#music extracted by fans

[roennq]

The Music of The Musketeers

Part Two: The Musketeers' Theme

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♮ ���

Series One There is no official Series One soundtrack, so I'm eternally grateful to the fans who took the time to extract parts of the score from various episodes. The pieces aren't perfect but they're still great, and beats the alternative of having absolutely no soundtrack for the season.

The unreleased music below, Fight at the Garrison, is from Episode 1 Friends and Enemies, where d’Artagnan confronts Athos (and meets his future brothers!) at the garrison. The theme starts around 0:59, after the classic scene of the boys crossing ⚔️ at the table.

[And before that, if you listen hard enough, you can hear Athos say, "Don't make me kill you over a mistake." 😉]

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯

Series Two and Three The show got a new hero theme after Paul Englishby took over from Murray Gold as series composer. Variations of The Musketeers can be heard in most of the compositions for Series Two and Three, from exhilarating (They Are Here Somewhere, Refugees) to inspiring (The Ravine, Series Three Finale) to poignant (Training the Village, We Refuse to Die).

Would have loved for the theme to be longer but hey, it's an official release (yay!) and there's always the replay button. [It also makes a great ring tone.]

Enjoy!

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯

Fun Fact Both finales of Series Two (2x10 Trial and Punishment) and Three (3x10 We are the Garrison) are the only episodes to use a variation of Paul Englishby's The Musketeers for the closing credits instead of Murray Gold's opening theme.

Next: The Ravine Part One

[chicknparm]

I am the only person on earth who is Normal about Taylor Swift.

[stars-and-birds]

PLEASE reblog im super duper curious

[currebunz]

Captured (Kenji Sato x singer!Reader)

A/N: I just wanted to write something after watching the movie. Considering making a proper story but I dunno :P

It had all happened so quickly, the drones surrounding your car and the men dragging you into an unmarked vehicle. Your phone was taken and your secretary was left frazzled as you were abducted by a mysterious group. It wasn’t until you were in the car did you realize who had taken you. The panic wore off as you steeled yourself the best you could. The KDF had acted upon the suspicions you had been warned about. Then you were blindfolded and presumably taken to their base.

When your sight returned, you were in an interrogation room of some sort. It was obvious by the one table and two chairs. Surveillance cameras in the corners and the one way out of the room. If it wasn’t, then it was your prison. The door opened and the tall presence of Dr. Onda entered the room.

“I’m sure you have your questions, so do we” he began.

You kept calm, not wanting to show fear or nervousness. You know why you were here.

“Let’s not beat around the bush, I saw you with the infant kaiju. Where is it hiding?” Onda demanded.

A monitor brought up the event from a few nights ago. The baby kaiju that you had only recently met, it had gone on a rampage at night as Onda had put it. The creature had been attracted to your concert and jumped over the venue walls to join you on stage.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you said plainly.

“You cannot deny the evidence, it was familiar with you” Onda accused you.

“Hello? I am the number one on the charts right now. I’m sure my music reached the baby at some point. My music videos are being played all over Tokyo” you argued.

“How do you explain your reaction? You didn’t run from the infant” Onda continued.

You kept your face still and calm. In your head, you thought of the baby Kaiju and Kenji. You were determined to protect both of them.

“Dr. Onda, just like with any other attack my fans hold priority for me over my own safety. I was scared, but I needed to ensure my fans had time to evacuate. Even if it meant being in the line of fire. I do this all the time” you explained.

Of course he knew, there was an ongoing buzz in your fanbase about kaijus enjoying your music. It didn’t bother you one bit, especially after meeting the cutest one you had ever seen before.

“Then you sympathize with these monsters? Is that why you hide the infant?” Onda continued to press.

“If the kaiju had attacked me or my fans, I would have felt some sort of way about it. But you can see clearly on the footage, the baby started dancing. It was singing along, not trying to hurt anyone” you said firmly.

Onda paused, letting the camera footage replay once more. You were still singing on stage as the pink baby kaiju screeched and chirped along with the beat. It was clumsy, but the creature had a vague understanding of the choreography. As if practiced.

“If you won’t tell us, I have my ways of extracting the truth from you” Onda warned.

“You can’t hold me here without reason for arrest, I’ll throw the book at you as many times as I have to” you shot back.

“I’ll have you know the KDF acts above the law” Onda smirked.

“And if you knew anything about musicians, you would know we have a reputation of not giving a fuck about authority figures” you said confidently.

Onda must have realized this was going nowhere as his smile fell. He stopped the camera footage and made his exit.

“I’ll give you time to think about it, surely you will make the right choice once you have cleared your head” he said as the door shut.

Now that he was gone, you let out a deep sigh. How were you getting out of this one?

____

It hit him hard hearing that you were kidnapped. Mina had found surveillance footage of you being dragged away. The panicked look on your face made his heart clench. Even the baby had let out a sad screech, clawing at the refined glass walls of her containment unit. The moment Kenji saw the footage end, he was storming to the exit.

“Wait, Kenji!” Professor Sato stopped his son.

“I can’t wait! Don’t you know what they will do?!” he shouted.

“I know that, but you can’t just break in as Ultraman. We need a plan” the professor said firmly.

Kenji could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. As much as it pained him, his father was right. He probably wouldn’t be able to maintain his Ultraman form in this state.

“Then what do we do?” he asked.

“We do what we can, Mina. Hack the systems and get me eyes inside the base” Professor Sato requested.

“Very well” Mina responded.

“Hack? Dad, is that even legal?” Kenji asked in shock.

“Legality was thrown out the minute they abducted [y/n]” Professor Sato said.

Kenji felt a bit of hope, it had been a long time since he saw his dad like this. He watched as the camera feed showed up in front of them. It cycled through rooms until they found you. They watched the interrogation with Onda, proud of your strong reply.

“I knew they wouldn’t break [y/n]” Kenji smiled proudly.

“Reminds me of your mother, tough as nails” Professor Sato agreed.

The cameras began to feed other rooms as Professor Sato mapped a way out.

“It’s possible I can guide [y/n] out of there. It will be difficult and we will have to believe in [y/n]’s ability to make it out. But that's all we got” he continued.

“What can I do?” Kenji asked.

“You are going to be the getaway driver, get ready to rendezvous outside the base” Professor Sato ordered.

“Got it, Mina, keep me in the loop and send camera feed to my watch” Kenji requested.

“Already on it” Mina said.

____

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but your mind was getting fuzzy. Just being in the room was unsettling and you wanted to get out. You had tried to look for a way out but there was none other than the locked door. The cameras followed your movement, stripping away what little privacy you had left. They gave you back your phone, but there was no reception at all. The device was just a heavy bar in your hand at this point.

“[y/n]!” a familiar voice hissed.

You turned your head to the monitor in the room, it looked turned off but you were sure you heard a voice.

“Don’t look, pretend like you don’t hear us. I’m taking the cameras down in a second so you need to work fast” Professor Sato explained.

You nodded, not wanting to seem suspicious. You waited until he gave the signal and then rushed over to the monitor.

“There isn’t a lot of time to explain, but I am going to guide you out of the base. Follow the map I am sending to your phone-”

“My phone doesn’t have a signal?” you began.

“It’s jammed, I can only shut down the jammer for a second so keep the image up” Professor Sato said.

Sure enough, a strange map was sent to your phone. It looked like a maze to you but there was a portion lit up with a bright color.

“Follow this path, I will keep an eye on you and use their systems to warn you. But you must go now!” he warned.

“But what about when I get out?” you asked frantically.

“Kenji will be waiting for you,” Professor Sato said before disconnecting.

The door to the room slid open and you could hear sirens wailing. Spurred by the thought of meeting with Kenji, you started to run. The halls felt like they went on for miles, barren with solid colors and a few lights. If you weren’t careful, you could easily get lost in the minimalist design of the base. Occasionally, you could hear Professor Sato over the speakers in the base direct you to change paths to avoid guards. However, it was inevitable that you would run into someone.

“I found the captive!” the guard shouted.

You didn’t stop running, charging at the man and sliding on the floor. You used the momentum and the weight of your body to crash into his legs, sending him onto the floor. You quickly recovered, stumbling as you tried to maintain the speed and fix your running stance. The halls began to turn and soon you found yourself in a different area. All you could do was hope that it was closer to the entrance.

More guard appeared and the ground began to descend, a trap to keep you from getting past them. But you let the floor get low enough that you could jump on their helmets like stepping stones to cross the divide. You jumped, just barely making it onto the edge and kept running. Your heart was beating in your chest and your throat burned like it was on fire. You wanted to stop, you wanted to rest.

But Kenji was waiting for you.

That spurred you on until you were sure you were nearing the exit and entrance. Professor Sato’s words of encouragement reassured you as you ran and jumped over the guard’s gate. The sunset blinded you as you kept running, until you heard the rev of an engine. A large shadow filled your vision as your eyes adjusted to the brightness. A hand was extended out to you.

“Let’s get out of here”

You could see Kenji’s smile and grasp his hand tightly. He pulled you onto the back of his bike and you held on for dear life. You kept your eyes closed as your hands dug into his toned body. Your face was pressed into his back and you inhaled his scent. It was all you could do to try and calm yourself. At least until you were sure you were safe. When the ride came to an end, you were at Kenji’s place. You climbed off the bike and Kenji removed his helmet frantically.

“Oh my god! You were amazing, I saw everything! You were so, so-” Kenji’s voice died off as he finally looked at you properly.

Your shoulders were shaking, your hands clasped together but still shaking. Your pupils were blown and your breathing unsteady.

“You were scared…” he finished as he realized the gravity of the situation.

“Kenji…. Ken…” you tried to speak properly.

You reached a hand out, but then brought it back to your body. But it was too late, he had already seen it. Kenji’s larged hand closer around your wrist and he pulled you into him. He had been a bit forceful, making your cheek tender as your face was thrust into his chest. You could hear his frantic heartbeat, it nearly matched yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whispered into your hair.

“Ken…”

“It’s all my fault, I should have been there to protect you”

“Ken?...”

“I won’t let it happen again, I promise you that-”

You tighten your hands on his shirt, balling his shirt into your fists.

“Can we just… go inside for now?” you asked.

Kenji pulled back, looking deeply into your eyes. He could see the worry still in them, he was being selfish with his guilt and ignoring your anxiety.

“Y-Yeah, yeah! Let’s go inside the house. Dad, Mina and the baby want to see you too” Kenji stammered out as he pulled you along to the door.

You let out a shaky breath, his grip kept you grounded as you felt like you would fall apart in a second. Kenji was your lifeline right now, and you were grateful for it.

[96z]

this is the last thing i'll say but honestly, to me this situation is just another glaring example of how hybe's greed has poisoned the entire kpop industry. like, seriously, the way they’re running things is insane and it’s honestly destroying what once made kpop special.

hybe's unchecked dominance has become a poison in the industry. they’ve not only swallowed up smaller companies but have also monopolized platforms and resources, leaving a massive footprint that stifles diversity and creativity. remember when kpop felt like this vibrant, diverse world full of different sounds and styles? now it’s just a hybe-centric machine, churning out cookie-cutter idols and soulless hits, all for the sake of squeezing every last cent from fans.

it’s not just about the music anymore—it’s about the bottom line. and hybe’s obsession with profit has shifted the focus entirely. their approach seems to be about creating a product rather than nurturing genuine talent, and it’s showing. we’ve got groups and artists who are more brand assets than actual musicians, and the whole industry is losing its soul.

and let’s talk about their grasping at every single opportunity to make money. it's overcharging for albums, it's the insanely priced concert tickets, hybe has set a new standard for squeezing fans dry. it’s not just about supporting your favorite artists anymore; it’s about participating in a system designed to extract as much as possible.

the rise of hybe has shifted the entire narrative of k-pop. we used to see variety and innovation, but now it’s all about the same glossy, over-polished products with no room for real experimentation. it’s like they’ve drained the life out of the industry, leaving us with this homogenized, corporate-driven shell of what kpop used to be.

when i'm talking about how kpop isn’t the same, it’s not just nostalgia talking. it’s about how a single company’s greed has changed the entire landscape. and honestly, it’s a shame. we’ve watched as the heart and soul of kpop has been slowly eroded by hybe’s relentless pursuit of power and money.

and let’s not forget the utter lack of accountability for idols, especially the biggest names in hybe’s roster. it’s almost as if these idols are untouchable, the way their fans clear searches, flood the socials with ‘__ we love you’ and ‘apologize to __’ posts is maddening. why are these grown adults are allowed to hide behind their fanbase and evade any real responsibility?

it’s a disturbing trend where serious issues are brushed aside because the fans are doing the dirty work of cleaning up their mess. idols can act without consequences, knowing that their fanbase, and if not their fanbase, their company will do everything in their power to shield them from backlash. the lack of accountability is staggering—these idols can get away with anything because their fanbase’s loyalty means they never face the repercussions of their actions.

at the end of the day... it’s okay to criticize and question the things we love. because if we don’t, we’re just letting this monster ruin everything we cherish.

[moonastro]

ASTROLOGY notes Pt.1

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ✶ random notes and observations ✶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

❥ what i realised from observing celebrity charts, Chiron conjunct MC may bring fame but in exchange fans may know a lot about your wounded areas or generally may know a lot about the individual ( including a lot of transformative area of their lives). They become almost like a mentor in the eyes of their fans. The individual with Chiron conjunct MC may be a comfort person to a lot of people.

�� lord of your Vedic 5th bouse determines how you'll act when becoming a parent.

For example, in 2nd house, individual may gain wealth through having children. Children may be valued, may find sudden fulfilment through becoming a parent.

In 6th house, may bring a lot of health issues to the parent or the child as it is seen as a hard house in Vedic astrology. It can bring unexpected bills to the parent after having children also.

In 12th house, may bring mental health issues to the parent or child, also isolation can be a big issue here. Is also seen as a difficult house to have 5th lord in. May be some confusion when communicating to the child.

❥ Planets near the MC line (if no planets check the IC) can determine and help to figure what career path may be best for you.

-For example, individuals with Moon near the MC line (or IC) can be seen working as a marine, cooks, nurses, working with women, travelling (flight attendant), restaurants.

-With Venus near the MC line, something to do with beauty, music, entertainment, hotels, luxuries, art, pleasures.

-Mars near MC line may suggest working with metal, construction, police, surgeons, engineers, vehicles, a lot of energy, weapons, soldiers.

❥ If no planets near MC or IC line in natal chart, observe where there is a cluster in a particular house with multiple of planets.

-For example, if most planets are in fifth house, expect your work to do something with politics, religious rituals, entertainment, authorship, stockbrokers.

-Planets clustered in 11th house, individuals may work as accountants, in group work, trade and business, financial institution.

-In first, may be self employed, working with the body(like gym, health club, model etc.) politics, publicity.

❥ ALSOOO. The sign in which the cluster of planets are occurring at may also be significant.

-For example, lots of planets in libra, may suggest jobs to do with artists, fashion, advertising, interior design, receptionists, judges, cosmetics, prostitutes.

-Multiple planets in the sign of Scorpio, may relate to drugs, chemicals, scientists, liquids, doctors, nurses, police, occult, insurance.

-In Capricorn, may manifest mining, raw materials, lumber, extraction and processing.

images are not mine

❥ Mars in 7th house individuals loveee to argue, they find it really entertaining.

❥ moon in Scorpio individuals tend to have a missing relationship with masculine figures. its more of an on and off relationship.

❥ what i have learned from Vedic astrology is that planets have cast spell aspects.

-For example Saturn has three aspects and they are 3rd, 7th and 10th house away from itself.

-So say you have saturn in the 5th house. saturn will also have influence on the 7th, 11th and 2nd house in your chart. so if you are studying saturn in your chart, these aspects will also be important.

❥ Virgo placements like to touch but don't necessarily liked to be touched by other people. For example, they might love to massage your head with their fingers or like to carefully stroke your palm and so on.

❥ so saturn rules restrictions, limitations, longevity and so on. so what house saturn is in will determine what will take longer for you to master in your life.

-For example, saturn in 10th house individuals may struggle to find a job at a young age.

-saturn in 7th house people may have difficulty with relationships and may not date until they actually get married.

-saturn in 11th house, this may bring tension and problems relating to social groups and friends. the individual may have difficulty with friendships and may be unfamiliar with big group setting.

⤷ don't forget that overtime saturn matures in your chart and brings LONGEVITY and success in that house its in. Of course aspects are really important as well.

That is it everyonee!! ❣

I hope you enjoyed this post. 🌠

Thank you for reading and once again don't be shy to give feedback as i would really appreciate it. 🌝

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Live Nation/Ticketmaster is buying Congress

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me THURSDAY (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. Monopolies are intrinsically destabilizing and inevitably implode…eventually. Guessing which of the loathesome monopolies that make us all miserable will be the first domino is a hard call, but Ticketmaster is definitely high on my list.

It's not that event tickets are the most consequential aspect of our lives. The monopolies over pharma, fuel, finance, tech, and even beer are all more important to our day-to-day. But while Ticketmaster – and its many ramified tentacles, like Live Nation – may not be the most destructive monopoly in our world, but it pisses off people with giant megaphones and armies of rabid fans.

It's been a minute since Ticketmaster was last in the news, so let's recap. Ticketmaster bought out most of its ticketing rivals, then merged with Live Nation, the country's largest concert promoter, and bought out many of the country's largest music, stage and sports venues. They used this iron grip on the entire supply chain for performances and events to pile innumerable junk fees on every ticket sold, while drastically eroding the wages of the creative workers they nominally represented. They created a secret secondary market for tickets and worked with ticket-touts to help them run bots that bought every ticket within an instant of the opening of ticket sales, then ran an auction marketplace that made them gigantic fees on every re-sold ticket – fees the performers were not entitled to share in.

The Ticketmaster/Live Nation/venue octopus is nearly impossible to escape. Independent venues can't book Live Nation acts unless they use Ticketmaster for their tickets. Acts can't get into the large venues owned by Ticketmaster unless they sign up to have Live Nation book their tour. And when Ticketmaster buys a venue, it creams off the most successful acts, starving competing venues of blockbuster shows. They also illegally colluded with their vendors to jack up the price of concerts across the board:

https://pascrell.house.gov/uploadedfiles/ful.pdf

When Rebecca Giblin and I were writing Chokepoint Capitalism, our book about how tech and entertainment monopolies impoverish all kinds of creative workers, we were able to get insiders to go on record about every kind of monopoly, from the labels to Spotify, Kindle to the Big Five publishers and the Google-Meta ad-tech duopoly. The only exception was Ticketmaster/Live Nation: everyone involved in live performance – performers, bookers, club owners – was palpably terrified about speaking out on the record about the conglomerate:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

No wonder. The company has a long and notorious history of using its market power to ruin anyone who challenges it. Remember Pearl Jam?

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/pearl-jam-taking-on-ticketmaster-67440/

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. Not only is Ticketmaster a rapacious, vindictive monopolist – it's also an incompetent monopolist, whose IT systems are optimized for rent-extraction first, with ticket sales as a distant afterthought. This is bad no matter which artist it effects, but when Ticketmaster totally, utterly fucked up Taylor Swift's first post-lockdown tour, they incurred the wrath of the Swifties:

https://www.vox.com/culture/2022/11/21/23471763/taylor-swift-ticketmaster-monopoly

All of which explains why I've always given good odds that Ticketmaster would be first up against the wall come the antitrust revolution. It may not be the most destructive monopolist, but it is absurdly evil, and the people who hate it most are the most famous and beloved artists in the country.

For a while, it looked like I was right. Ticketmaster's colossal Taylor Swift fuckup prompted Senator Amy Klobuchar – a leading antitrust crusader – to hold hearings on the company's conduct, and led to the introduction of a raft of bills to rein in predatory ticketing practices. But as David Dayen writes for The American Prospect, Ticketmaster/Live Nation is spreading a fortune around on the Hill, hiring a deep bench of ex-Congressmen and ex-senior staffers (including Klobuchar's former chief of staff) and they've found a way to create the appearance of justice without having to suffer any consequences for their decades-long campaign of fraud and abuse:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-04-30-live-nation-strikes-up-band-washington/

Dayen opens his article with the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, which is always bracketed by a week's worth of lavish parties for Congress and hill staffers. One of the fanciest of these parties was thrown by Axios – and sponsored by Live Nation, with a performance by Jelly Roll (whose touring contract is owned by Live Nation). Attendees at the Axios/Live Nation event were bombarded with messages about the essential goodness of Live Nation (they were even printed on the cocktail napkins) and exhortations to support the Fans First Act, co-sponsored by Klobuchar and Sen John Cornyn (R-TX):

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/08/arts/music/fans-first-act-ticket-bill.html

Ticketmaster/Live Nation loves the Fans First Act, because – unlike other bills – it focuses primarily on the secondary market for tickets, and its main measure is a requirement for ticketing companies to disclose their junk fees upfront. Neither of these represents a major challenge to Ticketmaster/Live Nation's control over the market, which gives it the ability to slash performers' wages while jacking up prices for fans.

Fans First represents the triumph of Ticketmaster/Live Nation's media strategy, which is to blame the entire problem on bottom-feeding ticket-touts (who are mostly scum!) instead of on the single monopoly that controls the entire industry and can't stop committing financial crimes.

Axios isn't Live Nation's only partner in selling this distraction tactic. Over the past five years, the company has flushed gigantic sums of money through Washington. Its lobbying spend rose from $240k in 2018 to $1.1m in 2022, and $2.38m in 2023:

https://thehill.com/business/4431886-live-nation-doubled-lobbying-spending-to-2-4m-in-2023-amid-antitrust-threat/

The company has 37 paid lobbyists selling Congress on its behalf. 25 of them are former congressional staffers. Two are former Congressmen: Ed Whitfield (R-KY), a 21 year veteran of the House, and Mark Pryor (D-AR), a two-term senator:

https://www.bhfs.com/people/attorneys/p-s/mark-pryor

But perhaps the most galling celebrant in this lavish hymn to Citizen United is Jonathan Becker, Amy Klobuchar's former chief of staff, who jumped ship to lobby Congress on behalf of monopolists like Live Nation, who paid him $120k last year to sell their story to the Hill:

https://www.opensecrets.org/federal-lobbying/clients/lobbyists?cycle=2023&id=D000053134

Not everyone hates Fans First: it's been endorsed by the Nix the Tix coalition, largely on the strength of its regulation of secondary ticket sales. But the largest secondary seller in America by far is Live Nation itself, with a $4.5b market in reselling the tickets it sold in the first place. Fans First shifts focus from this sleazy self-dealing to competitors like Stubhub.

Fans First can be seen as an opening salvo in the long war against Ticketmaster/Live Nation. But compared to more muscular bills – like Klobuchar's stalled-out Unlock Ticketing Markets Act, it's pretty weaksauce. The Unlocking act will "prevent exclusive contracts between ticketing services and venues" – hitting Ticketmaster/Live Nation where it hurts, right in the bank-account:

https://www.klobuchar.senate.gov/public/index.cfm/2023/4/following-senate-judiciary-committee-hearing-klobuchar-blumenthal-introduce-legislation-to-increase-competition-in-live-event-ticketing-markets

It's not all gloom. Dayen reports that Ticketmaster's active lobbying in favor of Fans First has made many in Congress more skeptical of the bill, not less. And Congress isn't the only – or even the best – way to smash Ticketmaster's criminal empire. That's something the DoJ's antitrust division could power through with a lot less exposure to the legalized bribery that dominates Congress.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/30/nix-fix-the-tix/#something-must-be-done-there-we-did-something

Image: Matt Biddulph (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/mbiddulph/13904063945/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

--

Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[7grandmel]

Character Archives - [FILE-07]

Grand Dad

"Mario seven, uh, was that the one I played? Oh, let's check it out..."

For Walt Disney, it all began with a mouse. But for SiIvaGunner, it all began with a bootleg game, a streamer, and a pinch of insanity. Many have come after him, and many can claim to be funnier - but Grand Dad will forever hold the title as the first ever figment of imagination to come out of the bubbling mind of SiIvaGunner [FILE-01]. As a result, he has come to be a symbol for the channel in its entirety, the very embodiment of the SiIvaGunner ethos, and something of a dear friend in the eyes of its creator.

In 2014, a certain streamer under the name of Vinesauce Joel was going through the motions of his typical streaming routine - playing games of the oddest variety, and bellylaughing at the absurd results they'd deliver. Even as part of this greater whole, however, Joel's reaction to 7 GRAND DAD immediately became a standout moment, a series of events so perfect that the comedic timing couldn't have been coordinated to be any better. A mumbling Joel clicks on the game bizarrely labeled as "Mario 7", and is to his great shock met with the imagery of a garishly discolored Mario, placed onto an equally garish blue background, as bold letters declare the game's name to be "7 GRAND DAD". Before Joel can even properly process the twist he's been subjected to, only letting out a reading of the game's name, the game twists all expectations once again: An 8-bit rendition of The Flintstones theme, originally from The Flintstones: The Rescue of Dino & Hoppy, kicks in - prompting a bewildered reaction of "FLINTSTONES?!" from the thoroughly befuddled streamer.

This is a sequence of events you're all too familiar with if you're a fan of the SiIvaGunner channel, yet nevertheless a necessary one to properly recount to understand just how core Grand Dad is to SiIvaGunner: Through this one 15-second clip of one streamer's reaction to the unpredictable world of bootleg video games, a small subset of internet dwellers on the platform SoundCloud realized that they'd uncovered a whole new genre of derivative audio work. Mashups and arrangements were always alive and well on the internet, yet always delivered with upfront honesty: To play into their derivative nature as part of the reaction, to present these edits as if they were the nostalgic, authentic real-deal video game music that you grew up loving, only to have the edit serve as an unexpected punchline, was the kind of brilliant idea that just had to be capitalized on. Thus, in January 2016, one lone internet dweller by the name Chaze the Chat started the SiIvaGunner (then GiIvaSunner) channel, and uploaded "Wild Pokémon Battle - Pokémon Ruby & Sapphire". The bait-and-switch foundation that laid the groundwork for all of SiIvaGunner, all built upon the concept of a bootleg Flintstones game pretending to be the seventh entry in the Super Mario franchise.

In our world, Grand Dad's debut to the online world is now over ten years old, his legacy on the SiIvaGunner channel being that of a figurehead mainly representative of the simpler times that the channel has long since grown up from. Yet in the SiIvaGunner universe, to SiIvaGunner himself, Grand Dad is the beating heart of the entire channel, the first spark of imagination which binds his whole universe together. Every figment made since the channel's inception owes its existence to Grand Dad, and with every step SiIvaGunner underwent across his original 2016 run, Grand Dad was right there alongside him, an enduring voice in his head steering the channel onward. And even as his creator fell into a deep slumber, as The Voice Inside Your Head [FILE-03] set his plans into motion to extract SiIvaGunner's figments into the real world, Grand Dad was at the front lines of the resistance fighting in his name - and remains a symbol of hope for all figments caught in The Voice's tyrannical reign.

Across eight years of the channel's life, Grand Dad has gone through so many phases in reception: As a novel joke, as a beacon of hope, as a redundant and played-out bit, looping around into being used ironically, followed by a loop-back-around into being genuinely appreciated. Event after event, album after album, Grand Dad has become a genuine symbol of everything the channel does, and continues to appear to represent it across all of its twists and turns. It's no small feat for a figment to have endured in relevancy for as long as Grand Dad has, and no matter where the channel is headed, you can sure that he's here to stay.

[cool-fancier]

Behind The Spotlight

Synopsis: Aespa's rise, a secret love with Bada, revealed in an unexpected album unboxing live.

You found yourself rising to heights you'd never dreamed of in the glittering world of K-pop, where every note was a pulse and every dance movement became a story. You were living a dream that fans all over the world admired as a well-known idol under SM Entertainment and a member of the amazing group Aespa. Despite the piercing lights and screaming audiences, there was a secret, an intimate tune that only you and Bada, your choreographer, were aware of.

Your relationship with Bada was like a dance, with steps that began long before the spotlight found you. It all started when you first walked through the doors of SM Entertainment as a trainee, your eyes wide with excitement and your heart thumping with ambition. Bada, an experienced choreographer recognised for her inventive dances, joined you on your adventure.

Your first encounter with Bada was a mix of amazement and inspiration. Her choreography pushed limits and defied practises, making her a force to be reckoned with. As a trainee with high goals, you were pulled to her magnetic energy, and the bond between artist and choreographer ignited like a well-choreographed fire.

Days turned into nights of rigorous training, where Bada pushed you to your limits, extracting every ounce of talent hidden within. The dancing studio became a haven for you two, where the language of dance built a silent understanding. The professional relationship grew into a deeper bond that transcended the boundaries of choreographer and artist over time.

Bada stayed after a particularly intense practise one evening, as the city lights glittered outside the studio. The echoes of your dance filled the air, and Bada's eyes met yours in a shared moment of tiredness and accomplishment.

"You have a lot of potential," she added, a rare smile on her lips. "However, potential alone will not get you very far." You must be passionate, dedicated, and eager for the stage. "Are you able to bring that?"

Your response was a firm nod, the tacit agreement made in that dimly lit studio establishing a connection that extended beyond the boundaries of mentorship. Bada evolved from a choreographer to a confidante, a guiding force, and, eventually, the secret rhythm in your heart.

Your relationship with Bada went from mentorship to a hidden love tale at an important turning point when the unspoken feelings between you two could no longer be hidden.

The city lights shimmered outside the dance studio on this cool evening, and the echoes of a good performance lingered in the air. Aespa had just finished a spectacular show that had left the audience speechless. Backstage, the air was charged with a mix of exhilaration and tiredness.

Bada entered the changing room as you were catching your breath, a knowing smile on her lips. "Excellent performance, Y/N. "You had total control of the stage."

You chuckled, still glowing from your performance. "Thank you, Bada. Your choreography took it to an entirely new level."

She moved closer, and the air between you two became electrified with an unsaid force. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Your heartbeat sped, a tinge of excitement growing in your chest. "What is it?"

Bada hesitated for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. "I suppose there's no perfect way to put it. For a while now, I've felt something more than just a professional relationship between us."

The confession hung in the air, the weight of unknown words finally given voice. You realised in that vulnerable moment that the dance that began as mentor and student had grown into something deeper, something that went beyond the beats of the music.

"I've felt it too, Bada," you said with a sincere smile. "Maybe more than I should have."

She moved in closer, her gaze fixed on yours. "Maybe it's time we stop hiding from it, Y/N."

A decision was made in that dressing room, among the discarded clothes and quiet murmurs of the bustling backstage. As you and Bada went into unfamiliar territory, the professional boundaries that had characterised your relationship were transformed, and the invisible barrier between mentor and student vanished.

The first date was a peaceful meal in a hidden location of the city where neon lights flickered like distant stars. The talk flowed naturally, moving from dance to dreams, and the unspoken words were finally heard.

As the night became darker, Bada stretched across the table, tenderly lacing her fingers with yours. "I've been waiting for this for a long time," she said, her eyes reflecting your own vulnerability.

You grinned, a mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes. "Me too, Bada. I never thought we'd be here."

And just like that, the secret love story between you and Bada began to write its own chapters. Late-night rehearsals became shared laughter and stolen glances with the dancing studio seeing a different type of choreography—one that spoke of love, passion, and the path that lead two hearts to intertwine.

Seoul, with its expansive streets and soaring skyscrapers, became the setting for a love story that was concealed in plain sight. Aespa's reputation grew, and your friendship with Bada became stronger, the unspoken bond between you two now coloured with the hues of a romance that had grown in the midst of the spotlight.

As the months passed and Aespa became a global sensation, your relationship with Bada grew stronger. Late-night rehearsals devolved into mutual laughing, and silent glances on stage spoke a lot. The magnetic connection between you two became unmistakable, a secret you kept hidden from fans and the media's prying eyes.

The anticipation of a new album's release influenced the air one day. The world was waiting to see Aespa's latest masterpiece, and the excitement among enthusiasts was considerable. Bada, your choreographer and hidden love, decided to go live on Instagram for a special unpacking session in the thick of it all.

The dance studio transformed into an intimate stage, bathed in soft lights as Bada greeted the fans who tuned in. The comments flooded in with hearts and exclamations of excitement. Bada's eyes sparkled with genuine joy as she began unboxing Aespa's album, the very album she had poured her heart into choreographing.

"Hello, everyone! "I'm here to unbox the incredible album we've all been anticipating," Bada exclaimed her voice brimming with excitement.

The fans erupted in a virtual symphony of cheers, their excitement mirroring Bada's infectious energy. She went through the unwrapping process, meticulously unveiling the album's contents while providing behind-the-scenes details about the choreography process.

"As you all know, this album holds a special place in my heart," Bada explained, her eyes twinkling with passion. "It was both challenging and incredibly rewarding to work on the choreography for these songs." I wanted to come up with movements that reflected the soul of Aespa, and I hope you love the dances as much as I did creating them."

Fans who loved not just Aespa's artwork but also Bada's passion to her profession flooded the comments section with heart emojis and notes of gratitude. Throughout the festivities, Bada continued to chat about the album, occasionally teasing fans with her desire for a certain photo card.

"And, of course, let's talk about this album cover," she said as she held it up to the camera. "Everything is stunning, from the concept to the visuals." Aespa never ceases to amaze, and it is a privilege to be a part of this journey."

You stood back and observed as she continued to unbox and relate stories, your pride and affection for Bada surging in your chest. The studio walls seemed to dissolve, leaving only the virtual link between Bada and the fans.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly as Bada's eyes widened and she cautiously looked around. The realisation that someone was approaching set in, and a faint panic darted across her face. At that point, instinct took over and you entered the frame.

"Hello, Bada unnie! What's going on?" you asked, pretending to be surprised and doing your best to maintain the facade.

Bada's eyes met yours, a mix of relief and awe in her expression. "Oh, Y/N! "I was just unboxing the album and talking with  fans."

"Well, that sounds like fun!" "Do you mind if I join in?" You added, attempting to keep the situation lighthearted.

Bada's eyes opened briefly, but she swiftly recovered, nodding warmly. "Of course, Y/N! "The more, the better."

StarstruckbadaStan:Bada and Y/N, the unexpected dynamic duo. This is iconic! ✨👭

The dynamic shifted once more as you sat next her. The fans were now treated to an unexpected surprise – a live session featuring both the choreographer and one of Aespa's beloved member. The comments section erupted with joy, and Bada resumed the unpacking with ease, her eyes exchanging flirtatious glances with yours.

"And now, for the grand reveal," Bada said, holding out the photo cards. The excitement in the comments section had reached a fever pitch. "Let's see whose face graced my cards this time."

As she flipped through the cards, the inevitable moment arrived. Bada's eyes widened, and she looked at you with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Well, look who we have here. It's Y/N's photo card!"

KpopLover_23:Bada holding Y/N's photo card! 😱 Is this a sign? Aespa's power couple rise! 🌟

BadaIsMyBias:Bada is so supportive! Y/N is lucky to have her as a friend. 😊💜

AlbumCollector_99:I NEED that Y/N photo card! Bada, can you make it happen? 🖊️📀

Y/NsGuardianAngel:Bada, you're the sweetest unnie ever! 😇💕

Fans celebrated the unexpected turn of events with a whirlwind of emojis and exclamations. Bada laughed, participating in the fun. "I suppose dreams do come true!" "Y/N, do you have any words for our incredible fans?"

You smiled, going along with the act. "Wow, what are the chances?" Thank you for your love and support. "We hope you enjoy this album as much as we enjoyed making it for you."

LoveStruckFan:Y/N and Bada, you both look adorable! 💖😘

The live session continued, with you and Bada exchanging honest and lively banter. As it came to a close, Bada addressed the viewers with a passionate emotion. "Thank you for being a part of this unexpected live." Your love means everything to us."

With that, the live session ended, leaving behind a trail of excited fans and a studio filled with the lingering warmth of shared secrets. As the virtual stage faded away, you and Bada exchanged a knowing look, your unspoken bond stronger than ever.

Bada turned to you with a sweet smile in the calm aftermath. "That was unexpected, but enjoyable. I guess our secret is safe for now."

You nodded, your eyes reflecting the shared journey that brought you to this point. "Safe and sound, just like us."

The world outside the studio continued to buzz with the anticipation of Aespa's latest release. Little did the fans know that beyond the dazzling performances and flawless choreography, a secret love story unfolded – a story hidden within the beats and melodies of the albums they cherished. The city of Seoul held its breath, unaware of the intimate dance that continued to unfold behind the stage lights, a dance that spoke of love, dedication, and the unbreakable bond between an idol and her choreographer.

[teethondafloor]

Wait On Me - ¡Rescue Me! - (Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader)

This is an extract from the Wattpad fanfic I am currently writing, where each chapter is named after a song on Tokio Hotel's "Scream" album :3

Year: 2008

Warnings: Fluff and mentions of depression

My username on Wattpad is @Kazoozia if you're interested in reading the rest!

________.✮.________

After the concert ends and the lights are flashed back on, I feel a rush of fans behind me heading to the exit doors, their footsteps trampling over any litter left abandoned on the ground. I am one of the first people to leave the venue, as I was stuck hovering near the back of the room all night. However, I can't complain. The concert was unbelievable; Tom's rapid and clean guitar solos are still looping in my head after the show. My ears feel muffled and swollen as they are put at ease once the music is turned off, the large amps projecting a sharp ring when they are suddenly unplugged from their instruments. Deafened by their blare, I walk out of the building, feeling the cool breeze of the night slap me across the face as I inch closer to the outside. The realisation of how hot it was in that room hits me like the cold wind around me, melting away at my touch. I move away from the doors, looking around. I see some parents stepping out of their cars, growing impatient as they wait for their kids to come out of the building behind me. Making space for them, I stand at the wall of the venue with the front doors to my left and call myself a taxi back to the hotel.

As I wait for my taxi to arrive, I can't help but think about the concert again and again. I have the whole night playing over in my head like a broken record, repeating the same lyrics and tunes, burning them into the cracks of my brain. I was blown away by the intense energy from the crowd, perfectly complimenting the lively spirit of the band. I think of Bill. I'm still left speechless from his long stare and his teethy smile, shining in my direction. As some fans walk by, I feel their smiling faces glancing over at me, clearly remembering me for the plethora of noise I made at the back. I gently smile back at some of them as they pass, a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over me, causing the hair on my arms to rise. God, did I disturb the show?

Busy watching the whole concert play out in my mind, I look up, noticing the taxi pull up on the other side of the pavement in front of me. I pull on the car's door and hop inside, watching my head as I lower my body into the vehicle. When I close the door behind me, I feel the car starting, shaking underneath me. It's rough interior brushes up against my bare arms and there is little room for my legs. It smells like hot shit, but I'll cope, I smile to myself. We drive through the lit up streets of Berlin, the city's graffitied walls blending into a solid, bright pink colour as we drive past them with speed. Looking out at the line of buildings and bars, I dig through my right jean pocket, grasping my crumpled up concert ticket in my palm. I uncrumple it a little and gaze at it's contents. I should've asked for a signature, I think to myself. A little bummed, I still doubt that I'll ever forget a night like this; the electricity of the concert rushing through me still. I scrunch up the paper once more and shove it back into my pocket, and as I look up, I see the hotel edging closer towards us. "This is me." I say to the driver, hoping that he stops near here so I don't have to walk back to the front doors from the parking lot behind the building. To my surprise, he stops just at the front doors of the hotel. I guess luck is on my side tonight, I think. I feel the car stop, the force pushing me forward a little until I bounce back into my seat again. I thank the driver and pay him for the trip, and as I exit the car I glance at my watch, "10.40pm" staring back at me.

Holding onto the straps of my backpack, I enter through the hotel doors and check into my room after a long, eventful night. I stumble towards the elevator doors and step inside, grazing my fingers over the buttons, until  pressing one that leads to the 5th floor. In the elevator, I feel my eyelids starting to lay heavy on my eyes, covering them over almost fully. I sway as the elevator travels from the bottom of the building right to the top, until I hear the 'ding' of the elevator stopping at my floor. As the doors slide open and reveal my face to the other side, I collect myself, step out and take a turn to my right, now walking towards my hotel room. I walk with my eyes half shut, tired and worn from the excitement of the night. On my way down the corridor, I walk past a few people, not batting an eye as they pass; until I hear someone call out from behind me. At first I don't think to turn around, assuming the call is directed to someone else in the hallway. All of the sudden, I feel firm footsteps running towards me, causing cold air to hit my back from the sudden movement. Before I turn around I feel a slight tap on my shoulder. I stop in my step and watch how this tall figure steps in front of me, cutting me off. They are now facing me. Silence settles between us, before they finally speak up. "Sorry to bother...uh...you dropped this" they hand me a crumpled piece of paper. A look of confusion shoots through my face which soon relaxes when I uncrumple the paper, realising that it's my concert ticket. "So...you're a fan I'm guessing" I hear them smile through their words, making me look up slowly. A sharp spark shoots into my throat, through my veins and burns at my fingertips.

It's Bill. Bill Kaulitz. My mouth peers open when I see his face, looking down at me with a smile. His hair is still caked with hairspray, now a little more flat, leaving only some strands pointing up to the ceiling. His fully black, emo attire contrasts with the yellow hallway lights, beaming above us. He looked like my shadow, ominously towering over me. "Oh my god.." I blurt out, not intending him to hear. "Bill, uh..." I shake my head, electricity rushing through me. "What are you...doing here?" I scrunch my eyebrows. He looks down at the floor for a second and then glances back at me before answering. "I'm just..." He thinks "on a walk around the building!" As he examines my face his eyebrows slowly lower and he turns his head slightly to the side. "Were you...at my concert? This nights concert?...You were the girl at the back right? The one screaming." he huffs gently, smiling and awaiting my answer which he clearly already knows.

"Yeah-" I chuckle and nod "yeah that was me up there...I hope I didn't disturb the concert too much." I smile awkwardly.

"No way!" His smile widens, revealing his teeth "You killed it! You brought that concert to life!" I bite the inside of my cheek as I smile, surprised by his enthusiasm. "And you...you were amazing up there- the...the whole band was. you killed that." I say, shaking my head. Bill laughs quietly and looks down at his feet, taking in my praise before opening his mouth to say something. "Thank you thank you...tonight was great for me too, I only fucked up like...once or twice" We both laugh and I notice him looking me up and down subtly.

"It was perfect, don't stress it." I say, reassuring him. We stand in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say when I finally speak up, breaking our eye contact. "Well, I'll let you go now, you can have your...stroll around the building" I say jokingly. Bill looks away, chuckling softly. "Yeah uh...I'll do that!..." He takes a step forward, heading up the corridor before suddenly hesitating. "Oh my god I'm awful...I don't think I got your name sorry..." He stutters a little when he says this, anticipating my answer. Charmed by his awkwardness, I smile and gaze into his eyes. "y/n" I say, nodding my head.

"y/n" He repeats my name back, letting it's taste settle in his mouth. After a moment of brief silence, he breaks our eye-contact, his eyes shooting quick glances at me "Well, I hope you have a nice night y/n." Standing inches away from me, he raises his arm out, inviting me to shake it. I take his hand gently, feeling his cold rings pressing against my fingers. He looks at me for just a second longer and heads down the corridor before I can say my goodbyes. I turn back, my eyes following the back of his head.

Stricken with shock, I'm stunned to my core. What the hell just happened, I think, my back now to him. I just spoke to Bill fucking Kaulitz. Although I am frozen over in shock, I still feel a sort of warmth clustering inside my stomach. I think of his awkward smiles and prolonged stares. In that moment he was so...human. Up until now I've never really seen him in this light, as the only light that is flickered onto him is through interviews and photoshoots; where he is glamorised and simplified, leaving out the human part of him in between each flicker. Seeing his authenticity slip through his stutter, made me realise that Bill in fact is not a shadow that towers over me which I can morph into my own liking, but a person; one like me. I look down at the concert ticket, now warm in my grasp. Maybe I don't need that signature after all.

________.✮.________

Rummaging my keys through the keyhole, I step inside my breezy hotel room, locking the door behind me. I had left some windows open before leaving for the concert, which left the day's cold breath swirling around the room, blowing on the long and cheap curtains which brush against the carpeted floor. Feeling the air grazing my arms, I take a hold of my elbows in a gentle embrace while I step towards one of the windows, reaching over to shut it. A final huff of air escapes the window as I close it, shuffling the curtains delicately before they settle at last. I look out at the city below me, the sky painted a rich blue with shiny white glitter scattered all over. The moon casts a beam of light onto the city's buildings, which disappears into their shadows, creating a maze of black alleyways in between them. Admiring the view at my feet, I pull the curtains over the window, the rings holding them up jamming as I force them towards me. The moon's faint light still peers through the thin fabric, reflecting onto the carpet. With little light in the room, I shuffle towards the small lamp on table next to my bed, and blindly feel the switch with my fingers before pressing it. As the room bursts into a warm wash of light, I set my bag down on the ground next to the dresser.

What a night, I think. The exhaustion from the long day hits me once more, and I feel myself yawn as I stretch my arms out in front of me and rest them on my head. I take a moment to breathe, process. My mind is fogged with moments from the concert and the taxi and the ticket and Bill. Bill. Mostly Bill. The realisation that he is in the same building as me right now is slowly setting in, leaving me speechless. God. What if I run into him again? That would be awkward...I think? I don't know. I can't think right now. I need to uh...

I rub my eyes with both hands, wanting to keep myself awake. Trying to gather my thoughts, I look around again before untying my converse and unzipping my jeans, sliding them off of my legs in a struggle. I pick my jeans up with one hand and throw them into the corner of the room, where a pile of the rest of my dirty (or not so dirty) clothes helplessly lie. Honestly, I lost track of what pile that is a while ago. I stumble towards the small bathroom across from me and I hit the light switch with my hand, its bright flash blinding me. I hold onto the edge of the bathtub in the room, propping myself up while I turn the shower on and wait for the warm water to flow through its pipes. The cold and sharp water drips onto my knuckles, sprinkling me with its thin shards; I wiggle my hand above the bath, shaking it off. grabbing my band shirt by its sides, I pull it over my head and arms, dropping it onto the bathroom floor. As I hear it fall behind me, I slip out of my underwear and step into the tub, watching my head on the railing above. The water is warming up now and I can feel its warm droplets hitting against my skin, washing away the excitement of the night.

I stand in the shower for almost an hour, letting the water cleanse my mind as well as my skin. The burning steam from the shower fogs up the glass surrounding it, trapping the heat inside as it sinks into my pores. After allowing the water to warm me up completely, I sigh and turn the shower off, carefully stepping out of the tub. I grab a towel off of its rack which is bolted onto the wall, first drying myself off and then using it to wrap my hair in a tight turban. I walk out of the bathroom, hearing the soles of my feet patter on the damp floor under me after each step. I wander over to my white sheeted bed and throw myself onto it, my eyes looking up at the ceiling above me. I sit for a while in silence, my mind tired and still fogged with the hot steam which soon disintegrates into the air, revealing the thoughts which I had suppressed the whole night. 

What am I doing? I think. I glance over to my bedside table which holds a small lamp, a pile of university leaflets and pages of forms to fill out. I sigh and roll onto my side, my eyes now pointing to my laptop; I haven't turned it on since I got here a week ago. I've been avoiding writing for weeks now, which is definitely not helping me develop my portfolio. Stupid fucking portfolio. mountains of monologues and poems that I never manage to rhyme properly. They say I need to showcase my best work, for the world to know what I can do. But I just...can't. I can't help but keep proving that all of this is for nothing. I don't know what's wrong with me...I wanted this, I did. I said I would travel all the way out here to find a decent university that will take me in for what I am, for what I can do. For what I thought I could do. But what if I can't do this anymore? What if I'm sick of trying? What if these pages I'm writing mean nothing and I'm wasting my time trying to be understood. When the world was made for visuals and I can only communicate with words. God. My mind spirals down into a hole, the same hole that was left deep within me when my music career failed and plummeted into it. I'm so scared that writing will dig deeper, leaving me hallow. I notice my breath quicken as these thoughts race through me and even as I wallow in self pity, I hold myself, forcing any comfort I could find left within me onto myself.

I yawn gently, looking around the dimly lit room as the bedside lamp flickers slightly. I reach over to the drawer, pulling it open with ease and dig out my silver iPod mini, clutching it and the earphones dangling from it in the palm of my hand. Switching off the lamp, I pull the hotel's white duvet over me; soft folk melodies singing me to sleep. Laying with my thoughts tangling in my head, I skip a song and a familiar tune starts to play: "This used to be our secret...Now I'm hiding here alone..." It was 'Rescue Me'. I remind myself of the the same lyrics that played at the concert a few hours ago. Hours ago when loud music also drowned out my thoughts. I curl up into a ball as the song plays, feeling the duvet absorb my body heat and create a soft mist of heat hovering over me like a warm aura. I fall fast asleep, screaming in my head, my voice desperately trying to escape me. "...My S.O.S on radio...The only chance to let you know...What I fear...Can you hear?...Come and rescue me..."

________.✮.________

- teethondafloor (Zuźka)

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

John

This fella is Fascinating. just trust me on this he deserves to be here

He tried so hard to do the right thing, he feels bad and says things would be better if he was never born. He thinks he should've just stayed acting like a monster and continued to act threatening.

(LONG PROPAGANDA INCOMING)

John. Milgram. Here's a short description of the fortunes and misfortunes of the guy. It gets worse before it gets better (probably).

While MILGRAM is a prison that judges a bunch of sympathetic killers, it doesn't consider him to be one – it didn't even exactly know he existed until too little too late, when it got its grabby hands on the brain of prisoner 009, who claimed to not know anything about any murder he'd have committed. Then, footage from his brain was extracted, as MILGRAM does, into a music video, and… that was MeMe. Ninth prisoner, Kayano Mikoto, was revealed to have DID, and what obviously who do you think actually Killed Someone?

Enter John. Well. Mikoto is half deeply unaware half subconsciously scared of his existence, so the MV painted him in a rather. Deeply disturbing way, bathing in bloody baths and all that (not a blood bath though! easy mistake). Adding to that him showing up in the first Voice Drama for five seconds to punch the "protagonist" and yell for a bit, and the result wasn't. Assuring. The fandom proceeded to treat him like a cardboard cutout and variously dunk on MILGRAM for having a cliché "evil" character w/ DID despite the overall well handling of complex characters.

Two years time skip: second season ending. We get to prisoner 009 again. The protagonist Finally gets to chat with John: and voila, he's admitting to the crime, he's apparently "killed a bunch of people because they annoyed him", which means, as he's saying, Mikoto has nothing to do with the crime at all! And he, as per the judging system, should be forgiven, right! Well, he's so full of shit. The music video immediately reveals how protective he feels of Mikoto (and well, he definitely doesn't rebuke That one), that the events of murder were somehow tied in to Mikoto's job at a black company, his continuous overworking and him being mentally on the brink of breaking; that any committed violence was For The Sake of Mikoto and that John feels deeply horrible for messing up his life in any way. By making himself into the image of a "monster" he's trying to make Mikoto look good in comparison and be forgiven and all. He also mentioned if Mikoto is voted innocent he's gonna try to go dormant since he's The Issue, right, and the audience/protagonist hates him, Right, and Mikoto Also Hates him, Right?

I'm underselling the sheer devotion of this guy tbh.

Yeah, the fandom results were kinda mixed on that one. Lots of people immediately started to love him dearly and kinda forgot any people were maimed or killed with baseball bats; lots also got sold on him "messing up Mikoto's life" and actually voted Mikoto innocent Specifically because of John's promise to eventually "disappear". There's more of the babygirlifying kind in the English side of the fandom that I've seen, to be fair. And that's around where we are!

Dazai Osamu

He did bad things in the Mafia. He's trying to get better. He abused people but he also saved other people. Fans portraying him as an unforgivable abuser are WRONG. He perpetuated an abused cycle on Akutagawa thinking he was right to do that, because of trauma, before he could leave. But he left. He's still treating Akutagawa wrong because he's trying to be a better person but doesn't realize that it will not erase what he did and that he can't just ignore the past. Fans portraying him as a pure angel who didn't know what he was doing because he was sad are WRONG TOO. He abused Akutagawa. He was traumatized but it doesn't give him the right to traumatize innocent people. He's trying to be a better person but he can't keep ignoring Akutagawa. He needs to apologize. And even that won't erase what he did. Dazai is a complex character in a complex situation. He left the abuse cycle and tries to be a good person but did unforgivable things while he was still in this cycle and refuses to aknowledge them. He's not a monster but he's not innocent either.

Dazai used to be a mafia executive until his best friend (a former assassin who remained in the mafia but refused to kill) died. As the friend was dying he told him "I know you don't care about whether you're a good or bad person, so if it doesn't matter to you, be on the side that saves people." Despite that, I've seen countless people insisting that Dazai is a good person/trying his best to be a good person when he really only changed sides by joining a detective agency, while still continuing to do the same things he did while in the mafia (including but not limited to: harassing his coworkers for fun, manipulating people, killing people instead of just trying to incapacitate them, and even torturing an innocent man in one of the side stories). That being said, he's not evil either. Even when he does cruel things, it's not for the sake of being cruel (even when he harasses his coworkers he still has limits), it's just a means to an end. I think most of the confusion comes from a scene where he's talking to a young girl, another former mafia member, who asks if he thinks people can change and he assures her they can, but what the anime left out was that he was thinking about his former assassin friend during that discussion, not himself. The entire series is themed around gray morality, to the point where it's even reflected in the main protagonist and antagonist's designs (mainly white with a bit of black, and mainly black with a bit of white), so I feel like insisting that he's a good person now completely misses the point of the story.

[avatar-anna]

Grief Fic, Part 2

this is a continuation of the fic i posted a few weeks ago where reader helps harry with his grief. you can read the first part here!

tw: themes/mentions of abuse/domestic violence.

as always, i try to be as sensitive as possible, and i never want to offend anyone or make them uncomfortable. there's nothing in this fic that's overly explicit, but there are mentions and allusions to dv.

Harry looked down at his phone and wondered if he was crazy for thinking it was strange that Y/n hadn't so much as emailed him in weeks.

Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps he was putting too much thought into a situation that didn't actually exist. Perhaps he was reading a little too much into the fact that Y/n's new boyfriend was a raging asshole who was slowly but surely isolating her from all her friends and family.

Perhaps he wasn't crazy.

It wasn't like it was unusual for Y/n not to talk to Harry consistently. Both of them were plenty busy. He was a full time dad and simultaneously juggled a pretty successful music career—if he did say so himself—and she was the head nurse in the Labor and Delivery wing of a huge hospital. They went days without talking. It happened.

But this silence felt different.

It started with Y/n declining invitations. Sometimes Harry would invite her to a show if he was performing in town, or out for drinks when he needed a break from helping Harper with schoolwork and dance classes and Girl Scout troop meetings. Harry had plenty of friends he could go to and hang out with, but Y/n understood him in a way no one else did. She was Harper's godmother, had been his late wife's best friend. There were just some things that Harry felt comfortable talking to and confiding in with Y/n that he didn't with anyone else.

So when she started declining invitations to go out and stopped dropping by the house, Harry felt her absence. When she stopped coming over to see Harper, he'd became annoyed. And when she arrived late to their monthly family dinner looking like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks, he became worried.

"I've been picking up extra shifts at the hospital," she'd said, trying to wave off her fatigue. But Harry knew better. He'd known Y/n long enough to tell the difference between exhaustion from work and...whatever she was now.

And now she wasn't speaking to him at all. Harry called, texted, left messages at the hospital, and she didn't respond to a anything. As days went by, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was seriously wrong with his friend.

His last effort was going to see her in person. Harry had managed to find out from one of Y/n's coworkers that she was off today, so he drove to her house, only when he knocked on the door, his friend wasn't the one who answered.

"What do you want?"

Harry had had the pleasure of meeting Y/n's boyfriend once, and for him, once was enough. He wasn't overtly rude—though now Harry would say otherwise—he just didn't really acknowledge his or Harper's presence the whole afternoon they were together. And while Harry realized that not everyone was a fan of kids, he couldn't help but think Y/n's boyfriend's icy demeanor toward his daughter was very telling.

Doing his best to swallow his negative thoughts and feelings, Harry mustered a smile. "I'm here to see Y/n. Is she here?"

"No."

"Okay...Do you know when she'll be back?" Harry asked, getting the feeling that extracting information from the man in front of him was probably going to be similar to pulling teeth.

"That's none of your concern."

Y/n's boyfriend tried to close the door in Harry's face, but Harry was having none of that. Putting his hand on the door, he said, "You know what? I think I'll just wait inside for her. It's pretty urgent."

"Back the fuck up—"

"Excuse me? You back the fuck—"

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

For a moment, relief washed over Harry. Y/n was alive, which Harry seriously started to doubt for a second there. Then, as his eyes did a quick scan of Y/n, some of that dread started to creep back in.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?"

She had fading bruises on one wrist, and harsh red marks on the other. Hand prints, Harry realized as he narrowed his eyes. He looked over at Y/n's boyfriend furiously. "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"None of your fucking business, popstar. Now get the fuck off my property."

Civility had flown out the window. Harry wasn't about to let this prick get in his face or treat Y/n like that. He didn't care who saw or if he was about to come to blows with this guy. All Harry knew was that the bastard had hurt his best friend, and Harry couldn't let him get away with that. "Get out of my face, of I swear I'll—"

"You'll what? What? What are you gonna—"

"Enough! Harry, please. I'm fine. Now's really not a good time. Please, just—please go."

Y/n had frantically put herself between Harry and her boyfriend, and now that they were so close, he could see just how dark the rings around her eyes were, just how hollow her cheeks had become. The shirt she was wearing was too loose on her. What the hell was going on here?

"Harry, please. Go."

Y/n sounded scared as she pleaded with him, and that told him everything he needed to know. "Promise you'll call me," he said, taking her hand in his. "Promise, Y/n."

Nodding quickly, she squeezed his hand feebly. "I promise."

Harry went reluctantly, nearly stormed over to her boyfriend and beat the shit out of him when he saw the smug smile on the bastard's face. But he swallowed his anger and frustration, not wanting Y/n to get caught in the crossfire.

When he got home, Harry was a nervous wreck. He was distracted as he made dinner and cleaned up around the house. Part of him was glad Harper was spending the weekend with Soph's parents so she wouldn't see him like this, but he could've used their nighttime routine to take his mind off things.

He waited. And waited. Nearly stayed up all night in the hopes that she would call him. He must've fallen asleep at some point, though, as he woke up with a start on his couch. When he turned his phone on, there was nothing from Y/n.

*.*

"You were there for me, Y/n. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same for you."

"I don't want your help—I don't need your help, so just—just let it go, Harry!"

"He's trying to isolate you, Y/n," Harry said gently. "He's creating a wall between you and everyone who loves you and knows you and wants what's best for you. Can't you see that?"

Harry looked at Y/n sadly, which only seemed to piss her off even more than she already was. She'd been defensive, tried to convince him that she didn't need his pity or his help. This wasn't the same scenario, she insisted. She wasn't a danger to herself the way he had been two years ago. She was fine. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

It was all spilling out of her, yet it only made it more clear to Harry that she needed him.

"That's not what's happening. He's my boyfriend. Why wouldn't we spend time alone together?"

"Harper misses you," he said, going for a different angle. "She keeps asking when she'll get to see you, and I can't give her a straight answer. We're your family, Y/n, and he won't let you see us."

"That's not—That's not fair," Y/n said, not wanting to believe the truth, which was that Harry might be right.

"What's going on out here?"

"You're right. It isn't. It isn't fair that you call me crying three times a week because your boyfriend is out and you can't reach him. It isn't fair that he expects you to cook and clean for him when he's a grown man and you have a full time job. It isn't fair that he belittles you and—" Harry paused, the emotion he felt catching in his voice as he thought about the state of her wrists the last time he saw her.

He hadn't seen Y/n in weeks, but a few days after he went to her house, she called Harry absolutely beside herself at the situation she was in. He talked to her for hours, calming her down and reassuring her that he was there and so was his home if she needed somewhere to get away. And for the first time, Harry was convinced that Y/n was seeing reason.

Until days passed and she never left him, which led to a weeks-long cycle of her calling him crying, him comforting her over the phone while she convinced him she was done, and somehow never ended up leaving him. Harry finally couldn't take it any longer and drove to her place again. Seeing her slowly whither away, seeing her less and less physically because her boyfriend wouldn't let her hang out with him or Harper, it killed him. "It isn't fair that he's turned you into this—this shell of the person you once were. It's not right, Y/n—"

Harry didn't miss the way Y/n jumped at the sound of his voice, or the way she subconsciously curled in on herself. It was like she wilted every time he walked into a room, or tried to be as small as possible so he wouldn't notice her. How could she not realize it?

"Nothing, baby. Go back inside," Y/n, her hand shaking as she rested it on his arm.

"Is he giving you trouble? I thought I told you I didn't like you hanging out with him. What's he doing here?" he said, sending a withering glare Harry's way.

Harry stared right back, unwilling to let the piece of shit unnerve him. He had half a mind to say something when Y/n spoke up first.

"He was just going, I promise," she said, turning her eyes on Harry pleadingly.

Harry wanted to say something so badly. He wanted to shake his best friend by the shoulders and make her see reason. This man she called a boyfriend wasn't a man at all, but a monster, and he hated how much Y/n had changed because of him.

But Y/n still couldn't see what he saw, and starting a fight when he knew she would side with her boyfriend wouldn't do any good. It would probably just isolate her even more than she already was, which said something. It had been hard for Harry to tell when he was on the road, but now that he was back for a few months, his stomach was constantly in knots.

It made him miss his wife sometimes. Harry knew that Sophia would know exactly what to say to Y/n, to Harry. She would've been the voice of reason in all of this mess; she would've stopped this mess before it even started. And Harry couldn't help but feel partly to blame for not being around for Y/n when it was so clear she needed someone to look out for her. She'd always been so good at helping others, but it was as if she gave all her kindness and compassion to her patients and friends and family and saved none of it for herself.

"Go, Harry. Please."

Harry could see it, then. The terror. The fear that something might escalate if he stayed, which meant that at least on some level, Y/n knew that her boyfriend was bad news. So why put up with him?

He didn't want to go, but he didn't see any alternatives. Promising himself that he'd call first thing tomorrow morning, Harry nodded and backed down the walkway that led to Y/n's home.

*.*

It was a few weeks later when Harry spoke to Y/n again. He texted her constantly, and sometimes he would get a response. Then all of a sudden, nothing. It was like she'd gone radio silent again. Harry never liked involving Harper in all this, but just once he had her try to call Y/n, but there was still no answer, which was when he really started to worry. Y/n might have cut him off, but he never thought she would do the same to his daughter.

So now he was driving to the hospital. As far as he knew, Y/n was still working in L&D, and even if she wasn't working today, he hoped to get some answers from her coworkers.

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry mustered a small smile for Miranda, Y/n's friend at work. He saw her often when he and Harper visited Y/n at the hospital, and she would always give Harper sweets from behind the counter. "My secret stash," Miranda would say with a wink. Harry never really considered the Labor and Delivery wing of a hospital somewhere where his daughter enjoyed spending her time, but they went often enough that he was pretty sure she liked it more than going to the park.

"Miranda. Hey. Is Y/n in today?"

The cheery look on Miranda's face faltered, which told Harry everything he needed to know. "She, um, she called out today. Said it was the flu."

"Do we really believe that?" Harry said.

Miranda's expression looked strained. "I—I don't know, Harry. I don't like to talk about it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. It was awkward to talk about Y/n when she wasn't here. Miranda was just a work friend, but Harry could tell that she knew more about Y/n's situation than she let on. But even so, it would be uncomfortable to talk about. "I'm—I'm just worried, that's all. "

"I know you are, Harry. I, um, I can spare a few minutes in just a bit if you want to wait over there," she said, nodding her head toward the waiting room where families and future fathers were anxiously awaiting good news.

Desperate, Harry nodded and found a seat in the waiting room. The minute he sat down, his leg bounced anxiously while his fingers toyed with his bottom lip. He just couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen. His stomach twisted itself into knots to the point where he had to bend over and wait for the stress to pass, but every time one of his texts or calls went unanswered, it just got worse.

"Is this your first?"

Startled, Harry looked to his left to find a man about his age sitting two seats away from him. He also looked nervous, but in an excited sort of way. Harry's brows furrowed for a moment before remembering where he was sitting. "Oh, um no. My friend works here. I'm just waiting for her."

Seeing this man did distract Harry in a way. He remembered his own experience as an expectant father. Sophia had gone into labor a few weeks early, and Harry was on the other side of town buying some last minute things for the baby when he got the call. He'd missed nearly all of it, but Y/n had been there. She'd always been there for his family .

"Oh, sorry," the man said, and Harry noticed his fidgeting hands and nervous looks toward the entrance of the delivery room. "My girlfriend wanted me to wait out here. She claimed I shouldn't have to see her in such a compromised position. I disagreed, but she insisted."

Harry smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "It's..." He didn't even know how to describe it, but he wouldn't have exchanged sharing that experience with Soph for the world. Eventually, he said, "Good on you for respecting her wishes."

"Thanks. I mean, we weren't exactly dating when she got pregnant and we haven't known each other all that long, so it makes sense, but I love her, you know? I want to be there for her."

"I know the feeling."

For a moment, Harry thought of his wife. When she got sick, Harry had been there for her for every doctor's visit, every scan, every appointment, every symptom. He never let Soph feel like she was facing her illness alone. Because he loved her, and he promised to take care of her and be there for her when they got married.

Then, flashes of Y/n appeared in Harry's mind. He thought about how important she was to him, to Harper. She was there to pick up the pieces that Soph had left when she died. When no one else knew how to reach him, she did, and he never imagined there would be a way to repay her kindness. And now that there was, he couldn't just let her keep fading the way he had been two years ago. The situations weren't the same, but it was dire enough to keep him up most nights as he waited for the call to take her away from her awful excuse of a boyfriend.

Before the man could say anything else, a nurse appeared in front of him with a large smile on her face. Harry was left to stew in his anxiety-riddled mind once again. He tried not to look at his phone too much, but he still checked every few minutes, even though his ringer was on high and he wouldn't have missed a single text. He wanted to call until she picked up, but he also worried that her boyfriend would see and get suspicious or delete his number, so he settled on waiting for Y/n to do the right thing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Miranda appeared at his side. She nodded at Harry to follow her, and he hastily stood up while they left L&D behind.

"You know, we deal with psycho ex boyfriends, husbands, what have you, all the time who try to force their way into the Delivery Room," she said as she walked, shaking her head sadly. "And she—she doesn't take shit from any of them, doesn't even flinch, and yet—"

Miranda's voice hitched as it trailed off, but Harry knew what she meant. Y/n was strong, didn't take shit from anyone. When he was lost in the darkest moments of his life, she was there to give him the tough love he needed to survive. She pushed him around, held him up in the shower, practically forced him to get better. And still—

"I don't know what to do."

Y/n had seemed to know exactly what Harry needed without him having to tell her, without him even knowing what he needed. What kind of friend was he if he couldn't do the same?

Miranda gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "You just have to be there for her when she realizes who he is."

"I can't wait that long! He's a monster—"

"You have to, or you'll just push her further away from you," Miranda said. "I know it's hard, believe me, we've fought about it at work, but she's not listening to reason right now. Saying the wrong thing will isolate her even more."

"I would never abandon her," Harry insisted.

"I know, and deep down she knows that too," Miranda said gently. "But if you push her the wrong way, she might think she's burned a bridge with you and not reach out when she's ready."

Harry understood what Miranda was getting at, he really did. He was currently walking on a tightrope, and one wrong move, one wrong comment could send him careening to the ground and Y/n would be left standing alone. He just wished he knew what to say to make her see what he did.

Harry shook his head. "I can't wait for him to do something to seriously hurt her. I would never forgive myself if—"

Harry didn't even want to finish that sentence, but luckily he was saved by his phone's ringer. Relief filled his gut for a moment, then dissipated when he saw it was an unknown number. Still, taking a chance, he answered.

"Hi, is this Harry Styles?"

Not a question he received often, but the person on the other line sounded official, so he said, "Yes, this is he."

"This is Lisa from the ER at Dayton Health Medical Center. We have you listed here as Y/n L/n's emergency contact."

"Yes, that's me. Is everything okay? Is Y/n hurt? What happened—"

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Styles. Y/n just took a tumble down some stairs and is in need of a lift home. Are you able to come get her, or is there someone else I can call?"

"No!" Harry said, perhaps a little too intensely. Quieting his voice, he said, "No, I can—I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Great. Be sure to bring your parking ticket. We validate at the front desk."

Harry all but scrambled to his car, sending a hasty text to his mum asking her to pick Harper from school. He told the woman on the phone that he would be there in twenty minutes, but damn it if he didn't make it in fifteen.

*.*

"Your wife is just behind this curtain, Mr. Styles."

Harry didn't even have time to correct the nurse, to register the ache in his chest at the word "wife." All he cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. He did, however, take a moment to steady his breathing before pushing back the curtain, praying for calm thoughts as he set his eyes on his friend.

Truth be told, Harry didn't know where to look first.

On the phone, he was told Y/n had fallen down the stairs and that she was fine, but she definitely didn't look it. Her cheek was bruised a greenish-yellow, and bled across the bridge of her nose. A cut marred her bottom lip, making one side look puffy and beyond painful. Her right arm was in a sling too, and each injury that Harry spotted filled him with more and more anger.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/n's voice was slightly distorted by her swollen lip, but he could tell she wasn't exactly happy to see him.

"I'm your emergency contact," Harry said simply, trying not to linger on any of her injuries for too long. He figured Y/n went to a different hospital to avoid being seen by anyone she knew, but she obviously forgot about him being her emergency contact. "What are you doing here?"

"I fell."

He'd hoped Y/n would give up the charade, but he wasn't surprised that she hadn't, either. "I heard. How did that happen?"

That question seemed to splinter the damn surrounding Y/n's heart. With a shaking hand, she covered her face and began to cry.

Harry was surprised by the tears, expecting his friend to deflect and lie the way she had been the last couple months. But with the first tremble of her shoulders, he was there, sliding into the cot beside her. He was gentle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her to his chest. He didn't like how frail Y/n felt, or how she flinched at first before settling against him.

"I don't know how this happened," she sobbed. "I never—I love him, and he—How can I love someone who did this to me?"

Not having the answer, Harry just continued to hold her, letting her get out everything she needed to. She didn't say much after that, and while he was desperate to know how she'd sustained so many injuries, he stayed quiet.

He expected to feel angry at Y/n's boyfriend, or perhaps angrier. But all he felt as she cried in his arms was despair, and perhaps a small seed of relief that she finally seemed to understand the danger she was in. And maybe guilt too, that he couldn't protect her the way she needed him to.

Harry kept it all to himself, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder and squeezing her gently. "You're gonna be okay."

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

It was all he could think of to say. He didn't know how to answer her question, and he knew she wouldn't be okay for a while, but she would be. Harry would make sure of it.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said quietly. "You've been trying to get me to see the truth for weeks, for months, and I didn't listen. I didn't—"

"Hey, none of that."

Harry continued to hold Y/n and stroked her hair gently until her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Relief washed over him like a bucket of ice water down his back. He could physically feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. Now that Y/n was asleep, Harry allowed himself to really feel everything he put a lid on since the curtains were pulled back on her section of the Emergency Room. He was scared, anxious, mad, but mostly just relieved she was safe. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the familiar smell of her shampoo eased his mind, and the way she curled into his side while she slept helped him feel like he was keeping her safe.

"I'm so happy you're safe," he whispered into the crowd of Y/n's head. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

*.*

A few weeks later, and Y/n and Harry were lounging on the couch together after dinner. Harper was asleep in her room after Y/n read her a bedtime story. His daughter had been ecstatic when Harry told her Y/n would be staying with them for a while, and even though she was recovering from her injuries, she still played dress up and tea time and built forts and made cookies and basically anything Harper wanted to do. Y/n was quieter and more subdued than usual, but her smile continued to grow as each day went by. It was just a little, just not by bit, but it was progress.

Now they were both lounging after dinner—one that Y/n insisted she make for Harry and Harper. They were talking about the album he was slowly but steadily working on. Well, Harry was talking, Y/n was listening quietly with one hand holding the stem of her wine glass.

When a lull in the conversation settled them in comfortable silence, Harry found himself looking at Y/n. He hated seeing her beautiful face so marred, and not just physically. The usual playful glint in her eye was gone, and she didn't smile as much anymore, and when she did, it didn't reach her eyes. He missed seeing her smile, seeing the light fill her eyes when she laughed at one of his lame jokes.

But in the last few days, Y/n's bruises started to heal, she was getting her sling off at the end of the week, and she didn't flinch when he helped her change her bandages or at casual touches from him. Things weren't totally back to normal, seeing as she still didn't feel comfortable staying alone at her place, but Harry was confident that they would be.

Harry blinked, his face flushing when he realized he'd been caught staring. Shaking his head, he looked at Y/n funny. "You'll stay with me obviously. I'll send someone to get you some extra clothes and stuff and you can stay with me and Harper while we work on getting your locks changed. Or longer. Whatever you need."

He sounded so matter of fact, so sure. It made Y/n want to cry. "I meant, like, far into the future," she said, running a tired hand through her hair. "I've always been able to trust my judgement, but now? I'll never look at a guy the same again."

"Rude," Harry joked. A desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but you appreciated it.

"You don't count. You're..."

"I'm...What?"

Hers. Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it, though, even if it was true. Sophia was Harry's great love, the mother of his child. Y/n would never even consider him as someone to date, which was a shame because he was quite possibly the perfect man in every other respect.

"My friend. I think you've held my hair back one too many times as I puked my guts up."

Harry nodded and laughed, but he didn't say anything after that. He looked contemplative, as if a million thoughts were swirling around in his head. Y/n was curious to know what he was thinking so hard about, but wasn't at the same time. Maybe some of their thoughts were best left unsaid.

"Well, I have an early shift tomorrow. I should probably get to bed," Y/n said eventually, standing up from her spot on Harry's sofa.

Harry nodded and mumbled something about having to take Harper to school early too, and she couldn't help but feel like there was this tension between them. Maybe not tension, but something. Something was off-kilter between them, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

As she went up the stairs to the guest bedroom, the same one she stayed in for as long as she'd been Harry's friend, he called her name. She turned to find him at the base of the stairs looking up at her with a fond little smile on his face.

"I meant what I said earlier. Stay as long as you need to. You'll always have a home here."

The words filled Y/n with warmth, making her feel safer and more settled than she had in months. In that moment, there was so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't even begin to vocalize, but even with the distance between them, she could read the look in Harry's eyes and knew she didn't have to say a thing.

[transformativeworksandcultures]

Fans of Color Prize Winner!

Transformative Works and Cultures is pleased to announce Osarugue Otebele as our inaugural Fans of Color Prize award winner for her article “The (anti)fan is black: Consumption, resistance, and black K-pop fan vigil labor”! Otebele’s article will be published in TWC’s upcoming special issue “Centering Blackness in Fan Studies” on December 15th. 

The Fans of Color Prize had 15 submissions, covering the breadth of TWC’s publications from 2021-2024, while providing an incredible glimpse into the impactful work happening in (and outside of) fan studies. Otebele’s submission stood out because, as one reviewer noted, it was “conceptually ambitious.” 

Otebele, a 4th year PhD candidate in the Department of Film & Media at UC Berkeley who goes by Osa among friends and colleagues, is a K-pop fan! She’s been an Epik-High fan since middle school and is also a fan of UKISS, SISTAR, EXO, BOYFRIEND, and others. As a fan, Otebele’s hope is that the K-pop industry will continue to thrive. 

We sat down with Otebele to discuss what brought her to her research, what she’s working on next, and where she sees the field heading. As a little sneak peek to the upcoming issue on “Centering Blackness in Fan Studies,” we’ve shared some of her remarks below. 

TWC: What brought you to this specific research topic? Otebele: I’ve been a K-pop fan since I was in middle school. When I was a younger fan, I wasn’t as aware of the racial tensions in fandom spaces. It wasn’t until I got to high school that I realized that my lack of involvement was also due to not knowing where to locate other Black K-pop fans. This was partly because it was also in high school when words such as “woke” or “conscious” became part of my vocabulary, so I was always looking for ways to bring attention to my Blackness and, as a  K-pop fan, it was difficult to do that. Both the industry and many non-Black fans wanted to escape from having conversations about race.  TWC: Could you briefly explain the key problem or question your article, “The (anti)fan is black: Consumption, resistance, and black K-pop fan vigil labor,” addresses?  Otebele: My article is interested in the ways Black K-pop fans engage instances of appropriation within the industry (from artists and fans), while also attempting to maintain their status as fans. Some of the key questions of my article were, “what makes an anti-fan?” and “how do Black K-pop fans employ digital media platforms to perform their fannish affect?”  TWC: Were there any unexpected challenges you encountered during your research? Otebele: I would say the biggest challenge was working against my own knowledge and love for the industry to write an article that was quite critical of it. In a way, this challenge is also what my article describes, because I’m really invested in how, for Black fans, the identities fan and anti-fan often require their simultaneous performance.  TWC: Are you planning any follow-up research or new projects based on this article?  Otebele: Yes! I’m currently working on another article focused on narrative coherence in the aesthetic performances in K-pop eras. In that paper, I examine how K-pop engenders a critical addition to the instability of cultural identity while on the other hand, it necessitates and reproduces the fungibility of Blackness, where groups can enter in and out of a performance of Blackness that best fits a particular era. My concerns are with how the narrative coherence of each era (hip-hop era, afro-beat era, Y2K, or house music era) requires a commitment to the performance demanded from these various musical genres.  TWC: Where do you see the field heading in the next few years, and how do you hope your work contributes to that?  Otebele: I think much of K-pop studies is focused on transnational fandoms and cross-cultural exchange, but we should also be having the difficult conversations about cultural extraction, about race, about gender and their relationship to fan labor. The industry is growing even more global with many K-pop idols emerging from the United States, Canada, Japan, and more. We really have to turn our attention to the kind of social ideologies that these idols are bringing from their various cultures and locations and how that changes not only the sound and look of the industry but also its fandom. 

Otebele also emphasized to us that receiving this award as a grad student really gave her work a sense of validity and importance, while also encouraging her to continue working on Black fan experience of K-pop. When asked if she had any advice for early career researchers aiming for impactful publications, Otebele shared: “Revise, revise, revise!” 

We can’t wait for you all to get to read Osa Otebele’s award-winning article, “The (anti)fan is black: Consumption, resistance, and black K-pop fan vigil labor,” which will be published in our upcoming special issue “Centering Blackness in Fan Studies” on December 15. Congratulations again, Osa, from everyone at Transformative Works and Cultures! 

[idontknowreallywhy]

FishTank Week Day 1 for prompt “Wingman”

This started silly and got sillier. I make no apology because I am horribly sleep deprived and writing anything at all under (self-imposed) prompt pressure is usually impossible so even nonsense is better than nothing 😂

Featuring my headcanon that Virg is not in the same drinking league as the military bros…

And also a terrible cheesy earworm.

💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛

Everybody’s lookin’ for that SOOOOMEEEETHIIIIIING…

Virgil’s forehead sank onto the bar and squelched slightly. One of the saturated green-and-yellow-striped spill mats (the very ones his little brother had insisted were A SIGN that this was the place they should spend their rare evening off) oozed stale beer into his eyebrows.

He’d been adamant, despite the fact the place’s kitchen was closed for renovation and was almost empty as a result..

In retrospect three handfuls of peanuts plus the many lime wedges from the many beers he had consumed were insufficient stomach lining for a night out with an ex-WASP. He wasn’t even a massive fan of pale lager, particularly not by the bucketload. But, again, Gordo had been militant about his theme and had been so adorably excited about the “little green ship in a big yellow glass! It’s us in opposite-se-sez-sies!”

Yeah that should probably have been their cue to go home.

Well to the hotel.

Which was sort of home. Temporary home? One-night home? Where was the hotel anyway? Had they booked one? He frowned and there was another distracting squelch.

Virgil sat himself up and tried to subtly wring out his eyebrows.

Ooof, may have poked himself in the eye a little there… he blinked rapidly.

The barmaid gave him a look and Virgil did his best effort at a charming grin straight out of the Scott Tracy handbook.

She did not appear charmed.

Damnit. Stupid dimples. Dimples was cheating.

The barmaid walked past and unsubtly removed the glass containing the last third of his 13th pint. 14th? What even was a pint anyway? Imperial measures made zero sense.

Wait! He waved frantically and she returned with a wary expression. Virgil inserted his index and middle finger into the glass and extracted the lime wedge before giving her a wonky thumbs up and dropping it on the bar.

He shrugged and ate it anyway. Interestingly they weren’t even sour anymore.

When you’ve found that special thiiiiiiing…

His brother had covered at least three keys in one line there.

Maybe Virgil should have saved the limes to cram into his ear canals?

He rested his elbow on the bar and propped his chin up on his first and tried to give his brother a Look that meant “stop torturing my ears and let’s go back… to wherever.”

Gordon winked at him theatrically and refused to understand the Look.

Realistically Virgil was sleeping here anyway.

Because his tiny little baby brother who frankly should still be sleeping in a cot and wearing diapers could apparently drink like a fish as well as swim like one and he was in no way done yet. And Virgil had to keep up because he was bigger and it was a matter of pride and he had to keep an eye on the fish. Because the fish was very precious.

A precious fishy idiot who Virgil couldn’t help but love.

A fishy idiot that was now doing his utmost to drive the few remaining customers from the bar by monopolising the karaoke machine.

A simple line can make you laaaaaaugh or cry

Ouch.

The annoying thing was that Gordon could sing. Properly. Well, actually. Virgil enjoyed listening on the rare occasion Gordon didn’t realise he was being overheard.

But he refused to do it when he was in public. Instead they got… this.

Virgil had to acknowledge it took some skill to deliberately remain that out of tune.

At least he’d moved on from the rapping. Virgil’s eye twitched. Some therapy would be required to recover from that.

Although the ballads were not much better - the combo of the twinkly synth string backing and a screeching squid was a match made in hades.

The music swelled and Gordon caught his eye, stood up from the stool he’d perched on, boy band style, and pointed a slightly wobbly finger at his big brother. Ah ha! He wasn’t invincible after all! He was beginning to succumb.

Virgil was jolted back into the present with the realisation Gordon had suddenly forgotten to sing out of tune:

You'll find it in the deepest friendship

The kind you cherish all your life

And when you know how much that means

You've found that special thing

You're flying without wiiiiings.

Virgil sniffed and cursed his drunken brain for being cheesy. Gordon grinned at him then turned to lead a group of middle aged ladies in a passionate and atonal rendition of the middle eight.

He was impossible. Irascible.

Completely idiotic half the time.

Not quite invincible enough for Virgil’s liking.

As he slid slowly off the barstool, Virgil smiled sappily and proudly told the barmaid that Gordy was HIS special thing.

[autumnwhistles]

Introducing Last Life SMP: The Musical

“There is an old, old tale to be told/Of green like the spruce, of crimson and gold...”

Welcome to my Last Life musical. In two acts, and 32 songs, I aim to tell the tale of the Last Life SMP in a way that’s understandable to audiences who are fans of, as well as to those unfamiliar with, the source material. Following Martyn’s eyesandears lore, and using the Watchers as a chorus,

Some things to note:

The major characters, in order of importance, are: Martyn (because I’m following his lore, because he had the easiest storyline to adapt into a narrative setting due to the lore... and because his Last Life perspective is my favourite); Scott (as the winner of Last Life); and Grian (constant foil to Martyn, plus due to the lore followed, Watcher Grian is canon – that’s too interesting to leave him by the wayside). But, everyone is featured, and every alliance has focus songs.

I’ve tried to keep everything roughly as faithful to the events of Last Life as I can, but I do tweak some timelines, omit some things, and add moments of emotional reflection. This is for cohesion and for fitting with the musical art form.

Memories of 3rd Life are canon, as they are in the series. The fact there was another ‘game’ before their current one is one of the first things mentioned in the musical, and it’s referred to multiple times throughout the course of the musical (giving ‘last life’ a double meaning). Partly because it’s important to the characters, partly because I love it too much.

This follows the headcanon (and out-of-universe truth) that 3rd Life took place in Spring and Last Life in Autumn – there will be references to this in songs.

Ideally, this would not be a sung-through musical. However, due to copyright issues (among everything else), it’ll obviously be impossible to ever stage it. So, information about each song’s place in the narrative will be given in its description, and relevant dialogue will show up in the description and on the screen.

Auditions are currently closed! I’m currently singing in all the parts, but after I’ve released all the songs in order, there will be others singing them.

Finally, though it’s not explicitly relevant to the musical, here’s a long analysis of c!Martyn I wrote – it helps understand the angle I’m coming from with his character.

Song list – and links the relevant posts – below the cut.

-Act One-

1.“Overture/Middle of Nowhere”: We’re introduced to the Last Life world by the Chorus as players spawn in. Martyn seems to hear something, but brushes it off. FINISHED.

2. “Corners of the World”: We introduce Martyn’s character and mindset, and, through him, the burgeoning alliances. COMPOSITION FINISHED, RECORDING NOT.

3. “Down In The Mines”: Bdubs and later Grian relay the tale of the first Boogeyman kill, and the viewer is introduced to what the Boogeyman is.

4. “A(ha)lliances”: The Southlands ally, making a-ha jokes, and Pearl and Scott solidify their alliance via Pearl gifting Scott a life.

5. “You Bet Your Life”: At the end of the session, Tango goes around the server, introducing his game.

6. “Our Will Be Done (Precursor)”: Instrumental track. Martyn hears a mysterious voice speaking to him for the first time (he has no idea it’s the Watchers), telling him to give Ren some Nether Wart. He does so.

7. “The Three Skulls”: Grian introduces a plan of raising the Wither, and we’re fully introduced to his character.

8. “Debts”: Instrumental track. Martyn extinguishes Ren’s burning tower and Ren tells him of his alliance and pledge to Lizzie, reminding him of his time in 3rd Life. FINISHED.

9. “In Spring We Met”: Martyn’s meeting with Ren prompts him to think about how he treated and will treat alliances moving forward. The Watchers prompt him to get closer to Ren and thus further from the Southlands (unbeknownst to him, they want Grian dead). COMPOSITION FINISHED, RECORDING NOT. Note that some lyrics have been altered from the linked extract.

10. “Green, Crimson, Gold”: Joel is now Red after an unlucky session, and news of a Red name – and what that means – spreads throughout the server.

11. “Their Dubious Game”: Prompted by the server’s isolation of Red Joel, Scott wonders about how trustworthy the rules of the game actually are. After all, the forced isolation of Red names this time contradicts his experiences in 3rd Life with Jimmy, while Martyn, breaching the border with the Southlands.

12. “A(ha)alliances (Reprise)”: Time passes, and Martyn grows closer to the Southlands. However, he’s still meeting up with Ren who offers to introduce him to Lizzie and the rest of the Fairy Fort, potentially considering a betrayal. The Voice prompts him to accept this, as they can be useful in its plan.

13. “Their Delicate Game/His Dubious Game”: Grian talks about going beyond the border, showing the Southlanders how to do it. Later, Scott + Martyn discuss Grian's plan to get wither skulls.

14. “Northern Lament”: Below Magical Mountain, Joel fumes at being distrusted by everyone and isolated purely due to his Red name, and vows to get more “friends” soon. Above, Scar muses about being isolated and distrusted for the opposite reason, because of how many lives he has.

15. “Green, Crimson, Gold (Reprise)”: Cleo is betrayed by BigB, and Grian, Bdubs and Cleo fall to Joel or circumstance.

16. “Friends”: The Southlanders are informed of Grian's Redness. Grian desperately tries to kill Mumbo so they can still be with each other, while Martyn joins his first meeting with the Fairy Fort alliance (henceforth the Shadow Alliance).

-Act Two-

17. “Walls”: Scott muses about the many walls built to keep out violence. Grian has been exiled from the Southlands, the stone wall he built separating them. In the Snow Fort, Etho and BDubs build a wall to keep them separate until he can gain a life again. Cleo, wanting vengeance on BigB, meets Scott on the other side of his wall, Scott giving her some sugarcane. Post-song, Grian, Joel and Cleo express their desire to gain lives back from Scar. 

18. “Their Will”: Martyn relays the aims of the Voice, which he now interprets as the Moon, to the rest of the Shadow Alliance, who agree with it.

19. “Die For Me”: In the meeting, Martyn asks if there’s anything recent he should know about the Fairy Fort. They tell him the Fairy Fort has burned down at the hands of Cleo, relaying the tale as a flashback. 

20. “Promises”/“Coal Mine”: Martyn chases Jimmy, who’s stolen his life in the Southlands life-passing ritual, spurred on by the Voice. He lies to Jimmy, telling him they can run away from the Southlands together if he gives him back his life. Jimmy expresses his worry about potentially being the first out again in the process, as this has happened before and he is very vulnerable as a Yellow, and agrees. Martyn runs back with his life straight after.

21. “The Wizard On The Mountain/The Trial of Timmy”: a Yellow Grian rejoins the Southlands, telling them (especially Martyn, as he did not know when this happened due to his absences) how he got a life back from Scar, who’s now Yellow himself. He finds out about what happened with Jimmy, and the Southlands hold a trial about whether he should be exiled or stay in. They will anonymously vote their verdict in a book, Grian campaigning for Jimmy to leave, while the others, minus Martyn, campaign for him to stay. When it is time for them to vote, Martyn votes him in. The Voice is angry at Martyn, asking him why he’s still attached to the Southlands when he wishes to join the Shadow, appearing to him and telling him a demonstration is in order... “Lights extinguish/Begin the Slaughter/Our Will Be Done!”

22. “Red, Crimson, Gold (Reprise 2)”: Grian manages to get his three skulls, but as he’s distracted by this aim, the other members of the South fall to boogeymen, of which there are six of this session, due to the Voice’s promise. Impulse falls to Yellow at Scott’s hands, and Mumbo and Jimmy both become Red, along with many other players on the server, including Lizzie and once more, Joel.

23. “A(ha)lliances (Reprise 2)”: Grian, Impulse, Martyn find south blown up by Mumbo, and burn the walls in commemoration. Grian and Martyn don't trust each other, while Impulse doesn't want his loyalty to be doubted (as the only one fully on board with the alliance). Meanwhile, the alliance between Scott, Pearl, Cleo strengthens, and Etho and Bdubs discover their wither skull missing. Impulse turns Red.

24. “When Will You Learn?”: Heading back to the Southlands, Grian and Martyn meet Jimmy and Mumbo, who attack them. Grian kills them both, to Martyn’s shock, and, shocked himself, tries to defend his actions. All of a sudden, the Voice appears again and a Boogeyman curse strikes Martyn. Prompted by the Voice (seeming to have a specific hatred of Grian) and by vengeance for Mumbo and Jimmy, Martyn immediately moves to kill Grian. He succeeds, but the kill is attributed to Joel, who has sniped him. Exhausted, Martyn managed to kill Tango. When called to another Shadow meeting, he returns to his empty Southlands tower instead.

25. “Unnamed Wither Song (Proper)”: The Wither is raised by Grian and Impulse in Team BEST’s base. Etho wants to run, but Bdubs attacks it, giving him the courage to attack too – however, Bdubs loses a life to it, turning Red once more. The remaining Greens and Yellows flock to fight it as the Reds join in, trying to kill the other players. The Wither is defeated by Etho; Impulse falls to Scott’s hand, dying permanently; Bdubs takes Lizzie’s final life as he was promised a life in exchange for killing a Red; he is shot by Grian as he runs to Etho to inform him of this.

26. Unnamed Song: In the aftermath, Etho mourns BDubs’ death, while Ren mourns his failure to protect his Shadow Queen, even if she was Red.

27. “Our Will Be Done”: Waking up all alone, Martyn hallucinates his dead friends, thinking about how even when he tried not, to he STILL got attached, how he's only a follower of the Voice (just like he was just a follower of Ren back in 3rd Life). He questions the Voice/Watchers, finally snapping at the,. Why are they speaking to him? Why are they hell-bent on killing Grian? What did he mean? Why does he have to follow it when he wants to do the opposite of what they tell him? Who are they – why should he do anything they say? However, they pacify him, promising that if he does what they say, they will bring Impulse, Mumbo and Jimmy back. Martyn concedes.

28. “Scott’s Elegy”: Scott, cursed as the Boogeyman once more makes a decision to surrender himself to the curse instead, as he doesn’t want to kill any more allies with so few lives left in the game.

29. “Boogie Boogie On The Dance Floor”: The Chorus informs us that it is the last day. Pearl is chosen as the Boogeyman, rigging a TNT trap on a disco floor, turning Ren’s red. The others quickly fall to the Reds, including Cleo.

30. “Martyn’s Stand”: Now left as the last Yellow, Martyn decides he is tired of hiding, deciding to finally take his fate into his own hands and make a last stand against everyone, heading to a mountain and pouring lava down the sides as a beacon for the Reds. However, though he puts up a good fight, he doesn’t manage to take any of them down before dying himself, marking the server entirely Red. 

31. “Battle Royale”: With the Reds having turned on each other, the four survivors – Pearl, Scott, Ren and Martyn – agree to a Battle Royale to decide the victor. Pearl dies early on, prompting Scott to grieve and resolve to win this fight, no matter what it takes. Martyn eventually falls to his own End Crystal. Only Scott and Ren are left, and they fight to the voices of dead players telling them to play the game. After a long fight, Scott manages to kill Ren, partially due to a zombie which he interprets as the world maybe doing something after all for his defiance. He is crowned the winner. However, the Voice does not like this, the Chorus supporting this, and Scott is stricken dead with heavenly lightning.

32. “Plainly Spoken [Epilogue]”: All is silence, and yet Martyn opens his eyes once more, to the Voice and the Chorus, now joined as they are the same entity, informing him how disappointed they are in him, and that he is heading closer and closer to the light. As he asks questions, he is cut off, and they say he will forget all that has happened with them as he and everyone else moves into the next game. Up above, the land is now in the state it was at the start of “Middle of Nowhere”, and they are revealed to be those that run the death loop.