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activatebutterflyshield · 8 months ago

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Time to be long-winded about music again featuring the Four Winds albums by the Oh Hellos. I desperately hope this one will be shorter given how bloody long the thing about Coyote Stories ended up being so to somewhat ensure that this will be split up into four separate posts, one for each album. I’m going in chronological order of release. Come one, come all, but especially @writer-of-random-things, to see me put more effort into tumblr posts than my english essays.

Part 1: Notos (you are here!)

Part 2: Eurus

Part 3: Boreas

Part 4: Zephyrus

Before even getting into the songs, let’s look at the album art. A cicada, the hallmark of summer, buzzing in chorus for a few days before dying. They are a horde, second only to their cousins the bees, wasps, and locusts, but a horde nonetheless. The cicada blindly sits underground for most of its life, growing in solitude and waiting for its cue to escape to the sunlit world, mate, and die. A cicada does not question it’s place in the universe. A cicada harbors no thoughts of doubt in its mission, and holds no grudge when it dies under the sky. But humans are not cicadas.

The first song of the album is “On the Mountain Tall”, a relatively quiet start. It’s very biblical in its symbolism and imagery, but perhaps the most important lines are when the singer calls out, “Still the wild wind blows / Up our of the grave of an angry ghost / Firing bricks from broken canon and prose / To build a wall so high it reaches the heavens in the sky”. The spelling of “canon” is not that of the instrument of warfare on the high seas, but that of generally accepted truth when it comes to creative works, as well as religions. But it is used to describe an action much more befitting the weapon, as the “wild wind” is “Firing bricks from broken canon and prose”, a metaphor for using hypocritical or untrue logic and facts to defend itself. Whomever the singer is singing to, they want the singer to fear them and love them in equal measure, but the singer doesn’t. This nebulous thing is described as being “Quiet as a candle and bright as the / morning sun”, not unlike some angelic thing from on high, and yet whoever they are, they are not “He”, who is “not within them, the clatter of / brass and drums”.

“Torches” soon follows, a quicker paced tune of a back-and-forth between two singers. Each alludes to the other, “Father Ignorance” and “Mother Fortuna”, matching up with the leading male and female vocals. Both figures are referred to by the others as making either “Brothers of us all” or “Sisters of us all” through their actions, though neither seem to be very virtuous people. “Father Ignorance” seems to feed people’s anger and fear, setting “our torch aflame” and burning someone at the stake, no matter their innocence. “Mother Fortuna” turns “shadows into shapes”, stoking paranoia and encouraging violence despite the fact that “the faces in her wake / Look more like our own than the / effigies we immolate”. Neither singer seems to be the one from “On the Mountain Tall”, as the previous song was about someone resisting the carrots and sticks offered by someone quite similar to both Ignorance and Fortuna. And yet these two beings still have power, as they sing together, “We keep that old wheel turning / Over and over, again”, maintaining the endless cycle of fear, paranoia, anger, and destruction.

The next song is an instrumental interlude, “Planetarium Stickers on a Bedroom Ceiling”. It’s a gentle tune that slowly builds into the next song, “Constellations”, but the name alone indicates that whatever stars exist far above are not real things, but rather facsimiles. Pretty things, sure, but nothing like the real, burning, blazing balls of gas that dot the night sky.

“Constellations” begins slowly, as the singer describes the sensation of speaking something that takes their voice away and feels upon their tongue like “Brick and mortar, thick as scripture / Drawing lines in the sand and laying / borders as tall as towers / I babble on until my voice is gone”. The clear and more cloudy references to the Tower of Babel and the Empire of Babylon show how the singer has been confounded and confused by that thick and choking scripture. Everything good in their life, everything good done by them and to them are “like constellations, a million years away”, no more real than those “Planetarium Stickers on a Bedroom Ceiling”. What few pieces of joy they have are no more real than the lines drawn to create “Constellations”. But by the end of the song, those good stars are “imploding in the night / Everything is turning, everything is turning / The shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light / Everything you thought you knew / Will fall apart, but you’ll be alright”. The singer has realized how much they have been smothered by thick scripture, how little they know about the world, how much they want to be free, and how they have been denied their freedom by the world they grew up with, by Father Ignorance and Mother Fortuna.

The titular “Notos” is next, starting with the singer describing the world in the moments before the clouds break and a storm crashes down. The world is holding its breath, waiting for “A thunderous disturbance”, the inevitable response to what the singer has done to those “Planetarium Stickers on a Bedroom Ceiling”. But whatever the world is expecting is not what happens, as the rush that comes “will take you away / Like you’re caught in the undertow / And you will drown in the wake / Of the things you lost to the winds of Notos”. Everything the singer has lost to the thick scripture, all that the spent in hopes that the “Constellations” of good intentions would become real, is now being repaid tenfold over. Their realization is as strong as a hurricane, as untamable as the sea, and more furious than a thunderstorm in this moment. They’re drowning Fortuna and Ignorance in “the wake / Of the things you said that you can’t take back”. It’s a beautifully poetic description of the pure, flaming anger felt by someone in the moment they realized their betrayal, but as the final line of the song says, “You gotta let go”.

The second instrumental interlude of the album is “Mandatory Evac / Counting Cars”. Finishing the wordless cry that began in “Notos”, the song is a slow, gradual build up from gentle guitar strums to the beautiful melody that has haunted the background of the rest of the album, a promising echo that reminds the listener that they’ve come quite far since the beginning of this 20-minute journey, and that they’ve still got plenty of road left to travel.

The final song of Notos is “New River”. The singer’s tune is one of gradual change, of how “though the eons may pass as slow as the sands of an hour glass / Every grain that we’ve counted / Claims that even the mountains can change”. This promise that even the most permanent parts of the landscape can slowly but surely change, that the very land itself can bend to the power of a “New River”, is a powerful metaphor for the prospective journey of the singer. They yearn to carve out a new path, to rise with the tide and bask in the “rain for forty days and nights”, to embrace the change so abhorred by the “Planetarium Stickers on a Bedroom Ceiling”, to erode away where they had once stood “On the Mountain Tall”, to extinguish the “Torches” and prove the “Constellations” to be naught but lines drawn in the sky. Within this wind of “Notos” will they rise and remake themselves anew, casting off the thick scripture and ignoring the roaring fire and wind. The fiery Southern Wind of Summer has risen and raged, tearing apart the walls of “broken canon and prose”, and as stormy Notos leaves, Eurus of Autumn and the Eastern Wind will blow in from the horizon where the sun rises, bringing cooler times and heralding yet more change as migrations begin and more questions are asked.

#the oh hellos #notos #me running my mouth #media analysis #lyric analysis #song analysis #so uh the inspiration has me in a chokehold again #and this thing ended up being so much longer than i thought it would #and theres three more to go…#and i kinda have to do through the deep dark valley and dear wormwood properly too #goshdarnit brain why are you like this #expect the one about eurus either tomorrow or several weeks from now #i have to see how long the inspiration lasts #wait i should make a tag for this thing #being long winded about the four winds #<- tag for this nonsense

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jetblackknight · 7 months ago

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𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

True to canon, or at least most fan sources, Vergil only eats red orbs. He thinks they taste like sour cherry heads, as he has tried those before. Sometimes he will indulge in human food, but he finds more pleasure in watching those close to him eat dishes he makes instead. It is fulfilling to him. ( functionally, he suffers from something similar to ARFID, if you need a reference to how he is with food ).

A quick list of his "safe" foods include: Saltines ( or any flavorless cracker ), any tea with no milk and very little sugar ( half a cube ), plain vanilla or chocolate ice cream ( hard, not soft ), plain breads, sugared donuts, and other things of that nature. He does have a penchant for sweets, much like his twin brother.

With the Vergil DLC now also canon, Vergil can summon V at will, for the times he doesn't want to be bothered; V acts of his own volition, but can relay anything needed to Vergil. He, essentially, acts as Vergil's eyes and ears when he is not strictly "around". ( This can and will be altered if there are V blogs who wish to interact with my iteration of Vergil ! )

Though he was not there as a father for Nero, Vergil surely acts like one in the most ridiculous ways. He can and will fall asleep anywhere he can sit to rest, and will gladly remind you at any time that demons do not need to slumber ( a lie, as evident by the fact that Vergil is almost always tired ), and he was not doing such, and you are a fool to believe that he was. He has not yet mastered the art of making puns, however, even with his obsession with poetry and rhymes.

He loves Kyrie as a daughter-in-law, and finds her the most difficult to dislike out of all of the people he now knows. He regards her as a sort of maiden-figure, and is thankful that she and her family were there for Nero when he was very much not.

In contrast, Vergil avoids Trish like the plague, and the reason should be quite obvious. Perhaps, through a story line ( or multiple, of course ! ) this will change, but as it stands, he cannot meet her eyes, and cannot separate her from his own mother.

Vergil is semi-proficient in Italian. I am not, so I run most of my Italian through DeepL translator ( and I apologize for any semantics mistakes ! ). He picked up the language in Fortuna during the events of Devil May Cry 4's Vergil campaign, which is all the way back before Devil May Cry 3. Vergil was around 18-19 during that time. ( That is also around the time he got an unnamed woman pregnant, which bore his son, and main character of Devil May Cry 4, Nero )

Vergil lost privileges to the Yamato after returning to the Human World an unknown time after the events of Devil May Cry 5, per Dante's insistence. He doesn't yet trust his twin brother, and thus he has to use other means to battle. Certain story lines or verses can return it into his hands—or, if the story line permits, during it ( with NPC!Dante's explicit permission, of course. So feel free to have your character remind Vergil about that little detail, hehe ! )

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚜

𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 ⸻ Vergil's first impressions on seeing him are that he is tall. Being half-demon has its perks; he stands at a towering 6'8", which is only a couple of inches off from his game model's height ( somewhere between 6'4" and 6'6" depending on how you measure ). He carries himself like a sentinel; never slouches, always stands with his hands either at his side or behind his back, never crossing his arms unless irritated beyond belief. He can be stiff and awkward in his motions, too—after all, his body is brand new, at least for now. He is much more comfortable fighting than being at rest, as he has never known rest in the forty-something years he's been alive. Reminding him to relax is the best option, but he does not do it easily, and may require assistance if the person reminding him is sufficiently close enough to him.

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃 ⸻ Oh, scent. Quite a quick first impression. Vergil maintains a routine of cleanliness that may rival someone with germaphobia. He showers every night, but he only washes his hair every other day ( not that it matters—when you have regeneration, hair breakage is not something that comes easily ). He uses the full range of body products available: sugar scrub three times a week, bar soap every evening, body wash every other day. Though dry skin doesn't exist for Vergil, either ( regeneration, again ), he still performs the routine of body- and skincare, even if his brother often ridicules him for it. Think Patrick Bateman, minus the psychopathy. As such, he can smell like a myriad of scents, but above all is the permeating scent of frost and brimstone; a biting, husky scent that only Vergil could wear so elegantly. If he chooses to wear cologne, it is usually high-end, subtle, and multi-faceted. The closest to his scent would be his Official scent, from the Devil May Cry perfume collection... but I do not own it, and thus cannot describe what it smells like.

𝚃𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷 ⸻ Something that does and will not happen unless you are the closest of close, and sometimes, not even then. His outfit is made of many fabrics: velvet, silk, genuine leather, and mohair. There is a delicate balance of intricate sensations that surround Vergil's outfit, as odd as it appears. Metals, embroidery, both soft and hearty materials. He wears them with pride. If he chooses to wear something more casual, it is always a pair of straight-legged jeans and cotton. His skin is impeccably soft, but with age comes natural imperfections, like moles, pores, and scars. He has a smattering of the former all across his chest and back, and a little on his thighs. No chest or back hair, but soft, almost velet-like body hair on his arms, legs, and groin area. He keeps that tidy, but it can be a chore if he feels lazy. His face is similarly bare—he refuses to wear facial hair, because it makes him look unkempt ( and he couldn't grow one if he tried ). His hair is stiff, but can and will move with the fingers that touch it. He uses his energy to keep it slicked back eternally, no sight of gel or hairspray ( that's canon, by the way. Dante's EX Taunt in Special Edition makes him lose 5% DT power when he uses it... meaning that Vergil uses his infernal power to keep his hair slicked back ! )

𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 ⸻ With so much fabric, one could think that they could hear Vergil before they see him. Such is not the case—he is a silent as a whisper in the wind, unless he deigns it necessary to make noise ( and, depending on the person, he will ). His voice is nasal and high-pitched; to an outsider, he may sound sick, but he is not. When his voice is quiet, it is higher, but when he yells, it lowers considerably, and retains a raspy, almost exhausted tone. Even when he speaks, he tries to do so with that same upper-class elegance, favoring proper, flowery language that could be deemed ' antique ' by some, and ' old fart ' to others. He is equally as quiet in most situations, even that of more salacious nature—unless, of course, he is desired to be louder. And despite his many exertions that he is a man of few words, he can, and will, speak a lot if he is comfortable with the person he is in conversations with.

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴 ⸻ An... awkward sense, in reference to a person. Biting on his skin, one would taste simple lotion that has no scent, or perhaps sunscreen—like his son, he burns, never tans. One will never find him without something to keep his breath clean ( unlike his brother, who does not care for the health of his teeth ), and otherwise, the taste of cocoa or tea. In... other places, soap and the general taste of such an area that has been well-maintained. He is the type to wipe, even after a few drinks, so to speak. If one were to draw blood and taste it, it is bitter and fiery, as a demon's blood should taste. There would be a hint of that metallic, human taste, but only in its aftertaste. It may even be poisonous to humans—Vergil might never let a human close enough to do so. For other other places. He maintains an extreme cleanliness, and given his penchant for not eating, will never taste like that. Still an acquired taste, of course, but it will never taste unhygienic.

𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

I am a firm believer in Woman in Red supremacy. That woman climbed him like a tree. I jest, but only somewhat. Vergil did spend a night with her... many, in fact. While investigating Fortuna during the events of Devil May Cry 4's Vergil campaign, he begrudgingly agreed to lodging with the only person brave enough to greet him directly. As such, one thing led to another—even eighteen year olds have needs, especially ones so repressed of their own humanity. It is one of the only memories of Vergil's youth he ever looks back fondly on.

Vergil does not know what became of the Woman in Red, and has not and never will ask Nero, or even Kyrie, what happened to her. He did, once, walk the streets of Fortuna and check where she used to live—and was distraught to find that the home he once spent frigid nights in was destroyed in the Savior Incident. When he found out, he did not seek her out any further. His demonic thoughts taunt him with the idea that she perished, and that Vergil would find her ( decaying, half-eaten ) corpse in the rubble.

Vergil does not take to new relationships easily, and can be a very distant and seemingly uncaring lover. This is, of course, a thin veneer of coldness to mask the fact that he is a deeply loving person. He does, canonically, have some of the worst "mommy issues" on the planet, and that shows whenever he loves someone. He will hide his true feelings until he is wholly unable to, and when reciprocated, will shy away unless pushed beyond his discomfort.

However, when truly in love with someone he feels safe with, he will love them in ways that nobody else will ever get to see but them. Romantic getaways, weekly date nights, simply existing in the same room with him, and most of all... touching them. Anywhere he can. Sitting down on the couch to watch a movie? Glued to his lovers' side, tickling their thigh with a pinkie, and perhaps more. In bed? He is an avid chest-sleeper, but does his best not to crush those underneath of him. Showering together, open-door bathroom policy ( he will shave while they use it, he does not care ), the like. It can be overbearing at first, but if his lover truly understands his circumstances, then it should not be too much of a problem.

Despite all of that, he is not "clingy" in the traditional sense. He will be protective, but he will not pester at all hours of the day and night, and given that Devil May Cry's universe does not actually contain smartphones ( think about it; you never see any of the human NPCs carrying one. They all use point-and-shoot cameras in the cutscenes they are in ), there is no worry of constantly texting. He will not call often, either, but does and will show up as soon as he is allowed. Punctuality is one of his virtues.

𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

Vergil enjoys voyeurism, a leftover from his time with Mundus, when all those in the demon kingdom would watch over him in his insanity and Mundus' depravity. Now that he views his nightmares through an outsider's lens, with no real traumatic connection to them, he doesn't mind this, and believes there is something freeing about having sex he consents to, whenever, and wherever… even if the places are less than legal.

Despite the above item, Vergil is extremely touch-averse. He only allows those closest to him to touch him directly. Through clothing is tolerable—the more layers, the better—but bare skin to bare skin is almost unbearable. Not because he dislikes it, but because it fills him with such a sensation of joy that he fears he might look "weak" trying to ask for more.

Vergil is much more interested in giving pleasure than receiving it, and as such, has a low-grade edging kink. He enjoys prolonging his pleasure until the last possible moment, as he believes that it causes a much more intense and fulfilling orgasm...

... Which is why he also does not have sex often, nor does he masturbate often. But when he does, do not expect to be done after a single, measly round. After all, Vergil does not lose. To those worthy enough to find their way into his humble single bed, or perhaps into theirs, he will not stop until there is a clear and stern decision to stop.

[ more to come when I think of them, and / or when they are revealed through story lines on the blog, of which will be labeled as such... this post entry is very much a placeholder so that it will always be there, right at the beginning of my blog. ]

#▪──── ⚔ ❝ an ILLUSION created by an extraordinary FRUIT ❞ 「 headcanons 」

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mayberaspberrywrites · 2 years ago

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"All I Want For Christmas Is..." Diluc x Female Reader | Chapter 1

Hi, all! I'm so sorry for not updating for 2 months. I completely forgot about this story, and well, it's a little late for Christmas now, isn't it?

Might as well keep writing until next Christmas at this point LMAO

Anyways, enjoy this short chapter + chapter 2 which I will release soon! (I swear I'm working on it)

Prologue

---

CHAPTER 1: I think you have the wrong number.

You stepped out of the shower and dried off. You huffed a sigh. ‘I could’ve stayed in there for another hour, really. Alas, work needs to be done.’ You completed your nightly routine before plopping down into your desk chair. Just as you turned on your computer, you received a text message.

Anonymous: Hello?

You: Who are you?

Anonymous: I don’t believe that’s relevant right now. If I may ask, could you answer a few questions for a…survey of sorts?

‘That’s not suspicious at all…’ You hesitated to type your next words, considering blocking this person.

You: I don’t know who you are. Please delete this number.

Anonymous: I’ll give you 300 primogems for every question you answer.

Now that was really suspicious. How did they know you played Genshin Impact?

You: How do I know you’re not lying to me right now?

Anonymous: Check your game, I’ve sent you a gift.

Well, let’s just check. You booted up the game on your computer and opened your mailbox as soon as you entered. Sure enough, you’d been sent 300 primogems. Your eyes widened as you checked to make sure you hadn’t been hacked. In the midst of your panic, you hadn’t noticed that Albedo had not only been swapped into your team, but he was also looking straight at you. You breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary…well, other than the mysterious appearance of these primogems. You picked your phone up again, texting the number back.

You: Alright. I’ll play your little game.

Anonymous: Good choice.

Albedo smirked to himself before typing out a message, looking up as it pinged to your device.

Anonymous: Question one: How long have you been playing Genshin Impact?

…

Anonymous: Question two: How do you obtain these characters?

…

Anonymous: Question five: What is “pity”?

Anonymous: Question six…

Question seven…

Question eight…

—

You answered all of the questions, albeit strange, to the best of your abilities. After all, primogems were on the line. You’d ended up answering a total of 25 questions for 7,500 primogems total. This person stayed true to their promise, sending you your gems immediately after each question.

Anonymous: Hm…Interesting. Thank you for your time. Please check your mailbox once more.

You eagerly opened your mailbox, noticing a letter titled “Gift”. You clicked on it, gasping as it displayed Albedo’s splash art, flashing before turning into stellar fortuna. Albedo’s dynamic TCG card was also found in the gift.

You: Just who are you?

Anonymous: I suppose I can disclose this information to you.

Albedo: I am Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius.

You: What the hell? Just who do you take me for, a fool?

Albedo: It’s up to you to believe me. In the meantime…may I ask that you stay in contact?

You placed your phone down on the desk. This person really thinks I’m dumb. A fictional character talking to me? You sat back in your chair. Though…I could really use the primogems. It’s a really good deal… You made up your mind, picking up your phone again before typing out your message.

You: Fine, I’ll stay in contact as long as you keep up your end of the deal.

Albedo: Thank you for your cooperation. I have to go now, I will be contacting you in a few days with more questions.

You: As long as primogems are involved…

You placed your phone down once more, taking the time to process what the hell just happened. Were you dreaming? Were you awake? This was all too surreal. You took a deep breath, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up.

*DING!*

You hesitantly opened your eyes, squinting at your phone that just lit up.

“What could this guy want now?” You grumbled to yourself, slowly raising your phone up to your face to read the text.

Albedo: There’s one more thing.

You: What?

Albedo is typing…

*DING!*

Albedo: Please say hello to Junia and Aspen for me.

—

“Mr Albedo! You shouldn’t mess around like that!” Sucrose frantically exclaimed, reading Albedo’s messages over his shoulder. “Relax, Sucrose. I just thought it’d be funny to keep her on her toes.” A ghost of a smile flitted across his otherwise stoic face, an action that did not go unnoticed by his ever-attentive green haired assistant. “And-and what if she blocks you? Our experiment would’ve been for naught!” She stared wide-eyed at the screen as Albedo began walking throughout the lab, scribbling words unintelligible to any but oneself out of pure unadulterated excitement that not even he knew his body was capable of possessing. Was this the power of her majesty, capable of even bringing out unusual and most likely human emotions of non-human entities such as himself, without even being physically present? He was eager to find out. Now that the barrier between Teyvat and Earth has finally been broken, he can do so much more…

“ALBEDO!”

Albedo stopped writing immediately, swiftly turning his head towards the animal-eared girl. “Yes, Sucrose?” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I-I’ve been calling your name for a few minutes now…you were so distracted that you never answered my question.” Albedo blinked, looking back down at his clipboard. He looked back up, clearing his throat. Perhaps he’d gotten a little carried away. “...What was your question again?” He asked, now giving her his full attention. “What if she blocks you?” Albedo smiled slyly, an expression Sucrose never thought she’d see on his face. “She won’t. Not for the reward I’m providing her with.” He paused. “...None of them would.” Confusion reflected through amber-tinted eyes. “Mr. Albedo, who’s they?”

“Don’t worry about it, Sucrose. It’s not important. For now, I need you to gather everyone as soon as possible. We don’t have much time to work with, based on her majesty’s schedule.”

#diluc x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x fem!reader #diluc fluff #genshin impact #genshin diluc #dilucragnvindr #sucrose genshin impact #albedo genshin impact

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usafphantom2 · 1 year ago

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Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby at the National Museum of the United States Air Force in 2005

The story of the Shoo Shoo Baby begins like many other B-17s, at Boeing Plant No.2 in Seattle, Washington, where it was built as construction number 7190. Accepted into the US Army Air Force as serial 42-32076 on January 17, 1944, it was subsequently fitted with all necessary armaments and other combat-related equipment at the Continental Airlines Modification Center #13 at Stapleton International Airport (currently Denver International Airport), and the United Air Lines Modification Center #10 at Cheyenne Municipal Airport (currently Cheyenne Regional Airport). After being processed at Grand Island Army Airfield, Nebraska, its last stop in the US before going to England was Presque Isle Army Airfield, Maine. Arriving at RAF Burtonwood, Lancashire on March 2, it would ultimately be assigned to the 401st Bomb Squadron of the 91st Bomb Group, 8th Air Force at RAF Bassingbourn on March 23. The aircraft’s allotted code was LL*E, and the crew named the aircraft Shoo Shoo Baby, after a popular song by the Andrews Sisters that was the favorite of crew chief T/Sgt Hank Cordes and his wife back home. The nose art, inspired by Alberto Vargas’ Hawaii pin up girl for Esquire, was applied by line mechanic Cpl. Tony Starcer, one of four nose artists in the 91st. Just one day after arriving, Shoo Shoo Baby flew on the first of what turned out to be 23 missions during its operational life with the 91st. Unlike other B-17s in the group, 42-32076 did not have a permanently-assigned crew, but Lt. Paul G. McDuffie, who ferried the aircraft from Burtonwood to Bassingbourn, would fly the ship on several occasions.

The nose art of B-17G serial 42-32076 “Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby” (coded LL-E) of the 401st Bomb Squadron, 91st Bomb Group. Handwritten caption on reverse: ’29/5/44.’ Photo credit: American Air Museum in Britain

One of the most interesting anecdotes in the Shoo Shoo Baby’s history was when her crew flew her on a one-ship mission for the 91st Bomb Group. On April 9, 1944, the 91st flew up to bomb the port city of Gdynia in occupied Poland. However, the mission was soon called off, but the crew of the Shoo Shoo Baby, under the command of Lt. McDuffie, could not be reached due to a faulty radio. They climbed through heavy clouds to 30,000 feet, encountering a formation of B-24s. Realizing it was clearly the wrong group, they searched but found no sign of the 91st, though they found another formation of B-17s. They followed the formation to a Focke Wulf plant in Marienburg (now Malbork), Poland. They dropped their bombs when the others did, and followed them back to England, then diverted to return to Bassingbourn, where all four engines quit on the runway due to fuel exhaustion. Despite expecting to be chewed-out, they were instead congratulated for having single-handedly given the 91st Bomb Group a victory. When McDuffie completed his tour of duty and was rotated out, an extra “Shoo” was added to the aircraft on May 25. Just four days later, Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby would fly her last mission with the 401st.

Shoo Shoo Baby is on the left in this photo.

Mission #23 was to be another long one. The 401st was to bomb a Focke-Wulf aircraft component factory in Poznań, Poland. On route to the target, while crossing the German border, the No.3 engine lost oil pressure and quit. The pilot in command, 2nd Lt. Robert Guenther, tried to feather the propeller on this engine, but it would not rotate. Instead, the No.3 propeller continued to windmill, and Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby began to lag behind the formation, but stayed on course. Releasing its deadly payload over Poznań, pilots Guenther and 2nd Lt. George Havrisik turned westward. What surprised them most, however, was that the German fighters that responded to the American bombers were focused on the distant formations, but no attention was paid to them despite the fact that they were straggling outside the formation. Though fortunate for the crew aboard Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby, it was uncharacteristic of German fighters that actively looked out for stragglers to make easier kills.

But before they even reached the Baltic coast, the No.2 engine also failed. Realizing they could not return to England, Guenther asked the navigator, 2nd Lt. John M. Lowdermilk, to plot a course for Sweden. The crew knew what this meant: internment by Swedish officials and the confiscation of the aircraft, but it was much more preferable to be interned in Sweden than become prisoners of war in Germany. All loose equipment was ordered to be thrown overboard to lighten the aircraft, including guns and ammo, radio equipment, and spare clothing not in use. The crew even attempted, after ball turret gunner S/Sgt. Nick Premenki exited the turret, to jettison the turret altogether, as was standard procedure in the event of a wheels-up landing, but the turret would not budge. Lowdermilk plotted a course for a coastal town on the southernmost tip of Sweden, Ystad. As they reached the Swedish coast, however, the crew of the Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby encountered flak fired on them from anti-aircraft batteries. It was clear to the crew that the Swedes were trying to warn them not to do anything foolish. Just before reaching land, a third engine went out. It was at this point when a Seversky J 9, an export version of the prewar P-35 design, flew up and escorted the stricken bomber to Malmö, about 58 kilometers northwest of Ystad. There, a B-24 Liberator had just landed ahead of them, and Guenther and Havrisik had to swing the Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby wide to avoid the Liberator on landing.

Upon landing, the crew and the plane were interned by the Swedish government. The Swedes treated Allied pilots fairly, but they were still far from home, and it was the intention of the US State Department to bring home the American airmen. Handling the negotiations in Sweden was American air attaché, Colonel Felix M. Hardison, who had been stationed in Stockholm since February 1944. Hardison had previously served as a B-17 pilot with the 19th Bomb Group of the 5th Air Force, stationed in the South Pacific, flying the famed B-17E 41-2489, known as Suzy-Q, which had returned to the US after extensive combat in the early phases of the Pacific War. Hardison finally struck a deal with the Swedes. In exchange for 300 American airmen being returned to the United States on the guarantee that the airmen would be prohibited from further combat, the nine B-17s were transferred to the Swedish government on July 10. 1945. Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby was among the nine B-17s, and this would turn out to be a boon for the airlines in Sweden.

Before the war, they had been interested in acquiring Douglas DC-4 airliners, but when war broke out, the orders dried up as the DC-4 was adapted by the USAAF as the C-54 Skymaster. In addition to this, the Swedes had been flying airliners throughout Europe, usually filled with diplomats trying to negotiate during the war. Though the war was not over, by late 1944, it was clear that sooner or later, the Allies would win, and Sweden would still need long-range airliners for the immediate postwar years for routes that the venerable DC-3 simply didn’t have the range to achieve. And so, after the American airmen were sent on their way home in October 1944, the Swedish government ordered Svenska Aeroplan AktieBolag (Swedish Aeroplane Company Limited (SAAB)), to convert seven of the bombers into airliners while the remaining two examples would be cannibalized for spare parts. All military equipment was removed, the nose section was lengthened by three feet, and interior settings in the former waist gunners and radio operator compartments would provide the aircraft with the ability to carry 14 passengers. In addition to this, the bomb bay was converted to carry cargo, with the left hand bay door sealed shut and reinforced to be part of the floor, while the right hand door would still open so that a lift could be lowered from the bomb bay to bring cargo and luggage up into the compartment. They were also referred to as “Felixes” in honor of the American air attaché.

Registered on the Swedish civil registry as SE-BAP for flight testing with Swedish Intercontinental Airlines (Svensk Interkontinental Lufttrafik AB, SILA), which operated through the publicly-backed AB Aerotransport, Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby flew again on November 2, 1945, and was soon sold to Danish Air Lines (Det Danske Luftfartselskab, DDL) and registered as OY-DFA, and was given a new name; Stig (Wanderer) Viking. DDL received another converted B-17G that had landed in Sweden during the war, USAAF serial 42-107067, registered as OY-DFE, which was named Trym (a figure from Norse mythology) Viking. As an airliner, Stig Viking would travel the world, starting out with a Copenhagen-England route, but eventually flying as far as Khartoum, Sudan, Nairobi, Kenya, and Johannesburg, South Africa. With the introduction of the long-awaited DC-4 to the international market, the Swedish-operated Felixes were soon retired, and they were scrapped.

They were not without incident, however, as on November 28, 1945, when Stig Viking was on approach to Blackbushe Airport in Yateley, Hampshire, the left landing gear failed to extend, so the pilot made an emergency landing that resulted in no injuries to any occupants, and the aircraft was soon repaired and returned to service. However, Danish Air Lines’ other B-17 “Felix” was not so lucky. Trym Viking was written off on January 30, 1946, when it overshot the runway on arrival from England to Copenhagen Airport and collided with a parked RAF Douglas Dakota III, serial number KG427. Though no one was seriously hurt, both aircraft were beyond economic repair and were eventually scrapped. Meanwhile, Stig Viking, the former Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby, continued in service with DDL until March 31, 1948, when it was assigned to the Danish Army Air Corps. There, it was assigned the serial 67-672, and would carry yet another name, “Store Bjørn” (Great Bear). During its military use in Denmark, it was converted into an aerial survey aircraft for use in Greenland, with the addition of cameras, mapping radar, and a 1,400-liter fuel tank in the bomb bay. On December 1, 1949, it was transferred to the Royal Danish Navy but continued its work in Greenland, and when the Danish Army Air Corps and Naval Air Service were merged to become the Danish Air Force, Store Bjørn continued its survey work in Greenland, often working alongside US Air Force survey aircraft. It would continue its work in Greenland until October 1, 1953, when it was retired from flight duty and placed in storage.

67-672 in Greenland

On February 6, 1955, it was purchased by the Babb Company Inc. of New York, an aircraft brokerage firm. It did not return to the U.S. at that point, however, as the firm sold the old bomber off to the Institut Geographique National in France for continued use as a survey plane, this time over France and her overseas territories and colonies. Registered as F-BGSH, the bomber previously known as Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby would continue to fly for the IGN, being based out of Creil Airport near Paris, along with other B-17s modified for such purposes. One such aircraft was the B-17G 44-85718 (registered as F-BEEC), which later flew for the Lone Star Flight Museum as Thunderbird, and is now undergoing maintenance at the Erickson Aircraft Collection in Madras, Oregon on behalf of the Mid America Flight Museum in Mount Pleasant, Texas. Another aircraft flown with the former Shoo Shoo Shoo baby at this time was the B-17G 44-8846, which later flew in the movie Memphis Belle (1990) and is displayed at La Ferte Alais, France as The Pink Lady. F-BGSH surveyed the Middle East, Africa, and South America before being retired from flying for IGN on June 15, 1961. Its engines and other parts were removed, and it was kept on a corner of Creil, receiving damage to its nose section from an accident at one point, but otherwise quietly sitting on display at Creil. Were it not for a chance discovery, Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby was likely destined for the scrapyard.

Shoo Shoo Baby as F-BGSH at Creil

This rediscovery of Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby’s combat record was made by Australian aviation historian Steve Birdsell, who had by this point recently left Vietnam after serving as a war correspondent. He tracked down the service record of 42-32076 and brought the attention of its existence to the 91st Bomb Group Memorial Association and the National Museum of the United States Air Force in Dayton, Ohio. The museum already had a B-17 in its ranks, B-17G 44-83624, but this one had never seen combat, being accepted into the USAAF on April 26, 1945, and serving in the postwar years as a missile launcher (MB-17G) and a drone director (DB-17G) before being donated to the museum in 1957. Needless to say, the chance to snag a combat-veteran B-17 was too good to pass up. The museum appealed to the US and French governments, and on April 22, 1971, the Shoo Shoo Baby was transferred to the NMUSAF. But that was the easy part. There was still the problem of shipping it back to America. This was achieved by dismantling the old aircraft at Creil and trucking it in pieces to Rhein-Main Air Force Base near Frankfurt, West Germany, where it was loaded aboard a Lockheed C-5A Galaxy and flown to Wright-Patterson AFB on June 17, 1972 to be restored by volunteers on the base.

Arrival at Dover AFB

The years had not been kind to Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby. The museum, having only moved to its present-day location from the Patterson Field portion of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base just two years prior and with other aircraft in need of restoration, chose to store Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby for another six years. It was then that the 512th Military Airlift Wing at Dover AFB, Delaware agreed to take on the project in 1978. But rather than simply restoring it to static display condition, Shoo Shoo Baby would be restored to fully-flyable condition. The work lasted 10 years, and although the aircraft served in combat in bare aluminum, the sheer amount of work to bring the old Baby back to its wartime configuration would mean that leaving it in bare aluminum would show differences between the old panels of aluminum and the new. This combined with the need for long-term corrosion protection led to the decision, rather than apply a silver lacquer to the aircraft, to apply an olive-drab and neutral gray camouflage that was modeled off a unique variation developed for B-17s manufactured at Boeing plants in Seattle where the olive drab looped around the engine cowlings. The change to olive drab also resulted in the bomb row turning white rather than being a different color after every fifth bomb, the aircraft identification codes turning yellow from black, and where the original block numbers on the nose were all on olive-drab against the natural metal finish, a small portion incorporating the aircraft’s serial and subvariant distinction was left unpainted. In 1981, all completed portions of the aircraft were painted, and since the nose section was among the completed portions, Tony Starcer was called out of retirement to recreate his nose art for the aircraft back in 1944. Unfortunately, Starcer would not live to see the aircraft completed, passing away in 1986, but his recreation of the nose art remains today.

On September 10, 1988, Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby rolled out of the restoration hangar at Dover Air Force Base to a public ceremony celebrating the completion of her restoration. She would return to Dayton, but this time she would fly under her own wings. After several shakedown flights, flying as a US government aircraft with her wartime serial number standing in for an N-number, Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby arrived at Dayton on October 12 for a final ceremony on October 15 with an escort of two P-51 Mustangs, with the landing at 11:00 being accompanied by two Beechcraft T-34 Mentors. Once the public ceremonies were over, Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby was brought into the museum’s hangars, while the museum’s previous B-17G, 44-83624, would go on to be displayed at the Air Mobility Command Museum at Dover AFB under the name “Sleepy Time Gal”. This is the point, until recent years, where the story ended, but as it so happens, it seems the Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby has somewhat of a restless spirit if one were to be poetic.

In 2005, after over 50 years of being on display in the city of Memphis, Tennessee, the B-17F 41-24485 known to history as the Memphis Belle was brought to Dayton for restoration and eventual display. Two years later, in 2007, the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum’s collections committee voted to transfer the oldest existent B-17, B-17D 40-3097 “The Swoose” to the National Museum of the USAF as well, and The Swoose would arrive the following year in 2008. The latter trade resulted in a deal between the National Museum of the USAF and the National Air and Space Museum that would see the Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby transferred to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum upon completion of either the Memphis Belle or The Swoose. In May 2018, the Belle was completed, and yet another ceremony followed, where a changing of the guard if it were commenced by placing the Memphis Belle and the Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby face to face before the former took the latter’s place and the latter was sent to the storage hangars to be disassembled for the journey to the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center at Dulles International Airport, Chantilly, Virginia. As of this article, the engines and some other components have already arrived at Udvar-Hazy, while the rest of the aircraft, especially the wings and fuselage remain, for the time being, at Dayton. The reason for this delay has been because of the ongoing renovations at the National Mall, which should take another two years to complete.

Memphis Belle nose to nose with Shoo Shoo Shoo Baby. (photo by Ken LaRock for USAF)

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kyratittyfish · 2 years ago

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I posted 316 times in 2022

That's 316 more posts than 2021!

54 posts created (17%)

262 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@painterofhorizons

@commander-krios

@miniature-space-hamster

@comeoniwantacoolname

@hunnybadgerv

I tagged 225 of my posts in 2022

Only 29% of my posts had no tags

#mass effect - 97 posts

#jeff joker moreau - 73 posts

#commander shepard - 31 posts

#my writing - 28 posts

#shoker - 27 posts

#holy shit this art is good - 25 posts

#mass effect fanfic - 22 posts

#this looks amazing - 18 posts

#fic recommendation - 17 posts

#between the end and the beginning - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 102 characters

#jumped off an office chair and my knee had a very short and passionate meeting with the table’s corner

My Top Posts in 2022:

Between the End and the Beginning - WIP snippet

slowly but steadily, this fic is coming along! Writing this is probably the only thing keeping me sane as I study for the last exam of my university career :D Here's a snippet from the 'Aftermath' chapter. Hope you like it!

It was a comforting sensation, the warmth of the blankets and the sight of the stars, and he embraced it, along with the sweet -if brief- thoughtlessness that came with it.

Outside the reinforced glass, millions of shimmering dots speckled the absolute blackness, their faint lights nowhere near enough to break through the dark emptiness of the cosmos. And so many light-years between each of them. Here among the stars, it was easy to feel lost and insignificant, a fading particle of dust against the endless expanse of time and space. All his life so far, and all the life he had yet to live, mattered next to nothing to the vastness of the universe. And why would it? His mere decades were less than droplets in an endless ocean compared to the eons and eons of a star’s lifetime.

Once, this thought would have scared the crap out of him. Tonight, however, Jeff found it oddly reassuring. The stars didn’t care about his struggles. They’d seen much worse and they were still there, eternal and unmovable.

He wished he had one ounce of their stoic indifference.

But no. Life rolled a 1 on mindfulness and gave me crippling anxiety instead.

He slid down the bed, turning on his right side to face the window, and readjusted the pillows and blankets until he was swaddled in them like a soft cocoon and the soothing heat almost reached his heart.

A few constellations seemed familiar - Is this Decoris? Nah, the relay’s on the wrong side - and he slipped a hand out of his bedspread wrapping to trace the pattern of stars on the cold glass.

If this is Farinata, that means we jumped from the Charon relay straight to Antaeus and we’re now in the Hades Gamma cluster. It made sense - the sector was crossed by the Anansi-Ishtar trading route, and its heavy mercantile traffic made it the ideal place for ships wishing to cover their traces. Even assuming his conclusions were right, though, the new information gave him no insight into where the Cerberus cruiser was taking him. It was still a pastime good as any to keep his mind occupied, at least.

He followed a few more paths, running the tip of his index finger on the smooth surface of the window to connect planets, stars, moons and relays.

Fortuna. Nephron. Enoch. Hydra.

With every line, every dot, his eyelids became heavier and recalling systems harder.

Micah. Illium. Omega.

He was already asleep before he could name Alchera.

11 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

Can I prompt a little fic maybe, Shepard having a nightmare or flashback and being comforted by Joker? :D

Sure, prompts are always welcome! Anyway, this "little fic" turned into a 4.4k words story, hope you like it!here

Read it on Ao3

Read it on ff.net

Burns like a forest fire

The undergrowth was soft and damp under Shepard’s bare feet. The air was crisp and felt pleasantly chilly on her cheeks, and a gentle breeze carried around the scent of pines and dew-splashed grass.

She put one hand forward and let the sunlight paint a play of lights on her skin, casting shadows of the thousand branches, leaves, and bird nests separating her from the light blue sky above, shielding her from the galaxy and all her fights and obligations.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed: the quiet was so deep and serene, it saturated the atmosphere, soaked through her skin and bones and muscles. It reached the depths of her own soul and made her forget everything that wasn’t this, and now. Come to think of it… how did she end up there?

I suppose it doesn’t matter all too much; she muttered to herself. I’d better enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.

She could hear the gurgling sound of water flowing in the distance- a stream, perhaps? Or maybe a small waterfall? Curious, she decided to investigate: was there a more perfect place than a forest creek to sit down in the shade and enjoy the nice weather? The murmur seemed to come from her left, so that’s where she headed.

She walked for a few minutes, or maybe longer- she had no way to tell without her omnitool. Did I forget to wear it when I got out of bed this morning? This wasn’t like her but then again, she’d been under an immense amount of pressure lately and she was still human after all.

Step by step, as she got closer to its source, the noise grew louder masking the chirping above and the buzzing of insects below her…

Until it suddenly stopped.

Even the bird had ceased singing, and the wind blew through the fronds without making a sound.

What is happening?

Did she go deaf all of a sudden? Maybe her cybernetics were malfunctioning- I should ask Chakwas or Miranda to take a look at them.

She took a step forward, and the crunching of dead leaves under her feet broke the silence.

This is strange.

At least her ears were still working.

A shiver ran down the back of her neck all the way to her fingertips, making the fine hair over her arms raise to attention. She looked up to study the thick curtain of clouds obscuring the sun, dark gray spots looming above her through the trees.

How is that possible? It was sunny up a few moments ago…

Something else felt off about her surroundings, and it wasn’t just the unnatural silence. Had the canopy of threes been that autumnal reddish-brown hue all along? She seemed to recall vibrant shades of green coloring the branches and flowers littering the verdant grass under her feet. Now a carpet of moss and fallen foliage gave way under her feet.

A few white specks started littering her vision, falling slowly to the ground from above, a few of them finding their resting place in her hair. Was that… snow?

I need to get away from here.

Shepard quickened her pace, despite having no idea of where she was going - she supposed moving in any direction at all was better than spending another minute in that unpredictable forest. She stumbled over a sharp rock and hissed in pain- why was she barefoot in the woods, anyway?

It wasn’t completely silent anymore, she realized. The pounding of her heartbeat and the creaking of the dead twigs snapping at each step almost covered the distant sound of…

Voices?

��Is somebody here? Can you hear me?”

Shepard was running now, but the whispers were all around her. They echoed beyond the leafless trees, reaching up to the sky above the bare branches that were waving towards the dark clouds like thousands of arms desperately begging for salvation.

Whoever they were, they were coming closer. And, she realized with horror, they were calling her name.

See the full post

14 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

Fics masterlist

You can find me on Ao3 as tittyFish (yeah, I know, my username is awesome), or on ff.net as StargazerKyra.

I hope you enjoy reading my fics as much as I loved writing them!

Space monkeys and space trees

One of Hackett's errands has Shepard climbing up a tree to go after a pyjack. set during ME1.

read on tumblr | Ao3 | ff.net

Of fish and fireplaces

In which Shepard is a terrible fish owner, EDI is a snitch, and Joker can't deal with compliments. Set during ME3.

read on tumblr | Ao3 | ff.net

Doctor's orders

Joker has a string of bad luck that lands him in the med bay. Luckily, Doctor Chakwas is there to take on her unofficial ship mom role. Set during ME3.

read on | Ao3 | ff.net

Burns like a forest fire

During the events of ME3, Shepard is plagued by nightmares. After a particularly horrific one, Joker tries to comfort her, but the Commander's walls are hard to tear down. Set during ME3.

read on tumblr | Ao3 | ff.net

Thunderstruck

A cabin in the woods, a warm couch, cuddles, a fluffy dog, and no Reapers in sight: Shepard and Joker’s post war happily ever after is looking as relaxing as ever. Until natural forces add to the mix, that is.

Read on tumblr | Ao3

…and a drink with two umbrellas

The last time Alexandra Shepard and Joker tried to have a fun, relaxing night out, they were almost killed by her evil clone. They deserve a proper dinner date to make up for that fiasco. Hopefully, this time it'll be a less eventful one. Written for the ShepardSummer2022 exchange.

Read on Ao3

Between the end and the beginning

It was supposed to be a simple patrol run, but life is never that simple. Death, unfortunately, often is. After Alchera, Joker knows it all too well. But sometimes, death is not the end and life gets a second chance. Follow Joker as he deals with the consequences of the Collectors attack on the Normandy SR1, and eventually finds a new beginning.

Chapter 1: Mayday. An unknown enemy takes down the SR1, and Commander Angela Shepard with it. Read on Ao3

Chapter 2: Choices. Dr Chakwas receives an unexpected visit, and an alarming phone call. Read on Ao3

Chapter 3: Aftermath. As they deal with the consequences of the previous night events, Chakwas makes Joker an offer he can't refuse. Read on Ao3

Chapter 4: Roots. After joining Cerberus, Joker spends some time with his family. Read on Ao3

Chapter 5: Steps. Frustration and doubts pile up as Joker goes through the intense medical treatment Cerberus has planned for him. Doctor Chakwas is determined to show him her support. Read on Ao3

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

15 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

Hello everyone!

I’ve been rather silent for the past month or so- to make a long story short, October started with a new job as a teacher, went on with a close encounter of the awful kind with Covid, and ended with me being accepted into a PhD program.

But I’m back, and with news: after months of work, I’m proud to announce I’m finally publishing my first multi-chapter fic ever, Between The End And The Beginning.

I posted snippets, I’ve raved about it… and now it’s finally here, so enjoy the read!

A special thanks to my muses @painterofhorizons and @commander-krios (who also did an amazing work as a beta reader), and to @spaced0lphin cause of course this fic will eventually evolve into pure Shoker, and the HatBoy mod has provided the best inspiration for it.

18 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This post is for anyone participating in the ShepardSummer2022 exchange.

Since the organizer hasn’t been able to keep up with the exchange, I’m taking over the gift reveal process.

Unfortunately, I don’t have access to the list of participants and matches- if you’re participating (either as a giftee/gifter or as a treat creator), please fill this form so that I can begin the gift reveal process as soon as possible.

Also, it’d greatly help if you could share this post so that it can reach as many exchange participants as possible!

Thank you!

https://forms.gle/Cn627NzgyRV7CWQ26

19 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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garland-on-thy-brow · 2 years ago

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Sejanus his Fall act 5

The plot of Macro to bring down Sejanus in act 5 is exciting. The orders brought before dawn to the one not-Sejanian consul (this is Regulus, a suffect, who was appointed just a few days earlier), the swift moves, the positioning of the guard outside the senate, Macro seeming drunk on the action he started.

Among the multiple omens that open the act, I like how one of Sejanus' clients describes the snake leaping up from the statue of Sejanus in Pompey's theatre: "I have not seen a more extended, grown,/ Foul, spotted, venomous, ugly -". Sejanus is not impressed unless the spirit of that serpent be Macro's.

Sejanus' behaviour in act 5 and the extent of his pride seem completely out of touch: he believes in his superiority even over his Fortuna. Later, Sejanus without question believes Macro's assurance that Tiberius is to give him the tribunician power, and starts doing one stupid thing after another. Jonson is making a point about pride before the fall, but his blunt, unnuanced, and therefore unrealistic way of doing so breaks the immersion for me. Sejanus whom we have known from the previous acts as smart, cunning, and powerful is made into such a simplified picture. I do not like it.

This said, it is cool how Sejanus started quoting Lucan's Caesar every few lines (especially because his victims, especially Sabinus, were Cato-coded).

Sejanus and Macro, described by Tiberius as "the two poisons", meet in person for the first time in the play. The vibes are as you would expect. Sejanus calls Macro "a coy wench torturing her lover".

Tiberius disappeared from stage in act 3 with no intention to come back. Disappearance, too, is art.

Of course, after all the bad omens (which Sejanus dismisses as superstition), Macro luring Sejanus into the Senate by the promise of the highest power is a direct parallel to Julius Caesar. Sejanus does not have a wife with prophetic dreams (he divorced Apicata a few years earlier), and his Fortuna, neglected, turned away.

The senate meets, fittingly, in the temple of Apollo. Tiberius' letter, written entirely by Jonson as the text is not in the sources, is a rollercoaster of convoluted and ominous syntax. As the reading goes on, it first infects the meeting with anxious uncertainty, then hits with the sudden conclusion. Sejanus is seized. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the story does not end here.

What follows is a vivid "tell not show" (much like the retelling of the battle of Pistoria in Catiline his Conspiracy): the drama that stepped out of the written narrations integrates itself back into them. There is translation of the Seianus Augustus part from Juvenal Sat. X (yes!), as the statues of Sejanus are being torn down. Then a realistic description of the dismemberment of Sejanus' body by the crowd. Haunting and hard to read, the murder of his children. The last events we hear of is Apicata's suicide (from her letter, Tiberius is going to learn that Sejanus poisoned his son back in act 2) and the rage of the multitude giving way to remorse ("And some whose hands yet reek with his warm blood,/ And gripe the part which they did tear of him,/ Wish him collected and created new").

#sejanus his fall #lucius aelius seianus #ben jonson

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independentartistbuzz · 2 years ago

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Global Pop Star Lexie Liu Releases Album “The Happy Star”

Chinese singer and songwriter Lexie Liu has released “The Happy Star,” her first full album in three years. In her new 12-track body of work, Lexie takes her iconic, lyrically grungy sound and pushes it to new levels as she takes a deep dive into the hyperpop genre. Throughout this album, Lexie incorporates multiple languages, from Chinese to English to Spanish, and experiments with different emotions and tempos to create something that is simultaneously elevated as much as it is eerie. “The Happy Star” is available now on all digital streaming platforms.

Listen in here: https://open.spotify.com/album/6TncHvvXh96HDGtWGrsNIV?si=lFhQzyvJS0e06N6rbAVehA&nd=1

Inspired by the twenty-two Major Arcana from Tarot, each track represents one card from the deck, exploring themes of fate, creation, and the universe’s inherent, cyclical dispositions. While conceiving this album, Lexie plunged into her own spiritual journey to develop something uniquely her own in its sounds and meanings. Through a mystical lens, she seeks the innate beauty and potential of human nature; tapping into musings on our ambition, love, temptation, acceptance, and everything in between.

With its modern techno sound and sitar melodies, ‘FORTUNA’ is a perfect first track. Leading with an 90’s vibe, headlining the production without overworking the music too early on in the track list, this song is about finding our fortunes and feeds into the listener’s curiosity; baiting them into figuring out what the rest of this album has to offer. Closely following the build up in ‘FORTUNA’ is ‘dance dance’, a moody confession about finally being able to dance, free from any external inhibitions and influences. The trance-like haze put forth in ‘dance dance’ cuts short as we’re transported into the electro punk beat ‘3.14159’. Lexie calls out people and their unsolicited opinions, stating that they’ve “got glitter but they ain’t real diamonds.” Her catty lyrics are matched with an energetic, confident tone to round out this air of rebellious freedom that will have you throwing your fists in the air.

‘GANMA’ brings out the haughty, unbothered side out. With an almost chant-like delivery, Lexie’s bass driven rap in the beginning shifts to a lilting realization that since she can’t fall asleep anyways, there’s no point in sticking to routine. One of the more complex compositions in the album, ‘MAGICIAN’ is all about creation and the power to change that which is predestined. ‘DIABLO’ shows us this more sinister side of Lexie’s artistic expression. There’s an art to free-falling, one that Lexie is a master of.

Track 7 marks a turning point having finished her dance with the devil and reveling in chaotic freedom, ‘MIRA’ serves as Lexie’s rediscovery of self. It gathers elements from diverse cultures lyrically, from ‘Tao Te Ching’, ‘The Heart Sutra’ to The Bible. The intense bass line reflects the internal conflict of aggression and passivity, but the classical Chinese instrumentals and her lyrical, whispering vocals towards the end serve as a placid, personal acknowledgement to the answers she’s discovered. Lexie seems to have found peace in ‘Gaia’, by far the most serene track in this album. As the only track on this album that doesn’t stray from a constant, this track is mellow pacing and serves as a nice reprieve from the constant ebb and flow of Lexie’s music. ‘BAD DREAM’ is pure, raw vulnerability. It strips away the high production soundscape packed into the beginning of this album and instead opts for a simpler, soft R&B ballad.

Continuing in this R&B direction, Lexie picks the energy back up with the groovy, afrobeat inspired track ‘RRR’. She’s still pursuing that fortuitous future, but this time Lexie doesn’t mind having someone come along with her. As we near the end of the album, Lexie surprises us with a delicate story of innocent love. In ‘i wanna tell u’, her soft vocals and dream-like melodies wrap around us like a comforting blanket. “The Happy Star” goes full circle in its final track ‘Shanti’, bringing back the techo-infused, retro sounds from the first half of this album and combining it with the softer, uplifting tone of the latter. ‘Shanti’ provides the much needed, final breath of closure in this 12-track journey of an album.

ABOUT LEXIE LIU

Lexie Liu is a Chinese singer and songwriter creating a new template for pop music stardom, with her tantalizing lyrics, awareness of youth and gen-z culture, and “her provocative sound [that] transcends language barriers,” (i-D Magazine). Thus far, she’s released multiple singles, 2 EPs, and has even been featured as Seraphine in the League of Legends pop sensation “K/DA”, joining the likes of Madison Beer, (G)-IDLE, Kim Petras, Twice, Jaira Burns, and more in this pantheon of artists-turned- champions. According to V Magazine, “Lexie Liu is poised to become the face of a generation of new Chinese artists breaking into the American mainstream with a uniquely cross-cultural sound.”

Connect with Lexie Liu: Instagram | YouTube | Spotify | Twitter | TikTok

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zariyen · 4 years ago

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✦ NAVIGATION ✦

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ー Slow at answering asks/DMs, please don’t worry if I don’t get to your message right away.

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CW TAGS

Please let me know if you need something tagged!

#blood

GENERAL TAGS

「✦」ー art

「✦」ー timelapse

「✦」ー merch

「✦」ー drawing memes

「✦」ー rkgk

・☾・

「✦」ー asks

「✦」ー shop announcements

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「✦」ー personal

「✦」ー conventions

「✦」ー cosplay

「✦」ー gifts

「✦」ー shitposts

OC TAGS

「✦」ー oc masterlist (TBA)

「✦」ー oc tag

・☾・

Yasuha Kuroe (黒江育羽) / Crowe (クロウ)

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Yuu Yumehara (夢原ユウ)

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Card Stories (TBA)

Envie Fortuna (エンビ・フォルトゥーナ)

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「✦」ー Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba | 鬼滅の刃

「✦」ー Haikyuu!! | ハイキュー!!

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「✦」ー Ensemble Stars!! | あんさんぶるスターズ！！(TBA)

「✦」ー Fire Emblem | ファイアーエムブレム

「✦」ー Genshin Impact | 原神

「✦」ー Promise of Wizard (Mahoyaku) | 魔法使いの約束 (まほやく)

「✦」ー Twisted Wonderland | ツイステッドワンダーランド

VTUBERS

「✦」ー NIJISANJI Project | にじさんじプロジェクト

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beyond-the-mirror · 3 years ago

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Music of the Night (V x Reader)

Chapter 7 is finally here! As I have mentioned a couple posts ago I am going to focus solely on this story for the time being. I will try my best to update at least once per week so stay tuned.

Warnings: A little angst in a few parts.

Tagging: @thedyingmoon @minteyeddemon @vampiregirl1797

If you wish to be tagged in this story let me know in the comments.

………………….

Chapter 7: Nightingale in the Cage

“So Bishop, would you mind explaining to us the reason you decided to become a patron for the Opera house?”

“Oh not at all.” Sanctus took a deep breath before speaking again. “As you may have heard in the local news, an estranged brother of mine passed away some time ago, may his soul rest in peace. Days later I received a visit from his lawyer, apparently he had accumulated quite the fortune and his testament determined that I would be the sole heir of all his possessions and shares.” The Bishop made a brief pause, the death of his brother still weighing down his heart. “I actually have no need for such a large sum of money, which is why I only kept a modest enough amount for me and decided to donate the rest in favor of the conservation of the arts.”

“A rather noble cause indeed Bishop, our sincerest apologies for your loss.” Monsieur Andre added.

“Thank you for your condolences. All my life I’ve considered myself to be an admirer of the fine arts. There’s nothing I wouldn’t love more than to finance Fortuna’s famous Opera House and support the careers of its many skilled artists.”

“And we shall be forever grateful for your patronage bishop.” Monsieur Firmin mentioned before lifting his champagne glass. “Let’s have a toast for the future of Fortuna’s Opera House.”

“For the future of this new society.” Raoul finished before the men raised their glasses together in glee. The vicomte, however, seemed to have a sense of sadness in his eyes that he hid all too well from everybody. How he wished to spend more time with you, but didn’t find you at the party.

Maybe you were too exhausted to attend and went home instead? Whatever it was, he wished you were okay.

………………….

‘The newest play from Fortuna’s Theatre Company, Hannibal, has been critically acclaimed by specialized press, scoring an impressive average of 4.6 out of 5 stars’

‘The exquisite acting and choreography are to be praised. However, its most prominent figure is the miraculous voice of the main singer, who has replaced iconic soprano Carlotta Guidicelli as the protagonist.’

‘Step down Carlotta! A new queen has arrived and the spotlight is all hers!’

‘In a shocking turn of events, Signora Carlotta Guidicelli, believed to be the company's successor to legendary soprano Kyrie Eleison, has been overshadowed by a new rising talent. A humble fortunian songstress by the name of (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’

‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N). The break-through songstress that has captivated the audience’s hearts. Is this the birth of a brand new star?’

Reviews, articles and blog posts about the company’s new soprano spread around the internet like wildfire, every single one focusing on the same subject: The mysterious soprano that took Fortuna by surprise and dethroned 'La Carlota’ herself.

The girl had become the theatre’s own Venus and Aphrodite, a muse that inspired all the souls touched by her melodious voice. A nightingale turned human, an angel descended to Earth.

But as her performances continued and her fame grew, a few observant enough would take notice of certain… details regarding her.

The truth behind this? A sinister shadow was tormenting the theatre’s beloved angel, one that threatened to consume not only her, but everything around.

………………….

“I refuse to accept this!” Carlotta stomped her heel on the marbled floor of her lavish bedroom, taking a sip from the almost full glass of wine in her hand.

Ever since that fiasco when she stormed out of the theatre during the rehearsals for ‘Hannibal’, the soprano’s life seemingly started turning for the worse, all because of that girl that once dared to collide with her during rehearsal. She had insisted the dancer had done so on purpose, envious of her great talent.

And now it turns out that dancer is the same one that took her role as the main protagonist! Carlotta felt offended by such a decision, she was a professional while that girl was just a simple amateur

Still, she had to admit this (Y/N) had a gifted voice. What she could not explain is how she managed to perfect her skill to such a high level if she claimed to be an inexperienced singer? As talented as one could be, it takes years of work and practice to master one’s craft, the only explanation she could come up with was that the girl had to have a special tutor, and an exceptional one at that.

But who?

Realizing her glass was already empty, Carlotta hurried to refill it again. She had believed that with Kyrie gone to Broadway, she now had the stage clear for herself to finally shine above everyone else, after all, the only voice above Signora Carlotta could only be that of Fortuna’s legendary songstress herself.

Such hopes were now broken. She had a new competitor, one that was already stealing the spotlights.

As she turned to the broadcast of the company’s most recent play, she huffed when the camera focused on the new main singer. The audience had fallen right into her trap, and now she had them all wrapped around her lithe finger.

“I don’t know what they see in her, she’s nothing special and she’s not that pretty. Especially with those dark circles under her eyes, does she even sleep? Careful girl, you are already losing your youth.” Carlotta snorted before downing her glass of wine.

………………….

“Vicomte Raoul! Bishop Sanctus! We weren’t quite expecting your visit to our Opera House. What can we do for you, gentlemen?”

Messieurs Andre and Firmin almost tripped over their own feet as they hurried to attend the Opera House’s important benefactors. Raoul managed to hide his laughter at their eagerness, while Sanctus simply offered the two a gentle smile.

“Do not worry for us, messieurs. This fine theatre holds so many precious memories of my youth, so I thought it appropriate to drop by and watch the rehearsals take place if you don’t mind us.”

“Oh, not at all Bishop! This way please.”

As the four men approached the hall, a melodious voice resonated through the walls.

“Ah! You are in luck. Our lead singer seems to be on stage right now practicing one of her numbers.” Firmin noted just as he opened the door to the main hall.

Madame Trish was supervising as usual, you stood at the stage performing an aria while Monsieur Reyer directed your voice through the song’s notes. As he took a seat near the stage next to Sanctus, Raoul was mesmerized by your singing figure, the passion and dedication you imprinted on your work palpable and strong enough to touch the hearts of others.

“An utter beauty, isn’t she?” The elder’s voice snapped him out of his trance. As he turned to face Sanctus, he noticed the soft smile and knowing look in his eyes. He gulped, were his feelings that obvious? Then again, Sanctus has seen and learned a lot during the many years of his long life, wisdom comes with age after all.

“Ah! Young love! Perhaps the purest and most innocent of them all.” The bishop gave a hearty chuckle. “Miss (Y/N) is definitely special. Her voice alone holds so much power, enough to make the entire audience bow to her, and yet she still remains humble and authentic.”

Raoul turned his attention back to the stage where you were now conversing with Trish and Reyer about your routine during the number. The vicomte could see what Sanctus meant, you weren’t arrogant or prideful like Carlotta, but rather attentive and open to the feedback and mentoring offered to you.

A smile grazed his lips. He had just met you and already you were taking over his heart and mind.

Still as he observed you going through the song one more time, there was something off that caught his eye. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The heave of your chest whenever you ended a verse, the slight trembles of your feet whenever they moved along the lines marked on the stage by Trish.

You looked… tired? Exhausted, perhaps? No... more like detached.

But you continued the rehearsal with no trouble. Maybe your sudden growing popularity was already taking its toll on you, as well as all the performances you had to do at the theatre. For anyone without experience, such exhaustion is understandable.

In the seat next to him, Bishop Sanctus was also studying you. However, his expression seemed more preoccupied than that of the vicomte. He too had noticed some kind of dark aura looming around you, and he pondered what this could mean for the Opera House’s future, and for his plans too.

………………….

petite.aerette I can’t believe I finally got to watch #Hannibal. So happy to know the Opera House is on the rise once again. #FortunaOperaHouse #theatre #musical

alya_hyacinth You saw it live? Girl, I’m jealous!

dramaqueen101 Aaah I was there too! I wish you told me you were going, we could have gone together and have our seats next to each other.

petite.aerette Sorry! Mom surprised me with our tickets that same morning. Did you see that new singer everyone is talking about? She is awesome! I already love her voice and acting!

dramaqueen101 I know right?! In fact I caught a glimpse of her after the play when she retired to her dressing room. I wanted to go talk to her but it was too crowded and she seemed to be in a rush. However I noticed she looked a bit tired? As if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep.

………………….

Free time had become a luxury for Nico. There was always something to fix, something to supervise, something to check. Whatever breaks she would get, she welcomed them with open arms and relaxed as much as she could before it was back to work again.

It was in one of these breaks when she ran into you, what better way to enjoy some free time than with a dear friend?

But as she approached your figure, Nico took notice of your appearance. Your skin was now as pale as a ghost, your eyes were heavy with sleepiness and dark circles framing them. You looked as if you were about to collapse at any given moment.

“Hey, you alright sugarcube?” Nico’s hands went to your arms by instinct, just in case you were feeling sick and you needed to be rushed to the infirmary. But with a small smile, you tried to ease her worries.

“Couldn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all.”

“Uh huh…” Nico was many things, highly perceptive was one of those. Many have found out the hard way that she was not an easy one to fool. Of course, it was no surprise that she could see right through your words. “Come. Let’s get you some warm tea.”

Stern and maybe a bit harsh, but caring when the situation called for it. That was Nicoletta Goldstein for you. One of the most surprising things about her is that she made the best tea in the world according to the people working at the theatre.

“This should ease you a bit, honey. Careful, it’s still hot.” As she handed you the small cup, she looked at you with worry in her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead she waited for you to open up and tell her what was wrong.

You could already picture the almost dead look you must have had. With slightly shaky hands you held onto the porcelain cup, raising it to your lips and gently blowing the steam to cool it down a bit. As a warm earthy flavor filled your taste buds, your body could finally ease up and relax even if just for a little while, granting you a moment of much needed peace.

Still, you didn’t find it in yourself to tell her.

Luckily for you, Nico knew better than to keep insisting. She figured that whatever was worrying you, you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. Nonetheless, she stayed right by your side in a comfortable silence with a cup of tea of her own.

It was a nice and peaceful moment, at least until she was called to check on one of the moving stage props.

And so she excused herself, but not before reminding you that you could always count on her for anything.

What Nico didn’t know, however, was the reason for your silence.

You didn’t tell her because something was forcing you to.

………………….

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. And soon enough, time itself began to blur.

Ever since that night at his sanctuary, everything felt… off.

You had woken up in your bed, feeling dazed and lightheaded, perhaps the effects of the turmoil from the previous night.

V. The first thing on your mind as soon as you recovered your consciousness was him.

You wanted, no, needed to find him and get some answers. Why did he disappear so many years ago? Why was he hiding his true identity from you?

… What were those black markings scarring his face?

There was just one problem, you didn’t know where exactly was his sanctuary located. The secret passage behind the mirror in your dressing room came to mind, but in order to navigate the underground canals you needed a boat, not to mention that it was easy to get lost in there. Maybe you could ask the authorities for help, but how could you explain your story and make them believe you?

You made your decision on the way to the Opera House. You would start by telling Nico for the moment, you trusted her enough and she often gave the best advice on any matter.

But the moment you spotted her in the distance and tried to approach her, something strange happened.

An unseen force lodged itself in your chest, holding your voice and your heart in a vice grip that burned through your entire body. All the air in your lungs escaped you, and the feeling of daze you felt that morning returned in full force. You tried to scream, call for help, but no sound would come out of your lips. All words died as soon as they left your vocal chords.

You watched Nico leaving after someone required her assistance, and as soon as she disappeared from your line of sight, the pain stopped. As sudden as it had arrived.

You remained frozen in your place, goosebumps raised on your flesh. The moment some sensation came back to your legs, you ran away.

The day continued with relative normalcy, but your mind remained perturbed. And hours later, just as all the scheduled performances had ended for the day, you headed for your dressing room.

Once inside, the mirror opened, and everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, it was already morning the next day. Once again you woke in your bed, feeling as dazed and lightheaded as the day before. But the feeling didn’t go away, and with everyday that passed, it only became worse.

Strangely enough, your performances never faltered once despite the unknown illness weighing you down, almost as if you were doing everything automatically, like a machine following its program. You were thankful for this apparent ability to keep it together, but soon you started feeling detached. It reached a point when you could no longer feel your own body, or the melodic notes leaving your lips. You were no longer living, but rather watching your life unfold itself without any input of your own.

Many times you made an attempt to tell someone, anyone, about this; but you found that every single time you were about to do so, that terrible pain would return until you desisted. Soon, you were conditioned to stay quiet.

One day Nico began noticing your predicament, but by then that obscure force had you under its control already. She was right there, concerned and willing to help. And yet you didn’t dare to speak up.

Panic often filled your mind, hopelessness flooded your soul. You prayed and prayed for this nightmare to stop.

After another successful performance, the last one for the day, you found yourself inside the main dressing room as usual.

And as usual, the mirror opened, letting out the hidden darkness that haunted the Opera House behind everyone’s backs.

………………….

Poor unfortunate Joseph Buquet.

Ever since that incident with the falling curtain, Nico had him double checking pretty much everything. Every rope, pulley and mechanism had to be meticulously examined in order to prevent another incident like that from happening again. Now he understood why it was such an important and critical matter, the least he wanted was for anybody to be harmed due to a malfunction after all, but his own anxiety over making a mistake and causing another accident was already getting him. The poor man would triple- no, cuadruple check every single detail in an almost paranoid way. Not a single nook or cranny would be left unattended by this dedicated worker.

So it was no surprise that today was especially bad for the nervous Mr. Buquet, for his trusty utility belt had been misplaced, making him search the whole building for his precious tools.

Only after finding his utility belt did Buquet allow himself to feel relieved, a heavy burden lifting off his tired shoulders. He was making his way back to the fly floor when the sound of hurried steps nearby reached his ears, as he turned at a corner he caught a glimpse of you closing the door to your dressing room shut. Noticing the way you entered the room in such a haste, he worried something might have happened to you. Maybe you were feeling sick and needed to rest? These days you had been looking paler than usual, and the man had to admit that seeing you in your current lamentable state tugged at his heartstrings.

Walking to your door, Buquet politely knocked at the wooden surface “Miss (Y/N), is everything alright?” But no answer came back.

He knocked again, this time a bit louder. “Miss (Y/N), are you there?” Again, no answer.

Now he was getting genuinely concerned. He even pressed his ear to the door in an attempt to hear whatever was happening inside, but he found only silence.

“Miss (Y/N) I’m opening the door right now!” Buquet immediately took hold of the knob and slowly cracked it open, merely peeking inside just in case you needed some privacy after all.

The sight that greeted him sent chills to his very bones.

A tall shadowy figure towered at the back of the room, its arms wrapped around your unconscious body in a seemingly possessive manner. Like a ghost, it moved towards the mirror and disappeared with you in its arms.

Buquet stood frozen as his mind tried to process what just happened before him.

He had heard the stories, rumors about an entity that haunted the Opera House. Some workers would mention seeing shadows through the corners of their eyes, others would claim that low growling noises could be heard at the hallways when they were empty enough, and a few would tell how they found strange iridescent blue feathers in the most bizarre locations inside the premises.

His mind pictured the heavy curtain that mysteriously fell on Carlotta. Then, the strange Box Four that always remained unoccupied despite the concierge’s claims about hearing a voice coming from inside.

They called it different names. A poltergeist, a monster, a demon… a Phantom…

But this time they hadn’t moved a prop or taken a simple object with them.

This time, they had taken a person.

………………….

Locked inside one of the restrooms designated for the staff, Mr. Buquet did his best to calm himself down. He had just witnessed the kidnapping of a promising young woman by the hands of an… an entity.

His hands flew to his hair in panic. What could he do? Nobody would believe a phantom had spirited away the company’s Prima Donna!

He… he had to have been hallucinating! Yes, that had to be it. For years the staff has accused the Phantom for all the minor inconveniences that often sabotaged rehearsals and productions, but this was an entirely different story, a songstress was just kidnapped for Lord Sparda’s sake! Urban legends or not, the supposed Phantom had never gone to these extremes before.

Splashing some cold water on his tired face one last time, Buquet finally exited the restroom and made his way back home, all the while reassuring himself that what he had witnessed couldn’t have been real.

‘Tomorrow Miss (Y/N) is gonna come to work as always. Nothing bad happened to her. Right now she is at home, resting on her bed.’ He would repeat himself over and over.

And the next day, Buquet got his much needed relief when he saw you rehearsing at the stage as if nothing had transcurred the night before. He almost let out an euphoric laugh when he saw you safe and sound and that he had been anxious for nothing.

Concluding that the constant burnout was the cause of his hallucinations, Mr. Buquet requested for a few days off to recover, a request that Monsieur Andre approved without thinking twice.

Everything was going to be okay… or so thought Joseph Buquet.

Castings for a new production called ‘Il Muto’ were about to start in a few weeks, and everyone was about to witness how a single wrong decision could unleash the most gruesome of horrors.

#devil may cry #phantom of the opera #Vitale Sparda #dmc v #v x fem!reader #v x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writings from the mirror

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jacks-dark-oc-stuff · 5 months ago

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both are he/him

#jacks ocs #oc #oc chat #oc art #oc thoughts #costel #florian #fortuna art story line #art #art work

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brazenautomaton · 4 years ago

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Duet In SSS Major

Art by @puropoly

This is my Devil May Cry fic about Kyrie becoming a summoner-style Devil Hunter, with lots of gameplay and story integration, co-op partners, and some shameless asset reuse. I’m on the first draft, this post is just where I’ll collect all the draft chapters in one place so I can link them at once instead of one at a time.

Part of the drafting process is being able to change your mind about the plot later, and go back and make it all line up. That’s why there is a huge discontinuity starting with chapter 9: I realized that to give this more structure and to be more able to track what is going on on the villain side, the whole conflict needs to be about Mundus and his minions vs Argosax and its minions, and have Kyrie’s rival Hosanna serving Arius with the goal of elevating him as the Savior, instead of having everyone doing their own thing willy-nilly. So I need to go back to chapters 1-8 and fix them to be in line with this, and I will once the entire story’s first draft is done (in case I need to go back and change more). The chapters that haven’t been edited to fit this still have the placeholder “Kyrie May Cry” title.

Chapter 1 (Mission 03: Kyrie)

Chapter 2 (Mission 04: Trailblazer)

Chapter 3 (Mission 06: Waterway)

Chapter 4 (Mission 07: Reflection)

Chapter 5 (Mission 09: Fortuna, City Of Déjà Vu)

Chapter 6 (Mission 11: Recovery)

Chapter 7 (Mission 12: Retrieval)

Chapter 8 (Mission 13: Origin)

Chapter 9 (Mission 16: Axis)

Chapter 10 (Mission 16: Axis) (Again) (also this chapter was written before chapter 9 and needs obvious fixes to bring it in line with things that happen in chapter 9 since they happen simultaneously)

Chapter 11 (Mission 18: Sabotage)

Chapter 12 (Mission 19: Pursuit)

Chapter 13 (Mission 21: Path to Wisdom)

Chapter 14 (Mission 22: La Vita Futura)

Chapter 15 (Mission 23: Scion)

The first draft is done, yay!

YAAAAAAY!

I already have a big list of things to fix or align in the second draft:

- integrate the “Hosanna serves Arius” plot from the beginning with scenes showing what the villains are doing

- have Kyrie repeatedly attempt to send invites to “trembletv_comboreaper” when she feels uncertain and anxious to remind the reader that’s Nero’s Player

- have Kyrie name her moves in a comedic way and integrate more loading screen tips to remind the reader what move is what and make them better able to track the action

- make Trish’s dialogue more Trishlike

- make all the formatting consistent

- have Basilisk and Gladius talk more during battles

- double-check all the battles to see if they go on too long or are unsatisfying (the one in chapter 14 definitely needs to go better)

- maybe Lady needs some gun-kata moves

- clearer setups for lessons Kyrie learns later about tactics

- more opportunity for Kyrie to long for the power of the Haywire Neo-Generator instead of having it for less than one mission

- obvious spelling and grammar fixes

- whatever anyone else points out doesn’t line up or isn’t adequately built up to

So as always, comments and feedback are appreciated!

#my fiction #devil may cry #dmc kyrie #Kyrie #fanfiction

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skyler10fic · 4 years ago

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The Rose of Fortuna | Ch. 2 Sculpt

By Skyler10

John gets a second chance to connect with the artist from the garden!

@doctorroseprompts

Ch. 1 | Read Ch. 2 on Ao3

-----------------

His reflection sighed back at him as he did his bow tie with practiced hands. John Mott, eldest grandson of Wilfred Mott, Lord of Cribbenswick, was never one for lavish parties. Oh sure, he enjoyed the festivities and the nibbles and the rare intriguing conversation, but the stuffy clothes and people and pomp were wasted on him. His idea of a party was Mykonos with a daiquiri in one hand and a book in the other. When he was younger, perhaps a classmate from Cambridge or a pretty lab partner, but they always had ambitions larger than sitting around worrying over the expensive upkeep of historic estates. None of them seemed right. There just wasn’t that spark.

If he were honest with himself, which he rarely allowed himself to be, it wasn’t true that there was never a spark. There was the artist in the garden last weekend. She had captivated him. He hadn’t intended to disturb her, but it felt wrong simply observing her. He felt compelled toward her and couldn’t stop himself from starting a conversation.

Even better, she seemed to have no idea who he was. She wasn’t there to get a glimpse of the “eligible bachelor” like some of the young women who visited. There was something more to her, something in her eyes that could transport him to another world, and he wanted to visit that world, to see what wonders her universe held.

His tux complete, the uniform of a dutiful noble grandson, he headed downstairs, feeling the awkward absence of a partner on his arm that much more acutely now that he had met the mysterious artist.

That feeling was only compounded as he stepped into the elegant fundraiser showcasing the sculpture collection of a prestigious gallery. His mother, Lord Wilfred’s daughter, had held important connections as a patron in the art world, connections that could help John find dealers for some of the art stored away in the attics of Mott House. With that cash, he could replace the pipes to the second story. Barring another, more pressing emergency, of course.

-------------------------

“Ready, son?” asked Lord Wilfred. John nodded with a polite smile and led his grandfather into the gallery for the party. Attending art functions was never easy for them since John’s mother’s passing last year, but they knew they needed to take advantage of this opportunity.

They split up to chat with important contacts, some who hadn’t been able to make the funeral offering their condolences. While each reminder of his mum plucked at the ache in his heart, it didn’t destroy him like it had a year ago. He could see her joy in everything around him: the art, the people, the way she had cared about them and their petty, fussy lives. To him, they were mundane, but she had seen them as a community that needed her kindness and leadership and careful attention. He shook hands with this in mind, sipping champagne and offering his card to potential business contacts when appropriate. Just as he was feeling sure of himself and his role in the game, the air was knocked out of his lungs.

The artist from the garden.

She looked much different in a black-tie-formal dress, of course, but she had the same far-away look. She stood away from the party, watching the rough waves on a grey sea. With a sly smile, he noticed her glass was empty. He had his entrance. His smooth line was cut off, however, as she noticed him first.

“It’s … you,” she said in wonder, a small crinkle forming in her brow. “What are you...? I mean, hello?”

He exhaled a little laugh. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t realize you were….” He nodded to the party around them.

“Oh! I am. Um, on staff, that is. This isn’t my gallery, though. I’m at the one at the university, closer to Cribbenswick.”

“I don’t want to distract you, if you’re working.” He was feeling a bit of deja vu and he still knew so little about her. The truth was, he did want to distract her, very much. He wanted to ask her a thousand questions, and very few of them had to do with art.

“Not working,” she answered with a lip bite that led to more questions forming in his ever-curious mind. “Are you here alone?”

“No, well, yes in the way you mean it, but technically I am here with my grandfather on business. Usually, my cousin—the, umm, shouty woman you met the other day—is with us but she’s had other engagements of late.” He wiggled his empty ring finger to emphasize his pun.

“Ah.” Rose nodded in understanding. “I notice that you too have an empty glass.” She gestured to his hand.

“Oi, that was supposed to be my line,” he teased.

“Was it now?” She grinned. “Very smooth. Let’s go then.”

His rational mind knew she was leading him to the bar, but a part of him would have followed her anywhere.

She made easy conversation with the bartender and handed him his glass. She parted her lips to speak, but before she could get a word out, a colleague of hers stepped in. He wouldn’t lose her again, though. He stayed by her side, and to his great relief, she introduced them as some of the important contacts he had on his list for the night.

“That’s the last of my contact cards,” he told her as her colleagues mingled with other party-goers. He followed her back to her spot by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the wild sea.

“May I ask…” She furrowed her brow. “What’s on them?”

He mirrored her expression, not following. “Oh, just the standard information, I suppose. My business number and email and such.”

“No,” she laughed. “I’m asking for your name.”

Realization dawned over him. They still hadn’t exchanged introductions. She stuck out her hand formally.

“Rose Tyler, director of the Wickshire Gallery.”

He took her hand and instead of shaking it, something possessed him to bring it to his lips for a kiss to the back. Luckily, she did not make fun of him for watching too many Edwardian movies. She seemed only a bit confused. But there was a pleasant blush there as well. He decided on the whole truth. Or at least, the relevant bits.

“Sir John Mott of Cribbenswick, grandson of Lord Cribbenswick. Tour guide, occasional docent, patron of the arts, caretaker, and manager of the Mott House. And its collections.”

Rose’s face was pink with embarrassment at his revelations.

“So when I said in the garden, I didn’t own the pathway…”

“Technically, I do, yes. Or rather, my grandfather does. I don’t own any of it. I simply keep it from falling into ruin.” He hoped his light tone would ease her embarrassment. “I should be thanking you, actually.”

“Why’s that?” She took a sip of her champagne, reminding him to drink his.

“Well, without people coming to visit or sketch or take classes, who knows what might become of the old place. Maybe if people see your drawings, they will want to see it themselves. So, thank you.”

They exchanged a long look before she answered, quietly.

“You’re welcome. It’s a beautiful place. I’m glad to help.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his grandfather observing them with a fond smile before turning back to his conversation partners.

John decided bold was his best option.

“Rose… Tyler, was it?”

She nodded.

“I’d like to invite you back to Mott House. Officially. As my guest.”

The flash of a camera and the wave of the event photographer drew their attention away from their conversation, however, and their moment was gone. The rest of the party caught up with them, drawing them away for their professional duties. As John and his grandfather were leaving, he reached down to pull out a contact card to leave her, but was reminded by his empty pocket that he had given them all away.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #ten x rose AU #dw fic #artist rose #doctorroseprompts #nobility au #artist au

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amadness2method · 4 years ago

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The New Year Brings New Things!

First off, Happy New Year! I hope you are all having a wonderful 2021. Someone needs to. Anyway, some of you who are following me on Instagram and Twitter know a bit about some of the things going on (I sometimes forget to post to Tumblr, unfortunately, but I’m trying to do better).

Without going into a lot of detail about some of the rougher parts where my real personal life has been raining on my head, I’ll simply say that I’ve been extremely busy fandom-wise with zines, events, and projects.

Most of these projects have been art and design related regarding zines and some collaborations, but some of them have been writing projects of my own as well. I’m still writing on the 9 WIPs I’ve got going on (though only 4 are in the process of posting) and have gotten a lot done in between other commitments.

Just because you don’t see me posting, doesn’t mean I’m not busy doing the work. I haven’t been posting because I don’t write in a linear fashion. I can’t. I write scenes as they come to me along the plot outline.

Part of my not posting in Finders, Keepers, as an example, is a courtesy. The next chapter to post will end on a cliffhanger, and I want to wait until I’ve got the chapter after that ready so that I don’t leave it for over a month without the next part.

Nothing has been abandoned.

I pour so much of myself into my writing. It means a great deal to me, and I don’t want to write just anything to get something out there. I have stories I want to tell, and to do that takes a lot of working between different chapters to ensure the clues I’ve left early on match up with the progress that is made towards the end. It’s a bit of a juggle, but it’s how I like to write, and if you’re following my work, I think it’s safe to say that you might like it, too.

I miss posting regularly. I do. I miss the comments and interaction. I always sit up and wait to read comments (PAKIDGE?) after I post anything, but especially so with my longer fics that I’ve poured my entire heart and soul into. My art and writing is a lot of what keeps me going. You can usually tell when I’m in a funk, because I’ll have more projects lined up. It’s because I’m trying to find some sort of satisfaction in a world that I don’t necessarily fit into anymore.

It’s part of a complex coping mechanism, one I use to process a lot of the things I feel. Part of why I write so much angst is as a way to deal with things, but also, the more intense the writing, the more emotionally draining it is for me to do. You might notice that sometimes I will have little hiatuses here and there with writing, but then you’ll see little silly things I do art-wise pop up, such as my style-trial experimentations, or previews for things I can’t share publicly due to exclusivity periods.

As someone with severe anxiety and depression problems, these are the things I do to not spiral out into further despair.

As much as I love that people enjoy my writing, and I do so love that, when I get comments and messages telling me I need to be working on the fics, or asking when the next update is, or telling me they’re tired of waiting, or things like that, it makes me feel worse. I want to be able to get all of this out and done and be completely unaffected by it. I do. But the same emotions that I try to weave into my art and writing also weigh me down at times. Sometimes, it’s simple enough to brush off. Other times, especially when combined with many other things happening all at once, it’s suffocating.

On a lighter note, many of the projects I began in late 2020 are about to be completed, at least for the bulk of the work done on my part, and this will leave me with more time to work on things without deadlines.

When Finders, Keepers wraps up (That’s going to hurt, because I’ve truly loved writing those characters in ways I never expected) I have already written lot on O, Fortuna, and will start posting that, along with continuing in the Music and Manuscripts extended universe. I’ve been writing more about Crowley, Louis, and the rest of the demons in M&M: Soothe The Savage Beast, and have also begun work on Aziraphale, Raphael, Michael, and the other angels in M&M: Broken Wings. There is also backstory for the parents in M&M: Ciribiribin, and a new book in the Universe, but with a bit of a twist, and it will run concurrently with the main universe, M&M: Twist Of Fate. I’ve also started writing something entirely new outside of these, but it won’t be ready to publish until after Finders, Keepers completes, at least, and possibly some more on Celestial Spektors.

I’ve posted a new snippet for Finders, keepers on the WIPS page of my website if you’d like a sneak peek.

Please know that whether you read this entire wall of text or not, I love you all so much for following my work. I do understand what it’s like to get attached to a story and want to see where it goes. I’ve been there many times, myself. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to make each and every person who asks for more fic or more of a specific fic, or more of a specific art type, etc as happy as I would like to.

I am doing my best, but sometimes my best isn’t quite good enough, and I have to accept that. There’s a long road ahead, and I hope that you’ll stick with me through it.

Thank you for everything

Cyn

#Finders Keepers GO #music and manuscripts #amadness2method #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanart #How I cope

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reblogthiscrapkay · 4 years ago

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Persephone in “Genealogy of the Pagan Gods″ by Giovanni Boccaccio

Let me tell you a story about how I’m a witch.

So over the last week, I had been living at my best friend’s house because the power went out at my house. One day after watching a documentary about rare booksellers, we went outside to take a walk around and discuss it and there was a package on his deck. He opened it up and it was a book he had ordered by an ancestor of his, a famous Italian author (arguably the second most famous Italian author? he’s definitely been getting some recent press as his most famous work is about a plague). My friend is trying to get translated copies of every book written by him. Because my friend knows about my interest in mythology, he immediately handed me the book and I opened it up to a random page to see this header:

I showed him what I had done and my friend was like, “Well, she’s calling to you.”

So let’s talk about my girl Persephone (or Proserpina in this case) via her mom Demeter (Ceres in this case).

There is so much interesting detail here!

First of all we have Demeter lighting torches. Hecate is usually the one portrayed with torches because of her nature as a crossroads goddess but I’ve also seen a lot of ancient art (especially in Eleusis) of Persephone with torches too. Never Demeter.

The idea of Demeter confronting Hades (how? was he above or she below?) is not one I’ve really seen and the idea that she ate poppy seeds actually made me really excited. The poppy is one of the things associated with Demeter, and this is the first time I’ve seen it included as an element of this myth.

Also, I have to laugh at “Pluto’s pleasure garden.” Because I’m a child.

Demeter making Trip immortal seems to me to be a confusing mistake or possibly Boccaccio trying to make the myth make more sense. In the Hymn, it’s Demophon, not Trip, who she tries to make immortal. Since Trip is the more important one who works for Demeter, I could see why changing this would make narrative sense. Also never heard the idea of her KILLING a king. Also Trip and Demo were Celeus’ sons not “King Eleusis”? This whole thing is kind of a mess.

The mention of Demeter’s son makes sense because this is a chapter on her specifically. A lot of the time I’ve seen the son’s name as Plutus to try to distinguish him from Hades, but since Plutus and Hades are both gods of wealth, the whole thing has always been kind of a mess that clearly shows a bunch of myth meshing over time.

Then we get Boccaccio’s interpretation, which is some of the most interesting stuff because of how it reflects his time (medieval) and place (Italy, so he’s viewing this from an Ancient Roman and not Ancient Greek lens). According to Theodontius (who’s work is apparently mostly unknown except for liberal references made to his work by BigMouth here), Demeter is the wife of the king of Sicily, Sicanus, which makes sense when you consider that Sicily is considered Persephone’s island.

All his talk about the moon and layers of the earth is so unique. And his literary interpretation of Persephone as a crop! So cool, but also tells me as a reader so much about Boccaccio in a way. Through a modern lens and all the 20th/21st century texts I’ve read, we often see Persephone as a symbol of the life/death cycle or as a symbol of maturation (with seeds being more of a sexual thing or of choosing to grow up than an agricultural thing). It makes me wonder if the nature of Boccaccio’s society is more agrarian or maybe he’s more male-fixated and therefore less likely to think of Persephone in such female-focused ways, that makes the crop comparison make more sense to him. He also uses Ovid as justification, which tells me a lot (as someone who has some not-so-positive feelings for Ovid).

Orcus, as it turns out, was basically another Hades idea common in rural areas. Like Pluto, he’s Hades but also not. Orcus also was apparently more of a scary demon type underworld king, than Hades or Pluto. Orcus/Pluto/Hades is what happens when you have too many gods doing the same thing. THat gives me a thought actually. What is someone wrote a story where Orcus and Hades both exist but Orcus is the villain? Or even Orcus is an alter ego of Hades?

All that stuff about Trip is confusing to me. The mixing of mythologies is making my head hurt.

Glauca I can’t even find anything on. I’ve heard of Glaucus, of course, but I’ve never heard of Hades having a twin sister who died young. Or of the idea that Hades was actually protected from Kronos. That was just Zeus. Hades was swallowed.

I respect Boccaccio citing his sources.

Super minor detail but I often hear of Hades having four, not three horses. I sometimes wonder if the four has something to do with a Biblical conflation.

Also, I have read Ovid (Metamorphosis, but then I don’t know what BigMouth is citing here) and I don’t remember Hades going above ground to check on his roofing, but I got a good chuckle out of it.

Hades having a kid named Veneration is SO Roman. The Romans had so many random gods like this that the Greeks didn’t, most famous being probably Fortuna, goddess of fortune. There’s a bit more on her at the end of the Pluto chapter (with more super Roman ideas and the detail of Persephone being barren, which is super ironic and totally possible):

Back to the main narrative on Hades: I also laughed at “Tricerebus.” And Tisiphone as a guardian of wealth instead of a Fury? Odd.

And then BigMouth’s going off with more interpretation. The idea that a combination of abundance (represented by Persephone) and wealth (represented by Hades) yields nothing 1. would be an interesting way to explain their lack of children and 2. again says a lot about Boccaccio’s perspective.

The notes on naming Hades are really interesting and connecting him with February and funeral rites. And then we have the world dividing and such.

So I used the index to look up more on Persephone specifically and found some other little mentions of her including one that said the Sirens where her companions and when they couldn’t find her, they were turned into marine monsters. We get this absolutely hilarious line explaining BigMouth’s opinion on this, “I think they were companions of Proserpina because by Proserpina is understood the abundance of Sicilian products, from which libidinous sexual craving is especially derived and the delights of food and leisure are supplied” (195). I read this line out loud to my friend because the side of his family related to Boccaccio is also Sicilian so at some point in the last 600 years, BigMouth’s descendants decided that the land of sexual craving and food is the place to be.

We also have the myth of Pirithous:

I have read versions where Persephone is the main one to stop him, Hades is the main one to stop him, and now Cerberus. Also leave it to a man to somehow have a weird moral to this story about manliness.

And finally, we have this incredibly odd tale that is both specifically Roman and also kind of exemplifies everything I’ve said before about how much the Romans messed with Greek mythology by just smushing everything together and then adding new gods from local cults:

“In fact I detest these riddles and ambiguities and gladly lay them aside” (331). You said it, BigMouth. I hope you’d be proud of your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-etc. nephew or son or whatever because he’s one of my favorite people.

#the persephone project #persephone #greek mythology #roman mythology #giovanni boccaccio #personal

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