#B-flat diminished

[anthonyopal]

anthonyopal.com | theeconomypress.com

[waugh-bao]

Rolling Stones Setlist (May 2024, New Orleans)

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part eleven

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst

As your friends turned their gazes toward you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern, the weight of recent events clung to you like a heavy cloak. Their expectant smiles dimmed, replaced by furrowed brows and questioning eyes, as they sensed the solemnity in your demeanor.

In a flat, defeated tone, you broke the heavy silence. "I did it," the words escaped your lips, laden with the weight of compliance and defeat, echoing in the room. The defeated admission lingered, casting a shadow over the otherwise buoyant atmosphere among your friends.

Their expressions shifted, registering a mix of surprise and concern at your defeated confession. Unspoken questions hung in the air, their curiosity piqued yet tempered by an unspoken understanding that delving deeper might unravel complexities beyond the surface. The heaviness of the moment remained, leaving a silent tension that begged for explanation yet seemed to weigh down any further inquiry.

As JJ observed the room, concern etched across his features, his gaze fixed upon you, his best friend. The usual camaraderie that defined your bond had been strained by a recent disagreement, yet beneath the rift, his concern for you remained steadfast.

He noted the sadness etched into your expression, a furrow in his brow signaling his genuine worry. Despite the tension between you both, his concern eclipsed any personal grievances, his heart aching at the sight of your evident distress.

A flicker of conflict danced in his eyes, torn between wanting to bridge the gap between you and respecting the boundaries you'd set in your disagreement. His unspoken longing to offer comfort battled against the silence that hung heavily in the room, leaving an unspoken yearning that mirrored the complexities of your relationship.

You, attempting to veer away from the evident heaviness, interjected with forced casualness. "So, how did things go with you guys? Were you successful?" Your voice strained to mask the underlying sadness, attempting to divert the conversation away from the palpable tension in the room.

Your friends, taken aback by the sudden shift, exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions reflecting confusion and uncertainty. Caught off guard, they found themselves momentarily at a loss, their reactions muted as they grappled with the abrupt transition from somberness to what seemed like normalcy.

In their shared hesitation, their gazes met in silent inquiry, seeking guidance in navigating this unexpected shift. Each held back their words, sensing the unspoken turmoil lingering beneath the surface but unsure of how to acknowledge it without diminishing the weight of your emotions. The room lingered in an awkward pause, the unspoken tension enveloping the space, leaving everyone grappling for the right words to bridge the unspoken divide.

"Oh yeah," John B coughed, attempting to shatter the uncomfortable silence enveloping the room. "We got in and out pretty quickly. Sarah distracted Ward, and we got our stuff and left."

His words sliced through the tension, offering a lifeline to redirect the conversation towards a more mundane topic. There was a palpable sense of relief in his tone, a subtle attempt to lift the weight of the atmosphere by focusing on the successful mission.

The mention of their recent undertaking brought a semblance of normalcy to the room, a welcome distraction from the heavy emotions that had lingered moments ago. Yet, despite the shift, a trace of unease still hung in the air, a reminder of the unresolved emotions that continued to simmer beneath the surface.

"That's good, I'm glad," you replied in a dry tone, your words lacking enthusiasm as you tried to engage in the conversation without revealing the emotional turmoil within. Your gaze remained averted, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Your response, though attempting to maintain the facade of normalcy, held a hint of detachment, an indication of your struggle to engage while grappling with the weight of your emotions. The room remained steeped in an uncomfortable silence, the unspoken tension palpable despite the attempt to steer the conversation toward a lighter topic.

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay?" Sarah's voice carried genuine concern, her eyes reflecting worry as she observed your withdrawn demeanor. You responded with a slight, unconvincing nod, reluctant to disclose the emotional upheaval from the revelations of what transpired with Rafe the night before.

Your gesture masked the whirlwind of emotions swirling within, a shield to conceal the inner turmoil you weren't prepared to unpack. Admitting the revelations from the prior night felt daunting, leaving you hesitant to reveal the intricate complexities that had unfolded in the intimate moments with Rafe.

"I'm gonna go lay down for a bit, didn't get much sleep last night," you announced, excusing yourself from the room, your words a veiled attempt to distance yourself from the mounting curiosity of your friends. As you departed, their exchanged glances held a collective air of puzzlement and concern, further intrigued by your sudden departure.

JJ, in particular, fixated his gaze on you, observing with an intensity that hinted at his lingering worry and a desire to understand the hidden layers behind your solemn disposition. His unwavering focus followed you as you retreated into one of the bedrooms, leaving the others pondering the unspoken events of the night before, intrigued by the cryptic nature of the situation.

You stepped into the room and collapsed onto the bed, tears welling in your eyes as you gazed up at the ceiling, recounting the events with Rafe from the night before. Attempting to stifle any sounds, you bit down on your lip, hoping to conceal the incoming rush of emotions.

Despite your efforts, a surge of sorrow and guilt overwhelmed you. Your resolve shattered, and silent whimpers escaped your lips, swiftly escalating into uncontrollable sobs. The weight of your actions washed over you, an avalanche of regret and sorrow flooding your heart.

As you lay there, the burden of toying with Rafe's emotions and the sensation of a lost opportunity bore down heavily on your conscience. The tears flowed freely, a testament to the remorse and heartache consuming you, leaving you feeling broken and distraught over the pain you might have caused.

Internally, a storm of self-reproach raged within you as you cursed your actions and words from the night before, grappling with the weight of your choices. The regret gnawed at your insides, a relentless barrage of thoughts tormenting your conscience.

Your mind fixated on Rafe, wondering how he might be feeling in that moment. The worry and guilt intertwined, forming a tangled knot of concern for his emotions, as you tried to envision the impact of your actions on him. The uncertainty of his state left you feeling restless, your heart heavy with the weight of remorse and the unspoken turmoil between you both. The impulse to reach out and apologize to Rafe surged within you, an earnest desire to mend what felt irreparably broken. Yet, a wave of hesitation washed over you, the realization sinking in that a call might only exacerbate the pain.

As much as the urge to apologize clawed at your conscience, a voice of reason prevailed. You reasoned with yourself, acknowledging that reaching out at that moment might only reopen wounds, adding further distress to an already tumultuous situation. The prospect of causing him more pain held you back, compelling you to reluctantly stifle the impulse to apologize, despite the ache of remorse festering within.

Amidst the whirlwind of tears and internal turmoil, a soft knock resonated through the room, interrupting the overwhelming flood of emotions. Your heart skipped a beat, the sound piercing through the chaos of your thoughts. Trying to compose yourself, you hastily wiped away the tears and cleared your throat, the remnants of distress still evident in your trembling breath. "Yes?" you called out, your voice betraying hints of recent emotional upheaval, as you awaited a response from the other side of the door.

"Y/n, it's just me." With a small sigh of recognition, you acknowledged JJ's voice from behind the door. Gathering yourself, you made an effort to compose your appearance, wiping away a few stray tears and taking a moment to steady your breath before approaching the door. With cautious steps, you crossed the room, the weight of recent emotions still lingering within. As you reached the door, you unlocked it and turned the knob, allowing JJ's entry into the room. You tried to muster a faint smile, a feeble attempt to mask the lingering traces of distress that clung to your features.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," JJ expressed, his concern evident in his tone as he observed your demeanor. "You seemed pretty upset out there." You met his gaze, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance flickering in your eyes. His genuine concern softened the edges of your distress, yet the weight of your emotions remained palpable. You attempted to offer a reassuring nod, hoping to alleviate his worry while simultaneously shielding the depths of your unrest.

"I'm fine, JJ," you stated in a dry tone, attempting to downplay the intensity of your emotions. "Just didn't sleep much last night, is all."

Despite your attempt to reassure him, JJ sensed the falsehood in your words. Your best friend knew you well enough to recognize the facade you attempted to maintain. He furrowed his brow, contemplating the reason behind your evasiveness. The conflict between your words and the emotions radiating from your eyes left him perplexed, wondering who you were trying to convince with your falsehoods. Your eyes, a window to the disturbance within, betrayed the sadness and guilt you attempted to conceal. JJ pondered the intricacies of your emotional distress, unsettled by the disparity between your words and the truth that emanated from your gaze.

"C'mon, Y/n, you don't have to lie to me. You know you can tell me anything," JJ pleaded softly, his voice carrying a gentle plea for honesty. He moved closer, an unspoken gesture of support, silently urging you to confide in him, to offer even a glimpse into the reason behind your somber state. The sincerity in JJ's words tugged at your heartstrings, tempting you to unburden yourself. Yet, a part of you hesitated, grappling with the weight of the unspoken truths you weren't ready to reveal. The conflict within you was mirrored in JJ's unwavering gaze, his earnest plea for your trust amplifying the turmoil within.

The room lingered in a pregnant silence, the unspoken hovering between you both, as JJ patiently awaited a sign, a shred of vulnerability, anything that might offer insight into the heavy emotions weighing you down.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," you deflected, brushing aside JJ's concern with a forced nonchalance. Crossing your arms, you held yourself as if to contain the turmoil brewing within, a physical shield to guard the emotions threatening to spill out. Part of you longed to confide in JJ, to unburden the weight that pressed upon your heart. Yet, you felt like a tangled mess, grappling with emotions that words alone couldn't unravel. The situation had surpassed the realm of simple explanations; it was a complex web of conflicting emotions.

Your heart ached, torn between the anguish of the way things unfolded with Rafe and the overwhelming guilt of keeping secrets from him, all in allegiance to a promise made to your friends. The weight of these emotions felt suffocating, leaving you on the brink of emotional collapse, unsure if your heartache stemmed solely from your dealings with Rafe or from the layers of deception that weighed heavily upon you.

"Look, if this is about the thing with Rafe, you really don't have to—"

"Stop, okay? It's alright. I'm okay. I have to do this for you guys," you interjected, cutting off JJ's attempt to probe further. The firmness in your voice masked the battle going on inside of you, an attempt to halt the conversation from delving into the depths of your conflicted emotions.

Your words, though intended to reassure, held an undertone of inner struggle. The weight of your loyalty to your friends juxtaposed against the ache in your heart, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made to uphold a promise. The resilience in your tone masked the fragility beneath, a silent plea for the conversation to steer away from the complexities that burdened you.

JJ's expression softened with a mix of sadness and a sense of helplessness, feeling a partial responsibility for the emotional turmoil you were experiencing. He recognized the facade you presented, contrasting starkly with your usual vibrant self, now replaced by a reserved and quiet demeanor.

Standing in silence, JJ observed you with a compassionate gaze, acknowledging the pain etched in your eyes. He sensed your avoidance of eye contact, a silent plea to hold back the floodgate of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"You don't have to do this, Y/n. Look at what it's doing to you," he spoke gently, his voice carrying a quiet concern. His words held a plea for you to reconsider the sacrifices you were making for the sake of others, a heartfelt desire to alleviate the burden that weighed heavily upon you.

"Just drop it, JJ," you snapped, the sharpness in your tone piercing the air before you softened slightly. "Look, it's fine. I'm fine. I don't need you to worry about me," you asserted, your voice tinged with assertiveness, a shield against the vulnerability you were struggling to conceal.

Your conflicting emotions towards JJ added tension to the already strained atmosphere between you both since the disagreement. His expression fell, a mixture of frustration and helplessness clouding his features. The sense of hopelessness at breaking through to you battled against his stubborn determination.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on," JJ declared firmly, a steadfast insistence in his voice despite the emotional barriers that stood between you. He refused to yield, driven by concern and an unshakeable loyalty, even in the face of your resistance.

"JJ—" you began, interrupted as he pressed on, his voice filled with earnestness and concern.

"I mean it, Y/n. You're my best friend, I care about you, you know?" JJ's words were laden with sincerity, a heartfelt plea cutting through the tension between you both. His genuine worry overshadowed any remnants of the past disagreement. "Look, you can be as mad at me as you want for what happened before, but all I care about right now is making sure that you're okay, which clearly you're not, despite lying to my face that you are."

His words were a plea for honesty and a testament to the depth of his concern, revealing a vulnerability that mirrored the genuine care he held for you. Despite the rift between you, JJ's unwavering loyalty and concern for your well-being remained steadfast, urging you to drop the facade and confide in him.

You sighed, finally relenting to JJ's unwavering determination. "Rafe told me he loved me last night," you blurted out quickly, the confession tumbling out of you, your throat tightening with the weight of the admission. "It came out of nowhere, and I-I couldn't say it back, JJ. Sure, I've spent all this time with him and played this game for you guys, but I have to draw the line at that, right? I can't play with somebody's heart like that."

Your words carried the burden of guilt and conflict, the turmoil you had been grappling with now laid bare. The abrupt confession revealed the emotional turmoil you faced, torn between loyalty to your friends and the moral dilemma of toying with someone's feelings. The complexity of the situation weighed heavily on you, leaving you in a state of emotional disarray.

"Do you love him?" JJ's question, posed quietly and almost feebly, pierced the charged air between you. His piercing blue eyes searched yours, seeking some semblance of an answer, any hint of truth hidden within. You hesitated, grappling with the weight of JJ's inquiry. The intensity in his gaze demanded honesty, yet the answer seemed elusive, lost amidst the tangled web of emotions within you. A moment of silence stretched as you wrestled with the turmoil in your heart, struggling to articulate a response to JJ's poignant question.

"I... I can't answer that," you replied, your gaze faltering and drifting downward. The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, a confession that left JJ reeling with a tumult of emotions.

Your response struck JJ like a sudden blow, sending a sharp pang through his chest. The hesitation in your answer stirred an array of conflicting emotions within him. If you truly felt nothing for Rafe, the immediate response would have been a straightforward "no." Yet, the lingering uncertainty unsettled JJ deeply. He grappled with the notion that perhaps you harbored some sentiment for the person he considered an adversary, and the mere thought sickened him.

A battle waged within JJ, torn between self-reproach for inadvertently guiding you towards someone he deemed his enemy and an inexplicable ache that gnawed at his heart. The unexpected surge of emotions left him grappling with a sense of unease and turmoil he had never experienced before.

"You do love him," JJ stated flatly, answering for you, his voice devoid of its usual vibrancy. He gazed at you with an empty expression, his words falling heavily between you, laced with a tone of defeat and resignation. In that moment, you witnessed a look in JJ's eyes that shook you to the core—an almost tangible sense of his world crumbling around him, as if his entire essence was fractured.

"No, JJ, don't do this. I didn't choose this," you pleaded desperately, shaking your head in denial. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as a rush of emotions surged through you. Your voice trembled, quivering with the intensity of the feelings you struggled to contain. The sight of JJ's shattered demeanor pierced your heart.

"I know you didn't, Y/n. I'm not blaming you. You can't choose who you're in love with," JJ spoke softly, his tone carrying a compassionate understanding. His gaze lingered on you, as if lost in contemplation. His eyes traversed every contour of your face, observing your saddened yet undeniably beautiful features.

Internally, JJ admired you, silently acknowledging the depth of your emotions and the complexities of your heart. He couldn't help but think about how fortunate Rafe was to have someone like you who cared so deeply. Amidst the turmoil, a pang of longing tugged at JJ's heart, a desire for a similar kind of affection for himself. He contemplated the unspoken wishes and the intricate layers of emotions that lay beneath the surface of the moment.

"It doesn't matter now anyways, because I ruined it," you uttered through tearful sobs, your voice cracking with anguish. Looking up at JJ, your eyes reflected a profound sadness, a vulnerability laid bare for him to witness. "I should've said something else, I should've told him how much I care about him, I-"

"Shh, Y/n, it's okay," JJ cooed, enfolding you in a tender embrace, offering solace in the warmth of his arms. He planted a gentle kiss atop your head, a gesture of comfort amid the emotional turmoil. "You didn't ruin anything. Just give him some time right now. If he's as obsessed with you as half the guys on the island are, he's guaranteed to come crawling back," he remarked softly, his attempt at humor breaking through the somber moment. Despite the weight of the situation, JJ's attempt to lighten the mood offered a glimmer of relief, a touch of his familiar light-heartedness providing a brief respite from the heaviness of the emotions swirling between you.

Amidst a tearful laugh and a sniffle, you questioned, "Do you really think so?"

"I know he will. He'd be a fool not to," JJ reassured, mustering a weak smile despite the ache in his heart. His attempt to comfort you masked the sadness he felt within, his own emotions echoing the heartbreak of the moment. Gently, he ran his fingers through your hair as you nestled your head against his chest, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. Slowly, you tried to regulate your breathing, the rise and fall of JJ's chest offering a calming rhythm in the midst of emotional turmoil.

"Thank you, Jay," you expressed, meeting the gaze of the blue-eyed boy with a small but genuine smile of gratitude. He reciprocated with a subtle hum, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your temple. The touch lingered briefly, as if savoring the warmth and softness of your skin.

"Feeling better?" JJ inquired softly, his concern palpable in the gentle tone of his voice as he sought assurance that his efforts had brought some comfort to your distress.

"Yeah, I do. I think I'm just gonna lay down for a few, though. Wasn't lying when I said I didn't get much sleep," you admitted with a faint smile, grateful for JJ's comforting presence but still in need of some time alone to gather your thoughts and emotions.

"Understood. Get all the sleep you need. I'll be out in the living room if you need me," JJ responded with a small laugh, offering you a reassuring smile before gently releasing you from his embrace, allowing you the space you sought.

Taking solace in the quiet and the solitude of the room, you nestled back into bed, relishing the opportunity to collect your thoughts in peace. In the stillness, you found yourself fixating on your phone lying on the nightstand, its screen a silent invitation. Contemplation wrestled with your impulses, a conflict raging within as the desire to mend things clashed with the looming prospect of potential regret. Despite the uncertainty, an eagerness to take action tugged at your thoughts, urging you to reach for the phone and potentially take a step you knew might carry consequences.

Despite the attempts to suppress the impulse, you found yourself disregarding the swirling doubts and uncertainties. Pushing past the "what-ifs" and potential repercussions, you finally yielded to your longing and reached for your phone, succumbing to your impulses.

"Y/n?" The husky familiarity of the voice on the other end of the line sent a surge of butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach, a mix of nervousness and anticipation flooding your senses.

"Rafe," you breathed out, mustering courage, "we need to talk."

"I don't know if that's a good idea right now," came his uncertain response.

"Please, Rafe. This is important. Just trust me," you urged, a note of desperation seeping into your voice, hoping to convey the gravity of the situation and the necessity of the conversation you felt compelled to have.

"Okay, yeah," you heard Rafe sigh on the other end of the line. "When and where?"

A small smile graced your lips at Rafe's willingness to consider your request. A glimmer of hope flickered within you, grateful for the opportunity to address matters. Internally, you felt a surge of gratitude for this chance to navigate the conversation that held such importance.

"I'll be at your house in twenty," you confirmed, decisive in your tone, setting the time and place for the conversation you knew held significant weight.

⎯

The drive to Rafe's house felt like an eternity, each passing second adding to the mounting anxiety that gripped your chest. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as your mind played out a multitude of potential scenarios, each one more daunting than the last.

The scenarios were a relentless reel in your mind—what if Rafe had reconsidered everything? What if his feelings had shifted drastically overnight? The uncertainty of his response clawed at your thoughts, igniting a storm of doubts and fears that thundered through your mind.

The quiet road seemed to stretch endlessly, the passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across your face as the weight of the impending conversation settled heavily upon you. You wrestled with the anticipation, the car's interior filled with a tense energy that mirrored the turmoil in your mind.

The worst-case scenarios seemed to play on a loop, painting vivid pictures of rejection and misunderstanding. Each imagined conversation left you breathless, contemplating how Rafe might react, fearing the possibility of shattered hopes and unspoken words left hanging between you.

Your heart raced in tandem with the passing mile markers, the quiet hum of the engine providing an eerie backdrop to the cacophony of doubts echoing within. The nervous anticipation clawed at your resolve, as you fought to steady your emotions and prepare for the conversation that lay ahead.

Approaching Rafe's front door felt like traversing a minefield of emotions. Every step echoed the thud of your heart, the gravity of the impending conversation adding weight to each movement. The crunch of gravel beneath your shoes seemed unusually loud, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside.

A lump formed in your throat, making it difficult to swallow as you stood at the threshold. The polished wood of the door seemed to stare back at you, a silent barrier between uncertainty and resolution. The porch light cast a warm, inviting glow, yet it did little to soothe the nerves that coiled within.

You hesitated, your hand hovering in mid-air, fingers inches away from the doorbell. An internal battle raged between eagerness and apprehension, the conflict etched upon your features as you grappled with the momentousness of the impending conversation.

The cool evening breeze brushed against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine, a physical manifestation of the nervousness that held you in its grip. Each heartbeat felt thunderous in the silence, amplifying the significance of this pivotal moment.

With a deep breath, you finally pressed the doorbell, the sound reverberating through the quiet night like an ominous bell tolling the onset of an uncertain exchange. The chime echoed, resonating in the hushed neighborhood, signaling the initiation of a conversation that held the weight of countless emotions and unspoken truths.

"Y/n," Rafe greeted, opening the door with a hint of hesitation evident in his expression. His gaze swept over you, assessing your presence with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. "Come in, we can talk upstairs," he offered, gesturing for you to follow him into the house, the tension palpable in the air.

Ascending the stairs with Rafe, silence settled between you, allowing a moment for observation. Details of his home, once overlooked, now drew your attention—faint family portraits adorning the walls, the subtle scent of his familiar cologne lingering in the air, each detail offering a glimpse into his life beyond what you'd previously glimpsed.

Entering his room, Rafe motioned for you to go in first, a gesture that felt strangely significant. The creak of the door shutting behind you marked the transition into this private space, amplifying the weight of the impending conversation.

Rafe turned to face you, breaking the silence at last. "So, what's up?" he queried coyly, his demeanor masking any internal thoughts or emotions, leaving an air of uncertainty hanging between you.

"I do love you."

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[quantomeno]

@mysterysnail reblogged my post about Layton music saying they were trying to learn the basics about music.

I'm sure there are better resources, but here's what I know (skip to the very end if you just want to hear me analyse some Layton music).

Let's start with some definitions of things that make up music:

Notes: the individual sounds made by an instrument/voice. I often use it interchangeably with pitch, but they are different terms.

Pitch: How high or low the note is. In UK/US etc systems each pitch is given a letter name A to G then which repeats. Other European countries often use 'do re mi fa so la ti' instead. I don't know about other places because our system just copies the UK naming conventions and that's ingrained in my head.

Accidentals (sharps/flats): pitches are separated by semitones (half a tone), which is just a set distance in pitch (the Jaws theme, dah-duh, is two notes separated by one semitone. the second and third notes of Happy Birthday (-py birth-) is a tone, a gap twice the size). An increase or decrease by one semitone makes a note sharp or flat, respectively. You can get multiple notes with the same name (B sharp = C natural), this sounds confusing but it makes sense when you write/play music. Natural means there is no sharp or flat.

Scales: a set of notes ordered by ascending pitch. Each scale has a 'mood' or flavour associated with it. For example, minor scales are often considered sad, while major are happy. The flavour is determined not just by the choice of notes, but by the role of each note in the scale. Often a scale played starting from a different note will become a different scale (if you play C major starting from A, you get the A minor scale). This is because a new note has become the tonic, the base pitch that roots the scale.

Key: the scale used to write a piece of music. This is not always set in stone and deviations are allowed. It is determined by a mixture of factors, most importantly which pitch the piece is centred around. The key can change in a song (key change, or modulation).

Chord: a set of two or more notes played at once. Chords come in many types, but the typical three note chords are major, minor, diminished and augmented. They are named after the the note which defines the chord (e.g. CEG make the chord C Major).

Arpeggio: a chord split up so the notes are played separately.

Interval: the gap between two notes. These go unison (no gap), second (two 'letters', e.g. A to B), third, etc then octave for eight (A to A or C to C etc). After octave you can keep going with ninth etc, but it's rare for jumps that large. Intervals can also be classified as major, minor, perfect, diminished or augmented.

What's a little more generally useful than understanding each of these things is the elements that make up music:

Tempo: how fast/slow all the notes are

Rhythm: the duration of each note. The 'horizontal axis' in sheet music. It's different from tempo since you can play the same rhythm at different tempos. It's like word length in a sentence while tempo is how fast you say the words.

Melody: the movement up or down in pitch. The 'vertical axis' in sheet music. It is tied to the key of the music (the scale/set of notes the piece uses), but with a focus on direction and the 'shape' of the music.

Harmony: the consonance (agreeing sounds) or dissonance (clashing sounds) that occur when you have chords or layered melodies.

Chord progressions: moving from one chord to another, you get certain patterns. This is like the chord version of melody.

Texture: how many sounds are layered on top of each other. How thick/dense or thin/sparse the music is.

Dynamics: how loud or soft (quiet) the music is.

Timbre: the unique sound of the instrument. It's like how a note played on a piano sounds different to when it's played on the flute. This is qualified by adjectives like airy, metallic, brassy, warm, crisp, nasally etc.

Articulation: how the note is made. Is it detached from the other notes (staccato), is it smoothly joined (legato, slurred) is it emphasised (marcato, accented)? Some instruments have different ways of playing separate to these instructions, like a violin can play plucked (pizzicato) or bowed (arco) but it can still be staccato either way.

Ornamentation/improvisation/embellishment: grace notes, trills, glissandi, etc etc. These are little flourishes that add tiny little notes between other notes. I'm including improvisation here because these are all sort of playing around with the basic melody of a piece of music.

There are other things you could consider but this will do.

Below the read more, I'll apply some of these ideas to a song from Layton to illustrate how it all comes together

Let's use Folsense for our example because I happen to have the sheet music for it handy.

So, it opens with a solo piano. We've got melody in the upper register (high notes) and the chords in the lower register.

Note that this isn't the actual score. I think I adapted it from here.

It's fairly slow (63 beats per minute). This fits into how the town feels aged and weary.

The key is ostensibly F Major or D minor, due to the key signature (the sharps/flats before those two fours): there's one flat (B flat), which matches both those keys. This means every B will be B flat. You can see though that we have an accidental, an E flat, in the lower part, which doesn't fit with either of the proposed keys. The music also doesn't really anchor itself to an F or a D.

This can be felt in the music: Folsense sounds rather untethered and ethereal. The whole song, like the town itself, doesn't quite feel real or settled.

The sparseness adds to this, with only one or two instruments ever really playing at any moment. It evokes a sense of loneliness and emptiness: the town in the game feels oddly unpopulated and so does the music.

At about 35 seconds in we get a lot of long, sustained notes on the violin. These are bowed and quite smoothly connected, which almost exaggerates their length.

Note that the rhythms of the piano's chords don't line up with the violin. The violin notes are also of an unusual length. (I forgot to say this, but the two 4s at the start is the time signature and it means "4 crotchets per bar" where a crotchet (quarter note for Americans) is half a minim (half note) which is half a semibreve (whole note). 4 4 is the most common time sign, and means you can count the beat with an even 1, 2, 3, 4). The violin holds a note for three and a quarter beats. This length, combined with the (I'm getting flashbacks to high school exams, sorry) mismatched rhythms in the melody and harmony parts is unsettling, and further emphasises that something in Folsense is not quite right.

At 1:00 we get a return to the opening melody, but instead of accordion we have a trumpet (I think?). This has a brassy, nasally timbre. It feels warm, but there's a certain warbling quality to it which makes it sound plaintive and sad.

The melody is incredibly simple, and its often just ascending notes, with very small intervals. This, combined with the warmth of the strings, brass and accordion, along with the crip, clean sound of the piano, should evoke a sense of calm and maybe even joy. But there is a constant dissonance throughout the piece. It's notable in the second fragment I showed that while the second bar (bar 10, a bar is the space between two black lines and made of 4 beats in 4 4 time) had E flat major as the chord on the bottom (E flat, G, B flat), the melody plays an A, which uncomfortable sits one semitone below the B flat.

All music can be boiled down to tension and resolution. Unpleasant-sounding chords are only unpleasant in that the ear cries for them to be resolved. If you play the chords CEG (C major) then GBDF (G dominant 7th) on a piano, you'll feel a tension. If you play another CEG, it'll be resolved. Resolution feels complete, like the music has properly ended.

Here we have a tension that is never resolved, due to the lack of a defined key and the recurring dissonance, which creates this interplay between joy and sadness. Just like Folsense, brightly lit up but strangely quiet, the piece never feels right. It is trapped in a constant state of inertia, just like the town is stuck in the past and slowly decaying.

[thislovintime]

Photo from The Monkees Monthly.

“When he was nine years old, Peter Tork’s parents bought him a piano for $15. He taught himself to play and read music. But then his parents delivered an ultimatum: either take piano lessons or don’t touch the piano again.” - article by Lisa Stenza, Connecticut Daily Campus, February 26, 1982 “I owe a lot to my piano lessons. At one point I switched from playing Beethoven and Mozart to theory. And I learned how to spell chords, you know like, ‘what’s an F# minor chord?’ and when I took up guitar I would say, ‘OK, what’s the next note in such-and-such a chord above the note on the string? How many frets do I have to get up to, to play a note that’s in the chord I want.’ And I came up with some unusual formations too, like that add-4 chord I mentioned earlier. [i.e.] [In ‘For Pete’s Sake’] the chord on the word ‘Everything,’ — which is a 7-add-4, which is a highly unusual chord. It sort of fell out of my hands on the guitar. […] I wrote a set of chords [in college] once and thought, ‘Gosh, this is great.’ I couldn’t think of anything to do with them. A couple years later I wrote ‘Can You Dig It,’ to those chords. They were… let’s see: D-minor to B-flat major 7th to an E diminished 9th chord. That’s a really interesting way to set it up to the V chord. Or to look at it another way: we’re in A — Arab scale, which is — I don’t want to get too heavy. But it’s an unusual scale in Western music, in pop music. And it worked fine for me. I was just really glad. It just fell out of my hands again. It really felt good.” - Peter Tork, Shanley On Music, 2014 (x)

[bluespecter]

One thing about F&B that that fascinates me is Larys’ illustration. He is not described beyond his clubfoot; Lyonel is “balding and burly” and Harwin isn’t really described, either, though we can infer they all have (or Lyonel had lol) brown hair and brown eyes because Rhaenyra’s sons have brown hair and brown eyes.

Harwin is meant to be thought of as handsome given his physical strength and his affair with the princess.

Larys is just the clubfoot, and that is more than enough information to portray him as an incredibly ugly dude. Like, come on, the man is hideous. A face only a mother could love, truly. It does shed light on how disabled people were perceived, doesn't it?

I know nothing about how book illustrations come to be, whether the illustrator gets input from the author or if they just follow their heart (Black Alys is described as a plain, small-chested girl and yet the illustration is a beautiful girl who is not flat-chested), I am just speculating here. But that illustration fascinates me because it perfectly encapsulates how this world sees physical disability, especially a disability that diminishes the one quality men must have above all else: strength. A man who cannot ride or hunt or fight is not a man, is something lesser. Larys could be just as as handsome as Criston Cole but it doesn’t matter because he is deformed and possibly cursed by the gods.

But also on the show he is played by a conventionally attractive man —not Hollywood hot, just like, normal hot— who is comically taller than the man called Breakbones lol.

Much to think about food for thought etc etc.

[burnwater13]

The Mandalorian and Cobb Vanth riding speeder bikes across the desert flats of Tatooine, outside of Mos Pelgo. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 1, The Marshal. Caption reads: Moving fast is the only thing keeping me safe. - The Mandalorian. The caption is from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 2, The Passenger. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu was standing right there when Peli Motto told the Mandalorian that for the sake of the Frog lady’s spawn, they couldn’t jump into hyperspace on the trip to Trask. Right there! Then his dad said, ‘Moving fast is the only thing keeping me safe.’ Keeping ME safe. ME! Wow. Just wow. Grogu had a good mind to stay on Tatooine and let the lone bounty hunter do, whatever it was that Mandalorians did, without him. There was plenty of Krayt dragon meat to eat. Peli was fun. He liked the pit droids. No need to stay where he wasn’t wanted.

He was going to stomp off and sulk when he noticed what the Frog lady meant by spawn. In a gleaming, glowing container little spheres of absolute perfection floated in a kind of clear liquid that did nothing to diminish Grogu’s interest in the orbs it held. Those were spawn? Wow. He’d never seen frog spawn that looked like that before. Usually the spheres were tiny, glommed together in lumps, and best found floating in reeds and semi-stagnant ponds of brackish water. This was not that.

He reached out with the Force and learned something that he couldn’t learn any other way. Not everyone of those amazing balls of genetic material and protective coatings was actually alive. Technically none of them were really alive. It was more like they were in stasis. Caught in time and waiting for the moment when their future would change. At least some of them. Others had already degraded too much. Some had been bumped hard and internal defects that weren’t visible to the casual observer had been formed. As amazing as they were biologically, they were also pretty delicate. 

Grogu wondered if he should draw the Mandalorian aside and explain the situation. He would need to extract the eggs that weren’t fertilizable and dispose of them. When they broke down they would release enzymes and other chemicals that caused them to degrade, but that would affect the other eggs as well. If this wasn’t properly managed, the Frog lady would lose the whole batch. He didn’t want that responsibility resting solely on his shoulders. He had plenty to do just to deal with the Mandalorian and his inability to remember that there were two of them traveling from place to place.

Of course, Grogu was still irked at the bounty hunter. It would serve him right to have to deal with a medical emergency while they were traveling the ‘slow way’. Grogu would just sit back in his floaty chair and watch the Mandalorian try to sort the good from the not so good and comfort the distraught Frog lady at the same time. The guy who once told a whole town of people that they’d just have to move avoid the Klatooinian raiders that had already practically destroyed their way of life? 

Of course, Grogu didn’t even have to take that trip. Since the Mandalorian was so worried about himself, Grogu could offer to stay behind and be one less problem to the man who had to drive the taxi. He giggled to himself at that thought because in his head is sounded just like the Mandalorian’s most irritated voice. Of course, he couldn’t say for certain that he’d ever heard the Mandalorian’s non-irritated voice. 

But… if he didn’t go with him, what would Mando do if there really was an emergency? Try to fight his way out? That’s what Mandalorians did. They fought things. Other bounty hunters. Gangs. Sand crawlers. Jawas. Blurggs. Imps. People they used to run with. And most recently Krayt dragons. Oh, and the raiders who managed to smash up Peli’s speeder bike when they were finally headed back to Mos Eisley. Moving fast hadn’t helped them then. Or really most of those other times either. 

As annoying as it was to be forgotten by the bounty hunter, Grogu couldn’t, in good conscience, let the Mandalorian and a passenger with such delicate cargo go off planet without him. He was the Jedi youngling. Not them. He knew how to heal people, although he’d never tried healing frog spawn before. He’d have to do his best and if that wasn’t good enough, at least he could mitigate the harm to the rest of the spawn by helping the Frog lady manage it better. His masters would be very disappointed with him if he didn’t at least try to be of service.

Grogu followed the Frog lady as she walked to the Razor Crest and chirped a quick request to Treadwell, but he was too late. Peli had already snagged the piece of the krayt dragon that had been meant for his dinner. He just hoped that the Mandalorian had the forethought to grab some of it before they left on their taxi run. Grogu hadn’t eaten anything for hours and was getting very hungry. He really didn’t want to miss out on something as delicious as Krayt dragon steaks and have to make do with something as bland as a ration pack. That would just be wrong. All wrong. 

[tildeathiwillwrite]

A Musician and A Curse

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Hair Matted With Blood

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1200

Tag List: @badthingshappenbingo @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: curse, mind control, magic whump, music theory, blood, healing magic with a price

----------

The forest was silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves and branches in a far-off wind as Caecilia hummed the melody in her head and tried to place the notes on the strings of her lyre, the vibrations of her voice echoed by her plucking. Few living creatures ventured near her place of solitude, not since she’d figured out a song to ward most of them away. After that, the prey animals avoided the place, and by extension the predators.

Not that they would harm her anyway. Or even could.

Caecilia sighed and stopped humming, but continued to strum the lyre, moving away from the vague melody to something familiar. An etude that she’d learned back when she was still a student. Back when she lived in the village on the edge of the forest, by the river. Back when things were easier.

Back before the curse.

The piece was easy, but she remembered struggling to master it. Caecilia’s fingers moved over the strings, guided by muscle memory and memories of a happier life. A flat minor chord. Her cousin’s favorite color, a flash of his hair. G flat. D flat. Her older sister’s smile.

B flat diminished. Her mother’s face. How it would light up when she played, how she’d encourage Caecilia when she was frustrated over simple mistakes.

A flat minor. The piece was slow, in the beginning. She always liked music like that.

D flat, G flat. Another chord, B flat G flat, and D flat. Repeat.

Caecilia allowed herself to get lost in the melody, forgetting the years since she’d learned it, imagining that she was sitting outside her childhood home, her mother and sister busy inside with cooking or cleaning or weaving, the window cracked open so they could listen to her practice.

She smiled softly at the memory as the notes began to quicken, changing from quarters to eighths. She always got nervous when they did that, so they tended to be discreet. They were always so supportive of her playing, even though they were less sure of her desire to become a wandering musician.

Suppose it didn’t matter now. Would her mother be happy if she knew Caecilia still played? As long as she was certain her daughter would be safe?

Caecilia strummed the final chords of the etude. She was the safest here, alone, with no audience but the occasional bird and squirrel. Only the trees could hear her play, and that was perfectly fine with—

Crack!

She froze, the last notes fading as a snapping twig broke her focus. Who—? Lyre raised defensively, she quickly rose to her feet, eyes scanning the trees. Caecilia had chosen to perch on a small rock formation today, so she was somewhat out of reach of anything—or anyone—with malicious intentions. Unfortunately, that meant she was also cornered, but she’d gleaned enough about the nature of her curse to know she would—

Someone stumbled out from the tree cover, their steps unsteady, as if they were a sailor who had just disembarked and wasn’t used to solid ground yet. Caecilia frowned as they reached the rock, placed their hands upon it, and gazed up at her. A young woman, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, with short blonde hair and a light blue dress.

Her hair was matted with blood oozing from a wound in the side of her head, her dress was torn up, and Caecilia noted the glazed look in her dark brown eyes. Likely concussed, and also unlucky enough to come within earshot and accidentally become bespelled.

Caecilia sighed. Gripping the lyre tightly with one hand, she carefully climbed down from the rocks next to the young woman. She barely seemed to notice, head cocked slightly to the side as if listening for something.

“Sit, please,” Caecilia urged. The young woman’s eyes flicked to her before she obeyed, almost falling to the ground.

Caecilia sat beside her, fingers gently plucking on the lyre strings. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?”

“I…” the woman mumbled, a dreamy expression crossing her face, “I… I was walking… along the old path through the forest… but the ground… the ground just vanished… and I fell….”

“Why were you traveling by yourself? The woods aren’t safe.”

“Aren’t safe…” the woman echoed softly, “I needed… needed to… get away… no one could know… the forest seemed safe enough in daylight….”

Caecilia closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Reopening them, she changed to a different melody, plucking a few experimental notes before balancing the lyre in her lap and reaching out, playing with one hand and touching the wound on the side of the woman’s hand. She quietly began to hum along, willing the music to help instead of harm.

Beneath her fingers, the cut began to close. Caecilia’s playing faltered as a sharp pain lanced through her temple, followed by a dull pounding in her skull, but she stubbornly continued. Small cuts opened on her arms and legs, and new bruises on her elbows and knees throbbed, but still, she played, still, she healed.

The woman didn’t appear to notice as her corresponding injuries closed over, entranced by Caecilia’s music as she was, the blood clotting and the skin knitting together as if the body’s natural healing process had been hastened. Caecilia finally stopped humming and pulled away her hand, but continued to softly pluck at the strings.

“What direction did you come from?” she asked, wincing as she probed the new cut on the side of her head. “North, south, east, or west?”

“…north….”

“Thank you.” Caecilia changed melodies again, moving from A flat minor to D major. “Listen,” she said, speaking in rhythm, “listen and obey. Go west. Be careful. And when you leave the forest behind, you will forget everything that happened beneath its leaves.”

The woman blinked in mild surprise, the first show of emotion since stumbling upon Caecilia’s rock. “But… I….”

“Listen and obey,” Caecilia repeated, more forcefully.

“…listen… and… obey….”

“Go west. Be careful.”

“…go west… be… careful….”

“When you leave the forest behind, you will forget everything that happened beneath its leaves.”

“When… when I leave… the forest… I will… forget… everything… that happened… beneath its… leaves….”

Caecilia smiled despite the anxious churning in her stomach, despite the stinging of her new injuries. “I’m sorry. Now go.”

The woman rose immediately and moved west, as Caecilia had commanded. In moments she was gone, vanished into the undergrowth, and the sounds of her passage quickly faded away. Caecilia stared after her long after she was out of sight, murmuring a prayer of safety.

Quietly, she rose and climbed back to the rock formation, where she’d left her pack. “Why have I been touched in this way?” she whispered as she wiped away the blood on her face. “Why does my music bespell those who hear it?”

She must have asked this question a hundred times. “How can I take on others' wounds? What is the reasoning?”

As always, the forest had no reply.

[kenora-pizza]

Musical Musings - TTTE edition, Part 2

ALRIGHT!

My first musical analysis post has been getting a LOT of attention in the past few days or so. So first off, thank you for the love everyone, that was one of my favourite posts to make (besides the crackhead Gordon and Henry shitpost and my "Emily in the middle" rant). Second, since it appears that people like this sorta thing, I figured I'd share a couple more things that I've noticed, one of which I didn't put in the first post cause I figured people had already  noticed it so it didn't need to be said. But I think I'll put it in anyways, just because. So let's get into it!

In pt. 1, I talked about the fact that Henry's theme has an occurrence of "3," in that each of the 4 beats in a bar was a triplet, and how Henry is the number 3 engine. Well, I was listening to his theme again and found two more occurrences of "3" in the introductory bars of the theme. For reference, I am talking about this part:

 Each bar has the following rhythm:

Now, the first occurrence of 3 comes from the fact that the first 3 beats have the same rhythm, as shown in the above image. The second occurrence of 3 comes from the fact that the last beat of the bar is a triplet. 3 notes. Tack on the first occurrence of 3 from the first post, and you're 3 for 3 for NWR no. 3. HMMM........

2. Continuing with the subject of Henry's theme, this observation has probably already been made several times over, but I figured I'd put it in to continue the "Henry's theme" trend. If you take a listen to Henry's sad theme, you'll notice that its repeating motif is part of Henry's main theme in a different, minor, key with a different rhythm and at a slower tempo.

Take a listen.

The opening fragment of Henry's main theme:

The main motif of Henry's sad theme:

And in sheet music:

Henry's theme (Eb major):

Henry's sad theme (B minor):

The numbers indicate the note's position within its scale. As you can see, both themes share the same note pattern. To get Henry's sad theme, you'd transpose the theme down a diminished 4th (i.e, move the notes down by this interval) to B major, and then adjust the D# and G# in the resulting melody to D natural and G natural to fit within the B minor scale so that it sounds sad. Nice job, Mike & Junior, very clever.

Just in case anyone is confused, the notes for the B major & minor scales are shown below:

3. Donald and Douglas' CGI whistles are the notes of C and A respectively. These notes are related in a couple of ways. The first/lowest note on a standard 88-key piano is an A, and the last/highest note is a C. Given the twins' original BR numbers (57646 & 57647 respectively), it appears that Douglas is the younger of the two, so their whistle notes make sense in this context. Additionally, as mentioned in pt. 1, the keys of C major and A minor are related in that they share a key signature of no accidentals (ie, no sharps, flats, double sharps or double flats, yes those last two exist and they gave me hell as a kid). Thus, the whistle notes would make sense in this context.

You'll often see modulation from either C major to A minor or vice versa in classical music. Two contrasting, yet complimentary keys with their own characters and personalities which work well together. Just like Donald and Douglas.

4. I was rewatching some of the season 7 episodes which have Arthur in them. And I think I kinda forgot how fucking huge this guy is. I also noticed just how low his whistle is in comparison to the other tank engines, perhaps emphasizing his bigger size and his more serious attitude in comparison to them.

Whew, this was a long post. I hope you guys enjoy this post as much as you did the last one.

[aihoshiino]

What are some aspects you dislike (or decisions which you feel are weak) in Oshi No Ko? And what hopes do you have for the future of the series?

Disclaimer before I get into this that obviously I am deep in the paint for Oshi no Ko or I would not be here LOL but chewing on stories I like and engaging in critique is how I have the most fun! I've also talked about this stuff before to varying degrees in other metas enough that it would be redundant to mention every time it's the case, so please bear with me if you see me repeating myself.

These also aren't, like, in any kind of order necessarily unless I specifically mention so, it's just whatever order they came to me as I was typing.

That said, this first one is the manga's biggest problem imo and it's simply that it's super unbalanced, at least past the prologue arc. The story initially presents itself as being about Aqua and Ruby as co-protagonists who are both equally important to the story's ideas and themes. This results in that nice pingponging rhythm you get up to about chapter 30 where the story switches focus between them at pretty natural feeling intervals, even if they aren't necessarily really rippling out and impacting each other. Things are still weighted more towards Aqua given that he's the POV character for the most part and we spend the most time in his head but tbh given the comparative dramatic intensity of his goal Vs Ruby's, I think that's fine. Once we move into Tokyo Blade, though, the balance irrevocably tips in Aqua's favour and Ruby basically becomes a guest star in her own story. Even as black hoshigan Ruby. That whole arc in hindsight really just ended up feeling like filler to pass time until The Real Protagonist could come back. It results in this feeling of not really knowing Ruby well or making her seem like an underbaked character because we have such little direct insight into her thoughts and feelings in comparison to Aqua or even Kana and Akane.

Spinning off from that point, the way Ruby is treated in the series more specifically is a huge issue. Up until the start of the Tokyo Blade arc, Ruby was actually one of my favourite characters and I think she was a really great contrasting point to Aqua in the story's themes. While Aqua drags people along through manipulation, Ruby's genuine kindness, enthusiasm and love makes her a bit of a guiding star for everyone else in her orbit. She isn't necessarily the deepest or most complex character at that point but like... I don't think she needed to be? Sort of similar to Memcho, I think Ruby in that first stretch of the story has a really fantastic "flat" arc in that while she herself goes through minimal development, the strength of her character inspires positive changes in the people around her. That's great!

It also just unfortunately completely falls off during Tokyo Blade. She vanishes during this arc more or less completely and even though B-Komachi are the focus of the following arc and we get time with black hoshigan Ruby... that's it! Black hoshigan Ruby gets literally one entire arc to herself to shine and do anything meaningful to the story (the Mainstay arc) and even though she's supposedly even more in the revenge sauce than Aqua at this point... she doesn't do anything! Her scheming literally does not impact the revenge plot at all! It's fucking AKANE who finally uncovers the father's identity and passes this info to Aqua and literally nothing Ruby does contributes at all to the scheme before Aqua gets back into the driver's seat.

And I'm gonna be honest: I really hate how Ruby has been handled since the mutual past life reveal! I hate that an arc that was setting up to be about Ruby untangling her long held maternal trauma got thrown aside in favour of incest bait and I absolutely despise the way the story since then retconned and diminished the importance of Ruby's connection to her mother in favour of framing Gorou/Aqua as her sole important person. This is made ten times worse by the fact that the only insight we've gotten into any of her feelings about this change is her going "omg Sensei squee" in a way that is clearly comedically exaggerated. In general, the story feels like it has a really major lack of respect for Ruby's feelings unless they can be voyeuristically oogled at and mined for sympathy points. This shit sucks!! Justice for Ruby!!!!

Ruby isn't the only character who, imo, suffers this issue of revolving around Aqua to the detriment of her own arc. I've talked in a lengthy post before about my issues with the way Akane has been written post LoveNow and while I am not going to reiterate everything in that massive post (this one has already taken so long oh god forgive me anon) it does give me an opportunity to segue into one of the other major issues with the story, which is its weird reluctance to commit to the effects of big status quo changes.

In Akane's case, this is visible both in way her suicide attempt is just completely swept under the rug and never addressed again without any focus whatsoever on Akane's healing process and the total absence of the persistent online negativity we were promised even in places it should be extremely relevant. The one time Akane ever talks about this is like 50+ chapters later where she vaguely goes "oh, you know how it went with Love Now" in a tone of someone recalling an embarrassing flub and not a harassment campaign so persistent and vitriolic that she almost took her own life.

In general, the story has a bad habit of dropping any hanging plot threads when it moves into a new arc as opposed to tying them off or letting them naturally evolve as time goes by. This results in a story where major upheavals to the status quo and character relationships are *shown* to happen but ultimately do not result in that many meaningful or observable changes within the story, especially ones that might be inconvenient for where the plot is supposed to go. This valuing of convenience over writing that is verisimilitudinous (i'm so fucking sorry) to the previously established characterization and world combined with this tendency of abandoning lingering plot threads rather than resolving them is, imo, why the movie arc feels so weird and all over the place. BUT this post is long enough and wtfever is going on with the movie arc is worthy of its own ramble at some point so I'll cut myself off here.

As for my hopes, I really want us to loop back around to having Ruby address her lingering trauma over Sarina's illness and abandonment. That felt like an arc that was sooooooo long in the making for Ruby and having it just swept off the table is really frustrating. Other than that, I don't have any really big hopes for the future other than just hoping everyone's arcs tie off nicely.

In particular, I hope Aqua's arc has some good resolution... my son has gone through it and I do really just want him to have some happiness at the end of the day. Please let my boy smile, Akasaka!!!

[f1crecs]

'Megaverse Monday - Week Three

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Alex/George

nsfw: Strange River by @love-leah | E | 2.8k

George and Alex are two alpha friends who share a flat. George sees Alex naked one day, and becomes consumed by want. The longing in this fic is palpable. George's sensory experience of Alex, especially that of his scent, is described so evocatively and clearly you feel like you could almost be in the room, drowning in the sweet buttery smell George is smelling. And when George needs him most, Alex is there, treating him with love and care.

The first thing Alex does, after George tries and he thinks succeeds in locking up his muscles enough to hide a helpless, humiliating little rut orgasm against his sheets, is make George eat a roll of soft, sweet bread spread with butter. "Why do you have so much oil everywhere?" he asks after that, untangling George's quilt from around one of his calves, one hand deft and warm where it's cupped around George's knee, holding him still. George doesn't answer. What's he going to say, I wanted to feel like an omega ? He can't focus anyway, because then Alex is undressing, George's eyes catching on the scar, the dark, sparse hair on Alex's chest, the plane of his stomach.

Charles/Max

nsfw: closest i get by @nyoomfruits | E | 4.8k Charles smells Max in pre-rut without scent blockers for the first time at a party and immediately knows he wants to have sex with him. And of course there are absolutely no feelings involved from either side. A/B/O is all about the scents and this fic has a way of describing scents that almost makes you smell them yourself, beautiful descriptions that truly paint a picture. I loved Charles as the omega being very forward and suggesting that they spend Max rut together while Max is the voice of reason trying to argue that its a bad idea, but not wanting to explain why. The sexual tension and desperation is through the roof but these boys have absolutely no feelings for each other - right? Highly recommend going straight on to the sequel (heart held close) after finishing this!

'“Charles, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Max says, and he’s frowning now, even though his nose twitches again. And it’s that little gesture, that small hint that Max might be into this too, that has Charles push. “You don’t have to like, protect my innocence or whatever. I’ve spent ruts with Alphas before, I know the deal.” For some reason, Max’s eye twitches. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal or anything, right? It can be just about the sex, nothing else.” He steps forward, into Max’s space. Reaches out a hand, lets it run over Max’s cheek, leans a little closer. “Just sex,” he whispers, in the ever diminishing space between them as Max leans into his touch. “Fuck,” Max whispers, screwing his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his mouth. “I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t-“'

[shysublimecoffee]

I don't harbor any hatred towards Chloe; instead, I feel a sense of pity for the way her story unfolded and the diminished regard she ultimately received. Personally, I never perceived her as a serious threat. Initially, I acknowledged her annoyance to some and the seemingly irredeemable nature she projected as a bully, a sentiment that used to persist when I was just 12 years old but not anymore.

Now, as a 21-year-old, it's challenging for me to invest much concern in the character, spanning across both the fifth season and earlier ones. The show appears to emphasize a forced and exaggerated approach and has a bias vendetta against her so clearly which diminishes its overall impact. I'm genuinely surprised at the intensity of reactions her actions provoke in others. Like in Season 5 when Marinette has to seek Chloe permission in Derision is stupid because Chloe for all of her dumb and provoke antics wouldn't go that far and is a cheap tacktick to rule your emotions into getting you to hate her even more the narrative tries to surround and paints her as nothing more than an entitled individual who prioritizes self-interest and her inflated ego.

While I understand that the series may not delve too deeply into character development, there's still some nuance present in their personality. However, reducing Chloe to a one-dimensional portrayal like the show and some anti's do purposely tries to do seems like a disservice or, at the very least, a simplistic and flat interpretation of her character.

Chloe's character has been consistently challenging to take seriously as a bully, even as far back as Season 1, mainly because she frequently finds herself defeated in the end. Rather than evoking fear, she tends to elicit annoyance, relying on her father, the Mayor, for protection. Many of her antics come across as cartoonish, and I've come to accept her as the stereotypical rich mean girl bully whose schemes inevitably backfire. It's noteworthy that, despite her perceived intimidation, Marinette surprisingly stands up to her, with the entire class often joining forces to mock her. I understand why some perceive her as a bully, but I've always thought of her, especially in the earlier seasons, more as a rival, akin to the dynamic between Clover and Mandy from Totally Spies.

A significant portion of Chloe's motivations and insecurities can be traced back to the emotional neglect and abandonment she experienced from her mother. Now, with her father also distancing himself, she appears to be left entirely on her own. I theorize that, to some extent, she might unconsciously emulate her absent mother's emotions and actions, a curious phenomenon given her mother's absence during her formative years. It seems as though, with his wife gone, Chloe's father inadvertently steered his daughter toward adopting her mother's mannerisms as some sort of afterimage, creating a peculiar resemblance.

It's intriguing to note that Ladybug plays a crucial role in shaping Chloe's behavior, given that Ladybug is not only her idol but also someone she believed could instigate positive change. However, when Ladybug rejects her and excludes her from the team, it becomes a harsh betrayal. Besides her mother, Ladybug significantly influenced Chloe, and regardless of perspective, Chloe thought she had found her place, only to be abandoned once again, mirroring the abandonment by her mother now toss away by her hero. Chloe allowed herself to be vulnerable with her hero, only to receive mere crumbs in return.

I was taken aback when, in the midst of Derision, Marinette unequivocally placed the blame on Chloe with a resounding "It's all Chloe's fault." I found it amusing considering Chloe wasn't the sole accomplice. Even in a different dimension in the Shadybug special, she remains the catalyst and, surprisingly, retains her antagonistic and mean-spirited demeanor towards Marinette. So, in this flipped universe, it appears my girl Chloe still can't catch a break.

To be frank, we perceive Gabriel as somewhat foolish, but the show intends to depict him as a manipulator, particularly towards his victims. The focus on Chloe, the resident bully, becomes particularly unwarranted and cruel in this narrative. It's not just Gabriel; even his assistant and Kagami's mom, if my memory serves me correctly (feel free to correct me), engage in manipulating and exploiting Chloe's emotions. Lila, too, plays a role in bringing her down.

It's surprising that the show doesn't delve deeper into how the company she surrounds herself with significantly influences and contributes to her downfall. It gives the impression that she's solely responsible, disregarding various factors at play. This is particularly evident in the episode where she becomes mayor; the narrative seems to conveniently absolve them of any responsibility once she served her purpose.

I'm not saying she did nothing wrong she certainly did enough times that the show often call her out but it's like I compare her and Marinette and you see how easy one get off compared to the other. Ladybug actions towards her partner and her lying and the gaslighting she does enough in the end of season 5 will be waved away. In Empeheral she betrayed her own partner and it is an issue even if her partner is unaware yet time and time again the fandom and show gives her grace and compassion and how she's only 14 years old she doesn't know.... how many fuck-ups does she gotta make before she gets to be hold accountable. I know damn well the show will wave away and put a rose-filtered cap in how she endorsed the villain and tricked her boyfriend but she didn't mean it because she cares for Adrikins. So, why doesn't the show extend some understanding to Chloe? Chloe seems to be consistently portrayed as the scapegoat, while Ladybug assumes the role of the golden child. It's a straightforward observation.

Fuck Felix is worser and he's afforded more understanding and grace than Chloe is which is hilarious.

The reason I appreciate Chloe is straightforward. She wasn't the typical protagonist's sidekick; instead, she was mean, rude, and unapologetically pursued her desires. When the chance to become a hero presented itself, she seized it without waiting to be chosen. While her motivations may be deemed selfish and her actions not always aligned with the greater good, I find it refreshing. In a show where many characters tend to be subservient to the main character, Chloe stands out by taking charge and charting her own path. Why wouldn't I like her best lol?

Whether Chloe has the potential to undergo change is not the primary concern for me; what matters more is having a coherent direction for her character. There could be various trajectories for her, evolving into either a hero or a villain, and more skilled writers could skillfully outline a path for her character development. Perhaps facing rejection and isolation drives her further into darkness, or she finds redemption by discovering a new source of hope. Unfortunately, instead of exploring these nuanced aspects of her character, the writers chose to shoehorn and disregard the potential depth in her narrative.

[m-y--p-a-s-s-i-o-n-s]

Favorite reads from this year

Tagged by @midsummersmorn

I didn't read any books this year that I can recall so I'll give some shoutouts to some of my fav fic reads from this year...

- Deep (In The Jungle) by ladydragona, SylWritesStuff - Good Omens

Summary: Being lost in the jungle is the last thing Aziraphale was expecting and yet here he is. Lost, with no map, dwindling food, and on a time limit. Almost drowning was also not on the menu but a mysterious saviour might just be what he needs.

- Mr. Fell's Heavenly Bed and Breakfast by INeedABurnerAccountOkay - Good Omens

Summary: Crowley is a writer who hasn't written anything interesting in over 10 years. He also has flatmates, which doesn't make writing easier. But then he stumbles upon a quaint, adorable (and cheap!) B&B - and its incredibly charming owner

- What Monsters Call Love by WaitingToBeBroken - Good Omens

Summary:

After being deemed unfit to rule his kingdom, Aziraphale is exiled and left to die in an underground cave. Something he expected when he refused to carry out the will of his advisors.

What he didn't expect, was the dragon guarding his prison and making it so very hard to leave.

But not for the reasons he first thought.

- no such thing as beauty by NaroMoreau, summerofspock - Good Omens

Summary: Prince Crowley has lived a life of easiness and comfort. When something goes awry on a trip through the country, he'll have to face horrors he's never imagined only to discover everything is not what it seems.

- Monsters of Venice (and other dating tips) by crepesandoysters - Good Omens

Summary: Aziraphale has established himself well as a recent inhabitant of Venice. He has a regular job as a gondoliere — troubles with tourists aside — a flat with a fairly nice view, and more importantly, he's finally gotten the hang of the city's layout (for the most part). There are very few things that could disrupt his routine.

Except maybe running over a sea serpent with a gondola. That might do it.

- Social organization and adaptability in Xenoerpeton anthropoides: transference of social bonding habits and mate selection by Liquid_Lyrium - Good Omens

Summary: Publish or perish has never been more apt. Professor Aziraphale Eastwise finds himself in the privileged position to engage with a Xenoerpeton anthropoides (or merlotl). An elusive, semiaquatic evolutionary cousin shrouded in mystery. And the answers he receives aren’t what he expects of a simple creature—even one who is human-like.

Crowley is a social pariah among his kind who is undeniably funny, curious, sensitive, and intelligent. His discovery of the depths of merlotl thought could cement his fame and renown for decades to come, but this opportunity comes at a cost—Aziraphale is trapped in a cave with slowly dwindling supplies and rapidly diminishing hope. The longer he’s trapped, the more he finds himself considering questions of a forbidden nature. Questions that can’t possibly be ethical. Or wanted. Besides, surely it isn’t productive to even consider what attraction or mating behaviors look like in merlotl. After all, if a primate and an amphibious creature fell in love, where would they live? And Aziraphale needs rescue soon.

- Honey Sweet by NaroMoreau - Good Omens

Crowley is an escort ready to bag another job. But this time might be different. Might open doors that Crowley wasn't expecting at all.

There were so many more, but those are some truly unforgettable ones!

Tagging: @lizzy0305 @iwillnotserve @paxbe

[haghottie420]

About the Stoned Hag Who Runs This Blog

Alyssa | She/Her | Dyke | Aries ♈️ | 30 | Tattoo Collector | Bitch Druid | Film Podcaster: Let's Get Fucked Up w/ Alyssa and Sadie | Leftist | Liberation for all | Free Palestine 🍉 | TERFS, Minors, occupation supporters DNI | personal blogging tag | my fic tag | my post tag | I have a John Waters tattoo and I showed it to him once. Shows: True Detective (season 1), What We do In the Shadows, Dragula, Interview with the Vampire, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, English Teacher, Yellowjackets, Community, Bob's Burgers, The X-Files, Film: Horror, John Waters, Gregg Araki, Wachowski Sisters, Noroi: The Curse (2005), Nowhere (1997), Cecil B. Demented (2000), I Saw the TV Glow (2024) Video Games: Pokemon, Stardew Valley Music: Metric, Broken Social Scene, Stars, Hop Along, Arctic Monkeys, Fall Out Boy, Charli XCX, Chappell Roan, Saintseneca, Lady Lamb General: Some Aesthetic Tags, cats, 18+, fav posts

I won't shut the fuck up about: Smoking weed, my wife and Rust Cohle and Mary Hart making out Follow me on: Letterboxd | AO3 | Bluesky

Latest True Detective Fics:

My Disordered Road Always Led Straight Back into You | E | words: 8.5 k words | Rust/Marty; Audrey/OFC | Marty POV | Series: Part 2 of Long before you came Love was never the subject

Tag Selection: Weed, Smoking and Fucking, Bottom Rustin "Rust" Cohle, Anal Sex, Marty's Giant Dick mention, Domestic Fluff, Domestic smut, Barebacking, Exhibitionism, Emotional Sex, Riding, The mortifying ordeal of your daughter teaching you how to roll a joint in front of your hot partner Their favorite habit since making a home together has been smoking weed in the sunroom at twilight. Marty hates how many cigarettes Rust smokes, even after cutting back. The taste is always sour on his tongue when they kiss. But he’s been respectful of the fact that tobacco and nicotine are nowhere near as bad as the alcohol and the harder shit Crash was into. Besides, the number of cigs diminished compared to what he could put away in the front seat in ’95. Marty doesn’t keep alcohol in the house anymore, thinks both of their livers are penning them thank you letters for being spared cirrhosis. Rust was lucky to dry out in a coma and is doing his damnedest to stay off that particular wagon, so the smoke takes some of the edge off. Marty spirals upwards.

We Have a Great Wanting in Common | M | words: 20.2 k | Rust/Marty; Audrey/OFC | Outsider POV (Audrey) | Series: Part 1 of Long before you came Love was never the subject

Tag selection: Trauma, Should I even tag trauma or is that just implied in this fandom, Husband's work partner to lovers, the mortifying ordeal of discovering your two father figures are fucking, Original Butch Dyke Character, Non-linear narrative

Audrey doesn’t know how she ended up here—face throbbing, upper body bent over the steering wheel of her beat-up Honda in the driveway of her estranged father’s tiny rancher. She throws the burner phone back into her messy pile of clothes, heart is still pounding. The sweat covering her hands is now smeared all over the steering wheel and mixed with dried blood from her previously weeping wound. The inside of the car smells like copper and black ice air freshener. Audrey breaks the flat circle.

Currently working on:

-???

[thislovintime]

A look at songwriter and composer Tork:

Q: "From what sources do you draw your songwriting inspirations?" Peter Tork: "Sometimes just a phrase or a word catches my fancy. Then I hear a musical line. I try to figure out what kinds of sounds are coming out. Basically I just go by the sound. Then I try to find words that sound like they belong there." - Blitz!, November/December 1987 Q: "How do you write a song. What starts you off." Peter Tork: "Pretty women start me off, and there’s no one way to write. Sometimes someone says something that sounds interesting, and you jot it down. Sometimes you find yourself humming something that you realize you haven’t exactly heard before. The hard part is 'asking' for the inspiration to get the other parts, other verses, bridges, if any, etc." - Beachwood Confidential Newsletter, 1995 "I’m really pleased that the stuff that I have written has been a little outside the mainstream. [...] [In 'For Pete's Sake,' one chord] is a 7-add-4, which is a highly unusual chord. It sort of fell out of my hands on the guitar. [...] I wrote a set of chords once [in college] and thought, 'Gosh, this is great.' I couldn’t think of anything to do with them. A couple years later I wrote 'Can You Dig It,' to those chords. They were… let’s see: D-minor to B-flat major 7th to an E diminished 9th chord. That’s a really interesting way to set it up to the V chord. Or to look at it another way: we’re in A — Arab scale, which is— I don’t want to get too heavy. But it’s an unusual scale in Western music, in pop music. And it worked fine for me. I was just really glad. It just fell out of my hands again. It really felt good." - Peter Tork, Shanley On Music, 2014 "I like to sit at home and play piano and write stuff. I have a blues band. This coming January, I’m going to be going down to Lexington, Kentucky. I’m going to have them play a piece I wrote for piano and orchestra. It’s fairly brief. It’s seven minutes long. They’ll be doing some pop music, it’s a pops orchestra. But I’ll have them tackle this thing I wrote." - Peter Tork, ibid "[As a songwriter, Peter] was always trying to do something which you hadn’t heard. Which is pretty rare, because many of the hit songs that you hear are derivative, they sound like some other hit song. Peter always wanted to write something that you hadn’t heard before. […] I mean, his writing was interesting, you know, and fun to play. Always surprising.“ - James Lee Stanley, The Monkees Pad Show

[ghoulodont]

thoughts about these teeth images below

A: you can see how UL4 is a little bit palatal here, also the tiny space between UL3 UL4

B: this is one of the only clear photos i found of his right side for some reason. UR2 looks almost level with UR1 but i think its just the camera angle. his flat canine is interesting, it makes it hard to tell what angle its at and also makes me curious about his occlusion (notice his lower teeth are not visible in any of these pictures). the color of UR4 makes me wonder if theres an amalgam filling in it but thats not my area of expertise. hes smiling at a naked statue btw

C: i cant believe this picture exists and i lost my mind when i found it. his arch shape is tapered, narrow in the front and wider in the back. despite how many teeth appear to be in this image you can only barely see his molars (in part due to the low contrast)

D: here you can again see his arch is fairly narrow in the anterior. U3-3 is well aligned regardless. canines distally rotated because of the arch shape. looks like palatal torque on U4s, more on UR4 than UL4

E: this picture is what inspired me to pursue this entire creepy activity because it totally looks like you can see molars but you cant actually distinguish anything because of the shadow. if you turn up the contrast its just noise. anyway you can see the UL3 UL4 gap

F: UR2 & its relationship with UR1 is clearly visible

G: hehe :3

H: you can see the vertical leveling, UR2 higher than surrounding teeth (though its slightly exaggerated by the angle, compare image B where its diminished by the angle). his premolars are so pointy. on his U1s it could just be how they are and always have been but i think you can see a little bit of wear on the mesioincisal from the infamous lip piercing. its hard to tell but i think his midline is centered if not slightly to his left, which because he has (just a little) crowding on the right and (just a little) spacing on the left makes me curious where his molars are

I: i like his very functional use of the UR2 here. you can see the lip piercing wear like image H

J: based on images C and D we can tell that the visible part of UL5 here is the palatal cusp. you can see the buccal torque on UR2. i feel like this image should help me understand the tip/torque of UR3 (see also image B) but the camera angle is so odd that i actually still have no idea whats going on

K: UR2 buccal torque is very clear as well as the UL3 UL4 gap (i would guess maybe 0.2 or 0.3 mm). his U2s are the same size if not wider than his U3s which is not very common (see also image B). you can maybe see the wear from the lip piercing again