#other songs sounds like what you expect yet this song is there. its the imposter among them lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aceofspadegrass · 3 years

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What? What’s that I see? Is it- is it another heist fic??!? :O

Heisting Yet Again

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Last Boss, Chishiya Shuntaro, @a-simp-20 , @niragis-right-hand-rabbit , and your local bread pentagon, Me

Genre: Crack. We're fucking heisting again.

2.3k words

Well what do you know! There is :0!!! Looks like we're at it again guys, causing havoc to Hatter and having fun while we're doing it!

And look, there's even a guest joining us! How fancy! What have we stolen today folks? Well, guess you'll have to find out!

Hatter thought they were gone for good after they stole his precious couch. It was peaceful at the Beach, as peaceful as it could get anyways, and the days were going by swimmingly. He even got a new couch to replace his old couch, which soon became just as loved as his previous couch. He still hadn’t forgotten the robbery, of course, and if he ever saw those three ever again he’d give them a stern talking to before he set the militants loose on their asses. They were traitors after all, and everyone knew what he did to traitors.

If they were smart, they’d stay out of the way of the Beach’s wrath. Hatter was sure they’d try to evade him and anyone with the bracelet that noted them as members, but there was only so much of them compared to the hundreds of people under his beck and call that could bring them kicking and screaming back to his land. Why come back to the place they had forsaken except to die, after all.

But alas, he was sorely mistaken in that thought, as he wakes up in bed to light humming, and rather itchy wrists. He tugs his hand closer to his core without making a sound, the coarse and familiar feel of rope around his wrist telling him all he needed. For good measure he tries to pull his legs, but his ankles seemed to be under the same type of bounds.

The humming continues on, undeterred, as if they knew Hatter was unable to do anything. He turns his head, and in the darkness of the room he can make out a vague silhouette trodding around his room without a care in the world, and the song was somewhat recognizable, but nothing Hatter could name.

Keeping his cool, he whistles to catch their attention, the person yelping and whipping around. That earns a chuckle out of him, followed by an annoyed whine by the other.

“ That was mean, you know! You scared me!” They whined, Hatter still chuckling.

“ Aww, but it was necessary! So! Do tell, dear, what are you doing in my room, hm? I’m in quite a predicament here-“ He tugs again at the coarse rope that bounded his arm to the bed, “ And while I don’t mind whatever comes to be in bed between me and my partner, I don’t believe I’ve ever met you~ Or have I? I’m sure you look lovely in the light.” He purrs in an inquisitive manner. The person just stays still, and from what limited light Hatter had, they were actually fidgeting a little, as if willing to walk out and leave him there.

He had to tread lightly. Whoever this was, they couldn’t be here for a rousing game of Bed Twister, seeing as he was still dressed and there was not a single inch of mood lighting. Scandalous to just do it without even a little festivities and scenery slapped in, with only ropes to keep him company.

“ Well, actually that’s just so I don’t, like…. die. Anyways, it was nice talking to you, but I have things to do!” The person approaches, and Hatter tries to get a glimpse of their face, of anything recognizable. He only gasps as they get closer and the only thing he picks up is a closed unslutty version of his kimono and an obviously printed picture of… wait is that his face? Was his rope tying captor wearing his iconic face and kimono? In his room?

“ Oh, is that what I think it is? I dare say, I wasn’t aware you liked me that much that you’d imitate me~ I’m flattered~” The person actually snorts at that, and pats his entire face with their unnaturally cold hand, fingers splayed and in short bursts, Hatter not expecting it and jerking his head away with a laugh. “ Oh my, what did you do earlier to make them that cold-” “ Exist! Anyways, here you go!” They chirp, and there’s a faint quack noise as something is plopped on his chest and they walk away, Hatter watching them go with a pout.

“ I do think you’re forgetting something, what are you to do about my rather…… prone position?~ You can not simply leave me like this!” “ Uuuhhhhh…….. get that cool steak-looking guy to help! Okay bye, have fun!” They call out to him before opening the door and starting to leave, Hatter getting only the barest glimpse of the back of their head.

Only, this also lets him get a glimpse of whatever was placed on him, and once he saw the tiny goose on his chest coming up to his face, honking softly, he can only lay there bound like a prisoner as it comes closer with murder in its eyes before the light was snatched like his couch.

" Oh sweet toma- AH IT'S GOT MY NOSE-"

Morning comes, and Aguni comes in to Hatter’s face being used as a nest, the goose happily settled over his eyes. Aguni pauses for a second, confused, the goose napping.

“ Uhh…. should I come back later-“ “ Oh, Aguni, a little help here? I have been ravaged like no other!” Hatter calls out the moment he hears Aguni, the man coming over and looking down at his friend, Hatter’s wrists still tied to the corners. He quickly gets to work untying them, Hatter shooting up the moment he was free, the goose honking as it was launched off Hatter’s face and left to fall down onto his lap. Hatter pushes it off of him, not at all caring at the moment of its safety in favour of his own, taking off the covers and untying his poor ankles free. Aguni watches from the side of the bed with folded arms, Hatter getting up and rubbing his sore wrists with a frown.

“ Oh, you wouldn’t believe the horror last night!” “ Did another one set you up?” Hatter shakes his head, and wanders around the room and making sure everything was still in place. “ Even worse! I woke up to such a position, and without something there to keep warm in bed, and yet someone was here with me! Imitating my looks, but without the sexy factor, can you believe the horror? Oh, woe! I didn’t think it was possible!” Hatter held the back of his hand to his forehead, dramatically dipping back as if to faint. He remains on his feet, and smiles a little when Aguni puts a supporting hand on his back to help him back to a normal stand, Hatter looking at him with a now serious glint. “ I do believe they’re back, Aguni.”

Aguni cocks an eyebrow, face staying stoic. “ The ones that stole your couch?” “ That’s the one! I’m sure of it! After all, why else would they come in here and take the time to assure I could not apprehend them myself? They’re here to steal something.” Hatter grabs Aguni’s shoulders, staring deep into his eyes as his face falls into a crazed smile. “ Death to traitors, after all. We need to find them before they get away.” Aguni nods slowly, and Hatter lets go, pushing Aguni away as he marches out of his room with a totally not unhinged giggle. Aguni rolls his eyes and follows after, Hatter marching his way down and knocking on all of the executive’s doors to wake them up. There was no time to waste after all!

It takes a while, but eventually everyone is up, sitting or standing where they preferred, Hatter briefing all of them on the situation at hand. Niragi looked rather annoyed, leaning back in his seat and combing what hairs he didn’t managed to pull up into his bun out of his face.

“ Why the fuck would they come back? That’s a fucking death wish if I’ve ever seen one.” Niragi groans. “ It’s fucking too early for this." “ Well, who’s to say they haven’t already left? Didn’t you say that this….. imposter of yours entered your room possibly hours before? It would be stupid to stay this long.” Chishiya says with that all knowing tone in his voice, Hatter nodding.

“ Yes, but there’s a chance they haven’t! They must’ve been scouting out what to take next before the actual heist!” Hatter rebukes, and gives Chishiya a warning glance when Chishiya looks unconvinced.

“ So you need us to patrol the entire Beach for them, got it. Let’s go, time’s wasting.” Aguni gets up, looking at Niragi and Last Boss, Niragi getting up with a grunt and grabbing his gun. The three of them leave, and Hatter soon shoos the rest of them out to help search the entire Beach again for the three musketeers and see if anything looked out of place.

Hours pass, and yet when they regroup, nobody could offer anything of use. Ann even questioned if they were even there to take anything, but Hatter had a hunch, he just felt it in his bones. So they separate once more, Hatter making sure to comb every single place in his domain. How dare they, really, coming back here to try their luck once more.

The sound of what at first sounded like gunshots catches his attention, but he dismisses it at first, believing the militants were just doing something. Then when he hears it again followed by terrified yells, he looks up towards the source, only to see a rather giant grey dinosaur with an orange beak.

“ Hah….?” Hatter comes over to take a close look, and the dinosaur was in fact not a dinosaur, but might as well be one, the bird looking at Hatter’s direction and fluffing up its wings. Hatter stares at the massive grey mass of feather and the tiny crown that seemed to be held by a thin string around its head, the bird raising its head and making that gun-like sound again.

“ Oh, well then hello to you too- Where did you come from-“ Hatter takes another step closer, and the bird just bows its head with a head shake and then wanders off, Hatter watching it go. People around it were catering away, staring at the beast of a bird and giving it distance.

“ Strange bird….” Hatter mutters, watching it wander away. Something in his gut begged him to follow, and Hatter was a man of will, so he starts to follow this creature wherever it was heading.

It was good that he did, as he sees a very familiar trio of people, one of which was still wearing his face and kimono. The other two were wearing normal clothes, one in a different robe and petting the giant bird with a fond smile while the other was more modestly in simple street wear and a head covering. “ Hey! There you are!” Hatter calls out, and they all look in his direction.

“ Oh hewwo!” The one wearing his face waves to him, the other two waving as well. “ Don’t worry, we’re just gonna…… RUN! Go go go!” They gesture away from Hatter in three rapid hand motions. They’re all running away as fast as they could, and Hatter was not about to let them get away, chasing after them as fast as he could. With how he generally appeared, he looked like he wouldn’t have much stamina, but they have also never taken him to bed on a good day.

And today was gonna be a fucking beautiful day.

The three were still within Beach territory and therefore still had people to deal with, even if they had congregated in a less populated area, and Hatter pretty much knew the layout like the back of his hand. They ran through the space, Hatter having to move this way and that to keep them within sight. That bird was actually following them rather obediently, seeming content, Hatter internally thanking the bird for leading him to their little meetup spot.

Niragi and Last Boss appear around the corner just as they were coming up, Niragi laughing and raising his gun, fully intent on shooting them down. Even Last Boss got ready to attack, grabbing ahold of his sword.

“ Oh hi there you two!” The woman that was petting the bird earlier greets. The third of their little squad immediately just separates from the group to avoid Niragi and Last Boss altogether, the remaining two still running head on towards them.

“ Hah! You think that’s gonna stop me? I’m gonna shoot you right-“ He doesn’t get to finish as the girl leaps up and grabs his head to pull it closer, giving him a kiss right there on his cheek and slipping past the crispy raisin cake.

“ Bye you sexy giraffe! Stay sexy!” She calls out as she runs off, the second somehow slipping past the two militants along with the bird.

“ Remember to practice safety procedures you two! Don’t let your ankles get eaten!” The other yells, Hatter rushing past them as they stood there stunned by the act that just occurred.

Hatter was intent on catching them, and yet they seemingly had too much energy and nothing in their hands. Perhaps it was something small, like all the bathroom mints, or maybe even a hidden pistol underneath their clothes. Either way he had to stop them and put an end to them.

They make it out to where the cars where, and Hatter finally sees just what they stole:

“ Hey! That’s my wine cabinet!” Hatter yells, absolutely appalled by this egregious crime, the poor cabinet strapped onto a new car like it was nothing more than a box of wood as the three infiltrators climb in, the bird joining in the backseat. The one wearing the head covering peeks out with a smile. “ Oh, that’s not all! We also took all of your instant pancake mixes I hope you don’t mind!”

“ Excuse me, I do mind, thank you very little!”

The driver, now the woman that had kissed Niragi’s cheek like no big deal, pokes her head out and waves.

“ Oh well! See you later! This was fun!” She shouts before the engine rumbles to life and they peel away with his cabinet.

“ Oh you three……!” Hatter stares as they drive away with their second successful heist, shaking his head in disbelief and thinly veiling anger in his smile. “ You three are in for it now!~”

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #hatter #takeru danma #morizono aguni #niragi suguru #last boss #takatora samura #chishiya shuntaro #you would think we'd be caught by now but this is also the laws of fiction so we're apparently great heisters #hatter not being able to catch us part two #yes of course I let you kiss niragi the chance was RIGHT THERE!#we're 100% on his hitlist in this version of the Beach #apparently I have several versions for the same Beach: one where we're criminals and one where we're not :D #then again the one where we're not also includes a giraffe with a man's head on it soooooo-#it's all just a combined ball of weaved yarn the universe is funky like that #in reality I would probably die the moment I start running-#yes I'm the one wearing Hatter's face it's just how it is #ask

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everything-laito · 4 years

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could you analyze Q.E.D? owo

Anon, you do not even REALIZE how long I’ve wanted to do this. Song lyrics are always challenging for me though, which is why I’ve never gotten around doing it. But, since I have confidence in Laito’s character and his context, I think I can do it. I get most of my DL song lyrics from Silvermoon on live journal, so special thanks to them! If you wanna listen to Q.E.D, it’s on my Soundcloud!

Please note that this analysis is a lot more loose because it’s from a song. Stuff like this is typically up to interpretation even more than Laito’s regular game script. After writing this, I discovered that @/the-madame21 had her own interpretation that QED is Laito talking to Cordelia inside of Yui. So I’m just getting imposter syndrome thinking that this analysis isn’t good enough because it’s not as “confident” as my other ones, but oh well! I hope you enjoy my interpretation too!

Let’s dive in! (and if you have anything to add on, please do, I had a bit of trouble with figuring some stuff out; song lyrics are pretty much poetry which is my weakness haha) Full thing under the cut!

As time passes, the more it expires, fading away Love dies only when growth stops If everything was laid bare, no matter what, Would the heat of the feelings from that day lessen?

I do believe the first line has to do with Laito being a vampire, with his seemingly eternal life. I don’t know what he means by “that day,” either it has to do with Cordelia or Yui. I had trouble understanding what “if everything was laid bare” so I looked up an alternative translation that said “If everything were gone, and nobody could change what went wrong,” Both essentially say the same thing, so I know it’s just a translational choice. So, I believe this is Laito questioning his emotions and thoughts about how love works.

His statement of “Love dies only when growth stops” sounds more of a definite one; like he’s confident in it. It’s also an absolute statement, which we should all know that absolute statements should be avoided, because there are always exceptions. To me, this implies that he doesn’t have a lot of experience with love––aside from the feelings he’s experienced. Which we know is true (until Yui really, considering this his his more blood character song) and we know it’s not true love with him and Cordelia.

I think the “growth” part in that really made me think. What does he mean by growth? I’m not fairly experienced in romantic love, but I do know love of any kind (platonic, family) you both grow together or off of each other. It’s a constructive relationship, but the “when growth stops” stumped me, because people typically never stop growing. But, in Laito lingo I think “growth” might mean until he gets bored? It makes sense to his character but I can’t say for sure.

Even if my life was surely coming to and end, Entertaining the faint hope that this blood of mine will be passed on, The crystal of love it emitted in your body, “……―――It’s meaningless”

This... Kinda sounds like the hint of getting someone pregnant, but I really don’t think this is the case. The “crystal love” is also hard to say what that’s about, but I believe that has to do with biting/fangs. To Laito, pleasure = love, and in this case specifically, (whether we’re dealing with Cordelia or Yui) pain (typically from fangs) = pleasure = love. As for him mentioning his blood, I’m not sure if that’s a reference to turning Yui into a vampire in the first game (x to doubt kinda) or Yui and Laito “intertwining/becoming one” at the end of his More Blood’s route. But, I’m not sure! Because blood as a motif means many things within DL and in real life.

I do believe this is Laito going back and forth believing in love or not. He’s been through so much shit which is why he says “its meaningless” despite him “entertaining the faint hope.” He’s shutting down his optimistic thoughts in an attempt to be realistic.

Ah, as time passes, Even if it was somehow replaced, There’s no proof that I ever loved you or anything “………Because I didn’t want to say it”

THIS. THIS. GOD, it kills me. I do think by this point we know he’s talking about Yui. Sure he’s told Yui that he loves her but it was more of a meaningless thing. Yet again he says it genuinely in the scene where him and Yui do it consensually. So, I don’t know! This whole song is vague!!! But what else do we expect from him.

He’s basically saying that if he moved on to love someone else, there was no proof that he loved them, but like how he directly says, it’s because he didn’t want to say it. Hesitance like this probably links back to the previous lyrics of him going back and forth with whether love has meaning or not.

After all, it’s all over, isn’t it? In time, won’t everything disappear, no matter what? So without robbing us of our ‘now,’ stringing the memories together, As the continuous bloodsucking stretched out into ‘eternity,’ If you say you wish for ‘immortality,’ We’ll prove it now! Together with you, Q. E. D. ―――…………!!!!!

Queue “It’s Over, Isn’t It” from Steven Universe This is like... optimistic nihilism (which I so vibe with lol) and I think this is Laito saying he just wants to focus on the present and get rid of the thoughts he previously said in this song (whether it be through healthy ways or unhealthy ways... it’s probably the latter). This does insinuate Yui’s presence, and him turning her into a vampire. This I believe is just another distraction for him to attempt to avoid his circling, depressing thoughts.

Now we gotta talk about what QED means. QED is an acronym for the Latin phrase “quod erat demonstrandum,” which means “what was to be shown.” In math or a philosophical argument, it’s used at the end of an argument or problem to basically say “it’s been proven.” Wikipedia also adds on that it can mean “thus it has been demonstrated” when used in this light.

Laito’s “QED” is his desperate effort to prove if his feelings and thoughts are correct. Man it’s taken me years to actually figure out what he means by this, but this is my own interpretation.

As the time of death approaches, the nearer it draws, coming into view There is always light behind No matter who, everyone is praying to someone There is just little remaining of that day, isn’t there?

I’m still so confused what he means by “that day.” I know this is Laito we’re talking about, but come on LOL. From this I have a feeling it’s about Cordelia and maybe the first day she abused him? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s meaning that he’s moving beyond Cordelia. I do like these lyrics because it’s super poetic. As for the “everyone is praying to someone,” this doesn’t mean everyone believes in a god, this just means that everyone has that one person they either look up to or look to gain a moral compass. That’s what a religion (to my understanding) essentially is at its basis.

Even if we quietly tried to abandon hope, Your lips on mine again and again, as this bittersweet time passes by somewhere, The crystal of love it left within my heart, “……―――It’s worthless”

This is Laito admitting that he’s feeling love really. This is through Yui’s own love too. But him saying “it’s worthless” is another desperate attempt at him trying to be “realistic” and to not get his hopes up.

Hey―――………Shall we dream? That we fell ill, and there were days we couldn’t see If the proof that the two of us were alive is stained red, “………Forgive me”

The way he says “forgive me” in the song is SO desperate and sad. But I think this implies that he’s asking for forgiveness for his past actions? I do think that he knows he’s twisted but he just doesn’t know anything else aside from his normalcy. Sure his actions aren’t justified but they’re explainable.

I also think his “dream” he suggests is maybe he wants to feel alive? Maybe him feeling like his feelings “aren’t valid” because he feels that they’re “human” emotions. Because in the games he repeatedly states how he’s a vampire and not alive etc but it’s interesting how he says “if the proof that the two of us were alive” like woah buddy

The tone that depicted the future of tomorrow always shattered in your ear In your torn eardrum, it left behind a dangerous red wish As the continuous whispers stretched into ‘eternity,’ If you say you wish for ‘immortality,’ We’ll prove it now! Together with you, Q. E. D. ―――…………!!!!!

This might reference that really.... awful.... terrible.... scene in ecstasy 04 of HDB. (I think it’s 04 ((edit: its 03 LOL I should’ve checked)) but it’s the really really uh awful one) But again I’m not sure. He does still reference turning Yui into a vampire though which is interesting, because that’s the only thing I can think of an “eternal love” being.

“If there’s no such thing as ‘eternity,’ I want to destroy this time… That’s…what I’d wished……”

This man really just wants to grasp onto things for eternity, goddamn. I think that he still just wants to distract himself or something because I’m not sure what else he would mean by that.

Only this feeling, Forgetting the ‘warmth’ that lived, Somehow, it’s becoming vague That’s not the only thing―――……!

This seems that he’s slowly forgetting Cordelia’s “love”, which is nice. Because it’s been a long time and the whole “that’s not the only thing” might imply that he’s losing himself in other ways too aside from the feeling of Cordelia.

After all, it’s all over, isn’t it? In time, won’t everything disappear, no matter what? So without robbing us of our ‘now,’ Stringing the memories together, as the continuous bloodsucking Stretched out into ‘eternity,’ If you say you wish for ‘immortality,’ We’ll prove it now! Together with you, Q. E. D. ―――…………!!!!!

(I already analyzed these lines haha) but wow I love this song. I know this isn’t as confident as my other analyses but I hope this suffices, anon!

As always, thanks for reading, and the ask box is open for any business you may have with me!

Ciao! -Corn

#ask corn #kernels #Laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #diabolic lovers #dialovers #dl #dialover #sakamaki raito #raito sakamaki #analysis

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dissidiacloudstrife · 4 years

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[slides in to torment you with Way Too Many questions] 1 through 6 for honey, 8 through 12 for clover, 13 through 17 for bluebell, 18 through 23 for vale, 24 through 27 for baaby, and 28 through 30 for that morosexual mordrem

LONG POST AHEAD I GUESS

Honeysuckle:

1. Did you have a theme in mind when you designed them? What was it? honey was originally made ngl, to have nsfw dealings with another friends oc. that sounds so bad now but i promise the other oc was also a horny bastard. but she grew into her own character!

2. How would someone find them in a crowd? just look for her plants! on her head grows a huge japanese honeysuckle!

3. Do they dance at a party? What about when they’re alone? honey used to be an assassin so she can pretty much do any dancing with someone, but alone she likes to do spins and get dizzy

4. What’s their ideal pizza? “are my husband, and datemates a pizza” honestly she probably wouldnt enjoy pizza v much

5. Post a song that reminds you of them. I HAVE A WHOLE PLAYLIST FOR HER....ITS SO LONG...but this is the song that rly jump started her into turning into her own character: Patchwork Stacatto

6. How would you describe their fashion? honestly sexy! she likes to show off her body, but likes to wear huge ballgown type dresses. she likes the Attention.

Clover:

8. Would they have noticed there’s no “7″ in this list? you motherfucker. no probably not at first, if it was something medical related tho he probably would!

9. What would they do with a large sum of anonymously gifted money? he’d be confused and wouldnt know what to do with it. he doesnt really need money because the priory pretty much pays for his expeditions as long as they get to publish his works, so he’d probably donate it to people he knew

10. Do they have a “type”? This can include preferences in friends. its apparently big sunshine men. absolutely beaming boys. full of love and positivity

11. If they were in a book, what genre would it be? What might their TVTropes page look like? medical drama! i sadly dont rly know much tvtropes to put him in any, besides like, anxiety, tired doctor.

12. Are they a good cook? good enough for himself and his husband! theyre normal dishes, nothing fancy when youre traveling most of the time.

Bluebell:

13. Do they have any comfort objects? her armor and weapons! outside of that, the heirloom forgal gave her before he died

14. How do they see themself? a strong woman who’s had to go through a lot of shit to get where she is. she thinks shes had to got through more than a lot of people should have, but doesnt know how to think about it, in and of itself.

15. How would someone best comfort them? sitting with her and putting your arm around her. she doesnt like talking unless its with very specific people. but silent, and gentle touches are welcomed.

16. What’s their ideal vacation? “going back home to my family, but i dont know who that is anymore”

17. What’s their ideal meal? a vanilla ice coffee with some sautéed veggies and like some spicy dolyak meat.

Vale:

18. How do they respond to pressure and responsibility? hahaha he didnt! it was very much a kind “dont feel” for the longest time; his pressure was put on by his dad, and to be able to have a few kids. (which he has one and he regrets it a ton) it was always impossible missions and responsibility when your dad is bagnar :’) and he would expect vale to do everything to perfection.

19. Do they have a favorite animal, or an ideal pet? not really! thought vale likes minotaurs a lot as like a power symbol

20. What’s their favorite weather? before becoming champion, it was the weather around grothmar. that was his home for a long time. so contemporary, and not much humidity. now its obviously Blizzard Babey

21. When their friends are in danger, how do they respond? with seriousness, and tactically. its to try and get them out of the danger ASAP, but not risking their own life if it was like, a 0% chance either of them would live

22. How do they feel about sailing or swimming in deep water, far from the shore? the swimming would honestly be a pressure off of him, despite deep water having pressure. he wouldnt have to worry about anything, nobody expects anything out of him, it would be blissful.

23. How good are they are first aid? he could do military first aid, but nothing amazing. he wasnt a medic, and even as champion the most he can do is refreeze a team mate so they dont fall apart.

Baaby:

24. How big is their friend group? How close? its pretty much only marigold and bubbles, and theyre family to each other. baaby didnt hate her family until she came out as trans and then it was hell for her, so she left. marigold and bubbles support her and she doesnt have to worry about them trying to sabotage anything she makes for competitions.

25. What’s their relationship with their family? it was okay before she came out, they were pretty much turning the other way when she expressed an interest in music since she was still inventing other things. but being trans was just One thing too much, and she decided to leave rata sum, and found marigold. later on bubbles, and theyve all been best friends, and family to each other ever since.

26. If they find a lost dog, do they try to find its owner? Adopt it? Leave it? she’d try to find their owner first! if she couldnt she would just hold onto them and then give them to someone who would want a dog. she and the band dont really have time for one right now despite bubbles cooing at them.

27. Do they have any scars? not really! shes taken pretty good care of herself during experiments, and is proud of her body after she’s able to make hormones for herself (idk if HRT would be a huge thing yet)

im just gonna call them Imposter for now bc thats their namesake:

28. Do they have any tattoos, piercings, or other body modifications? nothing identifiable! maybe later after mordremoth’s defeat, but theyre a infiltrator, and therefore their original form has no discernable features so its easier to illusion it

29. How well do they sleep at night? they dont! :)

30. Would they heat up canned food, or eat it straight from the can? they’d eat the can. like unopen, just, eat the can and the food inside. at once.

#long post #LIKE REALLY LONG POST #syl did this to yall not me #wheezes jfc that was LOT #hmsdivinity

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haulix · 6 years

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5 Music Industry Predictions for 2019

Everyone knows the saying, “new year, new you,” but does that mantra apply to industries as well?

The Music business is evolving at an unprecedented rate. Less than ten years ago no one knew if consumers would embrace premium streaming platforms, and Less than five years ago the idea of communicating with a speaker in your home still sounded like something from The Jetsons.

2019 is shaping up to be just as wild as any year prior. Streaming is now the most popular way to access music, but there continues to be a demand for physical product. Smart speakers are helping people consume more material than ever, yet many fear the access those products give corporations into consumers’ private lives. There’s also an entire generation of music legends embarking on farewell tours, young acts trying to establish themselves as the next big thing, and an ever-present chance that someone no one in power has ever heard of will spring to the top of the charts thanks to a viral video, meme, or song stream.

We cannot and would not pretend to know what the future holds, but there are things we feel would benefit that could easily happen in the months ahead. Here are a few:

Fan clubs are back and more beneficial than ever.

In the dark age, otherwise known as the time before social media, fan clubs were the primary way consumers stayed connected to their favorite artists. For a low fee, often paid monthly, fans were granted access to exclusive content, pre-sales, and even music.

These days everyone has access to every artist they enjoy through social media. The problem is that open access can overrun artists’ lives. Between Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter it is very easy for an artist to spend all day responding to comments and messages. The engagement is nice, but as an artist’s popularity grows (and/or they begin to age) their time becomes more and more valuable.

There’s also a problem with exposure on social media. An artist can have 10,000 fans on either platform, but the number of people who see their updates is far less. The only way to guarantee reach is through paid promotions, and many in the industry are struggling to see the point of giving money to third-party services to reach their fans.

The solution to both of these issues is fan clubs. Anyone can choose to follow an artist on social media, but those who want direct access and knowledge of new developments can do so through direct support that benefits the artist and makes it easier for music to be their sole source of income. Artists, in turn, thank fans with exclusive announcement, chats, pre-sales, new music streams, merchandise, and anything else that comes to mind. Everyone wins!

Competition for booking grows as tribute bands gain popularity.

The legends of modern music have begun to leave the spotlight. Some have died, but others are choosing to retire. In the last year alone, Paul Simon, Ozzy Osbourne, Lynyrd Skynyrd, KISS, Slayer, Bob Seger, Elton John, and George Clinton have all announced or embarked upon farewell tours. The tickets for these shows are high, often starting at $100 or more, and the demand for those tickets is great.

The solution, both for fans and venues in need of talent alike, are tribute bands. The cost to book these acts is low, which means tickets are reasonable, and the target market is old enough to ensure strong beer and liquor sales.

This winter, Live Nation has begun promoting concert series in various cities featuring numerous tribute acts. Groups are covering classic bands like AC/DC (Thunderstruck) and Van Halen (Panama), as well newer groups such as Dave Matthews Band (Trippin’ Billies), Korn (Freak On A Leash), and The Beastie Boys (Imposters In Effect). There are even tribute bands for specific eras in music, such as Saved by The 90s, emo (The Emo Band), and the 80s (Power 80s).

Tribute bands make it possible for venues of all sizes to host events promoting the biggest hits of all time for a fraction of the price demanded by the original songwriters/performers. They also make it easy for people to have a night out with live music without taking risks on artists that might not entertain them. The only real losers are original acts.

Apple Music almost catches up to Spotify.

Spotify is the reigning champ of music streaming. For the last decade, no other premium streaming platform has been able to compete with the popularity of Spotify, but that could change in 2019.

Spotify ended last year with 83 million paid subscribers, but Apple Music is coming on strong at 57 million. Apple is also growing faster, perhaps due in part to its newness compared to Spotify. With rumors of an Apple video streaming service on the horizon, the tech giant is also expected to announce several updates to its music efforts as well. At the very least it’s likely a bundle for video and audio will be offered, which may be enough to convert subscribers away from the competition.

Streaming services become news outlets.

You knew where the latest John Mayer music video premiered? Spotify. You know where the latest Halsey video premiered? Apple Music. You know where you can see musicians speaking about their upcoming release directly to consumers? Apple Music and Spotify.

Between Spotify’s efforts to introduce original video content to consumers and Apple Music’s increased focus on editorials to accompany new releases, both streaming giants seem destined to tip their toes into the world of music news in 2019.

Think about consumption for a moment. Virtually everyone is accessing music through streaming services. Blogs still host premieres, of course, but the vast majority of consumers are hearing new songs for the first time through their preferred streaming platform. With that in mind, it makes sense that those services would also consider offering tour dates and other relevant information. That could be achieved by hiring writers or through further empowering artists. Either way, value would be added.

Charts matter less and less.

Billboard charts have been considered the best way to gauge the interests of the public for the last half-century. The charts have attempted to evolve with the times, introducing new rules that consider streams as sales, but the influence they carry in the music industry has begun to wane.

The new way to gauge popularity is playlists. After all, it’s the songs topping the Spotify and Apple Music charts that inevitably decide what tops Billboard. Streaming services have up to the minute information on the pulse of music culture. They know what’s going to be popular next before anyone else, so why should we continue looking elsewhere for information we can find ourselves with a few clicks on our phone or desktop computers?

#music business #music industry #music #predictions #music biz #2019 #streaming #fan clubs #tribute acts #tributes

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pengychan · 7 years

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[Coco] Down to Dust, Pt. 2

Title: Down to Dust Summary: Months after it all came crashing down, Ernesto’s to-do list is short: stay hidden, and wait for the Final Death. Héctor’s is even shorter: enjoy being with his family again. But life - or rather, the living - will get in the way even of the simplest plans. Characters: Hector Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, the Rivera family in general, Miguel Rivera, Socorro Rivera.

[Part 1 can be found here. All parts up so far here.]

Día de los Muertos, again. Had it really been a year, and one year only? It felt like so much longer.

And yet I am still here. And will be here the next, and the next, and the next. Whether they get their hands on me or not, I’m going precisely nowhere.

Sitting at the edge of a canal, back against a crumbling brick wall - wouldn’t it be fun if the archway above him collapsed on him right now? Heavy things did have a tendency to fall on his head - Ernesto de la Cruz took another swig from the bottle and glanced up. It was something he tried not to do often, because each time he caught a glimpse of what had been his mansion, and it stung too much to ignore. There it was, bathed in light amidst the celebrations whose sounds - whose music - did not reach Shantytown. The show must go on, he’d told Héctor the previous year, and indeed it was going on… but without him.

I should be preparing myself for the Sunrise Spectacular right now. It is all wrong.

And instead there he was, hidden away and drinking himself into a stupor. He did not sing anymore, or even hum to himself; hardly any point in doing so without anybody to listen. He’d tried to sing once, to distract himself from the constant hammering of rain on the tin roof above his head, but it had felt as though the words had turned to ash in his mouth. Even a drink couldn’t wash that taste away. He’d never tried again since.

You play at your best with a public, Héctor had pointed out a long time ago, and it was true. Performing was what he’d loved the most, the one thing that drove him to do his very best, and now he had no public except for dogs the size of rats and rats the size of dogs. For a moment he wondered if Héctor was in his old mansion, celebrating with the rabble he’d lived with until the previous year, but of course he was not. He was certainly off to the Land of the Living to see his precious family, that insufferable sap, and stuff his face with the offerings that accursed boy must have laid out for him. Ernesto wondered if there was any chance either of them would choke.

Well, a man can dream.

The thought of the boy made him clench his hand around the bottle hard enough to almost snap a finger. Oh, if he'd left him to drown in his pool! But no, he had to go and help him, and and look how he'd thanked him. Not only he’d destroyed his reputation in the Land of the Dead, but he’d proceeded to do as much on the other side as well: word had spread, as more and more recently deceased arrived, that he’d managed to find proof that Héctor, and not him, had written the songs.

He had not talked about murder directly - that would be harder to prove - but the fact Héctor had gone missing in unexplained circumstances, along with the fact Ernesto played the guitar that had belonged to him, had been enough to convince most people that something must indeed have happened. Suspicion, speculation, and only a few stubborn fans arguing against it. It was almost worse than being proven a murderer, because at least that would put the matter to rest, allow people to start forgetting him. Instead, it seemed he was even more talked about than he’d ever been. Someone had even written a book, he’d heard people saying. It would be decades, maybe even another century or two or more, before all memory of him could finally fade from the Land of the Living, allowing him to finally pass on to… whatever awaited next. Maybe he would never be forgotten, after all: his name had become synonymous with imposter even among the living.

It’s not fair, he wanted to scream, glaring down at the bottle. I am the reason why you had all of those songs, the only reason. Héctor wanted to keep them for himself, he would have never shared them with the world. You would have never heard them if I hadn’t done what I had to do, what I had to do, what I had to--

You’re a coward!

No, Héctor was the coward, he was, he tried to run off home and leave me on my own, I couldn’t let that happen, everything was crumbling down to dust and I had to do something. He should have listened, if only he’d listened--

Héctor is the real musician! You're just the guy who murdered--

“SHUT UP!”

There was a sound of shattering glass, the yapping of worried alebrijes, the loud bangs of fireworks lighting up the night sky, and Ernesto barely heard any of it. He clutched at his head, eyes tightly shut, realizing only distantly that the low keening noise he was hearing came from his own mouth.

I can’t stand this. I’ll go insane if this keeps going and it will keep going because I cannot die, I cannot die, why won’t they let me die?

There was no answer, but he hadn’t expected any. All he got was yapping and barking, something pawing at him, trying to lick his hands and face. He tore his hands off his head to look down at his alebrijes, at the huge eyes full of concern. He opened his mouth to scream at them, but all that left him was a hoarse whisper.

“You’re supposed to be spirit guides. Tell me what to do.”

They looked up at him, ears pulled back, and whined. Ernesto sat back heavily with a sigh, and shooed them away when they tried to climb on his lap. “Come back when you’ve got a plan,” he muttered, watching them run off, and he didn’t even care how stupid that had to sound. He just made a face, reached for another bottle - the one he’d smashed had been still a quarter full and that was a shame, but he’d come prepared for that night - and brought it his mouth. He didn’t pause until half the contents were gone. Where to? He had no idea. None of the dead had a stomach or even an esophagus to speak of, but somehow whatever they drank didn’t drip down all over their ribs and it did its job when it came to getting them drunk, and that was what mattered.

He went through the bottle, watched the fireworks, went through half of another and then dozed off for a time. He was brought back to awareness by sunrise, and the annoyance of light shining on his eyes. He let out a grunt, blinking blearily, and reached to his left.

His hand closed on something that was not a bottle at all. His thoughts still scattered, he frowned and turned to look at what he’d just grabbed - a shin. He blinked at it for a moment before looking up at its owner; the mere act of tilting back his head caused the world around him to spin, and he stared for several long instants before his brain caught up.

“You’re not tequila,” he finally said, slurring the words.

“No,” Héctor replied, almost agreeably. “I am not tequila.”

***

He hadn’t meant to look for Ernesto - hadn’t even thought of him for a moment - until he had seen his mausoleum on their way back.

It had been a night to remember, it really had been; easily the best in the entirety of his life. Well, afterlife. Both, come to think of it. He’d tried for so long to come home to his little girl, and now he was standing by her side, and with his wife, looking upon the a much larger family than the one he’d left behind in Santa Cecilia so many years before. Imelda and Coco had told him about them, of course, but getting to see them was something else entirely… and watching Miguel playing, so happy and proud and passionate, not seeing them but knowing that they were there, had been the highlight of the night.

The only thing that had briefly stolen his thunder was little Socorro, as none of them except for Coco had met her yet. She was beautiful, and it reminded Héctor of Coco at her age; how fitting that she’d be named after her. He couldn’t wait to see her again the following year.

Leaving had been a bit painful, but the sun was about to rise and it was time to go. They had bid goodbye to each member of the family, and Héctor had taken a moment to take a look at the house - it had started out so small, with only him and an expecting Imelda, and it had grown with the family over time; it made him proud of what she’d achieved, with some sadness for not having been part of it - before they headed back.

He had entirely failed to notice the mausoleum when he’d arrived, eager as he was to be home, but he did see it then, and it caused him to pause. It was quite barren when it came to offers, for a mausoleum… and someone had hung a sign around Ernesto’s bust.

Forget you.

It had caused Héctor to pause, and Imelda had stopped right by him. She’d followed his gaze, and scoffed. “What he deserves,” she’d said, matter-of-factly, and that was it. They had headed back to the Marigold bridge, and Héctor had realized just then that he’d never told her - or anyone else - that he’d found Ernesto in Shantytown. It hadn’t been a conscious lie from his part: in the joy if being reunited with Coco he had simply… forgotten about it.

Forget you.

Except that he couldn’t now and, the moment they were back, he’d excused himself and headed to Shantytown on his own. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t telling anybody just yet; maybe it was because he wasn’t sure he’d still find Ernesto there, after all. He might have gone away. If he wasn’t there, he’d just visit it to pay his respects to people long gone who had lived there, and then head back. To be entirely honest, part of him had been hoping to find no one.

And instead he’d found him almost right away, and without his alebrijes. He was asleep or maybe unconscious under an old arch by the canal, a coat on him and empty bottles spilled on the ground. One was shattered, and the broken glass had creaked under Héctor’s shoes.

Forget you, the sign at the mausoleum read, but it was plain to see from the pristine state of his bones - the ratty clothes and reek of alcohol couldn’t hide that - that he hadn’t been forgotten at all. Who he was, and what he had done, was widely known. He may be hated now, but not forgotten. Oh no. If anything, more people knew of him - of them both - than ever before.

Héctor had stared down at him for a few moments, and a familiar bitterness had begun rising in his throat, or lack thereof, again. It would have been easy to him throw into the canal: a swift kick was all it would take and well, now he had good shoes to make it all the more painful. He’d actually been very, very close to doing just that when Ernesto had stirred and, before Héctor could move or say anything, he’d blindly grasped his tibia.

Taken aback, Héctor could only stare as Ernesto blinked up at him. “You’re not tequila,” he said. Whatever Héctor had been expecting him to say, that was not it.

“No,” he agreed. “I am not tequila.”

Ernesto stared at him for a few moments, still holding onto his tibia, then he let him go to run a hand through dishevelled hair. He threw back his head - hitting the back of his skull against the old brick wall in the process, but he didn’t seem to even notice - and gave an unpleasant, braying sort of laugh. It sounded nothing like the easy laugh he used to have, even when blind drunk. But then again, he hardly looked like the man he’d been, too.

A shell. Take away his reputation, take away the lies, and this is what is left.

“Hah! Hey, hear… yes, hear this out. Why is… why is a condor like a… a…” Ernesto began, only to pause with a frown. He stared ahead for a few moments, clearly confused, then he snorted and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “No, nothing. I don’t remember which one it was. But it was a good one. I thought it up, I think, a couple of months ago? Didn’t get to share it with anybody yet.”

Héctor raised an eyebrow. “You’re drunk,” he said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered a few instances when they'd both been that hammered. When they were young boys they would sometimes drink even though they were not allowed - no, they did it because they were not allowed to - and for the next few hours they could only lean on each other, talking gibberish and cackling like madmen. It often left them feeling nauseous but elated and very likely to do it again, two foolish children who thought they were only one step away from adulthood.

Unaware of his reminiscence, Ernesto snorted. “Oh, you’re ever so observant, amigo. No wonder it took you ninety years and a brat to figure out what killed you,” he added, and grinned at the fury that showed on Héctor’s face the next moment. The distant memory of the boys they had been faded away like a wisp of smoke. “Now that’s more like it. Have you come to finish the job?” Ernesto laughed again, still sprawled on the ground with his back against the wall. He spread out his arms. “Have you found a way to kill me for good, old friend?”

Héctor frowned. “You know that killing the dead is--”

“Impossible, yes,” Ernesto cut him off, sounding almost bored, and reached to grab a bottle that was lying right by him. He shook it and sighed when he found it empty. “I would know. I tried,” he added, matter-of-factly, and chucked it in the canal. He watched it sink with empty eyes. “Not like you’d put me out of my misery even if you could, am I right?” he added, and that got on Héctor’s nerves more than his previous jab did.

“I spent over ninety years on my own, trying to go home,” he snapped, and anger was back, red-hot and very much welcome. Over ninety times he had desperately tried to cross the bridge, over ninety times he had failed. The loneliness, the despair when he’d realized that his Coco was forgetting him, that he may never get to see again. The longing to see her again, just one more time, even if he never got to speak to her, oh please I am so sorry I left, let me see her just one more time. “You have been out here for one year. One . And you’re pathetic,” he added, kicking a bottle.

It fell, splashing what little was left of its contents on Ernesto’s trousers. He seemed not to take notice. “I’m fine,” he slurred. “Trying to forget things. No one else will forget me, so I figured I’d get a head start,” he added, causing Héctor to scoff.

“If it helps at all, I have been actively trying to forget all about you.”

“Have you? Thanks.”

“Oh, my pleasure,” Héctor muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm Ernesto entirely missed, or pretended to miss.

“Who else knows I’m here?”

“No one, as far as I know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“There is only one liar here, and it’s not me,” Héctor retorted, and Ernesto laughed again, like he’d just heard the funniest of jokes.

“Hahahaha! ‘Not you’, sure. You’ll manage, you said.”

“What?” Héctor asked, taken aback. Ernesto closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bricks before replying.

“When you tried to leave. I told you I couldn’t do it on my own, and you said I’d manage.”

Oh, Héctor thought. Right. He did remember saying that. “Because I was sure you could. I was not lying.”

“Pfft. Liar,” Ernesto mumbled, not opening his eyes. “You knew I couldn’t do it on my own. You were setting me up to fail.”

“Really? Why would I-- I only wanted to go home! I could have written more songs for you! All you had to do was to ask!” Héctor snapped, spreading his arms. “Letters were a thing! Didn’t you think of that for a moment? One time I don’t go along with your plans, and your first solution is murder?”

Ernesto said nothing.

“De la Cruz! I’m talking to you!”

No answer, and Héctor paused. He crouched down, and put a hand on his shoulder to shake him. “Ernesto?”

Ernesto’s head rolled over his other shoulder with a low snorting sound, and Héctor was more than slightly taken aback - but also absurdly amused - to realize he’d just fallen asleep. Or passed out. Considering how much he reeked of alcohol, the second option seemed more likely. Hammered as he was, he suspected he may very well not even remember that exchange when he woke up.

I can still kick him into the canal.

It was tempting, but in the end he decided to pass: it would wake him up, and Héctor found he didn’t care to hear a single word from him ever again. He’d hit rock bottom pretty hard, anyway, with no real chance of ever climbing out of the hole he’d dug for himself, and Héctor found that was enough for him. No need for kicking, no need to call the authorities; just leave it at that. He had better things to think about - he had a family to be with, and suddenly he felt like an idiot for being there, wasting his time, while he could be home with them.

I wasted too much time already. That’s enough.

With one last look at the wreck at his feet, Héctor turned and walked away, feeling somewhat lighter as he left Shantytown for the last time. For the next seven years, he scarcely - if ever - thought of Ernesto de la Cruz at all.

***

Seven years later

A week to Día de los Muertos, and I feel half dead already.

Manuel screwed the engine’s oil cap in place and climbed back inside the van with a sigh. It wasn’t unseasonably hot, but he’d been loading merchandise for the past hour. His back hurt, his shirt clung to his skin, he hadn’t slept decently in a week and he was facing a long drive to deliver that load to Santa Cecilia. He would have a couple of free days afterwards, though, and he held on that thought as he started the engine.

I haven’t checked the tires, he thought as he pulled out and began driving. When was the last time he had checked the pressure and wear? Longer than it should be, most likely, but the he’d be happier to eat a toad than to go back, climb down and sort it out. He was late as it was, and didn’t want to get chewed up over a late delivery. He would just drive without pauses and be done with it.

“And then I rest,” he muttered to no one in particular, reaching up to rub his eyes with one hand. They felt scratchy from the lack of sleep, and he wished he’d had another coffee before getting back behind the wheel.

But no can do, no señor. No time. Got to be thankful they don’t make me piss in a bottle to save time on bathroom breaks.

With a grimace, Manuel turned left at an intersection and just focused on driving. Forget the tires, they couldn’t be that bad. He would get that sorted as soon as he reached his destination.

Satisfied with that decision, Manuel turned on the radio - oh, Proud Corazón, he loved that one! - and began his drive towards Santa Cecilia.

***

“It’s Miguel! Miguel is back!”

“Why the surprised act every time? I always come back! Ooof! You got heavier!”

“I did not!”

Miguel laughed off Socorro’s protest and put her down, not without placing a kiss on her cheek that made her scowl in disgust. No sooner that he’d done that Dante was on him, front paws slamming against his chest, tongue lolling against his face. "Ah, good boy! Sit!" Miguel laughed, and Dante improvised what looked like a little dance on his hind legs before he flopped down on his back, all limbs twitching. Miguel's mother had to step over him to give him a hug, and then his father as well. He'd grown taller than him a couple of years back, but it still felt so odd to look down at him.

"Did you have a good journey, mijo?"

"Oh, yes. All was fine," Miguel said, returning their embrace. The guitar on his back made it a tad awkward, and he quickly got it off himself to put it down - just on time to get himself a rib-cracking hug from Abuelita.

“Ah, Miguel! You lost more weight, you did!” she muttered, cupping his cheek. “Have you been eating at all?”

Miguel laughed, and held her back. Of course he’d been eating, and it had only been three weeks since his last visit, but she never skipped that little scene. He was on the lanky side of lean, and that didn’t seem to change, no matter how much he ate. “You say that every time. I’d be a ghost by now!”

“A skeleton, more like. Oh, but I’ll feed you right, muchacho,” she grinned, pinching his cheek. “We heard you on the radio just yesterday! How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Miguel laughed again. “Busy, busy, busy. Got to study, too,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “Where are the others?”

“They went to pick up Rosa and her boyfriend at the train station,” Socorro informed him, making a face that spoke volumes of what she thought of that entire romance business. “He likes to work leather and Abuelita is already thinking of the shoes he could make.”

“Well, one must always think ahead,” Abuelita said, holding the door open. Miguel’s parents walked in, followed by Socorro and then Dante, who ran inside in leaps and bounds. His grandmother, however, paused to glance at him. “Are you coming in?”

“In a minute,” Miguel said, taking a good look at his house and smiling when his gaze fell on Héctor’s guitar and music. He was enjoying being off to study and stretching his legs as a musician, but he still came back every time he could… and of course, nothing on Earth could have kept him away from home on Día de los Muertos. There was still a week left, but he’d taken some time off so he could stay a while longer.

“Well, if you’re just going to stand there… oh, look who’s there! You’re looking for Socorro, aren’t you, niño?”

Miguel turned, and smiled when his eyes fell on the boy standing a few steps from him. He looked up at him from under a mop of thick black hair and smiled, holding up a small whiteboard he always had with him.

HELLO. IS SOCORRO HOME?

“Hello, Ezequiel,” Miguel said, smiling back. “She just went inside. Want us to call her?”

Ezequiel del Rio nodded, and his smile brightened. Predictably enough, Abuelita was all over him the next moment: she’d had a soft spot for that little boy since the very day Socorro had walked back in from school holding onto his hand, saying that he was her ‘bestest friend’. Miguel suspected that his mutism, along with the fact he was a foster care child, had something to do with it the fact Abuelita had looked at him and decided, right there and then, that she had a new grandson. And, to be fair, he did spend more time there than he did with his foster family.

Calling it family is a stretch, Abuelita had muttered in distaste once, well out of Ezequiel's earshot. Miguel suspected she was being too judgemental - Cheque looked happy and cared for - but he didn’t know enough about it to say much of anything.

“Oh, I’ll call her. She needs to go buy some bread at the market, too - you’ll go with her and make sure she doesn’t eat half of it on the way back, won’t you? Don’t even try that,” Abuelita cut him off with a wave of her hand when Ezequiel began scribbling down a reply on his whiteboard. “You can keep trying to take the blame all you want. I know it was her, the gordita. One only needs to look at you to know you don’t eat enough! When Miguel was your age, he was twice as tall,” she added, and Miguel’s smile turned sheepish.

“She exaggerates. She always does,” he told Ezequiel. He wasn’t really half the size he’d been, of course, though to be fair he was short of his nine years. He was about a year older than Socorro, but half a head shorter. However, Abuelita often said that he’d grow tall.

You’re sturdy, I can tell. You’ve got good bones, so when you hit your growth spurt you’ll hit it big. If you eat well, that is! Have another!

“Actually, tell you what,” Abuelita was going on. “I’ll call Socorro and give you both tamales, so that you’re not tempted.”

Ezequiel wrote quickly on the whiteboard before holding it up.

THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Abuelita sighed. “Ah, look at you. Your smile could melt butter,” she muttered, and turned to walk inside; Miguel heard her calling for Socorro to come downstairs. He chuckled, and glanced at Ezequiel with a raised eyebrow.

“A smile that could melt butter,” he repeated, folding his arms. “Not bad at all, Cheque.”

The smile changed into something more similar to a grin, and Ezequiel wiped the whiteboard clean with his sleeve. I PRACTICED, he wrote, and showed it to him with a cocky tilt of his head. Miguel had to laugh. Little Cheque was wary of strangers, but much bolder with those he trusted… although not enough to talk. Even his sister had never heard a word from him.

“And what about that bread? Was it really all Socorro?”

Ezequiel shook his head and wrote again.

WE SHARED. I TOLD HER BUT SHE DIDN’T BELIEVE ME.

“You’re just too good at playing the angelic orphan, chamaco. You could turn to a life of crime and no one would believe a word of your confession,” Miguel said, causing Ezequiel to give a silent snicker just a moment before Socorro burst out of the door, a tamale in each hand and pigtails bouncing with each step.

“Hi, Cheque! Are you going to stay for dinner? Abuelita says you must stay for dinner, so that wasn’t really a question,” she informed him, and stuck the tamale directly into his mouth. That caused Ezequiel to nearly choke, but he didn’t protest. Miguel suspected Socorro could shove an entire beehive under his shirt, and he wouldn’t even get angry. Not that she would ever do something like that, considering that she’d taken him under her wing. One of her classmates had teased her about it once, saying that she must have picked a mute as her best friend because he couldn’t interrupt her, and Socorro had gotten in trouble for kicking him really hard in the shins.

“We’re going to the market,” Socorro announced, putting an arm around Ezequiel's shoulders while he pulled the tamale out of his mouth with one hand and clipped the whiteboard and marker back on his belt with the other. “Bread, bread and more bread. Do you want anything else?”

“No, I think I’m good. We both known Abuelita will start stuffing me the moment I step in,” he said, and Socorro made a face.

“Oh, the suffering,” she said with a sigh, and grasped Ezequiel's hand. “Come on! Let’s go!”

She was marching off the next moment, taking him with her, and when Ezequiel turned to look at him over his shoulder Miguel waved at them.

“See you later,” he called after them, and Ezequiel - who would never get to hit any growth spurt at all - waved back at him for the last time in that world, the half-eaten tamale still in his hand.

***

“Oh, listen to this one! This one if my favorite!”

Socorro skipped to the next song in the player, and it took her all of her willpower not to start dancing down the sidewalk. The only thing that kept her from doing that was that he was sharing the earbuds with Cheque, one each, so she had to keep walking by his side or else he wouldn’t be able to hear the music anymore. He liked listening to music and she was sure he would be good at dancing, because he was quick and nimble, but the only time she’d tried to get him to dance with her he’d frozen on the spot and she’d decided to drop the matter.

It was a warm day, but overcast, and it looked like it might rain. Socorro really hoped they would be able to get the bread and get back home before it happened. Miguel still had to tell her all the news - how was his first album coming along? What was it like being interviewed for the radio and all that? - and she wanted to show Cheque her new luchador mask. He could have her old one, and then they could have a proper match, unless Cheque decided to hold back. She had no proof, but she was almost positive that he went easy on her when they wrestled, and that was annoying because it took away all the fun of beating him.

There was small pull at her sleeve, snatching her from her thoughts, and she glanced aside to see he’d pulled out his whiteboard to write something on it.

IT’S MY FAVORITE, TOO.

Socorro grinned. “I knew you’d like it! Oh, and Miguel said he’s going to play some of the new songs he wrote for us! You’ve got to be there. And you’ve got to try the pan dulce Abuelita makes! Will you come over on Día de los Muertos?” she added. Most people would stay with their families that day, but she knew Cheque's fosterers didn’t put up an ofrenda or anything. And even if they did, there would be no picture of any of his relatives. His mother had left him in care when he was very little and she had been the only family he’d known. She had never come back for him.

Well, it doesn’t matter. Abuelita says we can be his family and I always wanted a little brother. He’s smaller than me, so he counts as a little brother.

As she’d expected, Cheque nodded with a smile. He had dimples on both cheeks, unlike her, and Socorro smiled back without knowing it was the last time she’d see them. “Great! I’ll tell Abuelita and mamá you’re coming,” she said, and then - to her eternal regret - she glanced across the street. “Oh! That’s Gabriela! I need tell her her dad’s new shoes are ready!” she exclaimed, and took the earbud out of her left ear, handing it to Cheque along with the player. “Here, you can listen meanwhile,” she added before speaking the words she’d wish to take back for a long time to come. “Wait for me here, I’ll be right back.”

And with that she was off, across the street and down the opposite sidewalk. She didn’t notice the van driving past her, a bit faster than it should have.

***

Finally. I thought this drive would never end.

Manuel let out a sigh of relief, and reached up to rub his eyes again. It had been a long drive and a hellish one to boot: he’d had to make several diversions and had even gotten lost a couple of times. But finally, there he was. He was almost there, and then he could rest.

It was with that thought that he pressed down on the gas pedal, just a little more, and put on the direction light to turn at the next intersec--

Bang.

Wha--?

The entire van rocked on one side as though hit by something, and Manuel tried to swerve, to keep control, but the van was thrown on one side. For a moment it was balanced on the right, one the verge of tipping over. The tire, he thought, oh Jesus Christ the tire… !

Then the van tipped over, the ground rushed up to meet him, and for a time - until he awoke in hospital three days later, both arms in casts and a surgical wound across his side - Manuel knew nothing more.

***

Later on, when replaying the scene in her mind - again and again and again, until her head hurt and she had no tears left to cry - everything happened in slow motion. In truth, it had all been so fast: when death came for Ezequiel del Rio, it was swift as a racing horse.

There was a bang not unlike that of a small firework going off, then a horrible screeching noise, and that was what made Socorro turn in sudden alarm. She saw the van that had just passed her by swerving violently and then tilting, balancing on the set of wheels on the right for a split second before it tipped over and hit the ground with a dreadful crash, flipping and rolling across the asphalt and towards the sidewalk.

And Cheque was there, earbuds in ears and his back to the street, focused on writing something on his whiteboard.

“CHEQUE!”

The scream left her before she even fully realized what was happening, and she tried to run, but it was much too late. He turned, but that came too late, too. She could only see his face one last time, eyes widening when he spotted the van hurling towards him, and then it was on him and he was gone.

Someone screamed, and maybe it was her or maybe some passerby, but it certainly wasn’t Cheque. Even at the very end, he did not make a sound.

The crash covered all other noise, and Socorro Rivera stopped dead in her tracks, her head suddenly wrapped in silence. She saw people running towards the wreckage, she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder trying to pull her back, but none of it caught her attention. All that she could stare at was the small whiteboard that had been thrown some distance away from the sidewalk, a crack in the middle. A black marker rolled slowly across the asphalt a few feet from it.

Then rain began falling, someone carried her away, and whatever Ezequiel had been writing was lost.

***

[Back to Part 1]

[On to Part 3]

#coco #hector rivera #ernesto de la cruz #miguel rivera #socorro rivera #coco spoilers #down to dust

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talesfromthefade · 7 years

Note

DWC prompt: “people lie all the time.”

Eshalineva ‘Neva’ Lavellan x Solas for @dadrunkwriting

Fen’harel watches from a distance; the dark, looming figure of a wolf stalking her journeys through the Fade. What is that charming little warning the Dalish favor? May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent? Too late, he thinks ruefully, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be here- searching for her. He has no business or right to be, has countless other demands of him, demands he put before her when he turned his back and walked through the Eluvian without her.

“Solas, var lath virsuledin.”

Her cries of pain, her pleas, a heart-wrenching song that continues to echo, ti thrum through his very veins like the ancient, long-forgotten magic of their people. Their people, he thinks. She is, as Cole had once asserted, real. And yet… Yet she would see him stopped. Would save the world she knows, flawed as it is, much as it has disappointed and hurt her. Even at the cost of their people never again regaining what they once had been. She would see him find another way. And, he thinks, she is the only one who might stand a chance of doing so. Leaving her was the only way. Not the easiest, far from that, but the only way to continue on his path. Still, he cannot seem to help himself looking back in spite of himself.

Eshalineva, the wolf thinks staring across the distance. Neva, to most of their companions and the rest of Thedas, rather than butcher the Elvhen. Child of the moon, a child of night, of dreams, the creature thinks as he watches her. A child. So young. Curious. Still so hopeful. That he should have been so weak and foolish as to indulge himself for even a moment in a peace, an affection he knew full well could never last… That she should continue to look- keep a vigil for him- without thought of taking another lover even after so long… It was selfish. A crime what he has done to her. Another terrible mistake for which no penance will ever truly atone for, he thinks, allowing a brief, impossibly soft whine to escape him.

He knows better than to linger here. He shouldn’t really be here at all- their longing for one another, pain, grief, and shattered dreams are too powerful, too great a temptation for spirits and demons to resist for long, but the wolf cannot yet bring himself to turn away. He has trespassed on so many of her dreams, too many when he should have stayed away. But like the moon herself, he cannot help but be drawn to her.

Skyhold, he thinks studying the Fade where it takes form around her. She had come to enjoy exploring new parts of the Fade with him in their time together, but now she returns to something familiar, perhaps comforting to her in the wake of his second departure and everything she has learned. Not just Skyhold, however, but the rotunda he had made his sanctuary, he realizes with surprise.

“Solas,” she whispers softly, right hand outstretched into the distance between them, beckoning him nearer, stopping his heart. Has she seen him? Sensed him lurking there?

But no, a moment later an imposter wearing his face and form steps forward, drawing her into his embrace. She goes willingly, pliant in pretender’s arms. He is the interloper here, but the wolf cannot help the way his hackles raise in possessive fury at the display.

“Venhan.”

It sounds like him, looks like him, but Neva can’t be fooled. She’s far too clever to be lured in by these false memories, to be tempted by spirits or demons that might tempt her with things that never were and cannot be. She can’t be fooled, he thinks fiercely, claws digging into the ground beneath him as she melts under another’s touch. Her clothes slowly fall away to the floor, hands roaming over in ways he’d never allowed himself. Couldn’t while she hadn’t known the truth, couldn’t risk losing himself to. He growls, but the scene dissolves, Fade swirling around her, before becoming something else.

A little girl, a tiny slip of a thing that can’t be more than a handful of years with bright lilac eyes that can only be her mother’s, and a familiar nose he recognizes as his own rushes into her arms with a happy laugh.

“Mamae! I did it, Mamae,” the child crows delighted. “I finally got it. Look!” A little hand cradled in her larger one twitches, then sparks with magic as a tiny flame ignites and flickers gently in her palm before she extinguishes it to look at her mother expectantly.

“Oh Da’len,” Neva beams, scooping her up in her arms for a hug. “That was wonderful! Wait until we show your Papa.”

Something in the wolf’s heart clenches, howls in protest, as he continues to watch the pair of them as they go through the motions of various other scenes of domesticity together- playing, hunting, reading… This is what she dreams of? This is impossible. Wrong. All wrong. This is… too much. He can never have- can never give her any of these things. No matter how much he may wish to.

“I know you are there,” she says softly, startling him once more as lilac eyes suddenly fix themselves on the very spot he’d thought himself hidden, her hand reaching down to card through the child’s hair, and draw them to her hip with a sad smile. “You don’t have to hide from me,” she adds patiently, still watching the corner just beyond the Fade’s construction of the rotunda where he lurks. “You never did,” she promises, shaking her head softly at him, making the wolf wonder how long she’s been aware of him trespassing on her dreams.

He lets himself slip back into the form she knows best, now it’s clear there is no more point in concealing himself from her, crossing the space between them. The changeling the Fade has constructed clings to her side but a moment longer before she rushes forward to hug him instead. It’s a mistake. He knows as much, but cannot help himself, catching her he lets the little girl hug him, call him Papa, babble a moment about her accomplishments and pepper him with questions, before regretfully banishing her back to another corner of the Fade with a small sweep of his hand, dragging heavy eyes up to meet her tearful ones.

“She wasn’t real.”

“She could be,” Neva replies meaningfully. “We were. Or was that another lie?”

“No,” he replies immediately, shaking his head. “We were. But you torture yourself dreaming and imagining such things.”

“And you don’t? Watching my dreams,” she challenges with an arch of an eyebrow. Solas frowns, mouth thinning in frustration. He didn’t come here to argue with her. He… He doesn’t know why he came here. Why he torments himself like this, as she does with futures that will never exist outside of the Fade.

“It’s a lie,” he replies finally, biting his tongue before he can use any terms of endearment that have long since become habit, echoing loudly in the back of his mind. “A beautiful one, but a lie all the same.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that would bother you,” she accuses, but the bite and bitterness is gone from her voice nearly as quickly as it came on. She shakes her head as if to banish it, before continuing. “Everyone lies. People lie all the time. To themselves as much as anyone,” she says, leveling him with a significant look. “I enjoy them, its true, but I’m not going to lose myself to them. Permit me my pretty lies and I will let you keep yours.”

“You know the truth,” he protests quite in spite of and before he can stop himself, and she nods.

“I do. So, I know you do not truly wish to walk this path alone, or you wouldn’t keep looking back. Wolves are pack animals,” she continues, voice and eyes both softening a little as she looks at him, a sad frown twisting her mouth. She moves towards him, slowly like one might approach a wild animal, fearful of provoking it either into attacking or fleeing, before wrapping her arms around his waist, letting her head fall to his shoulder. “You should not be alone. You were not made for it, Vhenan,” she whispers softly, the imagined heat of her breath tickling lightly at his ear.

She’s likely right, he thinks, eyes sliding shut to savor her warmth, her touch, for as long as he can. But any other’s company would be little more than a hollow substitute for her own. She asked him once, to accompany him, but how could he ask or even allow such a thing? How could he survive seeing her come to resent, even hate him for what he must do to this world in order to restore their people? He is the demon, the nightmare, her clan tell stories of at night to scare each other. She is… Important. So rare and beautiful- body, soul and mind. Bewitching in a way he never expected to find anything beyond the wonders of the Fade. What can he give her in return, but pain and grief? To be with her would be to taint and corrupt the pure and wondrous thing that she is- the one good thing to come of this world gone horribly wrong.

“Stop it,” she scolds, interrupting his maudlin thoughts with a gentle flick of his nose, startling him so with the gesture, and the sheer absurdity of it that he almost laughs. That this young, impish, beautiful creature would dare to scold or patronize the mighty Dread Wolf. He does not feel so mighty now, however. He never has with her somehow. In most other’s company, he eventually found himself weary, forever reminded of his mistakes, burdened by the knowledge of the work he must do to amend them, but in hers- in hers he could pretend, forget, even for just a little while that he is anything more than a man in love. He is young again. Even hopeful. He is not alone. He is loved.

He told himself, leaving her heartbroken and crying in that glen that it was better this way. Though it would have been best never to have begun anything between them, to have encouraged her in any way. She loved an idea, without knowing the whole picture.

Except, of course, that’s no longer true.

She knows everything now. All of him. All his mistakes. All his plans.

“Ar lath, Solas.” The words are a knife, expertly aimed at his heart, plunged in, and then twisted, as the wolf within him whimpers. “In another world, you said,” she reminds him gently, calling back memories long ago but never truly faded, of a pain that has never diminished, and the most difficult thing he has ever done. Leaving her. “Could there ever be room for me in the one you hope to re-build?”

You would not want me in such a world, Vhenan. Not after what I must do to create it, the wolf thinks, bright eyes staring unblinkingly back into hers.

“I will want you always, she replies shaking her head. “In every life. In every world. In every form,” she promises solemnly, as his eyes widen in surprise. She heard him. Lilac eyes twinkle a little in amusement as she giggles softly at him. He’d almost forgotten how beautiful the sound of her laughter and happiness could be. Almost convinced himself he doesn’t deserve to remember it after all the pain he’s caused her. “This is the Fade,” she reminds him patiently, in much the same tone as he once used with her, exploring new places and forgotten dreams. “I have always been able to hear you,” the young elf whispers softly with a small rueful smile. “I have always known when you came to my dreams. Your pain, your loneliness- they’re very loud,” she offers. “I’ve never wished you any hurt- no, not even then-“ she adds, interrupting herself when he offers the best disbelieving look a wolf can manage. “But knowing that you did… it gave me hope,” she admits softly.

“You are waiting for the day when I will hate you. Take the name they gave you in vain and curse you, but I won’t. I see you, Solas. I know what you are. I know what you have planned. I do not agree that there cannot be some other means of achieving it without sacrificing the good of this world, but I love you. I want to be with you. Celebrate your triumphs and comfort you through losses. You want it too.” It isn’t a question, but it doesn’t need to be. She seems to know the truth of it as well as he does. Better, perhaps.

She is fading now. The Fade around her becoming steadily less distinct and solid as she begins to drift from him, waking. He stays, watching her become increasingly less corporeal until there is only her voice, a faint song on an imagined breeze that caresses his cheek.

“Come and take me, Dread Wolf. I am yours.”

#dadrunkwriting #solavellan #solas #eshalineva lavellan #neva lavellan #tales:neva #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #vir-tanadahl

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bullymagnetweek-blog · 8 years

Text

Hitball: The Musical - Bullymagnet Week Day 5

AN: so this is like super late and hardly even bullymagnet but *shrug* i listened to high school musical on repeat for six hours for this so here we go. i apologise in advance for the cheesy lyrics. also again the formatting bc what. - KindleSpark

SUMMARY: Retelling of the hitball arc, but everyone’s singing and it’s even more dramatic than it already was. Suzy has a blackmailing song. Johnny and Max have a theme. Jeff’s monologue is now a villain number. Enjoy. (I’m sorry).

Max is expecting a huge trumpet fanfare to start what is apparently a high stakes middle-school dodgeball game, but instead all Coach Oop does is blow a small ‘toot’ on his whistle

It still has everyone sprinting as fast as they can to get to the middle of the court, though. Max lingers back as Johnny and Isabel lunge for the balls, pulling off stunts no middle-schooler (or anyone for that matter) should be able to do. Someone’s already in the bleachers in the first two seconds.

Everyone’s taking this pretty damn seriously, Max realises. A ball comes spinning his way and he quickly side steps it. Well, at least dodging is his forte.

Thump. Thump Thump.

Speaking about forte.

Squeak thump.

Max should’ve seen this coming.

Thump. Thump thump.

Sneakers hit the floor, and balls whiz past rhythmically. There’s a beat humming through the gym.

“Burnhounds.” Menacing whispers come from the other team.

“Shockodiles.” The response is immediate, perfectly in rhythm.

Max suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Mayview is dramatic enough to have a song for a middle-school dodgeball game. He feels the beat instinctively, feet slipping side to side in sync. Sure, songs happened all the time, and he wasn’t against them or anything, but they usually only started up when it came to something significant. He vaguely wonders if it’s just a well-known hitball theme… but no, hitball was only introduced today. He shrugs. It’s probably just a Mayview thing. The drama never ends.

“Burnhounds!”

“Shockodiles!”

The chanting continues. Swung quavers and a shuffle-likebeat, Max notes. He shouts along as the music reaches its peak.

Thump. Thump thump.

“HITBALL!” The gym cries in unison. Max spoke too soon. Those were definitely trumpets.

He leaps to the side, dodging and twisting past the balls. Songs always push his movements along, it’s so much easier to step and move when there’s a beat driving you forward. The melody surges inside him, and he’s buzzing with expectation.

Isabel starts up, and Max grins. Most people have a specific style or instrument their songs most occur in, and she’s perfect for this. Of course, she wouldn’t be singing if she wasn’t, but he’s still impressed.

“Hey Burnhounds, we’re gonna tear you asunder,

‘coz us Shockodiles are lightning and thunder.

Hey Burnhounds, get ready to stop drop and roll,

‘coz the flames you’re holding’ll be reduced to coal.”

Max watches as she dances her way across the court, singing all the way. At the end of her verse, she pelts the Golden Switch she’s holding directly towards Lisa, hitting her just as she’s distracted by Ed.

“Haha, yesss! We’re stacked.”

Thump thump.

The chorus starts just as aggressively as the verse, and Max finds himself singing with the rest of the team as they taunt the other side, balls bouncing and stomps shaking the floor as the music roars at a peak.

“Get ready, get ready for hitball,

Burnhounds vs. Shockodiles!”

Max feels the title drop resonate through him. Ah man, he can’t deny he’s having fun. Max hides a grin as Johnny’s verse springs up from the other side, responding to Isabel’s threats in perfect rhyme.

“Hey Shockodiles, hope you’re ready for this game,

‘coz you’ll need more than water to put out this flame.

Hey Shockodiles, you’re up for a treat,

‘coz us Burnhounds ain’t afraid to turn up the heat!”

He whips two balls out in sync, and Max grimaces as he watches both of them hit their mark. The chorus comes back in, and now both teams begin to sing the chorus, lines whipping back and forth as fast as the balls are. Somewhere in between the chorus and the next verse, Max hears the raspy voice of… was that kid levitating?

“Dag, sons! These burnhounds are wiggity wiggity worse than homework!”

You know what, he’s just gonna ignore that one. The music pauses just as the bridge comes in, and Max finds himself itching to sing. Oh man, he’s one of the main vocalists? The songs hadn’t stopped coming since he moved here, and he much preferred background vocals.

“Hey Matrix, try contributing! The game’s not called dodgeball!” Isabel shouts at him.

Oh good, it’s a private conversation. He sighs in relief. At least these parts usually play underneath the main song, with the rest of the singers are often oblivious.

“Stop deflecting!” Isabel roars.

A ball collides perfectly into the one he’s holding, ricocheting to the side.

Max deadpans. “But clearly that is an important part of the spor-”

Isabel shoves the ball into his face. The music quietens, and the beat disappears, something more lyrical starting up.

“Max, are we clear on what I said on the train?

I hope I didn’t mislead you, I mean, I’m trying to explain…”

Max baulks. Nope. He’s not talking about this now. Thankfully, the music complies and his lyrics quickly interrupt hers.

“Most ghosts really can’t-“

“Looks like someone needs me over there.” Max shouts awkwardly, edging his way out of the song. “I’m just gonna go-“

“HOW DID YOU KNOW??”

The music screeches to a halt as Max comes face to face with a terrifyingly delighted Suzy.

———

Oh my god, she has a blackmailing song.

Collin’s slumped shoulders tell him this isn’t just a one-off melody, it’s an actual honest-to-god theme. Max cannot believe his own eyes. Or ears. Jagged string lines bounce eerily off each other, dissonant and harsh. Suzy sings along delightedly, and Max has a sense of incoming doom as she rattles off high-pitched lines and exposition. He tries not to let the panicky music get to him.

“You know what that means, Max? Don’t hold your breath.” Suzy sings, music stopping just before it reaches the final note. Max is sweating “It means jumping through a school bus is now punishable…”

Silence. Max is pretty sure he knows what’s coming.

“BY DEATH.” He was right.

“Suspension.” Collin interrupts. Max’s brain has zoned out, and he’s imagining all the horrible ways his dad’s gonna sacrifice him in if Max gets suspended.

“No, no! My Dad’ll kill me…!”

Suzy lets out a cackle. “I’m always right in the end, see?”

The song, unfortunately, doesn’t end there.

“Now now, Max, it’s okay, don’t be so hyperbolic.

It’s not like anyone knows you did it, I’m not that vitriolic.

No one has a clue, it’s just been rumours, don’t you see?

It’s not like anyone knows you did it… Well. Nobody…”

Oh. Max hates everything. “but y-“

“But me!” Suzy’s smile holds six different layers of evil, and Max is ready to embrace death.

———

“I hate people like you!

And you, and you!!”

Max recoils as Nega-Jeff actually begins to sing. There’s something different about his voice too, an underlying tone that doesn’t sound right. The accompanying music is all wrong and twisted, not like Jeff at all. Something’s very wrong.

“Self-centered, without a scrap of ambition,

Warriors of whim, without proper cognition.

You’ve still yet to reach your brains’ higher functions!

Honestly. What a waste of good violence.”

Max watches as Johnny flinches back, and he can tell that particular line was in one of Johnny’s songs as well. He scowls. Low blow.

“Kindness without a code, cruelty that isn’t calculating,

can’t you see it serves no purpose, your stupidity is infuriating!

The true power of violence isn’t just to entertain,

I hope you’re ready to learn a lifelong lesson in pain!”

Isabel’s up to something in the background, and Max really hopes she can come up with something while this Jeff imposter is singing. He lights up as Isabel flings balls their way, hope rising within him, well. Until Johnny catches one and sends her to the bleachers. Ughhh.

———

Max smirks. Johnny was pretty selfless when it counted. I mean sure, dismissing his friends did leave the two of them stuck with Jeff, but Max wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, don’t let Nega-Jeff get too deep under your skin, okay?” Max says. “Everything else aside, caring about your jerk friends isn’t a flaw. It’s your sole redeeming quality.”

Johnny chuckles, smiling. “Heh.”

Something swells inside Max, and it takes him a second to realise it’s the beginning of… a theme. Just an instrumental, apparently, but it still surprises him. He doesn’t even have a proper theme with the activity club yet, and yet the moment he’s alone with Johnny… Weird. Stagnant ostinatos, melody on the bass, and… was that the sound of clashing metal as the beat? Unconventional, but it worked. It fits perfectly, and Max already loves it. He can feel himself buzzing with anticipation for the showdown, comforted with the thought Johnny was by his side. He makes a face. Oh man, that was cheesy. Songs really brought every embarrassing thought to the forefront.

“Ready to win this, Johnny?” Max barks, spectral energy igniting on instinct.

Johnny grins, all teeth and resolve. “Let’s show Jeff what-“

“That’s not Jeff.”

The music halts abruptly as Cody shoves the Golden Switch into Johnny’s hands, face dark and angry. Thunder crackles between them, and Max instinctively steps back. Something about Cody’s posture screams danger.

“Punish him.”

Thump. Thump thump.

Max’s eyes widen in realisation. A reprise. This was it then.

Squeak thump.

Johnny sends him a look, face determined. Final showdown. The people on the bleachers begin to whisper softly.

Thump. Thump thump.

“Burnhounds!”

“Shockodiles!”

Johnny jumps into the verse, lines reprised as Johnny lets out his anger, determined to bring Jeff down. Meanwhile, Max’s brain is racing, trying to piece together a plan as fast as he can. The likelihood of actually hitting Jeff is low, but there’s no way they could catch one of his throws, unless… No, that’s too dangerous. He grits his teeth. Well, that’ll have to be the back-up plan if this doesn’t work. He vaguely registers Jeff singing, but ignores him, grabbing Johnny quickly and dragging him back.

“Grrr, all I need is a single ball,

Just one, and I can finish this farce,

What the- there’s none at all?

Why, Guerra, ever a thorn in my-“

“HEY, JEFF!!” Max interrupts, breaking up his verse. “HEADS UP!!!”

He sprints up, bringing back his arm and aiming…

“PSYCH!!”

… for the ball golem. Max honestly has no idea why she’s still on the court.

It hits her perfectly, and the rest of the class cheer, music starting up again and launching into the chorus. The beat, with a lack of people on court, is picked up by the thumping of shoes and fists on the bleachers.

“Burnhounds vs. Shockodiles: Final showdown!”

“Not.” Jeff rises slowly, and Max tenses. He turns, and Max grimaces as he shows off the Golden Switch. Plan B, then. The background vocals are shocked into silence, and the music thumps silently as Jeff launches into his villain song again, this time with leitmotifs from Burnhounds vs. Shockodiles. Yikes, he really liked the sound of his own voice.

Max remains alert as Jeff walks along the court. The likelihood of him throwing the ball before his verse ends is low, but he watches anyway. Somewhere in the middle of it, Max perks up with incredulity, recognising the counterpoint. That was his and Johnny’s theme! Jeff hasn’t seemed to notice it, thankfully, and Max glares him down. It’s not over yet.

“Ha, you think I’d miss?

LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE THIS!”

Max grits his teeth.

“Johnny!!” He cries. Their theme breaks free from the harmony, playing high above everything, and overwhelming Jeff’s at the final note. He grins. “Look up!”

The music pauses.

Krak.

Foom.

Thwack.

SNAP!

The ball ricochets off his arm, arcing high over the court. He doesn’t need to look back to know Johnny caught it.

Max has a split-second to acknowledge darkly that the throw was in rhythm, before pain bursts on Max’s left arm, and he tears up, hissing as he tries not to cry. This doesn’t work.

“RRRRGGGHHHHH!!” He groans, curling up on the ground. Flippity flippin’ flip! His arm is on fire. He didn’t think it’d be this bad if Dmitri had somehow survived it, but it was.

“WELL WHATRYA WAITIN’ FOR?!” Johnny shouts. “LET’S GET ‘IM!!”

“YEEEEAAAAAAAHHHH!” comes the cry, and the music starts again, playing a victory instrumental to accompany the cheers.

Thump. Thump Thump.

Well, almost an instrumental. Lisa steps up unnoticed behind Jeff, pinning him with a vice-like grip.

“Hey Shockodile, here’s some advice:

In this school, you should really learn to think twice.

Hey Shockodile, don’t make this a trend,

There are scary people here you don’t want to offend.”

#kindlespark #prompt: the musical #submission

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adventuresinfarming · 3 years

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A Story A Day Series ~ Chapter 1

QUICK NOTE: I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a long time. Something of a “day by day” take on a new Stardew Valley journey. I’ll be playing at the character Avian on Plums Farm (Four Corners style farm). Don’t have a lot of plans for how the story will unfold (a few little headcanons I want to add in though) so we’ll see how this goes! ----------------------------------------- A Story a Day Series ~ Spring 1, Year 1 Word Count: 3,358 Summary: Avian is starting her new journey on Plums Farm after opening the letter from her late Grandfather. She explores the town and introduces herself to some of the townsfolk. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (Monday) Spring 1, Year 1 Waking up Spring 1, Avian was excited to get to work building her new life. She never thought she’d ever be in this position and the old farm would actually be handed down to her. In fact, her Grandfather didn’t talk to the family about it very much until the end. He was quite adamant about you, specifically, to visit it during the last few years of his life though...but you had gotten this great new job at the prestigious JojaMart Headquarters and that had taken the forefront. You never got around to visiting him there. Aside from that, the family never really knew much about his “secret” life in the valley. They knew he had purchased the property long ago, before meeting Grandmother and moved with her to Zuzu City to raise her father and his siblings but hadn’t built his cottage and lived on it until after she had passed on. Your father had visited him there a handful of times but the rest of the family was always too busy.

She was also anxious but nervous to meet the rest of her neighbors, too. What would they think of her? How close to your Grandfather were they? Mayor Lewis had said the other villagers were just as anxious to meet her though, that made her feel a little more at ease.

Since yesterday was such an exhausting day, she didn’t even take the time to check out the interior of the farmhouse her Grandfather had lived in. She got out of bed, opened the blinds to let in more light and really took a look around.

It was a smaller room than she had expected with very few amenities: the full-size bed she slept on, a small table and chair set, a couple of houseplants (that Lewis or Robin had probably brought in to help clear the stale air), a beautiful fireplace that had definitely been repaired and a small TV set – the real old kind that had dials to change the channel/volume and no remote. Not to mention the addition of a smaller room off the back corner just big enough to hold a shower stall, toilet and sink – which she was extremely grateful for. Definitely better than an outhouse and bathing in the lake! She thought. Curious as to what channels were even available way out in the country, she turned one of the dials. “Welcome to KOZU 5…your number one source for weather, news and entertainment. And now, the weather forecast for tomorrow…It’s going to be clear and sunny all day.” Huh, well that was good to know. Hopefully the weatherman was accurate out here as they typically got the weather wrong in Zuzu City. Turning the dial again… “Hoo.. I see a glimmer within my scrying orb… A shard of knowledge from the future! The spirits are in good humor today. I think you’ll have a little extra luck.” Spirits? Ok…not sure how much she believed in that stuff, but she was glad they were happy today she surmised. She turned the dial once again… “Welcome to “Livin’ Off the Land”. We’re back again with another tip for y’all. Now listen up - This one’s for all you greenhorns out there: chop wood and search for wild forage to earn some cash while waiting on your first harvest!” That was definitely the kind of information she was looking for, even being called a “Greenhorn”. Hopefully this show would be on more often, she needed all the tips she could get! She’d have to find a pen and notebook to keep by the TV so she could jot down this info for later. She tried turning the dial again but she only got the black and white static, oh well, at least she got some useful channels. She was about to finally head outside when she saw a little wrapped present sitting besides the flowers on the table. Inspecting it, she found 15 Parsnip seeds, a small rucksack and a little note: “Here’s a little something to get you started.” -Mayor Lewis That was really sweet of him. Now all she needed to find were some tools to help her clear at least a portion of the mess she saw last night – she hoped she didn’t have to find somewhere to buy them as she didn’t have a lot of money left over from the move.

She stepped out of the house and looked around the never-ending expanse that was her new home – Plums Farm. Mayor Lewis had asked if she wanted to change it but she wanted to keep her Grandfather’s legacy and she knew he loved plums – she’d definitely have to plant some one day. She tried to imagine what it had looked like when Grandfather had lived there. Was he prosperous with a whole field of crops and livestock? Looking out to what had become of the farm, she felt regret at never visiting when she could have. She sighed, gazing at all the weeds, long grass, sticks, stones and full grown trees that now littered the property. She was determined to make it up to him by restoring it to its former glory…and it definitely wouldn’t be easy – she’d have her work cut out for her for sure. But aside from that, the fresh breeze blowing faintly by her and the songs of the birds...it had been a very long time since she’d heard those sounds that weren’t drowned out by traffic and city life. She decided to take a quick walk around the house, just because she was curious how it looked. She started around the left side, passing the shipping bin Mayor Lewis had mentioned and continued around towards the back.

Robin really did a great job restoring the siding as best she could along with the bits of roof and eaves – at least covering the spots that were previously exposed to the elements. Fresh lumber nailed securely to the older pieces of wood that were clearly worn – but not yet in need of replacing, stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t the prettiest but she really didn’t have any room to complain. What did she expect from a cottage that had sat there for at least 10 years then fixed for free from the local carpenter? Still, she was grateful for the work Robin and Mayor Lewis had put in making the place a bit more habitable. As she came around from the back, she saw the dilapidated outhouse and was instantly grateful again for Robin installing the bathroom. Then she saw a wooden chest tucked beside the right side of the house that still looked pretty intact. Opening the lid, it was all of the tools she was hoping to find! An axe, a hoe, watering can, pickaxe, a scythe and an old binder with a few pages sat at the bottom. She grabbed the binder to flip through it and found a handful of blueprints on how to craft items that would definitely be useful as she built up the farm.

She placed the binder on the patio to bring inside (to review later and maybe the townspeople had other blueprints she could have to make this new life easier). Then she grabbed the well-used tools and set to work clearing a small patch of land to till and plant the little seedlings. Hours had passed by before she was satisfied with the work she’d done and was absolutely exhausted. She put the tools she’d used and materials she’d gathered back into the wooden chest by the house before going in to clean herself up as much as she could as she knew she looked a mess. First impressions were a big deal no matter where you lived and she wanted to make a good impression with her new neighbors and she was glad she packed some regular clothes.

Walking back towards the way Robin had lead her the other day, she passed by the bus stop and stopped for a moment to watch a startled squirrel run up a tree with an acorn in its mouth. It was so refreshing to see wildlife again. She noticed a few wildflowers and remembered what the guy on the TV had said – pick up wild forage for cash! She had found a good handful of Daffodils and a couple Dandelions – which she had also remembered from a survival guide she read before that they were good for quick energy – and stuffed them in her rucksack before continuing on her way towards the town plaza – per the directional sign.

As the dirt path turned into cobblestones, she felt her nerves begin to bubble up a little…Was she ready to introducer herself to everyone? Were they even going to like her? What would they think of her – an imposter? A city slicker pretending to be a farmer? She tried to swallow the nerves as she got closer to some buildings. The town did look nice though, not as run down as she had expected. The first one was large building but split into two businesses – a Clinic on the left and the General Grocer on the right called Pierre’s. Between the two was a large wooden Bulletin Board that had a calendar of seasonal birthdays and events – did people give birthday gifts in this town? Along with a “Help Wanted” board but nothing was needed today – although there was a clever little advertisement that said Pierre’s had the high quality seeds so she decided to go in.

She opened the door and a bell rang out, signaling her entrance. It was a spacious room; all sorts of different products lined the walls on shelves and in bins on the sales floor. Two women were already in there: a purple-haired girl who looked a few years younger than her, was stocking shelves near the counter who gave her a sidelong glance before going back to her work. A middle-aged woman with a lot of hair thrown into a braid that barely contained all of it hung around her shoulder, but she waved to her with a smile before going back to browsing the shelves. “Welcome to Pierre’s!” A middle aged man with sandy brown hair and glasses called to her from behind the counter at the back, getting her attention. “Ah, you must be the new farmer – Avian, right? I’m Pierre, owner of this fine establishment. You won’t find better products anywhere else, and I’ll even buy produce from you at a good price! Its been a while since we’ve had a local agriculture to help bring new life to the economy.” he finished before turning his attention back to the purple-haired girl. He seemed friendly enough. She smiled nervously and muttered a ‘thanks’. She grabbed a shopping basket from the stand that sat next to the entrance and started browsing the shelves for groceries and things that may be of use – although she didn’t have a lot and wanted to be sure to get more seeds to plant. Avian rounded the corner of one of the aisles and was met with the older woman.

“Ah, Mayor Lewis told me you just arrived. Welcome to Pelican Town, I’m Marnie!” Her smile was warm and her voice was very neighborly. “If you’re looking to have livestock on your farm, let me know. I sell both livestock and animal care products at my ranch just south of your farm – swing by anytime!” “Hi Marnie, I’m Avian – once I get more settled in – and have a place to put them, I’ll definitely do that!” They both continued on their shopping. She had kind eyes, Avian thought to herself. She definitely looks like someone who’d care for animals. She’d love to have some one day so she’d definitely stop by her place to learn how to get started.

Avian continued to browse the store, picking a handful of useful items to have at home before she came up to the counter and tried to introduce herself to the purple-haired girl. Her body language was not friendly and turned to her with attitude in her voice. “Oh, that’s right… I heard someone new was moving onto that old farm. It’s kind of a shame, really. I always enjoyed exploring those overgrown fields by myself.” She said, dismissing Avian’s greeting and rolling her eyes.

“Abigail! Be nice to our new customer.” Pierre had scolded and shook his finger at her. Turning to you, he apologized. “Please forgive her, she’s still in the rebellious teenage phase even though she’s an adult.” He frowned at Abigail again. “Ugh, whatever. I’ve finished putting these on the shelves, DAD.” she stated with an attitude before storming off towards the back door at the opposite side of the counter and leaving the empty boxes there on the floor.

“Again, I apologize for my daughter’s rude behavior.” he shook his head in annoyance as he watched her go through the door but all traces of that had disappeared when he returned his gaze to Avian with a smile you’d see from a used car salesman. “Anyway as a new farmer, I’m sure you’re interested in browsing our splendid Spring seed collection?” he asked as he was already bringing out a tray of quite a few different seedling packets.

He went through each one, describing what it was and how long they took to grow. She really didn’t have much money on her but as they say: ‘Takes money to make money’. Avian picked out a few Potato and Cauliflower packets along with a couple Bean starter seedlings and also placed the other items she picked out on the corner to be rung up. Unfortunately, this purchase had nearly drained her of all her money. As she headed back out the door, Pierre called after her. “Thank you for shopping at Pierre’s where the prices are always better! Come back again!”

Whew, well that wasn’t too bad. Everyone seemed nice so far, aside from Abigail but hopefully she would warm up to her, it’d be nice to have a friend around her age. Avian stood outside of Pierre’s contemplating her next move – either go plant these new seedlings or wander around a bit more to meet more people. As she stood there debating, the decision was made for her. A spiky blonde-haired guy who also looked about her age, wearing a jean jacket with various band patches on it and carried a skateboard, walking by a few houses and a dog pen not too far away from her. Swallowing her nerves she went to introduce herself.

“H-hi, I’m Avian. The new farmer,” she started to say and got his attention.

“Oh hey! Yeah I heard about you. I’m Sam. Good to meet you! Love to stay and chat but I’m actually late to work though,” he said and hurried on his way. “Catch ya later!”

She nodded and wondered where he worked where he started after Noon. She stood there for a moment watching him walk away before realizing there was another guy watching her, tossing a gridball up into the air next to a house. He had on a letterman jacket, and definitely looked like the typical jock. Once he saw that she noticed him, he waved her over.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, huh? I think we’re going to get along great. I’m Alex.” He had this dazzling smile as he tucked the ball under his arm and offered his hand in a shake. “Yeah, I’m Avian! Its nice to meet you.” she shook his hand as she tried not to stumble over her words, why was she nervous all of a sudden? She was never popular in school and none of the popular kids ever noticed her, so maybe that was it. They both stood there in silence as he tossed the gridball up in the air again before catching it easily. She figured he would have said something else since he called her over.

“You like gridball, huh?” she asked, gesturing to the ball. “Oh yeah, I brought my High School team to Champions a couple years ago.” He boasted, starting to toss the ball in the air again. “Just waiting to be called up to the big leagues, now!” “That’s cool. I used to like watching the national games sometimes.”

“Maybe we could play catch sometime then.” and gave her that dazzling smile again Her nerves caught up to her as she muttered, ”Yeah, maybe! I-uh, I gotta go plant crops now. See you later,” and held up her bags of seeds. “Heh, sure. See you around!” he smiled again as she walked around the house and went north, spying a stone bridge overlooking the river. Seemed like a good spot to sit and think for a moment so she went to go stand on it to get her brain back together. It wasn’t often she was nervous around guys but she had also never seen a smile that took her breath away like that. Thinking on it, the spikey-haired guy wasn’t too bad looking either. Abigail also had a beauty to her…what kind of town did she move to?? Then she felt stupid for not trying to continue on the conversation with Alex – as Sam and Abigail were busy. She wasn’t there very long, staring into the waters as fish swam by and leaves moseyed on with the help of the lazy current, when another older woman approached the bridge.

“Hey kid, you must be the new one. The name’s Pam.” She had a gruff voice but still seemed pretty nice and held out her hand to shake, although her grip was a bit rough. “Don’t be a jerk and we’ll get along just fine.” She smiled and continued on her way towards a building on the other side of the stream. It was a rather large building, definitely new-er than a lot of the buildings she had seen so far, so she went to go look at it.

As she got closer, it dawned on her how familiar the color scheme was and realized – HOLY SHIT, this was a JojaMart! H-how...WHY was a JojaMart here? Mayor Lewis didn’t mention anything about it. In fact, did he even know leaving that horrible place is part of the reasons she’s here? She walked away from the building, recalling the horrible memories and decided to head back home. It was getting later in the day and definitely didn’t want to get stuck trying to find her way back in the dark – plus she did want to get these seeds planted before she went to bed, she was already exhausted from her earlier chores and introducing herself.

As she headed back towards the dirt path leading towards her farm, she noticed another man walking around the little fenced in area and figured meeting one more person wouldn’t hurt. “H-hi, I’m Avian,” she started when the man turned around. He looked a few years older than her wearing a forest green lab coat with glasses and a mustache. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Harvey, the local doctor.” She shook his hand briefly as he went on to say that he does general check-ups for all Pelican Town residents and that she should stop by sometime if she ever feels ill or sick. “It’s rewarding work, being able to give back to the community like this. I hope you’ll find your own work equally rewarding in time but please also don’t overwork yourself,” he cautioned in a light tone. “Don’t want you passing out or anything!”

“I’ll definitely be sure to be careful,” she agreed. It is nice to have a doctor in town. “It was good to meet you. I’m going to plant these before it gets too dark,” she said as she held up the bag from Pierre’s.

They bid each other goodbye and she headed back to the farm. Once she got there, she tilled and planted the seedlings and thought about her day before getting right to bed. The moon was still rising but she fell asleep immediately.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley fic #sdv fic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #A Story A Day - my own fic

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magicofword · 7 years

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The Inside Story Of SoundCloud's Collapse

Lixia Guo / BuzzFeed News If you want an example of when SoundCloud’s mission to be a free-for-all music sharing venue collided with its desire to go mainstream, the time it accidentally banned Justin Bieber is a pretty good place to start. In late April 2014, a user named "Sir Bizzle" posted a song titled “We Were Born for This” on SoundCloud. The sparse acoustic track sounded so much like Justin Bieber that listeners assumed that it was the Canadian pop star. It quickly racked up a few thousand plays, and chatter on social media, before SoundCloud flagged the profile, assuming Sir Bizzle was an imposter with an ill-gotten Biebs jam, and took the song down. Using SoundCloud’s online complaint form, Sir Bizzle asked that the track be reinstated. The company declined his appeal, noting that the account’s associated address, “123 everywhere street,” was clearly bogus. Sir Bizzle responded with a selfie — of Justin Bieber holding a notepad with a greeting to SoundCloud’s employees. “OMG OMG OMG I JUST SAVED BIEBER!” wrote one employee on an internal email thread after verifying that it was the artist and restoring the song. The company’s community and artist relations teams jumped into overdrive to placate the world’s biggest popstar. Three days later, Bieber’s label, Island Def Jam Music Group, rehashed the issue, issuing a takedown notice for the tune before retracting the statement after learning that the artist himself had posted the tune. Former SoundCloud employees familiar with the Sir Bizzle incident point to it as an encapsulation of the company’s promise, missed opportunities, and inability to coherently work with an entrenched music industry. Three years after Bieber’s selfie, SoundCloud has squandered its position as a maverick, but beloved audio platform and failed to build a meaningful business. In a music era dominated by Spotify, SoundCloud has been, at the best of times, a startup in stagnation, and, at the worst of times, an organization in disarray. Once harboring aspirations to be the YouTube of sound, the Berlin-based company has struggled to remain viable, hamstrung by management missteps, an ineffective business strategy, and a stubborn music industry that would rather it had never existed. In early July, SoundCloud laid off 173 people — some 40% of its workforce — shuttering satellite offices in San Francisco and London in an effort to stave off bankruptcy. According to more than a dozen current and former employees who spoke to BuzzFeed News, SoundCloud’s July layoffs were inevitable, the result of some 24 months of turmoil. Those workers spoke on the condition of anonymity, citing nondisclosure agreements and the fear of damaging personal relationships. In their view, SoundCloud is now a company in search of an identity — and money. One source close to the company, which has struggled to find an acquirer, told BuzzFeed News it is close to securing a new round of funding at more than $100 million. If it does, that person said, Soundcloud’s board may seek to remove company cofounder Alexander Ljung as CEO and make him chair. SoundCloud declined to make Ljung available for this story. A company spokesperson also declined to comment. With a valuation that at one point was expected to surpass $1 billion, SoundCloud was a web property unlike any other. Part audio streaming service, part social network, it offered a hub for creators to upload, share, and discuss nearly any kind of sound. It hosted bootleg remixes, spontaneously recorded Drake tracks, and bird songs. It provided a rich library of content for users hungry for audio offerings outside of the mainly standardized catalogues of Spotify, iTunes, and Pandora. In February, the company boasted that it had 150 million tracks, about five times the amount on Spotify or Apple Music. “We really see ourselves as creating something new — something that doesn’t exist,” Ljung told Forbes in a 2013 interview, alluding to similar online services including YouTube for video and Flickr for photos. “Our main competition, if you will, is that it doesn’t exist in the world yet, and we’re trying to create that space.” SoundCloud’s downfall, according to many former employees, was largely the result of a strategic misstep — a move to compete head-on with the giants of the music-streaming world. With the March 2016 launch of SoundCloud Go, a $9.99 per month subscription service, SoundCloud was a late entrant to a ferociously competitive streaming music space and with an array of services that offered no differentiation from incumbents like Spotify and Apple Music. It was a blunder, and its mismanaged rollout exacerbated the management and cultural issues that weighed heavily on the company. “No one comes to SoundCloud to listen to The Beatles’ catalogue,” said one investor. “SoundCloud did exactly what its users didn’t want it to do.” A series of emails shows how SoundCloud employees reacted to Justin Bieber uploading a new song under the name "Sir Bizzle" in April 2014. Images provided to BuzzFeed from sources SoundCloud began as pet project for Ljung, a sound engineer, and his Stockholm Royal Institute of Technology classmate Eric Wahlforss. As amateur musicians, they built the tool to share audio snippets with each other at school. Upon realizing there was nothing like it, they bought SoundCloud.com for $400 and moved to Berlin in 2007, sharing the service with other artists and producers they met in the city’s electronic music and techno scene. When SoundCloud moved out of beta and launched publicly in October 2008, it had 20,000 users and two inexperienced but enthusiastic founders who did everything to keep the site from crashing. It scooped up $3 million in funding the next year led by Doughty Hanson Technology Ventures, and passed the 1 million registered-user mark in May 2010. Artists flocked to SoundCloud for its ease of use and its cool factor. Listeners followed the artists, spreading the company’s gospel every time they commented on a track or shared one of its wave-form media players on a social network. SoundCloud never had a problem attracting people — by July 2013 it had 40 million registered users. Its issue was building a business around that traffic. While the company’s original revenue stream centered on selling accounts with more upload space to professional users, driving the majority of its $14.1 million of revenue in 2013, its founders set their sights on monetizing with ads. But SoundCloud, which lost $29.2 million that year, was handcuffed from the start, said multiple employees. In the early days, the company’s hands-off approach to regulating uploaded content allowed it to gain momentum, but that changed when rights holders and music labels began to take notice. More than half of the material posted to SoundCloud at the time was not authorized and cleared by the proper rights holders, according to two former employees. The company took no responsibility for the material uploaded and designated it as user-generated content — though employees were well aware that “gray area” material was frequently posted. Further complicating the matter were posts of remixes, songs with label-owned samples, and DJ sets — all staples of the SoundCloud ecosystem — that could have been subject to rights claims or legal issues. There was such a lack of clarity around material, said multiple employees, that the company’s general counsel advised them to avoid acknowledging that some of the site’s content might be under copyright. SoundClouders were asked not to favorite tracks, a common way of saving music, from their personal profiles, or to put links to audio tracks in company emails. Some workers made fake profiles to freely peruse the site. But by 2013, relationship-building with the entrenched music industry was well underway. The company hired talent from Amazon Music and other companies to negotiate with the three major music labels: Universal Music Group, Sony Music, and Warner Music Group. The idea was to develop long-term licenses for their content and, until they were in place, stave off any potential legal escalations. “Deals with the labels would have allowed us to have monetization,” said one former executive, who explained that no ads could be run across label-owned content without a revenue-sharing agreement.“We needed to make sure that we could grow unencumbered without a lawsuit.” But SoundCloud underestimated the time frame for those deals — severely. Two years would pass before the company had agreements with all three major labels in place, and it was able to ink them only after expending enormous effort making its service palatable to the music executives on the other side of the negotiating table. In the midst of those talks with the labels, Twitter inquired about an acquisition in spring 2014. Having missed on an opportunity to scoop up Instagram, the social network coveted SoundCloud’s user base and saw it as a tool to help a core group of power users — musicians — connect to fans. Former executives remember Twitter Chief Financial Officer Ali Rowghani meeting several times with the company, with some employees hoping for a scenario like Google’s 2006 acquisition YouTube, in which a larger company scooped up a startup and bankrolled it in spite of the legal risk. On the morning of May 19, Ljung called a handful of SoundCloud executives to say that papers of intent would be signed that day. But the deal collapsed. With SoundCloud holding out for just under $2 billion, Twitter balked, sources said, put off by the heady price tag, music industry headaches, and the discrepancy between Soundcloud's monthly visitors and its registered users. (Many people listened to SoundCloud’s content, but never registered with the site.) “Alex and Eric were devastated,” said one person familiar with the negotiations. SoundCloud CEO Alexander Ljung Anna Webber / Getty Images By the time acquisition talks with Twitter collapsed, Ljung and Wahlforss had been leading SoundCloud for seven years. The company employed more than 220 people, many of whom the founders had personally interviewed to cultivate a built-for-artists-by-artists culture. Among them was Jeff Toig, a former VP at mobile provider Cricket Wireless and founder of on-demand digital music service Muve. Ljung tapped Toig as SoundCloud's chief business officer, hoping his music industry experience would come in handy hammering out licensing deals with the major labels. He gave the Harvard Business School grad reign over advertising sales, marketing, and business development. By all accounts, it was a terrible move. Toig very quickly became a controversial figure at SoundCloud, known for publicly berating some of his reports and playing favorites with others. “He would carry a football around the office under his arm like a prop and he threw it to you to indicate that you were in the gang,” said one former SoundCloud employee. “He never threw it to women.” Several SoundCloud employees who spoke with BuzzFeed News characterized Toig as “a bully” who “created fear” at an organization once known for its flat reporting structure and the approachability of its executives. Three workers noted that he sometimes addressed women in the office by pet names like “sweetie.” Others recalled Toig shouting at an employee during a video presentation for not using his preferred PowerPoint style: size 10 Arial font with a black background. “To be a good CEO, you have to hire people that are better than you at certain things, and Alex was trying to do that,” one former SoundCloud employee told BuzzFeed News. “But Jeff wasn’t that guy… many felt like he was poisoning the well.” Indeed, some reported Toig's behavior to SoundCloud's upper management or filed complaints to its human resources department. One reported incident occurred during an Aug. 2014 photoshoot with a major news outlet, during which Toig was asked to suck in his stomach and puff out his chest. “You mean stick my tits out like the women on Madison Avenue?” he replied, according to multiple people in the room. Toig declined comment for this story. SoundCloud declined comment on his tenure at the company. Based in Berlin, Ljung and Wahlforss had an ocean between them and the goings on in their stateside offices, whose operation they’d entrusted to Toig. The chief business officer was also tasked with closing three major label deals ahead of the scheduled August 2014 launch of SoundCloud’s advertiser program. Ex-employees recall Ljung sometimes skipping important business meetings because he thought Toig could handle them. By that time, the SoundCloud cofounder had scooped up several entrepreneurial awards and adopted a more extravagant lifestyle. He attended the Grammys; he went deep-sea diving with sharks in the Bahamas; he partied with DJ Steve Aoki in Ibiza. And he Instagrammed all of it, irking employees worried that he’d disengaged from the company. One former employee who left in the summer of 2016 remembered a photo of Ljung taking a private jet. “People were like, that should be going to my salary,” they said. Investors were similarly put off. “He let it get to his head and he lost his focus,” said one. By August 2014, it was abundantly clear that the SoundCloud’s advertising program, which would allow artists and labels to collect royalties, would not launch as planned. Despite Toig’s promises, not a single major label had agreed to a deal. The project launched with a eleventh-hour pivot to focus on independent creators, with Toig later apologizing at an all-hands meeting for failing to sign the majors. (By March 2015, Toig was out of the gig; he was later tapped as CEO of Tidal Music, where he lasted for nine months.) Ljung assured everyone in attendance that the label arrangements would eventually get done. A few days later, he flew to California and went off the grid. It was time for Burning Man. “You mean stick my tits out like the women on Madison Avenue?” https://www.buzzfeed.com/ryanmac/inside-the-storm-at-soundcloud?utm_term=4ldqpia&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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