#(So sometime before April 1970

[monkberrymoonsdelight]

A Monkberry Moon Delight lyrical analysis because it is the greatest song of the 20th century

Monkberry Moon Delight is a song from Paul McCartney's 1971 album Ram. The song is generally considered to be surrealist 'nonsense' lyrics a la Lennon's late Beatles work like 'I am the Walrus' and 'Glass Onion'. But if we know anything about Paul (and Lennon-McCartney in general), he tends to put deeper emotions into his songs, often with out meaning to and without his direct knowledge:

"I don't write anything consciously, Sometime when I'm pissed off with John over Apple business a line might creep in." - Interview with Disc And Music Echo (Nov. 20, 1971)

"Songwriting is like psychiatry; you sit down and dredge up something that's inside, bring it out front." - Interview with Robert Palmer for the New York Times (April 25, 1982)

" But in a song, that's where you can [share your innermost thoughts]. That's the place to put them. You can start to reveal truths and feelings." - Interview with John Wilson fork BBC 4's (May 24, 2016)

And my favorite because it's y'know...in a song: "And when I'm gone, I leave my message in my song" - Beware My Love (Wings at the Speed of Sound, 1976)

All that being said, in my opinion, Monkberry Moon Delight is a projection of Paul's feelings of anxiety about his post-Beatles public/critical reception and his reaction to John Lennon's antagonism post-divorce. Specifically, he details his writing of Too Many People as a response to John's antagonism and the making of Ram as an attempt to recapture public attention/praise.

For context: Monkberry Moon Delight was first written/demoed at some point from May-August 1970 on his farm in Scotland. Paul's late 1969-1970 Scotland era is complicated. He often describes it as being one of the most difficult periods of his life because of the break-up of the Bealtes, the Apple financial troubles, his frayed relationship with John, and starting a whole new life which all compounded into a deep depression and alcohol abuse.

Let's start with the title and chorus. In Paul's own words, Monkberry Moon Delight comes from his kids mispronunciation of the word 'milk' and establishes MMD as a fantastical drink like 'Love Potion No. 9'. I think Paul obviously hides behind the surrealism of the lyric but its association with family and domesticity makes an interesting contrast. Though he is happy to be in his escapist domestic fantasy in Scotland, he juxtaposes this with the underlying pressure to be acclaimed (especially after being considered the greatest artist in the world for ten years). Though the song has a peppy, jaunty beat there is an air of anxiety developed through the songs key of C minor and the staccato of the piano and bass parts. His vocals also have a similar strained desperation like 'Oh! Darling'.

The lyrics:

So I sat in the attic, a piano up my nose

And the wind played a dreadful cantata

Paul starts with himself, writing. 'The attic' may be a reference to John Lennon's recording studio that he had built in his attic in Weybridge where he and Paul would often go to write.

"We nearly always went up to his little music room that he'd built at the top of the house, Daddy's Room, where we would get away from it all. I like to get away from people to songwrite, I don't like to do it in front of people. It's like sex for me" - Many Years from Now. Whether or not this is a direct reference to 'Daddy's Room', Paul is known to prefer small, confined spaces for songwriting.

'Piano up my nose' to me shows a rapt attention, leaning so close to his piano its almost up his nose. He is intently and passionately composing his 'dreadful cantata', this cantata I believe refers to "To Many People". Based on this record of the order of demos on the Ram cassette, it seems that Too Many People may have been written (or at least recorded) before Monkberry, which furthers my belief that Paul is making a meta narration of the writing of his song which he recognizes was very pointed or dreadful.

Sore was I from a crack of an enemy's hose

And the horrible sound of tomato

Here he describes what spurred him to writing this song, and this album as a whole. The 'crack from an enemy's hose' could refer to Allen Klein's treatment of Paul during the final months of the Beatles and his attempted mishandling of the release of McCartney (1970). (Note: The crack could also be from Phil Spector, the press, Ringo, George, Yoko or John; Paul is kind of getting shit from all sides right now). The 'sound of tomato' implies the idea of throwing tomatoes at an artist to express dislike or dissatisfaction, referencing the poor critical reception of McCartney (1970).

Ketchup, soup and puree

Don't get left behind

Ketchup, soup, and puree; liquidy tomatoes because splat, splat, splat go the critics. And ketchup because catch up pun.

Don't get left behind is the central theme of this song. He is worried that the public is going to forget about him while he's depressed, away in Scotland, and making critical flops. This is him desperately clinging onto the hearts of the public. Because we all know how much Paul needs to be liked.

When a rattle of rats had awoken

The sinews, the nerves, and the veins

The 'rattle of rats' could be any of the number of people who were getting on his nerves, sinews, and veins (pissing him tf off) in 1970. This could again be referencing the great "Let's all gang up on Paul McCartney" game of 1970 but because of the subsequent lyrics, I think this may be more specifically about John (and Yoko). Either way, it was these rats who annoyed him into getting to work.

My piano was boldly outspoken

And attempts to repeat his refrain

'Boldly outspoken' again connects this song to TMP. The line is similar to the TMP lyric 'This is crazy and baby, it's not like me' in the sense that both show how audacious he sees this songs as. In 'attempting to repeat his refrain' I think Paul is using the 'well he started it' justification for TMP because he's sees it as a repeat, of him rising to John's level of insults.

So I stood with a knot in my stomach and I gazed at that terrible sight

Of two youngsters concealed in a barrel, sucking Monkberry Moon Delight

Ah yes my favorite moment in all of music ever. This is the verse that really convinced me that this song may be referencing JohnandYoko. The 'youngsters in a barrel' alludes to John and Yoko's bag piece, where they would get into a black bag for...peace? As seen in Get Back, this particularly irked/disturbed Paul. "Go get in your bag. The Merseybeat award for couple of the year, goes to John and Yoko" (Get Back Episode 2). He also refers to them as 'the young lovers' in Get Back during the infamous January 13th 'and then there were two' conversation. Even though it makes him nervous and sick, part of Paul releasing TMP and Ram is to face up to the JohnandYoko powerhouse which was a non-insignificant portion of his early 1970 criticism.

Well I know my banana is older than the rest

and my hair is a tangled baretta

Here I think he is reasoning to the listener, the public, over why he thinks they've abandoned him. Paul recognizes that he has been in this music game a long time (so people may have grown bored of him) and has been depressed (and thus out of the game), his tangled 'baretta' of hair like the wily depression beard he grew out while in Scotland.

Also banana = dick, just so everyone is clear (can anyone find that banana poem from his poetry book? Also this just perpetuates my tinhat theory that all the banana milkshakes Paul got in Paris were just **** **** but I digress). Also something about Paul likening songwriting with sex so him not being 'musically desirable' is because...his music dick is old? Ok Paul.

I leave my pajamas to Billy Budapest

And I don't get the gist of your letter

This is the one lyric I am pretty unsure about. Not that every line has to fit perfectly into my interpretation but I genuinely could not make heads or tails of it. My initial interpretation was that this was referring to Billy Shears, and how during this period the Paul is dead theory regained popularity. This reference adds to the feeling of dissolution he builds in this verse.

But mike on the Beatles Bible seems to remember Billy Budapest as being a children's pajama designer though I have found not evidence of this. However going with this shot in the dark, leaving his pajamas to Billy Budapest could draw back to the theme of his current domesticity and occupation with his children.

The letter in question I believe refers to the infamous letter John and George wrote to Paul changing his McCartney release date that they had Ringo deliver which really set Paul off and kind of began the messiness of the divorce.

Catch Up, cats and kittens

Don't get left behind

Finally we get the pay off to the ketchup-catch up pun and see the resurgence of the theme; Paul feeling like he's falling behind his contemporaries and desperation to catch up.

In typical McCartney fashion, Monkberry Moon Delight is a seemingly shallow and superfluous song but actually reveals a lot about his inner turmoil at the time. Him dealing with the rejection by the critics and John by turning to his piano and creating the absolute banger that is Monkberry. This is why MMD is one of Paul's best, because of how quintessentially Paul it is. Veiling tough emotions behind ambiguous and surreal lyrics masked by a fun and light melody. Oh, the juxtaposition! Oh, the Lennon-McCartney of it all.

Anyways this is a barely organized rambling of thoughts but Monkberry Moon Delight deserves a mega analysis because it is genuinely one of the best songs Paul McCartney has ever made.

#song analysis #monkberry moon delight #Ram (1971) #paul mccartney #linda mccartney #john lennon #yoko ono #allen klein #thank you for coming to my tedtalk #seriously can someone find that banana poem it's driving me crazy

[reflectismo]

❝ I think that it’s like he was married to Paul, now he was married to me. So it was like, a situation that he didn’t feel like he wanted to go back really. John had a lot of respect for Paul, and of course love. But I would think that, if the truth may be told, the love was lost on both ways.

There were times that Paul did say a lot of strange things about John. So that, I know that it wasn’t like “Paul loved John but John didn’t love Paul” or “John actually loved Paul but Paul you know, didn’t.” I mean it was like a very healthy situation where they outgrew each other’s company. And only until John became what he is now—which is after John’s death—that people started to revere John. It became an issue for Paul.

Because you have to understand that table was turned many times. One, when John made the Jesus Christ remark. And Paul became virtually a leader. And John turned the table on Paul by becoming a partner with me probably. But then the thing is, the tables turned again by Paul becoming extremely successful with the Wings. So he was doing alright. While John made Some Time in New York City with me, and then followed that with Mind Games or something (chuckle), you know. So when John died, around that time, before the big reverence was noticed, I think there was some uh—things that Paul said that I know that Paul was not that sort of enamoured with John.

And now it might be important for Paul that the world knows that John loved him. Well, you know, I mean that’s because of what happened to John after John’s death. That there was a reverence all over the world. And therefore it is important for it to be known that that person who is revered did actually love me. But if John died and nobody cared, and John died as a person whose last album was number 20 in the charts or something like that, Paul wouldn’t have said that. It’s a lost issue then. And I think that you’re romanticizing it too much. I mean this is just human situation, you know. ❞  

This excerpt fascinates me to no end. A few parts that jump out to me:

“It’s like he was married to Paul, now he was married to me”: We cannot  overstate the amount of times this analogy has used by John, Paul and Yoko.  Reminds me of another quote from Yoko during her 2003 MOJO Magazine interview (“He [John] did put it that way; he was ‘riding on the boat called Paul, and now I’m going to ride on a boat called Yoko’”).

Tables being turned: Sometimes I think we tend to lose sight (myself included) on how competitive John and Paul were with each other. I do not doubt for one second that these two loved each other, but I think it should also be acknowledged that these two were both at times very competitive and jealous of each other. I am not negating the fact that they were a dynamic team/duo, but there’s always going to be some tensions in a partnership, especially one as famous as “Lennon/McCartney”, where the expectation and anticipation of “what will they do next?” or “how can they top their previous work?” was always on people’s minds. Quoting Paul on this one because they were both jealous guys: “I was wondering whether the relationship had kind of snapped. I believe it was always there. He was very jealous and so was I and it was all stupidity on the surface.” (Record Mirror, April 1982).

“John turned the table on Paul by becoming a partner with me probably”: I’m not denying that John fell in love with Yoko, but very interesting that she essentially indicates the possibility of ulterior motives from John re: John & Yoko getting closer and becoming partners.

THE Wings: I actually love it LOL!

Actually, let’s go back to the turned tables: I say this because reading it again, the way it’s being described re: power dynamics and shifts in strength between the two reminds me of a few quotes from John. [“Because if Paul and I are sort of disagreeing, and I feel weak, I think he must feel strong, you know” (Rolling Stone Magazine, December 1970)] & [“What am I going to do about it? It lasted nearly two years and I was still in it during Pepper. I know Paul wasn’t at the time; he was feeling full of confidence, and I was going through murder during those periods.” (Interview with Barry Miles, September 23, 1969)]

“...things that Paul said that I know that Paul was not that sort of enamoured with John”: Yoko what were the things? What does this mean? I needed her to elaborate because now my mind is turning and going through every quote I can think of.

The overall characterization of Paul is pretty negative here. Now before anyone starts jumping on Yoko’s back, I think it’s important to at least consider why it is she believed this to be true at the time (because it also sounds like she’s just trying to make sense of it all). Honestly, the overall feeling I get from this interview is along the lines of another statement of hers: “Paul had hurt John more than any other person.” And I’m more interest in understanding why she thought this, because I believe it provides some insight into John’s thoughts as well. One can choose to believe that Yoko was the mastermind behind putting all these negative thoughts about Paul in John’s mind, but again, I point to the portion of the passage where she discussed the “bigger than Jesus remark” that resulted in “Paul virtually becoming a leader.” How would she have deduced this if not for someone explaining certain details to her of what occurred during that period from their vantage point (which welcomes bias).

I think John’s feelings for Paul were so complex and layered that it simply cannot be defined as either black or white. There was resentment there, no doubt about it, but honestly the same is true of Paul and his feelings for John (which can be seen from his call with Hunter Davies in 1981, all the way to passages included in his recent Lyrics book). But that certainly does not invalidate the immense love they also had for one another. 

The problem wasn’t that neither cared, it was that they both cared too much.

#John Lennon #Paul McCartney #Yoko Ono #The Beatles #Lennon/McCartney #Dynamics #Relationships #(No pointless Yoko slander please) #(Wrote this after a long day of work so if it makes no sense - oh well.)

[sister-juniper]

Copia's Secret - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 to my book on ao3 and wattpad, "Copia's Secret"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50103145/chapters/126526381

https://www.wattpad.com/story/352285097-copia%27s-secret

⟡ Word Count: 2,508 ⟡

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The day was April 21st, 1970. In a hospital in the city of Siena, Italy, a baby boy named Copia Emeritus is born. He is the child of Imperator Romano and Nihil Emeritus, however, the father is not present. 

Imperator looks down at the child in her arms, the child of her fallen relationship with Nihil. 

Nihil had cheated on her just last year during her pregnancy whilst on tour performing a show in Los Angeles at Whiskey a Go-Go. At the end of his famed song "Kiss the Go-Goat", he kissed several audience members, and poor Imperator had to witness it all from the balcony. She witnessed their relationship crumble right before her eyes. This act made her child illegitimate, and therefore, no longer of importance. 

Nihil regretted his actions deeply, it was the worst decision he ever made in his life. It was purely out of impulse. He was faced with the reality of his actions when Imperator returned to their home country of Italy early from the tour. She not only returned to her home country, but also her home city. She did not return to the Ministry. She could not face him just yet, but she still wanted to remain of importance in the Ministry.

To cope with the loss of Imperator, Nihil proceeded to have a series of hookups with different women. Three of them ended up getting pregnant and having children, Primo Emeritus, Secondo Emeritus, and Terzo Emeritus.

None of the three women wanted to keep the children, so they were Nihil's to handle. The three boys grew up in the Ministry their entire life, but went to boarding school for Secondary school. Nihil was a busy man, and usually did not have time for the boys. Primo acted as a sort of father figure sometimes, as he was a full seven years older than Secondo and Terzo. The two were only a few months apart in age, Terzo being the youngest.

Nihil had no idea Imperator was pregnant, and Imperator didn't know it either, but she was pregnant that very day he cheated on her. She found out around a month after her return, and she was bewildered. She was carrying the product of their once prosperous and loving relationship. It was all she had left of that part of them. She of course had no intention of informing Nihil of this pregnancy, she felt that he didn't deserve that.

Copia was brought into this world as a complete and utter secret. Ever since Copia was able to comprehend speech, she grilled into his mind that he was not to tell a single soul where he truly came from. She felt that if his identity was revealed, she would lose her position in the church, and most importantly, her dignity. He was to be kept a secret, but it didn't stop Imperator from loving Copia unconditionally. He was her only child, and she couldn't keep her motherly instincts at bay.

Copia was to remain in Siena, whilst Imperator returned to the outskirts of Rome and the Ministry. She needed to keep her power there, as she was the main one in charge. The Ministry couldn't exist without a firm leader. Nihil certainly wasn't fit enough.

Copia grew up with basically zero parental influence in his life. His mother only visited him once every few months, and that was for a few days at a time at most. His father still didn't know about his existence, so he had never even met his father. Not once in his life.

The only person he had for some sort of parental guidance was his nanny, Alexandra Rossi. Imperator had hired her a few months after Copia was born, and she had been his guardian ever since. She is essentially his mother, even if she isn't blood-related. Copia always saw her as his mom, and referred to her as such when he was a young child. Alexandra never minded this. She cared for Copia relentlessly, and took pity on the young boy as he was left with no true parental figures. Copia later just referred to her as "Al" or "Alex" though, as he felt the term "mom" seemed a bit awkward.

Copia grew a resentment towards his mother, for forcing him to live a life in secret and without his parents. However, he was afraid of the consequences that would come with him exposing the secret. He had kept it for way too long to just let it be out in the open, so he followed Imperator's demands and kept his lips sealed.

As one can imagine, the two had an extremely strained and broken relationship. Copia found it hard to call her "mom", but he did so anyway to not upset her. Every time Imperator would visit, it was never pleasant.

She always found something to scrutinize and pick at about him. The way he looked, the way he spoke, the way he did things. She often mocked his introverted personality. Basically everything under the sun that Copia did that she didn't like, she would criticize him for. He grew up shy, insecure, and very keep-to-himself. Alexandra was the only person he truly trusted.

She did raise him with faith however, and always taught him religion whenever she could. He grew up trusting in Satan, he believed that the dark lord had a plan for him, and it was something that would comfort him even in his darkest of moments. Religion was the only thing he and his mother could agree on.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It is August 25th, 1987. Copia is a teenager now, he is seventeen, and is starting at a new school. He used to go to the public school system in the area, but the Ministry had been receiving a surplus of funds lately, so Imperator insisted he go to a new private school.

Did Copia agree to this? Of course not. He begged and pleaded with her to let him stay at his current school. He was comfortable, he had a friend group, and he was doing well! However, Imperator wanted the "best" for her son, and thought private International Baccalaureate school would give him the best opportunities. This decision made their already bad relationship even worse.

It was the night before the first day, and Copia was lying in bed struggling to sleep.

"Cazzo... I can't believe she put me in a new school..." he whispered into the darkness. Only to himself though. "Im so effing scared. Private school kids scare me"

"I had just been getting comfortable at my old school too..." he says as his voice wavers.

tears start streaming down his face. He was so nervous, he despised having to do things like this. He had never been the biggest socialite. When he found his people, he stuck to them like glue, and struggled to let them go. Heck, he would never let them go.

"I hate her... she's ruined my whole life, and now this?" he curls into a ball and buries his face in his knees. "Why? Sathanas why??" he sobs. "I just want to feel safe..."

He grabs a pillow and throws it aggressively against the wall. Then another, and another, and another until he is all out of pillows. There isn't much else he can do to satisfy his anger. He gets up, picks up one of the pillows, and throws it against the wall on the other side of his room. He runs his hands through his hair as more tears stream down his face and his lips start to tremble. Then, there is a knock at the door

Alexandra's voice sounds through the door "Copia darling?? Are you okay?" 

A loud sob escapes his throat "No, no im not Al.."

"Would you like me to come in?"

"Yes please..."

She pushes open the door and flicks on the light. She is met with Copia's tear-stricken and stressed face and pillows thrown about the room. "Copia..." she starts

She pulls him into a hug and he breaks down. He sobs into her arms as she rubs his back comfortingly. 

"Why... why must this happen? I had friends finally... I don't want to do this..." he says through his cries "I hate my fucking life.."

"I know... I know Copia" Alex comforts "It will work out, I promise you, it will just take time."

"You are such a sweet and kind boy, you will find those who appreciate you. I promise you, C"

Copia sniffles "Okay.. I really hope you are right" he says as he bursts into another fit of tears

He stands there in Alex's arms for a few more minutes, crying his eyes out. After a bit though, his tears slow, his breathing slowly gets more and more normal, and eventually he lets go and looks at her face-to-face.

"Thank you, Alex" 

"Of course, of course. Let's get some rest now okay?" she says with a sympathetic smile while rubbing his shoulder "I am always here if you need it"

Copia nods "I will try and get a bit of sleep"

"Yell my name if you need anything, m'kay?" Alex says as she walks towards the door

She leaves the room and shuts the door behind her, leaving Copia alone. He looks around his pillow-stricken room and sighs as he picks up the mess he made earlier. After he is done, he wipes his tears and climbs back into bed. The clock on his bedside table reads "11:54 pm"              I really need to get some sleep... he thinks.

He has to be up by 6 a.m. tomorrow to get ready and make it to school on time. The last thing he wants is to be late on his first day, that would be a nightmare. He shuts his eyes, replays one of his favorite songs in his head, and slowly drifts off into the world of slumber.

Copia awakens the next morning to his alarm clock blaring in his ears. He brushes the hair out of his eyes and groans as he reaches over to turn off the alarm. He sits up, stretches, and squints his eyes as he looks at the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

"Che cazzo, it is too damn early for this.." he groans to himself. He pushes himself out of bed, stands up, and turns on the light. He makes his way to his shelf, where he has already picked out his outfit for today.

In an attempt to calm his nerves, the night before he had pre-planned what he was going to wear that day. He liked planning things, it made him feel safe. He also had an eye for fashion, and was not about to suppress that. Funnily enough, it was one of the few things Imperator would comment nicely on that he did.

His outfit of choice was a black Misfits tank top, paired with black jeans and a studded belt. Copia took a lot of inspiration from Metallica's Kirk Hammett, he was sort of an idol figure to Copia. This specific outfit was based on an outfit he saw Hammett wear in an interview on television. 

This was sure to turn some heads in his more conservative town, but that wasn't something Copia worried much about. His biological mother led a fucking satanic church. Yes, nobody knew this, but still, Copia didn't give two shits. 

After getting dressed he looked at himself in the mirror and ruffled his black hair in an attempt to style it. He slipped on a few chain necklaces and headed to the kitchen to see what was for breakfast.

"Good morning C, how did you sleep? Alexandra asked upon hearing his footsteps.

Copia yawned "I slept pretty okay. How about you?"

"I slept pretty okay too. Do you want breakfast and coffee?"

He immediately nodded and turned his attention to the food Alex had prepared. She had made him some bread with two fried eggs on top, topped with some hot sauce, his favorite breakfast.

He grabbed himself one of the mugs from the cupboard and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. After adding a bit of milk, he lifted the mug to his lips and closed his eyes at the sensation of the caffeine entering his system. He grabbed the plate with his food, and took the two items to the table to sit at. He dug into his food, and savored every single bite.

"How are you feeling? You feel better?" Alex questioned

"Yeah, I do. I still feel a bit anxious, but eh, I feel better than before"

Alex smiles "That's good. Im sure today will go just fine. You have nothing to worry about" 

"I really hope so, I hate having to switch schools, it's so stupid. My public school was just fine!"

"I know, I know. I don't agree with your mother's decision. She is trying to do what is best for you, but isn't considering the social aspect" 

"Exactly! Education isn't everything..."

Copia sighs and finishes the rest of his food and coffee. He wished he was starting school with all of his friends, but was resorted to this reality instead. There wasn't much else to do besides to accept it.

He stands up, grabs his empty dishes, and heads back to the kitchen to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. He finishes, and goes to do the rest of his routine. This consists of using the bathroom, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and putting on deodorant. He grabs his backpack and double-checks to make sure he has everything he needs.

"Notebooks... check, folder... check, calculator... check, pencil case... check, lunch... check, okay I think that is everything" he mumbles to himself.

He then gets the idea to bring some coffee with him as well, because Satan knows he will need it to get him through today. He grabs his thermos, takes it to the kitchen, and fills it up with coffee and a bit of milk. He puts it in the side pocket of his bag and breathes a sigh of relief. He is ready, and he has everything he needs.

"Hey, Copia?" Alex starts

"Yes Al?"

"I want to give you something to take with you, it might help a bit"

She hands Copia a black journal with red gothic decorations. "A journal?" Copia questions

"Yeah, I thought you could use it for songwriting and other things. I know you love music!"

"Thank you, Alex, but I never write songs though" 

"I know, but I thought you should give it a shot. You love listening to music, you always have, so why not make some hm? It could help you with your emotions"

Copia smiles warmly "I could try that. Thank you, Al, this gift is really nice" 

"You are very welcome, C"

He takes off his backpack, opens it, and puts the journal inside. I may try and write a few things later during lunch  he thinks.

He puts on his black combat boots, sprays a bit of cologne on himself, and now he is finally ready to leave for his first day.

"C'mon, let's get headed there. Don't wanna be late!" Alex states

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https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisterjuniper/works

https://www.wattpad.com/user/sisterjuniper

#ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus #papa emeritus fanfiction #copia #copia my beloved #cardinal copia #copia fanfiction #copia emeritus #copia fic #ghost copia #papa iv #papa emeritus 4 #papa copia #papa emeritus iv #papa nihil #the band ghost #band ghost #ghostbc #the ghost band #ghost the band #sister imperator #trauma #childhood trauma #ptsd #anxeity #mental illness #italy #italian

[scotianostra]

The Construction of Rosslyn chapel began on 20th September 1456.

Properly known as the Collegiate Chapel of St Matthew  in the village of Roslin, Midlothian, this is just a couple of miles from where I grew up. 

The building of the chapel is sometimes incorrectly given as ten years before, but that date comes from the chapel’s receiving its founding charter from Rome.

We are very lucky that Rosslyn Chapel remains intact, as we see it today, you only have to look around Scotland at the ruins of our Abbeys destroyed during the Reformation, Rosslyn was closed from around 1560,The chapel’s altars were destroyed in 1592 but the main structure is thought to have survived and any real damage was avoided.

The chapel was built by The Sinclair family and has been linked with the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, that’s the Knights Templar to you and I, the order was disbanded around 150 years before construction but symbols, such as the “Two riders on a single horse” that appear on the Seal of the Knights Templar, can be found on the building.

Rosslyn Chapel was constructed almost entirely in stone, with no structural timber except within the much later Victorian baptistery added to the west end of the chapel. The chapel is thought to be only part of what was intended to be a much larger church, and it exhibits immense historic, architectural and cultural value. The extent of carved stonework both internally and externally makes this little chapel truly unique.  Though incomplete, it took around 40 years to build, and has the largest number of Green Man carvings of any medieval chapel in Europe.

The carvings of the chapel have been the subject of much speculation and conjecture, as Christian symbolism and other references are interspersed throughout the building. In 1630, Sir William Sinclair of Rosslyn was granted the charters from the Masons of Scotland, which confirms that the St Clairs were traditional Grand Masters of the Masons of Scotland. Accordingly, Rosslyn Chapel is of considerable interest to Masonic groups. Other carvings at Rosslyn Chapel are of religious, natural, or decorative nature, such as the Apprentice Pillar and the Seven Acts of Mercy panel.

Following the Reformation, services stopped being held in 1592 and did not begin again until the Chapel was re-dedicated in Victorian times.

Oliver Cromwell had his men stable their horses in the chapel in 1650 when he and General George Monck conquered nearby Roslin Castle.

Queen Victoria visited the site during her reign and was instrumental in restoring the Chapel to it’s original state for worship according to Protestant rites of the Scottish Episcopal Church and was re-dedicated as a place of worship on 22nd April 1862

I remember my mum talking about the Apprentice Pillar and how there was speculation that The Holy Grail is possibly encased within it, she talked about this in the 1970′s, about 30 years before the Chapel became more famous due to Dan Brown’s novel and film The Da Vinci Code.

I got the majority of the pics from the Alamy website, they date from the mid 19the century, some are from around 1852 while the one with the two figures walking through the church is from a book printed in 1859. Note most of these are before Queen Victoria's visit, so it shows the building was still in a good state of repair then. The top pic is from John Slezer's 'Theatrum Scotiae' is an important record of Scottish towns, castles and palaces in the 17th century. For most of these places, it contains some of the earliest views that survive. The first edition was 1693 so I think I am safe in saying it is the oldest depiction of Rosslyn Chapel. 

Theatrum Scotiae also included written information on the drawings featured, the noted Scottish physician and antiquarian  Robert Sibbald wrote;

Rosslyn Chapel

To the Right Honourable GEORGE Earl of Caithness, Lord Biridall, &c.

Roslin Chapel

This Chapel lies in Mid-Lothian, Four Miles from Edinburgh, and is one of the most curious Pieces of Workman-ship in Europe. The Foundation of this rare Building was laid Anno 1440 by William St Clair, Prince of Orkney, Duke of Holdenburgh, &c. A Man as considerable for the publick Works which he erected, as for the Lands which he possess'd, and the Honours which were conferred upon him by several of the greatest Princes of Europe. It is remarkable that in all this Work there are not two Cuts of one fort. The most curious Part of the Building is the Vault of the Quire, and that which is called the Prince's Pillar so much talk'd of. This Chapel was possess'd by a Provost, and Seven Cannons Regular, who were endued with several considerable Revenues through the Liberality of the Lairds of Roslin.

Here lies buried George Earl of Caithness, who lived about the Beginning of the Reformation, Alexander Earl of Sutherland, great Grand-Child to King Robert de Bruce, Three Earls of Orkney, and Nine Barons of Roslin.

The last lay in a Vault, so dry that their Bodies have been found intire after Fourscore Years, and as fresh as when they were first buried. There goes a Tradition, That before the Death of any of the Family of Roslin, this Chapel appears all in Fire.

#Scotland #scottish #Midlothian #religious history #religious building #knights templar #history

[ootori-sibs]

The Candor of Youth

Part 11

Welcome to the second act.

Tw; mentioned vomit, food shaming, blood, hallucinations, implied and mentioned abuse, homophobia (period accurate)

The main Ootori mansion, April 1970. 

Yoshio Ootori was 16 years old, going on 17. He had just begun his second year of highschool, and was kind of hoping it would be less eventful than his last. To his credit, he'd been more or less behaving; he'd been avoiding his father, finding excused not to visit Kokomi's home, and sometimes actually referring to Yuzuru as a friend.

Not today though, Yuzuru was being annoying today. 

"-wait but why? You're a straight A student!"

Yoshio sighed, gripping the phone tightly in his hand, "Father said only queers learn French, so I have to drop the subject."

"That's not fair!" Yuzuru whined, burning Yoshio's ears a little bit, "there's plenty of normal people in France!" 

"I don't know what to say, Souh, I can't disobey..."

There was a moment of silence and for a moment, Yoshio almost thought Yuzuru had hung up on him. Then, Yuzuru spoke, softer than before. "It's okay Yoshio, I understand. I wouldn't want to make your father angry either. You're allowed to do what you need to, but... if you want to help me with my French homework still..."

To the undertrained ear, it sounded like Yuzuru was just trying to get free labour, but Yoshio had become rather skilled at deciphering what the boy meant. He was suggesting that Yoshio continue to learn French that way. Yoshio... really appreciated that, but he wasn't the kind of boy to do work for free. 

"What do I get in return?"

"Wha-" Yuzuru chuckled, "you tricky little thing, Ootori! Fine, how about I have my mother make us some lemonade when you come to help me, I know you like lemons?"

Yoshio considered that proposal, he did like lemonade... "I like it, but for the grammar homework I want those little custard treats you had the maids make for my birthday last year." 

"Deal!"

"Deal."

With that, both boys hung up the phone. Yoshio couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, he liked their little practice business deals. He couldn't help but to find them fun, plus it was good to have practice. He'd been studying up on the family business lately, trying to teach himself as much as he possibly could about the world of business. 

He couldn't deny he felt excited, just as much as he was scared. The world of business seemed to be calling him like a siren song, it all seemed so exciting, so fascinating. Yoshio couldn't wait to sink his teeth into the family business, and show everyone that he was a force to be reckoned with. 

Currently, however, he was just sitting in his room, daydreaming. He didn't like to waste time, so he stood up, and began to look through his books. It was Saturday, so he had all the time in the world to brush up on his knowledge, but it was also the 4th of April, so his Birthday was soon. The idea of having another birthday did scare Yoshio, but he knew that there was no avoiding it, and more importantly, the day before was far more pressing.

Last year he and his darling fiancée had come up with a wicked, dastardly plan, and tomorrow the second phase would be put into effect. So currently, Yoshio could be forgiven for being just a tad nervous. He wasn't built to be a criminal, but had cut his teeth on that life and needed to follow Kokomi's plan through to the end. 

As he read, he felt an itching in his brain and it was hard to ignore, he closed his eyes, trying to will it to stop. When he opened them, however, there was blood on his hands. 

Yoshio's breath hitched for a moment as he stared at the blood, the sounds of screaming in his ears, the sound of Kokomi's praise echoing in his mind. He felt like there was a weight pressed to his chest, and the room seemed to flicker at the corners of his eyes. 

He blinked again, and it was gone. 

Yoshio wiped the tears from his eyes and shakingly, stood. He opened the door to his bedroom, and yelled for one of the maids to come and run him a bath. 

Waiting for it to be ready, Yoshio sat on his bed and shivered. He wasn't cold, so he wasn't quite sure why he was shaking like this. All he knew was that he felt incredibly filthy, like there was still somehow blood on his clothes, on his body... god, it was everywhere. 

He knew logically that he was already clean, but he couldn't shake the feeling creeping up his spine. He desperately needed to get clean, he couldn't last another minute feeling as filthy as he did right now. 

Was he going to vomit? He wasn't sure; his stomach was turning flips but he wasn't gagging like he usually would. He was dizzy, he was sitting down but still felt like he was going to fall over any second. The maid came to tell him the bath was ready, but he didn't move. She approached him, and gently helped him to stand, walking him to the bathroom. 

She was the nice one, she didn't rattle on about things, and she routinely forgot to starch his shirts. He'd never asked her name, but he was grateful for her help now, as she even helped him undress and then climb into the bath.

The water was warm but not scalding, just the way Yoshio liked it. It helped to ground him a little, and he found his breathing began to regulate itself.

"Are you fine to wash yourself, young master?"  The maid asked, a gentle smile on her face. 

Yoshio nodded, waving her off. "Yes, thank you..."

"Rei, sir."

"Thank you, Rei."

Now he was alone, Yoshio took a deep breath, and gently began to wash himself with a flannel. He didn't like to scrub, he hated the way it felt. He also didn't like bubbles, he found them unnecessary and rather childish. Yoshio did enjoy baths, though, he just didn't like all the frills attached. As far as he was concerned, sitting in some warm water and getting clean was a relaxing enough process on its own. 

The problem with baths is that eventually they have to end. Yoshio looked at his fingers, all wrinkled from the water. He never understood why that happened; shouldn't they have absorbed water, not lost it? Either way, he knew it meant he had been in the bath too long and that it was time to get out. 

He didn't...want to, though. Call him a toddler, but Yoshio hated the immediate cold that came once he got out of the lovely warm water. He decided to compromise, so he pulled the plug, but didn't move. 

Laying in the bath while the water drained was...odd. He felt as if he was growing heavier by the second, and it took a lot more effort than normal to move his body. Yoshio began to get uncomfortable, he might hate getting out of the bath, but feeling weak was worse. He let tiny sounds of displeasure leave his mouth as he tried to sit up, pushing up against the end of the bath to help him slide up. 

He managed to sit up, but the problem then became standing up, or at least somehow getting out of the tub.  The biggest issue with this task would be the fact that Yoshio couldn't stand without the help of his cane, and it was probably impractical to use a cane in the bathtub. 

He also definitely didn't want to call for a maid, it was bad enough he'd had to be helped into the bath, he didn't want to admit he needed help getting out as well. It occurred to him that he could just push through the pain and try to stand, but the risk of cracking his head open on the sink was too scary for him to actually attempt it. 

Plan B it was, then. 

He wrapped an arm and his good leg over the side of the tub, and took a breath before attempting to heave himself over the edge, and onto the floor. 

It worked! With a soft thud, Yoshio landed on the floor of his bathroom, staring up at the ceiling with a whole lot of regret. Why had he done that? Was he stupid? Those questions probably answered each other, he figured, as he climbed up onto the bathroom chair. 

He was out of breath, and his face was red from embarrassment despite no one having seen. He had half a mind to call Yuzuru back and inform him so he knew to laugh at Yoshio. 

God, he was a failure. He sighed, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. Saturdays never seemed to go well for him, then again, neither did any of the other days. Mondays seemed to be his favourite at the moment, as he got to see Kokomi and Yuzuru, but that was really the only reason. Yoshio figured his life really must suck if Yuzuru of all people was a highlight. 

That boy was so annoying. 

Handsome though.

Once Yoshio was finally dressed, it was time for dinner.  So Yoshio made his way downstairs to the dining room. 

Dinner was always far more quiet now that Yosuke and Fumihito were `missing`. Those two had always been so loud and...just a bundle of energy. Yoshio passingly wondered if it was wrong to miss his brothers when it was his fault they'd been kidnapped. 

Sitting down, Yoshio was cheered up by the dish, it was salmon and asparagus. As far as healthy foods were concerned, asparagus was not the worst option, and Yoshio did quite enjoy it actually. His younger brother's didn't like salmon, which Yoshio found quite odd. Well... Akira did like the salmon skin, just not the rest of it for some reason. That worked out perfectly, though, as Yoshio wasn't fond of the skin, and luckily enough, they always sat next to each other. 

Leaning over, Akira, now 5 years old, whispered. "Hey Yoshi... you okay?"

Yoshio nodded, whispering back, "I'm good, why?"

" You've got a bwuise on your arm." Akira informed him, poking him directly in that bruise. 

Yoshio winced, but nodded, "I slipped and fell, don't worry, Akira." 

Akira nodded at that, seemingly satisfied. 

After that little exchange, they ate in silence. His other two younger brothers; Takahiro and Hibiki, were talking about something or other though. Yoshio didn't like to eavesdrop but he was pretty sure they were discussing Attack No*1. Yoshio didn't really watch any shows, he preferred to read or listen to music, now he didn't think that made him better than them... but he was pretty sure it made him smarter. 

Father only joined them around halfway through dinner, and silence fell over the room as soon as he walked in. He was visibly tense, to the point that Yoshio held his breath to avoid his father remembering he existed. 

His father made a comment to Hibiki about how much the boy was eating, and Yoshio felt something flare up inside of him. Hibiki was only 8 years old, it doesn't really matter if he eats `too much` at that age! He didn't dare glare at his father though, for fear of his life. Glancing toward Yuuma, though, Yoshio could see that same fire in his brother's eyes as he felt behind his eyes.

"Father..." Yuuma began, and all eyes were on him. Yuuma was the eldest, but it was still shocking to see him be so brave. "Don't you think it's fine if Hibiki has a little more? It's only asparagus..."

Everyone around the table held their breath, and Yoshio felt faint already. He knew Father would never hit Yuuma, but it was still absolutely terrifying. 

"Only asparagus..?" Father echoed, looking up from his meal with a cold, measured anger that sent chills down Yoshio's spine. "Do you know how that asparagus is cooked, Yuuma?"

Yuuma paused, he clearly didn't know... Yoshio didn't know either, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be good for Yuuma's argument. "I... no father, I don't, but-"

"Using butter!! Yuuma!" Father began to roar, hands slamming down on the table. Yoshio couldn't help but let out an audible whimper, but managed to steel himself when Akira grabbed his arm. "Butter or lard!! If Hibiki wants to eat lard then that's fine but he shouldn't come crying to me if he gets fat!!" 

Hibiki was crying now, with Takahiro comforting him. Yoshio was still in shock that Akira had turned to him of all people for comfort, but he did his best to pat his brother on the head and keep him calm. Yuuma looked pale, and Yoshio had...never seen his older brother so close to tears like this. 

It was a haunting sight. 

"I...yes father, I understand..." Yuuma responded, glancing away and nodding. That seemed to have settled the argument, as father sat down and continued eating. 

Hibiki and Takahiro left the table pretty quickly, followed by Akira. Yoshio was fully aware that Yuuma was watching him closely. He knew that Yuuma wanted to leave, he must be waiting for Yoshio to leave first... 

The problem was that Yoshio didn't want to move a muscle. He barely let himself breath, just in case father saw it as something disrespectful. The last thing Yoshio wanted to do right now was incur his fathers wrath, and if that meant keeping his brother there until father left the room then so be it. 

Maybe he could apologise later on... 

Yoshio could barely bring himself to eat, leaning over his plate so that eating made as little movement as possible. Anything to avoid drawing his father's eye and in turn, his wrath. He felt sick again, just like he had earlier that day. He prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't throw up- that would make everything so much worse, and the idea of throwing up made him even more nauseous. 

He could feel Yuuma's eyes boring into him, but he didn't dare to meet them. Yoshio didn't want to disappoint his brother, but staying safe was more important. He might now be smart, but Yoshio's survival instincts were top tier. He knew exactly what to do, and all he had to do now was keep his thoughts under control. 

However, with every minute that passed, Yoshio grew more and more terrified; his hands shook and he felt that he would throw up even if he breathed the wrong way. His entire body felt cold, and he could feel his cheek burning even though nothing had hit it yet. It was like the feeling that had occurred earlier, but so much worse here, because the threat was undeniably real. Yoshio did have to be careful, and his father was visibly in a bad mood.

#yoshio ootori #yuzuru souh

[the-eyes-in-the-wallpaper]

Welcome, Foolish Mortals

To be completely fair, that was likely exactly what you expected. But how else is one supposed to open a sideblog dedicated to the Haunted Mansion?

Regardless, welcome, readers. This will serve as a place to catalog my collective thoughts, analyses, writings, and ramblings concerning the Haunted Mansion and Phantom Manor, at the Disney parks across the world.

To many of you who may be following me from other places or who have simply stumbled upon this blog in the vast jungles of the internet, the existence of this page likely raises several questions:

It's a ride at Disneyland, what's the big deal?

Shouldn't you grow up and get a Real Job?

You're one of those insufferable Disney adults who spends $60 on a popcorn bucket from Ebay aren't you.

To answer these to some extent, I am firstly doing this because I think it is fun, I do already have a Real Job, and I have never spent $60 on any piece of merch, popcorn bucket or otherwise.

But it did get me thinking. What is it about the Haunted Mansion in particular that has managed to create a fandom this strong over the past 54 years? On the face of it it's not that big of a deal, and it's not exactly highbrow Art or Literature or Cinema. So why do people keep coming back?

The answer lies, I believe, in what the Mansion is in the first place:

A narrative. Due to its nature as a dark ride, there is an opportunity to present the story in the second person: You, the rider, are exploring an old and reportedly haunted mansion. This setup, especially in an age before technology could create an interactive experience, lends itself especially well to a

A commentary. While the Mansion as a whole is meant as entertainment, it is playing with tropes, questions, and archetypes that reflect the human fascination with life and death.

A magic show. The Mansion was built in an era when computers were still the size of living rooms, so very little of the special effects required them. Instead, the designers of the ride used illusions dating back to the Victorian era (and sometimes even older!) to convince the rider the house is actually haunted.

A historic artifact. Given that the building is (as of today, April 9 2023) 54 years old, it has been around for long enough that it funcions as a time capsule of sorts into what a haunted house looked like in 1969, before further developments in the horror genre during the 1970s and 1980s.

The impression it leaves in the minds of those who enter. The ride itself is only about 9 minutes long - not a long time at all. But the details that are left make one wonder - about backstory, about the history of the place both fictional and real - and those details shared between fellow enthusiasts has over time left the Mansion with the feeling that it is truly haunted, in a way.

Each post in this blog will roughly correspond to these categories, more or less depending on the particular topic. We'll be covering a bit of everything here - history, architecture, special effects, literature, and the list will go on. Updates will probably be weekly - I am still working out exactly how to write everything and make sure you all have quality posts in a timely manner, but that is the plan.

I will also say up front that this blog will assume that you already have a cursory knowledge of the Haunted Mansion as a ride. If you need a refresher, there are several "low-light POV" videos on YouTube of the three Haunted Mansions (Anaheim, Orlando, and Tokyo) currently in operation, as well as of Phantom Manor in Paris. I will do a larger post with a more complete secondary source list later and make sure it is tagged and pinned.

Without further ado, welcome, foolish mortals. I do hope these posts are as fun for you to read as they are for me to write.

#the haunted mansion #welcome foolish mortals #general #reference

[homosociallyyours]

I WANT TO YELL ABOUT ALL OF YOUR WIPS!!!!!!!!!!! Can I be greedy and pretty please ask about Tax Preparer Marcel/Stripper Louis, Cinema/cinnamon 80s- times square red, times square blue, AND Upper West Side (girl direction)???

OMG YES of course Maggie!! Thank you for asking!!

Tax Preparer Marcel/Stripper Louis: This was actually supposed to be part of last year's Reverse Bang, with art/prompt by @becomeawendybird and it's. SO GOOD!! I basically just took on too much and couldn't make the deadline, but the fic kinda just needs another ~500 words and final editing.

It's based on a tweet by H&R Block saying they can help strippers figure out tax write offs (but in a cute, catchy way), and I set it in SF with Louis dancing at the worker owned, union-led Lusty Lady (which is closed, sadly). Here's a snippet, and the rest of the answers, behind a read more:

“I just wanted to say it’s been a real pleasure working with you, Lou. And if you have any questions you can call me any time and I’ll help you out if I can.” She slid a copy of her business card across the desk, her personal number written carefully across the top. “I hope I’m not overstepping, I just--” 

“Oh, you’re not at all! I was actually taking my time with these papers trying to figure out how to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime. Or a drink, whatever.” Louis swiped her hair across her forehead, letting it fall artfully back into place. Her smile was soft and delicate, and Marcel felt like anything she could say in return would come out clumsy and awkward, but she had to try anyway. 

“I’d do whatever you wanted.” Her glasses slid down her nose as she looked down at her desk, not wanting to meet Louis’ eyes. “At least once tax season is over.” 

“So-- after April 15th, then?” Marcel nodded. “I’m going to hold you to it, Marce. Might even drag you to the Lusty one night since you said you’ve never been.” 

“Oh!” Marcie’s cheeks flamed, the thought of sitting in a booth with Louis in her lap filling every available space in her mind. “I did tell you that, didn’t I?” She was pretty sure if she saw Louis actually dancing she’d spontaneously combust, but that was the image that came to her mind next. She widened her eyes, trying to bring herself back into the moment. 

“You did, and you said you’d been meaning to do it for years.” Louis tightened the strap of her messenger bag, swinging it around to her back. Marcel refrained from staring at her tits, even if the strap pressing between them made them that much more prominent. “And honestly? I’ve told everyone I work with about you, so they’re all dying to meet you.” 

Cinema/Cinnamon/Times Square Red, Times Square Blue: So this is one that's just a fleshed out idea, but I REALLY wanna write it, so I hope I can make it happen. Basically when I first heard Cinema my first thought was that it sounded like Harry was saying "this enema" or "the cinnamon" instead of "the cinema" and of course that "you bring the pop" was about poppers. All of that plus cinema had me thinking about Samuel Delaney's Time Square Red, Times Square Blue, which talks about 1970/80s Times Square NYC and the porn theaters there as a gay space (I'm definitely oversimplfying; it's been years since I read the book and would wanna re-read before writing!)

Soooo. The plot is that Harry goes to the Times Square porn theaters regularly to anonymously get off with men there, but there's one guy in particular who it's always really good with-- a guy in a cap with long-ish hair who manages to keep his face hidden but who's always chewing cinnamon gum. It gets to the point that even smelling that warm cinnamon scent makes Harry's dick interested. Meanwhile, he takes a job in a restaurant kitchen in midtown. It's grunt work, and he mostly just keeps his head down until a new guy gets hired as a dishwasher. They strike up a friendship, and while walking downtown together after work, Louis pops in a stick of cinnamon gum as they pass the theaters (definitely a Pavlovian response).

Immediately Harry realizes that Louis is his cinnamon guy, but when he points it out Louis kinda freaks out and bolts. They do work it out, and it's not long before they're really getting to know each other/dating. After they've been together a minute they re-create their anonymous hook ups in the theater with Louis bringing poppers and the two of them fuck in the back. THAT'S ALL I'VE GOT

Upper West Side: This is a VERY old wip/start of a fic that's based on the King Princess song of the same name. It's set in NYC in the 90s. Here's the start of it:

They met at Clit Club on a Thursday night, the room more crowded than it should’ve been and “Push It” pounding out through the shitty speakers. Louis was high on the success of her drag show and covered in girls, but all she really wanted to do was dance. Find someone with a tight little ass and grind against her, taste the sweat rolling down their neck before she sucked a kiss there. Her favorite kind of calling card. 

She was about to go to the middle of the floor and let herself get lost in a sea of dykes, maybe find someone for a quick fuck in the bathroom, when the door opened, bringing a rush of cooler air from outside and grabbing her attention. A woman stood there, backlit by a streetlight and with long curls that made Louis want to get tangled up and pull. Louis squeezed her thighs together, thinking about getting this woman-- tall, femme, over-dressed for a bar like this, --up against the graffitied walls of the bathroom and finger fucking her until she was an absolute mess. 

There was no use wasting time. She walked over to the woman, who was still standing in the doorway, her eyes searching the crowded club as if she’d be able to find anyone she knew in the shadowed mass of dykes, and introduced herself. 

“You look lost. Like you might need a guide for the night,” she said, going on tiptoes to reach the woman’s ear. “I’m Lou.” 

“Harry,” the woman said, giving Louis a sidelong glance. “Don’t need a guide, but maybe you could get me a vodka soda? And a dance?” Her smile was a coy stretch of her wide, cherry red lips and a dart of her tongue, and fuck, that was enough to convince Louis she’d made the right move talking to this woman. 

#this is so long #!! #my wips #wip game #1d #my fic

[rk-ocs]

, I tried to calculate Maria's age with math. Tony inherited the company at 21, Howard died at 74. He was born in 1917 and Tony was born in 1970. Meaning he was 53 when Tony was born.  In 1954 he creates Stark Expo-, and that blurb mentions he eventually married Maria.  Meaning he was 37.

Now let's say for the sake of Maria getting things done that they married in 1960 and had 10 years of marriage before having Tony. Let's say she had him at 35. We can bump it later, but fives are nice even numbers as with this calculation we have it that she married Howard at 25 in 1960. So B:1945. That takes away the WW2 backdrop, but there's plenty to explore in the following years.

That doesn't give her as much time to get up to her own adventures as I thought. I don't know, my headcannon has her has her probably not getting married so young.

The thing is, 35 is sort of a peak year in fertility. Past that​ age chances of Downs and other problems increase.  Howard is 53 at Tony's birth, and men's fertility begins to decrease at 40, and risk of miscarriage rises ECT.

This is supported in the comics with the difficultly they had in having Arno, and why Aliens got involved to have a healthy child.

And then Tony Armstrong Stark, born of a Hydra and Shield coupling, was then adopted by one of Sheilds founders, and raised by a brilliant inventor (and his brilliant wife) and

Howard is described with Genius intelligence ranked at 5, Tony is a super Genius at 6. The only higher intelligence tier is omniscient which is applied to things like gods and mutants from what I see. All of the Tony Starks are in superginius category. Even his AI mental one. Arno Stark has super Genius intelligence as his only ability (stuck on life support and really can't develop anything else) and that was because the Alien genetically engineered it before he was born.

On a slightly unrelated note, Shield is pretty much TAS 's heritage by this point.

So back to the age thing. Maria could have married Howard super young (gross). She could have have a very complicated and dangerous pregnancy (or several). Tony could be adopted or have had Alien intervention.

It's possible that they hadn't thought Maria could have kids and we're very surprised.

It's possible that Tony was a Miracle baby.

Somehow that all pales in comparison to the idea Howard and Maria going into Genetic engineering to have a healthy child ( and Hydra later stole that research too)

That would increase the Odds of being having a healthy Tony at older ages , especially if they use a surrogate. (Been around since 1985, but we can mess a bit with history in other world's if we need to) Perhaps Amanda Armstrong, in a twist, is Tony's Surrogate here

*Gestational surrogacy (also known as host or full surrogacy[3]) was first achieved in April 1986.[5] It takes place when an embryo created by in vitro fertilization (IVF) technology is implanted in a surrogate, sometimes called a gestational carrier. Gestational surrogacy may take a number of forms, but in each form the resulting child is genetically unrelated to the surrogate:

the embryo is created using the intended father's sperm and the intended mother's eggs. The resulting child is genetically related to both intended parents.

------

Red taught the Carbonell s to growl when someone picks them up.

Tony learned from his mother, who learned it from her father, who learned it from his uncle, and so forth.

It makes for an interesting Bonding moment when he is teaching his previously unknown brother Arno, and his previously Unknown niece Eleanor how to properly Growl

‘--------

Maria is the daughter of Samuel Carbonell and Emily Collins.

Emily is the daughter of Alexander and Jenna Michaels

Sam is the Son of Felix C and Isabella Hanson

Felix is the child of Lucas Cand Marcia Rodríguez

I should add siblings so cousians happen later.

-------

So yah a lot of Maria and Carbonell backstory in general will be headcannoned.

And Stark too.

I headcannon, for instance that before Howard the Starks were Jewish, but he keeps that quiet for business opportunity purposes, and is overall not big on religion.

Maria is, a lot smarter then her stats say she is. She is exclent at math. The Carbonells are Capable of calculations, having a high enough percentage to be able to tell the future to an extent. And it involves math. Also guidance to handle it, and not spiral into crazy. She is fond of the Piano, and gambling, used to winning them too (it mentoned she deliberately lost a lot of money)

Red was a terrible enabler of this, by teaching her how to play cards, along with lessons of how to read the people playing them.

She seems to enable all of her Prinicpals in one way or another (such as teaching Tony to drive)

I should come up with a Carbonell family tree I think

-----

I sort of headcannon Red as emotionally distant from her parents. Her Dad is on a submarine, and her mom is always working. You knew this. I picture the house as being clean and sort of empty looking, as all signs of life are stored away in it, the dishes washed after use and back in the cubbord. She wakes up there. She eats.  Maybe she will come home and take out the GameCube and play pokemon collesum or something, but she would rather be elsewhere most days. It's MT who comes by and makes sure she's awake on school days, its her aunt and Uncles house that she invites people over to play smash at, and its never her mother she chatters to.

When her mother is home, the volume is to be kept down.

Meeting Tony, she sees Parales, and tries to be a good cousian as well as guard. Meeting and becoming friends with Maria, she internalized the lesson that good people are not nesscarly good parents.

Some people are just not cut out to be parents. Maria tries, she teaches Tony how to play Piano, teaches him a song about math, but he's still pretty lonely

------

Deaging characters

A young Red and Tony would conclude that they have been kidnapped. Or at least that's the scenario that would come to mind with bodyguard teen Red, and child Tony.

Probably with Tony being the one talking, as red is not talking at this time.

"Don't come any closer, or my bodyguard will shoot you." He signs non fatal main, and red points her gun at them, as they backup.

Upon escaping, they would conclude they ended up in the future, and that red possible ly TT d them. Then they find out his parents are dead and mourn.

Alone it would depend if Red recognized Tony. She could run away or Tony could hire her. Either way it would take  negotiating fast.

Alone deaged Tony, would recognize Red, and probably enjoy being in the future.

Kid Desmond, might pull a Red and run away. (Kid Desmond and adult Red would be adorable though) despite not liking contact from most people, I she's not adverse to giving kids she trusts a piggy back ride. Or shoulder ride.

So It would never happen with a kid Natasha , but Tony, or Des if they asked for sure. Clint wouldn't ask, Steve might still have Serum, and Bruce would be baffled

(This is child turned without adult memories)

Now gender swapped, has its own questions

Would the guys who have beards have them as girls too? Or is it more magical and auto pretty, and they have to put up with big boobs problems?

-----

Jasper's revenge mission from his point of view

For killing my godfather, I will track you down and kill you.

Your getting on a plane are you? I can get on that thing unnoticed no problem.

So you are in that car are you... All I need is a dis... Perfect it looks like they know each other! Let's hide in the car and hope he doesn't have any more luggage.

So everyone here is wearing white. Good thing I never liked this sweater.

Haha I blend perfectly.

What kind of assassins wear white? Wait assassins! I could just hire one! That's so much easier!

Damn it it's apparently class... Actually that's perfect! I could just learn to be an assassin and kill him myself

Why don't we ever learn useful things like parkour in school

Wait even better! I could just hire the assassin teacher to kill him

What do you mean you won't take my money and kill him! What kind assassins are you people!

(Swears in anger at Desmond. Like pretty extremely actually . I think in English it would be something like "you fucking idiotic shit" Osti is for extereme anger, épais is and de marde is of shit, used to place emphasis on the idoticy of the person it's aimed at. ) So after some extreme name calling and swearing at poor Desmond , who thankfully didn't seem to understand the insult, he ran off and stayed out of sight untill Eleanor showed up.

Tante, qu'est-ce que tu fais ici? (Aunty what are you doing here?) (According to Google translate)

Que fais-tu ici?

Je suis vengeance (I'm here for revenge)

C'est l'affaire d'Alyssa. Viens maintenant à la voiture. (That's Alyssa's business. Now come to the car)

I want to try to throw some Quebec sleep into Reds language. I think we did talk about cussing before, but I also want Red/ Jaz to be useing little things more. Like bah, or perhaps saying C’est plate! (Boring!) Under their breath sometimes.

Or just slang like

Baise-moué l’ail. Literally means “kiss my garlic.” Clearly, this is a derivative of an English expression that asks you to kiss a certain part of the human anatomy.

Être tiguidou. Everything is just dandy. No problem here! A-Ok!

Or

J’ai la langue à terre.Roughly translates to “my tongue is on the floor” which means either you are really hungry or tired. The downside to this expression is that you might need to elaborate further after each time you say it, which, all the more, delays the relief you are hoping to get from either hunger or exhaustion. This expression, just like the previous example, may have its roots from Classical French.

Lâche pas la patate! Literally, this translates to “don’t let go of the potato.” Yet another interesting expression, if you hear this from a French Canadian, he could be giving you encouragement not to back out of a daunting task, which is touching. But, most of the time, he is more likely threatening you not to chicken out of a bet, a dare, or a promise.

Especially for misunderstandings

Gosses. This, for sure, can be a very tricky word between Québec French and Metropolitan French. When in France, it will not be an issue if you say to someone “Ca va, les gosses?”in which you are just asking how their kids are doing. Gosses in Québec French however, has come to mean “testicles” for some reason. In short, the typical way of greeting someone’s kids in Metropolitan French may not elicit a pleasant response when spoken in Quebec.

------

Se laisser manger la laine sur le dos.Meaning, to “let someone eat the wool off your back” means that you are letting someone make a fool out of you or swindle you. I personally think that this is one of the more creative expressions from the Québec French variety.

-----

Avoir mal aux cheveux. It roughly translates to “have a hair ache.” It is an expression used to describe an intense headache. One can only assume that it came from the fact that the headache is so severe that it even made the hair feel the pain.

------

*you help me find out who is sending me these things &help me put a stop to it

Aiden: apparently it's Desmond miles.

Jaz: wait, I know that picture. It's the assassin teacher. Why the hell is he sending me this spam

Aiden: he was last seen in Italy

Jaz:then I'm going to Italy to kick his ass. Would you please hack me a ticket

Aiden:and that will cover the favor

Jaz: sure

Aiden: have fun in Italy, Jasper

-----

Jasper arrives in Italy

"I did not think this through"

Picks up phone, and dials Aiden

"Where in Italy was he last seen, please"

Also I find it strange that nither Jasper nor Desmond found it strange that both his godmother and aunt apparently came to the Assassin's farm to pick him up.

Of course Desmond could have thought Jasper was lying, but that Jasper himself treats it nonchalantly Implies that this might have happened before. Do they have a tracker on him or something?

It could also be a that his godmother was planning to kill Thomas anyways,  and met Eleanor was backing her up, untill she noticed Jasper.

It could be the possible Assassin\ Templar reds oblivious to in the cannon, but was mentioned as AU possible world's.

But still. Jasper just told Des, there were two other people you didn't know about there that night too, and he gave it like zero thought. I guess he was still processing that Jasper apparently followed the guy from Quebec to Black Rapids South Dakota. Which is pretty impressive admitibly

-------

#maria stark #desmond miles #aiden pearce #red jordan ryan #howard stark #iron man #writing #original character #marvel #jasper jordan-ryan #french #worldbuilding

[krispyweiss]

Sound Bites Presents His Favorite Live Albums of 2022

Neil Young used “Union Man” to declare: live music is better.

That can sometimes apply to albums as well. And the year almost over featured a slew of terrific in-concert recordings.

What follows are Sound Bites’ favorites, going all the way back to Son House in 1964 and coming all the way up to Aoife O’Donovan in 2022.

The Beatles - Get Back - The Rooftop Performance - The 40-minute concert - remixed in stereo by Giles Martin and Sam Okell - is finally out as the digital-only Get Back - The Rooftop Performance. And though the Beatles had spent the previous few years proving themselves masters of the studio with LPs like Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Rooftop provides a glimpse of what a force they could’ve become as a live act. Full review here.

Aoife O’Donovan and the Age of Apathy Band - Live from the Hi•Fi - When O’Donovan says “We’re on fire up here,” after she and the Age of Apathy Band finish “Elevators,” she is referring to the weather. But she might as well have been talking about the music. Review.

The Jerry Garcia Band - GarciaLive Volume 19 - To call the Oct. 31, 1992, concert that comprises GarciaLive Volume 19 life-affirming is an understatement along the lines of saying Jerry Garcia enjoyed drugs. Review.

Todd Snider - Live: Return of the Storyteller - Few live albums - including 2011’s Live: The Storyteller - capture the essence of a performer the way Return of the Storyteller captures the essence of Todd Snider. Review.

Hot Tuna - 2021-12-29, Freight & Salvage, Berkeley, CA - This album is beautiful for many reasons. Not only because of the low-key, American-blues music, but because of the deep bonds of friendship between the players and the invisible thread that runs from the stage to the seating area and back. Review.

Creedence Clearwater Revival - At the Royal Albert Hall (April 14, 1970) - Fifty years after their breakup, Creedence Clearwater Revival remain so ubiquitous they - and their music - are often taken for granted. But as At the Royal Albert Hall reminds us, the band had not only a passel of stone classics, it was an outstanding concert act. Review.

Neil Young OBS 3: Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 1971, and OBS 4: Royce Hall, 1971 - Recorded two nights apart in 1971 and released on the same day in 2022, Neil Young’s Official Bootleg Series Nos. 3 and 4 are very much the same - from setlists to warm, you-are-there sound. They’re aural time machines to the days when Young’s songbook was relatively thin and virtually no one had heard “Old Man.” Reviews.

Son House - Forever on My Mind - Only 50 or so people attended Son House’s Nov. 23, 1964, concert at Wabash College in Indiana. Although virtually one heard it at the time, everyone can hear it now. And they should. Review.

Grateful Dead - Madison Square Garden, New York, NY, 3/9/81 - Cocaine as rocket fuel. Review.

Zero - Naught Again - Despite the paucity of vocals and the long runtimes, these songs are intricately composed with tension and release where choruses and bridges would otherwise dwell. The tuned-in audience reacts accordingly and the result is an album that damn near succeeds in time travel and space-shifting. Review.

Mavis Staples and Levon Helm - Carry Me Home - Carry Me Home is at its core a religious album that doesn’t require religious ears for enjoyment. Yet, it’s so convincing, those ears may be halfway to the baptismal before the stylus hits the runout groove. Review.

Kris Kristofferson - Live at Gilley’s - Pasadena, TX: September 15, 1981 - Fans who weren’t there can now kinda be there with the release of Live at Gilley’s. The partial-show LP has just enough crowd noise to capture the excitement of the evening and the music proves Kristofferson was one of the rare artists not to fall victim to 1980s production and arrangement values. Review.

12/28/22

#2022 albums #the beatles #aoife o’donovan #the jerry garcia band #todd snider #hot tuna #creedence clearwater revival #neil young #son house #grateful dead #mavis staples #levon helm #kris kristofferson #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #john fogerty #tom fogerty #stu cook #doug clifford #jorma kaukonen #jack casady #jefferson airplane #jerry garcia #the band #the staple singers #the highwaymen

[minister-presidents]

Felicidad Corba y Cuerda de Van Koord

Her Excellency Felicidad Corba y Cuerda de Van Koord (1871-1972) was the fifth Minister-President of Isla Holandesa. Her nickname was "Flick". She was the mother of the previous Minister-President (as well as the daughter of the second Minister-President and cousin to the first and third). Not pleased that her daughter decided not serve a second term, she sailed to victory on her popular daughter's coattails. Probably aware she could not do the same thing a second time, she repeatedly said she would be serving only one term because she was basically completing what should have been her daughter's second term. She mentioned her daughter in every speech and in private and publicly spoke about her almost every day, if not every day. Her daughter's contrasting silence sometimes made people think they were estranged but they were not. She obviously loved, admired and looked up to her daughter a lot and was especially proud of her. As far as possible, she kept her daughter's Cabinet, and while trying to keep and pursue her daughter's policies, she left the running of the government and country totally in the hands of her ministers and advisors. Her term in office was dominated by the spirit of her daughter. She promoted herself as 'a woman of the people' and as such, was very popular and well-known in the drinking establishments of the nation. She was a heavy drinker and rarely completely sober. Some considered her an alcoholic. She was a chain-smoker and did so publicly which was uncommon among most female politicians and ministers (all of whom, supposedly by law, were female). She was lusty, in every sense of the word and while some considered her buxomly plump, others thought she was obese, overweight and out of shape. Rumored to be a dominating sexual partner, she reportedly preferred other women's husbands. She was married to a mostly invisible, submissive and tolerant Dutch resident and citizen of Isla Holandesa. She was sometimes given to lewd, coarse, vulgar and obscene language. She is mostly remembered for her liaisons after her term of office, especially one particular long-term relationship with the artist son of Dr. Catharijne van Schede Chastenet de Puységur, who, supposedly banned, definitely exiled, returned 1970, becoming Isla Holandesa's 14th Minister-President in 1973. Felicidad Corba continued to live at the Presidential Palace even after her term of office and it was there she met the child prodigy Jean Auguste de Chastenet de Puységur ll, with his his mother, the doctor, and impressed with his talent partially raised him at the Palace with his parents' permission. They began a sexual relationship after he became of adult age (some say before). People claim they got married after the death of her husband, though by then, he was openly dating Israeli actress Shama Tolstoy. Flick Corba died April 30, 1972 in her bedroom located in the the rear of the Presidential Palace. She was 101 years old. She died in the arms of Jean Auguste de Chastenet de Puységur ll.

More to come.

#minister presidents #Cuerda #Corba

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

"Good morning, young master, it's 1882..."

The early years of Paul McCartney's post-Beatles group Wings have been on my mind for the past few weeks, even before the untimely passing of the one Wings member who stuck with Paul and the late Linda McCartney through thick and thin: Denny Laine.

15 years ago... Early 2008...

By March, I was scalp-deep in the solo output of McCartney. I had already went through a Beatle-obsessive phase, now I was onto Paul's stuff. His first two albums and such, the first couple of Wings album, just endlessly fascinated by a lot of it...

One day, I had come across a bootleg of a song called... '1882'...

It was in its home demo form, taped sometime in mid-to-late 1970. Presumably a little after the release of MCCARTNEY... The song, in any form, wouldn't see an official release until 2018...

... and this one fascinated me the *most* out of the unreleased material.

1882 would later be turned into a dreary near 7-minute epic in the studio in 1972, and a similar take was played live throughout the Wings Over Europe tour that took place from July to August of that year. At several points, a live recording from Berlin was to be used on Wings' second album - and Paul's fourth overall - RED ROSE SPEEDWAY, which was released in April 1973 after being cut from a double-LP to a single-disc.

Anyways, where was I? Winter 2008... January-March, precisely... Life was rough. I don't want to get too into it, but my brain was in a very low place... It was small special interests like these that got me through such miserable days, and probably made worse by the bitter winter conditions. New England isn't particularly nice during this time of year, you get some truly bitter days mixed with some inexplicable near-summerish ones. Something something Mark Twain-

And when I heard 1882 for the first time... I felt like, for a moment, after so much going on... It's like I woke up in 1882... Like the opening lyrics of the song... I had such a vivid picture of waking up in a vintage old house in the woods.

At the time, I frequently saw my father on the weekends, when he was living in a city. His house, that he got from his parents, was largely not updated since around the early 1980s I want to say? It still had wood-paneled walls, green shag carpet, '70s wallpaper on a vintage stairwell, and the room I slept in... I might as well have stepped into a bedroom from the 1960s. Like how Thomasin McKenzie's lead character, when she stays in that apartment, in LAST NIGHT IN SOHO.

I honestly miss that house sometimes.

But that all just rammed home the vintage-ness of the song, especially in its home demo form. It sounds like Paul recorded it on his Scottish farm, a bucolic and remote setting far off from Liverpool and London. For sure. I feel that sleepy farm life, a post-Beatles wind-down and restart, is captured so beautifully on MCCARTNEY, RAM, and WILD LIFE, and there's some of it left on RED ROSE SPEEDWAY. (It also helps that two songs on that album are RAM leftovers.)

I also really enjoy the studio and live versions, too, but the home demo fits the time period nicely. It's almost a vivid picture into a mundane, if not grim life in the late 19th century. It really inspired me to write stories set in the late 19th century, British period pieces, stuff like that. Not necessarily Victorian ones, but ones set in the countryside, quaint and relatively uneventful, but very much full of feeling and vibe. Almost like an early Disney film or a Miyazaki film. To this day, I still incorporate those kinds of aesthetics and ideas into what it is I do... It's just endlessly fascinating to me, and I do wonder how a song like this would've been received had it come out when it was supposed to.

And even to this day, sometimes, when all feels like a flurry. An utter tornado, a rush of emotions, happenings, and anxieties... I create a mental black out in my head, and then imagine a character waking up... And it's 1882... Somewhere in the countryside...

(The oil painting is apparently titled A VIEW IN HEREFORDSHIRE, Thomas British, fitting name, made around the 1880s)

#Youtube

[laurolive]

Paul and Linda, a collection of PDAs: Part 3 - Holding Hands & Linking Arms …

… and arms around shoulders, etc.

This was a first: a rock music marriage that was openly romantic and family oriented. So many photos of them close together and always touching that we just have to say, “Aww.”

Jan. 1969 From the documentary Get Back. An arm around the shoulder and some hand holding at the same time (multitasking 😊)

Aug. 22, 1969, six days before daughter Mary’s birth.

June 1971 Scotland. Still from the video for the song “Heart of The Country”

Nov. 8, 1971 Launch party for the band Wings and their debut album Wild Life at Empire Ballroom in West London.

July 16, 1972 A walk in Paris, France. Photo by Alain Dejean.

1973 Backstage during The James Paul McCartney TV special

1973 An arm around Linda plus groovy footwear all in the same photo. 😎 🆒

April 1974 at Beverly Hills Hotel, where Paul and Linda stayed with their children while in L.A. to attend the Academy Awards.

July 18, 1974 at Curly Putnam’s farm in Lebanon, Tennessee (near Nashville)

Also appears to be Nashville, June or July of 1974. Paul had that haircut while he was in Nashville, and Linda had worn that same halter top in other Nashville photos.

1975 Photo shoot for People magazine cover story April 21, 1975 issue. The article title was “The McCartneys Paul & Linda,” followed by a quote from Paul: “My family is my life, then my music.” Photo by Harry Benson.

Gotta love those special pics of Paul’s hand clasping Linda’s (or vice versa), with the wedding ring(s) clearly in view.

Nov. 1, 1975 Perth, Australia press conference. Another one of those lovely pics where Paul touches Linda’s hand, which happens to be touching him. 💞 💖

1976 during the Wings Over America Tour (May 3, 1976 to Oct. 21, 1976). This was the U.S. part of the Wings Over The World Tour (Sept. 9, 1975 to Oct. 21, 1976).

1976 Family vacation in Saint Tropez. Either Paul just woke up yawning after a nap, or he’s surprised to see a photographer nearby. Linda is looking sun-kissed with her arm draped over Paul’s shoulder. Photo by James Andanson/Sygma.

1977 With bagpipe band for appearance on Mike Yarwood Christmas Show to perform the Wings single “Mull of Kintyre.” A shortage of chairs, so Paul gives Linda his knee to sit on. What a gentleman. 🌹💐

Late 1970s. Hmm, are his eyes on their guest, or on something else? 😉 😎

May 14, 1980 Cannes, France for Cannes Film Festival, where Linda and director Oscar Grillo won the Palme D’Or for best short film, Seaside Woman, a 5-minute animation based on the first song Linda wrote in 1973.

June 23, 1982 During filming of music video for the song “Take It Away” on stage 4 at Elstree Studios in Hertfordshire, U.K.

1982 Having fun filming for the “Tug of War” music video. Don’t let go of that hand Paul!

1984 🎵 I wanna hold your hand. 🎶 Photo by Terry O’Neill

1984 🎶 I still wanna hold your hand … close to my heart (aww), ❤️ but sometimes I just want to hold your wrist. 😍 Photos by Terry O’Neill.

c. 1985 Photo by Terry O’Neill

1990 Photo by Bill Bernstein.

#paul mccartney #linda mccartney #paul and linda mccartney #paul and linda #paul and linda romantic #paul and linda forever #linda and paul #linda eastman mccartney #linda louise mccartney #linda mccartney and wings #lovely linda

[yesthatssadirichardslove]

After health scare, Madonna launches tour celebrating 40 years as 'Queen of Pop'

LONDON

Three-and-a-half months after she was hospitalised with a bacterial infection that forced the cancellation of her 40th anniversary "Celebration" tour, Madonna returns on Saturday with the start of a 78-date tour.

At 65, the singer looks set to put her health woes behind her with a six-month-long tour of Europe and North America starting at London's 02 Arena.

The tour will also take in the Accor Arena in Paris on November 12, 13, 19 and 20 and the Bell Center in Montreal on January 18 and 20, before winding up at the Palacio de los Deportes in Mexico on April 24.

The show promises to be a "documentary through her vast career" drawing on archive footage and studio recordings from the four decades since her breakthrough single "Holiday" in 1983, according to her musical director Stuart Price.

"A greatest hit doesn't have to be a song. It can be a wardrobe, it can be a video, or a statement," Price told the BBC in an interview.

Madonna spent several days in intensive care in New York after being found unconscious in her New York apartment in June.

But the singer was back and fighting fit after her health scare, Price said.

"The person that is going to take the stage looks incredible, sounds incredible, performs incredible," he said.

The star's hospital stay meant that the North American leg of the tour -- originally due to begin on July 15 in Vancouver -- had to be rescheduled with the European leg opening as planned on Saturday.

"My first thought when I woke up in the hospital was my children," Madonna said in July in a social media post. "My second thought was that I did not want to disappoint anyone who bought tickets for my tour.

"My focus now is my health and getting stronger and I assure you, I'll be back with you as soon as I can!" she added.

The Grammy-winning icon behind classics including "Like A Virgin" and "Material Girl" has asserted incalculable influence as one of music's top stars.

Her decades-long career, which has also taken in acting, film directing and business ventures, has made her one of the wealthiest artists on the planet.

In 2020 she underwent hip replacement surgery following an injury sustained on her "Madame X" tour.

Madonna, whose full name is Madonna Louise Ciccone, was born in August 1958 in Michigan, to parents of Italian and French-Canadian origins.

After starting out as a dancer in the late 1970s in New York with $35 in her pocket, she went on to win seven Grammy Awards and sell more than 300 million records worldwide.

The show's setlist has been kept a closely guarded secret with scores of hits to choose from.

The show is expected to feature around 45 songs, 25 in their entirety and extracts of around 20 more.

"That was the big challenge," said Price. "In two hours, can you get all of it in? That's hard. But every great moment she's had, we took a bit of it."

The singer known for her sometimes provocative outfits such as the pink conical bra outfit by Jean Paul Gaultier, will be dressed by the Georgian Guram Gvasalia, director of the young label Vetements.

For the first time since her early days, Madonna will not be performing alongside an on-stage band, added Price.

"There are live musicians that perform at different parts of the show," Price said. "But what we realised is that the original recordings are our stars. Those things can't be replicated and can't be recreated, so we decided just to embrace that."

#yesthatssadirichardslove

[dorothydalmati1]

Obscure Animation Subject #49: Inakappe Taishō

Originally posted on Twitter on April 9, 2023.

Based on the children’s manga series by Noboru Kawasaki, the show is about Daizaemon, a lively boy who comes with various kinds of animals to the capital of Tokyo. He has a funny habit of dancing whenever he hears music.

He visits a friend of his late father's to learn judo and makes friends with the young daughter of the judo master Kikuko and the cat Nyanko-sensei. Kikuko has great judo tricks learned from her father while Nyanko is able to perform a difficult trick of triple turn in the air.

Both of them are worthy instructors for Daizaemon. Although he shows clownish behavior once in a while, he is always popular among people around and grows stout and shrewd to be a future champion. The show is produced by Tatsunoko Production and is directed by Hiroshi Sasagawa.

It aired on Fuji TV from October 4, 1970 to September 24, 1972, with a total of 104 episodes, each with two 11-minute segments, although one episode is a two-parter. The show aired on the same timeslot as Hakushon Daimaō, serving as its replacement, and still shown before Sazae.

When the series ended, it was replaced by the ever popular Gatchaman, which was a huge hit for Tatsunoko. For Inakappe Taishō, I really don’t have much to say. It’s fine for what it offered and while it lasted longer than Hakushon Daimaō, it was more forgotten about.

However, it does have its fans who do like its humor and having Japanese culture references, and the opening and ending themes are calming to listen to. So yeah, it may get fansubbed sometime but probably not at the moment given that this show is mostly forgotten about.

#Inakappe Taishō #obscure animation #anime #tatsunoko

[theculturedmarxist]

I think it best that I begin with the end. On March 1, I and dozens of Dan’s friends and fellow activists received a two-page notice that he had been diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer and was refusing chemotherapy because the prognosis, even with chemo, was dire. He will be ninety-two in April.

Last November, over a Thanksgiving holiday spent with family in Berkeley, I drove a few miles to visit Dan at the home in neighboring Kensington he has shared for decades with his wife Patricia. My intent was to yack with him for a few hours about our mutual obsession, Vietnam. More than fifty years later, he was still pondering the war as a whole, and I was still trying to understand the My Lai massacre. I arrived at 10 am and we spoke without a break—no water, no coffee, no cookies—until my wife came to fetch me, and to say hello and visit with Dan and Patricia. She left, and I stayed a few more minutes with Dan, who wanted to show me his library of documents that could have gotten him a long prison term. Sometime around 6 pm—it was getting dark—Dan walked me to my car, and we continued to chat about the war and what he knew—oh, the things he knew—until I said I had to go and started the car. He then said, as he always did, “You know I love you, Sy.”

So this is a story about a tutelage that began in the summer of 1972, when Dan and I first connected. I have no memory of who called whom, but I was then at the New York Times and Dan had some inside information on White House horrors he wanted me to chase down—stuff that had not been in the Pentagon Papers. 

I was planning to write about my friendship with Dan after he passed away but last weekend my youngest son reminded me that he still had some of the magic trick materials that Dan had delighted him with in the mid-1980s, when Dan was crashing with our family, as he often did when visiting Washington. “Why not write about him now?” he asked. Why not? 

I first learned of Dan’s importance in the summer of 1971, when he was outed for delivering the Pentagon Papers to the New York Times a few weeks after the newspaper began a series of shattering stories about the disconnect between what we were told and what really had been going on. Those papers remain today the most vital discussion of a war from the inside. Even after the New York Times exposures, their seven thousand pages would be rarely read in full.

I was then working for the New Yorker on a Vietnam project and had learned that it was Dan who did the leaking a week or so before his name became public. His outing was inevitable, and on June 26, after hiding out in Cambridge, Dan strolled to the U.S Attorney’s office in Boston—there were scores of journalists waiting—and had a brief chat with the reporters before turning himself in for what all expected would be the trial of the decade. He told the crowd that he hoped that “the truth will free us of this war.” And then, as he fought his way to the courthouse steps, a reporter asked him how he felt about going to prison. His response struck me then and still makes me tingle: “Wouldn’t you go to prison to help end this war?”

I had done my bit in exposing the My Lai massacre and publishing a book about it in 1970. I was then in the process of writing a second book on the Army’s cover-up of the slaughter. “Hell, no,” I thought to myself, “No way I would go to jail—especially for telling an unwanted truth.” I followed Ellsberg’s subsequent trial in a Los Angeles federal court and even wrote about the wrongdoing of the White House creeps who broke into the office of Ellsberg’s psychoanalyst—at the request of President Nixon. (The government’s case was thrown out after the extent of the White House-ordered spying on Ellsberg became public.)

It was early in the election year summer of 1972 when Ellsberg and I got in touch with each other. I was banging away on the losing Vietnam war and CIA misdeeds for the Times. Nixon looked like a sure thing, despite continuing the hated war, because of stumble after stumble for the campaign of the Democratic nominee, Senator George McGovern. Dan had two stories that he thought could change the dynamics of the November election.

I liked him right off the bat. He was so earnest, so bright, as handsome as a movie star, and so full of the kind of inside information about the Vietnam War that few others had. And so willing to share them with no worry about the consequences. He understood that as the source of highly secret information and procedures he was taking all the risks and that as a reporter I was going to write stories that would get acclaim and put me at no risk. At some point in our chats, I brought him home for a good meal. His campaign against the Vietnam War was literally consuming him, and he immediately engaged with my wife and our two small children. He did magic tricks, he was marvelous on the piano—Dan could play the Beatles and Beethoven—and he connected with all of us. Our friendship was locked in—forever. I confess that late at night—we were both night owls—he and I would walk the dog and find time to sit on a curb somewhere and smoke a few Thai sticks. How Dan always managed to have a supply of these joints from Southeast Asia I chose not to ask. He would talk about all the sealed and locked secret files of the Vietnam War that he could recall, with his photographic memory, in near perfect detail.

In the early 1980s I was writing a long and very critical book about Henry Kissinger’s sordid days as Nixon’s national security adviser and secretary of State, with a focus on Vietnam. At one point, Dan spent more than a week in our home, rising at 6 am to read the 2,300 pages of typed manuscript. He understood that I did not want his analyses or disagreements with my conclusions, but only factual errors. One morning Dan told me I had misread a mid-1960s Washington Post piece on the war by Joe Kraft, whose column was then a must-read. I argued, and he was adamant. So I drove downtown to my office, dug through boxes of files and found the column. Dan had remembered the details of a two-decade-old column in a daily newspaper. His memory was scary.

There were two White House abuses he wanted me to expose before the presidential election in the fall of 1972. Dan told me that Nixon and Kissinger—for whom Dan had written an important early policy paper after he was appointed national security adviser—had been wiretapping aides and cabinet members. The second tip Dan had for me was that Kissinger had ordered some of his aides to produce a plan for using tactical nuclear weapons in South Vietnam, in case they were needed to end the war on American terms. If I could get one or two sources—by this time there were a number of former Kissinger aides who had quietly resigned over the Vietnam War—on the record, Dan said, it just might get the Democrats into office. It was the longest of long shots, but I tried like hell all summer to find someone who had firsthand information, as Dan did not, and who was willing to confirm Dan’s information, even if on background. Of course, it was understood I would have to tell Abe Rosenthal, executive editor of the Times, who my off-the-record source was.

It was a lousy summer for me, because there were a few former Kissinger aides who easily confirmed Dan’s information, but would not agree to my providing their names to the Times. In one case, with a very decent guy who very much hoped he would get a senior job in a future administration, I came close, aided by the fact that his wife—I always conducted such visits at night—said to her husband, “Oh, for God’s sakes just tell him the truth.” She said it over and over. Talk about a painful experience. Needless to say, their marriage did not last long. The wife’s anger that the truth was not being told helped me understand Dan’s obsession with a war whose worst elements were simply not known to the public. I wasn’t able to get any source on the record in time for the election, but in subsequent years I did get the stories. 

There was one story Dan told me in late 1993 that seemed to capture the secret life on the inside of a major war. He had gone back and forth on short missions to South Vietnam while working as a senior State Department official, but he jumped at a chance in mid-1965 to join a team in Saigon committed to pacification—winning hearts and minds—of the villagers in the South. Its leader was Ed Lansdale, a CIA hero of counterinsurgency for his earlier efforts in routing communist insurgents in the Philippines.

I always took good notes in my meetings with Dan, not because I planned to write about him at some point—I knew he would write his own memoirs—but because I was getting a seminar on how things really worked on the inside. Read his words, and you can judge for yourself how complicated life could be at the top.

“In 1965,” Dan began, “I had done a study of the Cuban missile crisis and I had four operational clearances above top secret, including U-2 clearances” and National Security Agency clearances. He had also interviewed Bobby Kennedy two times about his role in the crisis. Ellsberg’s clearances were so sacrosanct that he was supposed to register in a special office upon arrival in Saigon and from then on he would not be allowed to travel outside of Saigon without an armored car or in a two-engine airplane or better. He got around the system by not deigning to register, a rarity in a world of war where top secret clearances were seen by many as evidence of machismo.

And so Ellsberg went off to work in Saigon with Lansdale. “For one and one half years,” Ellsberg said, “I spent nearly every evening listening to Lansdale talk about his covert operations in the Philippines and earlier in North Vietnam in the 1950s. By this time I’d been working with secrets for years and thought I knew what kind of secrets could be kept from whom. I also thought Ed and I had a good working knowledge of each other and our secrets. Every piece of information was cataloged in your mind and you knew to whom you could say and what you could say. In all of this, Jack Kennedy was mentioned and so was Bobby, but there was no mention by Lansdale of Cuba and no mention that Lansdale had ever worked for Jack and Bobby Kennedy.” 

A decade later, after both Kennedy brothers had been assassinated, I wrote a series for the New York Times on the CIA’s spying on hundreds of thousands of American anti-Vietnam war protesters, members of Congress and reporters—all in direct violation of the agency’s 1947 charter barring any domestic activity. It led to the establishment of the Senate’s Church Committee in 1975. It was the most extensive Congressional inquiry into the activities of the CIA since the agency’s beginning. The committee exposed the assassination activities of the CIA, operations undertaken on orders that clearly came from Jack and Bobby Kennedy, although no direct link was published in the committee’s final report. But the committee reported extensively on a secret group authorized by Jack Kennedy and run by his brother Bobby to come up with options to terrorize Cuba and assassinate Fidel Castro. The covert operation had the code name Mongoose. And it was led, the committee reported, in 1961 and 1962 by Ed Lansdale.

Ellsberg told me he was flabbergasted. “When I heard about Lansdale and Mongoose,” he said, “it revealed to me an ability to keep secrets on an insider level that went far beyond what I had imagined. It was like discovering your next-door neighbor and your weekend fishing companion”—Ellsberg, it should be noted, never went fishing in his life—“and close, dear friend who, when he died, turned out to have been the secretary of State.

“It was astounding, because Mongoose was exactly the kind of operation I’d expected to hear about from Lansdale. He told about covert operations all the time. I think Ed had been told by President Kennedy to ‘keep his fucking mouth shut.’

“When you’ve been in a system with as high a level as possible of secrecy, you understand that things do get talked about. And you get a sense of what is usually held back. I was hearing all about other covert operations, but somebody—not Landsdale—had put a lid on Mongoose.”

After the assassination of Jack Kennedy, Ellsberg theorized, “any far reaching investigation into his death would have to lead to many covert operations.” His point was that there was no evidence that the Warren Commission set up to investigate the assassination had done so.

In all of Dan’s many hours of tutoring, as I understood years later, he understood and empathized with my eagerness—even my need—to learn all that I could about his world of secrets and lies, things said out loud and hidden in top-secret documents. And so he happily became my tutor and taught me where and how to look inside the recessed corners of the American intelligence community.

In return, I gave him my friendship and welcomed him into my family. He loved long talks with my wife, a doctor, teaching the kids magic tricks, and playing Billy Joel songs and similar stuff on the piano for them. We all sensed early on that there was a need for him to be an innocent kid, too, if only to serve as a brief respite from his constant anxiety and the guilt he carried in his soul about what his America had done to the Vietnamese people.

Dan was showing me an insider’s love, just as he and Patricia radiated love and acceptance to all their many friends and admirers who, like me, will never forget the lessons he taught us and what we learned. 

No way I’m going to wait for him to move along without saying what I want to say right now.

#seymour hersh #daniel ellsberg #vietnam war #the pentagon papers

[ootori-sibs]

The Candor of Youth

part 11

tw: body shaming, food shaming, implied abuse, homophobia

The main Ootori mansion, April 1970. 

Yoshio Ootori was 16 years old, going on 17. He had just begun his second year of highschool, and was kind of hoping it would be less eventful than his last. To his credit, he'd been more or less behaving; he'd been avoiding his father, finding excused not to visit Kokomi's home, and sometimes actually referring to Yuzuru as a friend.

Not today though, Yuzuru was being annoying today. 

"-wait but why? You're a straight A student!"

Yoshio sighed, gripping the phone tightly in his hand, "Father said only queers learn French, so I have to drop the subject."

"That's not fair!" Yuzuru whined, burning Yoshio's ears a little bit, "there's plenty of normal people in France!" 

"I don't know what to say, Souh, I can't disobey..."

There was a moment of silence and for a moment, Yoshio almost thought Yuzuru had hung up on him. Then, Yuzuru spoke, softer than before. "It's okay Yoshio, I understand. I wouldn't want to make your father angry either. You're allowed to do what you need to, but... if you want to help me with my French homework still..."

To the undertrained ear, it sounded like Yuzuru was just trying to get free labour, but Yoshio had become rather skilled at deciphering what the boy meant. He was suggesting that Yoshio continue to learn French that way. Yoshio... really appreciated that, but he wasn't the kind of boy to do work for free. 

"What do I get in return?"

"Wha-" Yuzuru chuckled, "you tricky little thing, Ootori! Fine, how about I have my mother make us some lemonade when you come to help me, I know you like lemons?"

Yoshio considered that proposal, he did like lemonade... "I like it, but for the grammar homework I want those little custard treats you had the maids make for my birthday last year." 

"Deal!"

"Deal."

With that, both boys hung up the phone. Yoshio couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, he liked their little practice business deals. He couldn't help but to find them fun, plus it was good to have practice. He'd been studying up on the family business lately, trying to teach himself as much as he possibly could about the world of business. 

He couldn't deny he felt excited, just as much as he was scared. The world of business seemed to be calling him like a siren song, it all seemed so exciting, so fascinating. Yoshio couldn't wait to sink his teeth into the family business, and show everyone that he was a force to be reckoned with. 

Currently, however, he was just sitting in his room, daydreaming. He didn't like to waste time, so he stood up, and began to look through his books. It was Saturday, so he had all the time in the world to brush up on his knowledge, but it was also the 4th of April, so his Birthday was soon. The idea of having another birthday did scare Yoshio, but he knew that there was no avoiding it, and more importantly, the day before was far more pressing.

Last year he and his darling fiancee had come up with a wicked, dastardly plan, and tomorrow the second phase would be put into effect. So currently, Yoshio could be forgiven for being just a tad nervous. He wasn't built to be a criminal, but had cut his teeth on that life and needed to follow Kokomi's plan through to the end. 

As he read, he felt an itching in his brain and it was hard to ignore, he closed his eyes, trying to will it to stop. When he opened them, however, there was blood on his hands. 

Yoshio's breath hitched for a moment as he stared at the blood, the sounds of screaming in his ears, the sound of Kokomi's praise echoing in his mind. He felt like there was a weight pressed to his chest, and the room seemed to flicker at the corners of his eyes. 

He blinked again, and it was gone. 

Yoshio wiped the tears from his eyes and shakingly, stood. He opened the door to his bedroom, and yelled for one of the maids to come and run him a bath. 

Waiting for it to be ready, Yoshio sat on his bed and shivered. He wasn't cold, so he wasn't quite sure why he was shaking like this. All he knew was that he felt incredibly filthy, like there was still somehow blood on his clothes, on his body... god, it was everywhere. 

He knew logically that he was already clean, but he couldn't shake the feeling creeping up his spine. He desperately needed to get clean, he couldn't last another minute feeling as filthy as he did right now. 

Was he going to vomit? He wasn't sure; his stomach was turning flips but he wasn't gagging like he usually would. He was dizzy, he was sitting down but still felt like he was going to fall over any second. The maid came to tell him the bath was ready, but he didn't move. She approached him, and gently helped him to stand, walking him to the bathroom. 

She was the nice one, she didn't rattle on about things, and she routinely forgot to starch his shirts. He'd never asked her name, but he was grateful for her help now, as she even helped him undress and then climb into the bath.

The water was warm but not scalding, just the way Yoshio liked it. It helped to ground him a little, and he found his breathing began to regulate itself.

"Are you fine to wash yourself, young master?"  The maid asked, a gentle smile on her face. 

Yoshio nodded, waving her off. "Yes, thank you..."

"Rei, sir."

"Thank you, Rei."

Now he was alone, Yoshio took a deep breath, and gently began to wash himself with a flannel. He didn't like to scrub, he hated the way it felt. He also didn't like bubbles, he found them unnecessary and rather childish. Yoshio did enjoy baths, though, he just didn't like all the frills attached. As far as he was concerned, sitting in some warm water and getting clean was a relaxing enough process on its own. 

The problem with baths is that eventually they have to end. Yoshio looked at his fingers, all wrinkled from the water. He never understood why that happened; shouldn't they have absorbed water, not lost it? Either way, he knew it meant he had been in the bath too long and that it was time to get out. 

He didn't...want to, though. Call him a toddler, but Yoshio hated the immediate cold that came once he got out of the lovely warm water. He decided to compromise, so he pulled the plug, but didn't move. 

Laying in the bath while the water drained was...odd. He felt as if he was growing heavier by the second, and it took a lot more effort than normal to move his body. Yoshio began to get uncomfortable, he might hate getting out of the bath, but feeling weak was worse. He let tiny sounds of displeasure leave his mouth as he tried to sit up, pushing up against the end of the bath to help him slide up. 

He managed to sit up, but the problem then became standing up, or at least somehow getting out of the tub.  The biggest issue with this task would be the fact that Yoshio couldn't stand without the help of his cane, and it was probably impractical to use a cane in the bathtub. 

He also definitely didn't want to call for a maid, it was bad enough he'd had to be helped into the bath, he didn't want to admit he needed help getting out as well. It occurred to him that he could just push through the pain and try to stand, but the risk of cracking his head open on the sink was too scary for him to actually attempt it. 

Plan B it was, then. 

He wrapped an arm and his good leg over the side of the tub, and took a breath before attempting to heave himself over the edge, and onto the floor. 

It worked! With a soft thud, Yoshio landed on the floor of his bathroom, staring up at the ceiling with a whole lot of regret. Why had he done that? Was he stupid? Those questions probably answered each other, he figured, as he climbed up onto the bathroom chair. 

He was out of breath, and his face was red from embarrassment despite no one having seen. He had half a mind to call Yuzuru back and inform him so he knew to laugh at Yoshio. 

God, he was a failure. He sighed, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. Saturdays never seemed to go well for him, then again, neither did any of the other days. Mondays seemed to be his favourite at the moment, as he got to see Kokomi and Yuzuru, but that was really the only reason. Yoshio figured his life really must suck if Yuzuru of all people was a highlight. 

That boy was so annoying. 

Handsome though.

Once Yoshio was finally dressed, it was time for dinner.  So Yoshio made his way downstairs to the dining room. 

Dinner was always far more quiet now that Yosuke and Fumihito were `missing`. Those two had always been so loud and...just a bundle of energy. Yoshio passingly wondered if it was wrong to miss his brothers when it was his fault they'd been kidnapped. 

Sitting down, Yoshio was cheered up by the dish, it was salmon and asparagus. As far as healthy foods were concerned, asparagus was not the worst option, and Yoshio did quite enjoy it actually. His younger brother's didn't like salmon, which Yoshio found quite odd. Well... Akira did like the salmon skin, just not the rest of it for some reason. That worked out perfectly, though, as Yoshio wasn't fond of the skin, and luckily enough, they always sat next to each other. 

Leaning over, Akira, now 5 years old, whispered. "Hey Yoshi... you okay?"

Yoshio nodded, whispering back, "I'm good, why?"

"You've got a bwuise on your arm." Akira informed him, poking him directly in that bruise. 

Yoshio winced, but nodded, "I slipped and fell, don't worry, Akira." 

Akira nodded at that, seemingly satisfied. 

After that little exchange, they ate in silence. His other two younger brothers; Takahiro and Hibiki, were talking about something or other though. Yoshio didn't like to eavesdrop but he was pretty sure they were discussing Attack No*1. Yoshio didn't really watch any shows, he preferred to read or listen to music, now he didn't think that made him better than them... but he was pretty sure it made him smarter. 

Father only joined them around halfway through dinner, and silence fell over the room as soon as he walked in. He was visibly tense, to the point that Yoshio held his breath to avoid his father remembering he existed. 

His father made a comment to Hibiki about how much the boy was eating, and Yoshio felt something flare up inside of him. Hibiki was only 8 years old, it doesn't really matter if he eats `too much` at that age! He didn't dare glare at his father though, for fear of his life. Glancing toward Yuuma, though, Yoshio could see that same fire in his brother's eyes as he felt behind his eyes.

"Father..." Yuuma began, and all eyes were on him. Yuuma was the eldest, but it was still shocking to see him be so brave. "Don't you think it's fine if Hibiki has a little more? It's only asparagus..."

Everyone around the table held their breath, and Yoshio felt faint already. He knew Father would never hit Yuuma, but it was still absolutely terrifying. 

"Only asparagus..?" Father echoed, looking up from his meal with a cold, measured anger that sent chills down Yoshio's spine. "Do you know how that asparagus is cooked, Yuuma?"

Yuuma paused, he clearly didn't know... Yoshio didn't know either, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be good for Yuuma's argument. "I... no father, I don't, but-"

"Using butter!! Yuuma!" Father began to roar, hands slamming down on the table. Yoshio couldn't help but let out an audible whimper, but managed to steel himself when Akira grabbed his arm. "Butter or lard!! If Hibiki wants to eat lard then that's fine but he shouldn't come crying to me if he gets fat!!" 

Hibiki was crying now, with Takahiro comforting him. Yoshio was still in shock that Akira had turned to him of all people for comfort, but he did his best to pat his brother on the head and keep him calm. Yuuma looked pale, and Yoshio had...never seen his older brother so close to tears like this. 

It was a haunting sight. 

"I...yes father, I understand..." Yuuma responded, glancing away and nodding. That seemed to have settled the argument, as father sat down and continued eating. 

Hibiki and Takahiro left the table pretty quickly, followed by Akira. Yoshio was fully aware that Yuuma was watching him closely. He knew that Yuuma wanted to leave, he must be waiting for Yoshio to leave first... 

The problem was that Yoshio didn't want to move a muscle. He barely let himself breath, just in case father saw it as something disrespectful. The last thing Yoshio wanted to do right now was incur his fathers wrath, and if that meant keeping his brother there until father left the room then so be it. 

Maybe he could apologise later on... 

Yoshio could barely bring himself to eat, leaning over his plate so that eating made as little movement as possible. Anything to avoid drawing his father's eye and in turn, his wrath. He felt sick again, just like he had earlier that day. He prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't throw up- that would make everything so much worse, and the idea of throwing up made him even more nauseous. 

He could feel Yuuma's eyes boring into him, but he didn't dare to meet them. Yoshio didn't want to disappoint his brother, but staying safe was more important. He might now be smart, but Yoshio's survival instincts were top tier. He knew exactly what to do, and all he had to do now was keep his thoughts under control. 

However, with every minute that passed, Yoshio grew more and more terrified; his hands shook and he felt that he would throw up even if he breathed the wrong way. His entire body felt cold, and he could feel his cheek burning even though nothing had hit it yet. It was like the feeling that had occurred earlier, but so much worse here, because the threat was undeniably real. Yoshio did have to be careful, and his father was visibly in a bad mood.

#yoshio ootori #ouran high school host club #yuzuru souh