you a hug,” you said as he started unpacking the grocery bags, “But I don’t want to get you sick too.”

He chuckled. “I think I could take the hit.”

“Just ‘cause you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

You spotted a bottle of Gatorade on the counter where he’d unloaded stacks of soup cans and Tylenol. Taking the bottle, you slunk over to the couch where you could watch from a safe distance. The last thing you wanted was to share your germs with one of the school’s star baseball players. As much shit as Jake Seresin gave you and Bradley, something told you that the dickwad would be all the more annoying if he found out you were the one to force Bradley onto the bench for a week.

“How was Simpson’s class this morning?”

“Oh, thrilling as always,” he replied caustically.

“Bob answer every question?”

“You know it.”

You laughed. “Figures. At least we know that means somebody besides me knows their shit. I’ll have to get his notes later so I can catch up.”

“No need. I got you covered.”

Bradley paused his kitchen organization and dug in the backpack he’d discarded on the dining room table. Grinning proudly, he pulled out his notebook. Yes. His notebook—the one and only busted red spiral notebook with a sticker of a goose in aviators slapped on the bottom right corner of its cover.

“Wait. Don’t tell me…You actually took notes for me?”

“Sure did!”

He strolled over and dropped the notebook in your lap before collapsing on the cozy little armchair across from you. The look on his face as he watched you go through his notes was priceless. With big eyes and a triumphant smile, he bore an uncanny resemblance to a golden retriever waiting for his owner to give him a treat. And boy did he deserve one.

The thoroughness of his notes left you stunned. With six pages of organized, neatly scripted notes, it was by far the most effort you’d ever seen him put into classwork.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you said, “You really went all out on this didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “If I wanted any shot at making something up to your standards, I kinda had to. Plus, Bob and Natasha were eyeing me the entire lecture.  I think I finally get what peer pressure’s like now.”

A dull ache echoed in the back of your head as a reminder of your crappy night’s sleep and irritating affliction. You should’ve gone back to bed but you couldn’t pry your eyes from Bradley’s notebook. It meant the world to you that he’d done that. To think that he’d actually put that much effort into notes taken on your behalf when he wouldn’t even have bothered to jot down a single bullet point for himself. 

You flipped through the pages again, unable to hold back an awestruck sigh. “God, I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

The statement was out of your mouth and lingering in the air long before your brain processed the consequences. What on God’s green Earth compelled you to say that? Were you high on over the counter flu meds? Or had the fever actually fried your brain?

You wanted to take it back. Especially when you dared to glance up and found Bradley gaping at you. 

Oh, for the love of God, you thought as fresh, non-fever related color rushed to your cheeks. Of all the ways to confess, this is the one you go with?

In all honesty, you should have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time. 

He’d been your best friend for the better part of a decade. Inseparable from the moment you met. Every big life event from birthdays to buying your first car, he was the first one to celebrate with you. Hell, the guy passed up a full ride to play baseball at the University of Florida just so he could go to the same school as you. 

Slowly but surely, as the years rolled on and childhood faded into the past, the friendship that you treasured became the key to your happiness. The goofy, thrill-seeking kid you’d come to adore and trust with your entire being grew into a selfless gentleman. Though he never lost that edge that separated him from perfectionists and academics, he’d clearly come into his own. It would have been impossible for you not to fall for him.

“Did you just say you wanna kiss me?”

Bradley’s voice reeled you back in from the sea of your internal torment. He didn’t sound angry or even disgusted by the notion. In fact, he almost sounded delighted—a theory that was backed the moment you looked over and saw a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and, despite the outcry from every defense mechanism tucked away in your subconscious, you forced yourself to reply. “I did.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice registering just above a whisper.

“Good.”

Your brow furrowed at his reply. You wanted to ask what he meant, to see if your confession was something the foundations of your friendship could withstand. But he was on his feet and crossing the distance between his chair and the couch before a question was even formulated in your mind.

“Bradley, hold on. I don’t wanna get you si—“

The protest died on your tongue. Warm, gentle hands cupped your jaw as his lips met yours. It was a sweet kiss. There was no hurry, no hesitation. Just the taste of a decade’s worth of fondness and pent up intimacy. Between the soothing caress of his fingertips at the nape of your neck and the bristle of his mustache just above your upper lip, you swore his kiss was better than heaven itself.

His hands kept their post along your jaw when he pulled back to look at you. The smile on his face was unbearably reverent. Anything softer than that look in his eyes and you would have suffocated.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” You asked.

“How long have we been friends?”

Both of you chuckled. Turns out you weren’t the only one who’d gradually fallen over the years.

“Well, thank you,” you said.

“For what?”

You patted the notebook still sitting in your lap. “For thinking of me this morning. And for not flipping out when I said I wanted to kiss you.”

“This may come as a surprise,” he said with a lopsided smirk, “But I think about you a lot.”

Your brow cocked. “Oh, really?”

While it was clear from his tone that he meant it in an innocent, heartfelt manner, you couldn’t help but toy with the more explicit connotation of his words. And let’s be honest, you were guilty of having thoughts that strayed a little too far off the path of purity.

“Hey!” Bradley’s hands fell from your neck and one of his palms playfully shoved you back against the couch by the forehead. “Settle down. You’re supposed to be sick, not horny.”

You reached out to smack his thigh. “And you’re not supposed to be kissing people when they’re sick, dumbass. Jake’s gonna kill me if you end up missing a single practice.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ll just OD on Emergen-C when I get home.”

He ignored your childish pout and plopped down on the couch next to you. Rather than drape his arm over the back of your seat like he normally did, he hooked it around your shoulders and pulled you into the warmth of his embrace. Your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck where the scent of his cologne lulled you into dream-like contentment. You’d always thought he smelled good but nuzzling into him like that made it hard to overlook just how right it felt to be engulfed in his presence.

“You need anything?” He asked after a long moment of agreeable silence. “I can make you some soup if you want. I also got some mac n’ cheese if you’re feeling up to it. I don’t know how bitchy your stomach is acting right now.”

“Bradley?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up and let me fall asleep on you.”

A delightful, weightless sensation twisted in your stomach when you felt a chuckle rumble in his chest. Now there was a feeling you never realized you wanted.

“Alright. You sleep. We’ll get you to eat something when you wake up,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed your approval and closed your eyes. All of your senses zeroed in on him. The way he smelled of cedarwood and ocean breezes, the way his chest rose and fell beneath you with each breath, the way his thumb absentmindedly stroked your shoulder. All of it was new and exciting. And yet, at the same time, it was as if you’d been indulging in the gifts of his adoration your entire life.

In a stark contrast to the evening prior, you fell asleep in record time. 

#Ah yes a shameless Friends to Lovers trope story #Do people even write AU reader inserts? #Well I do I guess #Until I get prompts and story ideas we're just gonna have to take whatever my goofy little brain comes up with #Bradley Bradshaw X Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw X Reader #Rooster X Reader #Reader Insert #Top Gun Reader Insert #Top Gun Imagines #GN!Reader #My fic #Top Gun: Maverick Fic #Miles Teller X Reader

[gumdefense]

Because I have Gumshoe and Kay on the mind and I will always find an excuse to share stage play propaganda can we talk about how perfect their dynamic is in it

English subtitles by Rayne :D and Grace Rivalsforlife !

#ace attorney #aai #aa stage plays #dick gumshoe #kay faraday #general my post tag #not described #in case the part where gumshoe’s explaining the village history is confusing (as to why it’s included) #it’s bc gumshoe doesn’t normally describe cases like that; normally it’s more “here mr edgeworth here are the facts” #but here he gets in story teller mode to make it fun for kay #to the point of almost forgetting about edgeworth lmao #“yes sir” being said like an afterthought #I love them your honor #fun uncle and weird niece of all time #and the way he’s so worried about her augh kill me #I didn’t include them bc I figured it’s just confusing if you don’t know my thought process #but there’s also the moment where the body is found and Kay yells for gumshoe and he comes in RUNNING like what’s wrong ??? #the wrong being a dead body so it’s warranted #but still it’s sweet how fast he comes if he thinks Kay’s in trouble

[compacflt]

So Miles is pitching for a Top Gun: Rooster and I dont think we need a sequel tbh but if we do get a sequel to TGM what would do you think it would look like/you want it to be like?

i don’t care. the storys over.

Let’s do an indy 5/cars 3 situation (gotta keep the IP alive) where mav is in an old persons home with dementia and multiple replaced joints and divorced but somehow the navy still needs him and just him to train the new 20 year old female protégé (maybe amelia for tie-in bonus?) after rooster volunteered to fight in ukraine in 2022 and got shot down and killed a week into the war… And somehow it’s maverick and only maverick who gets behind the yoke to save the day (OMG Tom cruise wins against all odds again)

fun for the whole family and it makes a lot of money 🥳🤑

#how cynical can we make our cash grabs #more or less cynical than tgm already is? #some days i remain unconvinced by tgm #not to be the jaded 20 year old convinced it’s so over all the time #story’s been over since 1986 #this is a hot take i think but mav’s character did not develop at ALL in tgm. he just atoned for past mistakes which is NOT the same as dev #his arc is OVER! #send the dead horse to the glue factory it’s nothing but pulp #(common compacflt hypocrisy) (i also can’t stop writing about these guys) #parroting marisatomay’s assertion that miles teller is a good actor but he does not have movie star juice. he is not gonna get my butt #in the seat for top gun 3 unfortunately. only the airplanes will do that. #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw

[tyresdeg]

#if anyone was interested in hearing james talk about lewis #getting bumped and your first thought is lewis hamilton? bitch me too tf #yes it’s long because he’s a talker. a story teller. #lewis hamilton #james hinchcliffe #target audience of 1 over here #* #this episode was fun though #james relives his indy 500 2018 qualifying #and explains how there was some confusion about the timing #super in depth if you really want to get inside a driver’s head #i just went back and watched some of it and and I forgot how quick #the speedway makes my heart rate 📈📈📈 #ily indy 500 #you bring me so much joy and pain and i love you

[squarebracket-trickster]

I think it is very important that every Writeblr have one irl friend who also is moots with them on tumblr even though they both are on tumblr for very different reasons. Occasionally my carefully curated dash will just have math on it.

I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to my Mathblr irl friend, and only my Mathblr irl friend, for the 20-something straight STS asks I reblogged. RIP your dash. Hope you can find all the math under there somewhere<3

The rest of you followed me for Writeblr content. I'm not sorry for what I've done.

#I'd tag you but I want to see if you see this anyway #sts means Story-Teller Saturday if you were wondering #like that time on my old acc that I just reblogged mermaids for three hours straight #I think that was worse #but I was scrolling my own dash and couldn't find anything that wasn't my own content #it reminded me of the mermaids and made me think of you

[archiveofourwolves]

I just think that it was extremely fitting for Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of season two to do what they did. They never had great communication in the first place. They said things and did things that were confusing to one another, and hurt them. Aziraphale was scrambling to try to make Crowley see his side but he chose the wrong words, looked at him the wrong way, went about it too quickly and Crowley couldn't understand that. And Crowley in turn danced around everything he wanted to say, leaving Aziraphale puzzled and not understanding. They didn't understand one another, and the flashbacks as well as the parallel between Nina and Maggie showed that they need to learn how to communicate correctly in order to be with one another. I think at the end of the day it's amazing writing, and I completely understand why Aziraphale did what he did, he's doing it for Crowley. He's doing it to save Earth. I feel as if they'd kissed and went on happily then the story as a whole wouldn't feel complete.

#good omens spoilers #good omens #just tossing this here bc i dont really have an account where i can #also the coffee theory as silly as it is probably isnt real #and the people who are hating or jokingly hating on gaiman probably should let the man breathe #hes an excellent story teller and i think the writers on go deserve more appreciation #rather than joking hate that feels like its being injected with animostity #aziraphale #crowley #character study #ish

[aces-to-apples]

DA: Hawke catches a lot of flack for taking a “centrist” stance and not allowing players to choose/choose not to do certain things within the story but like. That’s the point? As much as we can change them, Hawke isn’t a “player character”—they’re a character that we play as.

Much like, I don’t know, Jak and Daxter or The Last of Us, for the most part we as players don’t actually make decisions for the character we’re controlling so much as go through the motions of how those decisions play out. “Why can’t we do more to support Anders/Justice/Mage Rebellion?” Because Hawke didn’t. “Why can’t we invite all of our poor companions to live with us, instead of just our love interests?” Because Hawke didn’t.

I think being able to customize so much about Hawke (class, personality, physical appearance) fools a lot of players into forgetting that Hawke isn’t just some self-insert RPG character like the Warden was, but a pre-made part of the narrative that shaped events and made certain decisions within the story. Some of those are immutable, things that verifiably happened within the canon, and some of them are more minor and can be altered by the player.

Hawke fled Lothering and lost a sibling—which sibling did they lose? Hawke arrived in Kirkwall and bartered their way in—who did they barter with? Hawke’s sibling left the family and ceased to be a major part of future events—why, and how much of that was Hawke’s doing? Hawke’s mother was murdered and they weren’t able to save her—how far were they willing to go to do so anyway? The Arishok attacked Kirkwall but the Qunari left peacefully soon after—what did Hawke say or do to make that happen? The Chantry exploded and the culprit disappeared—did Hawke help Anders, and did they punish Anders after it was done? The Gallows revolted, a link in a chain reaction that led to the fall of the Circles—did Hawke put the revolt down with the Templars or stand against tyranny with the mages?

But at it’s core, DA2 isn’t really about choosing the story, it’s about witnessing it. Surprising absolutely no one, when I, the Star Wars blog, think about DA2 and the complaints about not being able to have Hawke make the decisions that the players would in their position, I’m reminded of the Revenge of the Sith novelization and the way it opens: 

“This story happened a long time ago... It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it.”

#dragon age ii #da meta #by apples #it's a story within a story and it's already done #and the telling may shift and change with the teller but the major beats are always the same because it already happened #'why didn't the hero know better? be better? why didn't they do what was so obvious?' because they didn't know they were a hero in a story #they were just a person going through life trying to make it from one day to the next

[famewolf]

I've got all these little ideas but it's been such a pain to write them down fkjlghdg

#[static] #my brain has been so fried recently that I feel as though I can't write anything in a logical order #I think it's also because I'm waiting on some direction from the GM regarding some of the bigger factions in my character's backstory #he seems like a big story teller so I'm holding back until I get the details before I fill in the blanks that I've been struggling with #I just love having the nitty gritty details ironed out before the first session because it makes me that much more invested in the game

[whiteshipnightjar]

The Air Again

by Joanna Newsom

June of ‘78 who are you, so arrayed on the banks of Lake Adair. Pale lacuna agape and like the moon in the lake you are not there, my poor canary.

At uncertain behest Maggie blown to the west in a shimmering dust of gold with her pale yellow hair they would call her ‘canary’. And I loved my Maggie so, and that is all you need to know.

But women here ain’t ever glad, not even Emma Nevada, coming back to share her wedding cake. Women here ain’t ever free (and Emma never left) we never leave, we never last we never ask we never stake a claim or complain or take.

Not till I made a play for a parcel that lay on the Amador county line. Had a notion that I’d find employ by-and-by at the Lonesome Willow Mine but they don’t enlist my kind. In the meantime, set to prospecting where I was able and laying my Maggie a table. And when it was warm we would pan, when it stormed play Fan-Tan, and when it was cold they’d come sniffin’ with gold in their hands. 

On and on and again on and on and again, you do what you can.

Take an eighth of an ounce in allowance for the dance, only a dance, if you’re alone and abandoned and cast aside. You know, the pastor tried in vain to ask her hand, even him, everybody did.

And I had a plan but I had to sign away my mine and the deed left us free to scrape and bleed and go to seed and never marry not canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary.

In the spring of that year when the tinker was here, gals would hire him to mend their tin. I heard ‘em swarm from afar like a storm in a jar, like a choir of cherubim, singing *him, hymn, hymns.

Whispering, ‘Maggie had gone must’ve skipped with someone’, sounded wrong though it did seem fair.

April turned into May and I looked every day for you, Maggie, ‘til I heard they found a whore with the golden hair on the shores of Lake Adair. On the sluice she was spread loose and languid and dead from the kindness that she had shown. Still she told me her tale lifting veil after veil to expose a grin a-honed, my yellow rose in the lode a-blown.

And though I long to believe as I muddied my sleeve, and I studied the wiccan hap, and I want to revive, she was never alive. But by the grace and the whim, and the wheel, and again, and the wickedness of men.

But what to do then? I hauled myself up from the shore and I called at the door of the foreman. I told him and he laughed.

So, alas, there was savagery there. Left a hole in his heart you could roll a cabbage in ‘A cabbage?!‘ “Oh, no no, just a little one, Maggie, just a little one.”

On and on and again ‘til they saw what I am and I am never done, I am never done.

Went inside for the light, got a paper and a pen, where to begin? Do you sue for the rights? Root* for the strike? Through the alluvium to where it heeds *for I’m putting my own ruin ‘til the end to lure o’er the deed. A noose on a live oak tree bent toward the saloon tent and meant for me and Maggie.

And though it wasn’t him, it could’ve been him, or anyone who had done what I know so many men intended when they came to win. 

So arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant. 

Held a cloth to my hands taking stock of my plans, well, there was something I had to make right. I took his old buggy whip and I lowered a skip in the glow of the sodium lights with a load of dynamite.

Maggie said, “I am here.” And with a touch on the ear, “After thirty years down in the mine, help me lead out the mules help me free the poor fools, let them see for the very first time they were blind, blind, blind.”

Then we rode through the rift and we beckoned to moon reflectin’ and she opened her neck like a stream. I saw the Father appear, heard her sob in my ear like a mob of cherubim, howling “him, him. It was him. It was him.”

So I threw a charge down the shaft in the cart with the pastor who spat and evangelized. He was the last and the worst — canary always goes first — to sing where the waters rise, hear her sing – go on now, Maggie –

On and on, on and on, on and on, and again and on and on on and on and again on and on and again.

Then a knock on the wall and a knock and we all fall in and down and in, and down and in and we pass away. But we pass only the baton man to man, and so they return. Pull the pumps, fill the sumps, for they’re takin’ something; they will never learn, they will never learn. And even if the churn drill and the stamp mill and the Pelton wheel, and the smoking furnace all a-burning, overturning, learning she will never breathe the air again air again air again air again air again air again air again air again air.

Like a screech of a flare, or like they’re reaching for air beneath the smothering eiderdown. Veins of gold, still outstretched in a silent arrest for miles and miles abound.

And if I’m underground let me join in that line, let me toil in that mine, let me find what is hiding there, let me dig where I durst, let me drink when I thirst and let me breathe the peril air.

And breathe for my canary, and breathe. Let me breathe. Let me breathe for my canary, breathe for my canary canary canary, breathe for my — canary always goes first — breathe for my canary canary canary canary, breathe for my — canary always goes first — breathe for my canary canary canary canary canary canary, breathe for my — canary always goes first — breathe for my canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary.

#joanna newsom #the air again #well that was a mighty task #made me do linguistics research too hahaha #she's a story teller extraordinaire #ok a few asterisks #'root for the strike' or 'route for the strike' both make sense just slightly different meaning but joanna loves a homophone #the same with 'him' or 'hymn' and here i think she's done it on purpose meaning in the official lyrics we might see both in different places #so there i wrote them both out #'for I’m putting my own ruin ‘til the end to lure o’er the deed' this one's a tough cookie i also hear 'open moon' #she does sing about the moon in a couple places here so it'd fit but it doesn't make sense so i'm sticking with the version i wrote out #this was fun thanks for indulging me <3 #jnew5 lyrics #love joanna #jnew