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blogofloathing · 3 months

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A loud, cheesy anthem plays as an awful stylilized OCWE appears on a black and white TV screen

"Good belated myorning folks, I am your esteemed host! Gillian Barlows Jr! And you are watching the Ocean City Watcher Éire! Hyere to bring you the latest scyoop on the people of our great city! who are they? Why are they? When are they? How do they peel their y'apples? Let's find out nyow!"

A new fangled transition effect plays as Gillian gives an overly exaggerated shocked expression.

Approaching our first interviewee, Gygan Clarks of the Ocean City Watchful Eye, but it seems he isn't particularly excited to see us haha, wonder why.

Our trusty boom man sticks the mic in his face, at which Gygan looks visibly annoyed, sheesh you'd think we killed this guys business or something.

"What do you want Gillian" he spat, frankly I'm offended he would be so rude to a reporter!

My cameraman delivers the question after a discreet go ahead sign waved in his direction

"Look unless you think apples can make coffee taste better I'm not interested," Gygan hisses, and after a short pause mutters "with a pocket knife"

And indeed if the bulge in his pocket isn't due to seeing me, he carries said weapon on him.

Let's move on from this wannabe newsman before he gets violent! You know how those types are.

Grumbling to himself, something about "fuckin' trend hopping fast news pieces of-" haha anyway!

An apple shaped transition plays, and due to formatting issues doesn't properly disappear

•••

Our next guest went up to us herself upon hearing there was a survey, so give it up for.. Simone Chekhov! Of the S.I.T Robotics department—

Somehow interrupting this audio added in post, the girl fires up a seemingly long held rant.

"Well actually it's Robotechtronics there's a very subtle but important difference in the two fields but anyway I made a machine that peels them so precisely the skin dissolves in contact with the air due to being sliced at such a thin micromascopic level that their mololcules are-" a thin homeless girl sticks a thumbs up wildly behind Simone.

The video is suddenly stopped here due to space, a cartoonish image of sad Gillian giving a thumbs down is shown onscreen for a few seconds.

•••

we're sorry to cut this short but our camera ran plumb out of juice trying to record it all haha!

Though this did little to falter her one sided rant, even as we turned our attention away from her

Moving onto the aforementioned hobo (it's good to get a perspective from the less than fortunate.)

"OOO OOO you're gonna ask me a question! Give it here!" She jumps excitedly, the words slamming into our crew much in the same way she physically rammed into my mic man in her overzealousness

The dusty girl, who we made sure didn't touch any of our equipment, had been chittering something inane at Simone when we asked, somehow able to properly talk between each other rather than over.

"I dunno I just chomp em, see?" taking a playful bite out of her sour face, leaving a toothy mark.

... the sounds of crickets chirping has been added

"Agh! Victoria!" She expleted, wiping her face off with her sleeve, "that's gross- you're gross!"

Though Victoria didn't seem too bothered, a sly little grin making its home on her spotted face.

"Hey don't pretend ya didn't like it" she slithered, at which Simone gave her a rather hard smack on the head "and there's more where that came from!" The bespectacled girl tittered haughtily.

A tinny and muffled laugh track plays, as Gillian audibly clicks a tape recorder to start and stop

•••

Moving on from those, shall we say interesting, characters, our boom operator caught wind of some music playing a few blocks down.

And we followed the groovy tunes to their source, coming upon quite the cello fellow!

Who is contentedly playing his instrument, my team having to remind him of the question, "oh I just slice em up with my trusty pocketknife!" Holding it up for a second before going back to ringing out the tunes.

Looks to be the same kinda knife as that.. eh I forgot his name already.

I say someone should definitely toss that guy a quarter, not me though.

Really if he can afford a cello is he actually that poor I mean cmon- ah, I've been instructed by my cameraman to stop here.

A bubble and wave crashing sound effect plays too loudly, with a chintzy fade to black transition

•••

Taking a dip per sé, we find.. someone else to ask.

Attempting to avoid being seen, the oddly slimy fellow is hiding against a wall, but seeing as his clothes aren't the exact shade and texture of bricks, "I, I don't know what an apple is? please leave me alone.." he croaks out in a froggy tone.

"Would you like to try one?" My boom operator chipperly inquires, at which the still unnamed weirdo looks even more terrified of us than before

"N-no I'm good really I.." it trailed off, guess they make hobos different these days, I can't get a read on what this guy might be on the street to beg for.

"Cmon I'll get ya a fresh one" he says again, taking a step closer to it, making the thing jump loudly.

Before running away from my team in a lurch, leaving weird wet slappy footprints in his wake.

Well that was certainly productive, why don't we heed this guys words and move on to another!

A hexagon transition with a splat sound effect, it doesn't even fully segue, cutting halfway through

•••

At the urging of my team, we reluctantly almer over to a goblin for questioning, she seemed to be dancing animatedly.. or maybe boxing with the air?

"Hi! Yes yes Hello! To apples slicing? No no, Gabby is practicing see?" It said, nearly assaulting one of my cameramen, "Gabby is champion of the box!"

a goofy swirl sound effect and then a laugh track

We don't speak creature so I have no idea what any of that meant, I'd say we get out of here before that thing gets aggressive, I've heard the stories of these kinds of monsters being dangerous!

They're lucky they don't have rights or else we'd totally sue them for emotional damages.

a spooky transition effect plays, bats flying across the screen and a very poorly done witches laugh

•••

As we were making our way back to the studio, my mic man caught eye of some kinda hobo living in the alley, I insisted we don't interview something like that but who listens to me around here?

Walking up to her, I'm already less than enthused about her appearance, something in her eyes wasn't like it should be, they seemed to stare directly inside of us unlike anything.

"Hello ma'am how would you say you peel-" my other cameraman began, being cut off by her wheezily trilling poem, "peel? Peeling, skin peeling wallpaper off the wall, apples falling trees cutting"

I.. wow! Okay! That is not at all what any of us were expecting, all our hairs stood violently on end.

Like looking into the den of a wounded predator about to make a strike, protecting its wounds.

She stepped closer to us, gazing through us, it felt as though she saw more than just my skin.

"Apples and oranges" it felt as though she wasn't even talking to us, despite facing our direction.

No one bothered putting a transition effect here, the camera simply cuts right to the next scene

•••

aaaaand one last questioneer today folks! As we were wrapping up and dutifully wiping down and sanitizing our stuff to get all the filth off them, a distracted old guy bumped into us, and sooooo!

"Oh! Eh uh, I mostly just eat cheese" the weirdo said emphatically before forcing us to look at a horrible mass of aged milk madness, before reassuring us that "it's Käse Brezel! The finest in the city! If ya see me come and buy so-" yeah no

Sorry sir I don't even know what language you just spoke there but I can tell it ain't somethin I'm gonna be eating, especially from someone like you

Though my crew seems oddly interested in it, I'll have to show them what real food is like I guess,

gives me an excuse to hang out with those mooks.

anywho, our final stop of the day was a nice little cheese pretzel shop, the finest in the city!

An equally loud and somehow even cheesier little outro theme plays as we fade back onto Gillian

"Well thyank you all for tyuning in this fine after nyoon, we hope we could answer all of your deep byurning questions! As always I am your esteemed host; Gillian Barlows Jr! And you have been watching the Ocean City Watcher Éire, where we catch up the scyoop and throw it to your hyoop! See y'all nyext week with our next Q: how good is the government doing right now? ( A: pyerfect!)"

#original character #original writing #shadows over loathing #west of loathing #wol #writing #oc character #sol #writers on tumblr #creative writing

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lambden · 1 year

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i consistently forget to crosspost my flash fics (because theyre posted anonymously to ao3 so by the time they actually publish they've left my to-do list 😭) but this website is always lacking in yengilla so fuck it here we go! especially poignant for today as this fic contains a terrible hangover, which i currently have. thanks st patrick

originally posted on ao3 here! M (sexual content + nudity but no smut), 4075 words, yennefer/fringilla, modern AU with no content warnings

The entire drive back home, her shoulders shake. Her knees wobble as she storms up to the apartment, and her keys tremble violently in the lock as she tries to force them in at the wrong angle. When she manages to let herself in, she slams the door behind herself so loudly that the whole building seems to shake. The whole world feels unstable, and it’s all Fringilla can do not to shake apart at the seams and crumble into a big heap of clothes and dust.

She launches herself at the fridge, anticipating the remainder of a bottle of wine so as to drown her sorrows. Instead her gaze lands on the meal that she prepared last night. Because, of course, she’d cooked dinner in advance, because it’s Yennefer’s fucking birthday and she’s supposed to go fucking celebrate. How many things can one fuck-up of a person forget?

She dials Yennefer’s number before she even registers pulling out her cell phone. To her best friend’s credit, the line only rings once before Yen picks up. “Hey, Fringilla, what’s—”

“I can’t come out,” Fringilla blabbers. “I can’t— I’m so sorry, I just can’t make it, I— I really badly fucked up a school thing and I think I’m going to lose my scholarship and my uncle won’t pay my tuition and I, um, I know it’s your birthday, I’m really sorry, I will absolutely send you money so you can get drunk tonight but I need to figure something out or else… Or else I’ll…”

“Hang on,” Yen says, firm and steady. Her voice is like a drop in the roaring ocean of panic, but Fringilla still pauses. “Let me… it’s loud in here, alright? Give me a second.”

Even as upset as she is, Fringilla somehow musters up amusement at Yennefer and her ever-busy life. “Where are you?”

“Tissaia took me out for lunch.” It sounds more like she’s at a nightclub, or in the lemur exhibit of the zoo. Then a door shuts as Yennefer likely sequesters herself in the bathroom. Her voice takes on a different quality. “What do you need to figure out?”

Fringilla closes the fridge and miserably drags herself over to the couch. “It’s so stupid,” she whines. “Like, really fucking stupid. I messed up the dates for our final project, and I thought… okay. So, they had a model come to the school so we could sketch them and I missed the first date but there was a make-up session. And I thought the make-up session was today, but it turns out it was last week, and the deadline is today. And if I fail this class, I’m absolutely fucked.”

“So you need… what, a model?” Yen laughs.

Fringilla closes her eyes tightly, blocking out the cruel sound. She only reconnected with Yennefer recently; after boarding school their paths grew apart and their rivalry had dwindled down to nothing. She’s been trying hard to make this friendship work, but she supposes that some of the old wounds are still sore. Or, at least, she’s extra sensitive right now because her life is falling the fuck apart.

Yen coaxes, bringing her back to reality, “Bring your sketchbook out tonight. There’ll be tons of models!”

“Won’t work,” says Fringilla, salty and embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“Because… it was a nude modelling session,” she mutters. “The model was naked.”

She half-expects Yennefer to suggest they go to the strip club, cavalier as anything, but the woman is uncharacteristically quiet. Fringilla can still hear white noise through the call— Yennefer’s heavy breaths, reduced to tinny audio— but otherwise it’s like the line has gone dead.

“Yen—”

“Why don’t you just watch some porn?” Her friend’s voice has taken on an entirely different tone now, one that Fringilla hasn’t heard since they fumbled around a few times. Her blood races even at the word ‘porn’, making her feel juvenile. “There are millions of naked photos online, Fringilla. You could probably even find nudes of the same model.”

“It won’t be the same,” she says, although that is a really good idea. She juggles her phone into her hands and puts the call on speaker, tapping in ‘Francesca Findabair naked photos’. The query returns only a few results, and none of them even look that much like pornography. With a jolt of humiliation, Fringilla realizes she has SafeSearch on. “I need… I need to look at them in person. I can draw from reference, but it’s never the same as seeing the real thing. But… ugh, I guess I can try.”

“That’s the spirit,” Yennefer says, still sounding a little thick. Without warning, she hangs up the call, leaving Fringilla staring at the screen and wondering if it dropped. But Yen doesn’t call her back, so maybe someone else just walked into the bathroom, or maybe Tissaia came to fetch her. After all, it is her birthday. Fringilla should probably bother something else with this.

Her eyes unfocus as she stares at Francesca Findabair’s website. All the photos are incredibly tasteful, and it looks like she does more photography and activism than modelling. The button labelled ‘Contact Me?’ is only one tap away, but Fringilla hesitates.

“I can’t,” she wails to her empty, unsympathetic living room. The dying plant in the corner offers no response. Fringilla swears, setting down her phone and going to heat up dinner. If she’s going to look up random naked people on the internet, she would rather not do it on an empty stomach.

Before she knows it, the microwave has beeped at least six times and she’s deep in a rabbit hole of ethical pornography consumption. Porn has never done much for Fringilla so she’s not sure where to begin to look; even the websites with user-posted content don’t say much about the users consenting to having their likenesses drawn. She looks up nude stock photos and clicks through about four dozen photographs of a lovely woman named Callonetta, but nothing strikes her interest the way a real person would. She considers, idly, using her own reflection— but given that she can’t even draw her own hand without getting frustrated, she thinks it might lead her down a dark path of self-deprecation.

In succession: the microwave beeps a seventh time. Fringilla declares, “Fuck this!” And the buzzer to her apartment rings.

Outside the door is Yennefer, who doesn’t give Fringilla even a millisecond to breathe before heading straight inside. Fringilla doesn’t shriek but it’s a near thing. There’s a dish in the sink from breakfast and her bed is unmade. She hasn’t swept the floors, or wiped the mirrors, and on her phone screen there is still a picture of a blonde naked woman holding a guitar.

Yennefer enters this mess without hesitation or apparent complaint, her gaze sweeping over most of the daily debris. She sees the phone, because of course she does, and she snatches it up, laughing again. Mean and beautiful, just like she was back at Aretuza. “Pretty. Is she your type?”

“No,” Fringilla almost screams, lunging for her phone. Yennefer hands it over easily, grinning as Fringilla swipes away the photos of Callonetta. The woman’s violet gaze is shrewd and too smart for Fringilla’s liking, and under her coat is an extremely tight black dress that looks like she might have been sewn into it. Her birthday dress. Fringilla screws up her face, shaking her head. “Yen, I can’t go out with you. I’m sorry!”

“I know,” huffs Yennefer. “I felt too sorry for you, darling, I couldn’t go out drinking without my favourite girl.” Fringilla’s face heats at that, and she steps away, pocketing her phone. “So I gave it some thought, and I came up with another solution.”

Since she was a child, Fringilla has been extraordinarily bad at accepting help. She understands the benefit of community, but as she was packaged up and sent off to a boarding school for exceptional children, and then failed to make any lasting friendships there, she began to discover that most things really do just work better when you tackle them yourself. She bites her lip now, beginning the motion of shaking her head, psyching herself up for the inevitable fight this will turn into. But the awful, frustrating truth is that she doesn’t want Yennefer to help her, not when Yennefer’s career has gone so perfectly and Fringilla has fought tooth and nail every step of the way. This isn’t her final assignment but it’s important, and she fucked up and she knows it but she still thinks she can handle it herself.

Then Yennefer offers her solution, and Fringilla’s petty irritation evaporates in a heartbeat.

“Yen,” she begins, shakily, as Yennefer takes off her coat. The dress is next; she pulls it up to reveal dark, but not opaque tights stretched over her hips. Under the tights are underwear, under the bust of the dress is nothing. Her breasts spill out easily. Fringilla has, of course, seen her own bare chest in the mirror countless times, but it’s wholly different to see someone else. Her voice softer, more fragile, Fringilla breaks: “Yennefer—”

“Oh, stop it.” Yen actually tsks. Fuck, she’s infuriating. “You need a model, right? So draw me. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

That much is true. Fringilla still hesitates, even as her mind replays the memories of what they had shared together. She hasn’t seen the other woman like this since the night before they graduated. Somehow, she looks better than ever.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” bitches Yen. “Fine. Fine! I’ll just strip down right here, shall I?”

And Yennefer kicks off her heels, and as Fringilla tries very hard to come up with some kind of coherent protest, the tights come off too. They roll down in one smooth motion, pulling Yennefer’s underwear along with them. Her thighs are bare but other than that she’s unshaved; Fringilla is drawn to the sight like a magnet to the earth’s pole. She stares, helplessly, at the thick mess of curls above Yennefer’s cunt.

The microwave beeps.

Fringilla lets out a squeak, and hurries to open and then slam the microwave door shut. When she turns around, mortified, Yennefer is watching her with deep, mean amusement. Her legs are slightly spread, and her hands are on her hips like she knows exactly what she’s doing. She steps away from her pile of clothes, over to Fringilla’s sparsely decorated living room. She starts to descend onto the couch, and all Fringilla can think about over the furious pounding of her heart is that if Yennefer sits on the couch with her bare pussy, Fringilla will never, ever be able to sit there again without getting insanely fucking horny.

She cries, “Wait!” Yennefer straightens up, and looks over— her small breasts bounce with the movement. Fringilla rounds the couch. “Wait, you…”

Yennefer, for the first time in years, seems timid. She doesn’t cover up but something in her posture changes, making her look like she once had, before Aretuza.

“Not on the couch,” Fringilla demands. “This isn’t Titanic, for fuck’s sake. Get… get on the ottoman.”

Yen glances over at the small ottoman, then shoots her an incredulous look. Fringilla huffs, pulling the footstool over so that she has space to sit on it— and carefully not ogling her in the process.

Yennefer sits, stiffly but not properly, her ankles crossed and her thighs and calves pressed tightly together. Like this, it looks like she could be bathing. Not salacious, aside from the nudity, but not vulnerable either.

“Not— okay, it’s… that’s fine, but I’d like it better like this,” Fringilla tries, sitting down on the couch across from Yennefer. She pulls up her feet onto the sofa, plastering her thighs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. Yennefer, slowly but surely, does the same; she lowers her head to tuck her chin out of sight until only her eyes and nose peek out from above her arms, and Fringilla nods fervently. “Yes, that’s perfect. Can you hold that?”

“Yes,” grumbles Yennefer. “You’re missing all the good parts, though.”

“Well…” Fringilla clears her throat. When did her apartment get so fucking hot? “... Not really.”

Her gaze dips down to steal a glance between Yennefer’s parted ankles, where her gorgeous cunt is hidden in shadow. Fringilla swallows a dry mouthful of air, and when she looks back up to meet Yennefer’s gaze, she sees those violet eyes focused right on her.

“I had better grab my sketchbook,” she stutters, unfolding her body. Yennefer doesn’t move a muscle. “Just… hold it right there.”

This isn’t how she had expected to celebrate her birthday.

Fringilla hasn’t moved since she sat down with her sketchbook, except to occasionally shift back and forth on the couch. The sleeves of her college-branded sweater are rolled up to her elbows, and she keeps biting her lip and sticking her tongue out in concentration as her focus dances between her artwork and her model. Yennefer watches her just as closely, taking in the wispy baby hairs above her ears, the lines of her neck, the set of her shoulders.

When she had known Fringilla, they were just girls— teenagers who fooled around and broke into Tissaia’s secret herb storage, but girls nonetheless. Fringilla is a woman now, and as much as Yennefer has been enjoying rekindling their friendship, she has to admit that she doesn’t really know the woman before her at all. Fringilla’s face might have stayed beautifully smooth and free of wrinkles but her eyes are deep and wise, and there’s a measured sadness in her smile.

Yennefer doesn’t know much about what happened after they stopped talking. She knows Fringilla graduated with honours from university and now is in grad school, pursuing art for some fucking reason. It brings Yen no small amount of joy to imagine how much the art degree must piss off Fringilla’s stuffy old uncle. The joy is only slightly tempered by the knowledge that Fringilla never wanted to go into art— unlike all the other bleeding hearts at Aretuza, Fringilla had been a stickler for the rules. She wanted nothing more than for her life to follow a strict and rigid trajectory— the same trajectory that Yennefer has found herself on. It would be amusingly ironic if it wasn’t so depressing.

Fringilla bites her lip again, this time as she stares between Yennefer’s legs. Her soft lead pencil swirls and swirls, scratching the paper rhythmically, and Yennefer realizes Fringilla must be drawing her pubes. Again, that should be funnier than it really is. Her cunt pulses; she’s been wet for at least the last hour, but somehow the idea of Fringilla carefully drawing each hair is enough to send another rush of arousal through her.

Well, truth be told, she’s been wet since back at the restaurant, when she’d called Fringilla from the bathroom and heard her say ‘nude’ in that stupid, stuck-up, prim and proper voice.

Yennefer rolls her neck around, just once— it isn’t even a full rotation, but Fringilla’s eyes snap up to meet hers. Fury courses through her expression, with remorse hot on its heels. “If you need a break, tell me,” she says harshly.

“I’m fine,” mutters Yennefer, burrowing down behind her folded arms again.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Fringilla says, distracted. It’s actually the first time that she’s thanked her, but Yen isn’t going to get pedantic. She’s distracted too— trying to keep her muscles all still is a workout of its own, especially when Fringilla is staring so closely at the outline of her calves and her breasts pressed up against her knees and her bare ankles. This would work a lot better if Fringilla had just tied her down. Still sounding absent, the other woman offers, “I can get you a drink if you’d like?”

“This would have worked better if you’d just tied me down.” Damn her stupid, stupid, impulsive brain. Fringilla’s eyes flash but she doesn’t rise to Yennefer’s offer or chide her for making jokes, just nodding before returning to the sketch. Somehow the lack of a reaction is more annoying than chastising would have been. “We can get drinks after.”

“Right,” Fringilla mutters. “I’ve never pregamed like this before.”

That knocks a surprised laugh out of Yennefer; her pulse quickens as Fringilla’s eyes dip down between her legs when she laughs. Is she moving there? Is it visible? Experimentally, she tightens and then relaxes her cunt.

If Fringilla can see a difference, she doesn’t let it show on her face. “I hope I’m not making everyone wait tonight. I really do appreciate your help with this.”

“It’s fine. We weren’t going out until later anyway, right?”

“Right.” Fringilla clears her throat. “Did you invite anyone special?”

Rather than pointing out that she’s spending her afternoon sitting naked in a special someone’s tiny apartment so that they can draw her naked, Yennefer changes the subject: “Do you remember that one time we snuck out to that bar down by Tor Lara?”

Fringilla smiles, and it is radiant. “Yeah. We were all counting on Triss’ ID to get us in, even though none of us looked like her at all.”

“Yes! And poor Triss only wanted to order fries, but we told the bartender it was her birthday and he brought over those godawful shots—”

“Oh, those were terrible—”

“And do you remember Glacella dancing?”

“I remember having to carry her out,” deadpans Fringilla. “Although, granted, she wasn’t as bad as Sabrina! Remember how she threw up in the bathroom?”

“’Course. I remember her throwing up all over one of the Tor Lara boys’ pricks!”

“That is not true,” Fringilla actually gasps. Yennefer laughs; she can’t help it. “None of us were cool enough at Aretuza to actually hook up with anyone.”

“Well,” drawls Yen. “That’s not accurate. We were pretty cool.”

“We were the lamest of all,” laments Fringilla. Despite her whining, she’s obviously embarrassed and pleased by the memory— Yen watches her blush and hide a smile. “We had no idea what we were in for.”

Rather than properly acknowledge that sobering thought, Yennefer cranes her neck to try to sneak a glance at the drawing. Fringilla angles the sketchbook away, and she sighs. “C’mon, I can’t even take a peek?”

“Alright,” Fringilla relents. With obvious hesitation, she turns it around to reveal her work. Yennefer’s anticipation dies in her throat as she stares blankly at the figure on the page.

It’s her, but it isn’t— it’s her as she was, back in high school. Sure, her posture looks the same as it does now, and her jaw is even and symmetrical, but Fringilla has captured none of her adult beauty and all of her inner vulnerability. Curled around herself like this, she looks defensive.

“You’re going to get a great grade,” Yennefer says, the words ashen on her tongue. I hate it. “Is that really how you see me?”

“No,” Fringilla says quickly. “I… I wanted to capture… I wanted to put you in a different light.” Her face twists horribly. “You don’t like it?”

I fucking hate it. “It makes me… I look so sad,” Yennefer says. “So, I suppose it’s very good art. But I can’t help but wish that you saw me, um…”

“I could draw a pin-up,” offers Fringilla. “Really, it might even be better— this is only a first draft!” Her gaze flicks to her watch. They almost certainly don’t have time.

“Fringilla,” Yennefer says, heavy and steady. She lies through her teeth, “I think you nailed it.”

Never in her life has Fringilla been this hungover. She practically crawls to the kitchen to grab herself water, noting with distaste the leftover dishes from yesterday and the clothes strewn about her apartment from last night. It’s a wonder she had the good sense to pull on pyjamas, let alone that she’d made it safely into her own bed.

She doesn’t regret it, although right now the pounding ache in her head begs to differ. It had been fun to meet Yennefer’s new friends, and reconnect with their mutual ones— and they were drinking not only to celebrate Yennefer’s birthday, but to celebrate Fringilla not failing her class. She had scanned and sent in the drawing of Yennefer yesterday with a signed consent form they’d drawn up together, and although she hasn’t checked her email she’s sure that her professor will find it as inspiring as she does.

The thought of Yennefer’s disappointed face flashes across her mind. Then another roiling wave of nausea crashes through her whole body, and Fringilla clings to the edge of the sink, sighing. She literally does not have the capacity to think about Yennefer’s reaction to her nude drawing right now. It’s all she can do to not die of embarrassment thinking about how drunk she’d been last night.

She would love to blame it all on Sabrina, since the blonde had been overly generous and eager to get everyone on her level, but… by the end of the night, Fringilla had been the one begging to make future plans with the others after consuming enough drinks to lose count.

Her doorbell buzzes, and the noise is agonising. Fringilla croaks to the mystery visitor, “Absolutely fucking not.” They can come back later, when she’s a human person and not a stack of bad decisions in a sweaty, smelly sack of skin.

The buzzer rings again. “Fucking fuck.”

Standing outside her door is, impossibly, again, Yennefer. Fringilla doesn’t fully open the door this time, too busy calculating the math in her head. They had been out drinking until three in the morning, and she hadn’t even been the last to leave. According to her traitorous watch, it is eight in the fucking morning. That leaves exactly five hours for Yennefer to make herself beautiful again, which somehow she has, and force herself upright, and, for some fucking reason, return here.

Yennefer pushes past her without saying a word. She’s wearing the same heels as last night, and the same coat— her tights are missing, but she’s otherwise flawless. Fringilla’s head swims, and she groans, “Is this going to be a regular occurrence?”

“I just think you could do better.”

“Better?” Fringilla stares, rubbing her temples. She feels like she’s doing pretty fucking great, all things considered— there are no large puke stains on her PJs, so she’ll call this a win. “Better than what?”

Yennefer pushes the door shut beside them, and unbuckles her coat. She removes it, carefully moving to hang it on the coat rack— Fringilla’s coat should be hung up there too, except she must have thrown it somewhere else last night when she stumbled home. She would take a look for it right now, except she’s got more pressing concerns. Like all the air seems to have left the room, and her heart is going a mile a minute. And Yennefer is completely naked under her coat.

“I,” Fringilla begins. Her gaze dips down to Yennefer’s clean, bare breasts. She catches a whiff of the woman’s signature perfume, and she loses her next thought.

Yennefer, unaffected and unbothered, walks over to the ottoman that she had posed on so diligently last night. She doesn’t say a word, just haughtily staring down her nose at Fringilla from across the apartment— so maybe unbothered isn’t exactly true. She sits, folding her ankles primly.

“Yennefer,” begs Fringilla thickly. “I am so hungover.”

“Show me how you see me,” demands Yen.

“What the fuck,” she mutters, and then, when Yennefer doesn’t move at all, her small breasts heaving indignantly as she waits for Fringilla to join her; “fine, fine, you insane woman, fuck. Fine!”

Her sketchbook is right where she left it, and her pencils are still on the table. Fringilla pads over to sit on the couch in the very same spot, and flips to a new page. Yesterday, Yennefer had been static, dignified— a perfect model. Now her shoulders rise and fall, as though she’s nervous to be portrayed. There’s even a slight affect to her voice: “How do you want me?” If she was anyone else, Fringilla would accuse her of being worried.

She takes a deep breath, setting the sketchbook down on the couch beside her. Fringilla reaches up and begins to unbutton her pyjamas, grumbling, “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”

#my writing #yengilla fic #yengilla #fringilla fic #flash fic challenge #now to write the next one before my hangover consumes me <3

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ziskeyt · 1 year

Text

hmmmm it looks like both of my mics are bullshit for recording me talking long-form. Absolutely ridiculous. Sorry i talk softly, but i'm not going to start yelling to be consistently captured. I am incredibly annoyed that the better microphone goes in and out with my audio, and the shitty microphone has it consistently, but consistently tinny and shitty.

better microphone is like: if you want to talk at a normal volume you have to make out with the microphone head for me to capture you properly

#ziv is annoyed #i'm not making a video with either of these audio captures cause they both suck #i'll have to get a headset with a good microphone i think

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thepotentialof2007 · 3 years

Video

Drivers literal Golden Asses; F1TV already paying for itself

#sam collins #f1 #24k posteriors #solid gold bottoms #something else jumped out #lewis's unprotected HAMs #mercedes amg f1 #dares give #lewis hamilton #the unheatshielded seat of a peasant #imola #2020 #sorry bout the tinny audio #sam's actually got a lovely voice

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problematicwelshman · 5 years

Video

vimeo

Michael Sheen on Late Night With Seth Meyers, September 11th, 2019.

EDIT 9.14.19: PLEASE MESSAGE ME OFF ANON FOR A LINK TO WATCH.

#michael sheen #prodigal son #good omens #late night #tv #nbc #appearances #late night with seth meyers #mine #sorry about the audio #it's v tinny

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3wisellamas · 3 years

Text

Giant Sweet Cap’n Cakes Headcanon Masterpost!

(Fun fact, I thought most of these up while on one REALLY long hike. ^^; You can tell I fell for these three pretty hard.)

Music:

-I like the idea that, while the three all share a love of hip hop, glitch hop, electronic music in general, and a little lo-fi for chill times, they all have different tastes outside of those. (Meaning if you pass them the aux cord, they WILL argue!)

-Sweet's actually the biggest audiophile of the group, with by far the most eclectic tastes; he will literally put together playlists that go from dubstep to heavy metal to classical to rap to vaporwave to even country. The others don't really get it, but they're cool with whatever he puts on, and learn a lot of new music from him!

-He also owns an electric guitar, which he just plugs into himself to use as an amp and plays early in the morning to wake the others up if needed (he's the early riser and the other two are night owls...)

-Cap'n's definitely got a more narrow focus than the other two; he likes rap and also R&B, jazz, and even a little swing/electro swing. He's also been caught more than once listening to cheesy romantic pop songs, claiming he's just into them for their potential madamoizel-attracting uses but really he's just a sappy romantic.

-He can also rap, very well in fact, and gets Sweet to beatbox while he freestyles.

-Heck, he's just got a good singing voice in general, helped by having a built-in autotune, and dominates at karaoke!

-K_K also has a really broad range, but stays more towards the electronic end of the spectrum -- melodic dubstep, synthpop, disco, trance, chiptune, DnB, even occasionally puts on straight-up ambient spa music to chill out to (the only genre the other two will NOT tolerate.)

-K_K has also, in the past, set up entire mini-raves just by themselves, complete with glowsticks and everything, while Cap'n and Sweet were out doing whatever. They were...not pleased, when they got back, mostly because they weren't invited. All three got to have one together eventually though.

-Physical media is king in their shop; if it's not on a CD, cassette tape, or a vinyl record (or an 8-track, though they have to dig out their old player for it), they will refuse to play it, and might even ask you to leave. "MP3" is an extremely dirty word to them.

-(In fact, they don't get along too well with the MP3 player-headed robots elsewhere in the city.)

-They are indeed always listening to music on physical media as well -- K_K and Cap'n are their own CD players (though Cap'n's one of those models that's also got a built-in FM radio), while Sweet has a straight-up Walkman.

-(He's also the group's cassette champion, claiming his media of choice is superior to CDs because you can record music on BOTH sides of the tape! The other two just don't have the heart to point out that each side only holds half as much music as a CD, and you don't even have to rewind those...)

-Jury's still out on Hit Clips. Cap'n and Sweet think they're just toys, but K_K genuinely collects and appreciates them and treats them like actual music (it helps that they are only around four seconds long!)

-Believe it or not, the headphones are only decoration, all three actually just...listen to their music entirely within their own heads, though they can also switch to playing it externally on their speakers as well. Perks of being robots! Though, sometimes K_K has his internal volume up too high, and misses things that other people say because of it.

-Sweet also has an input port, and connects himself to his turntable to act as the speakers! The other two are WAY too embarrassed to ask if they can use it as well.

-Sweet can play almost any instrument you throw at him, as long as it's not a woodwind (Surprisingly, he can do brass, since those work on vibration rather than air!). He prefers his guitar or violin when he isn't spinning records on his turntable. Where the other two just enjoy music, he's the actual trained musician.

Voice headcanons:

-Sweet: Kind of deep, bass-y, lots of reverb, a slight tinny audio distortion to it like a low-quality recording that becomes much more pronounced when he gets upset or starts shouting. And since he's a speaker, you can literally feel the vibrations he makes when he's speaking!

-Cap'n: Scout from TF2. I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot get that out of my head for him. XD However, he's actually putting that voice on as an "accent" of sorts, his real voice is actually super autotune-y like K_K's, and it comes out whenever he gets flustered, his pitch only getting higher and higher as it gets worse...

-K_K: Pure autotune, he can just do whatever the hell he wants with his voice -- pitch, tone, whatever, and while he tends to keep it a little higher he can and does change it to fit his mood! He often has a completely different voice every day, but the others are used to it. He also just straight-up vocalizes sound effects (like, the kind that make you go "How did you just make that sound with your mouth?!") and can mimic other people perfectly (though the slight mechanical distortion does give it away). There are absolutely no rules when it comes to K_K's voice.

-They harmonize perfectly whenever they sing together!

Sweet:

-I like to think Sweet's actually the brains of the group; like, not SMART, he just holds their one collective braincell most often. He does any technical work when they're building stuff, like soldering circuits or the occasional programming, and even handles a lot of the actual business operations and pays the bills. The other two also like to follow his lead when it comes to rebellion plans, even if he’s not the official leader.

-That said, though? It's balanced out by him being rather hotheaded and having the shortest temper by a lot. There are REASONS why he's not usually out selling bagels with the others -- he's unfortunately prone to some more "extreme" sales tactics, like hurling half their stock at random passersby until they finally agree to buy some. On the plus side, he's always the first to step up to defend the gang from anything that dares to harm them, and is always on guard.

-He can also hold a heck of a grudge -- don't ever get on his bad side! Cap'n and K_K are mostly immune to this though, if he gets upset with them he works through it by the end of the day. It helps that they can all hug it out.

-He's a bit of a perfectionist, often working overtime to try and get everything they build exactly right. He can get really frustrated when things don't work out the way he plans, or when he can't make sense of a problem, or when Cap'n and K_K are goofing off instead of doing their part, and needs to go blast some loud music and blow off steam.

-He does have a really tough time keeping his balance, since his head is a bit heavier than the rest of his body, but he takes tripping over his own feet constantly in stride. The biggest problem he has is with dancing -- while he'll join in with the others on occasion, he can't match their more acrobatic moves and sticks more to actually PLAYING the music they're dancing to.

-He's also really, really unlucky, just in general. He actually considers the other two his good luck charms, since they help him out whenever he trips or gets into a bad spot!

-He's the fashionista of the group, surprisingly. It's difficult for him to find clothes that fit his body, so he tends to get a little creative with it and has a whole closet full of different stuff! And since Cap'n is roughly the same size they'll occasionally swap jackets.

Cap’n:

-Cap'n actually has managed to score a handful of dates with girls in the past! However, NONE of them went well, and only one actually made it to the second date (only to break up right in the middle of it), so he always ends up returning home heartbroken and in tears. Sweet and K_K, by this point just ready for it whenever they hear that he's going out that night, always dry him off before he shorts himself out, take him to bed and cuddle with him (platonically, I don't see them as brothers but I also don't see them as having that conversation until Cap'n's ready, which he clearly is NOT), remind him that it doesn't hurt forever and he isn't unlovable and that he'll find someone eventually, etc.

-They have sat him down multiple times to try and gently suggest to Cap'n that he might just not be into women? And that he’s actually turning them off by trying so hard? To which he's always just like "No, of course not. I'm straight. Love the ladies. Totally. Oh no they didn't catch me checkin' out that one dude earlier did they? Is that what this is about?!"

-(Basically, Cap'n is just a hopeless romantic in love with the idea of being in love, but is absolutely clueless as to how it works or what he actually wants, and his best buds are always there to catch him when he falls. ;v; )

-The glasses are prescription -- he's SUPER nearsighted, a hardware glitch he refuses to fix. Sometimes when he's working on something close up he'll take them off, panicking when he can't find them afterwards, only to have the others point out that they're just on his head. He’s also got non-tinted glasses, but you will not catch him DEAD wearing those unless it’s an absolute emergency.

-This dude is SUPREMELY insecure with himself. Like, his rather questionable fixation on romance aside, he basically runs off of others' validation, the "cool" persona he's spent much of his life building up being how he hides the fact that he isn't really sure who he is, or what he wants to do with his life, or what he's even good for -- the others have learned to check on him now and then whenever he hides away in the back of the shop, since he can slip into some pretty dark places when left alone to sulk. It took a long time for him to open up even to them to share his feelings, and sometimes still has doubts about whether they or anyone else really care about him as more than just The Smooth One...

-He's the only one of the three to actually enjoy the occasional silence, especially when he's trying to think, or whenever he's upset. So, his headphones also serve a dual purpose -- they're noise-cancelling!

-He's the video guy, carrying around a small camcorder and constantly trying to record the group's activities, to put together into music videos! He also just likes to record himself doing stupid stunts for posterity, though K_K just takes these and makes (affectionate) blooper reels.

-Cap'n is not his real name, similar to K_K. However, unlike K_K, he refuses to say what it is, just that it's embarrassing.

K_K:

-K_K has a bad habit of just completely zoning out when he gets into his music, getting completely lost in the groove and needing to be pulled back to reality. It's not a bad thing during jam sessions, but at work, or in the middle of a battle...not so much.

-He kind of needs to have some kind of music going at all times -- silence drives him absolutely CRAZY! Though, because he gets distracted by his own music, he then misses out on entire conversations, only tuning back in towards the end. Sometimes the other two have to repeat or summarize what they just said for him.

-He knows sign language, and taught the others to use it. They're able to communicate reasonably well no matter how loud their shop gets, or on days when K_K isn't able to form words properly (he's just shy, and even when he isn't he gets tongue-tied a LOT).

-He's easily the best dancer of the three, and uses his extendable body to get really creative with his moves! He even knows a little ballroom, somehow, which he'll pull out sometimes to make the others laugh.

-(Seriously, K_K CANNOT stand to see Sweet or Cap'n not smiling. He'll do anything to keep the group's spirits up, usually cracking jokes during a scrap project or doing little favors, and they appreciate all his efforts!)

-K_K has the WORST sleep cycle, ever. If you let him, he will stay up all night working or partying, finally going to bed at 6AM, and will then sleep until 6PM if the others don't wake him up at some point. If they know he was up really late they'll let him sleep in a little, but he's often pretty sleep-deprived and running solely on sugar and caffeine, which doesn't help his natural loopiness.

-He is a VERY physical guy. Seriously, he will just scoop up and hold Sweet or Cap'n like a cat every five minutes; at first they were just like "Oh. Okay. We're hugging now I guess," but after a while they got more used to it and even anticipate when K_K is going to do it. And he also initiates tons of snuggles and gives piggyback rides whenever one of his bandmates (usually Sweet) requests.

-K_K actually scrapbooks, collecting pictures and little mementos of places he and the others have gone and things they've done. After the library fountain is sealed, he pulls them out to show everyone else from Cyber City and reminisce about home.

-It's very hard to make K_K angry, since he tends to stay super chill and brushes off almost everything. But, on those very, very rare occasions when something does get under his metal outer casing, he'll go full-on silent treatment, not speaking to anyone for up to a week as he sulks and stomps around the junk shop, and even refuses to play any music! And no amount of sweets or hugs or cheering up will bring him out of it, either; the other two have learned to just wait him out and let him have his space, letting him come to them when he's finally ready to talk about it.

Misc:

-Though all three love everything sweet, K_K's the only one who really goes overboard with it, making whole meals out of candy. Sweet, ironically enough, actually prefers more salty/savory snacks, while the less is said about Cap'n's hot sauce addiction, the better.

-Okay, actually, I will say more about it. Cap'n loves spicy food in general, and literally drinks tabasco sauce right from the bottle. However, he's got a bad habit of daring himself to eat hotter and hotter stuff, ESPECIALLY if someone is watching, and can easily get in WAY over his head before begging for milk.

-They also all totally drink battery acid like Queen.

-Heck, being both Darkners and robots, they can really eat literally anything. Normal food, milk, oil, batteries, gallons of pure sugar, toothpaste, moss, glitter (NEVER let K_K get hold of any though, he gets lost in the sauce), broken glass, etc, and of course their own deep-fried CDs. Only thing they can't do is water, since, you know, robots.

-With a lot of the aesthetics of Cyber City being close to turn-of-the millennium and early 2000s (CDs and boomboxes, popup ads, wired mice, Queen theorized to be one of those see-through iMacs, EVERYTHING about Spamton), I like the idea that the boys DO NOT have smartphones, and if you handed them one they'd have no clue how to use it or what to do with it. But they do have cell phones: Sweet's got an old flip phone covered in stickers (courtesy of K_K), Cap'n splurged for one of those that slide open and with a camera (he set his background to a tiny, grainy photo of the three of them!), and K_K has one of those indestructible Nokia bricks, that Sweet got him after he kept breaking all his other ones. They can all text, but that's about as high-tech as they get.

-Same with tablets or newer computers in general, they might share one tiny netbook at most. Cap’n never remembers to log out of his Dark World dating profile, so the others will snoop or post embarrassing things to it.

-They're really, really durable, even without milk -- they're made of 90s plastic and electronics, so it takes a LOT to take one of them down! Plus, they regularly repair each other back at the shop (it took a LONG time for them to gain enough trust to physically open and work on each other), so as long as at least one's left to drag the other two to safety they'll be just fine.

-However, if they get splashed with water, caught in the rain, or worse, drowned, they will short out, or shut down on the spot to prevent damage. Once they completely dry out, though, they'll start right back up, no worse for wear. When only one of them gets waterlogged the other two will break out the hair dryers to dry them out faster, or even pop them into the oven in a pan of rice like an iPod that got dropped in the toilet...

Finally, backstory?

-Cap'n and K_K met first -- maybe both as new recruits to another, much less savory gang of music equipment robots, and bonded as a result of being put upon by the more established members (Cap'n probably even had to defend K_K more than once when his inattentiveness got him into trouble!) But, they both had enough one day, and decided to break off and form their own thing, making music and selling CD bagels to support themselves.

-Sweet, meanwhile, has the complete opposite background, coming from a rich and important family of musicians in Cyber City who regularly entertained Queen in her mansion (hence why he always used to get sweets from her!) But, he was kind of the black sheep, preferring his own style of music, and decided to strike out on his own as a street musician instead.

-They met when Cap'n and K_K accidentally set up to sell bagels on Sweet's usual corner, and he battled them to reclaim his turf. But, they were evenly-matched (even two-to-one; Sweet's definitely the strongest of the trio!), and impressed each other with both their fighting and musical skills, so Sweet decided to join their tiny group, and thus Sweet Cap'n Cakes was formed.

-After the whole situation with Queen is resolved, SCC turns their rebellion into an anti-DRM kind of thing? Nobody can hold back the music, man!

#deltarune #sweet cap'n cakes #deltarune sweet #deltarune cap'n #deltarune k_k #sweet #cap'n #k_k #emheadcanons

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

The Interview

The Interview: A Pepperony Fanfic

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 983

Pairing: Pepper Potts x Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warnings: covid lockdown, celebrities singing to you, bad song lyrics(? I guess that’s subjective).

Synopsis: You are a successful musician in a relationship with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. During lockdown you make an album to raise money for people struggling to pay bills and have a spot on a late-night show to promote it. During the song, you have an unexpected backup singer.

A/N: Didn’t think I’d actually write a lockdown fic, but here we are. I saw Alanis Morissette on Jimmy Fallon singing and her daughter being there a while back and thought it was the cutest thing ever. Lately, the idea of that kind of thing happening with a less conventional family started talking to me so I quickly wrote it out. I’m not a lyricist sadly - sorry about that. I kind of like this relationship dynamic and since writing this very short fic out I keep getting ideas about how they started in the first place. So who knows, when I have some time I might write it. The talk show host is not a specific Jimmy, just thought it was funny to name him that because that’s what they’re named right?

The Interview

Your home studio had been set up - both Pepper and Tony had worked really hard to make sure it wouldn’t be just another one of those interviews done at home on a phone. You had been working hard on your music during the lockdown and the album you’d made had been selling well. Given the relationship you had, it wasn’t like you needed the money, so all the profits were going straight into funds to help other people wait out the whole lockdown.

You were proud of what you were doing and you wanted to sound good. You wanted the people who tuned in to the late-night talk show to see you to get a good version of the song, not some tinny through the speaker of a phone version.

Thankfully the people you’d chosen to spend your life with were exceptionally good at this kind of thing.

Tony was on the phone with the producers of the show as he multitasked fixing the audio and wiring while fixing the levels on the mixing table. You sat at the piano singing notes for him and playing small amounts until he seemed satisfied.

“I think that lighting is good,” Pepper said, adjusting the light and turning on the camera. “We’ll get out of your hair for the performance.”

“Thank you both,” you said kissing them and putting the headpiece in.

“We’ll be watching with madam secretary, on the monitor” Pepper said as Tony double-checked the camera.

“What would I do without you both?” You asked.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be starving in the gutter,” Tony teased, rolling his eyes. “Break a leg, honey.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“Got a good team with you there,” the producer said when Tony and Pepper had left the studio.

“Yeah, I’m very blessed,” you agreed.

“Well, the show’s a little different these days, we just record the bits separately. So whenever you’re ready go, and then Jimmy will chime in with the questions when you’re done. He’ll record the intro later.”

“Great,” you said. “Thank you.”

You cleared your throat and began to play.

“Before you,

I was running on all cylinders,

Before you,

I never stopped to smell the roses.

My life was spinning in all directions,

Never slowing, never stopping, never taking time.”

The door opened and little footsteps came tapping in. You looked over to see Morgan running for you. You smiled at her but didn’t break singing.

“You were the light at the end of the tunnel,

You were my knight in red and gold armor,

I never knew that you were everything I need,

You were everything I need.”

Morgan reached the chair and you leaned down and scooped her up with one hand as you continued to play with the other.

“Mama, mama,” she babbled. “You sing.”

“That’s right,” you said and tapped a headset that was sitting on top of the piano.

“Before you,” you continued to sing, as Morgan grabbed the headset and put it on. She started to sway to the music and you played the piano around her as she sat perched on your knee.

“I thought that one and one was the equation,

Before you,

I thought that love was in short supply.

My life was all about avoiding,

Never slowing, never stopping, never settling down.”

The door opened again and Pepper quickly ducked inside. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

You laughed through the lyrics and shook your head as Morgan began tapping your hands as you played the piano.

“You were the home I never knew I wanted,

You were the queen that came to rule my kingdom,

I never knew that you were everything I need,

You were everything I need.”

“Mommy’s the queen,” Morgan said, as she bounced on your lap.

“That’s right,” you said and kissed the top of her head before returning to singing.

Pepper knelt on the ground out of view of the camera and began trying to coax Morgan off your lap. Your daughter was having a little too much fun joining in with the song to listen to mommy.

“No, mommy,” she said, shaking her head and wiggling on your lap.

“Before you,” you sang, looking down at Morgan.

“I didn’t believe in family,

Before you,

I was missing a piece of me.”

The door opened again and this time Tony came through. He had a juice pop in his hand and he crept over, holding it out to Morgan.

“You are the heart beating inside me,

You are the missing piece of my soul,”

“Me!” Morgan said, bouncing up and down.

“Morgan, I never knew you were everything I need.

You were everything I need.”

Morgan squealed and pushed her head back to kiss your chin. “Love you, mama,” she said.

“Love you too, bub,” you said as you played the last little piece of the outro.

“Aw, you stopped,” Morgan said.

“Is that okay?” You asked.

“Mmm yeah, daddy has juice pops,” she said and wiggled off your lap and ran over to Tony.

You started laughing and your laughter was joined by Jimmy the host of the show you’d just played for, as he clapped and said your name. “That was amazing,” he said. “I liked your backing singer.”

“She’s the best one I ever had,” you said. “I’m very lucky.”

“She calls you mama?” Jimmy asked.

“Yep and Pepper is mommy,” you said. “We decided that that would be a good way to do it when Pepper was pregnant.”

“It’s an interesting family situation you have going on,” Jimmy said. “But from the sounds of the song, you’re all making it work.”

“I have never been happier,” you said, looking over at Pepper, Tony, and Morgan who were all standing by the door. Morgan sucking on the juice pop that Tony had bribed her with. “Can’t complain about being too loved,” you said. “Now can you?”

#pepper potts #tony stark #pepperony #pepper potts x tony stark x reader #pepperony x reader #tony stark x reader #pepper potts x reader #pepper potts x tony stark #iron man #iron man fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #morgan stark #the interview

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by-mana · 2 years

Photo

From Three Hundred Lives, part 2

For the MDZS 2021 Language Event

@mdzs-language-fest

The longest love poem in the world is 291 stanzas (2900 lines) long. It is called Marína and was written in 1844 by Slovak author Andrej Sládkovič (sometimes also called Andrej Braxatoris). Official translations exist in German, Polish, Hungarian and French. There are a scattered unofficial translations in English, mostly consisting of a number of blog posts, now joined by these few stanzas by Yours Truly.

The poem speaks about the author's deep, but unfulfilled love for the titular Marína, who he learned was to marry someone else. It is a love most tragic, yet sweet and gentle, like the caress of the breeze against the grass of the pastures.

#41 Možno mi tvojich úst sa odrieknuť, možno mi ruky nedostať, možno mi v diaľky žiaľne utieknuť, možno mi nemilým ostať, možno mi ústam smädom umierať, možno mi žialiť v samote, možno mi život v púšťach zavierať, možno mi nežiť v živote, možno mi seba samého zhubiť! - nemožno mi ťa neľúbiť! -

Marína #41.mp3 Note: Tthere was supposed to be an audio embeded in the post, but I couldn't get it to work, so this link will have to suffice. Please don't steal! (Yes it's me, with my own voice, reading it.) There will be one gifset and a drabble posted every day. For some of the gifs I had to use the smaller ones because tumblr, apparently. Let me know if you want the full sized ones in a separate post after the event.

#41. To Unlove You Able I Am Not!

The burial mounds were quiet as they walked.

The burial mounds were always quiet, like only a place so sodden with death could be. The silent, voiceless whispers of lost souls were the only not-noise surrounding them. Wei Wuxian would likely never cease to be amazed that such a place could still harbor life. Or maybe that was exactly why. Life could after all only exist alongside death. Without it there was no rebirth, no beginning was without an end. Perhaps it was this simple, terrifying fact that made so many chase after the dream of immortality.

Maybe it was this morbid, yet inherent fascination with decay innate to every person born from a womb why Lan Zhan still came.

The two weeping willows at the border of this barren place twisted and twined around each other like the grotesque semblance of a gate. He stopped. Lan Zhan did too. He would go on in a few moments, like he always did. He could have went on now too without ever halting, but Wei Wuxian knew he wouldn't. They always did this game, this dance, this exchange of give and take, where Wei Wuxian was the one who took and Lan Zhan the one who gave.

"Wei Ying," he said and it sounded like "Please" and it sounded like "Sorry".

He didn't ask him to go to Gusu anymore. Wei Wuxian pretended it didn't hurt.

Not that he could go.

If not before, certainly not now, or likely ever again.

Not in this life.

Not after everything.

Not the way they were.

Wei Ying met his eyes. Those sad, longing eyes, a mirror of his own.

"You shouldn't come here anymore, Lan Zhan," he said, because it was the truth.

"I don't mind," he quickly added when those beautiful eyes turned even sadder. "I'm always happy to see you. You're the only light in this darkness. But this is no way for Hanguang-jun to be."

It was one thing that disgraced and dishonored Wei Wuxian with nothing to lose let himself fall in one moment of desperate weakness. Lan Wangji, the second young master of Gusu Lan, the one who brought light to so many and deserved the world for it should not lower himself to a mere affair.

"What about you?" Yet his wonderful Lan Zhan still asked, as if Wei Wuxian mattered at all.

"Me?" Wei Ying laughed, tinny, without humor. "I have nothing left to give, Lan Zhan. Everything is gone."

Honorless in the eyes of the world, impure and immoral, tainted by evil. Even the last remnants of his innocence were gone now, his own defiled self judging him. At least he got to chose whom to lose it to.

"I'm glad it was you," he confessed. He had wanted it to be Lan Zhan, selfishly, even if it would inevitably stain that glowing white of Lan Zhan's virtue.

He had never dared to ask for it, yet it still happened. The both of them wanted to fall. The difference was Lan Zhan would have to get up, rise from the cold ground where Wei Wuxian would remain.

He turned to Lan Zhan for one last time and caught his lover regarding him with one of those devastated, longing gazes.

He swallowed. "You could…"

Wei Wuxian didn't let him finish.

"Lan Zhan!" The pretty lips shut close, pressed into a tight line. "How could I go? How could I leave them?!"

Lan Zhan didn't respond, eyes closed in despondence. Wei Wuxian ignored the stab in his chest and let his heart bleed, like it had been bleeding for months without end.

"Tell me a way to save them and I'll do it," he said in a calmer voice, yet still firm. "The seal, the wicked path, my life, I'll surrender it all to you. All you have to do is tell me how."

Lan Zhan didn't speak.

For a while there was nothing but silence.

"You should go," Wei Ying finally said, eyes trained on the dead ground. "They'll start missing you soon."

For a heartbeat he thought Lan Zhan would refuse.

"Mn." He nodded in the end and went on at last.

All Wei Wuxian could do was watch him go, as he stayed.

#mdzsmultilingual21 #poem #translation #gifset #slovak #drabble #by mana #wangxian #cql/mdzs #marina

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supernaturalinguist · 2 years

Text

gn!oc (selah) x danny johnson as jed olsen - video store meet cute

Going to be using this as a springboard to post more Danny Johnson (Ghostface) x OC content, maybe do imagines or headcanons since I like writing him.

warnings: none.

A tinny rendition of a Haydn piano piece blared off the tape deck of Vaughn's Discount Music and Video, the same classical tape that seemed to have been on repeat for at least an hour already--or at least, had been since Selah had made their way inside the shop an hour ago. They'd been wading through crates of mystery VHSes and bargain cassettes for that amount of time, trying to find something worthwhile to add to their collection--they'd heard from a friend that this junky-looking store had a surprising amount of foreign cinema, or generally weird stuff that no other video store had on account that it wasn't awfully high quality, so pirate films and ripped tapes found their way into the stock more often. To their chagrin, so far they'd found a whole lot of nothing. Mostly big band and crooners in the cassettes, or the same sort of classical music stuff that people got for Christmas only to re-gift it after the holiday. Kids tapes, too, "Day At The Aquarium" sort-of audio dramas that kids got a listen or two out of, having fun vicariously through the voice actors and then tossing in the "donate to Goodwill" pile.

The VHSes weren't a lot better--even some low-budget horror schlock released by a no name would have been a sight for sore eyes. Who needs a box set of The Monkees' TV show? they asked themself, and realized apparently no one, since it was dying a slow death under the piles of other equally shit tapes.

They scoffed under their breath, cursed the name of the guy who'd recommended them this place, and moved on to the newer releases. Beige tiling sticky under their sneakers, they curved into an aisle--finding out too late it was the Rom-Com section, and just as hastily U-Turning out. For a place this small, it felt like a maze what with all the aisles connecting to each other--a space-saving and economical maze, for sure, but a maze none the less. The fluorescent lights spilled a sick yellow onto the flooring, and with no windows visible from this far inside the strip mall where it was located, they lit the whole place like a fever dream.

Lost in their thoughts and attempting to weave their way around a display without hip-checking it, they turned the corner to the next aisle, and walked face first into a wall.

Well, what they thought was a wall, until said wall stumbled backwards a few steps, and they stumbled forwards a few steps, and the wall put decidedly un-wall-like hands on their shoulders to steady them-- which immediately ripped them from whatever they had been ruminating on.

"Whoa, hey, you alright there?" the human-not-wall asked them once the crisis had been averted, voice evidently concerned.

"I'm fine, I'm really sorry about that, I need to pay more attention to where I'm going." Selah brought a hand to their face to adjust their glasses which had smashed straight into the person's chest.

"Are--are you okay?" they asked in return.

"Don't worry about it." the person said, nonchalantly. "Takes more than that to knock me down."

Selah gave an embarrassed chuckle, and glanced upwards to see who exactly they had walked into.

A man, taller than they were by a head or so, with olive skin and horn-rimmed glasses stood before them--from his outfit, it looked like he'd be better suited to a corporate office than a dingy shop like this one. Blazer slung over one arm, sleeves on the button-down half rolled up like some sort of menswear catalog photo. By the looks of him, not terribly much older than they were. Huh.

"This place is a death trap, honestly," Selah muttered, half to themself.

The man they bumped into gave a laugh in response to that. "And your first time here, I'm guessing." the man quipped.

"What gave it away?"

"I mean, you don't exactly look like you know where you're going. That, and you nearly ran into the display." He gestured to said display that Selah had been so sure they hadn't hip-checked, now wobbling on its flimsy cardboard stand. If they hadn't been embarrassed already, the obvious callout would have done it.

"Vaughn's puts out displays right there pretty often, so I've gotten used to them being there. Kind of a store staple." he finished, gesturing to it with a loose wave of the hand.

"I'll keep that in mind." Selah said, then added. "If I ever come back here."

At this, the man raised an eyebrow. "Not finding what you're looking for?"

Selah chewed on their lip in thought. "Feels like I've walked around this store for a full hour without finding anything good. A friend told me they have a good collection of movies, but..."

The person before them gave a pensive look, and a click of the teeth at their comment. "I know this place and their selection pretty well. Try me, I'll see if I can point out something good for you."

Selah raised their hands in a frantic wave. "Hey--no, I mean, you're probably busy, and I literally just ran full-speed into you. No offense, but I think I've taken enough of your time."

"Really, it's no skin off my back." He crossed his arms, casually, but it looked like he wasn't going to take no for an answer. The back of Selah's neck prickled, but they pushed away the feeling.

"Um. Okay, then. Lead the way." they said, hesitant.

"Right." the man said, and shot them a sharp grin that looked mismatched to his business-casual demeanor, walking out of the aisle. "First, what sort of thing're you looking for?" he asked.

Selah thought for a moment. "Well, what I originally was here for... I like foreign films a lot, Japanese especially. Ideally, I was hoping to maybe find a VHS of Rashomon or Kagemusha, or something?"

"Foreign stuff, huh?" He raised an eyebrow but nodded approvingly. "You're an artsy type? High-brow?"

"Not particularly? I wouldn't consider myself one, at least." Selah hedged. "Just have a varied taste in movies, I guess. How--how about you?"

"I've seen some foreign flicks, yeah. I don't know I'd say that I'm an art film person."

"Really?" Selah asked, intrigued. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you'd enjoy them."

He shrugged. "Appearances can be deceiving. My tastes tend to veer toward horror, actually." Hwe tossed a keen look over his shoulder as they traversed the aisles, as if gauging their response. Selah's face visibly brightened at the comment.

"Oh, really? If that's the case, I can recommend some pretty artsy horror."

"Can you, now? Let's take a little detour then. Horror section first." the man said, and took a hard left, walking quickly towards the back of the store until they reached a wall of shelves clearly labled Horror. Lines of VHS tapes stood on display, bright and dark paper cases creating a staggered mural.

"Now this--this is where Vaughn's selection really shines." the man said, clearly proud: he slipped his glasses further up on his nose, and leaned against one of the sturdier looking shelves. "Old guy's a horror fan too, and puts most of his effort into this section."

"I can tell!" Selah said, immediately leaning down to peek at the variety of tapes, running their fingers over the spines. "I almost don't know where to start."

"Think I can lend a hand with that, if you want."

"I'm open to recommendations, sure." Selah said, but paused. "I prefer to know who's giving them. Maybe put a name to the face?"

The man gave Selah an amused look, like they'd just said an inside joke. "Do you?"

"I mean, only if that's cool with you."

The man paused for a second--just the slightest bit longer than was normal--before he spoke. "Call me Jed."

"Gotcha." Selah ran the name over in their head. "Is it short for anything?"

"Jedediah, obviously." he snarked, stone-faced, and Selah supressed a snort. "Just Jed is fine. You?"

"Selah. Looks like our parents both got hit with the biblical name bug."

"No kidding, huh." Jed ran a hand through his hair, and gave a long suffering sigh. "Back to what really matters, though. Movies. I always tell people to start with the classics. Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween. Any of those ringing a bell?"

Selah chucked him a thumbs-up. "I'm more for the deeper cuts, but I liked them."

"Deeper cuts. Let me think." Jed tapped a finger to his chin. "You said you had recommendations of some artsy and foreign stuff? Let's trade. I give you some of mine, you give me some of yours. If we both know each others'-- well, I suppose that means that we both have good taste. How's that sound?"

"Sounds fine to me." Selah agreed, and went to flip through the stacks. "Do you know Jigoku? Oni-Baba? I don't know if they have them here, but it's Japanese horror." They plucked a VHS from one of the shelves, only to put it back.

"Tell me the premise?"

"I mean, they're both about people getting tormented in hell for their actions, so that part's the same between the two of them."

"Interesting. I'll consider." Jed leaned over, squinting through his horn-rimmed glasses as he pulled a VHS from one of the middle shelves. He brandished it towards Selah. "You might like this one. Serpent and the Rainbow, one of Wes Craven's so-named cult classics."

They took the tape from his hand and after a short read of the summary, nodded as they placed it in a red plastic basket.

"My turn. Akira. Futuristic Japan, mutants, motorcycles?" Selah questioned. "It's animated, but it's for adults."

"Could be interesting." Jed pondered. He crossed behind Selah, tapping one of the other VHSes with a nail.

"Altered States? Maybe Scanners?"

"I loved Scanners." they grinned. "Another compliment to your taste. Have you seen A Clockwork Orange? It's Kubrick, based on the book. I thought the book was better, personally, but it gets pretty weird."

*Ah, yes, definitely a weird one."

The conversation continued for quite a while longer, animatedly, movies being traded back and forth among the buzz of fluorescent lights and droning classical music. The pile of tapes in Selah's basket grew steadily as the minutes went on, and at some point, Jed took out a notebook, jotting down what Selah assumed could only be movie recommendations. When Selah felt they couldn't fit any more cassettes in their basket, they held up a sheepish hand to stop Jed moving towards another tape on the top shelf, tapping on his arm.

"I don't think I have room for any more at this point," they heaved out, dropping the basket on the tile as carefully as they could. "I can't feel my wrist, I've been holding this thing for so long. I think I have to go check these out."

He seemed mildly surprised at the touch, but acquiesced. "Save some for the rest of the customers, I get it."

"Yeah, as much as I would love to keep trading movies recommendations, if I don't stop now I'll end up buying this whole section on accident!" they said, apologetically.

"Of--course, yeah," Jed said. "Sure." He straightened his collar and gave them a lopsided smile.

Selah made to gather their basket, but then seemed to think better of it. Giving Jed a sidelong look for a moment, then reaching inside the backpack slung over their shoulder, they drew out a pad of paper and a pen. Scribbling something quickly, they ripped it out of the notepad and folded it in half.

"Since this was, um, this was a lot of fun. I--it's my handle for AIM. If you want to trade more movie recommendations, I mean. Do you have AIM? If you don't, I can just give you my landline or something, if that's cool, or maybe not--"

Jed took out his wallet, and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a small piece of cardstock. He scribbled something on the back of it, then held it out towards Selah. Printed in neat clear lettering was "Jed Olsen, Journalist, Roseville Gazette," andce on the other was--

"That's my handle. I'm working a lot recently, so I can't guarantee I'll be on all the time. Drop me a message, though, if you like. I'll let you how I liked the movies you told me about."

They took the proffered card, scanning the details with evident interest.

"A news journalist, huh? Wow. I'd love to pick your brain about that sometime."

"I might just let you." the man replied, the sharp smile returning. "I have quite a few stories I'm working on."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled, then!" Selah responded. "I think my parents get the Gazette, actually. I'll see if I can't pick up a few copies they're done with."

"You don't subscribe yourself?" Jed asked, raising a brow.

"Ah, well--" Selah fumbled for the words. "Parents aren't doing so great right now, so I moved here last month to be closer to them. To be honest, I don't have a lot settled here yet."

"So you're new in town and one of your first stops was to Vaughn's? That's certainly something." Jed chuckled. "Well, I'll be happy to offer you some thoughts on what there is to do in town--along with the movie recommendations, if you want."

"Oh! Sure. I'd appreciate that." they said, and grinned back. "First things first, though, I have to pay for all these tapes."

"Here," Jed leaned down to pick up the ever-expanding basket-- though chock-full of tapes, he managed to do it with surprising ease. "I'll help you carry this to checkout."

Selah's mouth opened and closed in surprise at the kind gesture, face going a bit red, but they nodded for him to go ahead. What were the chances-- meeting a gentleman horror fan in the middle of suburban Florida, who was, all things said and done, pretty easy on the eyes too? Next to none, they hazarded, but followed him to the checkout anyway.

Selah paid without a fuss, giving the sleepy-eyed teen at the register the requisite amount of cash. Haydn was playing again in the background as the two exited the store--Jed had offered to help carry the tapes to their car.

They reached Selah's hand-me-down Toyota Corolla E30 without any difficulty, chatting amiably on the short walk until the paper bag of cassettes was placed neatly on the passenger seat.

Selah didn't notice as they drove out of the lot the fact that Jed had recorded the model, make and license plate in his notebook, or the intricacies of their appearance, or the fact they were new in town with few connections. Or the fact that he had placed the horn rimmed glasses and blazer into a carefully placed canvas bag, or the fact that his posture changed as soon as he got to his own car, with the spare hunting knife stored under the driver's seat.

If the whole murder victim thing didn't work out, then maybe they could work as an alibi. He was loathe to let good taste like that bleed out in a gutter, and plus, movie nights sounded like a nice way to relax after a long day of murder. Plus, they didn't look awful, he reasoned. Danny withdrew the scrap of paper with their AIM handle and name from his pocket, and taped it into his notebook.

A thoughtful moment passed, and then Danny drew a little smiley face next to their name.

"I'll drop you a line," Jed had told them, easy smile on his face--the kind of smile that had stopped the Roseville Gazette editor in chief in their tracks during the job interview.

"S-sure, sounds fine." they had replied, pink-cheeked and awkward, before pulling out of the parking lot. He had flustered them enough that they forgot they didn't give him their number. Cute. He'd definitely give them a call soon.

#ghostface x oc #dbd x oc #dbd x reader #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #jed olsen #👻

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dansnotavampire-art · 4 years

Audio

so i discovered that i can do a pretty uncanny replication of nikola orsinov’s voice... this is the result of that. sorry for the audio quality, these were recorded on my phone and i am very bad at audacity.

transcription below the cut.

transcript:

a series of audio clips, all in the voice of nikola orsinov, performed by me.

clip one: do you think bananas feel pain like when you’re peeling them is there some kind of high frequency scream inaudible to humans crying aloud pain and scared as we strip the skin from their bodies and consume their soft insides? do you? well, i’m afraid, i’m going to have to confirm that this is indeed a thing that happens. you’re very lucky you can’t hear it!

clip two: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyways. Because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.

clip three: Hey there buddy chum pal friend buddy pal chum bud friend fella brother amigo pal buddy friend chummy chum chum pal i don't mean to be rude my friend pal home slice bread slice dawg but i gotta warn ya if u take one more diddly darn step right there i’m going to have to diddly darn snap your neck and wowza wouldn't that be a crummy juncture, huh? do you want that? do you wish upon yourself to come into physical experience with a crummy juncture? because friend buddy chum pal friend chum pally pal chum friend if you keep this up well gosh diddly darn i just might have to get not so friendly with u my pal friendly friend friend pal friend buddy chum pally friend chum buddy pal

clip four (this one is especially tinny, for some reason): if i were dating you. well, heh, lets just say horses wouldn’t be called horses anymore

clip five: hi everyone! remember to moisturise! you wouldn’t want all that lovely skin to go to waste, would you?

clip six (this one is slightly fuzzier than the others): I cant shit, silly! I’m made of plastic! I don’t have organs.

Clip seven (this one is a little bit echoey): yeah over here we have the literal apocyalpse, the watcher's crown, and over on your left you'll see the pyre where agnes montague was born, and here in this church you'll see the giant pit of meat that never ends and is always hungry, and yeah over here i guess is the dumb apartment block that someone wants to excuse as a ritual

#the magnus archives #tma #nikola orsinov #the rusty quill #rusty quill #audio crimes #audio #my voice

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blue-bird-on-a-wire · 3 years

Text

Beroya (Bounty Hunter)

Part 4 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,664

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, mentioned kidnapping/child kidnapping, insecure (Y/n), hinted/implied abuse of (Y/n), hinted/implied child abuse

Summary: Paz takes (Y/n) to Verith.

Updates: Every Tuesday at 5:30 pm MT

A/N: Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! 😊 Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master-list

“-op! Stop it! Get it off! It hurts!” screamed a child’s voice.

“Keep quiet!”

There was the sound of skin on skin - someone had just been slapped.

“If I hear another word outta that mouth, that lip won’t be the only thing bleedin’! You’ll wear that collar and you’ll like it!”

A whimper. The sound of heavy breathing - shuddering, if you will.

Heavy footsteps could be heard walking away before something slammed shut. Perhaps a door of some sort.

“I-I wanna go home,” cried the child’s voice. “I want my aliit.”

“Paz?”

The audio recording immediately stopped.

The big blue Mandalorian sat hunched over something in the cockpit. I could see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice. He reached for a rag at his feet and covered whatever was in front of him.

“Paz, what was that?” I asked, trying to peek around his body.

“It’s nothing,” Paz said, standing to full height as he turned to face me. “I didn’t hear you coming up the ladder.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wanted to ask where we’re going.”

Paz’s helmet tilted down and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “First we’re going to stop at Verith, so we can refuel and get you some clothes.”

I felt my chest tighten but in that sort of warm good way. Here I was worried about asking for undergarments, and Paz had already been planning to get me my own clothes.

I never had my own clothes before. Outfits were always passed around between Jabba’s slaves. We never owned anything for ourselves. It was all meant to be shared or borrowed.

I smiled. “Can I stay here with you?” I asked, taking look at the wide window that showed off the passing stars. “You have a pretty view up here, and in all honestly I’m not too used to the quiet. It was always noisy at Jabba’s. Even when he was asleep he would snore.”

Paz quietly laughed. Actually laughed. His head leaned back a bit and his shoulders shook.

“Of course, (Y/n),” Paz said, gesturing to the co-pilot chair. “How did you sleep? You were in there for a while.”

“I was?” I asked as I sat down. “Your bed is really nice. I’ve never slept on something so comfortable before.”

Paz shoved whatever was under the rag to the side with his boot, beneath the ship’s controls. “You flatter me. That bed is stiff, no need to sugar coat it.”

“I… I wasn’t,” I said, turning my gaze to the stars.

Paz sat down in the pilot’s chair. He stayed silent, but his helmet’s visor didn’t look away from me.

I watched the galaxy fly past us. I wondered how many people were out there. What kind of lives were they living?

What kind of life had this Mandalorian lived?

“Paz, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm.”

I assumed that meant yes. “You said you know me- or you knew me when we were children. But I can’t remember much of anything before Jabba.”

Paz nodded his head.

“... What was our childhood like?”

Paz’s helmet tilted upward as though he was thinking. His chair let out a creaking sound as he leaned back into it.

“Our childhood,” Paz said. He looked back at me, just as I was now looking at him. “... It was carefree. I was about seven when I first met you. Tinny little thing you were. Only about a year or two old, I think.”

I couldn’t help but picture a small boy wearing oversized Mandalorian armor, peering over a basket at an even smaller baby.

“I swore the creed not long after, so you wouldn’t remember what I looked like without the armor. I didn’t pay much attention to you at first. But we got older, and you learned to walk. Started following me everywhere,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I had to watch out for you when I trained. Elbowed you a few times on accident. I didn’t know you were behind me. Made me become more aware of my surroundings…”

Paz lifted an elbow to his armrest, resting the chin of his helmet on his hand. “You liked playing games, but your favorite was this hiding game. I would count to something like ten while you hid somewhere in the covert. Then I would find you, and you would count to a number before you found me.”

I smiled, “That sounds like a pretty fun game.”

Paz nodded his head, “You would start laughing whenever I came close to your hiding spot. I never pretended I couldn’t hear you. Thought it would make you a better warrior that way.” A pause. “Well… Sometimes I let you get away with it,” he admitted.

I wondered if he was this kind with other children as well. Did he still play with them when they asked?

“... It was happy,” Paz said.

Happy. At least for a while, I suppose.

We sat in silence for a little longer, and my gaze fell to the blur of stars through the cockpit’s window.

Paz never turned away from me. He watched intently, but I didn’t feel as threatened by it. I couldn’t even see his eyes but I just had this feeling that his stare was one of curiosity or reminiscing. Instinct could be crazy that way.

“It’s good to see there is still some of that child left in you,” Paz whispered, as though he didn’t want to disturb the air in the room.

“Hmm?” I asked, still looking outside.

“You always did love the stars.”

I smiled but made no move to look at him.

“... I remember looking at the stars,” I said. “I remember a dark sky with tall trees. I had to squint my eyes to look past the branches… Or, at least I think I did.”

Paz seemed to hold his breath.

“...Just little white dots spread throughout the sky… I haven’t seen the sky since I was brought to Jabba. I never thought I would see it again, but then you showed up,” I turned to look at Paz. “You set me free so I could see the stars.”

How many of these stars had changed since I last saw them? How many had died or were new?

I looked down at my hands, playing with the excessively long sleeves. “I can’t remember much because I don’t allow myself to… Or rather, I wasn’t allowed to. I could keep my name but nothing else.”

A pause.

Of course, he didn’t want to hear about it. Why would he-

“What was your childhood like? With Jabba,” Paz asked.

Or maybe he did.

“Boring. Kept me on my toes I guess,” I said. “I didn’t have friends because the only ones I could freely talk to were other slaves. But, none of them stayed around or lived long enough to have a relationship with me… In all honesty, I don’t even know how I survived for so long… Maybe I’m just really good at keeping my head down, or maybe I’m just lucky.”

“I daydreamed a lot. Made the day go by faster. When I was bussing tables I got to overhear smugglers and bounty hunters talking about the things from their travels. I learned about-“

Well, I suppose I re-learned or rediscovered, or-

“- I mean. I guess I heard about Mandalorians… I became obsessed with them. I used to have dreams about Mandalorians storming Jabba’s palace and taking me away to be a foundling.”

I smiled, glancing up at Paz.

“I suppose that in a way, those dreams came true.”

“But you weren’t bussing tables when I showed up,” Paz pointed out.

I felt the heat rise to my face and I let out a nervous laugh. “Um, I may have had a bad encounter with a bounty hunter. This guy was trying to hit on me-“

Paz straightened up in his chair.

“-and I wasn’t having it, so he convinced Jabba that I would make a good dancer. And everyone knows that dancers are dead within a week or so. Which is why he-“

“Where is he?” Paz interrupted.

“Oh! He’s dead. Jabba fed him to the rancor.”

Paz almost seemed disappointed. “That’s unfortunate. I would have liked to kill him myself.”

“Oh?” I asked. “How come?”

“No one can look at you or treat you like a piece of meat. Not as long as I’m around,” Paz explained. “He’s lucky it was a rancor that killed him and not me.”

I felt my heart flutter. No one had ever expressed this kind of protectiveness over me. Not in a million years did I think anyone could.

“You humor me,” I said, my voice quiet as I looked away from Paz.

“No, Sarad. Just being honest.”

A red light started flashing on the ship’s control panel, and Paz turned around in his chair to press a few buttons and flip a switch. “We’re exiting hyperspace now. You might want to strap in.”

Strap in? What did he mean by-

The ship jerked as it came to a slow. I flew out of my seat and onto the floor with a yelp.

Oh. That’s what he meant by strap in.

Embarrassed, I scurried back to the co-pilot’s seat hoping that Paz hadn’t noticed.

He definitely had. His shoulders were shaking as though he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Oh boy.

Looking out the window, I let out an audible gasp. A planet, covered in patches of green and brown with huge white clouds swirling about. It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Welcome to Verith,” Paz said as he took the ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

Drawing closer, I could see the outline of tall mountains covered in little green fuzzy things. The closer the got, I soon realized those were actually really tall trees. Little towns and cities were scattered about between the foliage. I could see colorful banners and flags waving in the wind.

I had never seen such breathtaking scenery.

~ ~ ~

As Paz lowered the ramp of the ship, I felt excitement bubble up within me. Tatooine had been so dry and dusty. From the looks of it this planet was the complete opposite.

I followed behind Paz, taking a quick look around.

This hanger was huge. There were so many people running about with tools and dirty faces from working on ships all day.

A teal twi’lik woman walked up to us, sparing a glance at my oversized clothing before meeting my eyes.

She was beautiful in her gray jumpsuit, even with black marks smudged across her cheek.

“How can I help you?” she asked, looking between Paz and I.

“Fuel,” Paz stated, handing over a small pouch. “We won’t be long.”

The woman nodded and accepted the money with ease before walking toward the ship.

“Let’s get going. The sooner we can get back the better,” Paz said.

“Why is that?” I asked as we walked out of the hanger.

I had never seen so much vegetation. There were trees everywhere I turned, and bushes scattered all about. Green, string-like things were hanging onto buildings. I could feel the compact dirt beneath my toes. It was cool and fairly moist. Nothing like the rough sand on Tatooine.

“This planet is crowded. Far too many people for my taste,” Paz stated.

I smiled. “Are you not around people very much?”

Paz let out an amused huff. “Not large crowds like this.”

I could see what he meant. I felt like I needed to hold onto Paz so I wouldn’t lose him. There were so many people running around all packed together. I could hardly hear over all the commotion.

Soon enough, Paz led me to a marketplace littered with different vendors.

They shouted as people walked by, yelling about deals or asking questions about what people had or didn’t have.

It was funny watching people either get sucked into a conversation and subsequently buying something, or get irritated at the vendor’s efforts.

I could sit somewhere and watch the comings and goings of this little marketplace all day.

“Hey! Miss!”

One of the vendors reached out from his stand to touch my shoulder.

I yelped in surprise and jumped back, accidentally bumping into Paz.

“Ya know what would look good on you?” He asked, holding up a dangly-looking collar in his other hand.

That was an awfully sparkly collar. It didn’t look practical at all. I could probably rip that thing from my neck if I wanted to.

A gloved hand aggressively swatted this man’s arm away from my body.

“Not interested,” Paz stated, placing one hand on my back to guide me forward.

“I wasn’ talkin’ ta you!” The vendor called. “That pretty lady ya got there-”

I felt Paz’s hand drop as he turned his head toward the man.

His helmet tilted downward almost like he was glaring.

“Alright! Alright! Sheesh,” the vendor waved his hands and looked out into the crowd for someone else to bother.

Wait a minute. Why did he suddenly stop?

“How did you do that?” I asked Paz as we continued walking down the street.

“No one likes to be threatened by a blaster,” the big blue Mandalorian simply stated.

“Oh…” Yeah, I suppose that made sense.

As we turned a corner onto another busy street, I heard laugher coming from not too far away. It was young laughter, like that of a-

“Look out!”

A young boy came running through the crowd, pushing past people and giggling.

Paz sidestepped out of the way just as the boy went flying past.

“I’m gonna get you! You can’t hide from me!” yelled another boy, quickly catching up to the first one.

Children. It had been a while since I had seen a child, let alone ones that were happy.

I couldn’t help but stop and watch as they zig-sagged through the street.

I hoped they would be ok. I hoped they would stay happy and carefree for the rest of their lives. I hoped they wouldn’t be snatched from their homes and be forced to-

“Almost there, Sarad,” Paz said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turned back to find him looking at me. Whoops.

“Sorry, I’m coming.”

Near the middle of the street was another vendor, but she was much less pushy. Hunched over and walking with a cane, her dark eyes light up when she saw Paz.

“Beroya!” she exclaimed. “It has been so long. How have you been?”

Bair-oy-ah? I thought his name was Paz.

The Mandalorian chuckled. “I’ve been fine. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

I nervously waved my hand at the woman. “Hi.”

The old woman gave me a once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “My goodness, what happened to you?” She placed a wrinkled hand on my collarbone.

Oh. I had forgotten about the lines on my neck. This place had already made me feel too comfortable.

“Oh, um-”

Paz placed a hand on my shoulder and started speaking in another language to this woman.

She looked up at him and her eyes widened before softening and glancing back to me. “Oh child, how strong you are.”

What? What did she mean? Paz had said that too.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The woman smiled, before swatting Paz in the leg with her walking stick.

He didn’t budge.

“How come you haven’t introduced us yet, Beroya? Where are your manners?” asked the woman, before turning back to me. “I am Jalimia, an old friend of Paz.”

Oh good. His name was Paz and I wasn’t going crazy.

“Nice to meet you Jalimia. I’m (Y/n),” I said.

“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get you into clothes that aren’t three times your size. Come, look here,” Jalimia said, walking behind her vendor’s stand.

I looked to Paz to see if it was ok.

Paz gestured toward Jalimia. “You don’t need my permission.”

I smiled before following after the old woman.

“Let’s see. What sorts of colors do you usually wear?” she asked.

“Uhh, great question,” I said.

On Tattoine, wearing white or generally light colors was a trademark of slavery. Before Oola’s outfit, I wore faded beige tunics. However, black didn’t feel right just yet. Black was symbolic of freedom, but I still didn’t fully feel free. Whatever that feeling may be. I didn’t know what to do with myself or where I was going. Almost… in a limbo of sorts.

“Hmm,” Jalimia looked me up and down before glancing at Paz.

She gasped, “I know what would look nice on you!” She reached under her stand.

Jalimia pulled out an old wooden trunk, filled to the brim with clothing. Opening it, she shuffled through several colorful pieces before pulling out some duller outfits underneath.

That made me feel better. At least she wouldn’t put me in anything flashy. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

“Ah, here we are,” Jalimia said as she pulled out a sky blue tunic top and a pair of dark gray pants. “Go behind that curtain and try these on.”

She shoved the outfit into my hands.

“And you can’t forget these, my dear,” Jalimia whispered, tucking something between the folds of the outfit.

She then waved me off before turning to a box full of shoes under her stand.

I made my way behind the curtian, safely out of view from the people walking by. Unfolding everything, I found a plain pair of undergarments between the folds of the tunic. I felt my eyes dampen at the gesture.

I took off the clothes Paz had lent me and put on Jalimia’s. They fit much nicer around my from. There was not much excess fabric on the sleeves, and the pants didn’t hang below my feet.

Stepping back out into the light with Paz’s clothes hugged tightly to my chest, my eyes fell onto the big blue Mandalorian. He was standing on the opposite side of the vendor’s stand, leaning against it with his arm crossed.

He straightened up once he spotted me.

“Oh how beautiful!” exclaimed Jalimia. “If I didn’t know they were nearly extinct, I would say you look like a Jedi in training.”

“A what in where?” I asked.

“No, Sarad, you look fine,” Paz turned to Jalimia. “Thank you. How much do I-”

“No, no, no. You have done me one too many favors. You just promise me to take good care of this one,” Jalimia pointed at me.

She then pulled up a pair of boots from the box. “And take these as well,” she said.

“Oh, I can’t possibly-”

“Hush child,” Jalimia said to me. “Think of these as gifts that come with your newfound freedom.”

Oh… That’s what Paz must have told her about.

“Go ahead and try them on. We don’t want you getting any blisters walking around in those boots.”

I slipped the boots on. They were snug against my feet, and padded enough on the inside that I didn’t feel any pebbles beneath the soles. I liked them.

I smiled. “You are so kind, Jalimia. Thank you for these.”

“We should get going,” Paz said to Jalimia. “Our ship is waiting for us not too far from here.”

Jalimia feigned disappointment. “What, you don’t want to spend a night here with old Jalimia?” she laughed. “I better see you around soon, Paz. Your company is anyways welcome.”

Paz nodded his head. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”

With that, I gave Jalimia a wave goodbye before following Paz back down the busy street.

I felt happier. Lighter. I had my own clothes now.

“How do you know Jalimia?” I asked as we turned a corner.

Paz’s helmet tilted to glance down at me. “She was a Mandalorian a long time ago. Her riduur died during the Siege of Mandalore. After her death, Jalimia took off her helmet never to dawn it again.”

“Oh…” I said. That made my heart ache. Jalimia seemed like such a happy person. I couldn’t imagine seeing her so distraught from losing someone she was close to.

“... What is a ridurr?” I asked.

“A life partner. Spouse. In Jalimia’s case, her ridurr was her wife,” Paz explained.

That made my heart hurt even more. She lost the most important person in her life. I couldn’t imagine having to endure such pain.

“... Where are we going next, Paz?”

“That’s up to you,” he said. “If you want to stay with me.”

The thought of not staying with him terrified me. I had nowhere else to go. Besides, Paz had already been kinder to me than most. Aside from Jalimia.

“If… If you don’t mind I would like to stay. At least for now,” I explained. “I hate to be a burden or anything, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Paz hummed, though I couldn’t tell what for.

“You could never be a burden.”

I smiled. That meant more to me than he could even know.

“... Once we get back to the ship, I was going to set course for Ket’yci. There is a Mandalorian covert stationed there.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “No way! You’re actually taking me to a Mandalorian covert?”

Paz chuckled, “Keep your voice down.”

“Paz, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this since I was little,” I loudly whispered.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that you will be embraced with open arms,” Paz said, though I still caught the hurt in his voice he tried to mask.

It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t remember. He knew that. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure I would be just as pained that my childhood friend had no memory of me either.

I grinned up at him. “Let’s get going then,” I excitedly said, gently gripping Paz’s arm and pulling him down the street.

(Part 5 coming soon!)

Mandoa Translations:

“Aliit” - “Family”

“Sarad” - “Flower”

“Beroya” - “Bounty Hunter”

“Riduur” - “Patner/Spouse/Husband/Wife”

(If you are interested in being added to the tag list, please tap/click this link Tag List & More 💕 Same goes for being taken off the tag list 😊 ALSO! If I forgot you on the tag list, I am so so sorry. Do not hesitate to remind me that you belong on the tag list. Thank you!)

#the mandalorain #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz viszla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x y/n #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #also on ao3

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sibyl-of-space · 3 years

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An Ode to AughtTube Cover Artists: on mid 2000's amateur YouTube musicians

I wrote a long essay on one of my biggest musical inspirations: amateur YouTube covers of video game songs from the mid 2000's.

Alternative blog post link: https://www.vgfamily.com/post/an-ode-to-aughttube-cover-artists

Remainder below readmore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Earlier today I found myself in want of a term that describes my extremely terrible aesthetics for amateur video game music covers. The correct term is probably lo-fi, in the sense of, quite literally, low fidelity. Horrible, tinny, noisy recordings of flawed performances. Recordings that feel like the equivalent of having a friend over and them asking you to play the Dragon Roost Island theme in your living room, then stopping halfway through because the cat wanted attention. That performance isn't going to win you a Grammy, but it was fun, your friend thought it was impressive, and you might cherish the memory of it for a long time.

A piece recorded in someone's bedroom with terrible equipment, when that is all they have access to, is not really lo-fi. However, someone with access to better tools deliberately choosing terrible ones? That is. Lo-fi is a genre which pointedly produces "worse" recordings and generally has a close relationship with nostalgia: it evokes music created in the past, when more limited resources were all musicians had access to, even though those limitations are now gone.

So, if I make music now, in 2021, evoking music from 15 years ago and using tools from 15 years ago (or techniques to emulate the sounds of those tools) -- that is lo-fi, and hipster to boot.

So I am here to talk about the specific past influences that color my brand of lo-fi. To discuss the particular era that was formative for me, and which now informs my uniquely bad aesthetics. And since other musicians of the past have written self-important thinkpieces on their inspirations, then I don't see why I can't do the same.

I was a tweenager on the internet in the mid 2000's. I was also a cellist and an obsessive fan of certain Nintendo games. My biggest musical inspirations - musicians I looked up to, but whose work still felt tangible and achievable - were amateur YouTube video game cover artists. Their works were so distinctly a product of this era that I feel I owe it to them to honor their creations as my inspirations, while placing them within the specific constraints musicians on YouTube were working with at the time. Out of a desire to coin a term for no reason, I'm going to refer to the pieces from this era as "AughtTube" covers.

Video: piano cover of "A Link to the Past: Hyrule Castle" by Pascal von Stekelenburg, aka NightShader1; posted July 24, 2007.

youtube

First of all: this, and all of the covers I'll be posting, slaps.

NightShader1's face is not in this video. You see their hands playing the piece in what is unambiguously a live single-take recording. There is no production quality to speak of. The video recording is in 240p. The purpose of this video is to demonstrate "look! I played this!"

This video is actually pretty close to a perfect or ideal performance, which isn't always the case for AughtTube covers. These covers are virtually all recorded in a single take - after all, have you tried comping low quality audio/video in Windows Movie Maker (2007)? It's not going to work out for you. Any splice is going to be more obvious than a small error, so in general, artists opted to just try for the single best take they could get and then post it.

Also, given how poor most cheap and available audio recording equipment was (crappy 2007 phone mics or crappy 2007 USB mics; pick your poison, they're both terrible), there was more impact in a cover if you could show that you played it yourself in one go.

Video: piano cover of "Wind Waker Ocean Overworld," by Nunquam; posted Feb 3, 2007.

youtube

Video description: "Here's the sailing music from the Wind Waker on the piano. Sorry for the mistakes and the really bad video skippiness."

This is a perfect demonstration of AughtTube cover values: if an artist recorded a take that was good enough, they posted it. Again, the only part of Nunquam that we see here are their hands, as proof that they are playing the music we hear. The primary focus is on the fact that Nunquam is the person playing the music we are hearing, and we can appreciate that because we can see their hands producing the notes. The recording quality is "this was probably recorded on a cell phone," but that doesn't matter, because this cover was never going to be put in an album and sold. It was only ever going to be posted to share a performance, as a bit of fun, and a bit of a flex.

AughtTube covers were not intended to produce a studio-quality piece of music for consumption. They were equally about conveying the act of performance as they were about the pieces being played. A few wrong notes are excusable when the audience can see you worked hard producing them, and that heck, you're proving you can play an instrument at all. That's impressive! It's something to be proud of!

Video: piano/synth cover of "Zelda, the Wind Waker - introduction story," by Anadin, posted Sep 2, 2007.

youtube

You may have noticed that these are all Zelda keyboard covers so far. Here is where I have to admit that my capacity to rigorously and extensively look at AughtTube covers as a broad genre is, uhh, limited. This is because:

I am, unfortunately, searching on YouTube in the year 2021. It is extremely, extremely difficult to find anything 10+ years old recorded in poor quality on long-dead channels using the search function. Thus...

My main tool for citing these videos is my own playlist that I made in the 2000's with my favorites. Half of the videos are no longer accessible, but thankfully many of them still are. This means that my sources are biased by what past-me, personally, decided that I wanted in the playlist.

And, well, I really liked piano covers, and I really liked Zelda. So Zelda piano covers are what I have to work with. I would be delighted to receive recommendations for other AughtTube covers, featuring other instruments/covering pieces from other games, if any readers happen to have any.

This one's fascinating because look at this VARIETY!!! We get to see a bit of Anadin's torso in addition to their hands. They changed up the camera angle a bit, nice innovation. Also love the synth texture, this isn't any old keyboard piano cover this is using unique instrumentation. You go, Anadin!

I don't think I need to point out that, again, we are focusing on Anadin's hands, proof of performance, and the recording quality isn't anything to write home about. I am thinking that at this point, most of you get the picture.

(Another interesting and related note: the internet culture of the mid-2000's was much more interested in anonymity than the present day. I think the fact that we don't see any of these players' faces is a byproduct of a desire for anonymity, in addition to a focus on the performance. Filming a face instead of a hand was out of the question, but filming a face in addition to a hand was not desirable either.)

Video: piano cover "Bryan plays Outset Island," posted by paulosimmons Oct 13, 2007.

youtube

Video description: "Bryan playing a song he likes."

I particularly love this one. This one has a slightly different intention than the others, which were all self-recorded and self-posted; this one is recorded and posted by someone else, and has Embarrassing Supportive Dad energy. I think my favorite part is when someone unrelated is running up the stairs in the background, and how it ends with Bryan going "sorry."

Despite the slightly different framing, I think this one as well as the previous all demonstrate very well the idea I'm hoping to communicate here: AughtTube covers all feel exactly like someone playing for their school's talent show. There is no commercial value in these pieces, they are all about showing off a performance, and there is no notion that the performance must be world-class in order to merit showing it off.

There is a reason I am specifically framing this around video game covers. I know that "gamers are an oppressed minority" is rightfully a meme because pretending being a Gamer(TM) makes you special in 2021 is a stupid take. However, when I was a kid who almost exclusively listened to video game soundtracks (this has not changed), most of my peers at school wouldn't recognize the songs I listened to, save a couple who are still my close friends to this day. Music is a part of one's identity, and as a kid, it meant a lot when I had people I could share the music I liked with. And for the most part? I found that online, rather than in person.

No one else at my school was going to play Outset Island for the talent show, but some kid on YouTube did. So I added his performance to a "Zelda" playlist that I listened to.

This is where the informal nature of AughtTube covers is in fact the appeal: they are approachable. There are hundreds, probably thousands, of extremely professional-quality covers on YouTube today by talented, hard-working, and accomplished musicians. But when I was a kid, I don't think watching those would have inspired me as much as watching this random person fumble a bit and say "sorry" before the 240p video abruptly cuts off.

And this is what has curated my personal flavor of lo-fi. I make certain music out of a desire to inspire other musicians. I want someone to hear my slightly-shitty work and think "oh, I could probably do that," and then do that. I want to put music out in the world that is out-of-tune enough, poorly-produced enough, and relatable enough that it inspires someone else to pick up their instrument and give it a whirl.

So: I now wrap this up with some shameless self-indulgence, because that's what this entire essay has been at its core. I recently wrote a cover of FFIX's "Battle 1" for a midterm project. While I did use a decent microphone, my room acoustics are poor and I used effects in post that make the voices sound a little piercing. And although I did comp together several takes for each line, I stopped recording when I got bored and did not get enough to produce a really perfect recording. The mic placement is intentionally close so you can hear the crunch and snap of my bow pulling on the strings.

Someone in class suggested that I could try using pitch correction to fix some of the blatantly out-of-tune notes. My response was "no."

youtube

EDIT/AMENDMENT: it's worth noting that the first video posted is in fact also advertising the musician, in that it includes the performer's name and also a link to their (still up!!) website. This probably explains why it's of a higher quality than many of the others posted, which do not appear to demonstrate a similar purpose.

#internet history #old youtube #internet nostalgia #2000s internet #thots n musins #analyses #Youtube

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sonnet57 · 4 years

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Statement of Martin Blackwood regarding his dreams. Statement... pulled direct from subject. Sorry, love. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims… the Archive.

It starts as it always does. He’s standing over his mother, when she had first gotten sick. There hadn’t been any blood on his hands yet. He looks down at them, gripping the side of the hospital bed, his knuckles turning stark white. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t know to look. He continues looking down, at his knuckles, his mother’s face, back to his knuckles. And then the fear hits, because I know just as he knows what happens next. His mother opens her eyes. She tells him to get out, that she doesn’t need a man like him doting on her. And I know as he knows what that really means.

It shifts. He’s standing over his mother again. There’s so much hatred in her eyes. She calls him by his father’s name. I want to reach out to him, but he still doesn’t know I’m there. I wish he did. I wish you did…

Another shift. He’s sitting over me. We’re both still, me from everything-but-brain-death, him wound tight with hope. My burnt hand is in his, wrapped around the scar Jude Perry bestowed upon me. He’s gripping it tight, and begins speaking. He tells me he loves me, that he needs me back in the institute, he doesn’t even try to prevaricate and say that they all do. There are tears in his eyes. They drip down onto the pale grey sheet of my hospital bed. He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. I have to look away as he begs me to wake up. To wake up for him.

Shift. He has an arm full of tape recorders. He piles them on top of the coffin that leads to the Buried. As they hit the wood, they start playing statements, a cacophony of my own voice flowing through their tinny speakers. He places his hand on the wood and pulls another recorder from his breast pocket. He stares at it for a moment, his thumb poised to press record. He thinks better of it and instead decides to press his words into the scratched lid of the coffin. He tells the empty room with the hope that it would reach me that he loves me. That I have to come back. It’s then that I realize how many times and in how many ways Martin Blackwood has been telling me he loves me.

Shift. The Lonely. He’s standing still. He barely reacts as he hears my calls. I can feel the loneliness within him, radiating off of him, surrounding him. I can feel his contentment, as well. I reach him finally, but he doesn’t look at me, even when I implore him to. In his dreams, he’s determined to stay in the Lonely. I expect this dream me to become furious, to storm away, to try and compel him to tell me why he wants to stay here, but I don’t. I circle around him, I drop to my knees, get myself into his field of vision. I continue to beg him to leave this place with me, that I know the way home, that Peter Lukas is gone and we don’t have to worry about him anymore. But he closes his eyes. He doesn’t look back at me and my voice begins to fade away. In his dreams, he never leaves the Lonely.

Statement ends.

There’s a shifting on tape and the creaking of a bed frame.

“Martin…” the Archive whispers. There’s a small noise, a kiss to a forehead, “Martin, wake up.” Another pause, another shift, a sing-song, “Love.”

The ancient sheets shiff as the body entwined in them awakens, “Oh, hello,” the Archive whispers, voice fond, “how was your nap?”

There’s a drawn out yawn and a hum, “It was good. Are you alright? Do you need something?”

“No, I just missed you. And… you were dreaming. You looked… distressed. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Another hum, “Can’t remember it.” A slight pause, “Are you sure you’re alright, Jon? The recorder is on. Did something happen?”

“It’s just reacting to your dreams, I think. Wanted me to… make a statement about them.”

“And did you?”

The Archive doesn’t speak for a long moment. There’s a sigh, “Play it for me.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Though this is the first and only time. Agreed?”

The Archives speaks, a fond smile in his voice, “Agreed. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#tyler writes #the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #jonmartin #please receive my hot garbage #also jonny sims cant stop them from kissing #not on my watch

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felixnation · 3 years

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THE TOP 10 WORST KPOP SONGS OF 2020

(WARNING: I DON’T LIKE THESE SONGS AND WILL BE MEAN AT THEM. I DO NOT HAVE ANY PERSONAL BEEF WITH ANY OF THESE GROUPS OR ARTISTS SO DON’T COME FOR ME IF YOUR FAVE MADE A STINKER TRACK THIS YEAR.)

Ah, 2020. The year where disco came back, the 80s came back, and everyone was titling their songs after nonsense words. It was a good year for k-pop overall, with a lot of new trends entering the game towards the end of summer. However, there were some real clunkers that refused to get out of my head this quarantine and pissed me off to varying degrees each time I heard them. This list is an attempt to chronicle all of those.

So without further ado, let’s get this shit done.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

NCT 127 - PUNCH This isn't actually a bad song, hence it only making it to the honorable mentions section. In fact, I think this could've easily made the best list had it not been for one thing, and that's the presence of NCT 127, namely their rap line. The instrumental on this thing is absolutely killer and one of the best productions to come out of SM in a long time. The entire thing is bizarrely structured and incredibly gutsy, and therefore I think it's a travesty that an instrumental this incredible was drowned in ASMR-esque whispers and EYYYY WE BALLINs. There are a few salvageable sections, namely the first post-chorus, and we see glimmers of NCT 127's true potential, should they choose to explore this sound further.

CIGNATURE - NUN NU NAN NA Similar to Punch, I admire the production choices here - there are a few sections that blast you with 100gecs-esque womps, and that's always something I enjoy. The vast majority of the song rarely dips below decent territory, but since the entire thing hinges on the titular hook, it ends up falling apart right when it needs to bring the hype the most. I mean, building a hook around those notes was...an interesting choice, I guess. It reminds me a lot of fromis_9's FUN!, which also constructed the entire song around a terrible set of notes. Listen to them yell that hook at you and tell me it doesn't sound off. Most frustrating song of 2020.

ONG SEONG WU - GRAVITY Have you ever heard a drop this weak? I sure haven't. I hate the way he says DIVING INTO YOUR LOVE, the over-enunciation kills me and there's one syllable too many. Also, thanks Ong Seong Wu for giving CRAVITY the promo they deserve.

BTS - FLY TO MY ROOM I can't relax while listening to this, the beat is so sparse and has this nauseous sway to it that really makes me feel like I'm reliving these past 9 months of quarantine all over again. And just like quarantine, it really feels like this goddamn thing never ends. That final set of choruses is really a chore to get through, and I'm not the only one who thinks so - shout out to Taehyung for serving taste and I'm sorry Jimin convinced you to sing out of your natural range yet again.

TREASURE - MMM Ew.

I*ZONE - FIESTA It's a pretty standard girl group song up until that chorus hits and oh my god, who on earth produced this? Are they actively trying to trigger my psychosis? There are so many sounds happening that it feels like three or four demo tracks laid on top of each other, it makes me confused even trying to figure out what's going on here. And that post-chorus drop is horrendous, it's like the instrumental is literally screaming into my ear STREAM BLOOM*IZ!!! STREAM BLOOM*IZ YOU DUMB CUCK!!! YOU LOVE IT!!!

NOW FOR THE REAL LIST.

#10: TAEYEON - HAPPY

I do not like this. Taeyeon has one of the most powerful voices in the industry and instead of putting it to good use, she decided to put out the musical equivalent of eating a stick of butter. Bland, horrible texture, seems to go on forever and ever, you know you shouldn't be consuming it and you don't know why you're doing this to yourself, etc.

The MV contributed to my dislike, with Taeyeon whitewashed all the way into uncanny valley as she lounges around her beautiful apartment. Well of course you'd be happy if you lived in a place like that, I know I would. The sad thing is that there's some really nice vocal work here and there, but for the majority of the song, Taeyeon decides to serenade us in the most nasal tone that she can muster. I know she can sing better than this, and I'm disappointed in her for creating this and unleashing it on the world.

#9: WEKI MEKI - OOPSY

Whereas Picky Picky was annoying in the best way possible, Oopsy is annoying in the worst way possible. The instrumental legitimately sounds cheap, the drums sound so tinny and artificial that it's hard on the ears. Not to mention the hook, wherein the girls force their voices as high as they can go as they proclaim OOPSY!

I'm a huge fan of cute concepts, but when it comes to putting out a high-energy sugary track like this, you're walking a fine line between adorable and irritating. Weki Meki didn't even try to walk the line, they just dove headfirst into irritating territory without a care in the world. It literally feels like the audio equivalent of having to hold a whiny toddler and then it pisses itself and the mom is just cooing about how her little darling made an oopsy.

#8: VICTON - MAYDAY

It feels like for most of the year, the vast majority of boy groups were stuck in a rut, knee-deep in sludgy EDM and leather harnesses. You know the songs I'm talking about, and I could've put any one of them here, but I chose this one purely because that chorus makes me feel like I have a concussion. I don't like this song nor the trend it's representative of - I spent most of quarantine having the same dark BG concepts thrown at me over and over and I'm glad things are starting to take a bit of a turn.

The bridge on this is actually pretty great, and the guys in VICTON do know how to sing, as can be seen in the final post-chorus. But man, there's just nothing fresh being brought to the table here, just the same stale trends in their worst form yet. The hook is so slow and drowsy, the same few notes just repeated over and over. I have not seen the MV because I feel like I can picture it well enough in my head just by listening. Are there harnesses? Don't forget those, boys.

#7: MCND - SPRING

Only Pentagon are allowed to do these concepts.

#6: HYO, LOOPY, SOYEON - DESSERT

This is genuinely unlistenable as soon as the drop hits, with a vocal stitching job that might be a horn synth, I'm not sure. That's how annoying it is. The producer is clearly incompetent and the performers are oozing with personality, though not the pleasant sort. The hook is bratty and the raps here are beyond generic. After the halfway point, there are a couple interesting sounds thrown into the mix, but it's not enough to save things.

Soyeon in particular sounds awful here, with her iconic nasally tone morphing into something genuinely irritating and borderline spiteful. Age up the toddler from the Oopsy comparison to around 7 or 8 and that's basically what you've got here. All I can hope is that this song is not influential in any way, shape or form, because I just had a vision of Blackpink imitating this production style and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

#5: SECRET NUMBER - WHO DIS?

I'm not sure how many Secret Number fans are out there, but I'm about to make all of em real mad at me right about now. However, it must be said.

This is basically Your Turn by Kaachi again.

I don't think I need to explain that hot take, just listen to the song. It's surprisingly amateurish, to the point where I feel like the vocals aren't in sync and they just used the first take they got from each girl. The raps in particular are awful, and I swear they even sound like they go off-key a couple of times. How this blew up in any aspect is bizarre to me. Anyways, stream Photo Magic and stan Kaachi.

#4: BAEKHYUN - CANDY

Did you want a k-pop version of Yummy by Justin Bieber? No? Well, Baekhyun decided to make it anyways! At least Yummy was sort of funny in how bad it is, this is just...a somber affair. Inexplicably, he manages to oversing the final third of the song, which I don't get the point of, but okay. Lazy, underproduced and overproduced at the same time, bland, boring, annoying...

Wait, did he just say...

Okay, I changed my mind, this is hysterical. Like Pop rocks, strawberry, bubble gum...

#3: (G)-IDLE - DUMDI DUMDI

I'm so sick of this group's 'ethnic' schtick, it's like they never learn. They just don't give a fuck - after a string of genuinely great tracks like Hann, Lion, and Oh My God, they just decide to put out this shit and expect me to listen to it? They're a group with a lot of potential, with some brilliant vocalists and the talent that is Soyeon (who really loves being on this list, apparently) but if they continue down the path of using different cultures as concepts I can't support them any further.

The song itself has salvageable parts, a recurring theme on this list, but the over-the-top tribal influences are so obvious and tropey that even listening to it feels gross. (G)-Idle have more creative control than most groups, and the fact that they're capable of creating works of art like Lion is what makes me harsh on them. Instead of moving forward, they continue to regress into their comfort zone of cultural appropriation.

#2 YOOA - BON VOYAGE

Speaking of cultural appropriation...are we gonna address this? Nah? Okay.

Oh My Girl, YooA's parent group, has a history of blatant cultural appropriation (and arguably some legit racist moments depending on how you look at it) and they seem like they're not changing anytime soon. That's why this particular song stings even more than it probably should. If you thought Dumdi Dumdi's tribal influences were a little too on the nose, take a listen to this chorus.

YooA has a bad voice, is wearing tribal face paint, and is running around the wilderness whitewashed into oblivion while a choir of nameless voices chant vaguely tribal things behind her. Even in an industry like k-pop, this sticks out as something in bafflingly poor taste, and I can't see how she got away with this in 2020.

#1 BLACKPINK & SELENA GOMEZ - ICE CREAM

Well, this is a predictable pick.

I don't know why or how Blackpink thought they could get away with drip-feeding blinks content for 4 goddamn years in the lead-up to their first album, only to drop this big fat clunker on them. I honestly felt insulted by the song, from its cheap, tinny production to the god-awful lyrics. I don't know how anyone could find any value in a piece of music this soulless and hollow.

Lisa's raps are by far the worst part of it, with FIRE BARS such as "you're the one been chosen, play the part like moses" and "mona lisa kinda lisa". Unfortunately, these raps take up a good portion of the song, and there's nothing going on in the instrumental to distract you from them, save for that little ice cream truck jingle. (or at least I think that's what the producer was going for)

Selena is a non-presence and essentially blends in with the girls, who WAIL that awful hook like their lives depend on it. Also, there's some really cheesy innuendos here that're sung with all the sex appeal of the actual ice cream truck driver from literally your neighborhood.

I loathe what this song represents - the only good thing about it is that the girls look stunning in the MV. And that's exactly the thing - this song represents the exact moment in time wherein Blackpink admitted to their audience that music is no longer their main focus. This is the peak of their influencer-ization, and only time will tell if they'll redeem themselves. (Spoiler: They sort of did, goddammit.)

#kpop #worst kpop #kpop review #review #yooa bon voyage #blackpink ice cream #mcnd spring #dumdi dumdi #baekhyun candy #victon mayday #secret number #taeyeon happy #weki meki

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