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dreamingdreamsnevermore-blog · 3 years

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Welcome to the Universe (Jammy) - The Final Chapter: “The end of the beginning”

We hope this piece gives a little deserved closure to our beloved Jammy and where they are now. Sammy has a few surprises in store, familiar faces and old friends paying a visit! Thanks for reading and all the support. x T&C

**Welcome to the Universe

Epilogue: “The end of the beginning”**

“Dear Diary, where to begin? 10 years ago I was given the unique opportunity to work with a talented band and travel the world. How can I put into words all the experiences and emotions I've gathered through the years? I've started this journey with you all on April 9th 2010 when I was 25 years old, I was engaged at the time, with a long-term vision of the life path I was supposed to follow. Until a certain rock band crossed my path and, changed my entire life for the better.

During my life on the road I love meeting up with each and every one of you. I was embraced right from the start, welcomed straight into the warm yet crazy dysfunctional family also known as The Echelon. I'm forever grateful for all you have done for me and how you entrust me with your stories, now it’s our time to give you a rare insight in ours. It’s been a while since our last interaction, and a lot has happened. Life is not what you expect, it’s made up of the most unexpected twists and turns.

April, 2011 Cussing underneath my breath I slam through the doors leading into the venue’s foyer, crowded with fans still buzzing on their concert high. Hitting speed dial again I bring my phone to my ear while making my way across the venue. Rounding the corner I smack into a fan at high speed, making us both bounce back. Picking up her bag, her piercing blue eyes meet mine, midnight black hair pulled back into a pony tail “oh god, I’m so sorry” I exclaim “It’s okay” she assures me with a smile. “Nice tattoo!” I say pointing out the Mithra tattoo on her upper left arm, peeking from underneath her slipped cardigan. “Thanks” a cramped smile forms her plum tinted lips while shrugging her cardigan back on her shoulders. Continuing my sprint I can’t help but ponder she looks familiar. “I’m sorry I’m late” I gush out of breath breaking through the doors finally reaching their dressing room. Shannon throws a bottle of water my way which I eagerly accept and take a big gulp. “Can’t believe you haven’t broken an ankle wearing those killer heels around the arena.” Tomo laughs. Tugging the hem of my shirt dress I fake a bow. “We need to get to the meet and Greet” I point out matter of factly “You’re actually late” Jared eyes me as it trails from my lips “Isn’t that going to be your fault?” Pulling up a brow I hurl the water bottle back at Shannon who’s started laughing at the remark. Throwing me a kissy face Jared passes me with a slap on the ass. “Instead of throwing a fit, we should go, we don’t want to be even more late.” “Oh you-” slapping him across the back I roll my eyes and lead them to the meet and greet lodge. Luckily the fans were still all excited to meet the guys despite the delay. Shannon instantly turned into a goof spreading himself out on the floor while Jared started telling tales. Since time was cut shorter they quickly start their picture moment. I smile noticing the little boy that caught one of Shannon’s drumsticks. “Oh seems like you’re taking home a treasure from this gig” blushing he nods his head “Can I take a picture of you holding it out in victory?” glancing up in excitement he seeks approval of his father. “Sure” the young man squeezes the kids shoulder and I quickly snap his picture as it soon is his turn to have his picture taken with the guys. Obviously Shannon notices he’s caught one of his sticks and picks the boy up planting him up on his shoulders striking a triumph pose. I laugh at the display and shake my head. Jared high fives the boy and watches as he jolts to his father beaming with joy. As his eyes cross those of his father I notice Jared tense up, looking startled. His gaze wonders to Shannon next to him, who’s busy admiring a trinity skull seal tattoo on a girl’s neck. It takes a split second and he composes himself quickly. When the meet and greet is over Jared slips from the room immediately “Jared” I walk after him but he keeps on walking “Hey” grabbing his arm he stops and looks at me “What is going on? Earlier you looked like you’d seen a ghost?” wiping his brow he sighs deeply “I’m sorry Sammy, I’ve got some unfinished business I need to attend, I won’t be long.” Sucking my lower lip between his he kisses me short but deeply. “be back soon.” And without further explanation he marches off. Deciding to skip the party for one of the crew’s birthday I head to the busses and start my draft for tonight’s entry for the tour diary. “I can’t believe you kept this from me. From us.” Jared’s voice is tense as I hear the bus door open. I hear him fling his phone across the bus and hiss a curse. “Jared?” startled he turns around, obviously not having expected someone to be on the bus. “Is everything alright?” I arch a brow as he pulls me close. A deep groan escaping his lips. Lacing my arms around his waist he captures my lips in a wet and greedy kiss. "yes, knowing we’re alone on this bus, everything seems perfect" he grins, extracting a soft giggle from my lips as his hands slip underneath my oversized shirt dress cupping and squeezes my ass. Tangling his fingers through my messy locks I chuckle resting my hands on his damp chest. Scrunching his nose his fingers start unbuttoning the shirt to cup my boobs firmly while stealing a kiss. “Let’s take advantage of this alone time" smacking my ass once more he pulls away and hurls me over his shoulder stalking me upstairs.

I nervously twirl my lanyard between my fingers making Shannon laugh while I walk off the stage. “Such a fangirl” he nudges my arm with a grin as I just announced ‘Best Female’ at the MTV Video music awards. “I think I’m gonna be sick” I mumble turning around holding my hand against my mouth as I dry heave “You’re adorable, shouldn’t have had those dumplings before the show!” he laughs handing me his water bottle for a sip. As the next performer is announced we head to the side of the stage. “I’m very curious about this act, apparently there’s a mystery guest.” Shannon comes to stand next to me crossing his arms and huffs “Eminem is legendary, he doesn’t need a guest.” he says as the light dims and the venue goes dark. A white beam illuminates a piano, sat at it a busty blonde wearing a sparkling silver and black leather bodysuit with plunging neckline, fishnet stockings and leather knee-high stilettos. * ‘On the first page of our story, the future seemed so bright. Then this thing turned out so evil - I don't know why I'm still surprised’ Finishing the first verse she pauses for a minute ‘Even angels have their wicked schemes, And you take that to new extremes. But you'll always be my hero, even though you've lost your mind.” Whipping her blonde locks from her face she gets up from the piano and walks across the stage. It is then that I recognize her tattoo’s, more precisely the Mithra one on her upper arm. “hey I think she was at a gig” I mumble enthusiastic turning to Shannon who’s gone pale observing the scene in front of him. * “Just gonna stand there and watch me burn, well that's alright because I like the way it hurts” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Shannon curses under a breath. “Did you know about this!?” he asks with a fixed stare. “Know what?” I ask confused pulling my vibrating phone from my pocket, taking note of Jared’s name and answer it backing away to a quieter spot while the song erupts as Eminem joins her on stage. * ‘Hush baby, speak softly, tell me I'll be sorry. - That you pushed me into the coffee table last night,So I can push you off me - Try and touch me so I can scream at you not to touch me’ “Is Shannon with you?” his voice is tense and edged “Yes, why?” as the song peaks its finale and the arena falls dark. Shannon stalks over to me and without any explanation yanks my all access badge from the back pocket of my blazer dress “What the fuck Shannon” I sneer at him grasping hold of his arm but he shrugs out of my grip. “Sammy. Don’t.” he hisses, eyes blazing like I’ve never seen them before. Ending my call to Jared without explanation I run a hand through my hair and stalk after Shannon through the catacombs of the venue. Finding him stood in front of a backstage dressing room he looks lost, hurt and most of all confused. Drawing in a deep breath I compose myself, steadying myself with the palm of my hand against the door and hold my finger out at Shannon who turns to me. After a few seconds and without granting him a word I slap him hard across the cheek, yanking my lanyard from his hand. “Shannon what the fuck.” I demand an explanation. Right in that moment the door opens and a young guy stares me right in the face, the look in his eyes reading like a deer caught in headlights as his eyes fall upon Shannon. I remember him, long blonde locks tousled into a messy man bun, two impressive full sleeves across his muscled arms. He was at the meet and greet a few weeks back. Behind him the girl that just took the stage sat on the couch, holding her head in her hands. “Kristie.” Shannon breathes, his voice broken. Her head shoots up hearing her name, teary eyes connecting with his. Pulling the blonde wig from her head she reveals her dark locks. The young guy places his palm against Shannon’s chest “Can we talk for a minute?” Shannon huffs eying him, not impressed as he pushes past him. Kristie sighs “Alec, it’s okay.” I stumble a little to the left as an energetic boy runs past me towards her. “Mommy don’t cry, you were amazing!” Jumping onto her lap the boy smothers her with kisses and wipes her tears. She smiles and runs her hand through his hair “Oh my number one fan!” Planting a kiss on his lips she motions Alec who in responds takes the little boy’s hand and moves outside to watch the live feed. “You fucking ghosted me Kristie” Shannon walks over to her looking defeated “I know- i’m sorry” she sighs deeply standing up, a painful look on her face “Sorry!? Thats all you’ve got to say?” grabbing her arm firmly he shakes her and pushes her against the wall “SHANNON.” I bark at him marching over and push him off her. I never encountered this side of him before and to be honest, it scared me a little. She sighs deeply burying her face in her hands “What did you expect Shannon?” her voice is but a whisper as she wipes her tears and sits down on the couch. “The night we had our fight, I hated you, I hated myself, I… I was ready to take my own life.” She takes a gulp from her bottle of water. Shannon sighs, uncomfortably fidgeting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Kristie I regret every word I said that night. I...” he shakes his head. She looks up, regret touching her eyes as they meet his. “This thing we had, it was unhealthy, it was violent, abusive, sex-driven...”she falls silent and a soft laugh escapes her lips as she rolls her eyes “We fucking loved it, shit , there’s even proof of that.” My eyes grow wide as realization sinks in, the kinky tape. It’s her. “Shannon, I don’t regret us… I regret what we became..” She shakes her head softly, her eyes closed and exhales a breath “But I don’t regret the decision I made after recovering from the overdose” nervously she rubs the palms of her hands together and rethinks her words. “Our beautiful mistake, my biggest blessing” her eyes wonder up to find the little boy roaming the halls. It takes a split second for Shannon to register her confession as he goes pale. Jared bursts through the door, eyes scanning the situation in the room, a breath leaving his lips as his eyes land upon Kristie. Shannon looks broken and defeated and silence falls upon the room “You told me she lost the baby” he hisses at Jared. “I needed a stable and safe environment, not only for my sake but most importantly my child’s sake.” “Kristina why did you cut us out of your life, we could have h-” Jared asks but she interupts him “I’m not proud of my lies.” She shakes her head while Shannon paces around “I loved you Shannon. I still do…” Getting up from the couch she walks over to him, touching his shoulder “I’m sorry” A flash of anger washes over his face as he turns to face her. His composure tells me he’s doing all he can to hold himself together. “So why now then, after all those years? He’s five. You need a famous daddy to milk?” A sour smile touches her lips as she pops several pills to her lips and swallows them with a gulp. Crossing his arms Shannon cocks his head unapprovingly “I want to learn from my mistakes. I know we’ve both changed...” “And you’re forgetting to mention you’re sick.” Jared crosses his arms. “Ah yes, demons from my past have come to haunt me. I’m enjoying my little fucked up party for as long as I still can” She falls silent and shrug “I’ve got no one but myself to blame for this mess.” “Fuck Kris.” Shannon swallows hard “You should have told me sooner” She tilts her head tucking a strand of hair behind her ear “I know. Can we- can we start over? Learn from our mistakes? For our son’s sake? I know I’m asking a-lot and this is overwhelming... But he’s been asking questions about his father lately..” Shannon swallows hard as she touches his arm “Please, I’m not expecting nor demanding you to take up your responsibilities as a father. I just want him to get to know you.” cupping his cheek Kristie presses her lips soft yet passionate against his. Shannon gazes into her eyes with tears of his own and whispers an apology brushing his finger along her lower lip before pulling her in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry things when the way they did” he whispers and swallows hard as Alec walks in with the boy. Placing her finger on his lip she silences him. “Let’s look at the future now, the past is behind us. Let’s make better mistakes from now on.” He nods and she motions towards the boy. “Shannon, this is Ryder.” It is then that I match the little puzzle in my head. Alec and Ryder were at the meet and greet, Shannon had already met his son without even realizing it.

There are two sides to every story and you need to hear both to know all the facts. We may not always agree or like what we discover. Some secrets are deep and sometimes they are filled with regret. Shannon’s relationship with Kara had to endure a few storms dealing with the revelation of his son and rekindling his relationship with Kristie on and off tour. He wanted to make up for his mistakes and rebuild the lost trust and their friendship, for the sake of their son. He voluntary filed a declaration of Paternity taking up his parental responsibilities. Kristie had started working an album independently, filled with powerful, painfully honest songs about toxic relationships, battling addiction, accepting herself and her demons. One night when Shannon invited Kristie over to talk about collaborating on one of her songs their passion reignited, triggering suppressed emotions, seeking solace, coping with intense grief over past and future. Their intimacy was intense, raw and emotional. They didnt regret their actions that night, but they agreed it would be the last time, focusing on a healthy, stable and amicable partnership in raising their son. His relationship with Kara crumbled under the pressure as she already battled her way through her own insecurities dealing with Kristie and Ryder.

When dating a 'celebrity', you never choose the public opinion that comes with it, and you’re never ready for it either. ‘Real love doesn't meet you at your best. It meets you in your mess.’, that quote sadly hits close to home. Jared guided me through my mess, my own battles. ‘Pain shapes a woman into a warrior' the quote traces my spine. Jared has never been a celebrity to me, I never had heard of Thirty seconds to mars nor him, till the day I signed on for the tour diary. I never intended to fall for the celebrity lead singer/actor. Working together 24/7 we established a friendship, that eventually blossomed and we developed a greater depth of love. It stands for the terror I went through experiencing domestic abuse, sexual assault and stalking by the man I once loved. It reminds me of my fight for the truth, my fight for freedom and my fight for survival that nearly killed me and my unborn child.

May 8th, 2011 Intense lightning wakes me early in the morning, the sound of thunder growling and rain drizzling down the window breaks the silence of the night. It's 5 am. Reaching for my cellphone it buzzes in the palm of my hand "hey stranger" I smile at the screen. "good morning Samantha" Jared smiles "did I wake you?" I shake my head adjusting my pillow as I sit upright. "GOOD MORNING SAMMY!" the screen shakes and a very chipper Shannon appears on screen. "morning Shan" I chuckle adjusting my Cami top and pull the sheets a little higher. "even this early in the morning you look beautiful" he exclaims "oh you charmer" I chuckle rolling my eyes. "shan-give... Ugh.. Shan" I gaze at the screen amused as both brothers fight for the phone. "as much as I love facetiming with you both, I'm getting nauseas watching this." getting up from the bed I put on my robe and head downstairs into the kitchen. As a flash of lightening illuminates the entire room startling me, I nearly drop the phone out of my hands, much to both brothers amusement. "oh you know how I hate these kind of storms" I glare at the screen. "repeat after me Sammy 'fuck you thunder you can suck my di-'." "can she not repeat that?" Jared mutters and I laugh "thunder buddies" I wink at Shannon. Making myself a nice steaming cup of cocoa, I softly blow the hot substance in the cup before taking a sip. "is that.. hot cocoa?" Shannon throws me a very judging look. "you bet it is!" I grin "Home-made, I may add. With Belgian chocolate." Shannon grunts deeply, an unimpressed look on his face. "how. could. you" I giggle licking my lips after another sip. "mmm, so, soo good." "alright enough with the cocoa sex, Shannon can I talk to Samantha?" Jared snatches the phone from his brother. "hello again" I smile "can't wait to be home in a few hours" Jared smiles. "I hope your flight doesn't get cancelled" I sigh admiring the storm through the kitchen window. Jared shrugs "at the moment we're delayed for about an hour. I'll keep you updated." the video call lags and I sigh waiting for the video to stabilize. "So how's my girl doing?" "starting to regret that hot chocola-" a wave of nausea washes over me and I drop my phone on the counter, making a sprint for the bathroom. Dropping to my knees I heave above the toilet, pulling my hair back in a messy tail. Rinsing my mouth with mouthwash I pick my phone back up. The video lags as Jared puts his stuff in the trunk of their cab and ask me if I'm okay, wandering from the group. "Morning sickness" I smile annoyed. I'm 14 weeks pregnant and finally developing the cutest small bump. We've been able to keep it a secret, only Emma knows since I confided in her asking to buy me a test after the VMA’s, since I was too scared to get one myself. I eventually took the test a day after when we arrived in Chicago surprising Jared at the hotel with the news, having my test and a litte “hello daddy” romper placed on his pillow. I haven't joined the guys on tour for the past 3 weeks due to extreme morning sickness, they think I had the flu. Today is the big revelation, I'm picking Jared up at the airport when they return from Canada wearing a grey curve hugging dress emphasizing my small bump. He has only seen my early pregnancy bloat evolving to a bump in pictures. Today is the first time he's actually going to admire our little bump. It's not only a surprise to him, but the rest of the crew and Shannon are still unaware of the pregnancy. This afternoon my mom and Constance are coming over for lunch and we're going to surprise them with the pregnancy news! The storm passes quickly and while rain still trickles down, rays of sunshine seep through the clouds. Planning on leaving home an hour before his estimated arrival, to avoid Los Angeles' famous morning traffic jams, I'm in a hurry to find my keys. Cursing underneath my breath I sigh deeply checking the pockets of my leather jacket with no luck. "Damn pregnancy brain. Think Sammy, think." I check my purse a third time before throwing it on the table. "fuck." There's a soft knock on the door jamb behind me and I spin around in shock "oh no, did I get the time wrong, Jared I'm so-" my breath hitches in my throat as my eyes lock with his "You." I swallow hard. "Hello Samantha." my eyes catch glimpse of the silver keys dangling from his index finger, my keys. I swallow hard "how-how did you get.." "Love is a scary thing babe" tucking the keys into his pocket he strides over and I back up. "Caleb , I need you to leave." I plead. He smirks softly "Did you like all the gifts I sent you?" I stare at him in shock when the penny drops and all the flowers and fucked up gifts are from him. "I'm calling the cops." I warn him, fingers rummaging my purse but I'm unable to trace my phone. "no you won't." he states pulling my phone from his other pocket. In that moment fear and panic wash over me, paralyzing me as within a few strides he's right in front of me, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I miss you" he calmly breathes, hand tracing my curves. Suddenly he tugs at my leather jacket, a deadly glare peering into my eyes. It happens in the blink of an eye but before I can register it I've slapped him hard across the face, it takes him off guard stumbling back, phone falling from his hand. Before I have time to respond and grab my phone or my alarm button his hand violently slip around my throat while he backs me up against the wall, eyes blazing with rage. "a fucking baby?" His grip on my throat tightening. I gasp, digging my nails into his hand and arm trying to get him to ease pressure. “In our 5 years you never felt ready, and with him it takes you less than a year?” he breathes angrily in my face, angry tears in his eyes "Today is the price you pay for having such a good life" his voice is short, clipped and cold. Feeling dizziness set in I scratch my nails across his face to which he releases me. I fall to my knees and cough deeply trying to catch my breath. I want to run, to hide but he's too fast. As I want to grab my phone from the floor he grabs me violently by my hair and I scream loudly. "If I can't have you, nobody will" he spits flinging me to the other side of the room, crashing into the glass table, shattering it on impact. I feel numb, pain surging my entire body. He kneels next to me and brushes my bloodied cheek. "why do you make me do this. This is all your fault Sam." He rubs his temple frustrated. Tears escape my eyes as the person in front of me is a ghost of the man I used to date. "you once promised to keep me safe-" my voice trembles as I speak "And then you decided to fuck Jared Leto" he hisses hunched over me while grabbing my belly. Protecting my baby I backhand him in the face while kicking him in the nuts and spot my phone. "you cheated on me first, shit head" I crawl over as fast as I can, crying out in pain. Trembling and with blood stained hands I grab my phone. "put it down" he barks angrily. Pressing and holding the side button along with the Volume button I activate my SOS setting. The next few seconds pass by in a blur. I'm fighting him off, kicking and screaming until he has me pinned against the couch, my arm twisted behind me, tearing the phone from my grip. "I told you not to" he yanks my head back, gripping my hair and in that moment, I felt trapped, vulnerable and so hopelessly lost. "HELP ME" I kick and scream, hoping the emergency call was activated. "FUCK!" Caleb screams out tossing the phone away "why do you always make things so complicated babe? Why!?" he frantically rubs his face backing up. Afraid to move I slowly press myself up, ribs feeling sore. "I.. I'm sorry" I apologize, slowly crawling away from him. "please, Cabe, I'm sorry" I whisper pulling myself up with the help of a chair. His eyes lock with mine, tears staining them. "Lies!" he cries "LIES." my heart sinks and I freeze on the spot as I register the gun targeted at me. "Don't do this Cabe" I whisper in a plea. "If I can't have you, nobody can." he yells again, a tear falling from his face. "you're mine. You belong to ME." blue and red flashing lights illuminate the room, police sirens filling up the background. "it's over" I whisper "it sure is. I love you Sammy, im so sorry" his voice is soft, his intense yet soul-less stare sends chills down my spine. And then the penetrating sound of a gun being fired echoes the room, my ears ringing, the sound of glass shattering. Caleb collapses on the floor in front of me as police officers storm into the room. It is then that I feel the sharp sting in my abdomen. Looking down, blood stains my dress, trickling down my leg. Caleb had pulled the trigger, he shot me right in my stomach. Cradling my belly I sink to the floor and pass out in shock. Jared received an emergency text upon his arrival at LAX, he immediately knew something was wrong when I didn't respond to his or Shannon's calls. He arrived home, at the horrific scene when they rushed me out on the stretcher, a paramedic straddling me while performing chest compressions. My body limp, pale and covered in blood, face bruised and cut with marks around my neck where he tried strangling me.

Shreds to some of the darkest periods of my life I've unwillingly lived publicly. Paparazzi are vicious, they'll hound you around invading and violating your privacy until the very last drop of juicy information is shared. Media loves dramatizing, But sadly, a picture doesn't show the entire story and is easily manipulated into telling something different. It's an ugly world, one I decided I wanted to take control over.

Caleb was shot into the chest, 7 days post-op he presented signs of a stroke, leaving him in a vegetative state. My healing started the moment they turned off life support, his life support. I got to witness the ventilator being turned off and removal of his breathing tube. In that moment I experienced conflicting emotions, liberating relief but also sadness. It felt wrong to grieve someone that caused me so much pain, his death gave me closure, but I refused to forgive him. I'd been to hell and back and my road to recovery was long, I had to be strong and find myself again while navigating a high-risk pregnancy, yes our miracle baby survived the trauma.

At 34 weeks, unexpectedly early, a beautiful baby girl made her appearance into this world. Our little miracle was small and fragile, weighing in at 2.250kg and 43cm.

October, 2011 Shannon looks up from his computer in shock, his face going pale as I enter the studio. "Oh God, what happened," he breathes pulling the headphones from his head and strides over to where I'm standing, my pajama pants covered in blood. In a heartbeat he is in front of me, holding onto my trembling hands. Cupping my face he calms me "breathe Sammy, breathe." his voice is soft as he looks me straight in the eyes "hey, look at me. You're both going to be okay." I felt like I was going to throw up, falling from one emotion into another. Earlier Jared and I finished up a maternity shoot shot by Shannon. My first pregnancy should have been easy, but since the attack I had been terrified of complications, Caleb robbed me from enjoying the miracle of bringing life into this world. "We're going to the hospital right now" his voice edged with determination. "But your busy with Kristie’s al-” “Sammy don’t you start” Flipping his phone to his ear he ushers me up the stairs and to the garage. “I don't even have my bag." I stumble my words as he pulls the door open and sits me down. “This can't be happening" I close my eyes caressing my bump feeling some sort of tightening cramps.

Arriving at the hospital they immediately take me for an exam and place a heart rate monitor on my belly. "Hang in there little peanut" I whisper to my bump and close my eyes praying. Feeling a hand atop of mine I open my eyes exchanging a glance with Jared. Even though he looked calm, I read panic in his eyes. "I'm here." Things happened so fast from that point on. We were totally unprepared to give birth this early. The baby was in distress, the exam showing a placental abruption and they took me straight in prepping me for an emergency C-section. Lots of people swarmed the OR. It felt like I was trapped in a chaotic nightmare. "It's going to be okay" Jared’s lips brush my temple and wipes away the tear that escapes my eyes. He's sat next to me in yellow scrubs, calm through it all , my rock. I was scared and nervous, this pregnancy has been all but a dream. "I'm sorry" I whisper apologetic "what for?" "not being able to keep this baby safe" he caresses my cheek and shakes his head "I'm so proud of you. You're such a strong woman, you’re such a great mother". Light cries fill the room and I sob in relief hearing our baby crying for the first time. "It's a girl!" after a few long minutes we finally get to meet her briefly, before she's taken up to NICU, as she is placed on my upper chest, swaddled in a blanket. My entire heart fills with love as I admire our little girl. Jared gazes lovingly at us "welcome to the world, Willa"

Becoming parents was extraordinary. Watching Jared settle into his new role as a daddy, his priorities changed so much more than I expected. The first weeks were challenging as we divided our time between visiting our premature girl at the hospital and our new home in Malibu. Jared's Studio City home held too many unwanted memories, too much negative energy, so we relocated to a gated family orientated community in Malibu, leaving the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles behind us. The moment we got to bring our baby girl home, our wonderful journey started and brought Jared and I even closer together. We introduced her to her extended family at the Vyrt streaming of the 300th show touring ‘This is War’. We settled into a 'normal' life the upcoming years as the band took a break from touring. Shannon took time to focus on his son and even made several guest appearances on Kristie’s ‘Dancing with the Devil’ tour.

The celebrity lifestyle, partying and fame, we traded for a modest family life, trying to get as close to ‘normal’ as possible. I put my on-screen work with MTV on hold indefinitely and decided to work more behind the scenes. Time out from the spotlight was liberating, focusing just on our little family. Jared dedicated time to his other career, acting, he filmed a new movie, introducing me to my new girlfriend Rayon. It was quite a shock at first, to be honest I didn’t even recognize him when he had walked into the house wearing a floral dress, blonde wig, false lashes and fuchsia lipstick. It took me a while to get used to the fact she also borrowed some of my dresses and panty hoses. As much as I came to like her, I was glad her appearance was limited.

After the 2 year gap since we last took the road, juggling between life on the road, family and promotions for his movie, our fairly stable life got turned upside down. Kristie’s condition took a turn for the worse and Shannon spend more time with Alec and Kristie in Hospice care, promising he’d never abandon his son. Ryder became the most important person in his life. A few months later I took on another edition of the tour diary as the band lined up a new tour for their brand new album.

January, 2014 A small golden globes pré party was held at our house. Jared had transformed our patio in a private backyard cinema with an outdoor projector. My mother, Constance , Shannon and Kara, Emma and the kids would be watching the show from home. Tucking some strands of my hair back in my dramatic, voluminous pony I glance in the mirror and smile approvingly, touching up my bold burgundy lips. And winged eyeliner. "woaaaaaaah" an enthusiastic Willa sprints down the corridor, coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of me, her eyes big with wonder and mouth open wide. I giggle twirling around making my dress fly up "does mommy look pretty?" her eyes squint shut as she breaks out in a big smile. I laugh squatting down in front of her and tap her protruding belly "shall I take that as a yes?" nodding her head fervently she leans in for a hug "mommy you're so pretty!" kissing the top of her head I stand up straight "let's go find your daddy!" turning around her giggles bounce off the walls as her little feet run down the hall towards the patio. "here's my little princes!" Jared picks up his daughter and twirls her around extracting even more giggles as he tickles her belly. "Am I dressed okay for the occasion?" His gaze lingers on me as I step outside, an elegant long white fit and flare dress hugged my curves, with an off the shoulder neckline and billowing sleeves in organza material. Mesmerized Jared takes me in "A classical beauty" he muses and leans in for a kiss "you're handsome yourself too" I whisper capturing his lips much to Willa’s dismay who pushes me back "yuk" both me and Jared burst out laughing. "oh Samantha" my mother gushes, tears staining her eyes "you look absolutely stunning" I twirl around again and huff in doubt "really? Isn't this too much?" biting my lip I meet Jared's, his brow pulled up in ponder "Samantha you look amazing" he speaks assuring "picture time!" Constance exclaims making me laugh as both mothers are pulling out their mobile phone. "thank god we've got the good camera here too" Jared mutters under a breath motioning at Myke, who's following Jared around the entire day before and after the Golden Globes for 'A day in the life of'. After our short photoshoot it's time for us to head out to the red carpet, but before all the celebrity glamour we experienced some family drama as Willa did not want mommy and daddy to leave throwing a dramatical tantrum. Jared, being the slick negotiator he is, managed to keep a second round of tears and screams at bay. A soft sigh escapes my lips and Jared squeezes my knee softly. "ah the terrible two's, I'm sure she's all forgotten about it already" his blue eyes look at me in a comforting way "she was already playing hide and seek with Shannon and Ryder when you made your way towards the car. " placing my hand atop his I nod softly. Nearing the venue I feel butterflies flutter my stomach. I felt nervous, it had been a while since I graced a red carpet alongside him. "ready for the madness?" Jared's lips grace my temple "thanks for joining me tonight." I turn to meet his loving gaze and nudge him softy "always, I'm so proud of you. You're already my winner" I wink and he laughs deeply "that's all I'll ever need, what am I even doing here?" opening the door for me he extents his hand and I take it. I had forgotten about the buzz on the red carpet and to be honest I had missed the glamour, it felt good to be back. Jared and I posed infront of the photographers but the atmosphere was different around us, he was much more relaxed and affectionate than he had ever been. I caught him fixing the train of my dress so it looked good on pictures, he lovingly embraced me and stole kisses, I even noticed he had stopped posing for pictures and was admiring me from afar, snapping a personal picture with his iPhone. The night passed by quickly and soon enough the announcements were made for the category he was nominated in. Placing my left hand atop his I lace our fingers and squeeze it softly. All air leaves my lungs as his name gets called. Standing up I cup his face and kiss him lovingly "I'm so proud of you".

You don’t always need a plan, sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go and see what happens… And that’s exactly what happened on our special day in 2015. After a very busy and rewarding award and touring season, Jared whisked me away for a romantic getaway at Glen Oaks Big Sur, staying in a secluded cabin tucked away in a redwood grove near a river.

Outstretching my arms above my head I tangle my fingers into Jared’s hair as he leans down for a kiss. “Are you enjoying your bath?” “Very much so, so relaxing after that long hike” I nod approvingly slipping lower into the claw foot bath tub on our secluded porch. “Emma send me a mail regarding some hotel issues for Europe-" “Ugh say no more, be gone” I sigh splashing some water his way making him laugh “I’ll be back in time for dinner” “Oh you better” I mutter closing my eyes relaxing and enjoying the silence. After my bath I head back inside our cabin and find a box and a card on the bed. Closing my robe I sit down and pick up the envelope, Jared’s handwriting addressing me. ‘I love you, will you marry me?’ holding up the card between my fingers I eye it confused. A proposal? But he proposed to me 4 years ago in Paris? “Tonight?” his soft deep voice breaks the silence in the cabin and it startles me slightly. “Jared what- what is this?” he’s stood leaning, admiring me, from afar, his tender blue eyes locking with mine. Pulling his hands from his pockets he pushes off from the wall and walks over to me, kneeling down on one knee. “Jared what are you doing” I roll my eyes mockingly as he shushes me with a finger against the lips. “The past years have been very eventful.. our baby girl, movies, gigs, all the awards... I- I don’t want to waste any more time trying to find an ideal moment away from the madness.” He shakes his head and tilts my chin, thumb grazing my cheek lovingly “The biggest win in my life is having captured your heart, you are my most valued prize. No award can ever compare. Marry me, here, tonight.” I swallow hard trying to find my breath again “I- Yes” A loving smile curls his lips while he leans in and kisses me passionately. “But I… I don’t have a dress, shoes,.. what about-”with a quick peck on the lips he silences me again “Open the box” fumbling with the box my fingers tear of the lid finding the perfect pair of strass crystal embellished Christian Louboutin pumps ‘It was and always will be you’ engraved on the red sole along with today’s date. I sigh his name admiring the pumps a hint of doubt to detect in my voice. “I know you’ve always dreamt of a big ceremony with the entire family and I promise you, we’ll still do one. I promise.” Taking my hand he leads me to the bathroom, there on a hanger is the most stunning dress I have ever laid eyes on. Sparkly and sexy, consisting of white sequin embellished tulle with full skirt, plunging V-neck and low-cut back with fitted sequin tulle sleeves. Grazing my fingers along the tulle I stare at him in shock. Jared grins “Willa picked it out, I guess it must have been the sparkles. But I did agree on it being a marvelous dress” “You took her to a bridal Boutique?” I smack my lips and chuckle at the thought. “Yes, she has an eye for design of fashion, guess she has that from his mother” Jared winks making me break out in a laugh. “Yes, I do hope she doesn’t inherent your sense in style.” Mimicking a hurt expression Jared embraces me close to him and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “So, shall we get married?” he beams “Let’s do this.” My heart skips a beat as I take in my reflection in the mirror. The all over sparkling sheer fabric looks luxurious yet elegant against my tan bodysuit, Jared customized pumps matching perfectly with the gown. My hair is kept loose in subtle curls along with subtle makeup. Exiting the cabin and walking down the steps I call out his name. Jared turning as I do so and as his eyes land on me while tucking his phone into his pocket, he pauses, struck in awe. Soaking me all in, he’s overcome by raw emotion fighting back his tears as they fill up his eyes. Jared looked sharp in his all black tuxedo, hair tuck in a sleek man bun. Exhaling a deep breath he regains his composure “wow” is all he can bring out. Taking my hand in his slightly shaking one, he pushes me backwards a little looking me up and down and then twirls me around. Capturing his cheek with the palm of my hand I rest my forehead against his. He was nervous, and for him, that was rare. “I keep falling in love with you, over and over, each day.” His voice is pure, a soft tremble “when everything is falling apart, you’ll fuel me to keep going on, the best part of me is you. You became the mother of my children and now you’re about to become my wife. I will always stand by your side with unconditional love” I could tell his nerves eased away as I captured his lips with mine in a sweet caress, his tongue sweeps between my lips indulging into a long emotional heartfelt kiss. His hands resting at the small of my back inching me closer to him. Breathless I break from his hold, wiping some smudged lipstick from his lips. It is then that I notice a young brunette and tall guy capturing every moment of our first look with professional camera’s. Clearing my throat I run a hand through my hair “You’re in luck this didn’t turn into an R-rated version” Bursting into a chuckle they introduce themselves as our photographer and videographer for the evening. “I want to capture every single magical moment celebrating our love.” Jared says lacing his fingers with mine. Since then sun was nearly setting Tricia and Rob advice to go for pictures first at the cliffs of big sur. Standing in Jared’s embrace along the rocky coastline, the setting sun reflecting off the beads of my dress and a romantic fog rolling in over the ocean, it feels surreal, as if I’m moving in a dream. I could not feel more beautiful and more happy as in this moment.

With the last of the fading sun through the foggy redwood forest we arrive at the hotel and I shiver when the cool evening breeze hits my skin. Reaching out Jared drapes a fluffy fake fur wrap shawl around me. I halting letting my fingers roam the fur collar “This… this is my mother’s?” there is a hint of mischief and mystery to the grin forming his lips as he leads me down the path of the enchanted looking forest. We reach an outdoor deck with heathers, decorated with a hundred twinkling fairy lights, blush and white baby’s breath and pampas grass and a long formally set table. "Surprise!" startled I turn around to meet my mother, Constance, Shannon & Ryder, Tomo & Vicki, Tim, Gisella & Andrea, Dean, Mason, Kara, Myke & Kellen and Emma holding Willa standing at the end of the deck. I glance at Jared, whom lovingly brushes an escaped tear from my cheek. "I've had this all planned out, you wouldn't honestly think I'd have us married without the most important people near?" Shannon stalks over and spins me around making the sequin tulle skirt fly up "Sammy you are looking mighty fine". "Hello there, sexy momma" Tim laughs and I slap his chest. "Oh Timmeh, I missed you!" pulling me close he kisses my temple “Gis!” I shriek flinging my arms around her “I can’t believe you’re here! YOU KEPT THIS A SECRET FROM ME!?” laughing through her tears she glances at Jared “He’s the mastermind behind all of this!” caressing her belly I glance at Andrea “You’re going to have your hands full when this little one arrives” he grins and kisses Gisella’s temple “I’m coming back home” she pipes. “You’re moving back to Los Angeles?” I stare at her in shock, a second stream of tears filling up my eyes. “Yes!” she exclaims. Drying my tears I crouch down as Willa stalks over to me wearing a bright pink dress, princess crown in her curly locks. “you look so pretty” pulling her into a hug I kiss her and run my hands through her curls “Thank you for picking my dress, I love it” she smiles widely “mommy you’re a real princess!” Jared's hand lands in the small of my back as he crouches down next to me and kisses my temple and taps Willa’s nose “This Prince wants to marry his Princess.” He smiles with a wink and turns to me “Lets get hitched?" he asks me "Finally” I giggle capturing his lips and brush a tear from my mom's cheek while passing her.

It's been one hell of a journey the past decade. I've been hurt in monumental ways and made major life decisions. At 35 I don't regret any decision I've made in the past, I wouldn't trade this life for the world. I'm right where I want to be, where I need to be. I've transformed from a broken, timid girl into a strong, confident woman. Happy and in Love. Until we meet again! Love and miss you all so much!!!

Xoxo Samantha”

---

I glance up from my laptop, a beautiful rich shade of magenta painting the sky, reflecting off the ocean as the sun sets. Running a hand through my soft curly blonde hair, I place my glasses in my hair and close my eyes breathing in the fresh air. Two arms slip around me pulling me into an embrace from behind, his lips warm against my temple. "Happy Marsiversary baby" he muses and I smile turning on my chair. "So you remember" I smile bringing my arms up to cup his face as he sits down next to me and leans in "oh Sammy" his brows arch up "would I ever forget the day this angel walked into my life 10 years ago? Never." his voice is soft and a soft smile tugs his lips. "forever grateful" he muses pressing his lips gentle against mine. I smile and caress his cheek “The kids in bed?” He nods "Still working are we?" Jared asks glancing at the laptop behind me. Chuckling I pat his knee "Some things never change." "What's the latest?" he asks nudging my shoulder and I smile "actually...-" I pause and take my laptop on my lap turning it to him "-I took a trip down memory lane... The latest blog post is... the final excerpt for the Tour Diary." Jared's brows arch up as his eyes scan the drafted blog post in front of him "it's...my…our, honest closure on the chapter" leaning back in my seat I take a sip of my glass of water and run a hand along his shoulder. "If that's okay with you" I reach out, brushing an escaped strand of hair that slipped from his messy man-bun behind his ear. His eyes lock with mine, a soft smile touching his lips. "Fans rarely get a glimpse in our private life, even after acknowledging our relationship all those years ago. We have always been very selective in the family moments we share online and during interviews...” he smiles, hands landing on my growing baby bump. In a few months our family would be complete, after a struggle to get pregnant again, suffering several miscarriages and going through a lengthy adoption process a few years back, we’d be a happy family of five soon. Chuckling slightly feeling a soft kick I place my hand atop his. Jared smiles “I’m ready to share part of it all.” placing the laptop next to him he ushers close to my belly planting a soft kiss “I can’t wait to meet you little Alexander.”

-The End-

(*) Lyrics taken from : Skylar Gray ft Eminem : Love the way you lie pt2 Visual credits to resp. owners

#Welcome to the universe #jammy #Jammy is back #mars fanfiction #dreamingdreamsnevermore #the end #fanfiction #SamanthaMorgan

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magpiewithacamera · 3 years

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My grandmother always had a big ‘thing’ about finishing anything you were working on within the year you started it. The week between Christmas and New Years was full of her crocheting, knitting and sewing as she finished projects quickly. I remember probably about 1971 hurrying to finish a sewed ragdoll, sitting next to her on the couch, as we drank ginger ale and watched the shenanigans in Times Square on the old b&w zenith TV.

I’m going to finish something now, if y’all don’t mind.

These are my friends, who died in this past year. And I said their names at the fountain this month, but I want somebody to know them, to at least know they existed.

First. Saeb. Amazing person. An author. He sold his stories on the street. Like, can you imagine the BRAVERY to stop a stranger, thrust a stapled packet into their hands, and ask them to not only READ your work, in FRONT of you, but then give you “whatever you think it’s worth” as payment?

He was the bravest man I’ve ever met. He died in June. Had a stroke in police custody.

Second. Auntie or Annie. Never sure, she spoke a bit mumbled. The pup’s name was Fifi, tho. That much I do know. She was a crackerjack. Lived in a broken down RV in SoDo. Died because the visiting nurse program she relied on was cut back due to the virus. She wasn’t found for over a week. Fifi died with her, or well, more likely, sometime after her.

I miss you, Annie, and I’m so sorry I never took the time to get to know you better. A 75 year old living on the margins. I’m sure she had an amazing story.

Third. Derek. Busked at the Center. He told me he’d been ‘up and down the world’, sticking mostly to the coasts, for twenty some years. He was always ‘just a week’ away from joining a band, going into rehab, finding an apartment. The first time I met him, he gave me his coat against the cold, it was an April morning and it was foggy and miserable. He was playing ‘warm up’ at 8 am. Another busker there was playing the saw, and the combination of that unearthly sound and his acoustic strumming was magical.

He died in a tent because he couldn’t get admitted for a septic infection of his heart muscle without a ‘current covid test’. He had no car and no way to get to the testing center, early days, it was in Kirkland. He died the day I watched a video of nurses happily doing the ‘safety dance’ to show people how to wear masks. He died alone. Nobody was singing for him.

Fourth. James. He was a flower child born 30 years too late. His smile would light up a room. He played Hendrix for me one night down on the Waterfront on a broken guitar with only 4 strings and he slayed it. His life was always a little psychadelic. He traveled with Roxy, his pup and muse, who used to sleep on my backpack while I listened, talked, took pictures. He told me once “Get good shots, I want my dad to see them someday when I’m famous”. He never told me his dad’s email, though.

You’re famous now, bro. Fly high. Died in July, of an overdose. Intentional? Accidental? No one knows. He was alone.

Fifth. Jose. Had a radar connection to me by some weird Seattle magic. He would show up abruptly at my side nights when I walked through Pioneer Square. “Little Miss, don’t be alone here after dark, please!” No matter how many times I told him I wasn’t afraid, he’d walk with me, bumming cigarettes and cracking bad jokes. The last time I saw him, he was so happy and excited, he’d gotten his license to sell the Real Change. Was going to make enough money to get a room, he said.

Died in July also. Probably overdosed, maybe his heart. He wasn’t found until August, the heat had changed things a bit.

Sixth. Azzy. They were special. Always wore a scarf with stars on it. Lugged a bass around, read tarot cards, composed street poetry and gave ‘advice to the lovelorn’. So brave and so proud and so very free.

Dead of an overdose. Probably accidental. Fentanyl was going around.

I miss you, Azzy. You were the best.

These are the casualties of this year. A year where we closed out the poor and the disenfranchised and Amazon made $2billion in the first two weeks of the pandemic and nurses danced in empty ICUs and politicians argued if $600 wouldn’t make all these poor people lazy.

A year when the last 5 photos I sold were used for friends’ memorials.

A year when I cut a lot of people out of my life because when I cried for my friends I was being melodramatic and ‘didn’t understand’.

There are more, there’s Chastity, and Drummar (who played with James down on the waterfront) and there’s Li’l and the Mayor of Belltown (who could free form recite verse - in proper iambic pentameter, no less - for $10 or $5 or a cigarette). There’s Slim who fixed bikes up in Fremont and Marda who sat with friends through bad trips.

And nobody cares, and that hurts. A lot.

So tonight, when you go ‘hurrah! out with the old year!’ i want you to take a look around and see the empty spaces in the crowds, the same ones I see, where beautiful stars used to shine.

And for the love of god, let’s stop letting each other die. Please.

Happy new year all, may whatever gods there are have mercy on us all.

#annoying personal details that can be skipped

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haveyouseenthis · 4 years

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GO生, Stray Kids | Review PART II

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Pt. II

“...’God’s Menu’ was born”

Every second of the song captivated me. Every scene in the M/V was intriguing and sucked me in. I never rewatch M/Vs - ever. I’ve never been one to stream it a million times for the view count to go up. No way. My attention span is waay too short for that

“God’s Menu”, though.

Wow.

I’ve had to have watched it 40 times since it came out, at least. And the thing is, it’s not my STAY self trying to accumulate views for the boys (although they do deserve it). It’s myself watching it just to watch it. It’s so good. I know exactly what scene is coming, the exact part. I know how the music is about to change and who is going to be center in the next shot, but despite this, it still gives me chills every time.

I think there are a couple reasons for that. One obviously being the song itself, but the other being the phenomenal camerawork. The cameramen and editors have always been the unsung heroes of k-pop and M/Vs in general, but they really outdid themselves this go-around. All the transitions were heavenly. You can tell they didn’t just throw them in there for shock value, but truly thought about where they would have the most impact.

The sets are also amazing. Somehow a transition from kitchen to construction site not only works, but is seamless. All the racetrack scenes also fit in perfectly.

I started to ask myself why these sets worked so well together. What did a master chef’s kitchen, a construction site, and a racetrack have in common? Anything?

Well, maybe more than you think.

All around the world master chefs retreat into their kitchen to experiment with new recipes and cook up ones never seen before. At construction sites blueprints drawn up by architects are used to build amazing towers are intricate buildings. At the racetracks, old stars and rookies are holding onto their fame or making a name for themselves, fighting for the lead on every lap.

Stray Kids are cooking up their hits in the kitchen, laying the foundation for their success with their hardhats on, and then accelerating past all the competition.

As previously stated, “God’s Menu” is their best song, hands down. But every song on the album brings something to the table. Because of this, GO生 might just be their best release yet…

My Top Five:

神메뉴 (God’s Menu)

Easy

비행기 (Airplane)

청사진 (Blueprint)

일상 (Another Day/Daily Life)

“God’s Menu” was hard-hitting hip hop in a way I haven’t heard or seen before from SKZ. As I’ve already said, it’s easily the best song they’ve released, including B-sides. Every verse is well crafted, the pre-chorus is catchy and serves as the nice mellow tone the song needed for the vocalists to really shine, and the chorus is a masterpiece of simple onamonapia and tangy flavor (see what I did there~) with strong choreography. The song is shockingly short, especially considering it’s a title track. However, it still feels solid. It’s a full course meal in less than three minutes. That’s so impressive, to me at least. I can’t be the only one who feels like the song is much longer than it is because it’s so immersive.

My favorite parts include Changbin’s “Yes, sir and ma’am / welcome” intro, the first verse, and the second verse. Changbin’s intro sets the tone immediately. The “sir and ma’am” is almost sassy in context. It’s like he’s truly welcoming us into a restaurant, but there is that eerie undertone of “you don’t know what you’re in for”. I love that Han gets to rap the entire first verse. Not only does it make sense because he is a main rapper, but it sounds better than if it has been split between several people as verse 2 had. There is a clear split about halfway through the first verse where they could have switched to another member, but they stayed with Han, and I think that makes the song so much more powerful, especially since it comes at the beginning. Unlike verse one, verse two splits its lines between five different members. And it works perfectly. I wouldn’t have changed anything at all. Felix’s low voice oozes charisma and is the perfect way to pull listeners deeper into the song after the chorus, and Seungmin and I.N.’s cocky, drawing sound pairs perfectly with that. Chan’s voice and attitude fits wonderfully for his “자물쇠 따 싹 다 unlock / Idea bank 머릿속을 털어 털어” (“All the locks unlock / Idea bank, empty your head, empty it”) part. It’s also a fitting part for him as the main producer of the group. Hyunjin is the perfect person to wrap up the verse. His demanding attitude paired with his visuals as he says “비밀재료가 궁금하다면 / 사실 우린 그딴 거 안 써” (“Wonder what’s our secret ingredient / We don’t use such a thing”) deliver the line in a way no one else in the group could.

And, can we talk about that line for a minute, T? What a statement. It’s on the same flex level as “Daechwita”. “Oh, how are we so good? What’s our secret? How are we cutting corners to get here? We aren’t.”

I also really like that “Go Live,” “God’s Menu,” and “Easy,” feel like a trilogy. It’s a nice way to start the album because it gets the listener immersed immediately.

To have“Easy” follow “God’s Menu” is maybe the best decision made on this tracklist. Still just as proud and cocky as its predecessor, “Easy” talks about how Stray Kid’s don’t just turn the tables or meet expectations, they flip the table over and exceed the expectations - all with ease.

My favorite part in “Easy” is the bridge, and I’ve found a few different translations of it:

Zaty Farhani’s “Easy” lyric video translates the bridge as “Showing off is all for show, what are you doing getting all scared? / The brave ugly-duckling turns the table / Let’s raise the stakes as you’ve wished / or do it my way”

Color Coded Lyrics’s (CCL) blog translates it as: “What’s the point of being braggy / When you’re just eating up your fear / A loser with courage will turn the tables around / Let’s make it to the next round, as you want / Or I’ll mess around with my own way”

Genius Lyrics translates the part as: “Your words are just bragging / What are you doing while being all coward? / A brave loser has overtook everything / Let's make this game even more big as you wanted / Or just screw it and do it my way”

All of them amount to about the same thing: “You have to show off and brag to prove your worth and rise to the top but we don’t. We know where we came from, and we know what we are, but we will go farther because of this. We’ll take over the world our way,”.

“비행기 (Airplane)” ends the “Go-God’s-Easy” trilogy with it’s lighter hip-hop sound. It’s a love song. The narrator speaks of taking an airplane to a vacation spot with his girlfriend as a metaphor for the two of them traveling to their own world where they can be happy together. What really draws me to this song is its style and sound. The track reminds me a little of “Mixtape : Gone Days”, with it’s lighter feel. It’s a nice example of a lighthearted love song. I don’t have as much to say about this one, I just really like it. There isn’t any deep meaning in the lyrics for me to dive into (unless you’re into speculating the composer's relationship status. Bang Chan and Changbin wrote “Airplane” in collaboration with others so it’s possible the lyrics came from them or one of the other three composers. Maybe all of them are just good enough at imagining situations to write things like this. We’ll never know.)

“청사진 (Blueprint)” comes in 4th for me, but really 3rd-5th place may as well be equal. The three songs have the same energy to me, especially “Blueprint” and “Airplane”. I like “Blueprint” for its folk-inspired pop sound. It reminds me of AKMU, which I’m sure T digs. It’s not SKZ’s usual sound, but they sing it well and have made it their own. I smile every time it comes on. The lyrics have a wonderful message about overcoming and accomplishing your dreams despite the odds and the people out to get you. Very sweet, and the message reminds me of that of many of their old songs.

“일상 (Another Day/Daily Life)” is the closest thing to a ballad we’ve gotten from the boys.

The beginning count reminds me of NCT 127’s “Boom” and the overall sound reminds me of NCT Dream’s “Puzzle Piece”.

While the first time I listened to it I could easily tell it was a sad and mournful song about something, I wasn’t expecting to tear up while reading the lyrics on my 3rd listen.

It hurts so much. It’s so beautiful. The song tells the story of the narrator (Han wrote it, it’s absolutely about him and his anxiety) as he reflects on himself and his situation, wondering if he’s the only one feeling the way he is, wondering if he is the only one putting on an act every day, and wondering if it’s evening convincing.

But I guess that painfully beautiful tune fits with the message. The notes are so sweet they make you want to cry. And that’s how it feels to go through what the narrator is dealing with. Everything you’re doing looks beautiful. You seem perfect, but if anyone really takes time to listen, they will hear your hurt.

He was a young teenager and was forced to deal with so many pressures (“I’m still so young, but I have so many worries”/”So much worries for such a young child”) during training, and then debut.

After that line, we get to the hard truth of the industry. Of course companies care about their idols, but only to a point. After that, it’s “Just do what you're supposed to be doing well” and “Just do your job properly”. In other words, “Okay, great, you’re going through something. Get over it.”.

CCL translation: “When I pushed my way into this dark room / Did anybody bother to look back at me? / I barely managed to make it through this hard day / How many times did I smile, and were they genuine smiles? // I find the way I’m trapped in my thoughts funny / I’m still so young, but I have so many worries / Just do what you’re supposed to be doing well / Nobody knows anything about how empty my heart feels / And I hate how / All they know how to do is laugh it off”

Genius translation: “The day I forced my way into the dark room / Would at least one person have turned to look at me / Me, who barely lived through another day / How many times have I laughed, but were those sincere? // Myself deep in thought looks funny / So much worries for such a young child / Just do your job properly / Without knowing about my empty heart / Just laughing over it, I don't like that”

I think it’s fitting that the only parts Han gets opens and close the song. It just draws more attention to the fact that it’s his story. He’s opening the door for him and others to talk about their feelings, and once they’ve covered it all, he closes it back up.

I don’t have too many complaints about this album. A couple, maybe.

One would be that “TOP”, “SLUMP”, “Mixtape : Gone Days”, and “Mixtape : On Track/바보라도 알아” were released separate from this album, so they stick out from the other 10 tracks. I’m glad they were all grouped together at the end and not sporadically placed between songs like “Easy” and “Pacemaker”.

“Gone Days” sticks out the most because of its playful hip-hoppy sound that is reminiscent of previous tracks such as “Awkward Silence” and “Get Cool”. I’m not particularly fond of the fact that it is the only one that sounds as it does, but I suppose it is just the same thing they did with “Get Cool” and “Awkward Silence”’s respective mini albums. Both songs were the only ones of their kind on their albums and feel a little out of place. I think I was able to get accustomed to it quicker as being on mini albums there was a smaller tracklist, therefore drastic tone changes between songs weren’t as novel.

Go Live’s sound alternates (mainly) between two different styles. There are louder, harder hip-hop songs like “God’s Menu” “TA” and “Pacemaker”, and then we have what I’ve dubbed “The Quiet Trilogy” with “Airplane”, “Another Day”, and “Blueprint”. Songs like “Phobia” and “Haven” seen to sit solidly in between the two styles.

But “Gone Days” and “On Track” don’t sound like anything else on this tracklist. “Gone Days” has an over-saturated upbeat take on hip-hop, and “On Track” has a ballad inspired sound (honestly it vaguely reminds me of OSTs for dramas…) to it. This makes the transition from beginning of album to end shocking, and I’m not overly fond of that.

My other issue is that the rest of the track-list simply pales in comparison to its title track. “God’s Menu” was so powerful, so overwhelming for me that it made the rest of the album underwhelming.

Maybe that’s a compliment, actually? At least as far as “God’s” is concerned. I don’t know…

I think I’ll get used to it after a few more listens. (Future Kasin: I did and I love it <3)

One thing is for sure: if they master making every song deliver the same punch as “God’s Menu”, I’ll be done for.

I can’t wait to see what they do next.

Go Live on Spotify

Links PT II:

神메뉴 (God’s Menu) Lyrics (Han/Rom/Eng)

“Easy” lyric video

Color Coded Lyrics Stray Kids Discography

Color Coded Lyrics Stray Kids “Easy”

Genius Lyrics Stray Kids “Easy” English translation

Color Coded Lyrics Stray Kids “비행기 (Airplane)”

Genius Lyrics Stray Kids “비행기 (Airplane)”

Color Coded Lyrics “청사진 (Blueprint)”

Genius Lyrics “청사진 (Blueprint)”

NCT 127 Boom

NCT Dream Puzzle Piece

Color Coded Lyrics “일상 (Another Day/Daily Life)”

Part I

#stray kids #go生 #神메뉴 #god's menu #jyp entertainment #kpop #music #kasin #review

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

Text

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Fourteen)

Words: 3094

Warning: Usual JW-verse violence, minor swearing

A/N: This is the second to the last chapter of this series. Sorry for the late update, but hopefully you’ll enjoy it.

Previously: It was time to settle the chaos once and for all, to stop the brewing war before any more could get hurt. You helped save the Continental and finally spoke to the Adjudicator and made a deal. Will it change anything? It was up to the Elder to decide.

Persephone Series Masterlist

You cleared your name and told the Adjudicator of Gavriil Sokolov. You avoided mentioning the Romanovas’ involvement and left out John, saying that the Bowery King was the one that helped your recovery and asked for your aid in return.

The Adjudicator crossed their arms. “I have also had been made aware of the incident five years ago. I’m sure you know which one,” they said, tilting their head slightly.

You inhaled sharply, then nodded. “Yes, that one, when I killed a civilian.”

“Normally, that kind of behavior deserves punishment, but as it were, you have spent those five years unaware of being a prisoner under the orders of the former Instructor, so I’m willing to give you some form of forgiveness.”

“Thank you.”

“But,” they said, looking at you pointedly, “Tell me where John Wick is and I will not punish you for not only associating with an excommunicado, but also conspiring against the High Table.”

You looked over at Winston, who had remained quiet during the interrogation. He shrugged, as if to say that it was up to you to decide. You looked back at the Adjudicator and stood your ground. “If I do know where John Wick is, and if I do bring him in, what will you do with him?” you asked.

“That is none of your concern.”

“That is very much my concern.”

They gave you a stern look. “Well, then it seems that you will have to stand trial with Mr. Wick, as the Elder will be requesting his presence after he turned against the High Table immediately after swearing fealty. There is no way around this, Miss (Y/l/n). After you have made an argument about our current system, I will ask the Elder to consider hearing your case, as it is him that you will need to convince to amend the rules. Is that understood?”

You grounded your teeth before nodding. “Yes… I understand.”

The Adjudicator turned away. “Good. Call John Wick over and we will send you immediately to meet the Elder.”

They walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Winston. “You know that this will go one out of two ways,” Winston said.

“I know, but it’s something,” you said, accepting a glass from Winston.

“You should bring John Wick before he gets into more trouble.”

You sighed, knocking the drink back and looked out the window. John was nowhere in sight, which meant that trouble had already found him.

The cemetery was silent, save for the small pattering of rain droplets falling off of tree leaves. A motorcycle engine cuts through and parks outside of the gravelly entrance. John remained on the bike even after he cut the engine and you, having held onto him, felt him release a heavy sigh. You weren’t sure if he needed space, so you started to remove your arms away when he held your hands down against his stomach.

“Just give me a minute,” he mumbled, “and… stay like this.”

“Okay,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around him again and resting your cheek on his broad shoulders, “okay.”

You feel him breath in deeply, then exhaled slowly. He repeated this breathing exercise several times and you found yourself falling into sync with him until he eventually squeezed your hands You straightened up and got off first, followed by John who kicked the stand up on the bike.

He looked towards the metal gates, then took your hand. “Ready to meet her?” he asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly.

John led you into the cemetery, his feet automatically carrying him to a headstone that had a few bits of freshly cut grass stuck from the rain. He crouched down and brushed them away, his left hand with the missing ring finger resting over the name ‘Helen Wick’. His head hung low and you stood back to give him space, keeping an eye on your surroundings.

He swallowed, and said, “Could you give me some time first?”

You nodded. “Of course. I’ll wander close by,” you said, then adjusted the straps on your backpack that was over the strap of your katana’s sheath. “Do you want them now or later?”

“Later.”

You nodded again and walked away, taking in the sight of the morning mist slowly fading as the run climbed up the sky, the dew drops that sprinkled the cut grass making your boots and the cuffs of your pants wet. As you walked down the rows, you noticed how the grassy path before you was freshly cleared of any droplets. You stopped to scan the area and check on John before following the trail quietly.

When John had finished talking to Helen alone, he raised his eyes and turned to call you over. He quickly stood up when you were nowhere in sight. He went to go and find you when you emerged from the trees and bushes with your katana drawn. You slid it back into the sheath and made your way over to him, leaving a pile of assassins’ bodies covered in deep cuts, the blade having sliced through quick enough to be clean, all under fallen branches and vines. You had found them crouching in the shadows, aiming a sniper at John until you attacked them.

“Everything alright?” John asked, his brows furrowed as you adjusted your hair and smiled at him. He plucked a leaf from hair and tossed it aside.

“Yeah, all good,” you said, patting him on the chest reassuringly before walking passed him.

You crouched in front of Helen’s grave and saw a folded picture of John and Helen propped against the headstone. He looked so happy and relaxed, nothing like the assassin you knew him as, but you did get a glimpse of this side of him. Nothing could ever come close to what he and Helen had, but it was something.

John leaned next to you and nodded. You turned back to the headstone and smiled. “Hi, I’m (Y/n), a friend of John’s. You must be very special to get the Boogeyman to leave the Underworld. He’s a wreck without any impulse control holding him back,” you pause to nudge him with your elbow, “but don’t worry. I’ll try my best to look after him. He needs to stop running off by himself, though. He’s worse than the dog, really.”

You shifted around and lowered your head and continued in a lower voice, “There’s a lot going on right now… I just hope I’m choosing right. At least it’s my choice, though, right? I… I’ve strayed from everything that I’ve worked towards after I’ve tried to piece everything together. Now we’re going to face a powerful and dangerous man, and…” You trailed off, not knowing where you were going with this.

John squeezed your hand as a breeze blew through the cemetery. A warm touch brushed your cheek and one look from John, you could tell that he felt it, too.

You gripped the armrests as the private jet took off from the runway, avoiding John’s teasing eyes as he sat across from you with a drink in hand. You raised your eyes towards the bright ceiling before making yourself look out the window. Your mind knows that you’ve traveled many times before, but take off was never fun.

“Want a drink?” John asked, smirking as he poured you a glass.

“I’m glad you find amusement in my discomfort after I agreed to bring you to the Elder where he’ll probably shoot us down,” you muttered.

“We can try to kill everyone.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You accepted the drink from him and actually considered his suggestion. “Maybe… that could be Plan C.”

“Thought you’d say Plan D. What was Plan B?”

“Um… I don’t know. I was hoping to wing it,” you said, sipping on the warming liquid.

You sighed, looking around the jet for something to do. There was nothing but the pilots in the cockpit and the two guards, one by the exit and other by the cockpit. You took another sip and looked at John who was composed as always. He was looking out the window, but his eyes would dart around every time he sensed movement, his muscles tensing and readying to jump into action. He turned and saw the bored pout on your face.

“Couple hours of this left,” he said.

You sighed again, leaning your head on your hand and lifted your foot to run along the inside of John’s leg. His fingers wrapped around your ankle and held you there, his eyes darkening and daring you to test him.

“Fine, I’ll sleep.”

The jet landed in the middle of nowhere, sand stretching out on every side pass the horizon. The armed men shoved John out of the jet first.

“You know what to do,” one of them said, jerking his head forward to start walking.

John glared at them before turning to you. “Let’s go,” he said.

You looked back at the men who watched you two closely, then at the sand dunes in front. “Where?”

“Follow me.”

You nodded, walking up to stand next to him. The other man grabbed your arm and held you back.

“Wait,” he said, “the Elder requests that Mr. Wick lead you to him, but he cannot turn back to see if you’re following. If he does, you will be shot. No talking. No touching. We have eyes and ears everywhere. We will know.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, looking over at John for his reaction. He had no reason to trust that they’d release you once he starts walking and he had no way of knowing if you would be able to keep up with him.

“You want to leave the Underworld, that’s how it’s going to be,” the man said.

“Could we at least talk before we go?” John asked. The man nodded, but didn’t release your arm.

John sighed in exasperation before grabbing your other arm, pulling you to his chest and capturing your lips. You gripped his jacket to pull him closer, relishing in the scratch of his beard and the spitefulness of the act. When they cleared their throat out of discomfort, John’s tongue brushed your lip, asking for entrance. You open your mouth a bit more to let him in, a moan escaping you. His hand slid from your arm to your thigh, pulling you flushed against him, your arms shooting out to wrap around his neck for balance.

When you pulled away for air, the man yanked your arm and pointed his rifle at John. He grunted, holding his hands out and walked forward. The man waited until John was a couple of paces forward before leaning in close to your ear.

“If John Wick refuses the Elder’s proposal again, you are to shoot him,” he whispered.

“And if I refuse to shoot him?”

“Then you’ll be shot, too.”

“That’s very creative.”

He pushed you forward after your remarks and urged you to keep walking with the wave of his rifle. You rolled your eyes and paced yourself to catch up with John, keeping a small distance behind him.

John knew how to get to the Elder, so you had to trust him in going the right direction and for how long. The desert sun was melting your energy, having it seep into the sand below, your footsteps growing heavier the longer you and John walked. He was a tall man and it was obvious when he was also starting to stagger, but he kept going anyways. You wanted to call out to him, to reach for him, but you knew you couldn’t. You didn’t want to test if the Elder really had people out there, watching.

As the sun lowered in the sky, you were considering on stopping for a moment to catch your breath when John swayed as he reached the crest of a large sand dune. You ran to catch up with him, forcing your eyes to stay open as you struggled through the sand, already feeling lightheaded. It was like a dream, running through sand and unable to see, speak, or breathe.

John finally collapsed, his body sliding down the dune. You stumbled and fell as you reached the dune, attempting to crawl to reach him. Your vision began to blur, your arms giving out three feet away from him. The last thing you saw was a figure poking their head down at the sand dune.

This was not how you imagined meeting the Elder. Light fragrance wafted in through the small room, soft fabrics cushioned under you, and a tray with a tall glass of water sat next to your head. You sat up slowly, holding your head as the room began to spin before reaching for the glass. You could hear John’s low rumbling voice from outside, followed by another man’s voice.

“You’re awake,” you heard a woman’s voice said. She stood in the doorway, wearing a white and red robe, a cloth covering the lower half of her face. “The Elder is willing to listen to your proposal.”

You follow her out of the room into a longer area of the tent-like structure, open to the calm breeze of the desert with armed men guarding each corner, a thick rug covering the ground and adorned with fluffy patterned pillows. At the end of the tent sat a man in an ornate chair, light colored robes made out of the finest material, a stern face watching you enter. In front of him stood John, his head hanging low, his hands curled into shaking fists. He stopped and turned to see you, his expression softening only for a brief second.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n),” the Elder said, gesturing you forward, “There is a disturbance in our shrouded world and I hear you seek to fix it. How so?”

“So you’ve heard about Gavriil Sokolov?” you asked hoarsely, clearing your throat.

He gave a small nod. “So I’ve heard from my representative. Why is it that you wish to come to me instead of having your friends in the High Table to deal with it. What do you gain from this? What is it that you want?”

“While I agree that our world needs rules, those rules need amending, or else more people will seek to take down the system that made them. It has already begun and Sokolov’s influence is spreading,” you said.

“Were you and, Mr. Wick not one of those that sought to take down the High Table?” the Elder asked.

“Our targets were only those on top, those who hold connections to the High Table to sway the balance in power. We were not about to involve anyone else.”

He hummed, standing up slowly from his chair and walks toward you. “You speak of rules, yet the two of you had broken many. Why should I consider this proposal?”

“I want to leave this life behind, but I fear I won’t rest well if I leave it in this state. I was groomed in it, I was imprisoned by it, and after all that, I no longer no who I am… but I want to. I don’t want to kill anymore. That had never been me, I know that much.” The Elder nods and gestures for you to continue. “The world is changing and, honestly, the system has not. Power being kept within families and grow stronger and stronger while the others either serve or thirst for power of their own. Greed has been stronger than ever before and people are willing to bend the rules or break them to get it. This recklessness has even led our world to cause alarm among the civilians, killing them, even. If I were to have my own ounce of greed, it would be to live quietly and peacefully.”

“I understand,” he said, then turns to John, “And you? You have disobeyed my orders to kill Winston after you’ve swore fealty to the High Table. You once said that you wish to live to keep the memory of your beloved wife, Helen, alive. Has your desires changed?”

“My desires are merely… altered. While I wish to live on for Helen, deep down I know that she would not want me to continue to live this type of life,” John pauses to look at his missing finger, “I know that no matter what I do, I will eventually die, as we all will, from one way or another. Who we are when we die matters. I do not wish to die as Baba Yaga, who I had left to be with her. I want to tie up the loose strings that keep dragging me back here.”

The Elder nods, looking between you two before walking back to his chair. “Nothing is given without a price, you both know this,” he said, then gestures for the woman who woke you to step forward. She stepped forward, holding a box to you. The Elder holds a hand out, urging you to open it.

You looked over at John, then slowly unlatched the lock and lifted the lid. Inside were two small handguns, a bullet next to each one. Of course, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy talking to the Elder. One look at John’s hand and you knew that there was going to be a sacrifice if you want your wishes to be granted.

“You want to prove that you will honor your word, that once I send you to deal with Sokolov, that you will deal with him? It is very straightforward,” the Elder said, leaning forward, “You will each have a gun. One bullet in the chamber. If you are willing to do anything to leave this life, you will have to be willing to cut ties with this life. Right here and now, prove yourself. Who you decide to shoot will decide your fate.”

You inhaled sharply, then took one of the guns. It was small, but felt heavy in your hands. The woman handed you the bullet and you loaded it into the chamber. The words from earlier played in your head, “If John Wick refuses the Elder’s proposal again, you are to shoot him”. Was this what he was referring to? If John refuses to shoot you, do you have to shoot him?

There was a familiar click, the loading of a gun, and by the time you looked up, you were staring down the barrel of a gun.

Taglist: @venusgothic @weappreciatepower @anita-e-taylor @xmisssnowwhitex @mikaneonox @sparrowsparrow @introvertedmegalomaniac @tomhardy41 @red-pill-blue-pill

#John Wick #john wick imagines #john wick x reader #Persephone #Persephone P14 #keanu reeves imagines #Keanu Reeves #Guess who's been listening to Hadestown again lol

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golden-van-fleet · 5 years

Text

Your Song

Summary: Gwilym has loved you for a long time and will continue to.

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: Hi! I needed to write about Gwilym. I’m not sure about the format? Also on mobile for this one. Enjoy!

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

Despite Gwilym being an actor, his fatal flaw was his inability to hide what was on his mind. The entire world knew how he felt about you, except for, well, you. It made his stomach turn, to see you with a man that wasn’t him, holding his hand, kissing his cheek, calling him “babe”. He hoped, wished, and prayed desperately to be that man.

I don’t have much money, but boy if I did

I’d buy a big house where we both could live

He knew you wanted a big house in the countryside. It’d been your dream for as long as either of you could remember. In fact, it was the first thing he bought with his paycheck from Bohemian Rhapsody. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of the two of you living there like Allie and Noah in The Notebook. He didn’t want to buy your love, per se, but if he could afford what you wanted, he wanted to be able to spoil you. For only being your best friend, he treated you a hell of a lot better than that boyfriend of yours ever could. Any of them, really.

And it wasn’t lost on you. You’d lost a couple boyfriends because they felt they couldn’t compete with Gwilym, and they couldn’t. Gwilym was over the top for you and only for you. When he bought the house, you were stunned. He constantly had you over, one of the guest rooms unofficially becoming your room. You’d been by his side before the fame and the fortune, it was only fair in his eyes that you were still there after it.

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one’s for you

Every performance he did as Brian May was with you in mind. Gwilym was willing to go to the ends of the earth to prove that he was worthy of your love, to prove to you that he was the one you needed. He knew, rationally, you never needed a man to be happy or to succeed. He also knew, selfishly, that he was the one for you. This was a man willing to bend over backwards for you at any given moment, knowing you would do the same.

And you can tell everybody that this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it’s done

I hope you don’t mind,

I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world

The day you met was a day he’d never forget. Your eyes piercing back into his own, a stare that sent a delicious shiver down his spine. It wasn’t a malicious stare, it was one of amusement. You were working at a local coffee shop while finishing your bachelor’s degree around the same time Gwilym began filming one of many up and coming projects. He’d come in with an agenda, a man on a mission, but when his eyes met yours, he babbled like an infant. You were so kind, you didn’t make fun of him, you smiled a little and let him compose himself.

Ever since that day, he made a point to visit you at work, seated at one of the tables in the corner as long as he could be without disturbing you, your coworkers, or the other patrons. You found it sweet, and your heart ached to get to know him.

So you did. He’d been to your apartment more times than the members of your family had over the course of the next year. It was around that year mark Gwilym realized he couldn’t live without you. It was also around the time you’d started your string of terrible boyfriends.

Gwilym couldn’t thank you enough for changing his quality of life. You breathed a life into everything that he’d never been able to find. Life by your side was beautiful. You never let him dwell on the bad, and as hard as it could be to find the good sometimes, he always tried. If not for his sake, then for yours.

I sat on the roof, and kicked off the moss

Well, a few of the verses, well they’ve got me quite cross

He had to tell you. He couldn’t say it to your face, but he couldn’t not say it to your face. He wrote letter after letter, page after page, hoping that something, anything would encapsulate his feelings about you. Late night after late night, he failed to document exactly what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to plan out what he wanted to say, but he needed it to be everything he’d had on his mind for years.

When you showed up at his door during one of those late nights, he told himself as soon as he opened the door he’d tell you. What he didn’t expect was to see you sobbing, throwing yourself at him. He caught you before you could hit the floor, catching a glimpse of you before you buried your face into his shoulder. Your eyes were puffy and swollen with tears, your face red and stained with tear tracks. It absolutely broke his heart.

“He broke up with me,” you whimpered. “Almost two years, I thought I was going to marry this man, and then suddenly I’m not good enough?”

But if only you knew how good enough you were. Gwilym saw the sun rise and set within you. You were the very center of his universe. He couldn’t tell you now, you’d just had your heart broken. He could try, in vain, to tell you how wonderful he found you and about the total joy you brought to his life, but his dark secret would have to wait a little longer.

You climbed out onto the roof outside the guest room window, the full moon hanging bright above your head. There was a gentle, almost imperceptible breeze floating through the summer night. This was your favorite part of the house. It was your hideaway, wrapped around the back of the house with a full view of the river in the background. It felt as though time stood still when you were there. You found yourself lost in the peacefulness of it all until Gwilym squeezed himself through the window frame to sit with you.

“He thought you and I had something going on on the side. I told him that you were my best friend, that you always would be, that without you there is no me. And he was jealous.” You sniffled, the tears of sadness now transformed to tears of resentment. “But maybe he had a reason to be jealous. You’re all I need in my life.”

Gwilym was nothing short of stunned. That was the first time in his life that he was utterly lost for words.

“I- I can’t be your rebound, Y/N. I’ve loved you for far too long to let myself be who builds you up for someone else to tear back down. You mean too much to me for that.” He felt a tear slip down his cheek. His heart was on the line. As much as he wanted to be with you immediately, to hold you in his arms and never let go, he couldn’t. Not right now.

“I’m not saying I want to jump from him to you. But I did a lot of thinking on the drive over here. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been this support, this rock, and I can’t help but feel I’ve taken it for granted. And for that, I’m so sorry. I know the way you look at me when I’m not looking because I look at you the same way. I always have. And maybe I was too afraid of ruining what we had built up so beautifully. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but they were laying bricks every hour, and that’s what we did. We’re still doing it. So if you’ll let me, I’d like to keep building it, I want to know that it’s not going to go away after tonight.”

He forced himself to look at you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. It would never go away. It couldn’t.

But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song

It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

Over the course of the following months, your relationship bloomed into the blossom it was destined to be. The dark cloud that hung over Gwilym’s head had finally given way to the warm rays of the sun, and he embraced them fully. Loving you was diving head first into a pool that had no bottom. There was always a new depth to be reached, and when he thought he’d reached his capacity, there was always more.

You noticed the change, welcomed it, and encouraged it. Gwilym was finally back to the man he was when you first met. The man that you thought you were going to fall in love with. However, you’d hung that up when he brought over one of his girlfriends, unannounced, to your flat the night you were going to tell him how you felt. It crushed you, but you couldn’t tell him that. To know that now, it wouldn’t happen again, he was yours? It was heaven in and of itself.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do

You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

He had to ask you to marry him. He made up his mind before the two of you had even been together six months. It took half a lifetime, or so he thought, to get with you in the first place. Hell, you’d moved in together after two months together, what difference would it make?

He found himself in the same position he was years and years prior, back in that tiny coffee shop. Your eyes were focused intently on his, your smile kind and your hand relaxed in his. Gwilym was in his element, at home, alone, with you. And there, in the comfort of your shared bed, he was going to ask you to be his wife, and he couldn’t choke the words out. All he could do was present you with the ring first.

“Marry me. Please,” he added, softening what sounded like a demand.

“Easily,” you smiled, pulling his face towards yours and locking your lips into a breathless kiss. “I would marry you a million times over.”

He found himself in the same predicament when it came to your vows.

“I’m not usually one to forget what I’m saying before I say it, but you look so beautiful I can’t help myself,” he began, chuckling as he bashfully wiped away a tear. “I had this whole thing planned about how you were the one for me and I knew from the moment I met you, but even to this day you render me speechless. So forgive me if I cut this a bit short, but I’d really love to call you my wife sooner rather than later.”

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

When your daughter was born with your bright, beautiful eyes, Gwilym cried more than he ever thought he would. He was so gentle with her, so gentle with you… You couldn’t love him more if you tried.

Despite having your eyes, your daughter was Gwilym’s clone. She had her father wrapped around her tiny little finger from the first cry she let out the day she was born. Gwilym immediately switched into protective dad mode, refusing to let her go without a fight. Unless she was going to you, of course. But even that took a little convincing.

One night, about three weeks after she was born, Gwilym got up in the middle of the night to tend to her. He took the wailing newborn out of her bassinet in your bedroom to the rocking chair in what would be her nursery.

“Alright, love, it’s okay.” He’d done everything he could think of to soothe her and nothing was working, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake you. He unbuttoned the front of her onesie, placing the newborn over his heart. He’d been told to try skin to skin bonding whenever he could, and by some miracle, it calmed her down.

Gwilym didn’t realize he was humming until he started to sing lyrics to a song he didn’t realize he knew.

I hope you don't mind,

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Your song had had its share of wrong notes and tweaked lyrics. It conveyed a full spectrum of emotions, highlighting the ups and the downs that came with life and love. Your song was unique, and Gwilym was blessed to share it with you.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwil #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fluff #dad!gwilym

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imperialsea-a · 5 years

Text

ELIZABETH’S IN-DEPTH RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET.

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Rem (not that blue-haired anime girl or DN, it’s from my old blog!) OOC Contact: Contact me through the Tumblr IM system or my Discord! My Discord is: imperialsea#1818. Please tell me your URL if you message me there so I know who you are!

Now, onto the heart of the post!

♛ Who the heck is my muse, anyway? Elizabeth Eva Alexandria Cross, the only biological daughter of Kaien Cross, her father (a canon vk char), and Eva Liliya Cherie Cross, her mother (an oc muse)! Elizabeth is a vampire hunter by blood like all in her family before her! But, shh! Your character isn't supposed to know that . . . unless they're also a hunter . . . or a perhaps a vampire (since her family from both sides are famous hunters, but even then they don't have to know she's a vamp killer if you don't want them to) . . . or they're some sort of ally to her / the hunters association since she can't just tell anyone her actual work on a whim. Where she's from, the existence of vampires are a secret from most of humanity and it's her job to kill the dangerous people-hurty ones and keep that nice and secret so as to avoid a world war! 'Nothing about her is complicated at all', I say, lying through my teeth like Bethy does to society every day by keeping her job and true lifestyle hidden :'D

Further information below the cut, please take time to read if you’re stuck on what to plot and how Bethy operates!

♛ Points of Interest: - She was born and raised to fight against unruly beasts and composed foes alike. Despite her youth, she's a one-woman powerhouse and is not afraid to take herself down with an opponent if she deems it necessary. She's like the Smash player who hits the fake smash ball to take out an enemy on their last legs, even at the expense of her own life. She'll do it! Except in Smash she'd probably just win the match because she had an extra life and not, you know, not die forever for real in a last grand battle.

- She's got vamp genes all over the place and is rare among hunters. She's biologically immortal like a Pureblood despite not being a vampire herself and is living testimony of what her predecessors took from Purebloods both by honorable bestowal of blood from the mysterious Hooded Woman, and straight up [insert painting of Jupiter Devouring His Son here]. Her great grandparent is 3k+ years old, her father is 200+ for devouring his own twin-- it's messy as mythology, but anime :'D She herself is only 18 on default though (19 in K Crossover--), the youngest of her entire bloodline, and she can still be slain in battle even if she is much hardier than a typical human being. She's also sensitive to auras, and capable of sensing vampires.

- Things characters might notice? She's ghostly pale and kind of looks like she stepped out of The Last Unicorn. She looks cold, sophisticated, and vaguely otherworldly-- she really doesn't radiate the friendliest of vibes unless she's doing something she loves, and the calculated yet seemingly effortless grace of her movements are prominent in and outside of combat. She is descended from an ancient royal line, and those posh, stuffy mannerisms and formal speech pattern live on through her even if the Adrasteian monarchy no longer exists.

- She truly isn't a trigger-happy person, whatever the title of 'hunter' implies, and keeps a level head in most situations. Sure, Bethy looks as if she could bite someone's head off and can display some seriously threatening flashes of anger, but she's not going to do something rash and will only resort to drawing her weapons in a serious matter. She's here to save lives, maintain peace, and keep order, not disrupt it and set off a war! No pressure on her, right?

- She is also notably, NOT a high school student, though she may be mistaken for a high school senior or young college student since her age fits the bill. Elizabeth actually graduated from her high school at age sixteen and took to hunting full-time immediately after. She was convinced to slow it down by her grandparents and began preparing for college when her assignment at Cross Academy arrived and, uh, pretty tragically, hasn’t been able to attend any classes due to her work demands. Come to choose between the world and personal fulfillment? Her conscience only let her have one choice; a hunter must hunt.

♛ What they’ve been up to recently: - Work. There's hardly a time when this girl isn't working or planning what to do next, and the workload only grows after the previous president is outed as a dishonorable, self-serving traitor to the hunters. She's seriously injured after trading blows with him and is promptly benched to deal with the fallout and mental agony, but she's back within a year (and in K's crossover? Only six months later!).

- Having said that, Elizabeth does have days off and will spend them quietly with her friends, or alone with music and a rejuvenating swim.

- Depending on the time in her life? Her life circumstances vary drastically-- she can go from a young huntress travelling on her own as duty demands, or she can be a mother of five children and trusted right hand of the new hunter president, Zero Kiryuu. She lives for a long time, so she's always up to something! And of course, she's always motivated to fight for a better future.

♛ Where to find them: - Aside from work, check the beach! Or find her on methods of cross-continental transportation since she travels around the world for her job (she walks whenever possible, so it's rare to see her on a bus, but she’ll begrudgingly take one or a train)! Otherwise, a place like an aquarium, clothing store, or coffee shop, or any place in a city is your best chance.... write w me pls... q-q she is Around Somewhere.

- If not found in any of those places and your character is someone inside Cross Academy, she can be found there, helping the prefects in some way and is familiar enough with the building to help out new students if they ask.

♛ Current Plans: - Elizabeth is chained to her work as a hunter for as long as she draws breath, or until there is no need for her to end hostile vampires. Her ultimate goal is to keep the world from falling into a repeat, all-out war between vampires and humanity. Her living and family situation might change through the years, but that will always be her primary drive-- she's got an indomitable will.

♛ Desired Interactions: - please ovq

- In all seriousness, I’m up for pretty much anything. She needs more friends, more enemies, people to protect, people to be protected by, people she looks up to, people who legitimately unnerve her, everything! I just don’t feel comfortable killing her. Elizabeth fought really hard to get her future and deserves to find comfort after her entire childhood-young adult life was spent thinking the only thing of worth she had was her role as a huntress. I do really, really love angst though, so anything else goes, really c:

♛ Offered Interactions ( please sit tight for this! it will be divided into multiple sections! ) : - IF YOUR CHARACTER IS HUMAN: - She’ll assume your muse is an average civilian until shown otherwise (be it with unusual powers, whacky aura, combat prowess, or prior knowledge from a report or something-- a plot specific thing). Unless they truly know about vampires / work with the Hunters Association, Elizabeth will not be sharing any information about who or what she is without a legitimate reason (such as the human character being bitten by a Pureblood and thus is being turned into a vampire themselves). However, the other party being kept in the dark about vampires can open the door to a more relaxed Elizabeth without her professional, perfectionist mindset. She’s more likely to have a pleasant conversation with humans since they have no part in the hunt-- but in that same vein, she does aim to keep them at a certain distance and not develop a deep emotional bond (but she’s also a lot softer than she looks and acts and tends to care for others quickly, should they get along). It’s a tricky slope . . . She’s thawed out and the nicer aspects of her personality are far more prominent, but at the same time, she’s not being entirely genuine. Give her time and she’ll become more open about personal things, just, not her work.

- Applies to her K Proj. Crossover. Working with S4, Elizabeth takes some time to adjust, but ultimately loves the organization and the people within it. They’re an exception to her ‘no ties with average humans’ rule because....errr.... they’re not the average human she’s used to protecting and in that verse they’re aware of her occupation and peculiar heritage. She’s not as cold first impressions might suggest and loves Reisi’s weird af team building nights, it’s hard for her to not have a soft spot for them, even as an outsider and unofficial member (as in, she has none of the abilities the Blues have, but she has her natural abilities).

- IF YOUR CHARACTER IS A HUNTER: - Elizabeth is a known figure in hunter society; her great grandfather, grandfather, and aunt were previous heads of the organization and each are still alive at present. So, it probably makes more sense if your hunter character at the very least knows about her-- unless they’re an off-series muse in which case go wild and do what you think is best! I always did like the idea of two vampire hunters chilling together with neither one knowing the other is a fellow hunter until they’re attacked by a vamp and they’re both like ‘Oh!’

- A simple but always reliable plot idea is two hunters on a joint mission! It’s really important to know that Bethy does not take kindly to poor performance and expects her partner to take whatever assignment they have seriously. If not? Things get tundra-cold really fast-- o-o;; People’s lives are at stake and in her opinion, if a hunter wants to mope or complain about their blood-given obligation, they’re not fit to be hunters in the first place. ‘Can’t do the job? Then finish what you started with me if you have any shred of integrity, and get thee gone’ sort of thing. Otherwise, uh :’D;; she’s highly cooperative and always aims to reach the outcome with the least amount of damage.

- As a teenager, she attended a hunter-run private academy in Adrasteia for four years. If it’s possible for your muse to attend (as in, they are from a vampire hunter family and can pass the rigorous entrance exams), throw em in for a slightly younger, less stringent Bethy? A national fencing champion at the top of her classes, and great granddaughter to the legendary hellfire headmaster, Elizabeth’s not easily missed! It could be the start to an amicable relationship to carry into future interactions?

- IF YOUR CHARACTER IS A VAMPIRE: - Bluntly put, for vampires, it’s probably better to interact with Elizabeth after Cross Academy has fallen in the large battle that took place there. Her mother is revealed to have been alive and held captive as a vampire, she’s already friends with a hunter/vamp, her two friends turned out to be Purebloods, and ‘oh....my mother and father got together again and now I’ve got a younger vampire brother’ .....and her boyfriend’s half sister is also a vampire who marries the former vamp senate heir..... so...vamps everywhere; she simply accepts them as part of the family. Prior to that, while she isn’t hostile to vampires and certainly has no intention to attack a vamp unjustly, it’s not a place she’s eager to put herself in. Depending on how threatened she feels, she’ll even swallow her pride and keep her head down-- mostly.

- If your muse is a hunter-turned-vampire, she doesn’t treat them as a vampire, rather, she still sees them as a compatriot, like in the case of Zero Kiryuu. Whether or not your muse received the blood of their keeper is up to you, but in the case that they haven’t-- she’s always there to assist in granting mercy whenever the time comes :’)

- IF YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT FIT INTO ANY OF THE ABOVE CATEGORIES / REGARDING OTHER VERSES: - Please help me find something that works, I’m willing to try! Memes are incredibly helpful! Send one in, the tag is here, and we can go from there!

- My currently finished and ready-to-use Crossover Verse is K Proj., which can be read about right here.

♛ Current Open Post/s: Linked right here. There's no expiration date to these, and it doesn't matter if another person has replied to one, you are more than welcome to reply to one if it catches your eye at all.

♛ Anything else?: YEAH, wow I am so sorry that got so long. Please note that this post may be updated periodically!

#( blog info. )#( SUPER LONG but if you're lost on some plotting things and aren't from VK #this should hopefully give you an idea of Elizabeth and her interactions? She's a tough one q - q )

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rumowrites · 5 years

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What if Runaan had a break down or something and Tink had to comfort him? I'm sure killing people all the time can't sit well, and bottling up emotions will often make the glass shatter. What'd'ya think?

@dargonwiter It belongs in the Defectum-verse and will turn up again later in the story but for now, have this sniplet that perfectly matched this prompt!

Warnings: trauma, implied torture (minor), Alcohol abuse, ptsd

It was the night of the lunar new year and soon every Moonshadow elf would gather on the main market place to celebrate together. Tink was currently sitting at the kitchen table of their most famed assassin and checked the Bowblade he’d just delivered for any faults that could have escaped him before. It was his final work and would hopefully only need a few adjustments before Runaan could use it in the field. Months had passed since the day they met in the woods and Tink secretly prayed to the moon every night that his subtle flirting attempts would finally get noticed by the stern soldier. The smith harboured a crush to an extend he didn’t think would be possible before meeting the tall elf. Now that their contract was almost fulfilled, he had the irrational fear to loose the friendship they built and be alone again. “NAAN?” he shouted, looking impatiently at the staircase in the corner “Come on, we are going to be late for the fireworks.” A good twenty minutes prior, the Assassin had excused himself to change into something ‘more fitting’ and hand been gone since.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Tink shrieked a little as the other suddenly appeared beside him. He still hadn’t gotten accustomed to the numerous hidden grips that could be used to get up or down instead of the staircase. “I’m not but we are going to be late.” He smirked at his friend who was now dressed in his full parade uniform, rank pauldron and all. “Fancy” Runaan grimaced immediately. “We could also just stay here and avoid all the people.” He filled two glasses with the Whisky Tink had come to know as his favourite and offered one to him while downing the other in one go. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to go?” he asked, pushing his glass back. The wine from before already did enough to make him feel warm and slightly bolder than usual. Runaan eyed the glass before tipping it back, too. “Because I don’t want to? Too many curious people that I have no intention to meet nor talk to.”

Early on, the smith had noticed the other’s aversion of strangers and big crowds in general. He’d said they made him nervous because he wasn’t able to calculate threats properly when Tink asked him about it. “We can stay at the edge of the crowds if they bother you, come on.” He stood and opened the door in order to get the Assassin to finally leave that precious house of his. “Alright, alright.” Runaan waved him off and obediently followed outside. He didn’t even get the chance to close the door behind him when the first banging sounds of fireworks sounded through the night. A couple of kids must have found some of them since it was still way before midnight. Tink wanted to make a joke about them getting punished for that afterwards when he noticed that Runaan was frozen into place next to him. “Naan?” he asked carefully taking a step towards him. The Assassin was eerily pale, and his eyes were opened wide in shock. He made no move to respond so Tink tried again, touching his shoulder this time. “Runaan.” Again, no reaction. Now concerned, he gently shook the other “Runaan? Are you okay?”

“Run” no more than a whisper passed the Assassin’s lips just a second before his hand shot up and tightened around Tinks neck with alarming intensity. He gasped for air, now looking into narrowed eyes that were darker and didn’t look like his friend at all. “R- Ru- naan.” He managed to choke out before the air completely left his lungs. He could feel his vision blacking out already as the pressure on his throat suddenly eased, sending him to the floor, violently gasping for air.

When he looked up, Runaan was staring at the hand that had pushed him up the wall just a second ago in utter shock. “naan?” his voice was still raspy but at least he could breathe again. The Assassin’s gaze snapped to him, fixing on the spots of his neck where most likely bruises could be seen. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Oh god. Tink, I-I’m so sorry.” He rambled, backing away through the entry and inside his house. In the distance, Tinker could hear more fireworks. Now that he thought about it, they reminded him a lot of the canons the humans used to defend their castles. He’d only ever heard them once during his time on the border, but it was a sound one didn’t forget that easily.

“Runaan? Are you okay?” he quickly followed the other inside, seeing him lean against the wall that separated his kitchen from the rest of the floor, breathing heavily. This time, the smith was sure to approach more carefully. “Can you hear me?” a nod, good. “What happened?” but Runaan only shook his head and dragged a shaking hand through his hair, messing with the tidy braids. His gaze travelled between Tink and the bottle on the table a few times before he finally replied. “The-the s-sounds. I’m s-sorry.” The smith nodded and forced a smile on his face. “I’m okay; see? Nothing happened.” He tried to get a little closer, but the Assassin immediately took a step backwards, his feet hitting the wall. “Stay away from me!” it sounded so much more afraid than he’d ever heard his friend and something in his gut twisted in return. “Runaan..” he began but was cut off before he could say something. “P-please. I-I don’t want to-to hurt you.”

“okay” Tink agreed and took a few steps back until the other had relaxed a little. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully and pulled one of the chairs over to sit down. The soldier shook his head but also took a seat. On the opposite side of the table as far away as he possibly could. His hands were still trembling as he reached for the liquor and poured some of it in one of the glasses. Tinker watched patiently as he emptied it, repeated the process and suddenly stood, walking into the training room to get more distance between them. “It’s the sounds, right?” he asked and slowly followed in the large room. A nod in approval. “Tink, please don’t follow me.” Again, the fear in his voice.

“It’s okay, you are not going to hurt me.” The smith tried to soothe but while he was speaking more fireworks sounded in the distance. Midnight. Runaan’s eyes widened again and he backed into a corner, sinking to the ground his back to the relatively safe wall. “I’ve already hurt you.” He exclaimed, staring at his right hand as if it was somehow to blame for that. “Just go, please, It’s not safe. I’m not safe.” The assassin mumbled, drawing his legs up. “I won’t just leave you here.” Tink advanced step by step, praying the other wouldn’t bolt again. When he reached the cowering figure and spoke again, Runaan looked at him in shock seemingly lost in his own world. “Come here.” He coaxed and pulled him in a tight embrace. Under his hands, he could feel the usually composed elf tremble. “They died, Tink. All of them. I couldn’t-“ his friend whispered, voice now hoarse. “Shhh, it’s okay. We are safe. Tell me about them.” He reassured as calmly as he could and rubbed circles across the other’s back. “We were s-seven. M-my fourth mission. Hostage retrieval. The humans, they-they-“ Runaan broke off again and took a few deep breaths. “It’s alright, I’m here.” The smith repeated, sitting down next to him while still keeping an arm around his shoulders for comfort. “-they fired at us. E-everybody died. I-I could see them get hit b-because I was behind them, carrying the hostage. I still d-don’t know h-how, but we m-made it. M-my whole quad dead. J-just like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Tink assured and continued to comfort the other. “There was nothing you could have done.” “S-still.” The assassin argued, now with a little of that stubbornness that was so distinctly him. “I-I don’t know.” He took another shuddering breath before closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was even, if still hoarse, and sounded much more like it usually did. “I feel like I could have done more to save them. The fireworks, they-they remind me of the canons.”

Tink nodded but kept his arm still around the other’s shoulder, pulling him close. “How often do you get those flashbacks?” he asked quietly. For someone usually so composed, the huge loss of control must be devastating. He himself often had nightmares from his time at border and could only imagine how horrible the Assassin’s were. It took a couple of minutes before Runaan finally replied but the smith waited patiently, hugging him a little tighter. “I haven’t had this one for three years, but it occurs sometimes when I hear those sounds. Thankfully it never happened to this extent on a mission.”

“So, there are others? Do you know what they are triggered by?” the general nodded, staring ahead to something only he could see. “Narrow spaces, huge, dense crowds, fire and generally loud noises. But not all of them necessarily have to cause a panic attack. If I can mentally prepare for it, I can block it out. Fire is also not that problematic, just-just if it’s very near to my skin.” Torture was the first thing that crossed Tink’s mind, but he decided not to touch that topic today. Now that he thought about it, he’d seen a few strange scars on the other’s body back when they were sparring that looked a lot like the marks his mentor bore on his arms from handling the hot iron all day for decades.

“You said the one today was the first in three years. What did you do before that helped? So I know what to do next time?” a helpless laugh was the response he got and he could feel Runaan relaxing a little until his back leaned against the wall and one of his legs was stretched out again. “I left. Two times, I had missions that I took because they spanned the new year’s celebration and once, I just walked until I couldn’t hear them anymore.” He left out that he’d not only sprinted through the woods as fast as he could but also spent Midnight in an equally high tree branch equally drunk as the day they met.

“And for the other occasions is there something that helps?” Runaan shook his head “Not completely, no. Though training helps sometimes, it makes me feel in control again, and-“ he broke off, burying his head in his hands to avoid Tink’s assessing look. The smith squeezed him again, sitting as close as possible before gently prodding further. “And?” the look he got in return was equally devastated as it was shameful. “And-“ the assassin finally continued “-drinking… helps.” At Tinkers speechless expression, he seemed to feel the need to explain himself. “It dulls my senses so that I don’t react to those events that sensitive. I tried the sleep medication from the healers one time and it also worked quite well but I don’t really have access to it that frequently.”

The smith nodded, placing his free hand over Runaan’s to show him he didn’t judge the other. “So you have them a lot?”

A tiny nod.

“Most nights, yes but they, ah-well, they got better since we’ve been working together. Diversion usually manages to occupy me enough to forget about them. You once asked me why I train so much and sleep so little, well now you’ve got the answer. I bet it’s not the one you’ve anticipated.”

They sat in silence after that, neither of them willing to break the fragile clam that had settled around them. Finally, Runaan turned towards him, looking into his eyes intently. “I didn’t mean to hurt you and I am sorry you had to witness that. I hope you can forgive me.” Immediately, the short haired elf smiled, genuinely this time. “There was no harm done and it was hardly your fault. Nothing to forgive.” The relief that washed over the Assassin’s face was so evident, Tink had to chuckle. “Thank you.” He said and it sounded like the other didn’t only mean today but all the moments they had spent together since that night in the forest.

#defectum #prompt #tumblr prompt #rumowrites #rumo writes #runaan #runaan x necklace elf #tdp runaan #tinker #runaan x tinker #angst #the dragon prince #tdp fic #tdp fanfic #moonshadow elves #xadia #ask #ask amswered #dargonwriter

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unsaid-stardust · 5 years

Text

Love Don’t Roam

So after digging through the Doctor Who soundtrack, I came across the song “Love Don’t Roam” which is what plays at Donna’s wedding reception when Ten has his flashback of Rose. I had made a post earlier about how the song actually reflects the Doctor quite well and even though we don’t actually hear what the Doctor tells Rose on the beach, this song does. It wasn't long enough though, and some people wanted more so, here’s take two. In this essay I will-

Verse 1

Well, I've roamed about this Earth With just a suitcase in my hand And I've met some bug-eyed Joes I've met the blessed I've met the damned But of all the strange, strange creatures In the air, at sea, on land Oh my girl, my girl, my precious girl I love you, you understand

We start the song with words that speak of a traveller who has gone all over the world and is just left with his suitcase. Sound familiar? Just a little? It should. Because this traveller is none other than the Doctor.

The whole show is about his travels and the people he meets and songs aren’t random in television, or good television for that matter. They’re carefully picked and the fact that this song plays when the camera focuses on the Doctor hints that it’s about him.

To go even further, he’s the last of his kind and the TARDIS, or the suitcase, is all he has left. He’s met “the blessed” and “the damned”. All different kinds of people, but also, gods and devils e.g The Impossible Planet and The Satan Pit.

But, Sab, strange creatures? How does that relate to the Doctor?

Good question. The answer?

Also, The Satan Pit.

In that episode, The Doctor is faced with the actual devil and when he does he has this super long monologue. Long, but super important. He talks about how he’s met so many gods in his lifetime and seen them with his own eyes. He knows they exist; a question that most humans contemplate today.

He goes on to say how even though he's actually seen all of these gods, he doesn’t believe in any of them. Who does he believe in then? Rose Tyler. Yeah, we know, Sab, why are you telling us something we already know? Well, because this exact monologue is also described in the song...just much simpler:

“I’ve met the blessed I've met the damned, But of all the strange, strange creatures, in the air, in the sea, on land, oh my girl, my girl, my precious girl, I love you, you understand”

It can best be explained as this: Blessed and damned-gods and devils. But out of all- besides the numerous gods and devils. My girl-Rose Tyler. I love you- I believe in her.

Not only can this line refer to the monologue, but it could also just refer to all of the companions the Doctor has met, which I will go more in depth with when I get to verse 3.

But for now, I’m gonna skip the chorus and go straight to the second verse because that’s where the song begins in the actual scene and really takes a look at the doctor’s psyche.

Verse 2:

I have wandered, I have rambled I have crossed this crowded sphere And I've seen a mess of problems That I long to disappear And all I have's this anguished heart For you have vanished too Oh my girl, my girl, my precious girl Just what is this man to do?

Again, it speaks of a man who’s travelled which is established to be The Doctor. It’s confirmed with the next line:

“I've seen a mess of problems, that I long to disappear”.

On his travels, the Doctor’s goal is always to solve what is wrong with that particular place. Sometimes he’s meant to go there specifically because of the problem, other times he just happens to be there when bad things happen, but whatever the case, he never leaves without fixing it. However, he does leave, or “disappear”, when the cleaning up needs to be done.

Not only can this refer to physical problems, but emotional ones too. The Doctor has extreme emotional baggage, Regret, loss, pain, and his whole character development is revolved around trying to heal from it. Specifically, in Ten’s case, the pain of losing Rose to the parallel world.

This reception happens and the song plays just after he’s lost her. More importantly, this verse plays just before he has a flashback with her in it. This can all be traced back to the line “And all I have’s this anguished heart, for you have vanished too,”.

The Doctor is constantly left with loss and regret, and this is only heightened when he loses Rose. She made him better; helped him heal. But, now that she’s gone, all he’s left with are the problems and an “anguished heart”.

Verse 3:

Well, you took me in You stole my heart I cannot roam no more Because love, it stays within you It doesn't wash up on a shore And a fighting man forgets each cut Each knock, each bruise, each fall But a fighting man cannot forget Why his love don't roam no more

Now this is the verse that really gives us a look into the Doctor’s heart. What’s super important about this verse is that it’s what plays when The Doctor has his flashback of Rose. The line “you stole my heart” coincides with the beginning of the flashback and the exact moment that the Doctor catches Rose.

Call it meta, or literal, or whatever you want, but this doesn’t happen just by chance. In fact, the song’s been playing since way before the flashback happens which shows that this verse is meant to be playing when the flashback happens.

What does it actually mean, then? Well, just as the lyric says. Rose Tyler stole the Doctor’s heart, er, hearts that is. The fact that he catches her at the exact same moment says it all; The Doctor loves Rose Tyler.

As for the whole “I cannot roam anymore”, well, that goes back to what I was saying about the companions in the first verse.

He’s met so many people over his 900 years of existence and he’s travelled with many, many, companions. Sarah Jane Smith, Martha Jones, Donna Noble. The list goes on. And he’s cared about them all. All in different ways.

But the thing with all the other companions, is that he was perfectly fine leaving them. He knew it was going to happen at some point. He wasn’t necessarily okay with it, but he was content. It was just what happened. He was a traveller and he didn’t stay in one place or with one person too long.

With Rose, though, it was different. She stole his heart. This was established in the first verse. He’s met all these strange creatures, or all these different companions, but it was Rose that he loved. He couldn't just leave her, hence the lyrics “I cannot roam no more, because love stays within you, it doesn’t wash up on a shore”.

Rose stayed with him, even though she wasn’t physically there. She stole his heart and with her gone, he didn’t really have one. He was just left with all this turmoil, unable to just replace her with another companion, like he would do with others.

And not only does the line “it doesn’t wash up on a shore” refer to The Doctor’s inner psyche, but it could also refer to the actual beach that he left Rose on; Bad Wolf Bay. While an actual duplicate of him showed up on the shore, it wasn’t him. The duplicate had the memories and the love for Rose, but he himself wasn’t physically there. It was the duplicate that was.

But Sab, we don’t know the Doctor loved Rose for certain, he’s never said it.

uh-huh. Well, if you really need me to tell you, I don’t think we’re watching the same show, but for good measures, here’s the chorus.

chorus

Reel me in, my precious girl Come on, take me home My body's tired of traveling And my heart don't wish to roam

This is what plays just before the Doctor has his flashback. As he’s watching all of the people on the dance floor, his eyes fixate on this one specific couple, the woman having blonde hair, just like Rose did. He fixates on this couple just after the lines “My body’s tired of traveling, and my heart don’t wish to roam”.

It’s also important to note that the man dips the woman while dancing, and “reels” her in, which is when the flashback of Rose begins in which a similar thing happens. This is important because again, it solidifies that this song is about the Doctor and Rose.

So, what about the rest of the chorus, then? Well, it’s basically all been said. The Doctor has had all of these different companions which whom he loves and cherishes. However, the chorus adds this idea that he doesn’t want to, or physically can't, be with all those companions anymore.

All he wants is to live a life where he can grow old like humans and not have to live with all of this constant regret and pain that comes with the passing of time. He just wants to settle down, have a more permanent life. He doesn’t want to do it alone, though. No, he wants to live a permanent life with Rose.

“My precious girl, come on, take me home” says it all. He wants to be the one standing on that beach. He wants to be in Pete’s world with Rose. He doesn’t want to travel with all of these different people anymore. He only wants her.

And that’s because the Doctor loves Rose Tyler.

If you still don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe Murray Gold, who composed the soundtrack:

“In the 2006 special “The Runaway Bride” we needed a song that reflected the Doctor’s inner thoughts whilst also being something you could imagine a crowd at a wedding dancing to. The third verse is especially inspired by David Tennant. The song is as much his as Song for Ten was before”

I know what you must be thinking now. Sab, why go through all that trouble when you could’ve literally just posted this quote? I could’ve, but what’s the fun in that?

#Doctor Who #David Tennant #The Tenth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Rose Tyler x ten #ten x rose #doomsday #army of ghosts #the satan pit #I have no self control #and way too much free time #and an obsessive personality #but I don't regret this at allllllll

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ournewoverlords · 5 years

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Some thoughts on Ted Chiang’s Exhalation (2019) - Part I

Ted Chiang is such an interesting writer to me. His stories have such a neutral, impersonal tone — “thinky” scifi, theoretical what-if experiments far from our own space and time — and yet they wrestle with such “base” human questions at their core. I was surprised at how emotional I felt after reading some of them — not during the reading but days afterwards, when I’d watch a kid play in the park and think about the main character in “The Lifecycle of Software Objects”, who’d tried very hard to give her digital-child-pet a life in a society that didn’t consider it worthy of one. There’s something about his stories that have an impact on you a long time later, like a stone dropped too clean to make an initial splash, but whose ripples keep echoing in you for a long time after.

Some of these questions are very familiar, if you’ve read his previous collections, most famously Stories of Your Life and Others: how much free will do we really have; how do we go on in a world without it; how the instruments we use (language and writing, as much as any other tech) changes the way we think, feel, and relate to each other; the purpose of science and the purpose of stories, and the lines where they cross, the spaces where they meet. Is it the actual, physical, objective-laws world that shapes who we are, or the stories we tell ourselves about it? What is an individual — a single, measly person, whose only contribution might be to write a good account of the advent of a piece of tech, not even the inventor but a bystander — to the clockwork machinery of the universe? Why are we, in the cosmic scheme of things?

Maybe it’s all the Black-Mirror/Hunger-Games type stuff that’s been so en vogue in the last decade (not to mention a certain orange-y harbinger of the apocalypse sitting in the White House, and the impending existential dread of climate change), but I found this to be a very “hopeful” collection. Optimistic may be too strong a word for it, but it grapples with these dystopian concepts and comes out the other side with the sense that just as the world grows and changes, we will find a way to grow and change, and whether time turns all our great pyramids and gods to dust we are still a species worth saving. The time machines, robots, parallel universes, and knowledge that we have no destiny except the final entropy of all living things will challenge who we are, but not the missive to be kind to one another. Even if our fate is already set, we can still choose what kind of person we will be when we meet it.

In that way, perhaps the way the narrators, men and women and nameless alike, are so detached and analytical in the way they observe the world reflects not a limitation of Chiang’s character range, but a purposeful choice by the author. They’re scientists, struggling with a crisis of faith: whether they’ve made the correct diagnosis, drawn the correct conclusion, stuck to the right course, let go at the right time. Watches, who’ve met their watchmaker. Yet what makes this collection particularly beautiful — particularly scifi — to me is how these mechanical people become not gods in the future, but simply more human.

Some thoughts on the individual stories under the cut, warning for spoilers. I’m splitting this into two parts because I'm a rambler, so this one is the first half, going up to The Lifecyle of Software Objects:

The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate

“Nothing erases the past. There is repentance, there is atonement, and there is forgiveness. That is all, but that is enough.”

I think it’s so fitting that a short-story collection about the meaning of stories opens with a scifi retelling of Scheherazade’s One Thousand and One Nights, the most famous short-story collection of all. It’s not just the ancient Middle East setting that’s familiar, but the structure: like those fables, this is a nested story-within-a-story, a series of morality tales told to a narrator who has his own secret not yet revealed to the audience. The scifi piece here is the time-machine gate, which, like Arrival, raises questions about the nature of time and free will — what if the future were an unchangeable scroll, the script set in ink before your birth? What does coming to know that future do to the knower?

Some, naturally, use it to enrich themselves, the classic time-travel trope of traveling to the past to give yourself the stock picks (note: buy Apple). Another underestimates the trickery of fate, while the wife uses it to rescue her future husband. But what’s interesting here is that in all these cases, no one actually changes the future; nor did they actually change the past, because the past *must* have happened for the future to happen. The characters merely make the future that was going to happen happen, much as Arrival’s Louise felt obligated “to act precisely as she knew would.”

It’s a theme that Chiang is clearly very interested in, with his most famous demonstration in Stories of Your Life / Arrival. If we already know the future, and we can’t change it no matter what we do, that implies that we don’t have free will. The narrator’s attempt then, to change his future by changing his past must fail: a harsh word spoken and a wife lost can’t be taken back, unless it was meant to be.

But the fact that the narrator tried, I think, and went to great lengths trying, is the human element of this fantasy story. That his first instinct was to try to save his wife says something about him; the fact that it was all futile in the end doesn’t negate the meaning of his attempt. I keep remembering this Vonnegut quote about Lot’s wife, who was warned not to look back at the burning city, and yet couldn’t help doing so as she fled: “but she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.” The merchant didn’t do the wise thing, but he did the human thing — isn’t that the part that hurts?

The one issue I had with this story is that I’m always completely frustrated by time-travel-paradox stories — it doesn’t make sense to me that a universe wouldn’t branch off, so to speak, the moment you step back in time, so I don’t understand *why* both our past and future can’t be changed. I had the same issue with Arrival, where I couldn’t explain to myself why Louise HAD to walk the future she saw. (It doesn’t help that I’ve been watching a lot of Future Man, which has a lot of fun jumping around and sticking its fingers up the timey-wimey stuff.) But I also believe that the technical puzzle really isn’t the point of this story — accepting the premise that the past and future are unchangeable even if we can see them, the idea is that we still have to live them anyways, and it’s through those experiences that we change, grow, become different people. If the merchant hadn’t tried to rescue his wife, would he have found his atonement at the end? Or are there things we have to do anyways, even if we already know the answer?

Exhalation

“But in truth the source of life is a difference in air pressure, the flow of air from spaces where it is thick to those where it is thin.”

A slim little story, with a steampunk texture and some lovely little flourishes of prose in between extremely in-depth explanations of what I can only describe as “mechanical stuff” (you can see the technical writer in Chiang here — he really likes describing machinery). But the thing I really like about his work is that even as he’s a geek fascinated by the technology itself, he’s even more interested in its impact on the people and societies that find themselves confronting it. “How the world works” affects how people think about themselves, and that philosophical bent gives his stories more depth than “wouldn’t it be cool if…” thought experiments to me.

On the one level, “air” here could be a direct substitution for “energy”, where the second law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of an isolated system can only go up, never down. Every breath we take adds another little bit of disorder into the universe. That makes sense: none of us are renewable machines, all our civilizations have finite lifespans, and the way we’re treating the planet doesn’t exactly bode well for at least extending what time we have. Hell, we’re literally screwing our own oxygen, and unlike the narrator’s species we don’t need the laws of physics to do it for us.

What I thought was particularly interesting, though, was reading this on a more metaphorical level. I’m stretching it here, but it’s the idea that people don’t really live on the materia itself, but on the immaterial ebbs and flows between them; that it’s the passing of thoughts, energy, love, emotion between us that keeps us alive. When that exchange dies — whether because we all became the same, or because we’ve lost interest in seeking that exchange — so too do we as a species.

Is it language that keeps us alive, or having another person hear it? Is it the having of food, or having someone with whom to share it?

What’s Expected of Us

“My message to you is this: Pretend that you have free will.”

Oh ho — I had a thought after reading this that the order of the stories in this collection is really deliberate, because this book is in tension to itself. That is, one story will set out one hypothesis/POV, and then the next will straight-up rebut it, a kind of self-conflict that reminds me both of the history of science and the way I think most conflicts occur in real life: not as wrong vs right, but as different POVs that can all be true at once without being the whole of the answer, if there is one at all.

The previous story ends with a spirited declaration that “the buildings we have erected, the art and music and verse we have composed, the very lives we’ve led: none of them could have been predicted, because none of them was inevitable.” This one states exactly the opposite: everything HAS been predicted and you have no choice at all. And unlike the first story, which had the same deterministic view, the conclusion here is not to accept fate but to fight it. (Not that you can choose whether to fight it or not - it’s all been predetermined!)

First of all, this is based on a real, ongoing debate. I was really interested in neuroscience (and in particular, its impact on ethics and law) back in college and it reminded me instantly of those experiments showing that our subconscious brain makes a decision before we become conscious of making it (see Neuroscience of free will), and I’m sure experiments like Libet’s were the inspiration behind the Predictor device here.

The fact that no one’s reacted the same way people do here is probably because we have such a strong perception of our own free will that it just seems too obviously ludicrous, and the experiments so far are nowhere near as iron-tight and replicable as the Predictor. Even so, though, think about all those factors you didn’t have control over that have such an impact on where you are today: where you were born (living at the poverty level in the U.S. still puts you at the top 14% worldwide!), your parents, your genetic temperament, much of your health and innate interests and talents. There’s a lot of that vaunted genetics-plus-environment explanation for behavior that is out of our hands, and what’s left over is all the most interesting — and hardest to define — stuff.

I’m not saying that Chiang is making a social critique here, but I think that’s what this whole collection is grappling with: “the stuff that’s left over.” Keep in mind the narrator’s two assertions at the end that will pop over and over again: the idea that civilization depends on “self-deception” — or what others might call “stories” — and that “some of you will succumb and some of you won’t, and my sending this warning won’t alter those proportions”. Because in the last story, following the narrator’s command to believe in the lie is exactly what alters them.

The Lifecycle of Software Objects

Confession: I’m rarely blown away by Chiang’s prose. It does the job but it doesn’t get me swooning over a sentence or a particularly striking piece of imagery. Reading TLoSO, the piece of fiction I kept thinking of was Philip K Dick’s Do Android Dream of Electric Sheep, a novella whose wordcraft I also thought was workmanly — and yet, I fucking love that book, and this was my favorite story in Exhalation.

I can’t fully articulate why, but it’s the one that’s stuck with me the longest, even as I think The Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feeling is more original and Anxiety is the Dizziness of Freedom is more satisfying. It’s one of the most “conventional” stories here, along with Anxiety (perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s these two that are being adapted for Hollywood) — actual characters, with actual story arcs, and things happening and people making difficult choices. It has a cinematic vision and a fully-realized world that spans decades in the lives of those characters. It even has bad guys, and an interesting conceit: what if we had these digital pets called “digients” that could learn how to talk, and play, and maybe even learn up to the level of a adolescent while looking like these adorable baby animals that you’ll never have to feed, clean, or scoop poop after? You can just “suspend” them when you’re tired of playing with them; they’re cuter than robots, less pressure than children, and less work than pets!

The length and conventionality of the narrative structure makes it easier to relate to, I think, but it’s not why I love it and keep juxtaposing it by the Philip K Dick book. Like Androids, at the heart of it I think this is a story about empathy. It’s a story about the inherent terror, sorrow, and joy of parenting, of being in charge of another life with no guardrails or handbook on how to do it. It’s about being an adult, with jobs, responsibilities, and obligations to others in constant competition with values inside yourself, and never knowing if you got that balance right.

It’s about being a parent in a society where you’re in constant negotiation with it about the value of that life: where the only worth your child has is how much money they can make someone, how intelligent they are (and therefore how much money they can make someone), how much utility they have as an academic exercise or as a sex partner. No matter how much you love your kid, the only thing the world cares about is whether they have some “use”, and this story is all about that feeling: the heartache of justifying an existence you don’t feel should need justifying. Because whether the digients are actually robots, children, pets, or replicants — that’s probably never going to be proven, in the same way we’ll never know if Deckard really is a replicant, but that’s not really what matters here. What matters is whether you choose to believe these digital-pet-things deserve to be treated like they have value, the kind of value that makes torturing them evil, discarding them cruel, and keeping promises to them matter.

Ana and Derek choose to believe. They’re one of the very few who do, and they raise their digients as children, teaching them how to read, finding them play partners, taking joy in their successes, wrestling with how to discipline their mischief. When disaster strikes — Blue Gamma goes bankrupt, Data Earth becomes obsolete, making obsolete their first-gen digients with it — they shield them from the “finances”, much as many parents do. Then they throw themselves into the only mission that matters anymore: finding a way to give them some semblance of a good life.

Hope after hope turns them down, until at last, there’s only a startup called Binary Desire, who proposes to make the digients sex bots, in the most reasonable language: they won’t be sex slaves, this is a voluntary modification to their circuits plus careful training that will make them genuinely fall in love with their chosen partner. A kind of directed puberty, if you will — after all, none of us asked for our hormones and crushes, right? How is this different from being born with the oxytocin to connect to our family, or Blue Gamma’s initial breeding of the digients to be cute and cuddly? How is it different from being born with a certain set of genes that might predispose us to like certain people — isn’t that even the whole concept of “soul mates” in the first place, an innate connection?

But there’s something so particularly awful about Binary Desire’s proposal, as nicely as they couch it as completely consensual. First of all, as Ana and Derek argue, the digients are still child-like (though this is partly because of Derek’s and especially Ana’s own protectiveness). But even if they had the consciousness and experience of full adults, it’d still feel wrong to me, and I think it’s because of this: forcing a being to remake themselves just for our own convenience feels instinctively wrong. Binary Desire’s customers could find real, living, actually-consensual partners — but they don’t want to, they’d rather pay for a bot hardwired to fall in love with them, and delude themselves that this is “ultimate sexual fulfillment” for both parties.

That’s what feels so wrong about the way the digients are treated in the society of TLoSO in general: it’s not that people are actively torturing the bots a la the Kubrick/Spielberg movie A.I., it’s just that they’re always doing whatever is most convenient for themselves. There’s no friction, no “cost” — and therefore, no weight to any of their relationships either. It’s not that they’re selfish people, any more than us fast-swiping Tinder and all those other dating apps whose entire goal was to remove friction from “the dating market” — the point is that technology has made these options available that were never there before.

What if you could push a button and make your child perfect? What if you could pay a few bucks and make someone love you forever? Binary Sense even tries to get around that by demanding the relationship be built up over months rather than a cheap-and-quick hormonal hit because people want “real” relationships not slaves — but that friction is still artificial, just like how Ana tells Derek at the beginning that it’s weirder to pretend the digients are real animals. Getting things easy, getting things without having to pay any emotional price or sacrificing anything of yourself — that cheapens you.

I think that’s the answer to Binary Desire’s question that tortures Ana: “why can nonsexual relationships with them [like yours and Derek’s] be healthy, while sexual ones can’t?” It’s not really about nonsexual vs sexual — it’s about investing in a relationship honestly, vs trying to take shortcuts. Binary Desire’s emotional training program to get the digient to fall in love is still a shortcut, just a different kind of shortcut. People are always looking for certainty, the certainty that they’ve made the right choice — certain profit, certain success, certain returns for their investment. But relationships aren’t about certainty; at every moment, you might be fucking this all up forever, but it’s that discomfort that you makes you human. It’s about knowing that you might have nothing left to show at the end of years of effort and being willing to make that effort anyway.

The people in Ana and Dereks’ society suck because they’re unwilling to take the risk that might they invest everything, and still be left with nothing. They would never give their whole heart to something, whether that thing was a person or a bot. They want the kind of relationship that you can suspend, rewind, erase, start over if you don’t like it anymore. And that’s no relationship at all.

That’s why Ana and Derek are the heroes here, or at least, as much “hero” as you can be in a Ted Chiang piece — because they do pay a price for their love for Jax and Marco and Polo. They don’t take the easy way out of suspending them even as it costs them relationships, jobs, their statuses in society. At the end, Derek even sacrifices the one thing he discovered he wanted throughout the years— his chance with Ana — to make what he hopes is the right choice for Marco. They’re not the same kind of parents at all — Ana is more protective, Derek more willing to push them, to let them struggle out of the idea that’s needed for growth — but the crucial thing is both put that duty above themselves, the moment they became “parents”: the duty to try to give them a good life.

On the one hand, you can say it’s a sickness, valuing robots that might never gain more intellectual capacity than a 10-year-old over other human beings; on the other you can say they have this kind of fundamental integrity, this will to treat them right. Because Ana promised Jax she wouldn’t suspend him, she won’t. Because Derek can sacrifice neither Marco nor Ana, he lets Marco make his own choice, and lets Ana blame him. Maybe those are all terrible choices, maybe it’s not what you’d think of as a happy life, but — being able to have empathy with something outside yourself, even if it’s a thing not a person, being the kind of person who stands by their promises and doesn’t squirrel out of the hard decisions — isn’t that the kind of life you can live with? And isn’t that all we can ask for in the end?

---

Second half coming up!

#exhalation #ted chiang #exhalation review #book review

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hope-for-olicity · 6 years

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Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - September 21st, 2018

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them.

Hard To Find Love multi-chapter WIP by Mellowyellowdiamonds - Through a tragic twist of fate Felicity finds herself left with an orphaned young William Clayton. Keeping her promise to her friend, Felicity raises William diligently, loving him as if he were her own child, only to have Moira Queen storm into their lives several years later demanding custody of her grandson. Locked in a war with Moira Queen, things get complicated when Felicity finds herself developing unwanted feelings for William's biological father, Oliver Queen. At the same time she must try to manage her meddling 13 year old son, who has it in his head that if Felicity would just cooperate and fall for his father, everything would be right in the world. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941786/chapters/37173917

In These Dreams That Are Nightmares by @geneshaven - Oliver's dreams while he's in prison. https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/178003134119/in-these-dreams-that-are-nightmares

The Predator multi-chapter WIP by @supersillyanddorky06 - Oliver Queen is the one anomaly in the Chicago Outfit. He is the only non-blooded member to be a part of the high circle in the family. His reputation precedes him and he is their best hunter. Felicity Smoak, daughter of the Starling boss, infiltrates his house, intent on killing him. But a startling encounter tips the scales. He goes on the prowl and she escapes. Hate, heat, and friction. Sparks. But something bigger is happening in their world. And despite their disagreements, only they can fight it down. Mob AU. Not Bratva. Enemies-lovers. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5077885/chapters/21891689

When the Stillness Bends (All the Places We Touch) by @allimariexf - She looked up and met his eyes for the first time. “You’re lucky.” The warning in her voice let him know she wasn’t only talking about the depth of his stab wounds. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973835

And So The Adventure Begins multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity spent her first year of college focused solely on her studies. In year two, with the convincing of her best friends Iris and Sara, she lets her hair down a bit. Oliver spent his first year partying with his wingman Tommy and living up to the status that came with his last name. He realizes he should buckle down focus on the most important part: actual school. Oliver and Felicity meet, and even though they are on different ends of the spectrum, they don't realize that they can each bring out hidden parts of one another. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800025/chapters/36771018

Pieces of Always multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356

Thursday multi-chapter Complete by @someonesaidcake - There is something about the girl next door that Oliver Queen is only now noticing... Felicity is moving to college just down the road from where Oliver is a senior. He suddenly becomes very protective of the girl next door. Thursday night dinners might not ever be the same again. This story gets better and better! http://archiveofourown.org/works/10688658/chapters/23670255

My Thoughts on You multi-chapter WIP by rachelrenalove -Felicity Smoak is sure of 3 things: 1. She's a badass and she is damn good at what she does. 2. She hates the man in the green hood. 3. Oliver Queen is a pain in her ass and she cannot wait until the day she can quit her job at Queen Consolidated. Or Felicity Smoak goes undercover at Queen Consolidated and meets Oliver Queen. She quickly realizes that she doesn't like him and wishes she was never chosen for this mission. Outside of QC, she is dealing with her hatred towards the man in the green hood that has found out exactly which buttons of hers to press in order to piss her off. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15089954/chapters/34989344

In a Perfect World multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - Based on a prompt: "What if Oliver (being cut off from Queens billions) follows his true passion - photography, meets Felicity and they become THE internet famous family of the world?" Oliver fell inlove with photography after he received his first camera at sixteen years old. Now, he spends his time alone, traveling around the worldand capturing breathtaking moments- like the beautiful woman he meets on a beach one night. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758463/chapters/36651615

Home To You multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Oliver Queen has never done what his family expected of him. He took a gap year after high school instead of going to college right away. He quit his fraternity sophomore year to join the student newspaper, switching his major from business to journalism. He became a photojournalist for a wire service instead of taking a place at Queen Consolidated. He went missing after six months instead of coming home for his sister’s twenty-first birthday. He survived five years of captivity in a war zone when everyone thought he was dead. He came home. But home didn’t have a place for him in it anymore. His parents were both dead, casualties of their own mistakes and a city they had turned against them. His sister was all grown up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated with a fiancé and a dog and a life of her own. Oliver didn’t belong in his old life, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He was a man without a home, without any way of finding one, until he stopped by the IT department of his sister’s company to get files off an old, battered memory card, and found a woman with curly blonde hair and bright, intelligent eyes chewing on a bright red pen and swearing at a computer screen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613188/chapters/28734552

Falling for an Angel multi-chapter WIP by @missafairy - What happens if an angel falls from the sky? Oliver Queen is a respected club owner in his hometown - Starling City. His life abruptly changes when one night he finds a beautiful girl claiming to have fallen from heaven. With her wings tucked into a jacket he helps her navigate her now human life while trying not to fall in love. Nothing can go wrong even if she drinks all of his coffee and cries in the shower, right? http://archiveofourown.org/works/9368912/chapters/21209975

The Queen's Mage multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Words have power, and mages, those with the aptitude to draw on that power, are few in number. Thus, their services are highly sought after by anyone who has exhausted all mundane means of solving whatever problem is plaguing them. Felicity is reminded of this fact the hard way when she is hired by Moira Queen, the Lady Starling, to find and return to her son Oliver, who fled his family home five years ago following the death of his father. With a threat hanging over her should she return without Robert Queen's heir, Felicity begins her search. When she finds Oliver, and ends up joining his vigilante crusade while she waits for him to decide whether to return home, the last thing she expects to do is fall in love with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617068/chapters/33781269

Fragments multi-chapter WIP by @alexiablackbriar13 - A collection of various arrow and olicity ficlets from my drafts folder, partially completed. some AU, some canon related. many related to established verses I've created, although do not need to read those verses to read these fics. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906561/chapters/37075926

Time for a Story multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

Back to Start multi-chapter WIP by @laurabelle2930 - Felicity left home almost ten years ago. She missed her family, the land that she'd always felt bonded to and, the boy who was not only her best friend but, also her true love. Now with the help of her family she's about to see if the boy she left behind is still just as in love with as she still is with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043321/chapters/37451873

Angel multi-chapter WIP by @it-was-a-red-heeler - Oliver encounters a stripper by the name of Angel and is blown away. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961898/chapters/37227686#workskin

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 //

#FabulousOlicityFanficFriday #olicity fanfiction #fic recs

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sushiobsessedwriter · 6 years

Text

Broken Puppet

Request: Number 7 Lyric Prompt w/ Sasori from Naruto “you’re ripped at every edge, but you’re a masterpiece” - colors x halsey

Fandom: Naruto/Naruto Shippuden

Character(s): Sasori

Word Count: 647

Warning(s): Mentions of injuries & fighting.

Story:

“Sasori!!”

You ran as fast as you could, legs carrying you across the desert wasteland that you’d been travelling through. Your travelling partner and long-time friend –and crush- had been fighting an unforeseen enemy a few meters away. You’d been out for the count due to a harsh blow on the back of your head. The throbbing was the least of your worries as his body dropped to the floor, his puppets following like a bad game of dominoes. Your feet slipped a few times on the sand but soon you were on your knees next to his un-moving body. Your eyes widened as you saw the gaping hole in his stomach. Scratches littered his body but his face remained unharmed. You took a second to admire the angelic curves and beautiful, red hair. He was a masterpiece despite his injuries.

Luckily, you didn’t have to worry about the enemy as Sasori dealt the last blow before collapsing. You weren’t a ninja well versed in medical jutsus, that was more Sasori’s expertise and you suddenly wished you were the one on the floor, with his skilled hands hovering over you. You pushed back tears, knowing he would only snap at you for crying over him. He was a puppet with chakra embedded where his heart was, surely that meant a carpenter could fix it, not that you were a carpenter. You spied one of his larger puppets and an idea popped into your head. You cringed as you thought of what you were about to do and when he was revived, what he would do to you.

You crawled over to the puppet, the pain in your head worsening as you dragged the heavy piece of art over to your lover’s body. With your kuni you sawed a gap the same size as Sasori’s stomach-hole and removed it. You cringed at the colour difference and the harsh sounds of wood being cut. A few hand signs later at the wood attached itself. You sat back, hands still in the air as you waited for him to become conscious again.

“Sasori?”

He groaned slightly and stared up at you. A large grin covered your face as you helped him sit up. His eyes immediately went to the patch of discoloured wood. His glare was upon you in seconds.

“You were badly injured! You looked dead, it was all I could think of,” you muttered the last bit.

He continued to glare but deep down he was impressed with your quick thinking. He would have been fine after a while but in their environment, the crows could have torn him to pieces before he healed. His glare softened at the worried frown on your face. His hand covered yours in what he hoped was comfort before he tried to stand. You helped him, your hand on his arm but he shrugged you off, darting his eyes across his fallen puppets. You proceeded to collect them, including the one you hacked up.

“It’s ripped at every edge, can’t you make a new one rather than add more weight??”

With a blank expression on his face, he shrugged and threw the puppet on the sand. He started walking, wanting to get the two of you out that damned desert. As you fell into step beside him, you turned his head and smiled. You felt your heart stop in your chest.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You nodded, dumbfounded and red-faced. You composed yourself after a moment of inner fangirling and smiled back, the pain in your head forgotten as though his smile and your own was the medicine you needed. Of course, Sasori noticed your discomfort and handed you pain meds with a click of his tongue. The two of you continued with your mission, but first, Sasori needed a shirt that would cover the odd colouring of his stomach.

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namjoonchronicles · 6 years

Text

Possessive – [BTS] Dad!Yoongi Au

[A/N] This fancam is a blessing to us all. Gimpo Fansign, you will be engraved in my heart.

“We had a deal Yoongi. I make the lunch, and you write the supportive messages on their lunchboxes.”

“But I don’t want to,” he whined cutely, not forgetting the all-too-famous pout, “They’re so corny. Why would we do this?”

“Because it’s corny.” You spat back at him and handed him the pen. “I’m going to check on the kids, make sure you’re finished once they’re fully dressed.” He squeezed his lips protruded at you, uncapping the pen and started writing while you try to get first little Yoongi and second little Yoongi. The boys are as excited as ever. Glancing back at him, you saw Yoongi starting to scribble something and you smiled to yourself. He shoved the prettily written notes into the bag, sealed along with their water bottles. The boys ran out the room with their little bags and tethered around Yoongi’s legs. “Are you guys ready for school?” He asked, fixing his glasses as he reached for the car keys, hung by the fridge.

“Mummy? Is Mummy all dressed up and ready to go?” He asked the boys, and shifted his gaze to you when you walked out with your blazers through one arm, shutting the door behind you. “…Yup.” You answered cutely and followed your little ones. Yoongi had the first born and you had the second born. Yoongi refers them simply as, “Number 1” and “Number 2”. They’re twins, but so exceptionally different from each other, it’s so mind-baffling. Yoongi helped load their bags in the trunk, while you fastened the kids to their seat. Done with your task, you sat in the front passenger seat, asking the boys what song they want to hear. They spontaneously answered at once. And to be honest, you agreed.

Yoongi shut the trunk and walked to the driver side, a familiar beat was playing. He didn’t give it too much attention until he opens the car door and heard ‘Tony Montana’ was on full blast.

He was immediately flustered when he heard Agust D’s verse began to play. He stabbed the eject button repeatedly and as if the car stereo was possessed, it won’t response. “How do I even stop this? Why is this not doing what I tell it to do? Whose idea was this?” He finally had the stereo ejecting the audio CD. And when the sounds stopped, he placed it in his laps, exhaling through his nose while biting his lower lip like he had just committed a crime. The boys, and you openly howled “No… That was our jams! Daddy! No fair.” The boys all protested with their arms up in the air then down to each side. “What ever happen to good nursery rhymes? Why are you teaching our children nonsense?” He shot at you and placed the CD into its casing and underneath the dashboard while asking the boys for a cushion before hitting you on your lap, with it. “Seriously, that was supposed to be painful?” You mumbled, nonchalantly with half-shut eyes.

“…How did you guys ever found out about that song?” Yoongi placed the cushion on your lap and send the car engine going. “Don’t answer that.” He darted before any of you could answer. But the boys, being as rebellious as you are, exposed that, “Mummy listened to it the other day when she’s cleaning the house, and we liked it.”

Number 2, who still had his baby tongue, gurgled a laugh, “…Tony Montana shit—“

“Oh my goodness.” Yoongi muttered against the steering wheel. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, seeing how flabbergasted he got when he heard it. “Alright, here’s the deal. No one is listening to this mixtape. That includes you, Mummy. I’m taking it away.” He passed a warning pair of eyes through the rear view mirror. “So when do we get to hear them again, daddy?” First born kindly enquired. “When you turned 40.” Yoongi spat. You turned your head behind, to the boys when the car started moving at green, “…Mummy has a copy of it, don’t worry. Mummy has three, just in case Daddy deletes one.” You winked at them.

Soon, they arrive in school. When Yoongi had the car parked, you snatched a tissue box from the car and brought them with you. An older lady passed you when you leave your car, certain that Yoongi had everything with the boys and is walking ahead of you. She smiled and eyed the tissue box.

“…There’s a first for everything. I remembered the first I sent my first born. When you get to the third one, it doesn’t feel as bad.” She commented. “…You’ll get better.”

You snapped your head at her and shake your head, “Oh, these are not for me. They’re for my husband.”

She passed you a confused look but bid you farewell in peace, anyways. The orientation begins and Yoongi stood by you, he’s holding cameras for the children. Calling them at two minutes interval to have a picture snap. “Why are you taking so much pictures for?” You slapped his forearm, looking around at other parent who are very composed. “…This is for the scrapbooks.” He said, poking his eyes through the eye-piece and panned the camera to you. “Baby, smile.” He commanded. With his black hair and black-rimmed glasses, he was turning several young teacher’s heads. He had black turtlenecks on brown blazers, fit for autumn look and you just want to get away from all these attentions you were having for walking in with such an attractive husband.

“Another one.” He chirped, and you heard the shutter go. The microphone starts rustling, and the principal tapped twice on them to check if it was working. Yoongi, for once, started paying attention. He placed his hand on top of the other, fixated on his knee, sitting cross-legged next to you, where all the parents are gathered. As the principal gave his warm welcome through a buttery speech, Yoongi pressed his lips together, leaning to the side at you, he tilted his chin upward a bit, to whisper, “…Someone had a bad hair day.” So you trailed your eyes on the educator line-up and saw one women with super curly hair, bobbed-cut, standing out at every direction, to which you slapped his chest with the back of your hand, urging him to retract to his seat. “…Marvellous crowd we have here today, with a lot of supportive parents…” The principal resumed talking. “Also, we’d like to thank the donations coming from Mr. Min Yoongi and his wife, for the new IT and Science building expected to be completed no longer than three months.”

What? A donation?

“…Yoongi? What donation?” You sang. Yoongi smiled proudly before he waves around to thank everybody, he even got up and bowed to everybody as a sign of respect. “…Just a few thousand.” He beamed, but you had a sense that it’s gone a little more than that, “…You mean ten thousand.” To which he confirmed,

“About fifty?” Yoongi gave you a thin smile that sits between guilt and fear. “Fifty thousand.” You gave him a pair of steely eyes.

“It’s for the kids’ future…” He defended himself, clasping his fingers together again. “What about our future?” You shot back.

Yoongi swings his head to you, smiling like a fool. “…You know you don’t have to worry about that. We’re good for another two offspring, if you could put up with it.” He winks at you and you went for his nipples, poking his sides, punishing him while he winced cutely. “I can’t believe you would say that. In public? You have a lot of guts in you.” You muttered while attacking him mercilessly.

Now that the welcoming session and orientation is coming to an end, the teachers collected the children and Yoongi watches them go inside the school. They waved back cutely. “Take care of each other!” He yelled a bit and starts sniffing. Here comes the waterworks.

You handed him a tissue from the tissue box you took with you. “They grow up so fast…” He wipes his tears. “One minute you were catching them all bloodied in your palms, the size of Jimin’s two hands combined, and the next, they’re walking, waddling to school. I swear, in two seconds, they’ll be as big as Jungkook and travelling to Seoul to be Kpop idols. And then my headaches will start.” Yoongi starts hiccupping. You pressed a stricken smile on your face as you pass him another tissue.

The children are climbing the stairs, into the main entrance as other parents watched. The older lady that greeted you earlier about the tissue box gave you a knowing smile and lightly patted your shoulder as she goes. “Sweetheart, we should go.” You rubbed his back, coaxing him to leave. “Five more minutes.” He stifled.

“…You said that, ten minutes ago. We have to go to work. We’re going to be late.” You squeezed his shoulder and finally he starts moving, but not before glancing numerous time at the entrance, just in case, “…the boys wanted to go home.” You had to drag him by the arm and have him seated on the front passenger’s seat while you took the driver seat, next to him. “…Why in the world would you introduce that mixtape to them?” He laid his head back to the headrest, still annoyed by the horrible truth that happened earlier. “…Hey. That was the best mixtape you have ever produced, of all time. Have some respect.” You defended. Yoongi rolled his eyes to the side where the streets are moving while you drive. “…That mixtape is not age appropriate.” He crossed his arm, “…We’re listening to twinkle-twinkle little star from today onwards.” Yoongi sounded like he had made his mind.

“You mean your version of twinkle-twinkle little star? The remix you made when they were two?” You asked, and you started scoffing. Yoongi snapped his head to you, “…Don’t underestimate the power of twinkle-twinkle little star. I have Namjoon producing it just the way I wanted. That remix version had the boys smiling all the time. Mind you.” He turned to the window view again. “…Fine. Serendipity is good too. Why won’t you let Jimin do the singing for this new remix version of twinkle-twinkle little star? He’ll sound amazing. The boys will like him.”

“Because Jimin has a crush on you. So that’s a no.” Yoongi spat. “Yoongi. That was a bazillion years ago, can you stop?” You darted. “I am terribly possessive to what’s mine. I thought you knew that. I’m starting to hate that school for taking my children away. That principal is lucky I was nice. I would have gone back to the school to retrieve my children.” Yoongi muttered, sulking to his side.

“I swear, you will only get cuter as time passes by.” You commented. “I don’t want to be cute, I want another child.” Yoongi shot.

“So what did you wrote on their lunchbox?” “Something important.”

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justonesongmore · 7 years

Text

XXII: 1922

On Cavalier Adoptions, Damned Conventions, and the Inertia of the Dispossessed

1. A. C. (Eck) Robertson: “Sallie Gooden”

The story goes that the two Texans entered New York City in full fancy dress, 35-year-old Eck Robertson in a spangled cowboy outfit, and his 75-year-old partner Henry C. Gilliland in old Confederate Army togs, his own. They went straight to the Victor offices and insisted on cutting a record; whether because the talent manager thought he could sell it, or just to get the hicks out of the office, “Sallie Gooden” b/w “Arkansas Traveler” was the result. “Traveler” was the duet, “Gooden” a solo piece by Eck: and if it’s not exactly the first country record (studio professionals had been cutting Ozark reels and string-band minstrelsy for years), it’s the first made by genuine rural Southerners. Thirteen variations in three minutes: Robertson rarely recorded again, but he laid a pattern for all old-time to follow.

2. Ory’s Sunshine Orchestra: “Society Blues”

Meanwhile, the first genuine Black New Orleans jazz records were recorded in the sleepy backwater then still becoming the cinematic boomtown of Los Angeles, California, to be sold out of a store also owned by the proprietor of the recording studio. Edward “Kid” Ory was a successful Creole jazz trombonist whose band had included King Oliver and a young cornetist named Armstrong back in the Crescent City; he had decamped to the West Coast after Storyville’s closure in 1917, and the band he put together in the Golden State was, if not the toast of Rampart Street, respectable. Ory would wend to Chicago within the next few years, where he would fall in with old Orleanian friends, but that’s a story for another time. “Society Blues,” halfway between classy and kidding, is mellow as a porch conversation.

3. Alberta Hunter: “Down Hearted Blues”

Another legendary figure of twentieth-century music bows onto the stage. Alberta Hunter, who was born and bred in Memphis but made her name in Chicago, is of the generation of performers who, like her fellow Southern-born, Northern-famed peers Ethel Waters and Florence Mills, fell halfway between the stools of cabaret and the blues, and was nearly forgotten by a history that prized the blues over cabaret and (which would come to mean the same thing) men over women. She had already toured Europe to great acclaim by the time she settled down to a Harlem club gig and cut this immortal blues, co-written with pianist (and possibly sometime lover) Lovie Austin. The following year, the century’s most famous blues shouter would notch it as her first smash record, but Hunter’s sly, sashaying take emphasizes its essential theatricality.

4. Marion Harris: “I’m Just Wild about Harry”

The biggest hit from Shuffle Along, the all-Black musical which took New York by storm in 1921 and kickstarted a decade of Black excellence, “I’m Just Wild about Harry” took a year to get onto record. Partly the delay served to deracinate the tune, to transform it from an unembarrassed declaration of Black love (it was originally written as a waltz, in an even more overt challenge to racial norms) to a raggy burst of pep that anyone, in these dance-band days, could turkey-trot or whistle: F. Scott Fitzgerald coined “the Jazz Age” in 1922, the perfect descriptor of such cavalier white adoption of Black forms. Marion Harris had always sung Black, sometimes exaggeratedly so, but only the broad syncopation and extra pep of the last few choruses gestures in that direction here; she simply sounds American.

5. Ed Gallagher and Al Shean: “Oh! Mister Gallagher and Mister Shean”

The background hum to popular culture in the 1920s—as it had been since the 1880s—was vaudeville, the stage circuit mechanism by which the entire country absorbed roughly the same songs, dances, slapstick, patter, and acrobatics as the big cities, though delayed. Ephemeral by design, but calcified enough that the right act could get forty years out of the same routine, the ethos of vaudeville was desperation; you never knew what would work, so you played as broad as possible. Gallagher and Shean, an Irishman and a German Jew respectively, reportedly loathed each other, but their shared song, as tightly structured as a sonnet, was bigger than either of them: they could and did swap out verses every time, which makes this double-sided record’s domestic-abuse and skin-color jokes revealing as an indication of what sold.

6. Jack Buchanan: “And Her Mother Came Too”

While the Broadway theatrical songwriting machine was entering its second decade of eminence, its West End equivalent was rather more sedate. The young British songwriter who posed the greatest challenge to the imported Berlins, Kerns, and Gershwins was Welshman Ivor Novello. “Keep the Home Fires Burning” had been a wartime favorite, but it was in the 1920s that his songwriting really bloomed. This entry, on the surface a mere one-note mother-in-law joke in age-old music-hall tradition, has a more nuanced harmonic structure than strictly necessary, and especially given eternal Drones Club habitué Jack Buchanan’s urbane, ever so slightly camp delivery, the joke destabilizes, becoming less about a too-enthusiastic chaperone and more like a Wodehousian parody of Vincent O’Sullivan’s classic 1912 Decadent novella The Good Girl, about a simpleton increasingly entangled by a family of moral vampires.

7. Sara Martin: “Tain’t Nobody's Bus’ness if I Do”

On the right hand side of the label is printed the legend “Contralto Solo / Piano Accomp. by T. Waller.” And so another of the giants of early jazz piano bobs to the surface here, accompanying Miss Sara Martin, one of the half-dozen or so essential blues-not-blues singers of the decade, on a song that will become an urban blues standard, evolving in many directions over the course of the century. But here, in its original ragtime-blues form, written by African-American songwriter Porter Grainger and Mamie Smith sideman Everett Robbins, “Nobody’s Business” is a perfect marriage of defiant, antisocial (because society is dangerous) blues tradition and Tin Pan Alley hokum, setting the template for the theatrical blues tradition of the 1930s and 40s which songwriters like Harold Arlen or Hoagy Carmichael would turn into vernacular American pop.

8. Lucille Hegamin and her Blue Flame Syncopaters: “Aggravatin’ Papa (Don’t You Try to Two-Time Me)”

In fact, some white songwriters were there already. Composer J. Russel Robinson, a Hoosier, was a ragtime pianist who had supplied W. C. Handy’s publishing company, and lyricist Roy Turk was a New York native whose slangy, sentimental songs helped to define the Jazz Age. Three years earlier, “Aggravatin’ Papa” might have been a Coon song—the Southern setting, the stereotypically trifling man, the understated threats of violence could all have been delivered by a blackface singer for laughs—but instead Black singers and players adopted it and turned it into a blues standard, starting with Lucille Hegamin. Her delivery, using the blues trick of repeating the end of a line where a solo would otherwise go, is cheerful, almost delighted to tear into the juicy threats she’s making, while her Syncopaters swoon woozily around her.

9. Trixie Smith and the Jazz Masters: “My Man Rocks Me (With One Steady Roll)”

The confluence of the words “rock” and “roll” in such a way that makes it obvious they were already conjoined in a familiar phrase decades before they got pinned to a backbeat is perhaps the least noteworthy thing about this record. Trixie Smith was a genuine Southern Black singer, born and raised in Georgia, but not a gutbucket blues singer: her upbringing had been genteel, and her singing, as here, tended toward the light and winsome. Nevertheless, “My Man Rocks Me” is among the first great single-entendre blues records, so hot (though entirely by implication) that a parental warning logo would have had to be slapped on it in the CD era. Written by Chicago-based songwriter and publisher J. Berni Barbour, it’s performed here at such a languorous drag, with a deep-stroking trombone, that it’s practically tantric.

10. Eva Tanguay: “I Don’t Care”

In 1922 she was forty-four and long past her wasp-waisted prime; but back when she was the chaotic, hair-flowing, man-eating, lung-bursting Quebecois-born sensation of the Naughty Oughts, she hadn’t bothered to step before a recording horn, and so this is all we have of her: her signature song, some fifteen years late. But if this is a shadow of her former self, what must she have been like in her strength? Her voice is blown out, her tempos all scattered as the studio musicians attempt to keep up with her lurches from faux-maudlin verses to the roaring, flippant chorus, still as strong a fuck-you to the propriety, daintiness, and demureness of the ideal woman as it ever was. If the fuck-you sounds rather more ghostly today, it isn’t because women are expected to care any less.

11. Georgel: “La garçonne”

But the “I-Don’t-Care Girl” had been a model for a whole generation of women now reaching adulthood who disdained the voluminous skirts and hairstyles of their mothers. The flapper, as she was known in English, had her equivalent in every nation: but when Victor Margueritte’s sensationalistic lesbian 1922 French novel La garçonne was bowdlerized into English the same year, it was called The Bachelor Girl. The topical song of the same name by Vincent Scotto (lyrics by a pair of hacks) sneers at women who bob their hair, dress in mannish attire, and choose not to flirt with men, predicting a lonely, cruel dotage for any woman who doesn’t embrace motherhood. Georgel’s rendition was a hit, but the last verse was often omitted, and the androgynous garçonne’s sleek, stylish, and damn-the-conventions poise became a decade’s aspiration.

12. Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra: “I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise”

Having come into a minor fortune on the unexpected success of “Swanee,” the young, prolific, and ambitious composer George Gershwin soon found himself writing music for George White’s Scandals, meant as stiff competition for Ziegfeld’s Follies. The first (and perhaps only) immortal song from that series of revues, “Stairway to Paradise” was the young man’s first compositional triumph, a winding musical ascent to match the twin curved staircases in the stage show, with blues harmonics to accentuate its modernity and jazz it away from typical revue politesse. The orchestra pit for the number was directed by celebrity conductor Paul Whiteman, and his later recording with his Orchestra, leaving out the less-impressive lyrics, is one of the great dance-band records of the era, sweetly winging Gershwin’s hypermelodic expression of that rarest of emotions in pop music—joy.

13. Conchita Piquer: “El florero”

Among the many sensations which took place seemingly nightly on New York stages in the early 1920s, the debut of a sixteen-year-old Valencian soubrette in drag as a flower-selling boy in El gato montés (The Wild Cat), a successful Spanish operetta undergoing a respectable Broadway run, has largely been forgotten in English-language circles. But the tale goes that a representative from Columbia rushed backstage during the intermission to sign her to a two-year recording contract, only to discover that not only didn’t she speak English, she had only a vague grasp of Castilian. Thirty years later Concha Piquer would be the grand dame of Spanish copla, a long-reigning movie star and one of the most recognizable Spanish-language singers in the world; Broadway’s ability to generate stars without even noticing was at its peak in the 1920s.

14. Baiano: “Eu só quero é beliscá”

In February of 1922, the Teatro Municipal of São Paulo hosted a week of art exhibitions, lectures, concerts, and poetry readings called the Semana de Arte Moderna: it was ground zero for Brazilian modernism, an explosive, controversial, and thoroughly regional rejection of European norms in favor of miscegenated, tropical Brasilidade. But the middle-class intellectuals and artists promoted by the Semana were conflicted about the street-level sambas and batuques with which the urban masses—not to mention hustling commercial songwriters—expressed themselves, just as Anglo modernists were ambivalent or worse towards jazz. This cateretê (tr. “I Just Want a Pinch”) by Eduardo Souto, with its dense paulista slang, faux-tribal rhythms, and anti-authoritarian stance (the song’s satirical object is cops shaking down street vendors) was just as modernist as Oswald de Andrade’s poems or Tarsila do Amaral’s paintings.

15. Alcides Briceño y Jorge Añez: “La soldadera”

Belisario de Jesús García was a soldier in the Mexican Revolution who fought on the side of the Carrancista revolutionaries who murdered Emiliano Zapata; the same year, he published his first song, “La soldadera.” The word literally means “the woman who receives payment for taking care of a soldier,” and could refer to a wife or domestic or (more likely) camp follower, but in the Mexican Revolution it was applied to the hundreds and thousands of women who took up arms in the cause, whether perforce or otherwise. This version of García’s imitation corrido was recorded in New York by a Panamanian-Colombian duo who would sing anything in Spanish regardless of nationality, with studio hacks on instrumentation; despite which, it’s been wisely adopted by Mexico as one of the great early records of Mexican vernacular pop.

16. Carlos Gardel: “El tango de la muerte”

Not the “Tango de la muerte” written by the little-known Horacio Mackintosh in 1917, which is an instrumental; this tango was written (music and lyrics) by Alberto Navión, a French-born, Uruguay-raised composer for the Argentine theater whose work was often uneven; the sainete which introduced this song has been dismissed as mediocre, but Gardel getting his pipes on any song elevates it. And in fact, a song of typically Latin despair which may have been risible or banal in the theater is transformed into a throbbing report from the depths of depression on record. Bounded by the strict strums of guitarists Guillermo Barbieri and José Ricardo, Gardel’s voice moors in self-pitying baritone melancholy, and flutters up to keening tenor remorse. He wants to die, and only the milonga (criollo dancehall, birthplace of tango) keeps him alive.

17. La Niña de los Peines: “Tango de la tontona”

It is a great piece of foolishness that she has not appeared here before: her first record was cut in 1905, when she was fifteen. But in 1922, the distinguished Spanish composer Manuel de Falla and a young, scarcely-known poet named García Lorca organized the first Concurso de Cante Jondo, or Deep Song Contest, in Granada, the Andalusian city which could reasonably claim to be among the birthplaces of flamenco. Pastora Pavón, already at thirty-two the greatest cantaora of all time, was the only woman on the judging panel. This song (set to the relatively new “tango” palo) addressing a foolish, heartbreaking girl was an early favorite of her repertoire, and one of a series of records she cut in 1922, accompanied by guitarist Luis Molina. It only hints at the astonishing depths of her voice.

18. El Tenazas de Morón: “Yo he andaito la Francia (Seguiriyas de Silverio)”

But the great revelation of the Granada Concurso was Diego Bermúdez of the Sevillian town Morón de la Frontera, a septuagenarian who had retired from flamenco singing in the nineteenth century after having been stabbed: flamenco was once a disreputable, dangerous field. His archaic style was received rapturously by the musicologists and mystic nationalists in the audience, who considered it a direct link to the authentic Roma origins of flamenco song as represented by the legendary prototypical cantaor Silverio Franconetti, and as opposed to modern syncretic theatricalized flamenco, sullied by commercialism and mass media. On being (re)discovered, Bermúdez (nicknamed Tenazas, or Tongs) recorded several platters of quavering, ancient flamenco, a set which Falla would carry with him into exile. But his moment in the sun was short-lived; the following year, El Tenazas was laid to rest.

19. Naftule Brandwein: “Kallarash”

We have heard him before on records credited to other bandleaders, particularly Abe Schwartz, but this is the moment where the foremost klezmer clarinetist of the era before anyone called the music klezmer struck out on his own. Born into a family of Hasidic musicians in what was then called Polish Galicia (present-day Ukraine) and having emigrated to the US in 1908 at nineteen, Brandwein was a showman, even a showboat, who would sometimes perform with a self-promoting neon sign around his neck, or play with his back to the audience so as not to give away his proprietary fingering techniques. “Kallarash,” subtitled “A Bridal Dedication,” is a slow-then-fast dance memorializing a town in Romanian Bessarabia. It’s a perfect showcase for his overtly emotional, flashily sentimental style, a virtuosic display for a Hendrix of the clarinet.

20. A. Z. Idelsohn und Männerchor: “Hava Nagila”

Abraham Zvi Idelsohn, born in present-day Latvia, worked as a cantor in Europe and South Africa before emigrating to Palestine in the years of the Second Aliyah, when European Jews fled pogroms in the Russian Empire in the hope of establishing a Zionist state in Palestine. Idelsohn’s musical training led him to take an interest in the Jewish music of Palestine, and his ethnomusicological work is some of the most comprehensive in the field. In setting his own words to an old melody traced to the diaspora in the Ukraine, he is considered the author of “Hava Nagila,” and when the German label Polydor, then making one of the first music-industry attempts to comprehensively document folkloric music, invited him to record some of his collection, he conducted a choir in one of the era’s folk-art hybrids.

21. Fisk University Jubilee Singers: “I Ain’t Goin’ to Study War No More”

The ancient Jewish poetic image, given in the prophet Isaiah, of reshaping implements of warfare into implements of agriculture is one of the most powerful in all religion: and one of its most beautiful expressions was the work of anonymous (to us, if not to Heaven) men and women enslaved in the southern United States, probably less than two hundred years ago. As with most art made by Black Americans, there are double and treble meanings to “Down by the Riverside”— the Ohio was perhaps more salient than the Jordan, whether the one in Israel or the one in Bunyan, and ending the study of war doesn’t necessarily mean forgoing violent struggle anymore than the end of school is the end of work. Even the pious, unhurried reading given by four Fisk men here contains multitudes.

22. Feodor Chaliapin: “Ey, ukhnem!”

First attested by Russian composer and folk song-collector Mily Balakirev in 1866, the title of this work chant could be transliterated “Hey, Heave To!” but became known in English as “The Song of the Volga Boatmen,” thanks to the widespread popularity of Russian basso Feodor Chaliapin, who toured constantly in Europe and the Americas starting in 1901. It became his signature song in solo concerts, as his rich voice raised in the cry of the vodoliv, or leader of a gang of burlaks (dispossessed peasants with nothing but muscle and the collective force of their own inertia to sell) who were hired to tow barges down the Volga, from Moscow to the Caspian Sea, in the ages before ships could run under their own power. That Russian solution of throwing raw population at a problem would recur.

#1920s

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