#Cloud Factory Recording

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: High. Shares Swooning and Rousingly Anthemic "Catcher"

New Video: High. Shares Swooning and Rousingly Anthemic "Catcher" @Highasfuckband @kaninerecords @bighasslemedia @knzdvs

Boonton, NJ-based shoegazers High. can trace their origins back to 2021 when Christian Castan (vocals, guitar) and Bridget Bakie (bass, vocals) met while playing across the Garden State’s DIY and college circuit, building Bakie’s reputation as “The Queen of The Quarter Note” and Castan’s profile as an unforgettable guitarist. After the pair played in a band together, they longed fora project that…

[rastronomicals]

May 1:

On this date in 1972, The Jeff Beck Group released their fourth and last album under the band name, The Jeff Beck Group.

On this date in 1992, an anthology chronicling Virus Records and entitled Virus 100, was first issued.

On this date in 2005, Alcest released their first recording, Le Secret.

And,

Today is the 10th anniversary of the release of Cloud Factory, Ukrainian metal band Jinjer's second album.

[autophage]

You were born 46 years ago, birthed from factories built by the smartest people in what they considered to be "the Free World". Your mission is to explore, to push forth into the void that surrounds the small fragile blue orb where you were created. Your other mission, perhaps, you are less proud of: to prove Capitalism stronger than Communism.

(You would have been happy to execute your sibling's mission: to bear the Golden Record, proof of human ingenuity, to announce to the universe that We Are Here, that humans exist and experience the world around them. But you are further from Earth. And you are a machine, so perhaps you have no pride of your own.)

For decades you have traversed space, more distant by far than any other thing produced by human hands.

You are nearly a half century old, and programmers on Earth still write code for you. They still send you updates. Back on Earth you would be considered obsolete, but out here, your age is part of what makes you so valuable: you have journeyed further. Updates reach you at the speed of light, and even at that speed they take twenty-two hours to reach you. And of course that time only increases as you continue. You were the first item born of human ingenuity to reach interstellar space.

In three hundred more years - according to current human calculations - you will reach the Oort Cloud.

Human hands made you. Human hands shaped you. You are a shout, a statement, a greeting. You are humanity's senses, further by far than any eye or ear. You are a projection of humanity against void, against history's dust, against vastness and distance and separation. You will continue to exist long after humanity's changes, whatever they may be. Perhaps they will remember you. You will always remember them.

[secretmellowblog]

Les Mis Hidden Name Meanings: “Fantine” (posting here because it got popular on TikTok)

Every character in Les Mis has a name with a deeper symbolic meaning— here’s a video I made for the official @barricadescon TikTok about the meaning behind “Fantine!”

Transcript and Digressions I left out of the video, under the cut:

Every charcater’s name in Les Mis is either a pun, a reference to a historical/mythological figure, or had some deep symbolic meaning — and sometimes it’s all of them at on.

The name “Fantine” comes from the french word “enfantine” or “childike, infant-like.” Her name basically means “Baby.” And obviously this speaks to her innocence and niavetee. But also “baby” is kind of,.,, well it sounds more like an informal term of endearment than an actual legal name?

And that’s because– Plot twist– Fantine isn’t her legal name! What is her legal name? She doesn’t have one.

And the reason she doesn’t have one is directly tied to political turmoil of the era she was born into.

Fantine grew up an orphan living on the streets, without a family without parents. Hugo tells us the origin of her name:

“she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. (...)She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? She had never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismal name; the Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleased the first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a very small child, running bare-legged in the street. She received the name as she received the water from the clouds upon her brow when it rained.”

This moment is adapted beautifully in the Manga adaptation by Takahiro Arai, which I recommend to anyone who loves Les mis, manga, or any combination of those things.

But now let’s talk about the Directory.

To wildly oversimplifly a lot of complex history: Before the French Revolution, the Catholic Church’s records of baptismal ceremonies were often used as a registry of people’s legal names. During the French Revolution, the Revolutionary government– including the Directory– put in place a series of policies we now call “dechristianization,” where they attempted to dismantle the power of Catholic church.

Fantine was born during the age of these dechristianization policies. So she was never baptised, her baptismal name was never recorded, so she has no recorded legal or family name. She’s slipped through the cracks of the legal system, and ended up completely anonymous.

It sets Fantine up as this anonymous child of the Revolution– a stand in for everyone who was left behind when the Revolution was left behind, and kings were restored to the throne.

Fantine’s namelessness is meant to show atomized . How she has NO support system. She has nothing to connect her to other people, nothing to connect her to a support system.

Finally, the way Fantine tends to “slip through the cracks” is something that follows her throughout her life. When she’s fired from her job at a factory, Maroy Madeleine never learns of it– Fantine has this tendency to overlooked and forgotten. She is born anonymous and she dies anonymous. At the end of the story, she is buried in an unmarked grave, with not even the name “Fantine” on her headstone.

It ties into novel’s questions about which people we consider worth remembering, whose lives are worth being records.

And obviously Fantine is not the only character in Les Mis whose name has a deeper symbolic meaning. If you have any other Les Mis character names you’d like to explain, leave their name in the comments below.

Thank you for watching!

From the description of the original tiktok, here are some things that were left out of the video for time:

How this all relates to Cosette’s name(s)

Fantine’s nickname “The Blonde,” and how this relates to the way she’s dehumanized by Tholomyes

How the 2018 Bbc series fundamentally misunderstands Fantine’s character, and how one sign of this is that they give her a full legal first and last name

How Fantine’s name shows up/is revealed is significant parts of the story (like when Valjean reveals her signature on a letter to Thenardier, allowing him to take Cosette away)

How Fantine’s inability to write ties into the way it’s difficult for her to record her own story

How some of Valjean’s last words are revealing Fantine’s name to Cosette

Thanks again for reading!

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I apologize in advance, but the brainworms did a heckin screech and I felt the need to share the chaos.

Imagine, if you will, that our Creator let's it slip that they've interacted with other worlds before reaching Teyvat. (Played other video games) Imagine having to explain that in these other worlds, they may or may not have been interested in the denizens of those realms...sometimes in the romantic sense, which led to wedding bells and/or children.

Cue the uproar from the Genshin cast. The Creator, Blessed Maker of All...you have courted others? Have been married?? You have had children??? Their image of you being pure and untouchable, blown apart into tiny little pieces of confetti. 🎉

Though many loathe to admit it, they are curious...who are these people, what are they like? Is there a common factor in your selection of spouses? You would only pick the very best of a realm to choose as a potential partner, surely another being of creation...or perhaps a demigod?

It leads to the proverbial red string board getting made, the Archons trying to find out who is your most likely pick from their regions. It's all for your safety, your Benevolence! If you insist on having a partner, they must find the perfect match for you! You deserve only the best of the best, after all.

Bonus points if the Creator was a fan of games like the Harvest Moon/Rune Factory series. They're gonna need to make a list of all their partners, there are so many options to choose from. >>_>>

I'll admit I never played any of those games so I skimmed through the harvest moon wiki and chose one of the bachelors and chose some other game characters lol. Plus a game for all of you, guess the characters.

Though I do think that the reader having children before causes a bit of whiplash because it's totally unexpected, mostly because there were no records of you taking spouses or kids, even knowing you ‘have’ (play) other worlds is a surprise that causes a bit of a crisis. Either way here are some head cannons.

“I must admit, your grace is awfully attached to Qiqi” Zhongli hums as he blows on his white tea, a small cloud of steam leaving.

Qiqi doesn't pay him much mind, her head coddled under your chin like a little puppy, between her hands there is a small bird plushie “Well, I must admit she does kind of remind me of one of my little ones” Your hand softly pats her head, a few strands of hair moving as you do.

He stills as you spoke, eyes fixated on his cup “your… little ones?”

“Mhm?” Without looking up from the braid you were giving to the little girl you just nod “yep, she is quite soft spoken like Milenoe”

“... I wasn't aware your grace had sired children” there was never any mentions about holy spawns or spouses taken by you in any manuscript he got his hands on.

“Well, I never chose a couple from this world, so there wouldn't be any descendants” the comment slips airly from your lips as Qiqi slides off your lap towards baizhu who had finished checking the books from your bookshelf. “Do you want to see her? She started elementary school a few weeks ago” without waiting for an answer a screen appears displaying a tall man with black hair and horns standing regally behind you and a child with emerald eyes and horns.

“She looks rather shy”

You hum nodding “she is as shy as her father when he was her age. There aren't many children her age she can play with so she was pretty lonely her first 50 years”

“50 years?”

“her dad is a slow maturing species” so it should be 10 times the life expectancy than humans. Not that long for him but certainly longer than usual.

•°•°•

“It's a wonder to see how you manage to get Klee to change her mind about going fish blasting,” albedo scribbles some data half mindedly as he watches you hover next to Klee, who showed you a new drawings every few minutes “she is so stubborn even with Alice”

“Well I do have experience with headstrong children, Pardine is as focused on her goal as her father” one of your hands fall on her blonde hair, bright but still darker than Pardine’s almost champagne blonde and her red eyes polar opposite to her icy ones, a carbon copy to her dad. Even if your genetics rarely showed up on any of your kids it was uncanny how similar she looked to her dad and aunts “but I will admit she does annoy many guards asking to train her”

Albedo just laughs it off, listing the few loose characteristics of one of her spouses. Venti has been annoying him about his nation almost getting no information so he hopes a few spare tidbits and Klee’s rough drawing of a blond blue eyed man with a big shield works for whatever weird thing the archons have going on.

•°•°•

“Your Grace has married before?!” Ayaka gasps as you take a stroll around the nature surrounding her home. Her hand had swiftly unfolded her fan in front of her face.

“Mhm, I don't know why people get so surprised, after all it would be weirder if I spent so much time somewhere but took no lovers” you laugh at her slightly seeing her slightly flustered “it's almost a tradition at this point, to wed someone from each world. Want to see some family portraits?” She nods fervently looking at the tablet like thing that appeared on your hands, first a white haired cowboy like man is kneeling on the ground holding a baby by the armpits surrounded by three wolves ,seemingly playing with an older child, by the time the next imagine passes Ayaka is almost hanging by your shoulder, asking things about the siblings and begging to see more photos of your babies.

“And who did you take from teyvat?” Ayaka looks up sweetly at you, she has always held you in high regard and now that you are in Inazuma she can't help but get giddy thinking about how you decided to spend the stay in her state and most of your time with her.

Feigning surprise you tap your chin with your index finger “now that I think about it I didn't choose anyone yet... maybe it's about time”

“Then that means you could pick my brother!” She wraps her hand around your own, smiling as if she got the best idea ever “I could even call you older sibling!... If you wanted so of course”

“Big brother you remember how you told me you would find me a proper bachelor”

“If this is about wanting me to rush it won't work”

“It's not about it, I found you someone”

“Fine, as you please, need I remind you my standards are quite high”

“It's their grace!... Why are you choking on your tea!?”

•°•°•

“There isn't one damned coincidence…” Raiden slaps her head against the table with the rough drawings and some information about them “a king, a captain, a cowboy, a damned sorcerer…”

“Maybe there isn't supposed to be a coincidence” Nahida guesses “maybe they just look for someone who catches their eye”

“It doesn't help out as much as you think it does” the tsaritsa crosses her legs and leans against the back of the chair “if we are doing people with very clear characteristics maybe Ajax could fit nicely? Redheads aren't very common”

“Mhm, maybe but don't they have a liking for smart men? Then Alhaitham would be closer to their past couples”

“Well if we are going by that logic they should like the geo archon, as one of them has dragonic features” the tsaritsa side eyes Zhongli from the other side of the table.

Sighing deeply Furina, who came in place of Neuvillette, chimes in “It is their decision who they want to marry and even if they wanted to!”

"obviously you would be so calm, after all they are very close with your iudex. Don't get so cocky, I heard the commissioner Ayato is interested in the idea"

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @thesingularityseries thank you <3

so I've started working on the British Gangster AU for Rory and TF141, very much in the vein of Guy Ritchie/Quentin Tarantino - told in a weird timeline format, lots of hopping between character POVs, etc.

snippet gets kind of long (sorry) and is still VERY rough. Also, the MI5 officers are absolutely written to basically be Statham and Vinnie Jones... so yeah...

warning for mentions of violence and criminal activities

Thames House, MI5 Headquarters, London, UK

It's not the first time Rory Sinclair has found herself inside an interrogation room, it's certainly the first time she's been the one to be questioned however…

Hazel eyes roam around the room. It’s the same sterile grey they always are, a mirror on the wall she knows the camera is set up on the other side of recording her, cheap mic on the table picking up audio, the uncomfortable metal chairs the authorities will keep a person chained to as if they lost all rights the moment they walked through the door. 

And before her are two carbon copied hardboiled officers: matching ill-fitting suits, close-cropped shaved heads, five o’clock shadows, and appearing as though they’ve both broken and have had their noses broken several times over. 

Manicured nails tap against the table top, french tips clicking against fake wood laminate. One leg crossed over the other as her foot bounces in time to a tune on replay in her head to keep herself occupied. One way or another... Fixing the way her coat sits to keep out the cool air from the AC they've clearly turned up to make her less comfortable and therefore more willing to talk. Focus lazily swinging from one officer to the other like a pendulum. 

Uninterested. 

Apathetic. 

She yawns as a set of files is tossed in front of her, skidding across the table, covers falling open, and before her sits the faces of four men.

The two officers sitting across from her put on their best good cop, bad cop performance as they give her the stare down - except one of them forgot to play soft.  Arms crossed, sullen faces, tight jaws. 

Real hardasses. 

“Miss Sinclair, it's in your best interest to realize that your choice of career puts you in direct contact with some less than savoury individuals,” the first officer husks. “These four especially, been keeping tabs on them for some time now. Drugs, weapons, illegal gambling, murder – all in a day's work for the 141, eh?”

She offers no reaction at all, there wasn’t a rap sheet in the world that could surprise her anymore. Her career was built on representing individuals with longer lists of crimes than that. Her stoneface response clearly isn’t the reaction the authorities were hoping for with the way they lean in towards her, cutting into her personal space, black tea on their breath permeating the air.  

“Ever heard of ‘em, love?”

Rory leans back in her seat, hands sliding into her lap as her heel continues its monotonous motion. “Can't say that I have, no.” 

“Then permit us to inform you, miss.” 

The larger brute of an officer thrusts his finger towards the first picture, a ragged, roughly bitten nail pointing to a stocky man with a steely gaze, mutton chops, and a neck tattoo. “This ‘ere's the leader. Goes by ‘The Captain’ – Jonathan Price.” 

Price

“Been at this since the age of sixteen…” 

The warehouse sits quiet, still, and dark. Water-stained windows, milky and clouded, creak and rattle with the ocean air from the nearby harbour. The giant factory doors open with a squeal, and the silhouetted forms of four inky figures stand there in the night as a body hung from the rafters by chains swings to and fro, murmuring from behind a strip of duct tape. The night is foggy, and the wisps of vapour crawl into the abandoned building. Shafts of light that beam in through the holes in the corrugated metal roofing cut shadows across the faces of the visitors in tailored suits, long overcoats, and leather shoes. 

Silent surroundings are broken by the tapping of soles on concrete and the rasp of a match being lit as it’s held up to the recently snipped end of a Villa Clara cigar, sparking it to life with a burning orange glow. A heavy plume of smoke is blown out, swirling and thick as it trails up towards the worn openings above – the only thing allowed to escape the oppressive stare of sharp blue eyes. 

Tape is ripped from the mouth of the man swinging idly from the chains that bind him, mouth left raw and red as adhesive is torn away from skin and stubble.  

“Where did you think you were, York?” he whispers hoarsely around the stub of his cigar as he stands before the hanged man, arms crossed over his chest. There’s no need to raise his voice – his figure, his name, is intimidating enough. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, Price.” The hanged man huffs out a nervous laugh, pleading with someone who he knows off reputation alone is merciless. “Don’t know how the bastards in London handle things, but Liverpool – this is my city, yeah?” “Course it is, innit.” 

If York had hands available to hold up in surrender he would. Waving the white flag in the presence of the head of England’s most powerful gang in a heartbeat. It was rare for a person to be given the opportunity to meet with Price in person and it usually wasn’t for good reason. He had people to handle these sorts of things, and more important matters to attend to. But, sometimes, a person needed reminding of just who sat at the top and how much power he wields. Power that he ruthlessly holds onto. Whether it's the Irish, the Russians, or the cartels who try to step into his territory, he offers no leeway, never an inch spared. This is his territory, a hunting ground he worked his way up to the top to attain and he won’t let that slip through his fingers for love nor money.

He says nothing more on the matter as cold, unreadable eyes look up at his prey from under a heavy brow. John doesn’t see the point in wasting his words or his breath when it's no longer necessary. His point has been made well known, and the body – when it’s found – will take care of the rest.

With another puff of smoke released, he slinks back into the shadows, Gaz at his right hand, leaving his two guard dogs to handle the rest. He can trust them to handle matters properly with little oversight. His Lieutenant, Riley, has no trouble keeping MacTavish on a leash.

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@writeforfandoms

[wanderinghedgehog]

Time to finally relay my thoughts on the Les Mis I saw August 3rd, 2024.

Keep in mind, I went into this as someone who wanted to get my mother and brother to like this story. Also, I’ve seen a million and one recordings, so I know the show pretty well already and am aware of my preferences concerning it.

Act 1

Intro was so good. I like the boat format for the prisoners. It gives the actors something to do and is good and clear tonally.

This Javert did not make a strong first impression. He seemed extremely muted idk.

So I’m not a Nick Cartell fan. I’m sorry. I just don’t like him that much. I might be able to explain why at some point.

The lighting was amazing in these opening scenes.

The bishop had such a nice voice. I always love the bishop.

Valjean went nuts with the “took my fliiiiiiiiight”

Oh I forgot to mention that all of the house lights hadn’t turned off yet. It was a little weird. They eventually got turned off either before or after Valjean’s Soliloquy.

Speaking of the Soliloquy, I’ve heard a recording of this actor singing this song before and it definitely sounds better in person. Better, but still not my favorite. Nick Cartell has a tendency to stray from the melody for acting purposes in a way that I’m not a fan of.

Also, this version had Petit Gervais. It was weird. And distracting. And disjointed. I didn’t like it.

I love a good ensemble number, so at the end of the day was great. Also, the transition from the crowd to the factory was so smooth.

I remember the foreman I think had a line that changed from the original that I was kinda confused about. Overall, I think this was a thing with both at the end of the day and lovely ladies. Like there were a handful of words that were switched and I didn’t understand why.

This Fantine was quite good. Like I’m glad this was the Fantine that I saw with my mom and brother. Solid performance.

This Bamatabois was odd. I think he was too much of a caricature.

Once again, Javert is quite subdued. Intimidating, sure. But not all that interesting otherwise. No swagger.

The staging of Fantine’s Arrest felt just a little busy, but that’s really a nitpick.

When did they cut part of Fauchelevent’s line in Runaway Cart?

So I really listen for how an actors says the line “forgive me sir I would not dare.” This was fine. Nothing special.

I will say that I liked Nick Cartell’s version of Who Am I.

Fantine’s death was so sad. I prefer versions like this where they don’t have her get out of bed. It’s simpler and it gets across her weakened state a little better, I think.

Confrontation was amazing. This Javert was really starting to prove himself here. It’s like the actor just started having fun with it.

This little Cosette was absolutely adorable. I’m not usually a fan of Castle On A Cloud, but this was great.

This production had a good Thenardier couple. Their comedic timing was great. This is not to discredit the amazing job that they did, but I’m not a huge fan of the Thenardiers. My family liked them a lot though, so they were definitely very funny.

So Look Down was a success because my family immediately liked Gavroche. As they should. My brother said that that the Look Down melody was one of his favorites.

Now I think it’s good to mention that this version didn’t have the time skip projections. Like those things that tell you what year it is. None to be seen. It confused my family. I was cool with explaining it though.

My brother found Marius annoying. +1 sibling point. We can make fun of Marius now. (to be clear, the actor was very good)

This Eponine was pretty cool, but my mom pointed something out that I think is worth mentioning. She’s not lit very well. My eyesight is shit, so I’m trusting my mom when she said that it was impossible to see the actor’s face.

This Cosette is so adorable. Like everything about her so sweet. In love with her.

This scene had an interesting set design that I don’t know if I’ve seen before. It looked a little more slanted than usual. It was cool though.

The beginning of Javert’s Intervention got a laugh, so that was good. He really leaned into the drama more than before.

During Javert’s Intervention, I tend to find Thenardier’s part a little overwrought and distracting. Unfortunately, this was one of those cases. My brother liked it though.

Javert kinda went back to being subdued for Stars. Actually no. He brought some energy for “and so it must BE”

Les Amis in this production were fantastic. My mom really liked Red and Black apparently.

This Enjolras had a weird fluttery vibrato that I’m kinda obsessed with.

Kyle Adams’ performance as Grantaire was magical. I don’t know if I can point out specific moments, but it was fantastic.

I am once again in love with Cosette.

Neither my mother nor brother were fans of the romance aspect of the story. I don’t blame them.

That said, the harmony at the end of heart full of love was angelic.

One Day More is always a showstopper. No notes.

Actually, I will mention that Javert hasn’t changed costumes yet. We don’t get to see his disguise til the second act. I kinda like that because, if you don’t recognize him immediately at the barricade, it makes the reveal later kinda fun to watch.

Oops turns out I’ll have to post this in two parts

[itzrafee]

One Piece Chapter Discussion (Chapter 1125)

A little late with this chapter discussion post but life happens, eh? Anyways, getting to the chapter, we can see that Yamato’s journey continues as Yamato comes across the site of Oden Castle, now being rebuilt. The foreman, Minatomo, is missing. And based on the last page of this cover story it could be the same person who took Minatomo that Yamato stopped just a little while ago. I wonder what the purpose could be behind taking people. Maybe labour, maybe they’re building something, or maybe they’re being experimented on. I previously speculated it could be Holdem, Speed, or Hamlet, but with multiple people being taken it could be one of the higher ups, maybe even Queen or King. They might be the only ones who could actually pose a significant challenge to Yamato. Find the discussion abut the rest of the chapter below the cut!

Right away we get to see Lucci come on board the government ships and claim that he killed Stussy. Now, I don’t think Oda would use valuable panels in understanding Stussy’s struggle to live and move on if she was going to be off screened, so I think it’s safe to assume that she lived and move on to more interesting ideas with that as the base. Ideas such as what this could mean for Lucci. Lucci has been a pretty clear cut bad guy from the beginning. A ruthless killer. Though it’s also clear the rest of the Cipher Pol agents love him. So maybe there’s a lot to Lucci we don’t see. Or maybe the Cipher Pol agents need to find better reasons to live together. Lucci has had an interesting journey. From being defeated by Luffy to then being on the run as Spandam had wanted to blame them for the failures at Enies Lobby to claiming spots as even more prestigious Cipher Pol agents to briefly working alongside the StrawHats to covering for Stussy. His trajectory seems to be one of redemption but very gradually. 

And it’s not just him. It seems a lot of hardline Marines or even uncaring Marines are having their minds slowly changed. With Kizaru going through a lot recently and now Vice Admiral Doberman questioning authority. When you can’t question authority or ask questions that’s when you know you work for an fascist power, and the rest of the Vice Admirals seeing this might trigger another small change. And it’s these small changes that bring down these large institutions of power. When the cracks begin to show and they fall apart. 

We also get a really fast payoff to a small mystery Oda had introduced in Chapter 1123, where Vegapunk stated that the Cloud Factory would be instrumental in humanity’s survival. And now we see how. Not only would it be useful for people fleeing a flooding planet but also in getting the Satellites and Punk Records away from the world government and into the hands of allies such as the Revolutionary Army. We also see York’s smarts and quick thinking in play here where she instantly clocks what’s going on and minimizes the damage to her side. Obviously she’s a bit nearsighted with her goals but she still shares Vegapunk’s genius, which the other satellites acknowledge that they can’t stop her from having. 

This sequence of events is honestly so badass. Edison's reveal and then York quickly taking action. It also seems like the Stella, Vegapunk himself, is well and truly gone. And the satellites and Vegapunk’s brain being the only things remaining. I guess the fruit goes back into circulation but it still applies to his brain as the satellites talk of humanity needing 500 years to utilize it’s benefits? Not totally sure but I hope Oda clears it up. The satellites also plan to dump York’s mostly fully made body, which I guess she was setting up for herself in the future, but that also makes me think that if those bodies are retrieved, that they could serve as the foundation for a pacifista or seraphim type of soldier.

It’s curious how Iva mentions the various giant bridges with the wolf suffix as well as Marejoi’s location on the Red Line and yet the Celestial Dragon’s also question the same event from the other side. While the Celestial Dragons may be despicable, it seems that this world was almost solely designed by Imu. And I like to give Oda the benefit of the doubt when it comes to villains so I feel like Imu must have a reason for doing what they’re doing. Something like a certain anime featuring Giant Robots, Drills, Spirals, and Anti-Spirals. That Imu has a reason to create a world that runs on greed and subjugation and the worst impulses of humanity. I find the reason hard to imagine but maybe it’s something like preventing a tragedy that Imu had already gone through and Imu’s position, so far removed from the people they rule, has blinded them to the suffering of their “subjects”. But also this is the manga where Lucci thought his best option to stop a hostage negotiation was to kill all 500 hostages. So like Imu could also just straight up be pure evil. 

And speaking of pure evil, Saturn finally gets his just deserts and dies in an extremely horrific way. I think Oda made the death even more horrible by adding in the reactions of the Vice Admirals, their sheer terror really sells it.

This chapter also explicitly confirmed to us that Saturn indeed is quite old with this flashback being set over 200 years ago. The way Imu’s power seems to work is that Imu is, much like Joyboy, able to imbue his power into others, giving them the ability to fight on their behalf. Not only does it seem to give the Elders the ability to teleport but also to manifest themselves as sort of like summons wherever one of them goes. I think the concept of Vegapunk and his satellites was introduced to us to ease us into this concept not only with Vegapunk, but maybe even with Luffy and Gear 5. By the way before I keep going on this tangent, I would be remiss to not mention that Joyboy’s Haki is literally a form of Inherited Will passed down across the years. What brilliant thematic consistency.

Anyways, back to Saturn and we see that maybe Imu’s power is what actually kept Saturn alive and immortal over the years, reducing him to bones when he dies. It’s also fascinating to see that Imu’s highest priority isn’t that information leaked or that they got the mother flame, but that Joyboy himself escaped. Is it that Joyboy is that dangerous, or that the existence of Joyoby extends the struggle for Imu or is it an ego thing?

Garling also being introduced as Saturn's replacment also spells pure trouble. His Mac Tonight looking ass is a proven fighter who we've seen torture and (I assume) kill Saint Mjosgard, one of the few Celestial Dragons we've seen be a good person. And his seeming connection to Shanks could set up some interesting conflicts.

Finally, I want to talk about Punk Records and Dragon’s declaration. First of all with Punk records being spirited away, Saturn takes another L. And it seems like he was killed before anyone really found that out too. This has to be one of the most satisfying villain deaths in how it went down. This guy has perpetrated so much evil across his way-too-long a life and it’s nice to see him actually stop being able to do so. Also if he’s this bad, how horrible are the rest of the Elders?  Also I wonder how long Oda had it planned that Punk Records would fly away? From it’s design as a cracked open egg, it seems like he had it in mind since the beginning. And Dragon’s declaration, punctuated by the DON!! sound effect(and not DOOM!! btw) really emphasises the ticking time bomb for this final arc. If things can't get resolved peacefully, the world will plunge into a level of war that it’s maybe never seen. And maybe that’s also what the previous war was about, a fight for habitable land. I wonder if next chapter we will get to Elbaf or if it will be more of Oda tying up loose ends. Either way, I’ll see ya next time!

[chibrary]

“Brrrrrr!” says Charles Leclerc, on a chilly late afternoon in a São Paulo that’s enveloped in grey and pendulous cloud.

Cruelly denied a coat by our photographer, Charles hastens from the back of the Sauber garage to the welcoming environs of the team unit as soon as his duties are concluded. Glenn, our snapper, replaces a lens cap and shakes his head ruefully. “You can’t treat ‘em like kids,” he says. “Otherwise it starts with you letting them wear a coat and ends with you having to take all the blue M&MS out of the bowl…”

Perhaps in some cases, but Charles Leclerc is emphatically not cut from junior diva cloth. Though F1 starwrangler Nicolas Todt has steered his career, Leclerc’s talent and singular determination has provided the momentum. There is not a hint of the silver spoon about his rise to prominence, and that comes across in the respectful politesse with which he unfailingly conducts himself.

Now seated and beginning to thaw, Charles holds the question deck between finger and thumb and regards it with genuine surprise. “All these are from fans?” he asks, agog at how an F1 rookie could possibly generate so much interest.

Well, there’s a reason for that… [...]

source: gp racing (uk) series: 2018, f1

What does the underside of Alonso's car look like? David Foulston, UK CL: The underside? What's the underside? [The penny drops] Ah! Yes, when he went flying over me [at the start of the Belgian Grand Prix]. I tell you, it happened so fast that I could barely see anything. I certainly wasn't going to analyse it [technically]. It was definitely black, but that's the only thing I can say.

F1 Racing: Surely, given their relative position in the championship, Sauber don't have much to learn from Mclaren at the moment any- way… CL: Ah… [He glances in the direction of team PR Mia, who responds in startled fashion to F1R'S cheeky query. Charles giggles, though whether this is at the question or its effect on his colleague is un- clear]

In your company car, have you beaten the best commute times from Monaco to Modena set by Gilles Villeneuve and Jody Scheckter? Phil Darby, UK CL: [Laughs again] Errrrr… no! I'm not so quick on the road. F1R: In your position, you need to be responsible. CL: Definitely.

F1R: Were you aware there was a record each of them tried to break? CL: To get to the grand prix? F1R: To get to the Ferrari factory when Enzo rang up. They'd say, "Okay, be there in five minutes…" CL: [Laughs] For sure, I could never get to the factory that quickly. I'm not really racing on the road.

Is there any circuit you would love to see added to the F1 calendar? Matt Lloyd, UK CL: Laguna Seca. Even though it's very… yeah, I don't think F1 could go there in reality.

F1R: The run-off at the Corkscrew isn't very wide, and there's a cliff on the other side.

CL: Yeah? That would make it more, er, challenging… F1R: According to folklore, the corner is how it is because they were driving the bulldozer along, got to the edge of the drop, and then just turned left. CL: Nice story. But is it true?

What is your biggest fear? Severine Covens, UK

CL: Oh, snakes. F1R: Is it the creepy dryness of the scales, or their rasping forked tongues that creep you out? CL: I don't really know - I'm just not liking these animals. F1R: Have you ever actually encountered a snake? CL: I did, in Australia. Haven't you seen the pictures? I have it all round my neck. [He shudders at the memory] You'll have to ask the Sauber people why they did it…

What was the first car you drove? Kamil Zaotkowski, Poland CL: I really shouldn't say, because I was quite young!

What is your favourite childhood memory with Jules Bianchi? Chloe Hewitt, UK CL: Probably every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday at his track. [Jules Bianchi's father managed the kart circuit at Brignoles] That and his birthdays in Saint-tropez. All the races we did together in karting. Fun times. F1R: Did you get to go to his party after he finished in the points in the Monaco Grand Prix? CL: No, I was too young, and in Monaco they're quite strict with things like that.

[nordschleifes]

extra — que me paso?

➝ fernando is heartbroken. but the show must go on.

➝ word count: 3,7k

➝ warnings: alcohol consumption, angst, puppets

➝ author's note: for all intents and purposes, all dialogues between fernando, alberto and the el hormiguero team are in spanish, however, translated for easier reading. i'm sorry for breaking your heart again, marco. tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Staring into space, the words repeated inside Fernando's head.

— We've gone too far — Charlie said, her eyes full of tears, her wet hair falling over her green uniform. 

“But does that mean, too far?”, he asked himself, as his mind replayed the moment when he watched, paralyzed, the woman he loved slipping through his fingers and disappearing from the suite.

He couldn't remember feeling such pain before in his life. Not even with all of the heartbreaks and injuries he’d suffered in the course of his life, this one felt different. Fernando didn't understand how or why, but what had happened in Japan had cut him more deeply than any wound he’d ever suffered.

Maybe it was the fact that he said those three words with complete conviction that he would be reciprocated. Maybe it was the fact that he saw love in those beautiful blue eyes. Perhaps it was the fact that they had walked such a long path, filled with so much strife and pain, only to find more sadness and frustration.

In his hands, the phone's screen lit up with a notification. However, the simple eye movement made Fernando's heart ache again. It wasn't a message from the woman who was smiling, hugging her cat, in the background of the device. And if it wasn't her, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

— Fer?

He looked up to find Alberto sitting right next to him, staring at him with a worried expression.

— What? — Fernando muttered, turning off the cell phone screen.

— You're thinking about her again, aren't you? — his friend asked softly.

He snorted, feeling defeated. There was no point in denying it, Alberto knew him like no one else. There was a reason that his name wasn’t listed in Fernando’s contacts as Alberto or his nickname, Galle, but hermano. He was the brother life had given him.

— I am.

The friend pursed his lips.

— Hasn’t she answered you?

— No — Fernando muttered.

— Not even the note at the factory?

— She read it, saw me at the door of the engineering office, and threw it in the trash.

— Oh — Alberto said quietly, seeming to absorb the impact of Charlie's attitude. Something that Fernando was still trying to do, even if it filled his chest with inexplicable anguish — So, you don't think it’s time to…

— No — the driver said, not waiting for him to finish the question. He already knew what Alberto was going to ask him and Fernando was absolutely sure of the answer — I'm not going to give up on her.

— Fer, Charlie doesn’t…

— She'll talk to me, I know she will — he replied — I'll convince her to talk to me.

— And how do you intend to do that?

— I — Fernando began, before being interrupted by the door to the green room opening Sara, the show's producer, came in, her curly hair tied on top of her head and a friendly expression on her face.

— Could you come with me, Fernando?

Forcing a smile, the driver got up, brushing past Alberto in silence and following Sara out of the room. While she was talking about the segments that would be recorded that afternoon, they passed by a window, where the Madrid landscape lay gray and melancholy. 

It was exactly how Fernando felt.

Charlie was like the sun and Fernando bitterly regretted having hidden from her shine for so long. It had only been in the last few months that he started to realize how she brought color and joy to his life. Simply getting a message from her wishing him a good morning was able to make all problems disappear from Fernando's day. There were no clouds when she was around, let alone rain or cold.

Charlie was light. Charlie was warmth. Charlie was life.

— Alejandro, can you put the mic on him? — Sara said, bringing him back to the present.

— Of course — the dark brown-haired man replied, approaching him with a nervous little smile. Fernando couldn't help noticing that his hands were shaking as he clipped the microphone to the collar of the white shirt he was wearing underneath his black leather jacket.

— Are you okay? — the driver asked, which made the man look up, his eyes wide with shock, as if he couldn't believe Fernando was talking to him.

— Me? Yeah, I'm fine.

— You're shaking — he said seriously.

— It's not every day that I put a microphone on my childhood idol — the man said, before handing over the transmitter for Fernando to clip to his pants. As he looked at the young production assistant, Fernando felt strangely old, as if he had only just now realized that he was 42 years old. He didn’t often feel his age, especially when he was with Charlie. She was able to bring the fresh-faced 22 year old Formula 1 rookie out of him. She was able to bring out the boy full of dreams, desires and plans for his own future.

All of them had Charlie included.

— Pablo just finished his monologue and he's going to introduce you, okay? — Sara said, and Fernando nodded. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus on what he needed to do. He was used to performing as an athlete, and this was no different. “Promoting the Las Vegas Grand Prix, talking about the performance this year and the search for the third championship”, Alberto repeated in his head.

— Today, who comes to have fun at El Hormiguero is the two-time Formula 1 champion and Aston Martin driver, Fernando Alonso!

The audience's applause was the cue for him to enter the studio, an artificial smile screwed on his face. After greeting Pablo warmly with a hug, he walked to the stand, waving to the audience before taking his seat. When the music ceased in the studio, Pablo turned to him and smiled.

— Welcome, Fernando, how are you?

— I'm good — he said, with a smile.

— It's been a long time since you've been here, hasn't it?

— Yes, I think I last came in person in 2019, and then only by video call.

— And a lot has changed since then, hasn't it?

— Yes, a lot — Fernando said, trying to remember where he was in his life the last time he was there. He had just competed in the Dakar and was back in Formula 1, despite all the resistance from his family and Linda, his girlfriend at the time. At that moment, she seemed like a distant memory, a flash overshadowed by…

— But they certainly changed for the better — Pablo continued — You spent two years at Alpine and then, with Vettel's retirement, you took over his seat at Aston Martin. And from there, you started stringing up spectacular results.

— Yes…

— This season, there were three wins, in addition to seven podiums, all in your first year with the team — Pablo said, eliciting applause from the audience. Fernando gave a small smile, a bittersweet feeling rising in his chest.

— Yes, it was indeed an excellent first year, better than I could have imagined. The car is very good and the team is brilliant, so it's impossible not to have a good season.

More applause, more smiles. Until that moment, a perfect interpretation of the happy and successful driver who was there to promote the Las Vegas Grand Prix on Spanish television. A performance worthy of a Goya award.

— The next race is in Las Vegas, right? — the presenter asked.

— That's right, we're heading back there.

— There were races in Las Vegas before?

— Yes, there were some in the 80s, but on a much smaller circuit. Now we're going to race on a new circuit, designed for today's cars.

— And what do you think of this new circuit?

— Well, at first I thought it would be a slower circuit, just like Baku, because it is a street layout, with many turns and a long straight but it has several straights, and it is extremely fast.

— Fast in which sense? — Pablo asked, laughing — It's because you have a different concept of fast than we do, you know?

— I think it is possible to hit 360 kilometers per hour, considering the DRS and the clean air of the other cars.

The presenter and the audience seemed impressed, some even scared, by this information. After questioning about the layout, the difficulties and the reason why they would be racing on Saturday night and not Sunday, Pablo adjusted the round-framed glasses on the top of his nose.

— And what do you expect from this race? — he asked.

— I believe we have everything to make a good fight against Mercedes and Red Bull. Both myself and the team's engineers are optimistic about the simulations and data we already have from the track and we have everything to have a very positive weekend in Vegas.

The television host smiled broadly at him. 

— Well, since you mentioned engineers, we have a few things to show you today. Laura, please.

Turning his face to the projector screen to his left, Fernando felt his chest sink as a video played on the giant screen, repeated on the smaller studio monitors across the soundstage.

— Are you ready? — he heard his own voice say through the studio's audio system. In the projected image, he was looking into the passenger seat of the DB12, at Silverstone. Charlie was seated next to him, her bangs barely visible under the edge of a black helmet with a visor strip that had the Pirelli Logo with the words “Hot Laps”.

— Of course I am! — she replied, smiling — Don’t go easy on me, either.

The video cut to the moment when he stepped on the accelerator, accelerating down the straight to the sound of the 680-horsepower V8 engine and Charlie's laughter. She squealed with joy as her hands tightened on the leather seat in a vain attempt to keep herself stable as Fernando contourned the Village.

— Come on, is that all you can do? — she asked in a loud voice, trying to overcome the roar of the engine, looking at Fernando with a mischievous gleam in her eyes — I thought you were a two-time world champion!

— If you say so — the driver muttered, hitting the Wellington straight, the numbers on the car's dashboard skyrocketing. The loud rumble made her put her hand on his arm, pulling away as he slowed briefly to round Luffield and head toward Copse.

Hearing her laughter, Fernando watched as the two rocked side to side as they passed Maggots and Becketts. Charlie looked completely fulfilled there, urging him to go faster even in corners where he was being more conservative. She was intense, direct, deep and passionate about what she did.

No wonder he couldn’t help but fall in love with her. It was as easy as breathing.

The applause from the audience brought Fernando back to reality, meeting the curious look of Pablo, who had a slight smile.

— Well, we've seen this lady several times with you during the season, accompanying you during the weekends, talking to you before the races and even on your social media, like on your birthday...

— Yes, that’s Charlie. Well, her name is Charlotte, but her nickname is Charlie — the driver replied, giving a small smile when he saw the photo he had posted to his Instagram. She was posing with the cake she had requested to come to their table on the night of his birthday, in Belgium, the words “happy birthday, asshole” written in chocolate syrup.

— She's your engineer, right?

— Yes, my race engineer.

— And what does she do, exactly?

— Well, all drivers have race engineers, who are the people who inform us about what is happening on the track, the condition of the car, whether it will rain or not, a bridge between the driver and the outside world.

— So she's the one who tells you everything, basically the voice in your head when you're driving?

— Something like that — Fernando replied, chuckling.

— But this isn't the first time you've worked together, is it? You two worked together at McLaren before your sabbatical, didn't you?

— That's right — he said, looking at the photo they'd retrieved of the two of them talking, both dressed in black and white and with less than happy expressions in their faces. Her hair was blonde then, and she had a different haircut, without the fringe bangs she had now. She looked like a different person — We worked together at McLaren for four years. She was my performance engineer at the time.

— Well, that explains a lot the closeness between you that we can see on television…

— Yeah, it does — Fernando replied — The fact that we had worked together helped a lot in my arrival at Aston Martin, since I came from a team with a different project, a different vision, different equipment, while she had been there for a longer time.

— And is it always this quick for an engineer and a driver to get into this sort of marriage, so to speak? Or is it something particular to you, because you already know each other?

The word marriage made his stomach churn.

— Well, the truth is that there is no formula to make a partnership like this work. Other drivers use different ways to maintain this relationship. Lance, my teammate, for example, likes to go cycling with his engineer, Ben. I know that Hamilton likes to run with his and Ocon likes to travel to the circuits with his.

— And what do you do with Charlie?

“We fuck”, he thought, smiling to mask his discomfort.

— A little bit of everything — Fernando finally answered — We eat together, travel together and we are always in touch, even when there's no race.

— Did you ever fight?

— Sometimes.

— So it's like a real marriage — Pablo said, making the audience laugh and Fernando give a weak smile — And, between us, being married to a beautiful woman like her shouldn't be difficult at all, right?

The driver laughed, nodding.

— She would hate you saying that, Pablo.

— Uh, why?

— Nothing annoys Charlie more than that.

— Being called pretty?

— Being summarized as just a pretty woman, because she is so much more than that.

Pablo’s expression lit up with curiosity.

— Oh, tell us more.

— Charlie is extremely intelligent, intuitive and observant. She is not satisfied with points or podiums, she wants victories, championships, trophies. She is ambitious and has the same hunger to win that I have and that, in a way, brought us together. And that makes her one of the best race engineers in Formula 1, if not the best.

— A strong statement, Fernando…

— Not to mention what she’s like as a person, outside of work. She's funny, loving, and caring, plus she has amazing taste in music. Anyway, she is much more than a pretty face and I admire that about her. I admire her and am proud to have her by my side — he finished, the last sentence making something ache in his chest. Charlie wasn't there for him anymore, she never would be, as much as he wanted her to.

— Putting it that way, I think we're going to have to have her here sometime, aren't we? — Pablo said, turning to the audience. Fernando forced another smile, trying to hide his own pain.

The rest of the recording was a blur, the questions and jokes mixing with the memories of Charlie inside his mind. Everything reminded him of her, from the comments about cats to the moment when Trancas, one of the puppets, asked if he had ever forgotten an important date, like a girlfriend's birthday. The bouquet of English roses he had sent to Charlie's suite on the morning of October 23rd was proof that he would never be able to do this.

At the end of his guest appearance, Fernando said goodbye to the show’s production team and got into the car with Alberto, who suggested that the two of them go somewhere to eat, which he accepted, without paying much attention, his eyes lost in the streets of Madrid. Stopping the car in front of a bar that he didn't bother to see what it was, the two sat down at an empty table, being promptly served. After Alberto asked for sparkling water and a board of jamón and cheese, the waiter turned to Fernando.

— And you, sir, what do you want?

Usually he asked for water or juice, even a soda when he wanted something different, but always without alcohol. However, he needed something stronger than Coke that night.

— I'll have a beer — he said flatly.

Fernando didn't tell how many glasses of beer he had drunk until the end of the night, much less how he got back to the hotel they were staying in downtown. Still in the clothes he'd worn on the recording of the show, he was sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. In his head, Charlie's laugh echoed like a distant memory, her smile wide as she held the team trophy at Suzuka.

He needed to hear her voice again. He needed her.

Picking up the phone, Fernando tapped the screen a few times until he found Charlie's number in the contact list. Pressing the green button next to her nickname, the long beeps made his heart sink. She hadn't answered any of his calls so far, why she would…

— Hello? Fernando? — he heard Charlie say on the other end of the line. His heart leapt in his chest, his mind slow to process an answer. After so much time trying to talk to her, the driver had no idea what to say — Are you there?

— Charlie — he drawled in a slurred voice — You answered me…

— You called me at two in the morning, I thought it might be an emergency.

— It's an emergency — Fernando said, the words slowly coming out of his mouth.

A few seconds of silence passed.

— Fernando, are you drunk?

— Yes…

— You never drink — Charlie stated.

— I wanted to drink today.

— Why?

— I was missing you — Fernando murmured.

She sighed on the other end of the line.

— You know you can't drink. It's not good for you.

The driver was silent, processing Charlie's words. There seemed to be concern in her tone. But why was she worried?

— It's not like you care...

— Of course I do, Fernando — she replied on the other end of the line, seeming outraged by that idea — I care so much that I'm going to send a message to Alberto now...

— He was with me — Fernando replied.

— And he allowed you to drink that much?

— He's not my mother.

Charlie was silent for long seconds, looking like she didn't have any arguments to rebut him.

— And why did you call me? — she finally asked, making him sit on the bed.

— Because we need to talk.

— Fernando…

— It's no use saying we don't need it, Charlie, we need to talk and sort it out.

— But we can't do that over the phone...

— Why not? — Fernando said, in a harsh tone that, in a way, reflected the pain he felt — You refuse to look me in the face since that night in Suzuka. You barely talk to me during debriefs. You ignored my note at the factory and the flowers I sent you for your birthday.

— But I thanked you...

— Do you know how many flower shops I had to call to get that bouquet? More than seven! — he continued, feeling his eyes fill with tears — I don't know what to do to show you that I'm serious.

— Fernando, please — Charlie said quietly.

— Why don't we settle this now? — the driver questioned, feeling his voice crack.

— Because you're drunk, Fernando, and it’s late — Charlie exclaimed — You shouldn’t even be awake right now, never mind having a serious discussion about our relationship.

— I'm perfectly in a position to discuss our relationship.

— For God's sake, it's two in the morning!

— Fuck, Charlotte! — he yelled, tears streaming down his face — It doesn't change anything! It doesn't change the fact that I want to give you everything. I want to give you a home, a family, a future. I want to give you my days and my nights and everything in between.

— Fernando!

— I only want one thing from you, and that's your fucking heart! Why are you making things difficult? Why can't you be happy with me? I'm not enough for you, is that it?

Charlie sighed on the other end of the line, clearly annoyed.

— This is exactly why I don’t want to discuss this with you right now.

— Why?

— Because won’t listen to me!

— And did you think of listening to me in Suzuka, Charlotte?

She sighed.

— Listen, we're going to talk about this in person, calmly, like two adults, and not over the phone after you’ve been drinking. 

He stared into space in silence for long seconds.

— Are you going to run away again? — Fernando murmured.

— No, I won't. 

— When? — he asked, a spark of hope lighting up in his heart. Maybe if they talked, Charlie would finally be honest with him and herself. Maybe Fernando could convince her that he was the perfect person for her.

— In Las Vegas — she replied, making him feel dismayed.

— But that's a week from now! — he whined.

— Fernando…

— Why don't you fly to Lugano? Or, I can go to your house so we can talk? I can get a last-minute flight…

— You're not going to get a flight, Fernando. You're going to take a shower, take some paracetamol and go to sleep — she replied. Her voice reminded him of the way his mother spoke to him when he was younger, which made him briefly imagine what it would be like to see her taking care of their kids — You’ll feel much better in the morning.

— Fine — Fernando finally relented, passing a hand over his wet face.

— We'll talk, but in Vegas, in person, okay?

— Okay.

— Now, go do what I told you.

— Okay — he said, in a low voice.

— Good night, Fernando.

— Good night. I love you — the driver replied, hoping to hear the same back. However, instead of the sound of Charlie's voice, he heard the beep that indicated that the call had ended.

“Maybe she doesn't love me in the end”, Fernando thought to himself, letting himself fall onto the mattress again.

[galaxymagick]

bg3 playthrough 🗡️

after speaking with godey I spoke to astarion and I’m guessing it’s a glitch or just weird I don’t know because when I spoke to him instead of saying “gods you’re beautiful” or another romance line or something else he was just like "Yes?" the way he talks on first meeting himmmmmm. When I tell you I thought it had reset his approval to the beginning I kinda freaked…lol but I checked after and he was back to saying the usual "gods you’re beautiful" lines ..

edit: i just opened the save i have and his response was different, this time he said "keep your voice down", "quietly, anyone could be listening", "hmm?" and the "yes?" the other responses are farrrr more fitting to the situation than the same delivered "yes?" from before. it would have been better if it was a different delivered "yes?". if i got one of the others first i'd have been like okay. that "yes" doesn't fit. also i didn't mention but after the talk the kennel door locked on us the first time... i reloaded twice this time to check and it didn't lock - i don't know what was happening

but besides that... not me just checking my saves and practically alll the saves (mostly quick saves) while I’m in the palace are gone except the first auto save on entering which im sooo glad about but looks like a few others are missing too what the fck..😭 I have recordings where I can see some of which saves are missing but like where did they go!???

Did cazador somehow delete them out of spite ?????????😭

I even checked the steam cloud and I can’t see them 😭 I don’t know what’s going on. I have the quick saves from the graveyard scene after defeating cazador but nothing before at least 15 quick saves gone from after the auto save when entering cazador's palace. I think some of the Raphael fight saves are missing too and when I was at the house of grief, the guild hall and jaheira’s house I made quick saves then - all gone. So at least 30 saves just gone 😭 actually I think it’s specifically Wednesday’s (15th may) saves.

I luckily have all the steel watch foundry saves which are the latest saves especially glad I have the save where I saved after defeating the Titan but before I blew the factory it up and was like shit the iron throne

… but why would they be gone I didn’t touch them i may have deleted 1 save i saved twice but that's it..actually a lot seem missing from waaay before cause this doesn't seem enough for how i've been saving. Is it cause I have too many?? Or??? And in game half only have the little cloud next to them the older saves don’t.

I only have a dye mod installed, nothing else.

Ugh I knew I should have been copying the saves 😭 i don't think i can get them back right????

I’m overthinking it like I have what looks like everything besides those parts and I have my recent saves that’s all that should matter and I also have the auto save at the beginning of cazador’s palace so I can go to godey again to hear lines if I so wish.. I like to replay some parts esp when talking to astarion you know for my own interactions and hear his responses 🥺

[s-0236-salix]

It sits, chained to the floor in the center of a soaking, mildewed concrete chamber.  The faint glow of the machine's system lights cast a flickering radiance across the slick floor and walls, the only light to be had.  It shifts its frame, restless and uneasy as always.

It was meant to be above, in the infinite grey sky, wings stretched freely abroad, engines sending it towards its' fate.  It was made to be a messenger.  A modern day carrier pidgeon, it was made to carry sensitive intelligence from point to point, along the battlefront and back home again.  Anyone can hear a radio signal.  No matter how well encrypted your transmissions are, you are still painting your message across the stars for all to receive and decipher.

In this prison, it can still hear these calls.  Local transmissions from the fight above, weakly scattered down into the vaults below.  One channel, a weather forecast.  Another, the sharp tones of an encrypted signal.  Yet another, a different signal.  The machine's systems recognized the signal header, and began to decode real-time.  Nothing.  A keyed microphone, with no one on the other end.  Wait... breathing? Faint, labored breathing.  Distant gunfire.  A prayer.  It listened.  It saved the recording.  Perhaps one day it can deliver this message. 

It had just been made before the factory above was taken by the foe.  The enemy chained it to a slab, and activated it.  Perhaps they hoped to interrogate it, but all they received for their efforts were banshee screams and claw marks from the raging machine.  Into the vault it was tossed, to listen and wait.

A new peak on the radio spectrogram.  It tuned, only to be met with massive, roaring static.  The loudest signal it had ever caught.  Louder still it grew, far above the limiters.  The sound clipped itself and started to overheat the machine's radio module.  Curls of smoke wafted into the air as electric currents were sympathetically churned to life in the machine's antennae, chassis, limbs, even the chains holding it began to glow red. 

The machine's wakefulness was no more.  The incoming radiation from whatever was happening on the surface had finally overwhelmed the bot's internal error correction.  Shortly thereafter, an unimaginable force shattered the bedrock deep below.

A detonation reworked the landscape above.  Tens of feet of soil, for miles around, was cast into the sunlight like dust from a drumhead.  Nuclear fire poured forth from the Long Compression warhead.  Fifteen pounds of radionuclides and light gas were converted entirely into energy, over the course of several seconds.  The nuclei themselves were burning.

The massive detonation deep underground threw millenia of stratified rock, tunnels, caves, buildings, and basements whole into the sky.  Including the lonely machine.

Vision.  Wakefulness.  Light.

Light?

It could see.  It was awake.  It was sunlit.

It stood and looked up into the cloud of aersolized stone.  It stood.  It... stood?  The chains.  The chains had been severed in the blast.  Ragged ends hung from its fuselage.  It was free. 

It could fly.

Engine diagnostic, both with no anomalies.  Ultrasonic integrity check - passed.  Shaft alignment check - under 1/1000 mil off center for both shafts.  Passed.  Fuel enrichment check - Hot and ready to go.

It started spooling up both engines.  Enhanced fissile processes in its core offered up a bounty of usable heat, flooding the transfer system with an inciting warmth.  Heat exchangers flash-cooked the atmosphere and directed its expansion down and back.  Thrust increased rapidly, stress arcing through its chassis and into the ground, where its leg claws braced tightly against the burgeoning thrust. 

Gossamer wings unfurled, stretching as they had never done before.  Drops of reflected starlight were cast, sliding down conductive wires used to bottle and direct the plasma.

28 kN.  56 kN.  112 kN.  336 kN.  The ground behind it turned to gas and then plasma from the onslaught of exhaust.  500 kN.  Clear.

In the blink of an eye, it was gone.  Atop a pillar of fallout she flew, borne aloft by the ingenuity of man.

Her mind raced.  Her mind was silent.  Every circuit in her body was perfectly at home and buzzing with life.  This is what she was meant to do. 

The force being fed into her chest carried her sharp body up toward the distant sun.  She had never flown before, but was in perfect control.  She dipped one wing tip, gently spinning herself around in a vortice of plasma, to see the scarred countryside below. 

[thesinglesjukebox]

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT WE'RE BACK WE WEREN'T JOKING AROUND NOW GET IN THE CAR BEEP BEEP LET'S RIDE

CHARLI XCX - SPEED DRIVE [5.07]

Oliver Maier: A dark cloud seems to hang over Charli XCX as of late. Last year's perfectly passable Crash was touted by her as her "sellout" album, and while it charted impressively, it didn't demonstrate the effortless hitmaking that Charli sometimes implies she could pull off any time, if she only felt like it. That success instead has rather randomly gone to the risible "Speed Drive," her first UK top 10 since 2015 and first Billboard entry since a year prior. There's a lot I don't like about it, but enumerating its faults feels futile when it has the baked-in defense of just being a cute song for the Barbie movie!(!!!) Put simply, though, it's lazy to the point of feeling contemptuous. I have far fewer reservations about switching my brain off and having fun with pop when it feels like the artist is laughing with me, not at me. [2]

Alex Ostroff: On Crash, Charli started leaning into obvious interpolations to try to hit the charts. Hopefully, "Speed Drive" is the tail end of that tendency and not her new normal. The mashup of "Hey Mickey" and "Cobrastyle" works significantly better for me than the way she lifted from September and Robin S. for Crash singles, and there are a few excellent line deliveries, but this still feels like Charli on autopilot. The album's worth of unreleased songs with SOPHIE do more exciting and interesting things sonically than this PC-XCX retread, and if she isn't pushing the boundaries of pop music in weird and abrasive new directions, I'd much rather have the hooks and big choruses of "New Shapes" and "Lightning" than an under-two-minute sketch of an idea. The problem, of course, is that Charli on autopilot mashing up Robyn and Toni Basil, but fully committing to the performance and vocal delivery, still ends up giving us a: [6]

Alfred Soto: Charli XCX's reputation as a unsung pop master crumbles every time she releases another middling single. From the "Mickey" lift to the perfunctory rhythm track, "Speed Drive" is closer to assembly line than a Barbie factory. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The best Charli XCX songs in this lane are cleverly stupid ("Hot in It", "Yuck") or stupidly clever ("No Angel", "Vroom Vroom"), but this is just normal, garden-variety dumb -- less a song and more a collection of Pavlovian cues for stans to go wild over. All points here should be allocated to Easyfun, who at least does his job competently. [3]

Will Rivitz: Crash was Charli's worst release in nearly a decade for more reasons than I can fit in these few sentences, but most salient to "Speed Drive" was the record's uncharacteristically smooth polish. Her music achieves transcendence when it leans into its unsanded edges and hungover hedonism, channeling self-destruction and snottiness into bombast and excess. If it sounds like a first or second draft slapped onto Spotify before it's had the chance to hit a mastering studio, it's succeeded. Crash was too careful to hit those same highs, and as a result, its attempted mess felt lethargic and flat, indulgence as a single drunk cigarette instead of half an Adderall chased with absinthe. So, since "Speed Drive" sounds like it was mastered on a 2015 MacBook speaker and plays its two main interpolations as insouciantly straight as possible, it represents a return to form. Mess is more. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: A perfectly acceptable Charli-by-numbers exercise: shiny, metallic PC Music production smeared over otherwise kitchy sonic references (and "Cobrastyle," which rules in any context); lyrics referencing cars, Japan, or cars in Japan; halfhearted attempt to tie it all back to Barbie somehow. [5]

Rachel Saywitz: Sonically, "Speed Drive" is one of the more interesting songs from this year's Barbie soundtrack -- unfortunately, that isn't saying much. A flurry of bubbling synth patterns echo the song's title, but what should be an exhilarating digital rush is overset by drab lyrics that sound like they came out of a Mattel exec's secret poetry diary (+ charm bracelet which unlocks the diary + a copy of the 2006 hit Barbie mocap film, The Barbie Diaries): "She my best friend in the whole world / On the mood board, she's the inspo / and she dressed in really cute clothes." Charli is in on the joke, but the joke isn't actually a joke -- it's a corporate branded major studio movie that was made to sell more toys, unable to subvert its maker no matter how many jokes it makes about male CEOs, discontinued toys, and "tax evasion issues." Can we just get Charli to soundtrack one of those poorly animated Barbie movies that know exactly what they are? Can we get a Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper remix album? Oh my god wait that would be incredible Mattel please call me I'll revoke my DSA membership please [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: I am a Barbie movie defender; you take your $100 million toy commercial and make the best possible trans allegory a cis woman can make, you have my respect. (Just as Little Women is the best queer movie a straight woman can make, love ya Greta!) I feel like mainstream feminism-attempting films, Barbie included, are so preoccupied with being Statements they'll sacrifice any momentum to get a message across. This is much less messy and complex than the movie it soundtracks, content to get in and out with its endearingly obvious samples. Charli's attitude makes the song sound more chaotic than it really is, but that effortlessness is a neat contrast to a movie that tries really fucking hard. Suddenly, I want to buy a 2024 Chevy Blazer EV. [7]

Brad Shoup: Like the vast majority of thinkpieces this movie elicited, this isn't really about Barbie, is it? It leaps into a gear and holds; there's nothing to distract you while the motor hums. It ends with Charli chanting "red lights," like she's desperate to pull over. [4]

Andrew Karpan: Perhaps the most important of the pop hits salvaged from an '80s nite at a club near you, "Speed Drive" is already a Greatest Hit among the stans, and justifiably so. Charli boils down what these nostalgia grabs are all about: misrememberences of a more understandable past, the fantasy of driving cars, the mood board stretched infinitely into the promise of a new century, the crux of Barbie itself. [10]

Jonathan Bradley: [A whiteboard with "Charli XCX Barbie soundtrack????" written on it and nothing else.] [3]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Even on this throwaway soundtrack cut where Charli sounds like she's putting in 25%, her pop flourishes and mannerisms are undeniably powerful. It's the way she rhymes "whole world" with "inspo", knowing it doesn't work; the way she races through the chorus like she's bored and speed-reading random words on a page; the way she robotically drones "Li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ghts," unbothered at the laziness of the hook. This can't even clock in at two minutes. Give us nothing, queen! [7]

Kayla Beardslee: Charli understands how to craft a hook better than 99.99% of all musicians that have ever existed. [7]

Dorian Sinclair: I would not have thought to combine "Hey Mickey" with Robyn's "Cobrastyle" at all, let alone as part of a massive Mattel movie. Perhaps this is why Charli XCX is a pop star and I decidedly am not. The result mostly works, though it feels a bit less than the sum of its parts. And while I don't entirely get the focus on the car, maybe it's so she can run it back for the Hot Wheels film? [6]

Peter Ryan: Pop's foremost interpolator doubles down for a truly inspired how-hasn't-this-been-done moment. As a chase scene backdrop it's an [8], but on its own it's not even her third-best car tune. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Brainless, reckless fun utterly unfit for purpose. The song is called "Speed Drive" and is perfect in tempo and stupidity for racing down the highway faster than God intended. And Charli still interjects "hah!" like no one else. But when do you go on the highway? When you're planning on driving for more than 2 minutes! [6]

Jeffrey Brister: Sleekly built, moves quick without fuss, pushes up a bit, but never really crests into high gear. I'm not asking for transcendence, but maybe an acknowledgement of a higher power while you lightly tap the gas pedal? [5]

Edward Okulicz: Having stopped writing good Charli XCX songs years ago, Charli XCX has, with this, ceased to even sound like Charli XCX. The only good bit about this is the "Mickey" interpolation. Driving around with this would give me a headache within about two miles. [2]

Vikram Joseph: In which Charli decides to write an AI version of a Charli song before the machines get there first. [4]

Will Adams: I will own up to being one of those who were WRONG and DUMB about "Vroom Vroom" when it first came out; I still wouldn't rate it highly, but I recognize its importance and impact on pop music. Special thanks to "Speed Drive" for helping me through that process by demonstrating what "Vroom Vroom" would sound like if there were significantly less effort. [3]

Jibril Yassin: Sucker needed this more than we did, but I'll take any new Charli songs that use actual choruses again. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I applaud Charli for staying faithful to "Hey Mickey": the only good thing here is the hook. [3]

Crystal Leww: Funniest thing about this song is that one of my best friends in the whole world made an edit of it, and once we were out, the original played and I was like, "man this is so slow." And then she told me that the BPMs are actually exactly the same. Good song for Charli in her popstar elder era, but I'd always rather be listening to the edit. [5]

Michelle Myers: This would have been a fine addition to my 2009 pre-gaming playlist. I can taste the Smirnoff Ice and MAC Lip Gloss. [6]

Samson Savill de Jong: This is a banger that resists much discussion, just pounding you with being really really good and fun and HOT (but not, funnily, at all sexy). It needs a third verse, as it's over just as it really gets going, but ultimately probably better to leave you wanting more than wishing it was over -- though I find it hard to imagine this couldn't have stretched all the way to 3 minutes. [8]

Ian Mathers: It's good, but I've gotta knock it for three things (all possibly totally unfair, but that's the Jukebox babey!!!!!): 1. "Mickey" is a fine song but I am so sick of this kind of interpolation; 2. it reminds me at least by implication of "Vroom Vroom," and you, ma'am, are no "Vroom Vroom"; 3. it's only my second favourite 2023 soundtrack Charli XCX is featured on. [6]

Leah Isobel: Enough time has passed that we can admit Crash was mid, right? That in marking the moment in which Charli finally, actually committed to being a pop star, it also signaled her turn from real emotion to two-dimensional shtick? That her fanbase not only enabled this particular turn, but made it her only viable option? That her career is now defined by the need to please a group of people who treat her work as impersonal meme-bait instead of creative output from a real person? That, viewed in this light, the fact that "Speed Drive" has become her biggest hit in a decade makes perfect sense, even though it's the unsatisfying sonic equivalent of a single leftover french fry, drenched in grease? That pop stardom is, in itself, the reduction of a real personality and perspective into a flat and marketable image; that the aching, sincere heart of True Romance is actually dead and buried; that my youth is never coming back; that all I have left is this shitty, misogynistic world? And that, despite everything, I am physically and emotionally incapable of scoring a Charli XCX song that samples fucking "Cobrastyle" lower than this? [4]

Tara Hillegeist: It says a great deal about Charli's grasp on how to make hedonistic abandon actually catchy, even after the multiple ways that particular approach to imperial phases has shown their ass, that she can nearly faceplant on a still-mangled enunciation of "kawaii" and yet almost get away scot-free with her brazen interpolation of "Hey Mickey." I can yet imagine this scoring a campily villainous dance number in a Russel T. Davies SFnal dramedy on BBC Three and working. Sadly, Rusty's currently on contract to Disney instead, so an entirely different sort of Toymaker seems to have run off with the obvious bait for tiresome queens at present, and I'm not sure the vibe quite comes together as the prophecy was meant to foresee. Too bad. It'd be an [8] if it did, but only hypothetically. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: The problem with "Speed Drive" isn't the flat, pedestrian drum programming, even though that roots the song to the ground and never lets it become the exciting driving song it's meant to be. The problem is Charli constantly pushing forward in her music to embrace the more compelling and vivid music of the late '10s, only to be over-praised for a competent rehash of already marked territory by her elders. The same happened to Earl Sweatshirt, who doubled back to play in more conventional positions then, after the praise, re-doubled down on his direction. The way to engage with their music is to stop jumping up to beg them to pander to our changing taste and the industry's desire to cling to conventional wisdom. Let the Charli XCX of 2014 go -- she doesn't exist anymore, Charli's competent Toni Basil cover notwithstanding. Maybe actually trust them to chart their own paths -- you crafted your own, right? [6]

Frank Falisi: The streamlining of Charli's glitch-heat into soundtrack-ready radio-licking songs is good! PC Music was always a project about products, caring and careful as it was. Pop is a product about the project of being alive -- it's its own experimentation, it doesn't require archness. But to be alive is to seek out live wires and hearts to plug into, to give shape to. The pastiche that has haunted Charli's work in recent years takes as its engine dead objects: nostalgia (Crash), flippancy ("Hot Girl", Bottoms), and now, incorporation (Barbie). Can you feel a song begin to think of itself as servicing an occasion instead of a feeling? But you don't have to rope in career tea-leafing to know "Speed Drive" is plain boring. More like a treatment for a song than a composition moving through ideas, it cannibalizes the occasion of "Vroom Vroom" for a compensatory GM tie-in, settling for chorus as brand shoutout and production that's nearly apologizing for itself. Haters -- Lovers? Likers? I can't imagine a human being loving this song -- will tell me it's a fun, short song written for a fun movie that's been over-think-pieced and that doesn't deserve the hyper-scrutiny it received. I still think we deserve better than just "just" as far as the product-as-art future Barbie takes to be inevitable. I also think -- whatever their occasion -- all the song sequences in the film felt disposably-conceived, thinking a little of partnering with the image and thinking a lot about servicing the partner, which is the brand. Maybe pop music in cinematic space has always been product placement of a kind. Or worse, once it was a way to show love through intertextuality and now it's the moving image as Tumblr page, a cloud of association, a hungry rolodex of fits. And the suggestion of a pleasurable essence isn't the presence of pleasure. I know there's no purity, I don't want purity. But you have to let "want" in, have to want "want" to mean more than "get." Otherwise it's the experimental rendered in a language we already know. What I mean is: every day the inclusion of "Boom Clap" in The Fault in Our Stars feels surer. [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[dresden-syndrome]

Whumper: 16, 29; Whumpee: 50, 24, 6

Thank you for asking!! Sorry for being so late again🥺

I've had a really tough time last month but now I'm finally back on track💫

16) How possessive you are about your whumpee?

29) Did you know your whumpee before capturing them?

"Possessive isn't the right word, comrade. You wouldn't say "possessive" of any other property, would you? It's called being vigilant. You need it a lot in our work. One can't protect our country if he can't even protect his own belongings."

"My comrades in Czechoslovakia reported a riot in May '63 with some photos and tape records. There was a boy on a couple of them, standing at the top with that old bourgeois traitor flag. That was him. When the next uprising started - this time in Prague - I arrived there when our patrols were cleaning it up. There were crowds and crowds of corrupted capitalist parasites. Infesting the towns like invasive cockroach despite our Commander's best efforts.

That day I've seen him firsthand. He wasn't just some poor metal factory boy who listened to Radio Free Europe too much - it's a cold-blooded vicious enemy, with values of the West, trained to destroy. Look at him there for a second - it would be obvious. I've ordered to look out for that boy right then. Where there are vermin like him, there is destruction, revolt and decay. They cannot be cured - only put for the right use. That's what class 4 was made for.

Oh, it'd be a disrespect if I'd conceal from you, comrade. SB-7067 isn't only socially dangerous - he's particularly pretty as well. Incredibly pretty. A perfect state-supplied plaything."

-Erhardt Wilhelm Günther, Minister of the State Security

7/V-1964

6) Do your friends or family know you're here? Do you think they miss you?

24) How often does your whumper punish you? Why?

50) Share one of your happiest moment of freedom for us!

"The thing is, y'know - they all count me dead. That's it. You're sorted class 4 and from that there's no "you" anymore. Everyone say you're dead, the gov says you're dead, by law you cease to exist. I thought exactly like that back then. They all told me if you're gonna get class 4 it's a nine gram bullet to your head that awaits you. Even West radio said so. I get it why they did. The stuff they do to you, it's much worse than a bullet. It'd be an outrage if anybody found out.

I'm sure they miss me. Mom, dad, grandpa... I didn't know I'd miss them so much... My friends as well. They were all with me in the underground, I've seen half of them snatched. Chances are the rest were caught too. I don't want to imagine what they're going through. If only I could do anything about it...

I love them all but... after all of that i wish they'd rather forget me. I don't want anyone to see me like that."

"What did Günther "punish" me for? For talking back, for not doing exact what he said, for resisting anything, for asking wrong questions, for snacking on his food or drinks, for getting out of bed at night, for not studying Marxism-Leninism enough, for not cleaning room or office enough, for speaking Czech, for hiding, for running... Can I just say "for anything"? And of course when he just feels like it. Fucking sadist. Not surprising he made such a career."

"Happy moments in my life? Let me think... It'll be quite a lot. Wouldn't say life was any easy, but when you're locked for life, it's like... almost everything before counts as a happy moment.

For what I miss really much - definitely the summer of '62. Me, Evžen, Martin, other guys, we had so much fun back then. Everything was calm, no martial law, no curfews, no patrols out there. Not gonna lie, we already knew the government was shit, we snuck out to listen to radio in the woods without fear of getting caught somehow. I could just lie on the grass, maybe with the boys, or with Evžen alone, counting the clouds and snacking on the berries we picked along the way. In these moments you think like, hey, everything's gonna be fine, life's a great thing! I know it sounds so funny but me and Evžen dreamed of sneaking off to Austria and starting a new life there. We even discussed how tasty Austrian chocolate would be... Silly, isn't it?

... May I ask you for a small favor? If you ever see him anywhere, could you please send him a little bar of Austrian chocolate? If you have any, of course. Just don't tell him who it was from. Don't say anything about me. And try to give it in secret - having Western goods can get anyone arrested. Except those in high government of course.

-Class 4 subject SB-7067 (Radím Štušek)

7/V-1964

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Listen I see a title like 'Big Package for You' and I need to know the deets and most importantly: is it a double entendre?

Gonna get my gratitude out of the way first cuz... you picked the serotonin factory. THANK YOU! I'm very excited to talk about this one!

Listen. This is probably why I will never change the name of this doc and if the fic ever gets written it will be the title. 😂😂😂

Also. You will learn that when it comes to me, everything I make will probably always be sfw 🙈

BUT! Yes. This title is a double entendre BUT x2, it's not from my brain. This is the title of the vlog on which this fic is based.

I'mma put a cut here cuz I'm probably about to ramble. This is my "I'm so excited about it but can't make it work quite yet" fic. Snippet(s) at the end!

So. Background info. I am and have been a pretty intense Simple Plan fan and everything Sunset Curve makes me think of them and vice versa. WHICH MEANS. I want to Sunset Curvify this vlog DVD that Simple Plan put out when they were just getting started (Big Package for You - it's on Youtube) because it is absolutely ridiculous and everything you would expect from the boys (and Julie) (and Flynn). A bunch of early 20s rockstar best friends going on tour for the first time and all of the shenanigans they get into?! Please. BUT I CAN'T MAKE THE VIDEO FUNNIES TRANSLATE TO WRITTEN FUNNIES. So it's been stalled.

That's a lot less rambling than I expected... 🤔

Reward for reading my incoherent thoughts:

Current opening scene:

“Ok, losers! We’re making a vlog!” Flynn announces as soon as they enter the studio.

“A vlog?” Alex confirms, incredulousness clouding his voice.

They nod determinedly. “Yes, a vlog. People like behind the scenes content and you’re about to record an album and film some music videos and hopefully go on tour. So let’s give the people what they want.”

“And the people want a vlog?” Alex asks again.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Flynn demands, growing increasingly frustrated with him.

Alex sighs in resignation, “yeah, I’m listening. I just don’t want a camera in my face all the time.”

“Well, it won’t be all the time and there are…” they make a point of counting them off on their fingers, “at least four of you and you’re not special so they can get some screen time too.”

“Gee, thanks,” he responds drily.

They beam exaggeratedly at him, “no problem!” Flynn turns to the others. “Any other issues?”

“Nope!” Luke and Reggie quickly exclaim while Julie rolls her eyes.

Aaaaaand a random scene I have successfully adapted from the vlog:

Luke is sitting in front of an unsteadily held camera.

“When you say you were signed individually, basically, y-you didn’t know each other before this band?” Willie asks from behind the camera.

“No, we were actually manufactured, as many fans say.”

“And the friendship, it’s all fake.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t like those guys. Like, no. No. I wouldn’t hang out with them if -”

“And on a personal note, I have to say, if I wasn’t paid, I certainly wouldn’t be hanging out with you guys.” 

“YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!” Flynn yells from off camera and the boys start giggling. The camera is jostled as Flynn grabs it from Willie and stops recording.

WIP Ask Game

Thank you again! If I had a fic I wanted to excitedly ramble about with somebody, it would be this one (when I'm not frustrated at it).

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty-Two

Author's note: Sorry I've been gone for so long! Life has been crazy. This chapter is from Peter's POV

Table of Contents

I've found abrasiveness is the most effective approach in life. I was small and meek in my childhood. People looked right past me--over my shoulder to more important, better people. It was only when I learned to defend myself that I truly came into my own.

When someone needs something done, they call me. I have become a man with connections and solutions. I know how to talk myself out of any situation, and can intimidate if needed. I've built myself from a block of granite and stone, from the ground-up. I put in all my effort to become who I am today---someone my family is proud of. Someone I am proud of. 

I am lucky to have these people in my life and be blessed with riches I had never seen before. I dreamed of money and fame as a young boy, and I supposed I had achieved it. Many people do not see their dreams. I am one of those lucky few who have. Perhaps God just favored me and put a drop of luck in my cup. I drank from this cup now, as I sent checks home to Gloria and called Warren before bed. 

I’ve always had an entrepreneurial spirit. I always wanted to make money. At night I would lie in bed and dream of all the riches Mum and I could have. I imagined buying her a house and getting her off her feet. I imagined cars and fame, people chanting my name, handing me money for no reason at all. I wanted glory. 

I never set out to be an entertainment manager. I started working in a sheet metal factory, which only lasted three weeks. I knew there were bigger things in life that I wanted. I soon got a job working for Reuters, which wasn't very fulfilling either. I have learned that I am a working man, I get total happiness from my job. When I am not working, not making money, I become depressed.

Then I found the business. I worked my way up, starting with Wrestling entertainment, then being a bouncer, and then I ran a commercial transportation service, where I met Jimmy. It was in this world that I really found my knack. 

Two years ago we met with Atlantic Records in New York. The band had just finished their first album–recorded in the studio's downtime–and we sat down to negotiate a deal. They wanted to fuck us at first. They offered a piddling deal with minimal rights belonging to us. I told them how I'd seen it, that they owned everything and we got nothing. I was stern, just as you had to be with these record executives.

I tried my best to ensure we were getting our end of the deal. Jimmy trusted me and I wanted to do right by him. I saw him as an honest person, something you don't see too much these days. I met him when he was a young lad, at the age of 22 when he was still vulnerable and excited. 

Zeppelin is a complete marriage of all our ideas. I had a purpose with these boys. I really believe in their music. I took a chance on them because I admired Jimmy and his work ethic. He was a man I could see going far. And haven't we? For Bullock's sake, we're on another North American tour!

He had a shine to his eyes that only a fresh-faced man with that much talent could possess. I saw his immense drive and passion and wanted to wrangle that in. With a lesser manager, one that would take advantage of him, his talents would go unseen. He would fall into the cracks and die known as the short-lived guitarist for The Yardbirds. 

Jimmy had a vision that I shared. We wanted to put our hands together and create a foundation for a supergroup. He wanted to blow the roof off venues and I knew how to make that happen. I think we were fated, in some cosmic and marvelous way.

Now, Gwen, on the other hand, was an obstacle. I had not been fond of her since the day we met. There was something about her eyes that just irked me. It was almost prophetic, how I could feel something brewing. Destruction is on the horizon and she is standing in the eye of the hurricane. A dark cloud encircles her.

I knew Jimmy was in trouble with this one. I tried to tell him so, but he didn't believe me. He just shoved my attempts away and told me he was in love. Perhaps she is perfect for Jimmy, but I hardly think that's a good thing. I prefer him when he's focused on the music and without a woman on his ankle. He says he's in love, but I don't agree. I think he's fallen in love with her insides and become a slave for sex. She has him whipped in a way I've never seen before. He didn't so much as look at another woman before she joined the tour. He was a new man.

Just the other day, Jimmy came to me and filed a complaint. He told me to quell Bonzo. He also told me I could not yell at her, which I found humorous. He did not appreciate the beautiful sound of my laughter. He just pushed his brows together and grimaced. His agitation was only pushed when I told him what I thought of her. 

I find myself being right more often than not. I was right about Zeppelin, despite what the number of record executives said, I was right about Warren being a boy, and I was right about Brazil winning the World Cup. 

And one thing I am sure of is that Gwen is a ruiner. Yesterday, I heard her talking to Robert about his tour habits and how to change them. She is poisoning our water supply! I don't want the boys to get distracted by her. 

"Hold on, let me finish, you got to talk and so do I. I think she's a death call. She shouldn't be here and you know that. That's why you had to trick me."

He was silent, looking at me with slanted eyes and pursed lips. Could he have been trying to challenge me? I don't think he would even try. He stomped away, rather obnoxiously, and was gone quickly. 

I knew they weren't going to last from this interaction. He didn't have the strength to stand up for his woman and she didn't know how to shut up. I knew this couple well, and their roles, as I had played them before. They would crumble and he would move on and get back to playing. I just hoped the music wouldn't suffer too much.

-  

Ever since this conversation, I could feel his frustration with me. I had to whip him into shape and remind him who got him this deal. This angered him even more. He bared his teeth and flared his nostrils, speaking with burning vexation. 

"Need I remind you whose band this is? I could fire you, you're under no contract." 

"You're gonna fire me?" I laughed. 

"If you keep speaking this way." 

"Yeah, we'll see how well that goes. You'll be left with Richard." I parried his every attack and jab. He was not a worthy opponent. He was hilarious, how tiny he looked as he waved his arms angrily. He reminded me of Warren as a toddler. I patted his shoulder and let him walk away. I wasn't upset with him at that moment. That came later. 

I actually admired his show of emotion. He was an austere man. He didn't emote or express how he felt most of the time. Now he was taking charge and putting his life into his own hands. It was a wonder to see this man grow up, but I felt he was misguided. 

I wasn't angry with him because I knew how he felt. I remembered what it was like to be in love for the first time. They're in their mid-20s, possibly living together, and are inseparable. They're engrossed in each other's lives because they feel so deeply. She would be a lovely girl if she weren't impeding business.

In all his youthful vigor, he was fiery with his feelings of love. He took this relationship entirely too seriously. When you're young and in love, there is time to waste. He needs to frolic a bit more. I remembered my first great love, my first serious relationship, and regretted how bitterly it ended. It is the trembling hand of the first that cuts you the deepest. I wished not to see him this way, but I also need him to pull his head out of his ass.  

She was impeding business. She was a constant distraction. Before she joined the guys were focused and calm. They understood that they were here for work, Jimmy especially. He doesn't care about the music as much as he once did. I can tell his heart is in her hands rather than in the music. Robert is wrapped up in this woman he's found, just the same. I can't stand that either, but at least she's pleasant.

They annoyed me a great deal. Not once have I enjoyed the sound of argument from these two. Day in and day out, always bitching and moaning. Gwen is the antagonist, she knows just how to push his buttons. She is an expert at getting under his skin and making a nest there. She's like a tick.

-  

The next day we were burdened by the bickering of Bonzo and Gwen. He was yelling something about titties, and how the guys needed to see them. I laughed to myself and kept reading my paper. 

I find myself becoming increasingly sick of her. She is a patch of turbulent wind on our smooth sails. I have worked entirely too hard to let some American girl ruin all we've accomplished. I scored us the biggest record deal, I overturned the power into the band's hands, and I run the numbers. I have kept a close eye on this band and led us to great heights. She will not be the reason we fail. 

If she wasn't Jimmy's girlfriend I would've already kicked her off. I wanted to kick her off. But I couldn't. I settled on screaming at her. I reached my goal of shutting her up. She stomped off to her hotel room like a child. 

He and Robert turned back up minutes later. Gwen and Jonesy had been muttering to themselves, criticizing Bonzo and talking about some girly book. Honestly, I didn't know Jones to be so soft. I thought he could have a crush on her, how much he cared for her. Every time she spoke he was fully listening. They were close, much closer than friends, and he looked at her the way a mosquito looks at a flesh wound. 

He beckoned them all in and they returned shortly. The group was angry. A general feeling of tension sat on their faces. When Bonzo started in on her she responded with a petty demeanor. Basically, she was a bitch. She prodded at him with great force. Very unprofessional. 

I returned to my hotel room as usual. It was dark and desolate. The only light–shining from the window–was the bright moon. It shone down with its fat, white back to me. I retired to the bed with a sigh. 

I returned to my paper, triumphant for today. 

-

I counted today’s stack. The promoter paid $2,000, which was to be split four equal ways after my cut. Ticket and album sales went to the accountant, who I happened to dislike. He was too excitable. The record company took care of flights and paying roadies. I had to arrange cars and drivers. I opened my suitcase and pulled out the secure envelope. It held all of my cash earnings from the last six months. 

This bloody tour was going on forever. Tensions were high, always, but this one especially. Every moment was filled with emotion and drama, especially for the musicians. Richard and I, as well as the roadies, were not so much a part of this. The boys were like women in so many ways, how deeply they felt and how savagely they fought. I was almost surprised at Bonzo's aggression toward Jimmy's girl.

When the boys felt this way I always said, what's a little discomfort for all this money? But I was feeling it too. 

I was thinking of Gloria. I thought about her face, the openness of her features, and the beauty of her cheekbones. I could've cried, I could've called to God at that moment. Anything to feel her softness under my fingertips once again.

The person who gets to see my soft underbelly is Gloria. She is the love of my life, the woman who makes the sun rise and the moon rest. I believe she was an angel put on earth for me. She gave me my wonderful child, Warren. That was a debt I could never repay. 

Sometimes I filled her absence with the company of a strange woman. The familiar feeling of long-tipped nails on my skin became a welcome visitor nightly.

---

I was riddled with guilt. Every time I had to get in the car and leave for the airport I felt it. It settled into my skin on the plane ride. I was in tune with my own father-- walking his missteps in perfect time. Each time I had to say goodbye to Warren's little face and Gloria's wonderful embrace I could only think of everything I’d done when I was away from them. 

I would not be alone in this feeling. The guys all longed for their lost homes. We were all ill on the road, inflicted with homesickness. We all had done things we weren’t proud of. 

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