#so for now i’m just gonna doodle my way back into a groove

[smileyrice]

been getting back into BLs lately starting with roommates of poonduck 304 and our dating sim 🤭 pls enjoy this brainrot

[elekinetic]

Sending u asks for plane.

Okay, imagine the party take a trip together and they have to fly.

How does the plane ride go? Like does anyone have plane anxiety, do they eat way too many snacks, etc.

um. we don’t have to talk about how you sent this the LAST time i was on a plane.

OKAY so sticking w my personal headcanon that karen and hopper negotiate government payouts to all of the kids (full college rides, trusts, etc) as reparations for the utter bullshit they’ve been put through (and in exchange for their silence), i think the party takes a group vacation after they graduate high school. their parents are super hesitant to let them out of their sights, but they deserve some fun and dustin has an aunt in florida so it’s not even like they’re gonna be all alone, okay?

getting to indianapolis from hawkins just to get to the airport is a nightmare. the party had a sleepover in the wheelers’ basement so that they could just get up and go the next day, but one crazy movie marathon and two bottles of cheap sparkling wine nancy slipped them later, it is a struggle to pull their asses out of bed. the party has never been particularly punctual, so maybe it takes holly shouting down the stairs and dustin whacking his friends with pillows for them to get a move on. they have to be at the airport in two and a half hours, and it’s a three hour drive. well, usually. lucas climbs in the driver seat of the wheelers’ station wagon (mike: “shouldn’t i drive? it’s my car!” everyone: “NO.”) and races down the indiana highway, pushing 95 in a 70. it’s fine! he’s a great driver, really, and there’s no one out cause it’s five am (jesus christ) and listen as long as NO ONE tells their parents, it’s fine. el insists they blast the radio, and max — who basically pushed mike down the stairs so she could call shotgun (that’s not what happened, asshole! it totally was! guys, c’mon. what? he started it!) — indulges her ever madonna loving whim. will smiles and grooves along while dustin and mike white knuckle grip their seats.

they pull up to the airport and get their luggage checked with like, ten minutes to spare. they get settled into their seats with a sigh of relief, way in the back of the plane. they all sit on the same side of the plane, two sets of three seats right in front of each other. el, max, and lucas sit in the front, with will, mike, and dustin behind them. dustin immediately pulls out a blanket, pillow, sleep mask, and earplugs (“you’re laughing now, but i’m gonna sleep like a goddamn baby while you fuckers whine about neck pain all week.”) and promptly passes out. el and max quiz answers in a teen beat magazine she picked up from a newsstand (“is that really necessary? we’re already late!” el, gravely: “it is the most necessary.”) max idly curls her hand around lucas’ as he flips through an old comic.

will tries to doodle random passengers on the plane, but mike is freaking the fuck out and they haven’t even taken off yet. so, will shuts his sketchbook, props his chin up on his elbow, and asks mike what he thinks of this new campaign concept he heard about. mike starts rambling about how yeah sure, reintroducing mirakil is a cool concept but his motivation makes ZERO sense now that his family is dead and c’mon, lipiria is RIGHT THER—-hey! [max shoves her seat back at the same time dustin elbows him.] he gets so wrapped up in his spiel that he doesn’t even realize they’ve taken off til they’re a quarter into their flight. he’s still super anxious and gets up like three times to walk around the aisle before will makes them switch seats. mike can’t stop bouncing his leg, and his knee is pressed right up against the seat in front of him (because the leg room on this plane is abysmal, and he made sure to let everyone know that when they first sat down). el pops up and turns back to him:

“i understand why you are upset. we are in a very big metal box and are very high up. it does not make sense why we are not falling to our deaths.”

“um, el, i don’t know if that’s helping him—“

“i make things move with my mind, mike. that does not make sense. stop kicking my seat,” she huffs, and plops back down to her seat. mike goes red. will stifles a laugh. max giggles from where she was seemingly asleep on lucas’ shoulder, who’s eyes are twisted shut, asleep.

dustin wakes up just as they touch down in florida. he does not hesitate to share his frustration that they did not save ANY airline peanuts for him. (he refuses to hear them when they tell him that the peanuts weren’t even that good, or when they point out that he has a peanut allergy.)

[thebookowal]

I am going nuts over Webzone (not sure about the logo maybe I’ll change it) you better grab some snacks because worst staying here all night

Ever since I created them and I got nothing on my mind except them…. I have already created a lore for each and every one of them…. And I even finished their main design. They’re on my doodle book, but just the heads…..( only one of them I wasn’t really relaxed about how their hair look so I’m not gonna show until I figure out the good hair design)

The members of Webzone

1-Vj : the eldest, and the one with the bright idea about the themes of their shows and concerts… Responsible for everything(he might act like he isn’t and he is really is (not /sometimes ) responsible)

2-Vl: the second eldest and the mastermind behind the idea of creating this band….. who also got the looks… and the bod…(he trains a lot /drinks, a lot of protein)good at cooking take care of their little brothers when vj is busy, take care of &&$&&&$… slushy‘s gossip friend and prank, buddy

3-Slush.y : “THE ‘Y’ IS SILENT-“ the third oldest hyper and got the good moves, but got an anger, problem short tempered more like….and…… have a drug problem(fucking weed) sarcastic…. Prank master.(a fucking beast.)

4-mk: the fourth oldest….. Got the soft voice…. Knows how to flirt… shy little dude.. do not let him in the kitchen (can burn water) a nerd likes to read a lot(secretly want to be a lawyer)… the victim of all slush.y work(pranks)

5-DJ: the baby brother….. got the groove and the lyrics and the background music…. Without him webzone is nothing.(because of the lyrics and the background music.)…. you wanna laugh? He’s your man… smile never leaves his face (blush)* ahm*… Can be straightforward sometimes….. knows what boundaries are (but not as a robot)….. sometimes he overwork himself….. to the point he never slept in three days…(job application )….(sometimes when he talk, you feel like he smoked weed.)(cannot quit cigarette…… but can reduce the amount of using) spoiled Little baby girl ✨…..

Now for the lore 😈

OK…. So…… let’s start with how everything collapsed…… because everything was fine till this incident happened….. and I’m not talking on stage….(I’m really trying so hard not to copy brozone ) this incident happens to be inside their house…. All the older brothers were pressuring DJ telling him that this concert they’re going to have it’s the most important concert ever because if they mention to impress one person through this whole crowd (this person is very important ) they will succeed…… so they asked him to make a song very very important song….. at the moment to hear its name you’ll hear Oscar ‘ award’

he was so pressured to the point he started to cry when they all fall asleep he didn’t slept for a long time and he can’t deal with this whole pressure thing. He does good under pressure, but the amount they gave him was not like usual….. until the next morning they were all freshen up very well slept and ready to hear DJ new song….. which he never wrote…… they asked him more like yelled at him. Why haven’t you wrote in the song?….. he screamed back for the first time in years…… he can’t deal with his pressure and he’s scared…. They had a very terrible fight. and the only person that actually went kept quiet (after he saw how stressed DJ was confused of course he was ) was. Vl……. DJ stormed. out of his room the one proceeded to go after him was slush.y…. Slushy did felt. pressure. That small little DJ.(who is a teenager by the way.) was having.

DJ secretly was preparing His excepted to art and music college application…. He sent it and they accepted him.(he was so happy he’s going to fulfill his dreams of becoming a DJ…… is going to be hard to find a job….. but at least he’s going to be he always wanted to be)…… so that night DJ was preparing his bags to actually leave for college….. He didn’t tell his brother which he got accepted and he didn’t even tell him he sent it already…… he wanted it to be a surprise (but then this concert showed up) He wrote a letter saying that he’s leaving and will meet when he is succeed in life…. And he left it in the living room on the coffee table…. And took one look and never got back again….. this was the end of WEBZONE

What actually caused them to leave was the pressure ….. and the fact they didn’t really wanted to hear what he wanted to be….. they all actually took it from having fun……to succession for money for fame… each one of them got blinded by greed…… until they lost their little baby brother….. this caused them to separate

The aftermath of the break up of the well-known band webzone

1-Vj: became a wrestler in an illegal arena…. he’s not proud of it, but it gives him money…… the man that will break your heart kind of material…. known by ‘poison smile’ got tattoo of his Arena name

2-Vl : open the restaurant (it got karaoke… and a stage to perform in) married a goth woman… her name is Lilith…. he got 5 kids 1 girl 4 boys . The oldest is a boy. The second oldest is a girl…. and the youngest is a baby named disc(you can say he’s a younger version of DJ by the action I mean) very chill dude….talks business…. financially stable.

3-slush.y : owns a party house(it’s a place where you’re going to party 24 hours every day) it looks more like a a nightclub than a house(and yes, it is his actual house)…… nightstand(to the fucking roof he lost track boy)…… the last person you go to for advice…. Actually loves slushy’s..(he actually loves to drink them all the time/he even makes them with alcohol drinks)….. smokes weed….. from where he got all that money?? answer ! scams boy(he plays 21)

4-mk : he became a lawyer. He is a very famous one too….. and actually… knows BB from a distance…(I don’t know if anybody remember this or does this person rings a bell)…. Actually, have a very stable lifestyle…. And love, criminal movies and yes, he is still a nerd….(try so hard to contacts all his brothers managed to only contact Vl…. and now he is his lawyer)

5-DJ the baby brother have become successful and heard about…… all over(he worked at the make a pizza Plex) he is a stable relationship with y/n…. Best friends with moon and sun (specially moon) doesn’t really speak to eclipse(eclipse is very distant from DJ) he got what he have always wanted and more(he doesn’t want his siblings to find out… because he doesn’t know how they’ve changed….. he just hope that everything happened for a reason and it’s probably for the better)

~THE END~ Did you have any idea how long this has been cooking in my brain?……. And I have been preparing some old pictures as well so as a small little, you know apology….. even though it’s not really a good apology

Baby DJ wearing Vj shirt

and here is a first description of how the siblings are now after the aftermath

[guileheroine]

by your hand is the only end i foresee

1.2k of catradora angst written for the pine4pine exchange 💔 / ao3

Aside from her old cadet uniform and a few ration bars she kept tucked away for midnight cravings—items she was very happy to leave behind—Adora’s personal possessions in the Fright Zone were few, enough to fit in a tied-up old pillowcase.

Precious few: her first official commendation (back when those things mattered), a bracelet she had woven from the leather of her old training shoes, and a few folded up pieces of paper, held together with a blackened elastic that would snap any moment. She wanted to leave these behind, too, but it was easier said than done. Much easier, considering Adora had gone out of her way to grab the little pile from the secret place under beneath her bunk, and cram it, running, into her jacket, before she and her new friends stole away from the Horde forever, again.

She knew she shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t even have been thinking about it. It could have cost them dearly, actually. Yet she couldn’t help it then, with their old quarters just a dash down the corridor—and she couldn’t help it now, as she unfolded the creased old notes and read. She pored over each word, like she was five years old again and barely learning how, just to make them last. Crayons from The Horde came in four colours: black, grey, red, and brown. Catra always made the most of them, scrawling like a machine, her hand skidding out of the borders of the paper sometimes. In an instant, Adora could almost smell them again, a memory she could never have imagined relishing. Could never have imagined feeling so complicated.

AdoRA

DO NOT try to steal my bars again EVER .

just ask. i got them for us!

Then there was a crude heart, before Catra signed her name the way she always did, with a claw-groove underscoring the letters. There were a handful like that, short—and sweet, in hindsight, whether they were meant that way or not. And now, more than a little bitter. Adora traced the groove on each one with her fingertip, her brow threatening to crinkle, hating how tender her own touch was, how quickly her stupid eyes welled.

Adora— remember we need a bigger bunk. It’s gonna come quicker if you ask. If you kick me in the face again you won’t sleep for a week.

Adora, Thanks for standing up for me after training today. Let’s be on the same team next week?

Adora. This is gonna be your face after I kick your ass tomorrow. (Accompanied by a pretty scary drawing of Adora frowning furiously and crying puddles, with Catra cackling in the background, flexing biceps she had never had in her life.)

Adora missed her crazy doodles. She regretted that there weren't more of them here.

The messages were actually fewer than she remembered, too; and as she flicked through them she knew that most of them were missing. She had probably just tossed them behind her shoulder without a second thought, because what had it mattered when they had each other right there, forever? She wondered if Catra had kept any of her notes and figured she had probably torn them to shreds the first chance she got.

Why couldn’t Adora do the same?

Maybe it was just that clinging to them felt like a way of holding on to their friendship, even though all signs told Adora that it was beyond hope of repair now. After all, the scribbles they shared had felt like something so private, so special to them. There weren't exactly gifts to give in the Fright Zone, so they sufficed as tokens of friendship in a way little else could, like evidence. They fell into the habit of writing the kind of things that got said aloud much less often—how they would look out for each other, how they worried sometimes about the future. Adora, and only Adora, knew that Catra often found it easier to express those feelings in writing, in a kind of private that could never be overheard or interrupted. So yeah, it was special. It was the last shred of love Adora had from a friendship that seemed to have slipped through her fingers before she knew it was gone, and she treated these notes carefully. Evidence.

Sniffling, she wondered if she could take a page out of Catra’s book. If writing something down might make her feel better. It hurt horribly to feel so far away from Catra, but if Adora focused hard enough on the page and imagined she was talking to her maybe that pain would recede. Adora fetched the journal Glimmer had presented her with when she moved in and found a fresh page, bending the spine over in that way that always seemed to make Bow wince.

Dear Catra,

Then she held the pen frozen to the page for so long that the ink seeped all the way through. She blew on it to make sure it wouldn't smudge easy, and wrote.

You are my enemy now and you always will be.

She read it over like a drill. It was important to get this into her head. And only then did she write out the rest of her feelings, the words—and tears—finally flowing freely.

...I will always miss you.

When she got to that part, it felt like an exhale, even if the admission was guilty. Because it was the other irreversible truth, the other side of the coin to the animosity she was still struggling to understand. She let the pen clatter momentarily before picking it up again, resuming speed as if she had never stopped. By the time she came to the end of the page she found that her head was clearing even if her tears weren’t, because she was being honest with Catra—

I’m sorry things ended up like this, I really am.

—And herself.

But even if we could go back in time, I wouldn’t do things any other way.

Love,

Adora

Adora didn’t read it over when she was done. She just stretched her wrist and folded the page over. Then she wrote a quick note beside it, because she didn’t quite trust Glimmer and Bow not to snoop. No, it wasn’t her intention to give this letter to Catra. What good would it do? Even if she sent it, Catra probably wouldn’t understand. She couldn't trust her to understand: that was still such a strange and new feeling. Adora felt the distance between them like a throb, like a chasm wider than space. She wondered if they would ever be connected again. Forever without her seemed like such a hard bargain, such a slog…

The same forever that she had once been able to promise Catra without blinking twice.

Adora rubbed her eyes and left her head resting in her hands when she was done. Maybe there were other forevers, other universes. In a desperate moment, she wondered if she could send Catra a sign that would survive the end of the world as they knew it, that could bridge the gap between them just by biding time and space for as long as necessary… It felt as impossible as the distance. She rubbed her temples as if to literally ease the pain. She could only hope that it would let up with time.

[swearwolf-writes]

Sunset Curve not Sunset Straight (pt. 8)

It’s been a long day. Halloween is almost here and Flynn is raving.

“So we gotta get our costumes, matching, obviously. Oooh, maybe the boys can come as ghosts-!” She jumps up and down on Julie’s bed, it’s owner shaking her head. “They’re supposed to be from Sweden, remember?” “Oh, right.” She sat still, playing with Julie’s mic. “Your doodles are awesome - do the boys draw too?” Julie raises her eyebrows at her best friend, “Do you have a crush on them?” “Les-be honest,” Flynn wiggles her eyebrows, “you’re the only one with a crush on any of em.” Flynn still doesn’t know about Julie and Luke, Julie still trying to figure out how to tell her bestfriend that she’s dating a ghost.

“Julie has a crush?” Reggie saunters into the room and flops onto the bed next to them. “Do tell.” “I don’t have a crush!” She lightly pushes his shoulder, Flynn looking confused. “Which one-?” “Reggie’s here.” She points to the seemingly empty space on her bed, Reggie waving goodnaturedly despite the fact that Flynn still can’t see him. “He’s waving.” She grins and waves at thin air. The bassist turns back to Julie. “So what’s going on?” “Flynn here,” she gives the girl a pointed look, “thinks I have a crush on one of you guys. I told her I don’t-” Reggie and Flynn share a knowing look despite her not being able to see him. “-I mean isn’t there some sort of unofficial rule about bandmates dating?” “Boy, I hope not-” Julie blinks at him, slightly shocked. “Wait, did any of you guys date-?” He sits up, glancing between the girls suspiciously. “Are you winding me up or did you really not know?” “Know what?” “That they used to date.” Julie slowly moves her gaze over to Flynn. “Apparently Luke and Alex used to date?” Julie fills her in, the lesbian punching the air. “I called it!”

“Wait, you said used to? Why did they break up?” The girls stare at him expectantly, the boy raising his hands in defence of himself. “That is their business whether they tell you or not. But,” he jumps off the bed and moves towards the door, “I do have a bunch of polaroids from when they were dating.” She follows suit, grabbing Flynn’s hand and dragging her with them. “Lead the way!” “The way to where?” “Memory lane.” Julie grins and squeezes her hand, the girl not understanding her but going along with it anyways.

“Ta-da~!” Reggie brings the old box, down from the loft, setting it on their old table. Flynn creates a groove in the dust and wipes her dirty finger down in disgust. “This seems cool but my mom needed me home an hour ago. And remember, we’re matching this Halloween, alright? I’m thinking the creepy twins from The Shining. Or maybe we’ll be Ghost Busters.” “Hey!” Reggie complains to deaf ears as she smirks and walks out, waving goodbye. “I’ll think about it.”

She turns back to the pouting ghost and pats his knee. “We won’t bust you guys.” “I know, I know.” He shakes his head and turns back to the box, blowing the dust away as best as he can while Julie coughs in the background. “Pros of being dead: we don’t actually need to breathe so dust doesn’t make us cough either.” She continues coughing and glares at him, the boy quickly avoiding her gazing and opening the box.

“Aww, check these out.” He picks up some old pictures, smiling nostalgently. He shows them to Julie, watching as she smiles at the boys’ goofing off. “This is you guys and Trevor- Bobby?” “Yeah, Christmas, 1994.”

“All I want for Christmas is you~” Bobby sang along cheerfully to the song on the radio, taping mistletoe to the strings criss-crossed across the studio. The plant was all over the room, inescapable.

“Seriously, dude?” Luke walked into the studio, Alex and Reggie close on his heels. “If you’re gonna live in my garage, I get to decorate.” Alex groaned as Reggie whooped quietly, grabbing their camera and taking pictures of the bizarre décor. Bobby stopped the other boys in their tracks, pointing up above their heads. Mistletoe. “Seriously-” Alex stared at the rhythm guitarist with disbelief, only to be met with complete seriousness. The boys blushed as they met in a sweet kiss, Luke’s hand on Alex’s jaw, the taller boy resting his hand on the shorter’s waist. Bobby and Reggie cheered teasingly, the bassist capturing the moment in a picture.

“They were, like, together-together, huh?” “Bobby and I had a bet that they’d be engaged before they were 20.” Julie raises her eyebrows, cooing quietly. “And then you didn’t even live till 20.” Reggie side-eyes Julie goodnaturedly, gasping in mock-offence. “We died, Julie- that’s not something you joke about-” She raises her hands in defence, checking out the other pictures.

“Hey, you guys looked cute here.” She shows him a picture, the boys sat on Luke’s couch, Reggie taking a selfie with the four of them. They were grinning widely, Julie chuckling as she finds its sequel.

“Alright, I’m taking another-!” Reggie warned the band as he raised the polaroid camera. Bobby swung an arm over Alex’s shoulders, the quartet smiling brightly. “Say cheese!” Reggie took the picture, blushing brightly as Luke pressed a kiss to his cheek, the image holding that memory firmly.

Reggie flushes brightly as he spots the second image in Julie’s hand. He reaches over to try and take the picture from her hand, Julie jumping out of the way as she watches his reactions.

“Oh my God-!” “What?” “You have a crush on Luke!”  The boy babbles unintelligibly as his cheeks grow hotter. “No, you have a crush on Luke!” He pulls an Uno reverse card from his pocket, Julie bursting out into laughter as she sees the card. “I mean, we’re dating so I guess you’re right - but I don’t deny it - unlike you.” He relents with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck. “So maybe I have a small crush on Luke-” Julie bounces on the balls of her feet, slapping his shoulder wildly. “Awesome!”

He looks at her strangely. “You’re not mad?” “Why would I be?” “You got there first?” She shakes her head and flops, graceful as always, next to him. “You got there in 1994 or 95 - you just didn’t know it.” Reggie opens his mouth to protest but quickly closes it as he realises he has nothing to say to that. “That…. is true. Fair enough.”

They sit in silence, flicking through photos, Julie glancing back up at her bandmate every now and again. “You gonna tell him?” He splutters and sets the pictures down, mussing his hair. “Absolutely not.” “Why not?” She crosses her arms, setting the old polaroids on the table. “Because he likes you.” “He’s poly-” “Which doesn’t necessarily mean he likes me.”, he pointed out. “But it means he might.” She pokes his stomach, Reggie snorting and paling suddenly.

Julie looks back at where he’s staring, spotting Luke standing by the door, Julie’s old ipod still playing music from the earphones dangling in his hand.

“Luke! Look, Julie, it’s Luke. Lukester, Lukiepoo, Luke-a-” Reggie’s impromptu rambling is cut off by Julie, her hand plastered over his mouth. “Been there, done that - not fun.” She mumbles at him, smiling widely at the singer. “Hey, Luke!” “Hey.” He walks into the garage and spots the pictures, grinning brightly. “Oh hey, it’s Christmas!” Reggie moves Julie’s hand from his mouth. “Uh, yeah, I might have told Julie that you and Alex used to date and showed her the polaroids.” “She already knew, dude.” He kneels on the floor and looks between the old pictures, smiling sadly at the pictures of the four boys. “No, I didn’t.” Luke looks up in surprise at the girl. “I swear I told you-” She shakes her head, avoiding the urge to smile. “Oh- well, Alex and I used to date.” She shares a look with Reggie, their affection for the ghost clear in their eyes. “Who’d’ve guessed?”

She reaches towards the table and knocks some of the pictures off. “Oops- Reggie, help me pick these up.” She sends a sweet smile Luke’s way, her heart fluttering when he sends one back, and pulls Reggie down by the elbow. Luke raises an eyebrow, one earphone in as he hums and keeps rifling through the images.

“Ow-!” He hisses quietly as he hits said elbow on the table. The pair face each other, confusion all over the poor boy’s face. “Sorry-” She winces and shakes her head, slowly picking the pictures. “You gotta tell him-” She whispers, the boy frantically shaking his head. “I can’t-” “What’s the worst that could happen?” “Easy for you to say - you know he likes you.” He looks around, seeing Luke’s jean-cladded knees shuffle around he continues, seemingly unaware of their conversation. “I can’t ruin things between us. We’re family and I can’t-” “You won’t lose him,” she puts a hand on his knee, looking up at him, “he used to date Alex, right?” The boy nods, busying himself with the fallen polaroids. “And they’re still good, right?” “That doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt each other-” He sighs as he picks up the last picture. It was one of Luke with his family, taken only a few weeks before he ran away.

He was kneeling with his dog, Zeppelin, his parents smiling brightly as he tried to get the dog to stay still. “Stay.” The dog behaved himself, Luke swinging one arm over his back. “Good boy.” “Smile!” Reggie lifted the camera, snapping the picture just as the dog gets excited and jumps up, knocking Luke over and licking his face. The teenager yelped in surprise, laughing as he tried to shift the large animal. Reggie took another two pictures of this scene, the first image probably coming out blurry.

He’d kept the blurred image, one of the non-blurry pictures given to Luke’s parents and the other to Luke. He could still hear the scene in his head. “Luke’s been through enough. I don’t wanna hurt him-”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” The pair jump up from under the table, Reggie this time hitting his head, the rest of the pictures falling off the table. “Fuck-!” He groans loudly, pressing his hand against his head. “I get that we’re sorta tangible now but that doesn’t mean I have to keep hurting myself!” He yells at no one in particular. Luke moves next to the whining boy, looking at his head. “You’re fine. And, y’know, not hurt.” He whips his head, ignoring the mild pain in his head as his cheeks flare bright red. “Did you just call me fine-?” “Yup.” He grins and picks up Julie’s black cat, making soft soothing noises and stoking her soft fur. “Even Melody agrees, Reggie’s pretty fine.” Said ghost looks between Luke, Julie and the cat wondering if they were playing an elaborate prank on him.

“What…. is going on?” He tilts his head, setting the pictures on the table and moving to pick the rest of the pictures. The singer looks at Julie as he tries to come up with an explanation, scratching lightly behind Melody’s ears. “I might have been eavesdropping?” Reggie groans and covers his face, shuffling the images in his hands nervously. “How much did you hear-?” “Like all of it-” “God-” He puts the pictures down on the table, looking up at Luke who gave the cat to Julie.

“Look-” Reggie starts only to have Luke cut him off. “Can I actually go first-?” Reggie bites his lip anxiously, looking over to Julie who gives him a thumbs up. He smiles and nods at him, Luke sitting in front of him, their legs crossed.

“I like you. Have since ‘93 - I didn’t realise till I was dating Alex and so tried to push it out of mind. I didn’t know poly was a thing till now and I know now that I like my very awesome girlfriend,” he smiles shyly as he thinks of her, “and I like our very awesome bassist.” Reggie blinks at him in disbelief. Luke frowns and looks back at Julie who shrugs. He waves a hand in front of his face, Reggie jerking back instinctually. “You good, dude?” He just gapes, red spreading further over his ears. “My crush of two years just said he’s liked me for 3- This-”, he gestures vaguely at the group, “this isn’t possible-” “Is it really that hard to believe?” Julie raises her eyebrows at him from the couch. “That Luke Patterson has a crush on me? Yes.” “Why? You’re hot, you play at least three instruments and can read Shakespeare off the top of your head.” Reggie freezes. “You called me hot-” “Yes, Reggie. Y’see, I have these things called eyes- I get that yours don’t work as well as most people’s-” “Oh, come on; I haven’t worn glasses since I was like 15-” “That doesn’t mean you don’t need them-” “We’re dead, man. I’m pretty sure I don’t need them- or do I-?” They sit in silence as they ponder their afterlife, Julie watching her dummies.

She coughs, drawing their attention towards her. She motions towards the two of them, the pair blushing as they remember their conversation. Julie sighs and lets Melody go, marching towards them with her hands on her hips. The boys lean back, slightly intimidated. “Luke, you like Reggie?” “Yes.” “And Reggie, you like Luke?” “Yeah.” “Luke, do you wanna date Reggie?” The latter looks up at her in surprise. “Definitely.” Reggie stares at the ghost, pleasantly surprised. “Reggie, d’you wanna date Luke?” “Yes?” “Good - you are now dating. Congratulations.”

Reggie stares blankly at the girl. “Wait, what-?” “What what?” “That’s that? We’re suddenly dating now?” “Pretty much.” She nods and smiles happily, chuckling at Luke’s excited grin. “I have a girlfriend and boyfriend- awesome!” He gazes at the pair of them softly, Reggie giggling happily. “I have a boyfriend-” The pair beam at him. “My first boyfriend. Wicked!” He smiles brightly as Alex and Willie walk in.

“Finally!” Alex stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets, shaking his head at them. “I’ve been watching you two pine over each other for years.” “I wouldn’t say years-” Reggie attempts to defend them. “I would.”

Willie sits next to Julie and watches the exchange, taking his notebook out and tapping the table to let her know he’s there. “Hey Willie.” “Hey Jules.”, he says, writing it onto the pad, adding a smiley face.

“And we weren’t ‘pining’.” Luke backs up his boyfriend, Reggie nodding in support. “Are you kidding me- You look at each other like that cat from Shrek-” Melody hisses at the word cat before returning to grooming herself on top of Julie’s piano. Alex narrows his eyes at the cat. “Gremlin-” “Don’t be mean to my baby-” She tosses one of Luke’s shirts at him, the boy just watching as it passes through him. “Your ‘baby’ is mean-” He grumbles, sitting next to Willie.

“So how was your date?” Willie smiles brightly, lightly nudging the blond with his shoulder. “We went to the old Ghost Club and smoked weed mostly - no clue why but eating and stuff, still possible there, even without Caleb.” Willie talks and writes for Julie, Alex hiding his face in his cap. “There may have been some graffiti involved-” “Alex? Our straight-laced, trustworthy Alex broke the law?” Luke looks between the two ghosts, impressed but in complete disbelief. “Technically, the law doesn’t actually apply to us anymore. So, no, he did not.” “Alright, Alex! Welcome to the dark side; we break the rules and look good doing it.” Reggie pats his knee, groans escaping from behind the hat. He sweeps his hair back and puts the cap on, Willie staring at him with adoration in his eyes. “What-” “You’re cute.” “I’m-” The flustered boy takes a, technically unnecessary, breath. “Okay-” Willie giggles quietly at the pink flourishing across his boyfriend’s face, Luke, Reggie and Julie sharing a look.

Luke nods towards the door and the trio leave the couple to themselves. “So, they’re adorable.” Reggie remarks as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Right?” Luke walks backwards, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sleeveless hoodie. “Like, I can’t even see Willie and I can still tell they’re meant for each other.” Julie tucks a curl behind her ear, talking animatedly with Reggie, Luke watching them with a soft grin on his face. ‘My girlfriend and boyfriend - awesome!’ 

[the-sweetest-dragon]

Souls Uniting

Part One: Moving Day

Pairing: eventual Soulmate!Peter Parker x OC Phoenix Graves

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, just world building

AN: I’m kinda in love with this AU, not gonna lie.

Tags: @audder17 you spider-man lover you

Check out this character sheet here

_________________________________________________________

A soulmate is not found.  A soulmate is recognized. -  Vironika Tugaleva

9:32 A.M., Friday, May 31st, 2019

Soft music played in the background as Mom and I moved around our old apartment.  Throwing things in boxes, not caring if things break; things were just things after all.  All of our personal things had already been shipped across half the nation, sent to their new home in Queens, New York.  We were moving, again.  I wonder if this one will be permanent or if we’ll be moving again in a few months.  Not that I was sad to leave Topeka, in fact I loved that we were leaving.  I was going to miss what few friends I have made here, but they would be easily forgotten, just like all my other old friends.  I was finally going back to my birth state of New York and I felt… excited.  We hadn’t been back since I was eight, so my memories of our old apartment were faded, but the warm feeling lingered.

Mom pushed her black hair out of her eyes, huffing slightly at the work we still had left to do.  Her job made us move around a lot, being a freelance writer does that for you.  Sometimes, when she didn’t want me going with her, she’d leave me at home for weeks at a time.  I never really mind being left alone; I’m just fine by myself.  

I tape up the last box and head downstairs, Mom close on my heels with boxes of her own.  We were going to be driving to Queens, rather than taking a plane.  Planes freaked both my mom and I out; being so far off the ground wasn’t natural and I absolutely hated it.  So, we drove.  Since I got my license, this was going to be the first time I would be able to take a turn so Mom could rest.  She’s both nervous and excited at the prospect of a break.  The drive was about twenty hours, nonstop, and we had planned a few stops on our way there.  Our summer was going to be fun, despite the moving.  

“You ready Phee?” Mom asks.  I smile ruefully and pull my hair up off my neck for a moment.  The air is still slightly cool, not quite summer yet and I’m happy that we are leaving before the heat really sets in.

“I was born ready Mom.”  She smiles and bumps my arm.  

“Have any more drawings shown up on your arm?” she asks.  I sigh.  I should have never mentioned the signs from my soulmate.  Mom seems to think that whoever is is, they have to be in New York.  Why does she think this?  I have no clue and I hate to ask.  Mothers’ minds work differently to us teens’.  I begrudgingly slide my sweater sleeve up for her to look at.  Last night a crude drawing of a spider had shown up on my arm, completely in pen.  I couldn’t wash it off until the other person washed off the art.  “Well, that’s not that good is it?”  Mom laughs softly and opens the door to the truck.

“It’s really not.  I half wanted to draw something back, but I thought that may be show-offish.”  I smirk and hop into the truck.  I’m ready to go, have been since we came here to be completely honest.  Kansas kinda sucked, but the winter’s where we’re going are even worse so I’m not sure which I prefer.

“Have you ever written back?” she asks quietly as she starts the truck.  I look out the window, too scared to tell her no.  I hadn’t written back because I wasn’t sure that soulmates were a thing I wanted.  A person that the universe made for you isn’t always the person that is right for you.  Love doesn’t work that way.  I softly trace the outline of the spider and wonder who the person may be, what they’re like and if they really were in New York.  “It wouldn’t kill you to at least answer them, Phee.  It may even start a conversation.”  Mom held out an ink pen.  I stare at it for a moment before taking it from her.

“I don’t…” I start then stop, to think about what I want to say, how to word what I’m feeling.  “What do I even say to them?”  Mom smiles and shakes her head.  I buckle my seat-belt as she starts to pull away from our old building.

“Just doodle.  See what comes pouring out.  Let your heart guide your hand.”  

Smiling, I set the tip of the pen against my skin and begin my slow descent into the depths of my artistic ability.  I draw constellations on my arms, connecting the dots when we pause to eat in Indianapolis.  While stopped, I dug out my favorite set of markers from a box in the back and sketch out a better looking spider, wondering if the other person will notice right away that they have had more added to their arms than the usual note or number adorning their wrist.  I liked having numbers on my wrist, like a countdown to an important day.  I would doodle a lot in middle school, always bored with something.  I hope whoever it is doesn’t mind the drawings I set into our skin.  

Our cats, Salem and Sabrina were allowed brief interludes of being out of their kennels to walk about on their leashes and eat.  I worry about them when we move because they’re usually kept enclosed for hours at a time, which isn’t good for them.  I make sure to give them both a cuddle before we leave the state of Indiana to make the last little bit of our trip.  

I drive for a while, wondering about whoever was tethered to me.  Do they believe in this soulmate stuff?  A small part of me hopes they do, because when the soulmate is right, it can be magic.  One of my friends back in Olympia recently found her soulmate, after years of wondering about the time stamped on her wrist.  She had met her girlfriend at exactly 2:43 A.M., in a coffee shop not too far from her house.  She said that it was an instant click, like a string attached her to this person and the only way to ease the tension was to go towards that pull.  It sounded wonderful, but I had seen too many people get ruined by believing their soulmate was the only one the universe had made for them. 

The awful part of having a soulmate was knowing that most people had them, but there was always a small chance that you didn’t or found the wrong one.  I believe that the universe makes several soulmates for each individual; sometimes, the soulmates aren’t ready for each other or the bond isn’t reciprocated.  It hurts to know that your soulmate could exist, but not want you.  And the ones who lose their soulmates?  They’re rarely the same afterwards.  I glance towards the black band around my mother’s wrist.  When she was young, the band had been pure gold; her soulmate was alive and well.  And they found each other, they loved until they couldn’t anymore.  Her soulmate, my father, passed away weeks before I was born and Mom was never the same.  She hated staying in the same place, things always felt weird to her, like the world was just a little off kilter.  

Soulmates were great, until they weren’t there anymore.

2:55 A.M., Saturday, June 1st, 2019

We drive for several more hours until we get into Pennsylvania to stop for the night.  Mom gets us a motel room and we grab some food from the vending machines before hitting the hay.  It’s nearly four A.M. when I finally close my eyes.  Waking up was going to be difficult, but I wasn’t fond of the dreams I had been having.  Visions of a terrifying, flying monster coming towards me had haunted my dreams since the fall and I absolutely hated them.  I toss and turn for a few hours, before Mom shakes me awake.

“Time to go Phoenix.”  I groan and cover my head with a pillow.  I hear Mom laugh softly.  “I have chocolate chip muffins.”  Now that is how you get my attention.  I’m immediately up and ready to go.  Mom just laughs at me as I stuff muffins into my mouth.  “We have about a three hour drive to our new apartment.  You ready?”

I tap my chin in thought for a few moments before nodding.  “Just keep the muffins coming.”  

Mom shakes her head as we pack up the few belongings we brought into the motel room.  I check on the cats, make sure that they have food and take them on a short walk to do their business.  Mom and I get back into the truck to complete the drive, with me driving until we reach the city.  We groove out to the radio, shouting the words to Lizzo’s Truth Hurts, when Mom notices that I have a bit of marker on my face.  

“I’m sure your person will love having marker on their face.”  I laugh and shake my head.  She wipes away the marks with her thumb.  “There, all better.”  

We switch once we reach the New York state line and I put our new address into the GPS.  I make Mom pull over for a quick lunch at McDonalds before we continue on to our new home.  This is when it starts to rain, making me glad that we switched.  I hate driving in the rain; makes it hard to see and I enjoy seeing.  While at the McDonalds, I washed off all the old marker in the bathroom.  An elderly woman saw me and smiled, knowing that was my soulmate’s mark on me.  I frowned at my reflection in the mirror; I looked a mess but I didn’t really think it mattered that much.  All we were doing was driving.  

Once back on the road, Mom talks to me about the school I’d be attending next semester, Midtown High School.  She tells me that it’s more science based and I crinkle my nose.  I’m smart, don’t get me wrong, but science is not really my forte.  I’m more of an artsy, creative writing, type rather than an intellectual sciencey type.  Mom sees the worry in my face and tries to soothe the worries by giving me the best news possible.

“Michelle Jones goes there.”  My heart drops and I let out a very unlike me squeal.  Michelle was one of my best friends from when we lived here before.  We kept in touch and she was still a huge part of my life.  “I take that as a good thing?”

“It’s the best thing you’ve said all day!”  I give her a side hug, making sure to keep my arm away from the steering wheel.  Mom laughs and shakes her head ruefully.  I’m giddy in my seat now.  “How much longer till we get there?”

“About an hour.  You should call her, see if she’d want to come hang out and help us unpack.”  I nod and text her quickly.  She answers back quickly and we make a plan to hang out tomorrow.  I glance down at my arms, wondering if there is anymore doodles on them but all I can see is a faded spider.  I trace its legs with a fingertip; why a spider?  What meaning could it possibly have?  Maybe, whoever it is is a fan of the Spider-Boy thing that crawls around Queens.  I shrug and decide to look out the window to pass the time we have left in the car.

4:17 P.M., Saturday, June 1st, 2019

When we finally reach our new apartment, the first thing I do is let Salem and Sabrina out to walk around a little bit.  I bring them into the apartment after getting a few confused looks and help Mom unpack all our junk.  The apartment has two bedrooms, a fairly spacious kitchen and bathroom, and a practically nonexistent living room.  The room barely fits our rather small couch and television set, but I don’t really mind.

“I’ve been given the go ahead on painting the walls,” says Mom.  I smile at her; our last apartment wouldn’t let us decorate very much, which was fine, but I made sure to ask specifically for a building that would allow me to paint the walls.  I wanted my artwork to surround me and make it feel more like a home, rather than a place where we happen to live.  I made a mental note to start sketching ideas when I finally had time to do so this summer.    

I finish unpacking the stuff for my room and get to work putting my mattress down onto the frame we had ordered a week ago to be delivered here.  The room wasn’t huge, but I would make do.  It held my desk and bed fairly well; that’s all I really needed anyways.  Sometime during me opening boxes of stuff, Mom ordered Chinese food from a place down the street from us.  A knock can be heard throughout the small apartment and I can hear Mom have a short conversation with the delivery guy before calling my name for dinner.  

Dinner is great, and warm.  I snarf down my sweet and sour chicken quickly, wanting to get back to unpacking as soon as I can.  

“Slow down, Phee.  You’re gonna make yourself sick,” Mom says with a shake of her head.  But I’m distracted now by the slow arrival of a new drawing on my right forearm.  I show Mom, not sure of what it is.  “It looks like a science formula for something.  I’m no expert though.”  I shrug and finish my food.  Time to sketch my ideas for the walls onto paper. 

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Simulation Ride' - Merpire

I’ve been on a bit of a Daria kick lately, watching the series from the very beginning and other clips on YouTube.

Even now, almost 20 years since it ended, its dry, snarky humour and deep sense of jadedness still resonates with us as we try to navigate a stranger and even more uncertain world. It’s timeless.

Merpire’s fuzzy, sprawling dream pop would make a great soundtrack for the series (especially since the music rights to the original are long gone, replaced with chintzy muzak). An exploration of the ‘workings and not-workings' of her mind, the Melbourne-based singer/songwriter (born Rhiannon Atkinson-Howatt) takes us through ‘the rom-com and horror sections of my internal video store’ on her debut album, Simulation Ride, effortlessly fusing sonic calm with the chaos of everyday life.

On ‘Dinosaur,’ she channels her social anxiety into scuzzy, ramshackle guitar, taking inspiration from the Jurassic Park philosophy: ‘If you stay still, they can’t see you.’ Later, she wonders ‘How long do I have before this sinks in?’ amid grimy riffs and space-age atmospherics, gripped by a youthful longing that threatens to consume her. ‘Village’ sees her crippled by self-doubt, building from a gently-picked guitar to a sluggish thrash of a chorus as the singer captures the thoughts that plague many an introvert in painfully vivid detail.

Highlight ‘Lately’ is late night ruminations set to heartfelt swoons and an easy groove, painting a vivid portrait of suburban heartache (‘I've started missing strange things/Your spray deodorant routine/It would choke me in the morning/While I was tryin' to sleep’). Seriously, those harmonies are just sublime. ‘Brain Cells,’ on the other hand, restlessly soars, mimicking the ebb and flow of Atkinson-Howatt's relationship woes.

But as the record progresses, her confidence slowly grows. She finds a sense of community among Melbourne’s vibrant music scene on ‘Habit,’ at her most joyous and serene (‘I'm gonna love each and every one of you/I can't help it, I can't help it/It's too easy when you love me the way you do’). ‘Easy’ strips things down, the singer reminding a lover that ‘You’re not the one who completes me.’

‘Yusiimi,’ meanwhile, is the bittersweet end credits to Atkinson-Howatt's coming of age. Once a ‘creature of habit,’ the singer now yearns to be ‘like you see me,’ her love unrequited but now not so willing to stand on the sidelines as she seeks a place to settle.

Simulation Ride is music for Merpire’s ‘fellow daydreamers,’ a well-worn diary, filled with lovesick screeds and scrappy vignettes, the pages creased and smeared with ink, with the occasional doodle in the margin.

It’s pure nostalgia, the kind that comforts the singer as much as it haunts her, and one that harks back to the glory days of Australian indie rock. Her wailing rasp on ‘Heavy Feeling,’ in particular, is a reminiscent of Sarah McLeod from The Superjesus.

Finding strength in vulnerability, Simulation Ride feels a little too real at times, but in a way that feels cathartic, allowing Atkinson-Howatt to learn and grow in beautiful and sometimes awkward ways, to finally move on. As she tells The Music since recording the album:

“I’ve changed and grown a lot since then - and with times of feeling extra low or indecisive about what I’m feeling or where I’m going, I can look back on these songs and be like ‘oh, remember when you felt this way? You don’t feel that anymore.’ So writing songs, especially lyrically, that’s a chance to get that anxious fear out of my head and onto the page.’

- Bianca B.

[kutorambles]

So like huh I was thinking about what still keeps me from being as productive as I should be ( these last few days/weeks specifically have been just terrible at getting anything done )  So I was pointing out to myself that once I actually get into drawing something, I tend to enjoy it. Just gotta get it going first, once I have a goal set and just need to get it done, it can happen. So then  the issue would just be with getting inspiration, ideas to work from, getting projects started and all. 

Counterpoint to that : I usually get that thought when I doodle random crap in my sketchbook after failing to get any real work done. Sooo like of course getting into a doodlin’ groove tends to be enjoyable but it doesn’t apply to more serious work : I get to that point precisely after failing to get working on stuff I actually should be doing.  It’s not like I have nothing to do : Got assignments for school, hints of personnal projects I’ve been meaning to dig into, buncha stuff. Blaming procrastination on lack of ideas is juuuust a lazy excuse. 

Not too sure what’s keeping me from working that much then ?  Video games  has  been a big thing lately. ( Always an issue when I’m on break and go back to my parents’ place. Definitely gonna need to start off 2018 with uninstalling every game again. ) Generally would like to work on being offline a bit more this year toooo. Need to be using my computer mostly for work and muuuuch much less for pointless internet browsing.  Could be a first step to learning to focus more. I’m pretty sure lack of focus is the biggest issue in my lack of work, I feel like I haven’t been able to work consistently at full focus on something. Distractons distractions distractions. Then making up more distractions just to avoid working. 

Heck, getting distracted off that rant right now, not sure where I’m going with it. I’m still wasting way too much time, could be and should be a lot more efficient with everything, and really wish I can start improving on that ? Definitely the kind of thing I say literally every year but I still haven’t managed to get to it sooooo.  Then again, maybe the first issue to fix would be pure motivation and getting back to actually wanting to work more often. Don’t know how to do that though so I’ll probably just keep trying to force myself into that.

Maybe in 2018 I’ll manage to make my rants clearer too ! Though ideally I should quit ranting because blah to that it’s always the same shit I keep not fixing because apparently I waste my time ranting instead.

Anyways Spongebob season 4 really has some kind of decrease in quality but I can’t tell how biased I am from everyone else hating it. 

( Everything I said is obnoxious and barely understandable and pointless but I don’t know how to fix it so I guess I’m giving up on this as well whoops ) 

[ivycali-blog]

Musical Ideas From My Notebook Pt.4

Pace: Straight-time, accelerating, decelerating. Combinations: Staggered, Clustered

Shape: Ascend (Types? Stairsteps, Back & Forth, straight, etc.), Descend (Stairsteps, Back & Forth, Straight, etc), Linear Cominations: Staggered, Clustered

The music is a symbolic representation of the message/vocals

Pop songs are more mathematic/artificial than drug-out/speech-like songs.

Build the song up to meet the imagined/intended outcome.

Repetition, solos, & breaks aid absorption.

Aesthetic sounds have lots of texture.

Megan Thee Stallion (Feat. DaBaby) - Cash Shit: “Slurp” sound - highly aesthetic, “lack of concern” vibe

What would you be doing in the situation the song is portraying? Sipping while driving or grinding (Cash Shit) (Song is about grinding, then you get a relaxed “slurp” every now and then to give it a confident/relaxed feel.)

What elements do I want to include? Then how and when do I want them to play out?

Pattern: Comprehendible variation/Texture: Blended/rapid/incomprehendible variation

We learn through association. The more things you can relate/associate with a concept you’re trying to learn, the easier the process will be.

What are your repeating motifs? What do you want (them) to absorb?

Create a cheat sheet of helpful songwriting tips to set at your desk. (Plug n’ go)

What media/influences surrounded you during your youth? (1995-2007) Use aesthetics/associations from those sources.

The lyrical message could be like a dream/fantasy scene. (Erotica lol)

“Does this song sound “insert intended vibe” enough? Create a convincing soundtrack of tones, feelings, & dynamics to frame your “intended vibe” song.

Gunshot=gangster, so overtime the gunshot goes off, you’re reminded what type of song this is. Your brain goes “gangster!”

Write a “_” <-- (vocal attitude overtone) song about “_”.

During writer’s block moments, listen to Post Malone, Travis Scott, or any other artists that keep it simple & to the point.

Post Malone - Rockstar (”I feel just like a rockstar”<-- Main point)

Variety, contrast, rhythm, & melody<--incorporate these wherever you can

It’s all about where the lead melody is in relation to the rhythm melody/bass

Setting=context/vibe component

“Roots in the ground” song: Short motifs (at end specifically) -->Short, playful notes, not emotional

Straight-time beats vs groove beats

Rhythmic simple melody/note vs. complex melody

Complex vocal melody vs. simple vocal melody <--contrast

Where would you hear this song being played at?

Come up with/imagine a prompt melody to start your lyrics. From there it’s not hard.

Get into character when writing. If it’s gangster, dress/act gangster when you write. Method act.

Story (vocals) vs. context (Instrumentals), which is easier to start with (writing)

Songwriting is equivalent to painting mental-pictures.

Start with a sentence about something, then repeat, alter subtle aspects, or elaborate.

Play with small clusters/multiples (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)<--Seconds notes/chords are being held, or number of times within a section/cycle notes are being played in a motif.

1/4=Straight-time, 3/4=Exponential Cycle? (Fibonacci Numbers)

1, 2, 3, 4 or some rhythm in 1/8 time, then the same rhythm in 1/4 time creates more complex rhythms

Mismatching (right-hand) chords with their (left-hand) bass melody is fun

Music is constantly diverging and converging.

Post Malone - Rockstar main vox melody: D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D#, D, D, D, D, D, D#, D, C (Anchor notes used: D#, D, C)

Secondary vocal melody: G, F, G, F, G, F, G, C, A#, A#, A#, A#, A#, A#, G#, G, F, D#/A#, A#, A#, A#, G#, G, F, D# (Anchor notes used: G, F, C, A#, G#, D#)

2-chord songs pull you from where you are (home base) to the feeling they want to put you in.

3-chord songs pull you & throw you in the air to a new feeling

4-chord songs are an emotional dance with multiple arch/climax points

5-chord songs add stair steps to these arch/climax points

The first note/chord/rhythm is your center/baseline emotional place. The song will take you from there. This prompts specific contrast in relation to the starting point.

Start with the showcased instrument - for hip-hop, it’s the bass & 808′

What’s the minimum amount o times you need to create variation? (Example: Sectional changes, key changes, beat changes, etc.)

Music - an ordinary message for an extraordinary frame

Essential component: Change of pace, focus, & emotion

Hum/beatbox something good, then input the lyrics

For a Post Malone/Tank God - Rockstar type song, describe the massive party/scene and shift the focus to different events/scenes within. (Why you got a 12 car garage? Been fucking hoes and popping pillies, don’t give a damn, it was legendary threw a TV out the window of the montage<--all fit the mood & describe different aspects of the rockstar life)

They’re gonna take your word for it, whatever you say/describe in the song.

Even if you’re trying to portray a different character, it’s still coming out of YOU.

When listening to music, you want a specific feeling to move you.

Jump into the song’s portrayed character when singing.

Simple to complex ratio: Amount of time:number of notes/chords

Is the melody accompanying the beat? or vice versa?

For each instrumental/vocal motif, write something that screams the vibe you’re going for.

“Ooh, that feels “_”.

If you can dance, vibe, & laugh, you’re in the correct mindset to write music.

Take the process 1 section at a time.

Create as much non-clashing variety & motion as you can while maintaining some ground.

Vocal rhythm matters more than melody. Even rap has annunciation/phonetic melody.

Rapping flow rate usually sits between 1/8 & 1/16 bpm, or 1/16 & 1/32

All of the chords in a chord progression don’t need to be different. Try repeating previously used chords.

Repetition & accentuation/emphasization

changing a 2-note motif into a 3-note motif at the last note (Lizzo - Truth Hurts “Minnesota Vikings”)

Music is metaphorical. Metaphors make the mind think.

Your audience wants to belong with you, and you want to belong with your audience. Most of your ways are common to all.

Travis Scott - Skyfall: Just frame the song with vocals that would do it justice. Clear emotion & rhythmic variation is what matters most.

Songs are collages/symphonies of separate dynamics and aesthetics diverging & converging.

Bass/rhythm - Environment/ Leads - Subject

Label, or call, something by it’s adjectives. It’s not “weed”, it’s “that sticky sticky”

All of my songs are within “Ivy’s world”. I’m welcoming the audience to my reality.

Put the listener in a certain space.

Pick a topic/flow/melody/rhythm/harmony/etc. & stick with it, then elaborate again and again until satisfied with what has unfolded, then pick a new center of axis.

Tempo - The ground/song’s heartbeat

Art says what words are incapable of saying. To illustrate a point effectively, explain it in doodles, in a song, or in a sketch.

What sounds/noises/instruments rise & fall? Motors, The waves, Voices, Sirens, etc.

Common patterns in our world: Increase/decrease, back & forth, bouncing, swinging, rocking, tapping, etc.

Contrast draws attention: Dawn Golden - Still Life (last note differs from the repeated notes before)

There’s a lot of simple melodies that say what you want to say. You just have to find them. Clear minds can carve through the possibilities quicker.

Miniature motifs can be combined to create more complex motifs.

Ad-libs are like your “crew”. They’re the voices of the people hanging out with the character during the song.

The better a motif/part is, the more you want to present part of the motif, and tease the possibility of completing it.

You gotta be cocky in order to effectively write music.

The key to slipping on another persona is complete and utter External AND Internal) confidence.

Who are you portraying? Who are you speaking to?/Where/who are you vocals being projected to? Drake speaks to his bodyguard/whoever’s next to him most times.

Transitional baselines/chords/notes* (Basslines/chords/notes between the main basslines/chords/notes)

Songs are literally just as important as any audio file or soundbite. Perceived value is placed by our own hearts & minds.

“Give me something I can “_” to!”

[kyanmaaaa]

okay so  i supposse i shouldnt be surprised i had a dream involving yanderes considering how much stuff i read for them

but it was surprising how scary it was! woke up with my heart pounding and stuff

so the beggining of the dream is im at some kind of event with my family and someone pulls me aside to talk abt something, and i follow them to another building cause hey we’re in a semi public place, and then we enter the building and theres just hands on me, picking me up, grabbing my arms and legs and all of a sudden theres way more  people than the one polite person i was talking to before and theyre all talking abt how they’ve finally got me and how mom and dad are gonna be so happy to finally have me in the family and im like woah woah hey woah what the fuck, wiggling and kicking and panicking cause why the fuck are they touching me stop touching me

i break free and ran through the weirdly empty and open house, coming to a two story tall room and falling through the door to the level below, its dirt on the bottom and the rooms featureless besides the unfinished windows and doors up above and everythings black. i crawl and shimmy up the supports and fucking run

the area we’re in is a little less populated so my cell reception isnt great, i try to call 911, and i try again, and again, but i cant get a signal, so i try calling my brother and for some reason that comes through and i just beg him to please come find me i dont know where i am but theres people and-

and then they found me

i dont remember what happens at this part but i guess i stay with that part of the family for a bit with plans to move me to see their mom and dad, everyone else was a child of them or something. i dont remember a punishment but i think i mightve gotten  one for being uncooperative and everything at this points just so much more frightening. everythings more clear once i escape

which involves a lot of running, resting in abandoned places but only where im clearly hidden but theres still plenty of room to maneaver in, always with more than one exit available. its been  a while like this, i havent seen anyone in a long time, still trying to get in contact with my brother, but im starting to get into a groove with keeping away from them, surely they’ve lost track of me by now?

i fuck up one day when im trying to go to the bathroom, im going down the stairs to a middle level with a small kitchen, and the level below has the bathroom, with only one exit on each floor, the stairs. i never make it to the bathroom, i step down that last step to the kitchen and i just hear a voice behind me  and i panic and grab them, squeezing around their mouth (a cats mouth?) before they can say more, choking them, its hard to breath to see to think but i try to bash their catlike head on a table, to keep them quiet maybe no one else has seen me yet if i can just knock them out but i CANT because i hate them im scared but i never never want to hurt anyone so each time i try to slam their head into the counter its just not hard enough and im more upset now, absolutely not thinking clearly as i try to shove them into the freezer where they clearly wont fit but hey maybe if it was old enough they’d be trapped in there (insulated and silencecd) for long enough to get me out

but someone comes down the stairs again and i break. apologizing, sobbing, apologizing, barely able to breath and speak through the stutters of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, because i dont want to go back I don’t want to be hurt again but im powerless and im sorry

im captured, they take a moment to assess the room, stare at their dizzied companion as i cower behind the support beams in the strange room

and then im at their mom and dads house, talking to a puppy that calls me dad. it doesnt understand that im not its father. At least the dog calls me dad, everyone else has been misgendering me the whole time. ive been given a new name, a pets name, and its too feminine, demeaning and im mad. so i tell the puppy lets have some fun and i show it how to absolutely destroy the mansion we’re in, knocking shit off tables, knocking over tables, just mayhem, general mayhem and destruction

when the butler comes im chastized, threatened, and the puppy stands on its hind legs and instead of being blamed with me it joins in, talking completely differently than before and callng me such a disgrace. i dont want the puppy to get in trouble i did start it after all, but it hurts to be alone, i thought the weird puppy was at least my friend and equal in this

after my punishment im finally introducted to the mom and dad of the family, theyre both youngerish, middle 30s at the latest, and kinda boring looking tbh in how conventially attractive they are. they examine me, talking as if im not there and how happy they are to finally have their pet, i bite my tongue and keep quiet.

im  not sure what starts this but theyre unhappy, and i hate them and im scared of them, but i dont want them to be unhappy im so tired of everything being unhappy, so i muster up my best fake peppy voice and ask if we can play dress up.

they have so many beautiful dresses! and accessories! and a pretty dollhouse backdrop where the dad tells me how pretty i am as i smile and follow directions for each pose as he takes pictures with his professional camera, my dress is huge and flows and its poofy and ruffled in PINK and momentarily im distracted from my situation by just how magical it feels, eating in the slim bits of affection im granted with each compliment and soft eyes

the mom looks over the picture roll with him over which pictures should go up on the wall, or perhaps in a fancy display like the one behind her, showing a younger picture of herself before saddening, commenting on how (she says the wrong name, the pets name, the one thats clearly not mine) is so much more beautiful than her, how shes past her prime, and the mood sullies

i jump in, telling her how im not more beautiful, im just more magical! (fake peppy voice fake peppy voice please dont be unhappy) and she’d be just the same if she’d join me in being a fairy princess (i doodle long flowing fairy like golden eyebrows on her portrait with my scepter) and she laughs and smiles

and then i woke up

im conflicted on this dream cause i was really, really fucking freaked out when i woke up, i mean kidnapping, some forgotten pain just outside of my memory, the loneliness, just getting touched with no control over and over again, the powerlessness, the fear, and the strong need not for approval but just some sort of stability even if i have to play the game with the wrong far far too feminine name

[yerbevan]

It doesn’t bother me...

alright...a big, whopping, comprehensive, no-holds-barred, in your face, out of your face, steal your face, to the left and right of your face, review...my very first! it's a thing! pardon my writerly predilections...i'm not into sentencing right now...and put your gavel away...that too

watch out...here we go!

my impressions of the ride, start to finish:

bass a little low in the mix during first four minutes, but corrected soon enough

vocals a little too prominent for my taste, but there is an upside: you can hear all the lyrics very clearly

this is a show that benefits from somewhat aggressive voluming, if it doesn't wake the neighbors

the aural picture shows some tweaking and improvement along about track three, which was not unusual at dead shows, drums and percussion benefitting notably

the sound reveals characteristics of the hall itself, it doesn't bother me

we're sliding into a nice groove here in Big River...clearly the band is in it all the way tonite, going for broke, not holding back, and ready to jam...the overall mix more cohesive

it's The Grateful Dead! let's not forget why we're here, campers...can't we have a little fun tonite? i'm into it...it's all coming together...onward and upward!

Bigfoot County is nigh, Vista Cruiser on...pass that over here, friend...Jerry the Singer is having a good night...singing like he means it, friends!

yer New Minglewood...the crowd is way into it, picking up on the energy...Bob delivering a nuanced vocal as well...remember those nites when the boys challenged each other, upped the ante? believe it, friends

Big Railroad rolling into the station, all aboard...the vocal amplificationism is tightening up, more presence, less reverb...instrumental amplificationism likewise...vocals tweaked down a bit, but still refreshingly clear

Who says this band can't Rock & Roll? not me...one a them not sit in the chair shows

Looks Like Rain is not usually one of my favourites, but this one has that little extra something that makes you sit up and take notice...the tempo a little more brisk than i recall from the shows i seen

Deal is one of my favourites...always ready for a good Deal...Jerry is ready for this one...i see the stars and moon coming out, friends! alright, all the bugs are out...set too here we come...an outrageous, exceptional, and totally fantabulous Deal! and it's only the first set, friends!

gonna have a leisurely, half-hour break, maybe get a beer, go out and chat with the people about the first set...okay with you? thanks...we're good

and umm...everybody here seen a real, live dead show, right? pardon me...just asking...you don't have to show me no I.D...forget i even brought it up

so there was two reasons i had to get this one: had to hear the 'Wang Dang Doodle', and 'Help/Slip/Frank'. i want anything that has help slip on it. and it's a good one. already out in deep jazz space...Jerry is in top form tonite as an instrumentalist

Franklin's Tower, the 14-minute version...i'm in Dead Heaven...done gone and went...Jerry is putting something unique into this one...tonite only...Brent is on it here, too...man, the energy just went up a notch, as if that was even possible! the Garcia instrumentalism tour-de-force continues...very interesting approach to the close of Franklin's Tower...tonite only

Estimated...always a pleasure, as everyone knows, got real funk in it and all over it...and under it and to the side...there's the Bob Dead and the Jerry Dead...providing alternate vistas, and welcome variety...about halfway through and i don't want this show to end...and it doesn't have to end...you start over and take it from the top...or just do the second set...or move on to that other show you haven't checked out yet...whatever you want! i mean it's freedom!

Eyes of the World...another iffy proposition for me...sometimes great, sometimes the vocals are a little too tough for that particular nite...good...i'll take this one...especially for more of Jerry's jazzy instrumental breaks

And there's the brief but necessary fill from an audience tape...alright, no problem...it's an exceptional show, so we're good

Drums into Space...most excellent and interesting...Space is in a minor key, fairly unusual...Bob's picking on this Space is most excellent...in his own way, Bob is as advanced an instrumentalist as Jerry...two different lead guitarists, two different guitarism flavours...blended and complimentary tho: you wouldn't expect anything less from The Grateful Dead, Grateful Dead, or even the Dead...it's all good

And now Space into Throwing Stones...you didn't see that every nite...all of our singers in good shape, tonite...more of Bob's distinctive Dead Funk

into Goin' Down the Road...you didn't see that every nite either...so now Jerry, the maestro, slows it down for Black Peter...all kinds of originalness going on tonite...another inspired Jerry guitar break...does it get any better? tearing it up on the vocals, too...excellent and gorgeous ensemble singing on this Black Peter...another one for the history books

Many of these aural differences are about various source tapes, i think, more so than i initially thought...the high-energy performance is why we're all here right now, tho...glad i got a ticket for this one, you know

and Sunshine Daydream rolls on in...more Rock & Roll for us campers...and i say again, play this one as loud as you can...and i don't often say that about Dead show recordings...and Sugar Magnolia comes to a crashing halt...now Bob Dylan's 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue'

now the Vista Cruiser returns to earth for a soft landing, no encore...it was worth the trip