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vintagegeekculture · 16 days ago

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I remember a friend of mine had some LPs that were Star Wars themed disco albums, and it brought back a very weird memory from back in the 70s (yes, I'm old!) of listening to a Star Wars disco mashup on the radio. What was all that about? I also remember something like that for Close Encounters, too.

You remember correctly, and this went on for a long while. In 1983, disk jockeys around the country played a record that involved an Ewok rapping the plot of Return of the Jedi in Ewokese. This made it to #60 in the Billboard Top 100.

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This is hard to explain to people who weren’t there….but in the wake of Star Wars in the late 70s and early 80s, scifi was so beloved and mainstream that the orchestral music for nerdy scifi and fantasy movies about outer space were remixed and sampled into Giorgio Moroder-esque Italo-Disco dance numbers. And the most astonishing thing is, instead of being consigned to convention acts the way “horse famous” Brony dubstep acts are, this received national airplay on the radio, reached the pop music charts, and were played in discotheques. And incredibly, this continued for years and expanded from Star Wars into Star Trek, Wizard of Oz, Black Hole, Close Encounters….

All of this was the work of one specific person: Meco (or Dominico Monardo). The term “ahead of their time” is thrown around a lot, but Meco really was: a combination producer-songwriter and Italo-Disco pioneer in the style of Giorgio Moroder, he did several things that are now absolutely standard: he used remixes and sampling before hiphop made that standard for musicians, he wrote “fandom music” on a Moog synthesizer decades before Bronies turned their conventions into cringey dubstep concerts with songs like “Everypony Dance Now.”

It's stunning to me that Meco has not been rediscovered, considering every single trend in the culture essentially went his way.

The most startling thing about Meco’s Star Wars disco album, the one that got the ball rolling on this trend, is this: I always assumed it was some kind of cash in created by a record label mandate, a label executive’s completely cynical choice to hop on a hot new trend. That isn’t a crazy thing to think at all, since Star Wars is and always has been the most merchandized and sold out scifi property ever. But it wasn’t! You see, it was all the product of a single man’s specific vision: Meco had to convince his record label to make the record because they were skeptical.

When Meco went to see Star Wars in 1977 on Opening Day (what an experience that must have been) with his friend and fellow Italian chest hair/gold medallion enthusiast Tony Bongiovi, he was already an experienced producer-songwriter who had worked with Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, and formed DCA, the Disco Corporation of America. If you've ever listened to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out," Meco actually played the trombone solo in that song. Seeing the Star Wars movie for the first time, though Meco thought the movie was nothing short of a religious experience. Originally, he wanted to do Star Wars music as a b-side on a Gloria Gaynor album, but expanded the idea into an entire album.

In Meco’s own words:

"When I think about what I did, nobody came to me, nobody said 'Meco, why don't you do this.' Nobody says 'Here's some money go make a record of this movie.' It was just my own... It was magical, it was just out of this world when all that happened."

Not only did this album hit platinum, not only did it actually outsell the Star Wars soundtrack, his remix of the Star Wars theme also went to #1 in the charts. It’s actually the best selling instrumental single of all time. A record, that, incidentally, it holds to this day.

Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, had this to say about Meco:

"In 1977, Meco Monardo accomplished something no one else has ever done to the best of my knowledge. He was the first one in history to out-sell the soundtrack of a motion picture with his own distinctive version of a film's music. The music was totally danceable, and broke new ground. It's no wonder the STAR WARS THEME went to # 1. I loved his treatment of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. Again, Meco created something innovative. The fun and the excitement gave a whole new feel to that totally familiar and well-loved music."

Like a lot of studio producers, Meco had an insane work ethic and hit when the iron was hot: he did an album about Close Encounters that exact same year, but also did a Star Wars Christmas Album, one of the strangest pieces of Star Wars kitsch around.

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One of the most interesting things about the Star Wars Christmas album is that one of the songs, “R2D2’s Wish You a Merry Christmas” is the first professional vocals by John Bon Jovi, who was Meco’s friend Tony Bongiovi’s seventeen year old younger cousin (he was initially known as John Bongiovi). It's incredible to hear a squeaky voiced teen Bon Jovi on a kitsch album about a robot Christmas.

1978-1979 was really his best year. Meco made an Italo-Disco remix album entirely devoted to Superman, and at this point, Meco had the pull to get access to John Williams's sheet music for the score before the music even came out. In my personal opinion it's the best of them because he has to recreate it entirely with his own instruments, leading to a very unique sound.

He also did an album based on the Wizard of Oz:

And a combination album of Star Trek/Black Hole. It's probably the earliest remixing date of Goldsmith pieces of music: the Motion Picture Theme (which is now associated with the Next Generation - hearing it done in Italodisco is uncanny) and the Klingon Theme:

Incidentally, I think the design here of the Meco Enterprise, which had to be modified for legal reasons, would make a wonderful canon starship if anyone wants to be inspired by it. It reminds me of the same concept that would be used in the very next film for the Reliant-class of ships.

Meco eventually retired from music in 1985, but unfortunately he is no longer with us, as he passed into the next dimension in 2023. I think he showed us that creativity is often about transformation, and was inspired to make his art by a legitimate awe of space, the cosmos, and human imagination that the scifi movies of the 1970s and 80s provoke.

#meco #disco #star wars #star trek #70s

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nachosncheezies · 3 months ago

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Yes exactly!!! And they're so passionate in their frustration, which is fair, but as I said in my original tags, it can seem so prevalent that it can end up feeling like there's an expectation that more people would agree (or even that maybe they should), if only we thought about it in a certain way. Sometimes I feel like an endangered species; I'm hiding in the trees hoping no one notices or comes for me. Because sitting on the sidelines, it looks like it happens so much. Even when people are respectful and encouraging of debate or diversity, the counterpoints that often follow when people express love can be really repetitive and honestly pretty discouraging, and for me it often ends up kind of... feeling like it's not even worth speaking? And I really haven't much, before now. Because like yeah, I know those are the common complaints, love that for you, but where my fellow floppy wet raggedy ann doll lovers at?? (that's now what I'm gonna call IWTB->the revivals btw, just thought of it in the previous tags, you're welcome) But then I see the engagement you brave few sometimes get when you post your love - how many likes, how many reblogs (even rbs without comments or tags, because why reblog if there's not something in there you think is interesting or valid?) - and I think I must not be the only one who's quietly biting their tongue. I think the consensus and/or frustration are not nearly as universal as a tumblr tagsearch would lead one to believe. This is me sticking my little nose out of my little thicket of obscurity to hopefully let someone else know that we're here. And we love our floppy wet little raggedy ann doll.

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! My feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

#and to anyone who dislikes the doll #yes i know feeling drowned out and discouraged is an interpretation thing and that most of you don't intend it that way and i'm greatful #but there are SO MANY of you lmao #and i have mostly heard it all before #and sometimes i just wanna VIBE. not debate chris carter or the writers intentions or the lack of a show bible or whatever else #and the spiritedness that often unfolds #or honestly even just the rehashing and affirmation of those viewpoints in response!#just makes it so much easier to say nothing. do not post. do not say that you love the doll.#so that i can vibe in Peace!!!#this is getting dangerously close to rant territory #and skewing too close to some disk horse that I quietly awkwardly watched unfold like a month ago while doing exactly ^ that.#just. biting my tongue. agreeing with those who differed from the loudness and expressed frustration at what happens when one differs from #the loudness. hiding so as not to be percieved.#well today i'm comin outta my cage and i be doin just fine. (gotta gotta be cool pls don't attack my vibes)#yeah that's right kiddos 😎 i'm bamboozling you with music 😎 and hopefully no one will remember what i said #(unless they're in the same tongue-biting boat. in which case please do come join the vibe)#oop #txf thoughts

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thequibblah · 10 days ago

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hello thought you’d like to know that your (CT) characterisation of James and Lily reminds me of ‘an ego thing’ by Lizzy McAlpine :)

Oh I totally hear it! Thank you for sharing 🩷

#anon #come together #music disk horse

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naffeclipse · 3 months ago

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Forget-me-not

Reader x Sun and Moon

Commission Info

Thank you for @robinette-green for the lovely request! I adored writing this and making the boys so sweet to the reader! The reader is a clockwork animatronic who's trapped in an abandoned circus, and Sun and Moon step foot onto the forgotten ground and find someone in need of their help.

———

You watch another golden glow creep into oblivion upon the abandoned carnival and its sad, lonely inhabitants. The sun withdraws soundlessly like a stranger passing by. The Freak Show sign slumps, depressed. The once golden and galloping horses in the carousel have rusted into cruel, dark hues and no longer stamp or throw their wild manes back while children ride their once beautiful, gleaming saddles. The big tent—it hasn’t been big in years. It lies in sore tatters, wet from yesterday’s rainstorm with poles sticking up high and stringing along broken bulbs of once bright, yellow lights illuminating the darkness, promising fun to the humans who stepped onto the fairgrounds.

You hate the darkness. You hate it more than being bolted down in place and left to host a game of ring toss no one has played in years. Your right arm is still extended in invitation over the green and brown bottles. The carnival owner couldn’t even allow you both of your arms, pinning your stance into place with bolts and leaving only your left hand to occasionally wave and flutter to catch the attendee’s eyes.

After all the trouble he went to steal you away from your creator, you thought he would at least have taken you with him when the bright, colorful lights and happy, bouncing music came to a halt.

The soft words of your creator ring distantly, like a voice calling out through fog. You are—were his most beautiful creation. He whispered the words to you while he painted your lips red and bid you to take a look in the mirror.

You agreed. You were so, so pretty.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t know what you look like anymore. You don’t want to look upon how rusted your clockwork inner workings have become. Your once pale and milky porcelain skin might be gray and slushy as the dirt along the pathways guests took, and that is not something you wish to know. There’s no doubt your red lips and silky red hair have been forsaken to the elements. You fear you are ruined.

You are now worthy of abandonment.

In the darkness, you truly are forgotten. A hitch within your clockwork chassis catches and grinds before continuing, but the scraping pain remains.

Your attention is drawn back to the front entrance, a good distance away from you. Half crumbled with support beats cutting over the access in an ‘X’ shape, like a warning to not trespass this decrepit lot, shadows slink over the splintered and rotted wood. Long, lanky umbras move with a silence that is so strange and careful.

You squint your eyes. The urge to tilt your head slightly to peer better at the disturbance is cut short by the bolt in your neck, refusing to let your head tilt save from a slight side to side to give an enthralling smile.

You shouldn’t get too excited. It’s likely mere animals. A pair of raccoons or a stray dog who has lost its owner. Once, you watched a doe deer step softly through the wretched ruins, big wet eyes turning to you for one moment before the blurt of your automated voice lines jumped from your throat and sent the creature bounding away.

Nothing is yours here, not even the moment of daydreaming of you prancing out of this forsaken carnival like a doe deer. Free.

The shadows mingle into the dusky darkness. The blue-gray twilight reveals figures, and your mechanical heart chokes.

Two personages creep along the path winding from the entranceway. The same path leading directly towards the ring toss game; towards you. One dons a thick hood and cape, dark blue like midnight. The other’s head is sharper and unconcealed. A crown of jutting points frame the figure’s disk-like face, and a thick deep brown shawl gathers at his throat and falls down his chest and arms.

As they pass into a silvery slant of budding starlight, metal glints on the crowned one’s face and the other hooded person’s hands spray out while scanning the darkness for threats, silver digits curling and uncurling.

Two automatons. Like you. But not.

A whirl in your servos thrums a loud, exhausted sound, and you stiffen—as much as you can while bolted in place.

What could two automatons want with an abandoned circus? You were never familiar with the world outside of your creator’s home before you were smuggled out against your will by the circus owner, but at the circus, you learned much.

You learned of scavengers and automatons gaining their rights. You always wonder if that’s partly the reason you were left here to rot too—are you too human now to own but robotic enough to be neglected?

They could spy on you in the darkness and decide to strip you for parts. Your clockwork clanks heavily within you like a clapper within a bell, beating against your brass heart. Can they hear it? You have to stop. Be quiet.

The two automatons prowl forward. Their optics and audio processors strain not unlike hounds searching for a fox. What do they prey upon? The crowned one gestures towards the carousel, the ride well within distance to your ring toss game, and you must clench your jaw tightly to keep from whimpering. The hooded one dips his head but keeps moving forward. Your gears crank in jarring motions, jolting and jerking while you hope they take the parts they desire from the circus and leave.

The hooded one continues down the path. Your chassis tightens, and your fingers tremble in place while you keep your eyes averted, held above the automaton’s head but keeping him in the unfocused corners of your optics.

Please. Please, don’t. Your bottom lip quivers.

��Step right up and toss a ring to win a prize!” The words blurt from your mouth and startle all the ruins and everyone within.

Two pairs of glowing eyes fall upon you. Straightening and alerted, the shrouded automatons stare into your fluttering eyelids as you attempt to beg them to leave you alone. A spark burns in your throat. Your voice lines refuse to give.

One stops and reaches silver and blue digits up and lowers the hood slowly. A face gazes at you, scarlet eyes glowing in the darkness with a face like a crescent moon. A blue nightcap, slightly frayed and worn, and decorated in yellow stars, covers his circular faceplate.

The other steps closer with a curious tilt of the sharp points framing the automation’s head, and enters the last of the blue-gray darkness before night completely takes over. A yellow face, grinning with round cheeks, observes you. Pale optics beam.

“Hello, friend,” he speaks, voice bouncing low but with intrigue. “Why don’t you come on out? It’s alright, don’t be afraid.”

Your optics dart side to side. Helplessness settles over you, pinned in place by rusty, dark shame.

“Do you need help?” The one with the pale yellow sun rays steps closer, his eyes narrowing in the slightest. “Are you stuck?”

The moon-face automaton slips closer. The glow of his gaze sweeps over the game you’re bolted in front of, and he fixates on your right arm stiffly held out in invitation as your fingers curl and clench. You glance down at him, wondering if your eyes plead in the way your mouth cannot.

Biting your bottom lip does not prevent another voice line from bursting forth, and inwardly, you crumple.

“Try your hand! One ring around the neck of a bottle wins a prize!”

“Not stuck,” the lunar automaton turns to his accomplice. His cloak shifts like shadows under the arc of the moon. “Trapped.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let us help.” The sunny one steps forward, his hands raised as if to pacify a wild creature. “And, if I may be so bold, your voice box sounds like it’s not your own.”

You wish to nod but only succeed in cranking your head halfway to the right, as if in a gesture towards your hapless situation.

You wonder if they can see the ugly, rusty bolts pinning your body in place, holding you shackled to the ring toss game. They must, for the lunar face man slips closer, stooping down by your feet behind the barrier as he inspects the heavy metal securing you in place. The solar gentleman energetically leaps over the barrier and stops right beside you, hand on his hips. His shawl drapes darkly around him but his grin is bright like a new dawn.

You don’t dare hope. The niceness will fall away like a curtain to reveal the snarling, roaring beast behind it. They will strip you for parts or worse, mock you, revel in your helplessness, and slip back through the night, leaving you with only the daydream of a rescue.

Facing the sunny one, you hold your metaphorical breath as he pauses. He stares deeply into your optics. You stare back into the foggy gray irises he possesses, like a cool, misty fog gathering in the night only to be touched by the sun’s first rays of light.

“Your eyes are beautiful—the same color as forget-me-nots.” The sunny automaton smiles.

Your servos slow to a calm hum.

“Come on,” he says and carefully reaches for your neck to begin unscrewing the bolt stuck in your throat, “You won’t be left to rust here anymore, starlight.”

Your insides melt, touched by their generosity.

Below, at your feet, the dark blue and silver automaton begins to unscrew the bolts holding your feet down. Rust scrapes away and a harsh squeak of metal echoes. You grunt, jostled but, strangely, you hold to hope like a feathered, tiny thing in your hands, hoping to watch it fly again.

“We can fix your voice box,” the lunar one speaks in a slight rasp you find endearing. His gaze remains focused on setting you free. “We have a shop. We repair things sometimes.”

“That’s right,” the solar one chimes in, “We scavenge as well. Don’t worry, we’ve repaired a few automatons or two. You can trust us.”

When he pries the bolt from your neck, you can dip your head in acknowledgment. A strange sensation burns through your wires, heating you from the inside out. Emotion. You wish you could ask for their names.

“You look very delicate.” The one at your feet finally frees one of your porcelain slippers with a slow, cautious tug. “We’ll be gentle.”

He tilts his head upwards and flashes a grin. You find yourself warming in the face. Is he being a tease or does he not know how he sounds? By the mischievous glint in your eyes, you fear he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You try to pry your lips apart to find the right words, but all that leaves you is “Enjoy lots of fun! For a small price, of course!”

The automaton of yellow and gray hues glances briefly at you, tilting his heading in confusion while he begins to loosen the bolt stabbed into your right elbow. Holding his gaze, you speak with your eyes, almost pleading.

What are your names?

A spark of understanding answers in his pale optics, and he gasps.

“Moon, where are our manners? I’m so sorry, starlight! My name is Sun, and this is Moon.”

You dip your head again, bobbing up and down in excitement. You know their names. You haven’t learned anything new about anyone in so long…

When they free you from the ring toss game, you can hardly believe how the muddy path now leads you to the outside of the circus as Sun holds you gently in his grasp, how their strides are sure-footed and smooth, and how they look at you with concern.

You vow silently to speak their names the moment your voice is free too.

You haven’t seen anything outside of the carnival in so long, you’ve almost forgotten the sight of dark, shiny paved streets and the lone lamp posts that light the way. Gray and dreary buildings line the streets. One, however, is cheerfully plastered in wooden stars painted bright yellow, and the door is a soft, sky blue with white fluffy clouds along the very top.

Sun and Moon take turns carrying you. Their hands are careful, cradling you close against their cloak and shawl while murmuring that it’s alright. You’re safe. They’ll get you fixed up in no time. Moon cradles you in his arms now as Sun unlocks the door, and holds it open so you can be carried over the threshold.

For an odd reason, it triggers your faceplate to heat up more than the colored rouge on the porcelain should allow.

Through the door, the interior of the workshop is set with tools ranging from smallest to biggest, shelves containing boxes marked, and small containers with different, shiny nuts and bolts. There are even some small containers with shiny, bronze gears. You haven’t seen a spotless floor in so long. There were always leaves and mud staining the path serpentining through the carnival.

A table, coppery under a work lamp, awaits.

“I’m setting you here,” Moon murmurs close to your audio processor before he lays you softly down with a gentle click of your frame against the metal.

“I worry about how long you were left there.” Sun loses the shawl and locates a brown leather apron. Tools line the pockets as he swiftly ties it behind his back. His eyes are creased though he still smiles reassuringly. “By the amount of rust, I would guess years. For your sake, I hope I’m wrong.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. What comes out instead is a showy voice declaring “Whoever can ring three bottles wins the ultimate prize!”

A whirl in your servos practically screams out your embarrassment. You lower your gaze. The stiffness in your joints is almost as unbearable as the voice lines the circus owner forced upon you.

“Shush,” Moon says, his cloak falling away as he snags an apron similar to Sun’s off of a hook. “Wait for a moment, pretty thing, then you may have your words back.”

“That’s right,” Sun nods and shifts to stand close beside you. He grows still for a moment, his bright disposition falling behind a somber cloud. “We’re very lucky to have found you.”

You smile—not the forced, showy smile that has been plastered on your face while you lie in the ruins, but a true smile for the ones who rescued you.

Moon moves to the other side of the table. His hands, now gloved in black leather, hesitate.

“We will open you up now.” The automaton turns flush along the spindle support of his neck. “Is that alright? It’s the only way we can fix your voice box.”

Sun leans forward, his smile still cheery while he modestly averts his eyes, “As well any other damage done from being exposed and negligent for… however long you were out there.”

You never thought the solar automaton could be shy, and yet.

You nod your head as it rests on the table. You feel safe, so much more so than when you were bolted in place. The circus owner did not ask you what you wanted then.

Moon and Sun move in tandem. It’s strange and beautiful, how effortlessly they weave their fingers to begin work. Sun unlocks your chassis and Moon gently lifts it open. You throw your gaze to the ceiling. You don’t want to know. You know they will find it horrible and awful, but you don’t want to see it and have it seared into your mind.

“You’re beautiful,” Moon utters.

You blink, as breathless as a machine can become.

“Your clockwork—is very beautiful,” a slight stumble from his raspy voice seals your fate. You say nothing. You press your lips together and wonder if you might overheat right here and now.

“You are pretty,” Sun continues effortlessly, though there’s a slight trill to his voice that may give away his nervousness or bashfulness, you can’t decide. “Clockwork automatons are rare.”

The circus owner made mention of that.

You close your eyes as Sun and Moon narrate their every movement. Hands held down by your sides, you only occasionally shift or softly buzz as they clean and fix your voice box nestled within the bottom of your throat. They are so gentle. You never knew hands could be so kind, even if they are rummaging through your inner workings.

Could they possibly let you stay?

The absurd thought enters your processor and you almost immediately shove it into a box and bury it deep into cold, black soil.

“You’re doing so good.” Sun grins as he looks down into your chassis. “There. That should do it. Moon?”

“I’m done.”

Slowly, carefully, as if finishing a sacred rite, the two close up your chassis and tighten it back into place. You haven’t opened your eyes yet. A part of you wonders if you’ll only look out into the ruins of the circus again, and find this was all one blissful moment of a daydream.

“Can you say something, starlight?” Sun’s voice washes over you.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready,” Moon answers in a low sound of comfort.

It falls past your lips before you realize you are not ready, but you so terribly want to speak anyway.

“Thank you.” Your eyes flash open, and you gape—the echo. Your soft, demure tones no longer strained into shouting and calling attention.

It’s you.

Your hand touches your lips, and a sound between a laugh and a sob emerges from your voice box.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You look between the two of them, overwhelmed. With the overhead lamp now touching their features as they sit back, grinning, you get to admire their handsome features.

You two are very striking.

“Oh, my,” Sun chuckles, bleeding red in the cheeks, “Thank you!”

“You’re very sweet,” Moon murmurs, touching his nightcap with a slight bashfulness.

And you realize you spoke your thoughts out loud. You called them striking.

“Oh,” you begin to burn.

“It’s alright,” Moon says swiftly, interrupting your apology. “We would like to know what your plans are after this. Now that you’re free.”

“Free,” you whisper back. You clutch at your chest, over your clockwork heart, and marvel. “I…”

You have your voice back. Use it.

“I—if I may be so bold, may I ask to stay with you both? I won’t be a burden. I won’t stay longer than you will allow, and I—”

Sun sighs, dramatic and cheerful, as he finds your hand to hold it.

“I thought you would never ask, starlight!”

Moon’s hand slips under your anxious fingers. His nod echoes his solar counterpart’s enthusiasm. You turn your head between both of them, your lips parting in awe.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Sun. Moon. Thank you.”

#naff's writing commissions #some cute scavengers find you and rescue you from an abandoned circus wdyd?#loved writing this <3 #naff writing

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bouncinghedgehog · 5 months ago

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"Many have passed away, and those who are still here are called

"the elderly.""

We were born in the 40s-50s-60s.

We grew up in the 50's-60's-70's

We studied in the 60s-70s-80s.

We were together in the 70s-80s-90s.

We got married or not and discovered the world in the 70s-80s-90s.

Adventuring into the 80s - 90s

We're settling in to the 2000s.

We became wiser in 2010s.

And we’re going strong into 2020 and beyond.

Turns out we went through EIGHT different decades...

TWO different centuries...

TWO different millennials...

We've gone from phone with operator for long distance calls, pay booths, video calls worldwide.

We’ve gone from slides to YouTube, vinyls to online music, handwritten letters to emails and Whats App.

Live games on the radio, black and white TV, color TV, then HD 3D TV.

We went to the video store and now watching Netflix.

We've known the first computers, punch cards, disks and now we have gigabytes and megabytes on our smartphones.

We wore shorts all through our childhood, then trousers, ep pants or mini-skirts, Oxfords, Clarks, Palestinian scarves, jumpsuits, and blue jeans.

We avoided childhood paralysis, meningitis, poliomyelitis, tuberculosis, swine flu and now COVID-19.

We've done roller skating, roller skating, tricycle, bicycle, moped, gasoline or diesel and now we drive hybrids or electric.

We played with the little ones

horses and checkers, ostrich and marbles, 1000 threshold and monopoly, now there's candy crush on our smartphones

And we read... much

And our schoolmates religion was not a subject...

We used to drink tap water and lemonade in glass bottles, and the vegetables on our plate were always fresh, today we get meals delivered

Yes, we have been through a lot but what a beautiful life we have had!

They might describe us as “ex-annuals”; people who were born in this 50s world, who had an analog childhood and digital adulthood.

We should add the Biological Revolution that we have witnessed. In 1960, biology was very descriptve. We have witnessed the event of Molecular Biology: the molecules of Life have been discovered: DNA, RNA etc. When you see everything that has come from it: gene therapy, gene fingerprints, and others the progress is considerable.

We kind of have "seen it all"!

Our generation has literally lived and witnessed more than any other in every dimension of life.

This is our generation that has literally adapted to "CHANGE".

A big congratulations to all the members of a very special generation, which will be UNIQUE.. "

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sunshine-is-a-gaslight · 2 months ago

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Watching people who don't get allegories for addiction try to understand allegories for addiction is kind of funny but also infuriating because half this website doesn't actually understand his songs

WILLIAM TAPEWORM FEAR

6up 5oh - hunt

skeleton appreciation - flesh

front street - slaughter + corruption???

aikido! - lonely + web

white knuckle - web

a little bit mine - desolation + lonely

thermodynamic - corruption

red moon - dark

lysergide daydream - spiral

the first step - web

jimmy - end + vast bc ocean?????

chemical - spiral + desolation

everything is a lot - end

destroy to enjoy - extinction

self - stranger

2012 - extinction

cotard’s solution - spiral + end + stranger

five names - spiral + stranger + buried

hand me my shovel - buried

dr sunshine - dark

ish - end

#not trying to fight i just need you and others to consider the fact will is recovering and alludes to that very heavily in his music #i agree with a lot of these points tho #will wood stuff #possible disk horse #“im the only one who understands him” aah behavior once again from yours trutly (me)

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defjux · 19 days ago

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Here's 100 of the albums from 2024 that i''ve enjoyed the most: 50 hip hop records, and 50 albums in other genres. There's still a ton of stuff I haven't gotten to yet or need to revisit, but i'm feeling pretty good about this and don't think too much would change aside from the order. Insane year for music overall, and surely there will still be some big releases in the next two months. Biggest surprise for me was definitely The Cure making a comeback after almost two decades and putting out their best album since Wish. I'm also convinced that Robert Smith is an actual vampire. he still sounds great after all this time. Charts with album titles included Again, i'm sure there's plenty of stuff that has gone under the radar for me so as always i'm open to recommendations. Let me know what your favorite records are, i'd genuinely like to know. I'll post the list of albums below, and maybe at the end of the year will do some kind of spotify playlist with one or two songs from each. Peace.

Hip hop:

ELUCID - REVELATOR

Ka - The Thief Next To Jesus

AKAI SOLO - DREAMDROPDRAGON

Mach-Hommy- #RICHAXXHAITIAN

Cavalier - Different Type Time

The Fortunate Ones - RESIN

Armand Hammer - BLK LBL

Dead Players - Faster Than the Speed of Death

ShrapKnel - Nobody Planning To Leave

Sunmundi & klwn cat - Lived and Born

Desert Camo - Desert Camo

Nakama - EMBERGO_

Lee Scott - To Tame A Dead Horse

Joshua Virtue - Black Box: JOSHUA IS DEAD

Freddie Gibbs - You Only Die ince

Navy Blue - Memoirs in Armour

Phiik & Lungs - Carrot Season

Nickelus F - MMCHT

Nuse Tyrant - Juxtaposed Echoes

Mary Sue - Voice Memos From A Winter In China

DJ Muggs & Raz Fresco - The Eternal Now

Revival Season - Golden Age of Self Snitching

Midnight Sons - Money Has No Owners

Tyler, the Creator - Chromakopia

Sasco - The Hottest Year on Record

Boldy James & Conductor Williams - Across The Tracks

Hester Valentine - Valenta

Mavi - Shadowbox

Serengeti - KDIV

JPEGMAFIA - I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU

Rap Man Gavin & postureless - Memories, Dreams, Reflections

yungmorpheus - WAKING UP AND CHOOSING VIOLENCE

Sadistik & Maulskull - Oblivion Theater

Roc Marciano - MARCIOLOGY

R.A.P. Ferreira - the First Fist to Make Contact When We Dap

Deca & Dealz - Bough

Nxworries - WHY LAWD?

Oddisee - And Yet Still

Rich Jones & SINAI. - Sour Dub

Lupe Fiasco - Samurai

Noveliss & Hir-O - Cyberpunk Rhapsody

Cavalier & Quelle Chris - Death Tape 2: We Gon' Need Each Other

Killah Priest - Abraxas Rebis Simha Pleroma

Vince Staples - Dark Times

Kooley High & Tuamie - All Infinite

MIKE & Tony Seltzer - Pinball

Daniel Son & Futurewave - BUSHMAN BODEGA

Vic Spencer & August Fanon - Psychological Cheat Sheet 5

Jack Jetson & Illinformed - Winter Forever

bromethugzine - THUG ZINE issue 002: WORLD-SPIRIT

Everything else:

Chelsea Wolfe - She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She

Iglooghost - Tidal Memory Exo

chat pile - Cool World

Frail Body - Artificial Bouquet

The Cure - Songs Of A Lost World

Trauma Ray - Chameleon

Terry Green - PROVISIONAL LIVING

Gouge Away - Deep Sage

Thou - Umbilical

ØKSE - ØKSE

Tenue - Arcos, bóvedas, pórticos

Krallice - Inorganic Rites

Nala Sinephro - Endlessness

Punchlove - Channels

Milton Nascimento & Esperanza Spalding - Milton + esperanza

Arooj Aftab - Night Reign

Hammok - Look How Long Lasting Everything Is Moving Forward For Once

Blood Incantation - Absolute Elsewhere

Crumb - AMAMA

Kamasi Washington - Fearless Novement

Fievel Is Glauque - Rong Weicknes

Camila Bañados - Viento 1.

julie - my anti-aircraft friend

Oranssi Pazuzu - Muuntautuja

Skee Mask - Resort

Mary Halvorson - Cloudward

Infant Island - Obsidian wreath

Blushing - Sugarcoat

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024 28,340 DEAD

MAGDALENA BAY - Imaginal Disk

Leaving Time - Angel in the Sand

Joel Ross - nublues

Both Gibbons - Lives Outgrown

geordie greep - The New Sound

Nilüfer Yanya - My Method Actor

Nails - Every Bridge Burning

Hiatus Kaiyote Love Heart Cheat Code

Liana Flores Flower of the soul

Babii - Daredeviil2000

Blind Girls - An Exit Exists

HERIOT - Devoured by the Mouth of Hell

Julia Holter - Something in the Room She Moves

Cindy Lee - Diamond Jubilee

Melt-Banana - 3+5

Ulcerate - Cutting The Throat Of God

Spirit of the Beehive - YOU'LL HAVE TO LOSE SOMETHING

Hannah Frances - Keeper of the Shepherd

Ginger Root -Shinbanguni

Martha Skye Murphy - Um

Pluma - Não Leve a Mal

#music recommendations #music recs #aoty 2024 #2024 album of the year #chelsea wolfe #ELUCID #brownsville ka #AKAI SOLO #iglooghost #chat pile #frail body #the cure #cavalier #armand hammer #trauma ray #mach-hommy

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