#also the text is from a song called 'wrecking ball' by 'mother mother'
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"Flecking the hedges with red": Palmer's Ballad on the Maryland 400
A photograph of John Williamson Palmer who wrote ‘The Maryland Battalion’
Editor's note: this is an article I posted on September 28, 2016 on Finding the Maryland 400. Reposted from Academia.edu and my History Hermann WordPress blog.
In the past, we have written about poems and songs relating to the Maryland 400. [1] They were celebrated years after and during the Revolutionary War, with newspapers often containing poems and songs. Such poems included one about William Sterrett in 1776 and a song by Tom Wisner titled “The Old Line.” Poems and ballads, which are narrative poems, not only appeared in newspapers but also in books. This post analyzes the 1901 ballad titled “The Maryland Battalion in the Battle of Long Island” and its author. [2]
The ballad’s author was a native Baltimorean named John Williamson Palmer. He was a physician by profession, but later became a journalist, and served as a New York Tribune correspondent in Richmond, Virginia during the Civil War. [3] He traveled across the world to India and elsewhere in East Asia, worked for the East India Company, and warned acclaim after contributing to numerous periodicals. [4] During the Civil War, Palmer wrote the well-known ballad titled “Stonewall Jackson’s Way” during the Battle of Antietam in 1862. [5] This ballad became one of the South’s most popular lyrics. This is not surprising because Palmer joined the Confederate Army and later served on the staff of John C. Breckinridge, the Secretary of War of the Confederacy. [6] After the Civil War, he published a book of folk songs and numerous other books of note. He had become, as his former employer, the New York Tribune, called him, “a veteran balladist” who will “be long remembered” because of his good verse. [7] By the early twentieth century, some claimed that he become a writer with “vigorous lyric faculty.” [8]
“The Maryland Battalion” was originally printed in a 1902 book titled Every Day in the Year. The book was a “poetical anthology” which commemorated “the most striking events in history” and the men and women who “have left an imprint on their day and generation.” [9] The ballad was printed with an introduction making it clear it was about the Battle of Brooklyn. [10] His ballad fits with those he wrote about Stonewall Jackson and the Battle of the San Jacinto in 1836 by exhibiting a patriotic theme, from his point of view. [11]
The text of this ballad is reprinted below [12]:
Spruce Macaronis, and pretty to see,
Tidy and dapper and gallant were we;
Blooded fine gentlemen, proper and tall,
Bold in a fox-hunt and gay at a ball;
Prancing soldados so martial and bluff,
Billets for bullets, in scarlet and buff—
But our cockades were clasped with a mother’s low prayer
And the sweethearts that braided the sword-knots were
fair [13]
There was grummer of drums humming hoarse in the hills,
And the bugles sang fanfares down by the mills,
By Flatbush [14] the bagpipes were droning amain,
And keen cracked the rifles in Martense’s lane [15];
For the Hessians were flecking the hedges with red [16],
And the grenadiers’ tramp marked the roll of the dead
Three to one, flank and rear, flashed the files of St. George [17],
The fierce gleam of their steel as the glow of a forge.
The brutal boom-boom of their swart cannoneers
Was sweet music compared with the taunt of their cheers—
For the brunt of their onset, our crippled array,
And the light of God’s leading gone out in the fray.
Oh, the rout on the left and the tug on the right!
The mad plunge of the charge and the wreck of the flight!
When the cohorts of Grant [18] held stout Stirling [19] at strain,
And the mongrels of Hesse [20] went tearing the slain;
When at Freeke’s Mill the flumes and the sluices ran red,
And the dead choked the dike and the marsh choked the dead!
“Oh, Stirling, good Stirling, how long must we wait?
Shall the shout of your trumpet unleash us too late?
Have you never a dash for brave Mordecai Gist [21]
With his heart in his throat, and his blade in his fist?
Are we good for no more than to prance in a ball,
When the drums beat the charge and the clarions call?”
Tralára! Tralára! Now praise we the Lord
For the clang of His call and the flash of His sword!
Tralára! Tralára! Now forward to die;
For the banner, hurrah! and for sweethearts, good-by!
“Four hundred wild lads!” May be so. I’ll be bound
’T will be easy to count us, face up, on the ground.
If we hold the road open, though Death take the toll,
We’ll be missed on parade when the States call the roll—
When the flags meet in peace and the guns are at rest,
And fair Freedom is singing Sweet Home in the West. [22]
At the time, the ballad was positively received. Noted writer Rossiter Johnson said it reminded him of classic lyrics of another balladist, while the Chicago Tribune said that the ballad, along with his other writings, had become “familiar to the American people.” [23] The St. Louis Republic called it “blood-stirring” and the Baltimore Sun said it had no less “dash and ring” than his other ballads and would, which “rouse the blood to action and enthusiasm.” [24] Acclaimed poet Charles D. Roberts even praised it, calling it a “splendid piece of work, inevitable and unforgettable.” This flattery is not surprising because the ballad was written in style of that time by catering to a Victorian appetite for heroes and legends and preserving the Maryland 400’s story, while cultivating Maryland pride.
– Burkely Hermann, Maryland Society of the Sons of American Revolution Research Fellow, 2016.
© 2016-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.
Notes
[1] Another post on this blog also put the ‘Midnight Ride of Paul Revere’ into context as it relates to Maryland.
[2] Alan, a volunteer at the Baltimore County Historical Society, gave me a copy of this ballad this summer when I made a trip to this historical society. In order to be consistent, the word ballad is used even though some refer to it as a poem.
[3] Henry E. Shepard, The Representative Authors of Maryland: From the Earliest Time to the Present Day With Biographical Notes and Comments Upon Their Work (New York: Whitehall Publishing Company, 1911), 100; American History Told by Contemporaries: Welding of the Nation 1845-1900 (ed. Albert Bushnell Hart, Honolulu: University Press of the Pacific, 2002, reprint of 1921 edition), 282.
[4] Rand Richards. Mud, Blood, and Gold: San Francisco in 1849 (San Francisco: Heritage House Publishers, 2008), 201; Shepard, 100; American History Told by Contemporaries, 282.
[5] Richards, 86, 101; Southern Life in Southern Literature: Selections of Representative Prose and Poetry (ed. Maurice Garland Fulton, New York: Ginn and Economy, 1917), 259-261.
[6] American History Told by Contemporaries, 282; “Words of the Hour”: A New Anthology of Civil War Poetry (ed. Faith Barrett and Cristanne Miller, Boston: University of Massachusetts Press, 2005), 389; Herman Melville, Correspondence (Chicago: Northwestern University Press, 1993), 516; Women reading Shakespeare 1660-1900: An anthology of criticism (ed. Ann Thompson and Sasha Roberts, New York: Manchester University Press, 1997), 110; Shakespeare: The Critical Tradition. The Merchant of Venice (ed. William Baker and Brian Vickers, New York: Thoemes Continuum, 2005), 86; Shepard, 100-101; Southern Life in Southern Literature, 259. Before the war, in 1855, he married Henrietta Lee, a Baltimorean who was a prolific writer and reader of Shakespeare. Palmer also had correspondence with the acclaimed novelist Herman Melville after the Civil War.
[7] “A Southern Poet.” The Evangelical Episcopalian. Vol. 14, no. 1. March 1902. pp. 464; Every Day in the Year: A Poetical Epitome of the World’s History (ed. James L. Ford and Mary K. Ford, New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1902), v. Others called him “one of America’s real poets,” before his death in 1906.
[8] John Wanamaker, Book News: A Monthly Survey of General Literature. Vol. 19 (Philadelphia: John Wanamaker, 1901), 684.
[9] Every Day in the Year, 289.
[10] Ibid, 133, 157-158.
[11] Poetry of the People (ed. Charles Mills Gayley and Martin C. Flaherty, Boston: Ginn & Company Publishers, 1904), 238-239; The Home Book of Verse: American and English 1580-1918 Third Edition (ed. Burton Egbert Stevenson, New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1918), 2429; Index of Current Literature (ed. Edward J. Wheeler). Vol. 40. New York: The Current Literature Publishing Company, Jan-June 1906, 449-450.
[12] The tune of this ballad is not known.
[13] “Scarlet and buff” is a reference to the uniforms Smallwood’s soldiers and said to have worn. In actuality they did not wear these uniforms. Instead, they wore white linen or hunting shirts, leather breeches, leather belts, stockings, leather shoes with buckles, and felt hats.
[14] General Sullivan was driven back by the Hessians, hired soldiers fighting for the British, and flanked by Clinton’s forces in Flatbush.
[15] Martenese’s lane was a road that was the Greenwood cemetery’s southern border in Brooklyn.
[16] As a private of the Maryland William McMillian put it in his description of the battle, “We were surrounded by Healanders [Scottish Highlanders] on one side, Hessians on the other.”
[17] The “files of St. George” are British soldiers.
[18] A British general named James Grant commanded the left wing during the battle.
[19] Lord Stirling, or William Alexander, was a veteran of the Seven Years War, and was a brigadier general during the battle.
[20] Refers to Hessians.
[21] Mordecai Gist was a native Baltimorean and commanded the Marylanders during the Battle.
[22] The last lines are saying that people should fight at any cost for their freedom and is challenging readers to fight and not be weak.
[23] The Missionary Review of the World vol. 24, part 2. Funk & Wagnalls, 1901, 160.
[24] The Missionary Review of the World, 115, 160, 181-182; The Literary Digest Vol. XXII, no. 25. June 22, 1901, 1A2.
#maryland 400#john williamson palmer#poems#revolutionary war#mordecai gist#patriotism#confederacy#civil war#hessians#germany
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-Just because we can-
Originally drawn and posted on May 10th 2021 (Patreon Exclusive).
An attempt to use the golden ratio on an Illustration (most likely to challange myself to use a different technique). It was also in the middle of the development of the relationship for this two, so it was lowkey a hyperfixiation on the two
I have... so much art of this two I couldnt post because it would be a spoiler, and im free now
#fnaf#fnaf ar#clown springtrap#black ice frostbear#fnaf gijinka#gijinka#arte#also the text is from a song called 'wrecking ball' by 'mother mother'#at that time i was checking playlists to get ideas and i came across that song... i think i fits clown well- and what ice means to him
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Longest Night (23) Rocking
And Marinette had thought Highschool had been hard. Right now, in this moment, she'd give anything to go back to those petty arguments and gossip fueled drama. But she couldn't. Instead, she and Adrien were trapped here, being punished, humiliated, tortured, for being heroes, all broadcasted for the world to see. At least she and her kitty were in this together. For now. Whump!Fic
Ao3 | FF.net
I’m very musically minded. I was voted ‘Most Likely to Break Out Into Song’ in Highschool. So it’s no surprise when I have a songfic chapter. I had a similar chapter in my previous ML fic ‘Nine Lives’ where Jagged performs. I’ve always thought Jagged Stone’s music would sound a lot like Radiohead, despite his name being a pun on the Rolling Stones.
Song list and link to playlist at the end of the chapter.
—
Four weeks earlier
Luka was four hours late coming home from work. As a delivery driver, work was often impeded by akuma attacks. As it was, Paris had yet to be given the all clear from the newest akuma, a wreck ball man who was causing absolute chaos through the town. As it grew later and later, Luka’s boss decidedly sent him home, with the warning to be careful.
So Luka biked home. In a city as big as Paris, as accustomed it was to Akumas, people were still out and about, rushing to get where they needed to go. There was no slowing down.
It helped keep life to some sort of normality.
When Luka arrived back home, he parked his bike and headed inside.
“Home, ma!” He called.
“Aye laddie! About time! I’ll warm up yer dinner.”
Luka sat on the couch, catching his breath from his rushed trip home. “Where’s Jules?”
“Oh!” called Anarka, with a gasp. “Her and Rose went off with their classmates! Seems Marinette’s gone missing!”
Luka was back on his feet and hurrying into his shoes. “Where did they go? I’ll catch up with them!”
“You’ll do no such thing! You’re going to eat your dinner, and then you’ll wait here. I was worried sick having you both out there with that akuma still on the loose!”
“The akuma hasn’t been seen in several hours,” he pleaded. “Come on ma, you know how much I like Marinette!”
“Butt! Chair! Now!”
Luka did as his mother instructed, but not without crossing his arms in protest.
As he waited, he flicked on the TV. The cooking channel was on. He didn’t much care about cooking, but he didn’t feel like watching anything else.
Any news about Marinette? He texted his sister.
Then it was back to waiting, his foot tapping too quickly, and his eyes darting between the TV and his phone.
Five minutes passed before Juleka texted back, ‘No, Adrien is missing too.’
He was already feeling sick to his stomach, but a knot coiled in his gut. He couldn’t help but feel like their disappearance wasn’t just a coincidence.
Think positive. He told himself. Maybe Adrien finally opened his eyes, and they’re together, and just lost track of time.
Luka knew what was going on at school. Juleka had told him, confessing that Lila’s story didn’t sit right with her. It sure as hell sounded like utter garbage to him. Marinette had been forced to confess her crush in front of her class, in front of Adrien.
That had to have been painful, and Luka bemoaned the fact he wasn’t in her grade. He would have protected her from this! He would have done something!
“Here ya go, boy-o. Hot soup!” Anarka handed him a tray with a bowl and a baguette.
“Thanks ma.”
Still not hungry, Luka stirred the soup with his spoon, unable to do anything else.
He felt useless. Utterly useless.
Suddenly, the TV turned to static, the show cutting out.
“Damn antenna…” he muttered as he lifted the tray off his lap.
The picture came back, but there was a woman with reflective sunglasses instead.
“Good evening Paris. Please excuse me for interrupting whatever pointless drivel you were consumed with. My name is Salo. I’m not an akuma, but you’ll soon wish I was. I have succeeded where all the others have failed.” She stepped back to show Ladybug and Chat Noir, bound and gagged.
That had been nearly a month ago, and the truth that Ladybug and Chat noir were Marinette and Adrien still hadn’t sunk all the way in.
Yes, Luka acknowledged it. Yes, he believed they were both more than capable.
But he didn’t want it to be true.
Because that meant he didn’t stand a chance.
And that was a very selfish thought.
Ladybug, Marinette, had entrusted him with a Miraculous of his own (on loan of course) a couple of times. That had to mean something, right?
If she trusted him enough for that, then that was enough. She did care about him.
But now it was time to move on from liking her, to supporting her. Things would get rough once they got out. And he was absolutely confident that they would! Ladybug and Chat Noir! Heroes!
Still, as he sat back stage, there a flash of anger that course through his veins.
How did he not notice earlier? Surely, Chat Noir was pretty different from Adrien, but he should have at least had a hunch about Ladybug. He was usually pretty good about reading people.
And yet, the girl he cared about the most…he hadn’t even suspected it.
He shook his head in frustration.
“Nervous?” A voice cut into his thoughts.
Looking up, Luka made eye-contact with Jagged Stone, who was wearing an outfit Gabriel designed to match their costumes. Another fact that he hadn’t quite gotten over yet. He was playing a concert with Jagged Stone tonight!
In front of millions of people.
“No…well, yeah, of course, but…I was just thinking about Marinette.”
“Ah, a young heart in love. A lot of pain, a lot of joy…a pain in the arse.”
Luka chuckled at that.
“Look kid, you’re not gonna be alone out there…for the most part. That solo was your idea.”
“I won’t even be alone for that,” Luka smirked. “I’ll have Adrien with me.”
Jagged gave a hard pat to his shoulder. “I know it’s a somber occasion, but try to have some fun, huh? I know they’d really want it.”
“Yeah, I’ll do my best.”
The city had set up a stage under the Eiffel Tower, one that had no curtains, so the crowd could surround it on all sides. Technically, the band was under the stage, until it was time to begin.
Luka was all ready to go, having tuned his guitars, one electric, one acoustic. He glanced around the space watching people scurry about. Jagged’s band, Kitty Section, Clara Nightingale, Alya and Nino, and a handful of staff. There were some other people he didn’t know.
When he was approached about the concert, he had enthusiastically agreed, though he was warned what could happen if the people who took Marinette found out he was close to them.
They hadn’t taken anyone else yet, but it was just a matter of time.
Still, Luka wasn’t afraid, and he wanted to do this for them.
“Luka?” A girl asked.
He blinked out of his reverie again. “Uh…Kagami, right?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
“Yeah.”
She sat next to him, without another word.
Without much thought, he started to pick at his strings, a soft little melody hanging in the air.
“That’s nice,” said Kagami.
“Thanks…it’s not much.”
“You’re playing tonight, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Nervous?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” He shrugged. He really hoped he wasn’t coming off as short. He just didn’t feel much like talking. That was something Marinette was good about, just willing share her presence and allow herself to get lost in the music with him.
But now she was lost in silence. And even after all was said and done, she’d probably be listening for a piano.
He hit a bad chord, and winced. Then he sighed, and stopped.
“You are fond of her, aren’t you? You went on that double date with us, after all.”
He began to play again. “Yeah, you could say I was fond of her.”
“Did you love her?”
He paused. And then continued to strum. “You know, for all the love songs I’ve ever played and ever wrote…I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. I think I liked her, a lot. But…”
“Knowing who she is, and seeing it in comparison…it’s not love, right?” She finished for him.
“Yeah…you—you got it right on the head. What about you? Did you love Adrien?”
She shook her head. “Same as you. Thought I did…but…Adrien was my first real friend. I think I assumed the admiration I felt for him was love, when it was just…well, love. But not in the way that I thought. I’m sorry, I’m not great at explaining my feelings. I didn’t mean to heap this on you. You’re about to perform and I’m bothering you—“ She stood.
“Hey, no, Kagami…you’re not bothering me at all.” And she wasn’t. Not anymore. “You put what I’ve been feeling into words, and I’m really thankful for that.”
“Really?” She asked, sitting back down.
“For sure! I’ve felt…kind of selfish lately. Like…really really selfish. I should be worried sick for both of them, and I am! Believe me! But…I’m also hurting. Knowing the feelings I had for her are nothing in comparison for how Adrien feels for her…”
“Hey.” She said sternly. “You felt for her. That’s enough. You’re allowed to be upset. Everyone in this whole darn city is upset. No one will judge your reasoning.”
His lip twitched in a smile. “Darn?”
“I’m not allowed to swear.”
“Well, I won’t tell.”
She glanced around and then finally uttered a soft, “…damn.”
Luka snickered. “That’s the spirit.”
“Thanks for talking with me, Luka.”
“Of course, any time.” And when she stood, he gently grasped her wrist. “I mean it. Any time. We broken hearts have to stick together, right?”
She smirked at him. “Just don’t expect me to fall for you right away.”
His eyes widened. “Right away?”
“Uh—“ She blushed. “Or at all.” She cleared her throat. “Well, break a leg.”
Luka felt himself missing her once she had left, even though she’d only been here for a moment.
Maybe he was just lonely. Despite his still conflicted heart.
“Five minutes!” The stage manager shouted.
And just like that, all of Luka’s frustrations and sadness disappeared to be replaced with total and complete nervousness.
He exhaled slowly, and put on his mask—the one Marinette had made—and got into position.
He was a few steps behind Jagged, surrounded by other band members, waiting on a hydraulic lift. Any minute now, it would raise up and he’d see the thousands and thousands of people that had come out.
He could already hear them. The crowd was talking, voices muddled together in waves and waves of humming garbage.
His heart pounded in his chest as he swallowed thickly.
Jagged looked over to Clara and nodded. Then they both looked to Luka, who nodded too.
He wanted to do this. For Adrien. For Marinette.
The floor started to move.
Oh god
Oh god
Oh god
Jagged strummed his guitar, beginning the first song. A favorite of Adrien’s, he was told. The whole set list was made up of their favorite songs from the three bands.
Including one that Luka wrote.
Jagged started to sing.
I do not
Understand
What it is
I've done wrong
Full of holes
Check for pulse
Blink your eyes
One for yes
Two for no
I have no idea what I am talking about
I'm trapped in this body and can't get out
Oh, oh
Now that the music started, it was a lot easier to breathe. If he just focused on his guitar and on Jagged and Clara, he’d be fine, totally fine.
Make a sound
Move back home
Pale imitation
With the edges
Sawn off
I have no idea what you are talking about
I'm trapped in this body and can't get out
Oh, oh
Feeling braver, Luka looked up and out into the audience. He almost stopped playing completely. It was an ocean of people, jumping up and down, cheering and singing along. They flooded the entirety of Champ de Mars, so far back he couldn’t see the end of the crowd. Speakers dotted the edge of the park, assuring that everyone could hear the music.
The concert of the century.
Has the light gone out for you?
'Cause the light's gone for me
It is the 21st century
It is the 21st century
You can fight it like a dog
And they brought me to my knees
They got scared and they put me in
They got scared and they put me in
All the lies run around my face
All the lies run around my face
And for anyone else to see
And for anyone else to see
I'm alive
I've seen it coming
The roar of the crowd was incredible. Thousands and thousands of people gathering together, to support his friends. It made Luka nearly weak in the knees.
“Thank you!” Jagged called, the crowd quieting down more. “Thank you all for coming out tonight. It is my esteemed honor to play tribute to the heroes of Paris…Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste…that’s Ladybug and Chat Noir, if you didn’t already know.”
More cheering, a sonic boom of devotion and praise.
It was touching to hear Jagged refer to them by their real names first, and not their titles.
“The first time I encountered Marinette was not too many months after she debuted as a superhero. She was helping out at Le Grand Hotel where I was staying, and she was assigned as my gopher. I tasked her with finding a pair of glasses with Eiffel Towers on them, nice and big and totally rock and roll. The first pair she brought back weren’t what I wanted, and I told her as much. She went away and returned an hour later with these glasses,” he gestured to his face. “She couldn’t find the ones I wanted, so she decided to make them herself. I was so thrilled with them! They’re still my favorite accessory! Of course, that same day, Ladybug and Chat Noir both saved my butt from an akuma. Since then, Marinette has designed two of my album covers, and Ladybug and Chat Noir have saved me from akumas, and from akumatization. The moment I saw what happened…I was devastated. Marinette’s become like a little sister to me. I appreciate all the things that she and Adrien do for Paris. And tonight I want to give back. I want to let the world know that we’re not giving up! We are looking! And eventually, we will find them!”
Again, the roar of the crowd was incredible. The sound made the strings of his guitar vibrate against his fingers. It almost hurt!
“This is a song—This song is called Lucky, and I wrote it for Ladybug the first time she saved me.”
The bass guitar started in, a rolling chord setting the tone.
I'm on a roll
I'm on a roll this time
I feel my luck could change
Kill me, cera
Kill me again with love
It's gonna be a glorious day
Pull me out of the aircrash
Pull me out of the lake
'Cause I'm your superhero
We are standing on the edge
The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but the light in the park was rapidly dimming. As the crowd sang along with Jagged and Clara, little lights flickered on in the throng of people. Lighters, cell phones, and candles were raised and swayed in time with the beat.
The head of state has called for me by name
But I don't have time for him
It's gonna be a glorious day
I feel my luck could change
Pull me out of the aircrash
Pull me out of the lake
'Cause I'm your superhero
We are standing on the edge
We are standing on the edge
When the song ended, Luka had to take a steadying breath as he was overwhelmed with emotion. It was just too much.
Above them was a giant screen. Several others were on the edges of the park, with the speakers, assuring that everyone could see the band and the footage that was shown.
What followed was Clara Nightingale’s music video she had created for Ladybug and Chat Noir back when they started out. It was an edited version, instead of shots of Clara, it was B-Roll footage that was taken while Adrien and Marinette were auditioning for Ladybug and Chat Noir. It was almost startling to see them in the costumes without the masks.
Because it was so painfully obvious at that point, and yet no one had noticed.
Luka had gotten to be in the final product, wearing a Ladybug mask and dancing with Marinette and Adrien. That was an incredible experience, one he treasured.
He watched as there were pictures of Adrien and Marinette posing together in costume, looking to all the world like the happiest couple.
The ache in his heart started to subside the longer he watched.
Clara spoke as the video ended. “Such wonderful heroes, together they make,
Marinette and Adrien are truly the best.
To raise awareness for both of their sake,
And so with this concert, I just couldn’t rest!
I met them first one warm November,
Adrien was naturally the perfect cat.
Nervous at first, but his eyes full of ember,
he picked up the role in no time flat!
Ladybug was hard to cast,
My blue eyed, black haired beauty missing,
And Marinette auditioned next to last.
I was becoming dismayed spending the whole day dismissing.
Marinette wasn’t even auditioning for the role,
But Adrien batted his eyes big and green,
And tickled something deep inside her soul.
She was whisked off to makeup and we started the scene!
But alas, what a shame!
Both of their masks had completely disappeared!
It was hard to know who was to blame,
But in the end the video wasn’t even cleared!
How sad I was, and angry too,
For my tribute to be shattered.
My heroes then came to push through,
And finished the battle only slightly battered!
I’m thankful for them every single day,
And hope they come home soon.
But their trials have inspired me in a new way,
So I’ll say it all with a brand new tune.”
She had a ukulele, plucked out a little melody, and started to sing.
When I am with you
I feel naked
I can't hide my scars
Piece by piece
You put me together
Till I am no longer
Broken
In between shots of Clara singing, there were photos of Marinette and Adrien together, with friends, in costume, anywhere together. One such was them asleep together on the train to London, looking absolutely adorable.
When I am with you
I can be myself
I don't have to wear a mask anymore
You see who I am
Deep down inside
I grow by the light of your gaze
You fill me with wonder
Fill me with hope
You have opened up my mind
I see eternity in every little thing
When you're by my side
Luka took more calming breaths and tried to think about the concert, rather than his suffering friends. He had two songs coming up, and it wouldn’t do them justice if he burst out into tears in the middle of them.
He glanced over at his band mates for Kitty Section. Rose was standing by Juleka, and she looked like she was shaking like a leaf. Quietly, he went over and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah…just nervous, and I miss Marinette and Adrien. They were both really good at comforting.”
Luka sighed softly, noting that Rose had said ‘were’ and not ‘are’. Past tense.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Everyone here is here to support them. If you get emotional, they’ll understand.”
Rose nodded.
“Besides, this is a battle song. We’re waging a war! We’re fighting back.”
Rose nodded harder. “Yeah!” She said a bit too loudly, though the mics didn’t pick her up.
When I am with you
I don't fear silence
The voices in my head
Leave me peace
Piece by piece
You put me together
And now
I am no longer
Broken.
The song ended and the applause was much more subdued from Jagged’s songs. It was obvious that people had been moved, and not hyped. Still there were whistles and tearful cheers.
A video began to play on the screen, one that Alya had shot a while ago. It showed Marinette outside of school, a bright blush on her face as she clenched the bottom of her shirt.
Alya’s voice spoke from behind the camera, in a nature documenter’s voice. “Here we see the nervousous pigtailious, commonly known as a Marinette, as she prepares to attract a mate.”
Marinette’s head swiveled over to look at her. “Are you seriously recording me right now?”
“A Marinette cannot detect our camera’s if we stay still. Perhaps we can capture the Marinette’s mating ritual for the first time.”
“You are mean and unhelpful.” Marinette said flatly.
“The Marinette is not typically a hostile creature, but will, on occasion, protect itself with a verbal lashing.”
“Well, I’m officially not nervous anymore, but I am annoyed. At you. If this blows up in my face, purge the evidence. If I succeed…play this at my wedding.”
Alya giggled as she said, “The Marinette has targeted her perspective mate,” she turned the camera to lock onto Adrien and Nino, who were a few feet away, chatting by the stairs of the school. “Her target is the sunshinious handsomous, a gentle and docile creature, most commonly known as an Adrien. Here, we see him interacting with a dorkus maximus.”
“I’m telling Nino you said that.”
“The Marinette gathers her courage to approach.”
Marinette glared back, and then inhaled deeply, her shoulders heaving. Then she stormed over to Adrien and Nino, who both beamed at her approach. From this distance, it wasn’t possible to hear what Marinette was saying.
“And thus begins the dance,” said Alya. “The Marinette is a creature of vast ingenuity, and capable of many surprises, but when it comes to finding a mate, she has had no such luck this season.”
The shot showed Marinette flailing her arms, as she backpedalled over her words. She was now shouting. “Not falling for you! Falling here! I fell!”
“And now the Marinette begins her mating call. A different one to be sure, unlike any other in nature. The Adrien has responded to it, but not with a mating call of his own…”
Adrien had taken his bag off his shoulder, digging through it before he took out a little white bottle, and a bottle of water. He tapped the white bottle on her hand, and then gave her the water.
“It seems the Adrien has misunderstood the call, and has determined the Marinette is in distress. A common miscommunication between the Marinette and the Adrien.”
Adrien patted her shoulder warmly, waved to Nino and walked over to his car.
“Once the situation is rectified, the Adrien takes his leave.”
Marinette stomped back over to Alya, her face red and shoulders hunched, as Nino followed behind, laughing uproariously.
“I tried to do the old, ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’ schtick, but instead I said, ‘it hurt when I fell for you. No, when I fell down the stairs, not falling for you. Falling here. I fell. I think I hit my head, and I’m loosing my mind.’ Then he gave me some ibuprofen from his bag and I love him so much!”
After Alya stopped laughing so hard, she finished the recording by saying, “Nature is beautiful.”
Luka watched the video fondly, having seen it earlier in rehearsal. But now it was his turn. Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale both nodded him on.
Oh god
Oh god
Oh god
Rose cleared her throat and spoke into the mic, with her incredibly sweet voice, “It’s been said a dozen times already, but thank you all for coming out tonight. We’re Kitty Section. Adrien played the piano for us on occasion, and Marinette designed our costumes. Tonight we’ll be performing a song called ‘Take Me to War’. It wasn’t originally written with Adrien or Marinette in mind, but I think it certainly fits. And they both really liked it too.”
Luka had originally written the song as a response to all the negative feedback they were receiving online. Metal heads didn’t take kindly to metal about glitter and unicorns.
But after watching the stream, Luka had tweaked the lyrics ever so slightly, and found it was a perfect fit.
He started out with a funky beat, before Rose came in on vocals.
I've earned myself a reputation
That my bark is much worse than my bite
But I keep snapping at Goliath's hands
With all of my tiny might
There are no stones at my disposal
There's no God to award me a crown
But I am always swinging at
Somebody I can't knock down
All of the fire I've swallowed
All of the sparks that went dark in my gut
I am always burning up
Luka tried to focus on the music, as his heart thundered in his ears. The sun had set now, and all he could see was an ocean of glittering stars, swaying in time with the music.
Dress me in red and throw your roses
And I'll rankle the beasts with words
It's a graceless dance of epithets
We learn to make someone hurt
They will consume your sweet resistance
And they'll carry your heart in their teeth
But I am always feeding them
The ugliest parts of me
All of the words I've swallowed
All of the sharp things I've kept in my mouth
I am always bleeding out
Up on the screen, between shots of the band members, there were photos and short videos of Ladybug and Chat Noir, fighting their battles. Whether it was akumas or the media, Paris was getting another reminder of the hard work and dedication the heroes always put forward.
Take me to war
Honey, I dare you
I'll be the sweetest thing
To ever scare you
Give me a fight I can't resist
Give me something to break with my fists
Take me to war
Oh, honey, I dare you
Distantly, Luka thought about the parents. Alya had told them that Tom, Sabine, and Gabriel wouldn’t be at the concert, for their own safety, but he at least hoped they were watching. He had seen Nadja Chamack somewhere under the stage, right? They were broadcasting this, right?
Oh god he was on TV!
I watched a weed usurp the garden
And it poisoned the rest of the crops
It would take days of fighting stubborn roots
To tear the whole damn thing out
So I will leave it where it's standing
And instead I will find me a match
I'll turn it all to kindling
I'll burn it all down to ash
All of the ire I've swallowed
All of the coals that still sit in my gut
I am always burning up
As they came back to the chorus, Luka pushed all other thoughts out of his head, and played his heart out. This was for Marinette!
Take me to war
Honey, I dare you
I'll be the sweetest thing
To ever scare you
Give me a fight I can't resist
Give me something to break with my fists
Take me to war
Oh, honey, I dare you
The applause this time was breathtaking. Maybe it was a little selfish, but he reveled in the praise, savoring it. He worked hard, practiced day after day, and wrote the words in his heart. This concert was for Adrien and Marinette, but the applause was for him, for his sister, for all of Kitty Section. It felt nice.
Another video began to play. One of a young Ladybug, right at the beginning of their run during Stoneheart. She stood on the beams of the Eiffel Tower, proclaiming to all of Paris:
“Nice try, Hawkmoth, but we know who the bad guy is. Let's not reverse the roles here. Without you, none of these innocent victims would be transformed into villains. Hawkmoth, no matter how long it takes, we will find you, and you will hand us your Miraculous!” Using amazing acrobatics, Ladybug proceeded to capture every akuma that had appeared, destroying the hideous mask that Hawkmoth had conjured. “Let me make this promise to you. No matter who wants to harm you, Ladybug and Cat Noir will do everything in our power to keep you safe!” She opened her yo-yo, a cloud of Butterflies bursting forth and disappearing into the sky, the video transitioning to black.
While the video played, Luka had switched out his electric guitar with an acoustic, and took a seat on a stool. The lights on the rest of the stage went out, bringing the focus to Luka.
The crowd settled down, to a small murmur.
Luka swallowed, and spoke. “I…I’m not much of gamer.” He began. “Of course, I like a round or two of UMS, but, I’m not the dedicated fan that Adrien apparently is.” He licked his lips as his mouth felt incredibly dry with ten thousand eyes staring at him. “I was watching the stream really late one night, just checking up on them, since I couldn’t sleep, and I saw this moment…well, you’ll see.”
Up on the screen, there was a clip of Adrien from the stream, in his dark cage. The film was green, being shot with night vision. He had his head rested against the wall, and looked up towards the ceiling. The word ‘chatte’ was perfectly visible on the side of his head.
Luka picked out the notes, before Adrien began to sing.
Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky.
His roar fury's fire and his scales sharpened scythes.
Men ran and they cowered and they fought and they died.
They burned and they bled as they issued their cries.
Immediately, people recognized the song, as Luka could hear little gasps. But no one sang along right away, just listening to Adrien. When the chorus broke, a murmur of voices rolled over the stage, in a cloud of harmony, as kindred spirits sang together.
Dovahkiin Dovahkiin naal ok zin los vahriin
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan
Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal
As Adrien sang, he became a little more triumphant in tune, as his notes filled the silence he was suffocating with.
The crowd fell silent again, listening to Adrien’s tale.
We need saviors to free us from Alduin's rage.
Heroes on the field of this new war to wage.
And if Alduin wins, man is gone from this world.
Lost in the shadow of the black wings unfurled.
Adrien closed his eyes, rocking back and forth, letting the music transport him out and away. To a land of dragons and warriors. It was the best thing for him, pretending to be somewhere where he wasn’t.
But then came the Tongues on that terrible day.
Steadfast as winter, they entered the fray.
And all heard the music of Alduin's doom.
The sweet song of Skyrim, sky-shattering Thu'um.
And so the Tongues freed us from Alduin's rage.
Gave the gift of the Voice, ushered in a new Age.
If Alduin is eternal, then eternity's done.
For his story is over and the dragons... are gone.
When the song was over, and the video cut out, the cheers were deafening. People were crying and sobbing. Adrien was the least prepared to sing in front of an audience. His voice was raw and breaking, some of his notes a little sour. The mic he had wasn’t great, and his throat was dry. He was singing for himself only.
But it was him. He was here with them all. It was his voice.
And that was enough to make everyone that felt completely useless to feel just a little bit better.
“One last song,” said Jagged, with his own acoustic. “A favorite of Adrien’s…and a bit ironic, if I’m being honest.”
Wake from your sleep
The drying of your tears
Today we escape
We escape
Pack and get dressed
Before your father hears us
Before all hell breaks loose
Breathe
Keep breathing
Don't loose your nerve
Breathe
Keep breathing
I can't do this alone
Sing us a song
A song to keep us warm
There's such a chill
Such a chill
You can laugh
A spineless laugh
We hope your rules and wisdom choke you
Now
We are one
In everlasting peace
We hope that you choke
That you choke
We hope that you choke
That you choke
We hope
That you choke
That you choke
—
Radiohead songs in order:
‘Bodysnatchers’
‘Lucky’
‘Exit Music’
Then I used ‘Piece by Piece’ by Eivør for Clara’s song.
Kitty Section’s song was ‘Take Me To War’ by the Crane Wives.
Then the song that Adrien sang was ‘Song of the Tongues’ from Skyrim.
I made a playlist of all the songs that are (or will be) in this fic, and those that inspired it at on youtube
#longest night#miraculous ladybug#ml#luka couffaine#fanfiction#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#adrinette#ladynoir#fanfic#jagged stone#clara nightingale#ladybug#chat noir#song fic
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“why i won't #shoutyourabortion by tinka jonakova. it was in fiona apple's hands. torn between being an artist and a mother, not even in new york six months, newly in love, my heart and soul were not cohabitating well with the baby growing inside of me. my brain was wrecked with the problems, my boyfriend deduced it to "it's just cells" and everyone seemed to have their own opinions. also, i had to announce my pregnancy to him over email because he lost his phone. for weeks i walked those rain-soaked streets. his long-term girlfriend would break-up with him if i had it. that hung in the air. i got tarot readings, astrology readings, asked people who had known me forever what i should do, and also people who had known me mere weeks their opinions. i was so busy asking everyone else that i never calmed down enough to ask myself.
i didn't trust myself back then enough to know.
the last thing i did while pregnant was go and see fiona apple. i was 12 weeks and i was going to let her decide for me. my hands were on my stomach the whole time. it's been 5 years. all year 5 years by david bowie has been playing for me over and over and over again.
after the show i walked around a grocery store talking to a friend from seattle who also has lived in brooklyn. she was as sensitive as myself and said it was hard to know what she would do if she was in my shoes. that brooklyn was no place to be pregnant. she now has a 6 month old boy. i texted the father and told him we needed to speak but in the apartment in washington heights that a friend was kind enough to let me stay in i got no phone reception and never heard from him.
the next day i went to union square. i was a mess. we met on a bench. he knew he had to go with me. i had tried to make an appointment once before but i had cancelled it because my heart was a stubborn organ. when i called him he raised his voice to me for the first time ever until i agreed to make another. it wasn't his finest moment.
last december i started listening to taylor swift of all things( that's because of my niece) and the very first song i heard was out of the woods. it seemed very clear that the song could have been about that day at the clinic. i've never had such a scary moment unless you count being hit by the car. those two are neck and neck. what sticks out in what i couldn't escape is turning my head towards him and the look in his eyes and for mere seconds, it shut everything else out. . that and him clutching my balled fist. his eyes said so much because i was so in the fucking woods, and scared to death, and that look let me know that he was there too, but that we would find our way out together.
turns out fiona apple doesn't want to have kids. (also, her song "Left Alone" just started to play. this happens all the time. I talk about something, and related music starts to play. I'm still trying to figure it out). I read that in a magazine article a few days later. don't think i didn't get that lesson loud and clear (The next song playing, btw, is Bowie's "Glass Spider" another reference to mothers and children...keep in mind this playlist is on shuffle and has over 6k songs---also I haven't heard that Fiona Apple song in many months).
Why be vulnerable in public? I don't know, it's a good question. Because it scares me to death. Why not try.
I carry that child with me every day. Ask my analyst. “
#out of the woods#taylornation#fiona apple#writer#5:55#when you started crying baby i did too#taylor swift#shoutyourabortion
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Manifest - ‘Crosswinds’ Review
By Baby M
"This is gonna sound crazy."
"I think our operational baseline is ten points up from crazy."
"Yeah, well this is gonna turn it up to eleven."
It's ten days after the events of the previous episode. Marko and the other people rescued from the secret underground laboratory are still in a catatonic state from the effects of the electroshock experiments. They're being tended to by Fiona, Saanvi, and Autumn in an architecturally stunning seaside mansion (which I shall hereafter refer to as the Impossibly Cool Beach House, or ICBH for short). Meanwhile, Ben and Michaela are living in an apartment, and Jared is out of the hospital and returning to work.
Oh, one more thing – nobody has had a calling in ten days, either.
No one has had a calling, that is, until Michaela, on a visit to the ICBH, has a super-lucid first-person hallucination of stumbling through a snowstorm while a voice whispers "Find her." At that precise moment, one of the experimental subjects, an attorney named Paul, wakes up.
Paul doesn't remember who he is, or how he got on Flight 828, or much of anything about himself. He'd ended up in the experiment because he was one of the ones who had no one come to the hangar to pick him up. His wife Helen not only didn't come to the hangar, she seems to have dropped off the grid completely. (He doesn't remember her, either.) From this, Michaela interprets the snowstorm vision as a direction to find Helen.
Fiona and Saanvi convene a meeting at the ICBH of passengers who returned to the plane to watch it blow up. All of them are having a hard time adjusting. Flight attendant Bethany complains that the "Believers," the 828 groupies who first appeared a few episodes ago – officially "Believers" with a capital B according to the closed captions – were waiting for her outside the courthouse when she was released. (She's not the only one having Believer issues, either.) Another passenger, Andre, complains that he was an "entrepreneur wunderkind" before the plane disappeared, and wants his life back.
When Fiona suggests that maybe it was her destiny to be on 828 to act as "as an interpreter" of the "shared consciousness" experience, the pilot, Captain Deal, stalks off. He suggests to Ben that Flight 828 might have been Fiona's "twisted science experiment." One might say he's a bit on the paranoid side. Of course, as the saying goes, just because you're paranoid....
Michaela and Jared go to Helen's house, where they find piles of unopened mail and a milk carton left out on the counter which has an early November expiration date. They eventually trace her to a motel, where she is hiding from her abusive husband. "Paul coming back was like this wrecking ball smashing into everything I built."
Upon returning to the police station, Michaela tells Jared she doesn't want to work with him any more because she doesn't want to be "a giant wrecking ball smashing into everything in your life." She then goes back to the ICBH and gives Paul a good hard verbal napalming for abusing his wife.
Ben, meanwhile, has gone down another metaphorical rabbit hole of inquiry, where he meets Aaron Glover, a freelance journalist who runs a podcast called 828-Gate. From Aaron, and Autumn, and Director Vance's right-hand man Powell, Ben learns enough to deduce that that the mysterious "Major" is a woman, and she's running a black-budget investigation into Flight 828 in search of what she calls "the Holy Grail."
Grace is spiraling into depression again, and Olive (who has seen this movie before) decides to do something about it by inviting Danny over for a visit. This does not go over well with Grace, and it gets even more uncomfortable when Ben, responding to a text from Cal, arrives in mid-argument – and comes to realize that his return was a metaphorical wrecking ball with respect to Grace and Danny. (That metaphor sure gets a workout this week.)
As this is going on, Jared shows up at Michaela's apartment and declares his love for her, leading to some rather improper physical activity IYKWIMAITTYD.
I should also mention that Autumn, having seen what the experiments did to her fellow passengers, decides to stop spying on Ben. However, The Major is not the sort of employer who calmly accepts an agent's two-week notice.
At the very end of the episode, Cal has the same first-person snowstorm vision as his aunt did, complete with whispered voice message. However, Cal's vision goes on for a second or two more, and we see that whoever is stumbling through the snow is carrying a picture of Michaela.
"828" Watch
Lots of "828" sightings this week!
Romans 8:28 is referenced in the inscription on Karen's headstone.
Ben and Michaela's apartment number is 414, which is half of 828.
Helen's house number is 1829½, probably symbolic of her "moving on" after Flight 828 disappeared
Her motel room is room 28 – but it's not at a Super 8 motel. (That would have been a really clever little gag.)
The Believers have "828" all over their signs.
Also on the manifest...
According to government statistics, domestic violence is (unfortunately) common enough that if the 192 individuals on Flight 828 (191 on the manifest plus Thomas the stowaway) are a representative sample of the general population, there would be at least one abuser among them – and more than one victim of abuse.
If Paul really has permanently lost his memory as a result of the electroshock experiments, is he still morally responsible for his past abuse of Helen? There was a very powerful episode of Babylon 5 which explored this theme: "Passing Through Gethsemane."
One scene takes place at Director Vance's memorial service, where the speaker makes mention of the Director's wife and kids. Guess he's really, for-sure, permanently dead. I'm going to miss that guy.
There's a short scene where one of the Believers asks Andre, the former "entrepreneur wunderkind," to let her touch him. You can almost see the wheels turning in Andre's head, figuring out how he could perhaps make a living as an object of worship.
While teenager Olive is very good at reading her mother and recognizing that she's spiraling into depression again, she's not mature enough to anticipate just how badly pulling Danny back into the mix could (and did) backfire. That's very believable.
This week's gold stars for acting go to:
Melissa Roxburgh (Michaela) for the scene in the cemetery where she's talking to her mother.
J.R. Ramirez (Jared) for the wordless scene where he comes home from Michaela's apartment and sees his sleeping wife Lourdes.
Jack Messina (Cal), for perfectly portraying a little boy who can't understand why his parents are separated.
The picture of Michaela we see at the very end in Cal's snowstorm vision looks to be a page out of an article in a celebrity fluff magazine like the ones you see in the grocery store checkout line. I tried freeze-framing it, but I couldn't make out any of the print.
If I've figured the in-universe timeline correctly, it should be mid- to late December by now. Yet, we've seen no Christmas trees or decorations, even if only in the background.
With all the repeated use of the phrase "Holy Grail," I kept waiting for someone to reference Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Unless I missed it, there were no Python references, not so much as an unladen swallow's worth, anywhere in the episode.
While that was disappointing, the showrunners are to be commended for resisting any compulsion they may have felt to use "Torn Between Two Lovers" (Mary MacGregor, 1976) or "Wrecking Ball" (Miley Cyrus, 2013) as licensed music in this episode. Unfortunately, the record company back catalogs are brimming with thousands of other equally dreadful pop songs that could be (mis)used in future episodes. Stay strong, showrunners!
Quotes
Michaela, to her mother's headstone: "'All good things.' What I would do to hear you say that one more time. I wouldn't say I don't believe. I would say that I want to because there has got to be a reason this is happening to us."
Olive: "Frozen waffles. This is bad."
Cal: "They still taste good."
Olive: "She's in a dark place."
Cal: "She misses Dad."
Captain Deal: "You weren't in that cockpit. No one is blaming you for what happened to MA 828." So who is blaming him? Or is he blaming himself?
Ben: "Podcast. That's still a thing?"
Conclusion
This was overall a pretty good episode. I found it far too neat that everyone came to the immediate conclusion that "Holy Grail" was a codename and not just a metaphor (or a Monty Python reference), and as in previous episodes, Ben's investigation developed at a little too fast a pace. On the other hand, the "Enoch Arden" scenario involving Ben and Grace and Danny and Olive was realistically developed and very well acted, as was the rapidly-evolving Jared-Michaela-Lourdes triangle. It will also be interesting to see what develops with Autumn.
Three out of four metaphorical wrecking balls.
Baby M has been in a couple of wrecks, but none of them involved a wrecking ball.
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I was tagged by: The awesome @mysterious-teen-blogger my faviourite american :D
The last
1. drink: Coca Cola
2. phone call: I had a phone call from a job I applied for
3. text message: A text from the same people I got the phone call from
4. song you listened to: I feel pretty/ unpretty. Quinn and Rachels duet from Glee
5. time you cried: Uh ages ago I don’t really remember? Actually I do it was a few months ago after things with my mum and me reached a boiling point and we had an argument which resulted in us not talking anymore.
Have you ever
6. dated someone twice: No
7. kissed someone and regretted it: No
8. been cheated on: No
9. lost someone special: Yeah
10. been depressed: Oh my buddy my pal my friend ;)
11. gotten drunk and thrown up: No
3 favorite colors
12. Red
13. Black (I know it’s a shade not a colour but whatever :P )
14. Green
In the last year have you:
15. made new friends: Yeah
16. fallen out of love: No
17. laughed until you cried: Yup
18. found out someone was talking about you: No I don’t think so
19. met someone who changed you: No
20. found out who your friends are: Yeah
21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: Nope
General:
22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: All of them. I’m one of those people thats super picky about who I add. I have to have met you liked you and had like 2 conversations with you first.
23. do you have any pets: YES! I have a dog Benji. He’s a cavoodle he’s almost 7 years old and I love him more than life itself. I also have a Budgie called Oliver after Oliver Queen and I adopted him from the RSPCA.
24. do you want to change your name: I’ve thought about it but nope my name is AWESOME
25. what did you do for your last birthday: I watched Lego batman by myself and had a party to which NOBODY came
26. what time did you wake up: 10am but if you mean what time did I get OUT of bed No comment
27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Reading fanfiction
28. name something you can’t wait for: COMIC CON (I just hope I have the money to go )
31. what are you listening to right now: Wrecking ball by Mother Mother
32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yeah there was a guy in my cohort at school called Tom
33. something that is getting on your nerves: The STUPID Australian goverment
34. most visited website: Tumblr
35. hair colour: Brown
36. long or short hair: I have short hair
39. piercings: None
40. blood type: I have no clue
41. nicknames: I used to call myself Liongirl but other than that nope
42. relationship status: Single
43. zodiac: Aries
44. pronouns: They/Them
45. favorite tv show: Pretty Little Liars and Arrow
46. tattoos: I don’t have any but there are two I’m planning on getting. One is this quote: “I am the master of my fate I am the captain of my soul” and the other is DC comics one I designed myself.
47. right or left handed: Right
48. surgery: Dude I’ve had so many I’ve lost count. I had at LEAST one a year till I was 11 and I have another one or two coming up.
49. piercing: None
50. sport: I used to play Field Hockey. What I really liked though was Handball/ four square that we would play during breaks at school it really sucks that it isn’t like an actual sport cause I was REALLY good at it and loved it so much. Uh I played a little basketball. OH and I LOVE baseball. But other than that Sport sucks.
51. vacation: New York, New York :D
52. pair of trainers: I have a pair of black vans which I love
More general:
53. eating: The last thing I ate was Spag bog last night for dinner
54. drinking: Coke
55. i’m about to: Read some fanfic
56. waiting for: COMIC CON
57. want: Money to go to Comic Con, a job, the stupid goverment to do it’s job.
58. get married: Yeah one day
59. career: I want to become a PI
Which is better:
60. hugs or kisses: Hugs
61. lips or eyes: eyes
62. shorter or taller: If you were shorter than me you would be TINY so taller
63. older or younger: Same age or older
64. nice arms or nice stomach: Don’t care
65. hook up or relationship: Relationship
66. troublemaker or hesitant: Both both is good
Have you ever:
67. kissed a stranger: Nope
68. drank hard liquor: . Uh is Whiskey or Rum hard liquor cause they are my drinks of choice either mixed with coke or on the rocks so if they are yeah if not nope.
69. lost glasses/contact lenses: Nope
70. turned someone down: Once in like grade 7 this dude asked me out as like a joke and I said no but other than that never had the oppurtunity to
71. sex on the first date: No
72. broken someone’s heart: I don’t think so
73. had your heart broken: Romantically no by family yeah
74. been arrested: No
75. cried when someone died: Yeah
76. fallen for a friend: I sure have
Do you believe in:
77. yourself: When I’m not depressed ;)
78. miracles: Yeah
79. love at first sight: I believe in meeting someone and KNOWING they will be important to you or that they will change your life but not love at first site.
80. santa claus: No
81. kiss on the first date: Yeah why not
82. angels: Yeah
Other:
83. current best friend’s name: Rohan
84. eye colour: Brown
85. favorite movie: Pitch Perfect
Ill tag these awesome peeps @politicallyobsessedscholar @feelsallovertheplace @wheretheroofdoesntleakinmyheart @autisticavenger
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Tag 9 People You Want to Get to Know Better
I was tagged by @luna-myth
Questions:
what’s your age? 34 (yes, there are people in their 30′s on here...even though I’m old enough to be a mother to some people on here...yikes...)
what’s your current job? I’m an optician. I help people pick out new glasses, order their prescriptions, and repair/adjust glasses.
what are you talented at? Baking, getting too emotionally invested in characters, mild snarkiness, laughing at inappropriate times, and occasionally crying over my eternal singleness
what is a big goal you are working toward (or have already achieved)? Owning my own coffee shop/bakery
what’s your aesthetic? Steam curling off of mugs of coffee, braids, vintage dresses, sunrises, mountain valleys, winding streams, old books, freshly baked muffins, Dean Winchester’s eye crinkles, Steve Roger’s hands and forearms, and John Thornton saying “Look back at me.”
do you collect anything? Nerdy art, Funkos, cookbooks, favorite characters, and most recently geeky pins (thanks to my love, @modmerseygirl)
what’s a topic you always talk about? New recipes, favorite scenes, and the freedom that comes with accepting who God made you to be.
what’s a pet peeve of yours? When you send someone a sincere heartfelt text, and they text back one word and nothing else. Also the when people call their significant other “Baby, Babe, or Bae”. My skin crawls just thinking about it.
good advice to give? Don’t be afraid of growing older. People always talk about turning 30 like it’s some kind of death sentence, but for me it was the opposite. It was like this locked door was opened, and I was finally free to be my true self in all it’s nerdy glory. Y’all, my thirties have been the best years of my life so far so don’t be scared of them.
What are three songs you’d recommend? Three??!! Just three??!! Okay then...here’s a few of my top favs:
Suicide Baby by House of Heroes Daylight by Brave Saint Saturn (Reese Roper’s raw vocals on this track never fail to make me cry. The whole album is amazing. It’s a space opera that tells the story of a team of astronauts who are lost in space. It sounds weird, but it’s awesome. 10/10 would recommend.) Wrecking Ball by Dustin Kensrue (I didn’t care for the original, but hearing Dustin’s cover was life changing. Now I love it.) Bonus song because I’m a rebel: Alone by Heart (because it’s my go to karaoke song, and I’m an 80′s baby)
Tagging: @modmerseygirl, @mskaizer, (because you two are my go to girls) @boombubblepop (woot woot, now I get to return the tag from yesterday! ;D) @ishtarelisheba, @lyndz721, @piquingmycuriosity, and that’s it because I tagged a bunch of people yesterday, and don’t want to be annoying.
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2:30 PM
2:21 PM
I was at the bottom of the stairs going up. He was at the top of the stairs looking down. I knew his glance was on me - those deep-set, black eyes, that smooth tan skin, the long, rugged hair that was a little brown in the sunlight - so I moved to puff my chest a little more, jut out my butt a little more, and smile like I just saw deliverance.
He was deliverance. Lucien Paloma was a handsome, sophisticated, exploding package of deliverance.
He ran down an empty flight of stairs. It was the last semester of school.
"Happy monthsary, little girl," he breathed slowly as he caught me in a tight hug.
Heady from that warm whisper, I kissed him on the mouth - in public - and looked at him. He unlocked that tight embrace and shouted with his fists clenched, hands stretched above him.
"Ang swerte ko sa girlfriend ko!"
Surprised, I quickly pressed my palms on his mouth, and we erupted into a fit of giggles.
This scrawny, morena girl from Tanauan, Batangas was finally in love. I was 21 years old.
2:22 PM
I worked in Makati. He worked in Taguig. We were both away from probinsyano parents, toiling our own lot and ignoring the admonitions of, "Masyado na ata kayong siryoso."
I was a writer. A creative. He was a legal assistant. A nerd. We moved in together three days before our first anniversary. Nobody but Consi - my best friend - knew.
Well, supposedly nobody.
The first few nights with Lucien was absolute bliss. Each moment felt exactly like that song "Wouldn't it be nice?". Sweaty in our sleep, hands clasped together, dreams of futures with shiny condo units and travels to Europe, and all the beauty of first-time intimacy. I didn't want to do it at first, but he insisted. When the pain peeled away, I was left with absolute bliss. We barely noticed that we were holed up in a mosquito-infested, flying cockroach-ridden bedspacer for two.
Until that Wednesday. That Wednesday, I received a call from my mother.
"Putangina mong boba kang bata ka," she sneered.
I was speechless.
Prompted by concern, Consi told my mom. My mom made a fit. Every thinking creature in Tanauan knew.
"You will regret this day," she said in native Bisaya.
My mom - a restobar singer - has two kids from different fathers. I'm the first. Shameful offspring of a loveless marriage with a now-stranger called Rudy Castiliano. Chrissy was the second. Proud product of a one-night stand with a vacationing Joe in Laiya.
Painfully, she single-handedly brought both of us up. The toil took her beauty as well as her voice. She cooks now.
The love she wittheld from me, she poured on Chrissy. Someday, she hopes, Chrissy is going to be crowned Miss Universe and will buy us all a 3-storey house in Forbes Park.
There was only one thing she asked from me: not to waste my life on love.
I glanced to sleeping Lucien by my side. Shirtless, with beads of sweat pooling along the ridges of his stomach, his hair in a mess after an hour of love-making. This, I could not resist.
I never heard from her again.
2:23 PM
It started with a fight.
Lucien hated his boss. Hated his tie. Hated his life. He was a firecracker: he could perform beautifully if he wanted to, but stretched too thin, he could hurt you.
He stormed into our room seething. He banged the door behind him. This wasn't the first time.
"Don't be noisy. Magagalit si Aleng Tina," I lovingly said.
He looked at me, lost. I thought he was going to erupt in tears. He pulled me closer and tightened his grip on my wrist. I was ready to cradle him in my arms like I always do.
But, this time, he said, "Don't you ever tell me what to do."
The last thing I felt was a loud slap thundering on my face.
I dreamt of Miss Universes and write-ups and my mother's blank face that night.
2:24 PM
He was sick.
Hunched over him, applying cold compress to his forehead, feeding him spoonfuls of lugaw, my anger softened.
I told myself it was the stress. I told myself it was the boss. I told myself it was his weak immune system.
He's okay. We're okay. He gets angry. A little slap here, a little squeeze there. It wasn't violence. It was just gigil.
That went on for 5 months.
Then he quit his job.
I take a 6:00 AM - 2:00 PM shift at my job. I wrote English crime articles for a foreign company.
At precisely 2:24 PM on the eve of our second anniversary, I open the door to our sanctuary.
I heard creaking, and thought it must be Lucien with his exercises. He says it's 3 months of 'funemployment'. I say it's 3 months of 'tambay'. He gets annoyed.
Unfortunately, somebody has to pay the bills, so I've OT-ed for so many days already. He wouldn't be expecting me this early.
I tip-toe to the bedroom door and open it gently, eager to surprise him
My heart sank.
The fair-skinned Kala Yu sat, half-naked, beside Lucien on the bed. She had her hand on his manhood. He had his palms on her cheeks. Kissing her. Inhaling her. Swallowing her.
She was a superviser from work. He used to say he hated her posh private-school credentials and red designer bags.
I ran out crying.
2:25 PM
It was a scene from a movie.
I come out from my office building in the pouring rain. I seek shelter below a green parasol of a nearby Starbucks, berating myself for forgetting my umbrella at home.
Lucien fled that horrid day - not to be seen again for 9 days. I was a wreck.
And then I see him.
In the rain.
Piercing black eyes, ruffled hair, slim figure, wet in the rain. Looking at me. With love and longing like that day on the stairs. With repentance.
He moved closer. The sting of alcohol on his breath. He was inches away from me now. Staring dead into me.
"I promise you. I will never see her again," he said each word slowly, surely.
I thought the certainty I heard in his voice was honesty.
I was wrong.
2:26 PM
It has been months since the she-devil manifested her presence in our home.
I tried to prevent myself from falling further, but the Lucien of the past months evaporated. Once again, he was the upbeat, smart-alecky, loving puppy of a boyfriend I knew.
He said he was happy with his "freelance" job - legal writings for clients here and there. He said he was happy working from home, catching up with his college friends, feeling "kolehiyala" again.
I was happy that he was happy.
I didn't tell him I was tired from working long hours at the office. I didn't tell him I was scrimping on my clothes, make-up for water, electricity. I didn't tell him our grocery expenses nearly doubled in the last year. I didn't tell him my savings account always seemed to dwindle down to 4 figures.
I also didn't tell him I knew that Kala still cast a shadow on his life. I didn't tell him I found out it was Kala who was giving him the P5,000/write-up side jobs. They talked only on chat, as far as I found out.
He promised me, right?
I also didn't nag him on the money he should be contributing. Money that he otherwise spent on friends, alcohol and God knows what.
I didn't want to risk his bad side.
I could still feel the phantom pain of that clenched fist on my wrist.
2:27 PM
I come home to a noisy spectacle of Lucien and his college friends drinking and smoking outside the apartment. One of Lucien's friends wolf-whistled as I approached. Lucien just laughed.
I ignored them and entered the room. I hurled myself on the bed. I turn to my phone.
Consi sends me a message request on Facebook. I still haven't forgiven her.
Idly, I open the message. Another sorry, perhaps?
I'm sick of sorries now. Between Lucien's fits of anger, our fights about Kala, his rowdy nights with friends and his desperate calls for forgiveness, 'sorry' is losing its meaning.
"I need to talk to you," Consi left a message.
She was online. I saw the floating dots. She was typing.
"May sakit Mama mo. Malala na. Puntahan mo siya."
I thought I was hallucinating. But the black text on gray didn't lie.
It's been nearly three years since I last talked to my mom.
I rushed to the bus terminal.
2:28 PM
I passed roads with potholes, gymnasiums with torn posters of our Mayor, lazy carabaos, and bare-foot children playing in the mud. Home never changed.
In our small bungalow in Tanauan, my mom lay still facing up with her eyes closed. Her wrinkles, sunspots belied the wry smile she tried to keep up.
Weakly, she said, "I'm sorry, anak."
She held out her hand. I moved closer, shuddering at the coldness.
"Sorry din, Ma."
I wish I said I love you, but the more I loved in this life, the more it hurt.
She needed help. I mentally computed the dizzying array of expenses - medicine, a hospital in Manila, a doctor's professional fee. Where would I get that money?
Chrissy pulled at my skirt.
"Ate, pray na lang tayo kay God?" her blue eyes pleaded to me.
In my head, Lucien's voice rings loud and clear, "There's no God. If there were one, he's a fool."
2:29 PM
By the time I got back to the apartment, I was exhausted.
I entered the room to find Lucien, two friends, and a big-chested girl with straight, black hair drinking on our dining table.
I motioned to talk to Lucien.
"Anong problema, baby?" he said as he started to play with the buttons on my shirt.
My anger exploded.
Thoughts of my helpless mother, Ms. Chrissy of the Universe, my stranger of a father, and this unbearable parade of Lucien, Lucien, Lucien. It was too much.
"Tumigil ka!" I spat and grabbed my shirt from his hands.
I started to cry.
"My mother is sick. Mamamatay siya at wala akong pera," I cried.
I forgot to add - because of you, Lucien.
His fists started to clench into tight balls.
"At kasalanan ko 'yan?" he screamed.
I could smell the gin on his breath.
His friends laughed like maniacs. Drunk.
"Come here," he said.
I said no.
"Come here," he said.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. I tried to pry myself away from him but he was too strong.
He slammed my body facing the wall. He held me so tightly, his fist encircled the bones on mine. My body froze in shock.
"Para kang droga. Ayoko na sa'yo pero di ako makatiis."
He lifted my skirt up.
I started to beg him to stop.
His friends continued to laugh.
One of them took out his phone.
I heard a flash.
He thrusted inside me.
It was all pain now.
2:30 PM
When I woke up, I was in a pool of sweat in the floor of our apartment. My fists clenched as I descended into the nightmare of real life.
Lucien was nowhere to be found.
His friends were gone, too.
My cabinet was open. The money I kept for my daily cash needs was gone.
My body ached.
I reached for my phone and started to type.
I typed out words to the crime story I should have written months, years ago.
The pain, the sorries, the adultery, the theft of dignity and love.
I typed out with tears streaming down my face.
It starts with a clenched fist and ends with destruction.
You barely notice his tyranny on you.
It grows on you.
You make excuses.
You take ignorance rather than truth.
Until it's too late.
This is my story.
I hit post.
It's 2:30 PM.
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