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thepageofhopes · 3 years

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Undertale Multiverse Classpects Part 1/??

It’s inevitable once I get super into something that I do this.

I will most likely do more characters but for now I started with just some of the biggest characters of the multiverse/underverse specifically.

Explanations will be under the cut. Long, long, explanations. (Almost 3k words!)

Error: Bard of Time Ink: Rogue of Space Nightmare: Knight of Doom Dream: Page of Life Cross: Witch of Blood XChara: Prince of Heart XGaster: Thief of Light

Most of this was done using the theories of 0pacfica, whose amazing classpect theory posts can be found on Ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960270

Though this was also cross referenced with bladekindeyewear’s older theories (particularly on the roles of the classes and active/passive pairs) and a sprinkling of the extended zodiac.

So this is another classpect where it’s actually easier to do in pairs for a lot of the characters due to how intertwined they are.

Error: Bard of Time

Ink: Rogue of Space

When starting with these two, it really was a giant debate between me and my friends about whether Ink and Error were time and space or hope and rage. It was very hard to move away from Hope/Rage when it represents unchecked creation and destruction which...is pretty much the entire backbone of underverse, but after lots of back and forth we found Time and Space fit better overall.

It’s useful to think of Space as Beginnings and Time as Endings. Ultimately what Ink does is facilitate a bunch of new beginnings. Ink is also all about the growth of the multiverse, which is the closest analogue we really have to Skaia. Hope may be creation, but it is creation as counter to the greater narrative, and often counter to Skaia and the reproduction of the universe. On the flip side, Rage, while being destruction, is generally destruction of anything non-fundamental. Error, by contrast, does not care what is being destroyed. His goal is ultimately the end to the multiverse itself; the end of the narrative. Time and Space are also the main building blocks of the universe and without them sessions become void. Ink and Error ultimately represent the core of the multiverse and are also key in most of the big multiverse spanning stories. As well, there’s really no escaping how similar Error and Caliborn act in both personality and actions.

Finally, looking at the extended zodiac, even their personalities fit decently well, though mostly Ink and Space. While classpect is actually much more about narrative arcs and roles than personalities, it’s still useful to look at the most personality based descriptions of the extended zodiac. Space has the description ‘They are patient, masters of the art of 'wait-and-see', and are inclined to take things as they come. That isn't to say that they're pushovers or willing to let injustice lie-they just choose their battles wisely, understanding that sometimes you have to let something burn to the ground in order to build it back better and stronger than before. To this effect, they tend to be innovators, concerned with creation and redemption.‘ and if that doesn’t describe Ink in underverse at least, then nothing else does. Time is a little less fitting personality wise for Error, but these few bits are pertinent: ‘Their lives are often marked by struggle, not so much because fate has it in for them, but because they are fundamentally incapable of just accepting things as they come.’ ‘At their worst they are ruthless, defensive, and impulsive.‘

So now that Aspect is out of the way, I can explain classes. Let’s start with the easy one first. There’s no way we could have Error as anything other than a destroyer class, so Bard or Prince had to be one of the titles. Then from there it comes down to whether Error is active or passive. While it may be easy to say ‘well he actively destroys things’ it’s useful to remember someone's powers can look very similar even if active or passive. My go to for this is Roxy who despite being a passive void class, ultimately can still actively steal nothingness from concepts.

And I have to ask- does Error really actively use his aspect? Because I don’t think so. There’s a popular fan concept of Error as a ‘Forced god of Destruction’ that I think really cements this. Time as an aspect tends to also represent Fate, and if there’s a character who has been actively fucked over by Fate, it’s Error. Even from his time as Genos, Error has been the butt monkey of terrible circumstances. 0pacifica talks about ‘Student’ classes (Thieves, Seers, and Bards) as one where the aspect changes the player, and if that doesn’t describe Error just.

Also it gives Error a codpiece and isn’t that just fucking perfect.

So onto the harder class to explain- Ink being a Rogue. Unlike the Destroyer class, there’s no ‘Creator’ class to nicely fit Ink into (although some suspect that the Heal class of Sylph and most likely Maid class can double as both Heal and Create) but even then, Ink doesn’t really actively create. Rather he tends to try and inspire creators to create. For Ink it made more sense to use 0pacifica’s chart to lower down the class, and then make sure the powers still fit from there.

To start with, there’s no way Ink is anything but a mutualist class. Both Ink and the multiverse benefit from Ink’s role in the multiverse. But even more telling that Ink is a mutualist class is the line in the flowchart ‘The story is not complete until I have accomplished what I have set out to do or found another way to satisfy my initial impulse.’ From the start of Underverse at least to now (though I also suspect to the end of Underverse) the story has been driven by Ink’s actions and motivations. There wouldn’t be a story without him, for good or ill.

From there using the chart, it was easy to lower it down to Rogue or Knight. Ink really isn’t changed or used by their aspect, unlike Error. So it really comes down to does Ink use his aspect or change his aspect. From here I really like 0pacifica’s one sentence descriptions. Rogue is ‘I change my aspect to a more useful form’ while Knight is ‘I use my aspect like a tool’. Eventually we decided on Rogue because Ink doesn’t really actively use his aspect- he’s much more about inspiration- allowing others to steal his ideas, if you will ;P. He ultimately changes other beginnings in service both to the multiverse and himself- squeezing them for paint so he can keep feeling.

Also Rogue just kind of fits Ink’s aesthetic with that cute little bandit mask

What’s really cool is these two classes are also on opposite ends of the ‘Reinvent/Change’ segment of the class chart.

Hopefully this is the longest segment..

Nightmare: Knight of Doom

Dream: Page of Life

Here’s another pair we really had to decide between Hope/Rage for and Doom/Life. But honestly there wasn’t actually a lot of debate. If Doom is Stasis and Inertia, then that fits Nightmare’s ultimate goal to a T. If Nightmare gets his way, the entire multiverse will be plunged into negativity, and with no contrast, everything would just be mired in the same. In contrast to both Nightmare and in particular, Ink, Dream is all about growth and making things better. Joku has specifically stated that Dream and Ink had a falling out due to this- Dream doesn’t care about creator intentions or their story. If there is someone suffering, Dream wants to fix it.

Another way these two fit is in something 0pacifica observes regarding Doom and Life players- Life players come from ‘the top of the pile’ with every advantage behind them, while Doom players come from the ‘bottom of the heap’ with everything working against them. From their beginnings Dream has always been put upon a pedestal, with the love and adoration of the villagers surrounding them, while Nightmare was always hated, always considered as a problem before he has any type of sway over negativity. In actuality, they were born equal, but the circumstances of which side they happened to represent tilted them in their respective directions.

For the extended zodiac, since Nightmare is such a terrible person, even more so than Error in a lot of ways, means that it’s not as useful. The descriptions ar emeant for people to identify with after all, and no one is gonna self-identify with being told they are a monster. There is a bit of the extended zodiac we can use though, and that’s Nightmare as a commiserator. In underverse he gains Cross’s trust by empathizing (in a way) with his negativity, and he surrounds himself with crew that have been in as bad circumstances as he has been. Life however, has a great section that fits Dream perfectly: ‘ Those bound to the aspect of Life are the universe's healers. They are concerned with the betterment of themselves and those around them, as well as the onward march of positive progress. Deeply empathetic, they have an intuitive understanding of other's suffering and the best way of righting those wrongs.’

When looking at classes, we considered the Commensalist sections for both Dream and Nightmare for a while. But we ultimately decided against that specifically with the line that ‘my accomplishments and failings are purviews of the fringes of the narrative’ which just can’t be true for two beings so fundamental to the multiverse. Indeed, you’ll actually see none of the characters in this post fall under this side specifically because I started with the most ‘important’ characters. We ultimately decided on mutualist for Nightmare- despite his ‘bottom of the heap’ status, he ultimately tends to take control of the narrative, and much of underverse and even a lot of fan works are centered around his actions, much like Ink. Dream, by contrast, is constantly fighting an uphill battle and for most of underverse is more a pawn than any true figure of movement in the story. Parasitic fits quite well for poor Dream who no matter what ending of Joku’s story you go by, always dies.

There really is no other character who quite wields their aspect and powers to their advantage like Nightmare. I really can’t find a lot to add here, it was a pretty unambiguous choice and had very little debate in our classpect talk. All his manipulations are steeped in death and decay and well, negativity, all which fall under Doom. Knight is theorized to be the active Exploit class which fits nicely into 0pacifica’s class descriptions. So, for Dream, looking under parasitism, Dream doesn’t really change his aspect, he’s pretty much defined by Life. This lowered it down to Prince and Page. Dream, unlike Nightmare, isn’t really an active manipulator of his aspect and of his positivity. It’s more a part of him, and thus Page, who in the flowchart literally uses the line ‘I am defined by my aspect’ seemed to be the perfect fit.

Like Ink and Error, these two are also opposites on the ‘manifest’ side of classes, and even better, Knight is the active Exploit class while Page is the passive exploit class.

Thank god this section was actually shorter

Cross: Witch of Blood

XChara: Prince of Heart

While these two characters aren’t opposites in aspect or class, it’s useful to talk about both of these two at once both because of how closely they are tied together, but also because how similar their goals and narrative journeys are in general.

Basically with aspect it came down to Blood and Heart for both of them. The more material aspects really have nothing to do with either of them, both of them are much more focused on narrative meaning. Light/Void is out of the question as when it comes down to it, through all their posturing, they ultimately are much more focused on themselves than any kind of big picture or big over-arching questions on the nature of reality. This also phases out Mind for both of them. And finally, this sentence on Breath is about as anti Cross/XChara as it comes: ‘what’s meaningful and important is discovering something new, expanding that perspective, broadening the meaning-horizon and rising above the mere material of the world until ‘tradition’ is a speck of dust on a marble’.

Ultimately we went with Blood for Cross over Heart. Cross is primarily motivated by the past in a way XChara really isn’t. Hell, one of the main reasons Cross decided to fight against Frisk and XChara in Timeline X was because the timeline they were currently in was a happy place for him and the rest of the monsters. Cross is also shown to utilize bonds- it’s a vision of Cross that stops XChara in his fight against Swap/Blue. XChara, on the other hand, is much more focused on the idea of control and being in control, because they know what’s best better than anyone else. Heart is appropriately labeled as ‘egoism’ in 0pacifica’s chart and if there’s one thing XChara has, it’s an ego. There’s also the line ‘Heart is the reading into and reading out of, the situating of what’s been read in the personal and the familiar, the reshaping and reinterpreting of the text outside of the author’s hands.’ If we see XGaster as an author, then what better describe’s XChara’s role?

Honestly the extended zodiac isn’t really great for these two, once again due to the fact they are largely negative and corrupted characters. Most of what’s there isn’t truly yet in the text but implied in the opening to Underverse Season 2 (Cross being a leader through inspiration) or something that I’ve basically already covered (Heart being self-obsessed). This is long enough already so lets just move on.

There’s no way either of them are anything other than a parasitic class. ‘I could beat myself bloody against the bars of the narrative and still get no closer to the form of success I personally desire’ describes both of their experiences in XTale and Season 1 perfectly. (’All my efforts were for nothing..’) As well, for how much these characters were corrupted and damaged throughout the course of Underverse, what changed them was much more outside forces than anything having to do with their aspect- they both tend to own their aspect.

XChara is pretty definitively a Prince- He is incredibly talented at utilizing his own personal potential and even his own ego to advance his own agenda, even as it actively fucks him over. And how do his overwrite powers manifest? A complete domination of others personalities and identity. He destroys others identities and personal narratives. Cross is a tough one because most of what we’ve seen of his powers and actions have been actively manipulated by XChara whose very aspect dominates identity. But one thing that we very much see in Underverse is how Cross actively forces other people to team up and form bonds to stop him. This forwards the narrative while being actively detrimental to Cross himself. And finally, one of the last moments we see with the new Cross at the end of season 1 is him actively changing his bond/deal with Nightmare to save Dream, which gives Dream the determination and ability to escape to the Omega Timeline with the other survivors. Unfortunately most of what is in the actual text isn’t super concrete but there is enough foreshadowing and implications of where Cross’s character is going to go that Witch just ‘feels’ like the right fit.

Whew I was afraid this was somehow going to be as long/longer than the first segment

XGaster: Thief of Light

This one should hopefully be fairly short as if there was a classpect title there was the least amount of debate and back and forth on, XGaster was it.

There’s no way XGaster isn’t Light. The literal second I saw the sentence of Light that says ‘There is one answer’ there was no way he could be anything else. XGaster’s entire storyline is about finding/creating the one true perfect universe. Essentially, in classpect and narrative terms, his entire narrative is about the Search for truth and meaning. Which is literally the sentence used to describe Light in 0pacifica’s writeup.

In the interest of wrapping. this. shit. up. I’m just gonna post this section from the Light part of the extended zodiac. It feels fairly self explanatory. ‘The Light-bound will go after knowledge with a fierce intensity that others may find distasteful. They aren't overly concerned with laws or norms, either. They often take rules as simple suggestions, instead searching for loopholes or work-arounds.’

Class is where I will probably actually have to explain a little more. I don’t think mutualist is anything I really need to extensively justify- the narrative of Underverse bends to accommodate the goals of Ink and XGaster, basically everything I said about Ink also works with XGaster with how closely they are tied.

The fundamental shift of XGaster’s narrative arc and even personality is all based around knowledge. He learns from Ink that other multiverses exist and in that instant it sets him on a new path. Thieves are all about acquiring more of their aspect to change and benefit themselves, and XGaster literally gathers ideas and knowledge from other universes to create and enrich his own. I know it’s cheeky to not have just one but two canon titles, but they undeniably fit.

Also he sure does have all the irons in the fire *shot*

Aaaaaaaaaaand we’re done! Look how fast that last segment went.

#undertale #utmv #underverse #homestuck #undertale multiverse

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themurphyzone · 3 years

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Nova Ch 11

AN: This is gonna be the last of the set-up chapters. The story will start snowballing (see what I did there? Heehee) from the next chapter on.

This chapter includes an art piece I requested from the talented @plutonis, and I’m so glad I can finally show this off because it contains some very gorgeous colors.

AO3 Link

Ch 11: Spectrum

Terran Date 2015.4.28

Yesterday, Pinky showed me one of his favorite pieces of media to thank me for the story of Heikro var Silda, even though he cried for fifteen minutes because of the tragic ending. While indeed sad, I’m proud to say I remained steadfast and controlled my emotions upon revisiting the story. And while I told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted and I acquiesced to his demands.

That’s how Pinky introduced me to The Lion King. Once again, I remained strong even when the emotional distress threatened to override my logical mind. It was...rather difficult, I’ll admit. We watched the sequel afterward, and though I’ve created five different charts that list the plot points in order, I cannot come up with a satisfactory sequence of events that connects both movies into a cohesive narrative.

Moving onto real life matters...Pinky seems to be under the impression that I will be a permanent resident of the lab.

Celestial bodies above, what use is my intelligence if I’m trapped among heathen, dimwitted fools who can’t tell the difference between left and right! I refuse to be a lab rat, made to do the so-called dominant species’ bidding. Snowball and I shall be taking over this planet and progressing their backwards society far beyond their wildest dreams! That’s what we came here for, and I will not be sidetracked again.

As for Pinky...well, his imagination can make up some personalities for his inanimate object friends once I leave. He doesn’t have any shortage of those. The newest addition to the crew is an eraser nub with the moniker of ‘Gummy’.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

Brain saved the new transmission to an encrypted, password-protected file. None of the scientists were technical experts, so the odds of discovery were miniscule or nonexistent. He only had five audio files in total, a meager amount compared to the hundreds of transmissions he’d made back on New Selene. The pointer hovered over the Delete All button. He didn’t have a reason to keep making transmissions when he was leaving the lab behind in just a few days.

Still, he hesitated.

Maybe he could leave it as a memento for Pinky. But even a basic level of encryption and case-sensitive password would remain far beyond Pinky’s capabilities.

Perhaps it was best to leave the issue for another night.

He logged off the computer and joined Pinky, who’d surrounded himself with Gummy and the rest of his inanimate object friends as he played a board game called Monopoly. Though Brain had looked up the rules and goals of the game during his online session out of curiosity, he didn’t really understand the appeal or mass marketability of such an unbalanced game.

Although, given the number of different versions of Monopoly out there, creating and selling his own version of the game with the title of Brainopoly could prove to be a viable plan.

Pinky was playing as if there were four players and not just a free-for-all against a nickel, button, and eraser. It became disturbingly obvious that Pinky was either overly generous or just woefully terrible at mental math, because he continually doled out the wrong amount of money from the bank or his own meager cash pile.

And Pinky was far better off if Brain cut in now, because there was no chance that anyone else was catching up to Gummy, who owned the most lucrative properties and had the largest amount of money.

He had to stop anthropomorphizing these objects. He was starting to think like Pinky, and that was an extremely distressing thought.

“You’re losing to an eraser,” Brain said. Pinky only had a few fives in currency, and the three properties he owned were all flipped over and mortgaged.

“Yeah, Gummy’s just very good at this game! Narf!” Pinky said as he rolled the dice for Mr. Button. “It’s so nice of him to let us sleep in his Marvin Garden Apartments though. Otherwise we’d be homeless!”

“Nice indeed,” Brain replied. For his peace of mind, he didn’t dare press for more details.

Pinky threw the dice, then moved the bucket token seven spaces, landing on the Luxury Tax space. “That’ll be seventy-five dollars, Mr. Button,” Pinky said as he gathered the money, which only totaled sixty. And Mr. Button’s four properties were all mortgaged. Pinky realized this too. “Oh...you don’t have enough. Poit.”

Any normal player would’ve tossed in the towel right there, but Pinky wasn’t a conventional player by any means. He frowned, scratched his head, then picked up his own pile of fives and tossed them onto the sixty, bringing the amount to seventy-five, with two leftover fives for Mr. Button.

“You can have that, Mr. Button!” Pinky chirped as he dumped the luxury tax money in the middle of the board. “With a little more for the bus!”

Pinky had completely knocked himself out of the game.

This was supposed to be an extremely competitive game for families and seasoned professionals, right? Though the rules of Monopoly appeared confusing and controversial to most players, he was certain that nobody would willingly lose with such a reckless method.

Well...maybe it was just a fluke. Pinky was only playing against himself, so if he wanted to give up the money to something he was making the decisions for, that was his choice.

Besides, he couldn’t watch this game much longer.

“I’ll be your next opponent,” Brain announced. He’d never played before, but the basics seemed simple enough. And the math involved was basic arithmetic he could do in his sleep. “Reset the board at once, Pinky.”

Pinky’s tail wagged as he gathered up the houses and hotels and tossed them back into the box, then settled down as he skillfully shuffled the Community Chest and Chance cards. From the way he hummed and twirled around, an outsider could easily mistake Brain for a playmate instead of an opponent.

Brain quickly read over the instruction sheet, then divided the game currency into a starting amount for himself, Pinky, and the bank.

“Can I be in charge of the property cards, Brain?” Pinky asked as he organized them by color.

“Yes, but I shall handle all other banker duties,” Brain said. “Listen closely, Pinky. I’ve looked up stories about Monopoly games going on for a long time with no definitive winner, so we’ll stop the game when one of us runs out of money, or if chance has favored you or I enough that we can place a hotel on the board.”

“Chance always has a problem with favoritism,” Pinky said as he moved the horse token to the Go space. Indeed, chance hasn’t always favored members of either of their species, but it could stand to be more merciful during a board game. He hugged the horse token to his chest. “Anyways, Pharfigtwoton is always my choice! What’s yours?”

Brain didn’t understand how anyone in their right mind would want to play as a wheelbarrow or bucket, and the only pieces that interested him at all were the ones that resembled modes of Terran transportation. In the end, he chose the battleship.

He was tempted to call it the Conquistador Two, but he didn’t want to follow the trend of naming random objects.

“Good one!” Pinky said as he pushed the ship over to the horse token. “A gorgeous ship like this needs a name...so I hereby dub thee Battley McBattleface!”

“We’re calling it the Conquistador Two, and that’s final,” Brain snapped.

“The Conquesodor Two,” Pinky agreed.

They tossed the dice to decide turn order, and Pinky won that battle easily since Brain had the misfortune to roll double ones.

On his first turn, Pinky managed to land on St. Charles Place with a high roll. He happily shelled out the money required to buy the property. “I’m putting a nice dog park here!” he declared, placing the unused dog token in the magenta space above the property. “Now Pharfigtwoton can give rides to all the puppies!”

Brain didn’t know if Monopoly required players to create their own storyline, but it certainly made the game more interesting and baffling at the same time. He rolled the dice, sighing when he could only advance to Reading Railroad.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a trend for Pinky to receive high rolls while he was stuck in the first half of the board.

But he quickly changed his mind once he paid up for Reading Railroad and read through the card information. Just like any real life war or corporate strategy, the key to his victory would lie in controlling the flow of transportation and goods!

Pinky landed on New York on his next turn, rambling about taking all the puppies to New York for a double decker bus tour of the city as he slid a stack of bills to Brain. Brain sighed and tossed an extra twenty bill back at Pinky. He wished Pinky would pay more attention to adding properly than the make-believe puppies.

Brain rolled the dice and moved his battleship to Virginia, claiming the property so Pinky couldn’t control one-fourth of the board this early in the game.

“Brain, can I have a house?” Pinky asked as he drew a Community Chest card. He read through the card and grinned. “Awww, I got second in a beauty pageant! Thank you, everyone! It’s such an honor! Oh, and it says I also won ten dollars.”

“You don’t meet the conditions required for a house, Pinky,” Brain said, giving Pinky a ten. He didn’t care about the fake beauty pageant, just that money was either gained or lost depending on luck of the draw.

“Oh, I’ll keep them off the board,” Pinky promised. “I just want a house for Terry to live in.”

He held up the dog token, who was now apparently called Terry.

“Fine, but don’t mix your ridiculous fantasies with the board,” Brain sighed and tossed a green house at Pinky, which smacked him in the head when he didn’t catch it in time. Pinky laughed it off and coaxed Terry to stand next to the house.

Houses and hotels. His Internet searches on the Clarkes led to tons of websites on the Terran real estate market and hotel industry.

Which reminded Brain that he hadn’t shared his research into the Clarkes with Pinky yet. There hadn’t been enough time during the day, where the incompetent scientists poked and prodded them. And in Brain’s case, tried to figure out where the antennae came from.

Their hypotheses, and he was being exceedingly generous when he described their speculation and conspiracy theories as hypotheses, amounted to claiming a Terran mouse and insect had reproduced together.

“I’ve brushed up on the Clarkes so we can properly impersonate them at the party. According to-scrik!” Brain hissed under his breath when he landed on New York and had to pay Pinky.

“Sixteen please!” Pinky chirped. “All proceeds will go to buying toys and treats for good dogs in need!”

Brain grudgingly gave up the sixteen. Probability was not on his side tonight. “As I was saying before cruel fate reared its ugly head, the man I shall impersonate, Anthony Clarke, is an esteemed real estate and luxury hotel mogul, with a net worth in the billions. His success is rooted in savvy, ruthless business against competitors. It appears that he and Lamont are old college acquaintances, which we can spin to our advantage. And...yes! B&O Railroad!”

He claimed the B&O Railroad for himself, and Pinky wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t ride on the Body Odor Railroad even if you pay me in cheese,” he said.

Brain rolled his eyes. “The temptation for cheese is too powerful for your empty mind and bottomless stomach.”

“You’re right, Brain. It’s too yummy.” Pinky licked his lips. “So does that make me Mrs. Zoey Clarke then? Unless he divorced her already. I haven’t kept up with them in a while.” The butler on the phone had made a similar comment, thoroughly expecting ‘Mr. Clarke’ to divorce his spouse by the end of the week.

“So you’re aware of the Clarkes,” Brain said. He rolled the dice, and chance immediately sentenced him to jail. He had to push his battleship all the way to the jail space.

But all of this divorcing nonsense was trivial to his goals. Hardly worth a footnote.

The objective was to infiltrate the party, mingle with the guests to throw off suspicion, then steal the military weapon and take over the world, not involve himself in a Terran’s relationship drama.

“Ooh, tough.” Pinky clicked his tongue in sympathy as he bought Waterworks. “But everyone knows who the Clarkes are. Didn’t you see anything about all those divorces when you looked them up?”

“I’m more interested in his business ventures than his messy personal life,” Brain replied. “All this talk about divorce is simply incidental. But now I digress. Escaping jail so I may continue my conquering campaign is of utmost priority.”

“Doubles! Doubles!” Pinky chanted as Brain threw the dice. A two and three faced up, but no doubles. Pinky deflated, but only for a moment. Then he picked up a fifty. “Here, Brain. I’ll bail you out.”

From Brain’s brief skim over the rules, he didn’t recall a single one that allowed players to bail each other out of jail. He wanted to refuse and tell Pinky to focus on winning for himself, but obtaining Pennsylvania Railroad, which he’d missed the first time he’d passed through this section of the board, was just too tempting.

Brain took the fifty from Pinky, put it in the bank, then moved his battleship out of jail and used his draining resources to buy Pennsylvania Railroad. Only afterward did he realize that he’d been steadily losing money every turn and hadn’t gained anything since the beginning of the game.

Contrast to Pinky, who rolled a twelve and skipped over the last fourth of the board, placing him squarely on the Go space and guaranteeing himself a free two hundred. Then he rolled a low number and bought Mediterranean.

A poor investment, given that it was hardly worth anything. But Pinky didn’t think so.

And he wouldn’t stop cooking up new fantasies either. “Now we can host a beach jubilee for your welcome home from jail party! With hot dogs and beach balls and those big umbrellas and-”

Brain lobbed the dice at Pinky so he’d quiet down and allow Brain to formulate a strategy in peace.

Perhaps a pass around the board without purchasing anything would be necessary. He had to rebuild his financial resources again. The downside was that Pinky could potentially take the spaces for himself, but it was entirely possible that he’d miss some of the open spaces too.

So he did just that, finally lucking out when a Community Chest card sent Pinky to Reading Railroad.

But Pinky was incapable of keeping his mouth shut, and soon he was back on the topic of the infamous Clarke divorces.

“-so I think Zoey is number eleven, and I know they all blend together, so when I confuse them I just remember divorce, beheaded, died, divorce, beheaded, survived!”

Brain stared at Pinky, praying to all the ancient Selenian gods nobody believed in anymore that Snowball didn’t have him take the identity of a murderer.

“Oh wait no, no...that’s King Henry, not Clarke. Must’ve mixed them up, poit. Sorry.”

Brain threw another green house at Pinky, nailing him in the shoulder. Pinky yelped, but once he realized he had another house he immediately thanked Brain because that meant Terry’s friend could move next door.

Since there was little point to dissuading Pinky entirely, Brain focused on his game strategy instead.

It was mostly repetition anyway. Roll dice, move piece, board event, repeat. Perhaps it would be considered tedious and monotonous, but the storylines Pinky improvised were what truly made it fascinating, even though Brain could only follow about half of it since Pinky created plotholes within the fantastical yet mundane place named Monopoly City faster than the speed of light.

According to Pinky, he and his sister co-ran an enormous pet supply shop attached to a humane animal shelter next door to the dog park. Meanwhile, Brain was conductor of a magical train and seeking the mayorship because the corrupt mayor was involved with an evil cigarette corporation who wanted to diabolically sell their products to innocent children.

And while Pinky certainly had a knack for improvisation, the matter at hand was that Brain couldn’t resist buying Boardwalk, but he’d used up a third of his money and Pinky wasn’t landing there to make up for the deficit. But Brain also had Baltic, the least valuable property, and Pinky had Park Place, which Brain desperately needed since neither of them had houses on the board yet.

This wasn’t going to be a fair trade for Pinky, but it was the best chance Brain had to etch out a victory. He was going for it.

“Park for Baltic so we can finally build some residences,” Brain said, sliding the card over to Pinky.

And to his surprise, Pinky jumped at the opportunity. “Sure, Brain! If you’ll trade me Oriental for Marvin Gardens. We’re gonna open a Chinatown district!”

He’d be giving Pinky control of the first quarter of the board, but the allure of the most expensive properties was far too tempting to pass up.

They swapped properties, then paused the game to set up their houses. Brain didn’t have enough money to buy houses for all his properties, so he set two houses on Boardwalk and hoped he could deal a staggering blow to Pinky’s finances. And even this decision was costly, for he only had $180 left.

Pinky set four houses on Baltic and clapped his hands together. “They’re beach houses,” he explained, and didn’t bother putting houses on the rest of his properties even though he could afford it.

Brain kept his mouth shut. Best not to give Pinky ideas. So he rolled the dice and got doubles.

Luxury Tax.

Scrik.

Now he was down to $105. But he’d pass Go on his next turn, so he could obtain an extra two hundred and hopefully skip this portion of the board.

Then he landed on Baltic.

He slowly looked at Pinky, and Brain couldn’t tell if Pinky was being perfectly innocent or just very, very good at pretending to be perfectly innocent. “That’ll be $320 please,” Pinky said.

Including the two hundred from passing Go, he’d only have a grand total of $305.

And according to the conditions he’d set, he’d lost the game through losing all his money.

“Can’t pay it,” Brain sighed. “Congratulations, Pinky. You’ve bested me.”

Pinky giggled and threw his play money in the air in celebration. “Aw, thanks for playing with me! I’ve never played Monopoly with anyone before. Never been able to get the board to Pharfignewton’s stable without the play money flying all over the street. It took me a long time to pick it all up. We should definitely do this again, Brain! Troz!”

But there wouldn’t be a next time. No matter how much he wanted to be victorious in another match against Pinky.

“Yes, we should,” Brain forced out, willing his racing heart to calm down so he wasn’t caught in his lie.

Pinky beamed, and Brain only wished it wasn’t so difficult to explain.

o-o-o-o-o

Terran Date 4.29.2015

Tonight, we shall seek appropriate outfits for the masquerade ball. I have been informed that my jumpsuit is not considered formal attire and that we will need to shop for proper clothing. However, I will be bringing my jumpsuit along since I will not return to the lab, and I require my conquering outfit to carry out our plans.

Pinky knows a place that may contain what we need. He’s spent the last two hours finishing his hat for the Kentucky Derby and has proudly shown off the finished product to me. Though I’ll admit that the result can only be considered a hat if one is generous with their definition.

I have not been able to contact Snowball. I can only assume he’s making the necessary preparations on his end.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

They stood in front of an enormous building with bright neon letters, impossible to miss even with his direction-challenged companion. Thankfully, it was only a few blocks from the lab. After the scientists strapped him to a machine that tested centrifugal force, he didn’t have the energy to walk much further.

“Welcome to Toyz ‘B’ We, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, and Brain cringed at the horrendous grammar of that name. “It's the most wonderfulest toy shop ever!”

Wonderfulest wasn’t a word, but Brain was given no time to inform Pinky of that fact before Pinky dragged him to the entrance, where a large, cartoonish statue of a Terran bee stood off to the side, greeting customers with a cheerful wave of her magic wand.

“So that’s the mascot, Becky Bee,...let’s see, those are the shopping carts and the baskets and those machines that give you washable tattoos-”

“Focus on the clothing, Pinky. Not all the extraneous material,” Brain reminded him as they entered the store. Unlike their disastrous mall trip, Brain had brought along a source of money, an ACME credit card one of the scientists had carelessly left at their desk after purchasing a chair online.

They had a right to use the card as ACME employees who never got paid for their hard labor in experiments. And he promised Pinky he’d give it back once they were through purchasing the necessary items, so it didn’t catch on that pesky ‘no stealing’ radar.

Based on Pinky’s descriptions of the store, he expected an interior full of wonder, excitement, and interesting objects designed for enjoyment for young Terrans.

Instead, everything was a sterile white, yellow, or black. Rectangular kits of building blocks of all shapes and sizes sat neatly in a row, their price tags dusty as if they hadn’t been moved or cleaned in some time.

Dozens of bee models hung from the ceiling rafters, all of them sharing the exact same dead stare and pose. The whole setup was rather unnerving, and Brain averted his eyes.

He spotted two workers at the registers. They scrolled through their phones, not noticing Pinky’s cheerful greeting as he skipped past them. A third worker called out in alarm to them, and they suddenly dropped their phones and picked up rags, repetitively wiping their counters in circles in a poor attempt to appear busy.

The only one who acted like they were in a store meant for entertainment was Pinky, who oohed and ahhed and zigzagged all over the place to get a look at all the toys.

“Brain, look at this Barbie convertible! It’s so sparkly!” Pinky exclaimed before darting off to admire the box art on five-hundred piece jigsaw puzzles, then crawled onto the lowest shelf to hug a life-sized chihuahua plushie. “Narf! This one’s a cutie! And I also like the polka-dotted lizard, that green unicorn, and that rainbow koala looks really soft too-”

Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, yanking him out of the shelf and onto the floor.

“This store’s already eroding whatever’s left of your mind,” Brain said, dragging Pinky away from the stuffed animals.

Pinky propped himself up on his elbows, humming as they passed aisle upon aisle of action figures, balls, and building blocks.

It was strange how they seemed to be the only customers here. Shouldn’t there be more snot-nosed brats running amok or haggard parents corralling them so they didn’t destroy everything with their grubby hands?

Still, perhaps he shouldn’t complain.

It was a relief that he didn’t have to worry about people trampling him underfoot for now.

But the peace didn’t last long, since Pinky suddenly peeled away in a completely different direction, forgetting that Brain was hanging onto his tail. Though he tried to dig his heels in, Pinky was too fast and the floor too slippery for Brain to bring them to a halt.

Then Pinky stopped on his own, and Brain only caught a glimpse of a metallic table leg before he crashed face-first into it, his nose smarting from the impact.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said sheepishly, and there were five upside-down images of him. Brain swatted at the one in the middle, but his hand hit empty air instead. He shook his head to clear his vision, and all but the Pinky on the far left vanished.

Pinky didn’t stay put for long, darting past Brain. He hauled himself up the table leg and onto a light blue tablecloth. “You have to come up and see this, Brain!” Pinky squealed, peering over the edge of the table, his tail wagging beside him. “There’s an entire fence made of Legos here!”

Brain sighed, wondering if it was an exercise in futility to get Pinky to focus on the task at hand. “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself!” Brain shouted as he climbed up to retrieve Pinky. “We’re here for the clothes and-”

Though Brain only took fifteen seconds to ascend, Pinky managed to don a cropped, checkered top that showed off his slender stomach and a very short blue skirt in that short timeframe.

“Well, what do you think?” Pinky giggled and twirled in circles, the skirt flying in a graceful arc around his waist. “I could go square dancin’ in this, pardner! Yee-narf!”

Realizing he’d been staring at Pinky’s exposed stomach rather than making proper eye contact, Brain quickly turned away and pretended to find a row of small toy cars interesting. Next to the toy cars, there was a menagerie of small, plastic animals penned in by a colorful fence.

Part of a garden themed jigsaw puzzle served as a lawn under his feet, the pieces leading up to an enormous pink dollhouse.

Pinky took off the clothes he’d tried on, neatly threading a bent wire through the crop top and skirt and hanging them on a piece of string that served as a makeshift clothesline. There were five different clotheslines, each stocked to the brim with a variety of colorful articles.

Brain thumbed through the selection, though he didn’t feel an attachment to any of these pieces. While these clothes were designed for toys, most of them were still too big for him.

Finding something that would fit would be more difficult than he realized.

There was a large empty space past all the clotheslines, but it seemed it would be filled in soon enough. The display had all the signs of being a work in progress, and Brain couldn’t help but wonder who had the patience to put all this together. Certainly not the bored workers at the registers.

It was a welcome splash of creativity from the rest of the dull store.

“Poit. This is exactly how I imagined my dream home to be,” Pinky said in awe. He walked up to the front door and popped it open, revealing a spacious interior. Brain followed Pinky inside and they explored the first floor together, which contained a kitchen, living room, and a playroom.

“I really like the coloring on those kitchen cabinets, and the fireplace is a great touch! Very retro. And the kiddies will have a grand ol’ time in the playroom,” Pinky said as they climbed the staircase to the second floor and walked through two bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Marble countertops would make the kitchen and bathroom more refined,” Brain argued. Really, did Pinky want any visitors to think uncivilized brutes owned the house? “But the fireplace is a welcome touch.”

Pinky shrugged as they entered the master bedroom. “It’s fine as is. Now if the backyard was bigger with a dolphin-shaped swimming pool, that would be really, really amazing!”

And Brain preferred marble countertops, but since he wouldn’t be getting everything he wanted, neither would Pinky.

Brain sat on the large bed that took up half the room, the fluffy covers soft and welcoming. But they were on a mission, and future world rulers didn’t roll around on beds in an undignified manner, no matter how tempting it was.

Pinky threw open the closet doors, revealing more clothing inside. “Oh, these pajamas are lovely!” he said, pressing a yellow nightgown close to his body.

“Anything that would suit our purposes?” Brain asked. In hindsight, doing some research into what people wore for masquerade balls would’ve been helpful. He didn’t know why it slipped his mind. Perhaps Pinky’s scatterbrained traits were contagious.

“Hmmm, it’s all pajamas and casual wear,” Pinky said, flicking through the different articles. He closed the doors and reopened them, as if the formal wear would magically appear if they were out of sight. “No suits for you or the porpoises, Brain.” And he’d been so hopeful too.

“Maybe we can find something in the aisles,” Pinky said.

A sensible suggestion, for once.

Brain tried not to appear reluctant to leave the bed, but necessity demanded it. As he stood up, the fur on his neck pricked, his ears twitching towards the large window in the bedroom.

An odd sense that he was being watched came over him, and when he turned to look at the window, he saw a Terran’s eye peering into the balcony.

They stared at each other.

Then the eye blinked.

And Brain was suddenly very, very glad Snowball wasn’t here to bear witness, or he’d never hear the end of how he’d leapt onto Pinky’s back in his moment of panic.

Pinky yelped, and so did the Terran outside the window. There were several loud thuds, followed by a frantic apology.

Brain released Pinky, rubbing his face to get rid of the blush as he ran down the staircase and out the front door.

“S-sorry!” a young woman stammered as she bent down to pick up several packages of toys, only to lose her large glasses on the floor in the process. She wore the standard uniform of the store. “I didn’t think anyone would be inside! I thought one of the furniture pieces fell over, that’s all!”

Pinky hopped down from the table, picking up the woman’s glasses and pressing them into her hand. “It’s okay!” he chirped. “You scared us good, but now we can laugh about it! Oh, your name tag says Sharon! What a lovely name! I’m Pinky, that chubby alien up there is Brain, and we’re going to a party this weekend where we’ll raise awareness for the plight of frosted animal crackers!”

“That’s not the event’s objective,” Brain corrected, and he had no choice but to let Pinky come to his own conclusions. Stealing the secret weapon on Lamont property would remain classified information as promised. “And if you call me chubby again, I shall have to hurt you.”

Sharon took her glasses from Pinky with a tentative smile, then let him climb up her arm and onto her shoulder. “Zort! You have very good taste in Polly Pocket dolls!” Pinky said, peering down at the packages in her hands. “Do you collect?”

Sharon blushed. “I, um, have a lot of Beanie Babies at home. I’m not really interested in Polly Pockets, but they’d fit much better in this display than a standard Barbie.” She glanced at Brain. “I’m sorry, could you please move? I’m putting a few things in that area.”

Brain moved out of the way as Sharon carefully opened the packages. Then she placed several small tables and chairs in the empty space next to the clotheslines, bending the dolls’ legs into sitting positions and placing them on the chairs. She worked slowly and diligently, taking great caution to not knock anything over or break the items.

“Did you make all this?” Pinky asked. “It’s amazing!”

“Y-yeah, I did. The display, I mean. Not the toys.” Sharon didn’t look at Pinky as she straightened one of the Lego fences. “Store’s been on the decline, and because there’s not really much to do, I’m trying to create a few displays to generate some interest. The toys in this one were supposed to be thrown away since nobody’s buying them, even on clearance, but it just seemed so wasteful.”

She was resourceful. It was a valuable trait, but she seemed more embarrassed than anything.

“Take pride, Sharon. It’s an excellent use of parts,” Brain advised.

Pinky nodded eagerly. “And you’re saving the toys from the evil furnace! I’m sure they’re very grateful to you when you’re not looking!”

“You...you really like it?” Sharon lifted her glasses and wiped a tear from her eye. “Nobody’s ever really noticed my efforts around here.”

“Well, they should!” Pinky declared. “I’ll tell them so myself!”

Sharon smiled as Pinky hugged her face, then rejoined Brain on the table. “Thanks, but I don’t think you came to this store just to invade a toy home.”

“No, we didn’t,” Brain said, seeing his opportunity and seizing it. “We require formal clothes for a masquerade ball, and unfortunately, we haven’t seen anything of interest yet.”

“There’s plenty of interesting things in here, Brain,” Pinky said. “Like the busybody bees up on the ceiling!”

Apparently they had two very different definitions of interesting.

“Well, I can bring out some items from the back,” Sharon offered. “We had to pull the entire line of formal Zuma Ben accessories last week. Some parents found the outfits a little scandalous for their kids, so now the accessories are just going in the trash. But maybe you’ll find something to wear from the pile. Be right back, guys!” She walked away, her steps growing slightly more confident.

“Real Zuma Ben accessories?” Pinky clasped his hands to his cheek. “I’ve never worn anything like that before!”

“It’s just a name,” Brain said. He didn’t see why Pinky was treating Zuma Ben’s name like a sacred object. “As long as we’re dressed to impress, the name doesn’t matter.”

“I just think they’re pretty,” Pinky replied. “And I like looking at them, even if I can’t buy anything. Still, I’m really happy with the clothes I have now.”

But Pinky had a sizable wardrobe. Those clothes had to come from somewhere.

“So how did you obtain your clothes if you never bought them?” Brain asked.

Pinky smiled. “The scientists. They’ll drop clothes into my cage, which is really nice of them! One time, I put on this pretty sundress they gave me and I started itching really bad. I was jumping around like a tiny monkey and I managed to make them all laugh! I must’ve been quite the sight!”

Pinky laughed at the memory, but Brain was more disturbed at how the blatant act of humiliation didn’t affect him in the slightest. Then the laugh faltered and restarted at a higher pitch.

No, that initial assessment was wrong. True, Pinky could withstand many things, but not even the most resilient being could tolerate the sound of mockery for long.

Should he say something? Was an ‘I’m sorry’ sufficient? Was there any act of comfort that didn’t involve unnecessary physical contact?

Brain wanted to be decisive, but dozens of scenarios played out in his head, and none of them led to a satisfactory outcome. Tell Pinky to cease his laughter, embrace him, talk about the weather. He didn’t know.

Emotions led to nothing but trouble.

“Quit staring,” Brain snapped when Pinky wouldn’t stop watching him like he wanted something.

Pinky’s ears fell, but Sharon came back before the pang of guilt could fully settle in Brain’s stomach.

“Thanks for waiting, guys,” Sharon said as she dumped the accessory packages onto the table. “See anything you like?”

“All of them!” Pinky declared, happily tossing a three-pack of formal dresses into the air. He tried tearing it open, but the packaging wouldn’t give. Sharon helpfully tore it open for him, and Pinky made a happy, grateful sound before pulling a sparkly purple dress over his body. He twirled around. “So how do I look?”

“Lovely,” Sharon giggled as she pulled out her phone. She set it against the Lego fence, allowing Pinky to see himself in the camera app.

“I’ll put this as a maybe,” Pinky said. “But I have to give all the dresses a chance too!”

He tried four other dresses on in quick succession, and all of them went into the maybe pile.

Meanwhile, Brain searched through his choices of men’s formal wear. He wanted the best possible option for successful infiltration, but he didn’t know much about Terran fashion. His nose wrinkled at a powdered blue suit with far too many ruffles. He was fairly certain that wouldn’t garner respect on any planet, so he pushed the offending pack away from his other options.

The pure white suit would get stained too easily. He needed something darker. That one was out.

“Hey Brain, what about this one?” Pinky asked. He now wore a long sleeved lime green dress, which Brain found extremely tacky and unappealing to the eyes. Not even Pinky could salvage that monstrosity. Yet in Pinky’s hands, there was a black suit with a white shirt underneath. Not extravagant by any means, but since the coloration was similar to his conquering attire, it was the most probable choice by far.

But while Pinky was comfortable with changing in front of others, Brain wasn’t so keen on the idea.

“I require privacy,” Brain said. He took the suit from Pinky and went inside the house, shutting the door behind him and ensuring the shutters were closed.

Then he removed his gloves and jumpsuit, shivering from the cold air as he laid the items over a chair. He put on the new set of pants first, then the white collared shirt, and finally buttoned the jacket over his abdomen.

Well, it was comfortable. And it hid most of his stomach too, which was also a positive. But he needed to see how it looked in the light before making a judgment call, so he rejoined Pinky and Sharon, who were playing with different filters on her phone while Pinky wore a magnificent feathery pink dress.

“Now you really look like a flamingo,” Sharon laughed as Pinky changed the filter to sepia, the image now different shades of tan. Pinky blew a kiss to the camera. “This one’s my favorite so far,” Pinky declared with a graceful curtsey.

And the sleeveless feathery dress did seem to match his personality much better than all the other dresses. Flamboyant and quirky, but inviting and friendly as well. A darker pink feather boa was draped over his shoulders, and purple feathers fanned out from the back of his neck. A light green choker was wrapped around his neck. Then Pinky added a matching headband with a light pink tuft to complete the ensemble.

“That will certainly make an excellent first impression on the partygoers,” Brain said.

Pinky changed the phone filter back to normal with one hand, playing with the feather boa in his other. “Egad, you really think so?” he exclaimed. “Hold on a sec, Brain. Where’s the rest of your outfit?”

“Rest of?” Brain echoed. “This doesn’t require anything else.”

Pinky shook his head and dug a red bow and matching sash out of the clothes pile. “You need a few splashes of color, Brain! Or you’ll just end up a sad wilty wallflower!”

“They’d really match your circles,” Sharon added.

Well, he’d always looked good in red. It was a bold, attention-grabbing color.

Brain draped the sash over his shoulder and fastened the bow around his ear, checking himself over in Sharon’s phone. Then Pinky and Sharon started giggling for some odd reason.

“What?” Brain asked. He was presentable at a formal event now, wasn’t he?

“You’re kinda wearing it wrong,” Sharon admitted.

His ears flattened from embarrassment. Selenians typically wore practical jumpsuits with minimal accessories, and none of their databanks ever mentioned Terran outfits. They must’ve found it unimportant.

“Don’t worry, Brain. It’s an easy fix! May I?” Pinky exclaimed.

Brain nodded his permission, and Pinky removed the bow from Brain’s ear and carefully fastened it underneath his collar, taking great care to not pull the bow too tightly around his neck.

“So this isn’t a sash. It’s a cummerbund and you wear it around your stomach,” Pinky explained as he demonstrated the proper way to wear it. It was relieving to know Terrans made accessories that would hide the slight bulge, and Brain donned the cummerbund correctly.

The accessories really did match his orbs. For the first time, he was dressed to the nines and it was a glorious feeling indeed.

“Aw, you’re both so spiffy!” Sharon exclaimed. “Mind if I put a photo of this on the Twitter page to boost some interest?”

“We’ll return the favor,” Brain said. She deserved some reward for helping them out anyway.

Sharon turned her phone around, ready to snap the picture when Pinky suddenly darted out of frame. “Hold on! Narf!” he cried, shoving a small blue butterfly-themed mask into Brain’s hands and flipping a pink feathery mask over his face. “It’s a masquerade ball, you know!”

While Brain’s mask only covered the area around his eyes, Pinky’s face was mostly hidden by his birdlike mask, leaving only his bright blue eyes exposed.

“Doesn’t that tickle?” Brain inquired as Pinky stretched his boa out for a picture.

Pinky shrugged. “A little. But I don’t mind!”

“Smile for the camera, you guys!” Sharon grinned.

Brain didn’t smile, but he stood in front of the toy house while Sharon snapped pictures and Pinky struck a different pose with every shot.

Pinky’s laughter rang joyously in Brain’s ears.

He would leave that sound behind in just a few days. But it was a small price to pay for the world.

End AN: Maybe this chapter is a little disjointed, but oh well. Sharon is based off the toy store worker who helps the mice in Brain’s Night Off.

I tried to do the math for the Monopoly game and even pulled out my Monopoly property cards so I could get the amounts correct, but if anything is inaccurate I am hereby excused from responsibility because I am a writer and not a mathematician. Yes i use that excuse every time but it’s true.

Brain's outfit comes from the tuxedo he wore in the reboot's Future Brain episode. Pluto designed Pinky's outfit herself (somehow we both were thinking lots of pink feathers for Pinky) and deserves all the credit for it cause it's so beautiful. I chose a butterfly mask for Brain and a flamingo theme for Pinky.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb nova

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mercurytrinemoon · 4 years

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On synastry and how to approach it

If you follow me you may have noticed few of my posts where I'm fixating on the fact that I don't know a certain person's birth date. And I said I'm sensing a nice Venus-Mars connection and honestly now that I think about it, I feel like Jupiter is heavily underlined in here as well. So that made me think of synastry a lot (not that I don't think about it on daily basis) and it made me want to elaborate a bit. Also because I see this weird approach where people single out certain aspects and turn them into "make it or break it" kind of deal and that is just wrong.

Actually it's similar with natal charts. The difference here is obvious - you have two individuals which means double the options in which way the energy may go and more potential for aspects to cancel each other out. So while natal interpretations of, for example, planets in the houses will resonate with you, all the black and white interpretations of synastry house overlays belong in the dumpster imho. And I knooow, I knoooow, one of my first posts was about house overlays. It was very generalized one and I did disclaim to take the entire chart into consideration. But sometimes I see these descriptions where people say "oh my god Venus in the 8th house! This is highly sexual aspect!" But what if none of the people have their Mars nor Venus activated, maybe except for a Venus-Saturn square that puts a big dump on the whole thing. Also, this may as well indicate taking care of shared resources (because that's one of the main themes of the 8th). Besides - and that's my personal take - overlays are less important than aspects between planets unless a) you’re putting a stellium in someone’s house b) it's about angles, because having the same planet as someone's ascendant is a big thing and I can guarantee you that most of the people you create bonds with will have that configuration with you.

Speaking of which, the type of people you attract is highly dependant on your chart. Angles are important but so are aspects and planet placements. I'll give you an example based on my own natal chart, because, obviously, I know myself well and I pay attention to charts of the people I come in contact with. As an Aquarius rising, I attract a lot of Aqua personal planets, Leo risings and people with personal planets in Leo - surprisingly not a single Leo Sun. As a Sagittarius dominant person, most of my friends are Gemini Moons or Sag Moons. Surprisingly I only befriended one Gemini Sun in my life + my belowed dog who was a Gemini. My Aries Moon makes me weak for Aries Suns. Sun is opposite Mars (5th house) - it, again, points to Aries (and Scorpios as well). Dominant fire element and Aries in the 3rd (easy communication) helps here a lot. Having Sagittarius in the 11th (house of friends) and Jupiter in the 7th (house of partnerships), I tend to be friends with other Sadges BUT that Jupiter in the 7th makes me very attracted to Pisces as well. So DO take classic rulership into consideration!

That leads me to another point - modalities. I have a lot of mutable energy so I love other mutable energies. SQUARES omg, especially in romantic/sexual relationships. They do bring tension but hear me out. You need trines and sextiles but squares bring spice. I can guarantee you that having a flowing Mars-Venus contact will give you a pleasant feelings for one another, easiness in communication and a natural synchronicity, but it's the square that will make you wanna rip each other's clothes off. Soooo... I mean, whichever you prefer I guess. Squares are also stimulating, with trines the energy flows nicely, squares bring interest... it's a different element, but the same modality... a perfect mix to make you drawn to the other person. It's similar yet intriguing. Another example, as a Sag Venus my tastes concerning arts and music should clash with a Pisces Venus - that’s what a textbook definition will tell you - but surprise, surprise, half of my favourite artists have Venus in Pisces.

Now with oppositions it's a completely different thing. I think they work wonderful when there are yin-yang planets involved. As I mentioned earlier, as a Sagittarius Sun I love Gemini Moons. They compliment each other. The thing is, with opposites you either get each other or you just pass each other. So it fluctuates. I've noticed that especially when there's the same planet involved. Two people having Mercury opposition will get each other so well they will finish each other's sentences one day and then completely miss the mark the next. Like two vehicles driving in opposite directions.

Trines aren't 100% amaaaazing. I know many people who, like me, have inner planets in fire signs and our values, ways of thinking and approach to certain issues are completely different. We do express them in the same manner though, which is by being loud lol. Trines also bring laziness so if you have too many of them the relationship may just fizzle out. Sextiles on the other hand are so underappreciated. Air fuels fire and water nourishes the earth - it’s way more interesting than a trine where both signs are in the same element, imho. Some astrologers will tell you sextiles are "weaker" but that's just stupid. They’re just as important, okay?

Sometimes you don't even have to have an actual aspect. Whoa, I know, mind-blown. But I see that constantly. Obviously having planets in a tight aspects is very important but let's say you have Aquarius Venus at 5° and the other person has Sun in Aqua at 20°. They don't make an aspect but it's the same sign, therefore you're going to express these energies in the same manner - which makes you compatible (tho I don't like that word). Now the smaller the orb, the more significant the aspect is. I've read somewhere that the aspect with the tightest orb kind of represents the theme of the relationship - I haven't been able to really analyze this theory tho. When it comes to orbs overall, Alexander Von Pronay is suggesting to use aspects up to 7°. I'd do that and then look at aspects under 2° to really see which energies are stronger. Liz Greene said that if you're feeling an aspect, even if the orb is wider, well, you're feeling it and it's there. I suspect it may depend on what energies you're sensitive to. If, for example, your chart ruler is Venus, you may feel Venus aspects more. And then with Uranus, Neptune and Pluto I'd say up to 2°.

What's actually awesome are so called double whammies. It's when the same two planets are aspected both ways. So A person's Sun is trining B's Venus and B's Venus is sextile A's Sun. Or A's Moon is conjunct B's Sun and B's Sun is opposite A's Moon. I like double whammies cause they provide mutuality. People often ask "wHo FeeLs iT mORe????". First of all, there's no clear answer to that because everyone's different and their charts are different and some respond to the energy one way and some, other. That's why I like to ask people: well, how do YOU feel about that aspect (if you, of course, know astrology well enough to pinpoint the energy). But with double whammies you basically exchange the same aspect so, hopefully, in 99%, it will be mutual.

What I also love is having the same aspect natally. Let's say you have a Mars-Mercury trine natally and the other person has it conjoined. That is awesome. It's like going through the same experiences in life and going "yeah! I went through that too! I understand!" Better yet if then those planets also make an aspect in the synastry chart. It's great. You're going to vibe so much.

About mutuality... A few weeks ago I was watching a livestream from Nina and Shaina from Party Trick Astrology (love those girls) and they were talking about synastry so I asked them a question related to these things cause, you know, I bet they've seen hundreds of charts and I'm always curious about other people's observations. So I asked about mutuality and one of them gave an example of a girl whose Venus was beautifully aspected by a guy and the guy's Venus not being aspected at all. And how this, for example, pointed to the guy being into the girl but not vice versa. And I thought that's interesting because I'd assume it would be the other way around. Her planets didn't activate his Venus so he shouldn't be into her romantically. And I actually experienced that myself one time. I had this Aqua friend and had literally zero aspects to my Venus. Not even a semi-sextile, not even a quincunx, not even a wide generational planet connection. And I didn't see him through these romantic lens. So I guess there are no rules to this. OR it’s all about projection (which btw happens a lot in astrology). That's why I like to look at synastry charts and just get the overall vibe.

Now with that being said, the shocker. YOU DON'T HAVE TO HAVE ASPECTS WITH THE OTHER PERSON AT ALL. I know, a bummer. Here we, astrology junkies, are in the lookout for the perfect synastry chart but as I look at charts of celebrity couples I often see them having no Sun connections, no Venus or Mars connections, lame Moon aspects etc. That is indeed disappointing. That's why I was so stoked about that Britney-Justin synastry. Because I don't see connections like that one between all the "it” couples of today.

So I guess... astrology is bullshit... Nah, just kidding. But it is complex. Sometimes it’s quality over quantity. And you should approach synastry as a whole, just feel it out, you know? And I’ll leave you with that for today because it’s getting long.

#synastry #astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #mercurytrinemoon

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awastelandheart · 4 years

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Sebastian’s personality analyzed through his theory-crafted natal chart: The perspective of a professional astrologer.

PART ONE: SUN SIGN.

i apologize in advance to any capricorns i unintentionally read to filth in this post.

i think out of all the bachelors & bachelorettes, Sebastian has the oddest, most abrasive post-marriage dialogue. i’ve heard plenty of people over the years complain about how awkward being married to him is & i, myself, tend to not marry him when i play since locking him in pelican town like that when he so clearly wants to leave feels bad. even before marriage as well, he has a lot of almost cringey & certainly concerning dialogue. Sebastian’s not a man that’s made for marriage or long term relationships i think, at least not in his early to mid 20s which is how old i believe he is in canon. unlike the rest of the bachelors & bachelorettes, his character arc & development don’t do much for melding him into someone worth being with. even Shane who is troubled in a much more obvious way than Sebastian has more moments of reflection that convince the player that he’s a good person despite his flaws. Sebastian may seem to be gentle in his internal struggle, it’s easy to believe that, at most, he’s rude & depressed, but i think there’s a lot more to unpack here that suggests he’s violent, angry to an awful degree, & possibly the worst marriage candidate, if not just the worst townie out of the whole cast.

to start off with, i believe Sebastian’s sun sign is Capricorn. my reasoning for this is a blend between a post on reddit i found that used a simple algorithm to convert the in game dates to real dates. taking into account the slightly flawed method that gives each date 2-3 days worth of wiggle room, “ january 17th ” implies he’s on the Capricorn side of january. to be honest, when i was first thinking about what sun sign i wanted Sebastian to have, i was leaning towards Aquarius since he has several lines about escaping the town & wanting his freedom ( both being very Aquarius-like qualities ), however i think the case for Capricorn is much easier to make. to start off, i’ll give a run down of the most defining Capricorn characteristics, then i’ll move onto showing in-game examples of how Sebastian demonstrates these traits ( while leaving room for his other natal positions that i’ll extrapolate on in more posts to come ).

Capricorn is an earth sign, reveling in stability with a handful of almost toxic traits to display if that stability isn’t achieved. ruled by saturn, or kronos if you wanna get greek, Capricorns are at a constant war with themselves between the general human experience & cutting out as much superfluous expression & feeling as possible. the story of kronos is very reflective of the Capricorn struggle: it’s the tale of a man ( god, but that’s not important ) whose wife is predicted to bear a child who will surpass him & take his legacy. kronos, in his anxiety to prevent this change, begins eating each of his wife’s children as they’re born until one day, his wife replaces one of the newborns with a rock so that it will survive kronos’ consumption. of course this leads to the child growing up & indeed surpassing kronos just as the prophecy foretold. the lesson to be learned from kronos is one of restriction & the inevitability of time.

between their earthly reliability & love of practicality, Capricorns are viewed as the traditional fathers of the zodiac sphere. they guard their values of yesteryear close to their chest. anything too different is cast far away from themselves or, rather, consumed until all traces are disposed of. thankfully not as stubborn as poor Taurus ( another earth sign ), Capricorns have a touch of adaptability in all their logic. their modality is cardinal, implying they take charge of situations. they are the leaders next to Cancer, Libra, & Aries: any good leader knows when to give up their morals for the betterment of their charge. to boot, Capricorn is represented by the mythological creature, the sea-goat ( a creature created by dear old kronos, himself, consisting of the torso of a goat & the tail of a fish ); the goat half delivering on that steady earthly nature of an unrelenting climb to the top of a mountain called life, yet the inclusion of the ocean in this aesthetic implying an amount of emotion only water signs can relate to.

in the typical male-dominated, fatherly way, however, emotional expression does not exist for Capricorns, resulting in this implied depth to lurk well below a Capriorn’s surface. they are deeply independent in a way that leads to intense loneliness. they must do everything for themselves, another thing lovely kronos has taught us here. why look for a different solution to this problem when i so clearly have found one for myself, the ruler of saturn proclaims. a Capricorn’s independence is almost panic charged in this way. they so dearly want to be seen as capable that they will shred their own livelihood as a price. they are masters at self control for it, each having taught themselves the art of stoicism from a young age. Capricorns are at best, friendly in a superficial way. knowing their loneliness is created by their own hands but never knowing how to move passed their own cold & distant heart to enact any change necessary to improve their relationships.

something that is often associated with Capricorns & the other earth signs is the act of earning money. while Taurus enjoys earning money to support their lavish, venus-ruled lifestyle & Virgo sees money as something to worry over thus resulting in them hoarding it, Capricorns crave for their income to be stable & plentiful in order to provide for their loved ones, or for the more lonely Capricorns, to provide for themselves.

saturn is the first planet to take a substantial amount of time to complete its cycle through all the signs. compared to earth, which takes one year to complete its solar rotation & jupiter which takes 12, saturn takes upwards of 30 years. we astrologers take that as symbolical for how Capricorns get significantly better with age, as well as their “ slow & steady wins the race ” attitude. Capricorn is a sign of wisdom but only at the hand of experience. young Capricorns frequently find themselves discontented with their environment & lifestyle, craving a stability that cannot exist without first having established themselves in the world. every seven years it’s said, a Capricorn reaches a new level of understanding & maturity, as it is about every seven years that saturn completes 1/4th of its solar cycle.

Capricorns, like Scorpios, love their privacy. regarded as one of the more shady signs of the zodiac, a Capricorn is the type of person to have everyone believing they know everything there is to know about them while simultaneously only ever revealing surface level knowledge about themselves. Capricorns love having friends & spending time with their loved ones, however they lack a sense of trust that would allow them to form deeper connections. while a Capricorn does experience their emotions as thoroughly as the rest of the zodiac, they have an equally intense insecurity about expressing them. a Capricorn lives their life wanting to be depended on or at least wanting to provide for those that do depend on them. emotions are seen as a weakness that cannot be spared.

with the basic personality of a Capricorn outlined, i’ll now go through some choice quotes that demonstrate these traits & then talk about a few parts of his heart events that do the same.

“ if i just disappeared would it really matter ? ” “ i was thinking... people are like stones skipping over the water. Eventually we're going to sink. ” “ what am I going to do today ? probably nothing.”

when the player first meets Sebastian, he is overtly depressed & never goes out of his way to hide it. there is a solemn dark cloud filled with rain, ready to burst constantly following him & it’s difficult to ignore. this seriousness is very characteristic of many signs, Capricorn being one of them as it is ruled by Saturn, an outer planet with a very melancholic tone.

“ hey, don't let me stop you from getting your work done. if you aren't busy i don't mind if you stick around. ”

this quote demonstrates the productive mindset of a Capricorn. compared to all the other bachelors, Sebastian is the only one to ever really consider the player’s work schedule.

“ i was so close to screaming at mom for throwing away my old comic collection ... but something stopped me. hmm ... with age comes wisdom. ” “ the older i get, the less i'm drawn to the city. ” “ sometimes i feel so angry ... but when you show up i always start to calm down. maybe i'll mellow out with age. ”

while these quotes are also depicting other personality traits, for now i want to emphasize Sebastian’s constant referencing to the passage of time. time is always on a Capricorn’s mind, even the less self aware ones always feel the effects of its passage harsher than other signs. after dating & at points in marriage, which is when these quotes are from, Sebastian begins to view time as something more positive & optimistic. he recognizes that he has anger issues, at the very least, & hopes they’ll get better as time goes on. it’s quite the feat to make a Capricorn see growing older as something positive instead of something anxiety inducing, so from this alone we can really tell that Sebastian is absolutely in love with the player, without a doubt.

“ i couldn't sleep last night so I went for a night ride on the motorcycle. i need to stay independent, even though we're married. that's just how i am. i still love you, though. ” “ hey ... want some coffee ? i needed some ... woke up early from a nightmare & i just couldn't fall back asleep. ” “ hey. i couldn't sleep last night so i took a walk to the caves. ” “ i'm going to take a walk today. i need some time to myself. i'll see you in the evening. ”

Capricorns tend to be almost predisposed to sleep issues due to their immense amount of anxiety that comes with the disconnect between productivity & incapability, or craving emotional connection & viewing emotions as unnecessary. Capricorns are also fiercely independent, so independent that it’s no surprise Sebastian’s the kind of person to sneak out of bed & go off alone when feeling anxious instead of waking his partner up for comfort.

“ i don't want to get soft now that i'm a married guy. maybe i should start eating more hot pepper & working out ? just an idea ... ”

while i’d also be willing to chalk this expression up to Sebastian being anxious about not passing as masc, i’m also willing to attribute this to a Capricorn being afraid of time passing & “ missing out ” on life. growing soft can be a fear of a sign so dedicated to seeming tough & dependable.

“ i don't really feel like doing work today. maybe i'll see what's on tv. ” “ i did some work on the laptop today. ” “ i'm debating whether i should work or just read comics all day. ” “ you know, i should be doing something productive right now. i just lose focus too fast ... maybe i should drink more coffee ? ”

Sebastian references his work so frequently, in typical Capricorn fashion because the urge to justify one’s pleasures by mentioning the fact that they’re also being productive is something ever-present. they are a very guilty breed; on top of their other burdens, they feel especially bad for moments of relaxation or times when they should be doing something, but cannot bring themselves to.

“ you’re probably making a lot of money on your farm, huh ? i guess i should get a job soon … ” “ we should raise more slimes. in big quantities they can be really profitable. ” “ i did some work on the laptop today. i was actually brainstorming some ideas for a game i want to make. with your farming income, i can afford to do what i want with my life. it’s pretty amazing. thank you. ” “ hey. look at me. never forget that i love you ... you’re everything to me. now go make us some money. ” “ are we doing okay on money ? i don’t want to have to sell my laptop ... ” “ *sigh* ... if gas wasn’t so expensive i’d ride my motorcycle to the city today. so what do you do when you aren’t working ? ”

Sebastian talks SO much about money & to me, it’s really hard to imagine concernedape didn’t intentionally make him a Capricorn with this much dialogue about income when no other bachelor or bachelorette has any mention of the topic ( except for harvey who mentions he’s afraid he’s not bringing in enough money from the lack of people in town ). the biggest one that jumps out at me to really signal a significant change in his personality after marriage is when he mentions having the freedom that comes with a steady income, a freedom that now allows him to do what he really wants which is, apparently, to make a video game. another one that jumps out at me here is his immediate association with feeling like he should get a job after assuming the player is making a lot of money. since income is such an important subject for Capricorns, it’s easy to imagine Sebastian feels inferior in comparison to the player since he’s “ just ” a freelancer.

“ i often felt unappreciated at home ... but here i feel like i really belong. ”

this quote kind of hits Capricorn’s need to be appreciated & useful directly on the head & is a good transition for me to talk about the fact that Sebastian never progressed very far in his career while living at home with his family because he felt unappreciated. compared to how he almost immediately has a dialogue line after marriage where he tells the player he’s been inspired to make a video game, it’s easy to see the almost instant maturity Sebastian obtained just from moving out; something he had assumed was in the far off future, implied by his heart scenes.

now let’s break down Sebastian’s heart events.

his first heart even opens with him busy working, already a very Capricorn setting honestly, as i’ve said a few times now since Capricorns are prone to productivity. Robin enters after a moment & informs Sebastian that Abigail is looking for him, to which Sebastian responds to ask if his mother had informed Abigail that he’s working. Robin says that while she had, Abigail still intends on visiting Sebastian at some point today. Sebastian’s next piece of dialogue is very important.

“ *sigh* no one takes my job seriously. ”

this is an incredibly Capricorn thing to say, both because Capricorns always feel the need to be taken seriously & also due to their signature insecurity about income.

the scene continues so that the player can ask Sebastian what his career goals are. he explicitly says: “ well, i’m trying to save up so i can move out of here. probably to the city or something, ” which by itself is obviously very Capricorn, both nailing their need for income, their constant validation that they deserve what they want, & their desire for independence, however his dialogue continues for another textbox that contains the most Capricorn lines i’ve ever heard.

“ you know, if i went to college i’d probably be making six figures right now … ”

Sebastian is so very & obviously obsessed with money, it’s crazy to think he’s any other sign but Capricorn. this portion of the heart scene ends with him saying,

“ but i just don’t want to be a part of that corporate rat race, you know ? ”

this dialogue i’m willing to attribute to another one of his signs at a later date in another post, but in my experience, i’ve known several Capricorn suns that feel the same: that while they strive for a stable income, they hate participating in capitalistic culture.

this first heart scene ends with Sebastian dismissing the player, saying he “ has to get this module finished by tomorrow, ” indicating he has a very set schedule when it comes to his work. organization being yet another characteristic trait of Capricorn.

Sebastian’s second heart scene opens with the player catching him working on his bike. after a moment of introspection, Sebastian starts talking, again, about how when he saves enough money, he’s going to get out of the valley, just him & his bike. this scene doesn’t have anything specifically Capricorn about it & i plan on revisiting it when i talk about his other placements.

likewise, Sebastian’s third & fourth heart scenes don’t have anything outrageously Capricorn in them -- in fact neither scene tells us very much about Sebastian in particular aside from pointing out that he likes tabletop games ( which obviously isn’t exclusively Capricorn by any means, but i’ve known so, so many Capricorn suns that have been hardcore into dnd over the years ... ) & has social anxiety. i’ll most likely dip into his fourth heart scene a little more when i talk about his other placements, though.

Sebastian’s fifth ( & final before marriage ) heart scene is, of course, important, & probably the most memorable for anyone who’s played Sebastian’s route, but it honestly doesn’t tell us much about his core personality. what it does tell us is how he acts & feels when he’s in love, so i’ll definitely come back to this scene when i talk about his venus position.

& that’s on his heart scenes !

so, in summary, i believe Sebastian has a Capricorn sun because he shares many qualities with how astrologers perceive the position. of course this is all just my personal interpretation, but i hope this was an interesting read & shed some light on the kind of person Sebastian is !

#stardew valley rp #stardew valley #stardew valley meta #stardew valley headcanon #stardew rp #i seriously apologize to any capricorns i called out with this #i want u all to know i have a 4 position capricorn stellium so #by writing this i also called myself out #🐸 did i even make a sound? it’s like i never made a sound ― about.#ok to reblog!!

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jessejostark · 4 years

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10 Questions w/ Jesse Jo Stark About Cool Parents, the Awesomeness of Cher + Still Believing in Rock & Roll

Other than maybe Sean Lennon and Jakob Dylan, Jesse Jo Stark grew up with surely the most inspirational people a future musician could possibly hope for. Indeed, her parents Richard Stark and Laurie Lynn Stark are the founders of rock & roll jewelry studio-turned-empire Chrome Hearts—whose clientele includes the likes of Bono, Elton John and Slash. And her Godmother is none other than the goddess of stage, screen and song Cher, who has been a continuing influence on her very talented niece.

Not just that, but she was sort of mentored from the start of her music career by Sex Pistol Steve Jones, who hosts the now legendary radio show Jonesy’s Jukebox in Los Angeles, where Jesse Jo also resides. And most recently, she appeared in the video for Brit punker YUNGBLUD’s new single “Strawberry Lipstick,” while corona had stranded him in LA.

But for all they may have rubbed off on her, the young Ms. Stark makes music that surely comes from somewhere deep within herself. Each song seems a little piece of her that she allows out into the world, revealing the inner intensity and intimacy that belie a very public persona.

Her previous single, a cover of John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery,” was a languid, fuzzed-out country gem of a ballad. But new track “Tangerine” is a mini-masterpiece of sorts, exhibiting her ease with crossing genres and weaving them seamlessly together. The twangy guitars are back, but there’s a little Beatles, a little widescreen Britpop, and just a hint of retro Cali dreaming as well. With its lush strings, and Stark’s haunted voice so full of longing, it vividly evokes so many life memories of love’s powerful pull.

For the video, she reached out to fans to create their own vision for the visual accompaniment to the song, and they were then edited together—a way of crossing the quarantine divide via the power of art. She describes it thusly:

“What I’ve missed most in this new way of livin’ has been the live shows and hanging out with everyone every night. So along with the ‘Tangerine’ track release, we thought it would be super sweet to get everyone involved in the video, so it’s almost like we’re all having this one big party together, no matter where we are in the world, physically we are together in heart. i’ve been at home watching everyone’s videos in full tears with the biggest smile wrapped around my face. everyone’s creativity and love for this song has been overwhelming. It makes my heart beat knowing that they can take away a little piece of ‘Tangerine’ and make it their own. it’s fucking beautiful. it’s art.”

We hit Jesse Jo with ten questions about all of the above, and as it turned out, even her answers were uniquely stylish.

youtube

Your influences are distinctly 1960s + ’70s. Do you feel a bit out of place in the current musical zeitgeist of hip-hop preeminence and so much over-glossed pop? my influences are not only 60’s and 70’s

and the thing about the current state of music right now is that there is nothing out of place. hip hop artists pull samples from old soul, country, and r&b records and it’s all turning into a place you can do anything you want. the only thing that pisses me off is when people chase chart positions by making the same shit over and over.

there is a difference between being out of place and making a place for yourself. so to answer. no i do not feel out of place. i feel like i’m right where i should be

What was some of the music you grew up listening to? my dad was always my go-to with music. he always played the clash, merle, john lennon, brian eno, david bowie on the way to school. with the occasional britney n christina.

i remember this one time,i think i was about 7 years old, he picked me up at my friend sasha’s house and i was throwing a fit because i didn’t want to leave. as we pulled out of the drive way he turned on “should i stay or should i go” by the clash. i had never heard it before. he looked at me and smiled and i felt my bad mood melt away. i remember thinking, as i tried my best to keep scowling at him, “i wanna make something this cool” . n i’m still tryin

What was it like growing up with rocker parents? Did that imprint on your personal aesthetic? are they rocker !? i mean i know they are pretty damn cool. everything about them has left a huge beautiful mark all over me. they are my favorite legends and they inspire me completely and truly .

On “Tangerine,” one can detect references to the The Beatles, Oasis, Patsy Cline, Mazzy Star…what has been your musical state of mind of late? what a major line up i wanna go to that show.

my musical state of mind has been to make more.

Image by Laurie Lynn Stark

Your music is very raw and seemingly unfussed over. Does inspiration find you in a mostly spontaneous fashion? oh it’s fussed . i am fussy . music for me is never just one thing. sometimes a song comes easy like it was layin on my night stand when i woke up. other times i feel like i have to cut my body open, drown in my tears and claw at the floor just to get one word out. inspiration is endless when you show up for it.

How did you come to work with YUNGBLUD? he called me n asked for me to be in his video . he said there’d be lips n latex. and so…

Cher is your godmother – has she been a mentor and influence? in every single way. i am in awe of her.

As opposed to those with batteries of stylists, you seem to really own your sense of style. Who are your fashion inspirations? my brother n sister, the cramps, cher, audrey hepburn, hands, animal print, love n london. i want to dress up like my favorite singers voices.

just like in every medium, i have people i’ve worked with forever. they’re my family. we understand each other. challenge each other and force each other to be brutally honest in the things we make.

i also love fresh eyes and ears and people that find new ways to look at the same things.

Is a full Jesse Jo Stark album on the horizon? it is n soon

Rock & roll as we know it seems to be on life support. What do you think is left for it? only if you aren’t lookin. there are so many insane bands in the world. some of my favorite bands now are kids my age. it isn’t dead. you just gotta find it.

#jesse jo stark #blackbook media #interview #2020

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years

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Honky Dancer series - Chapter 7

Chapter title: Secrets and sorrows Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None A/N: This chapter tore the hell out of my emotions, and I actually expect it to do much the same to you. I’d apologize for that but I know you’ll all stick with me to the end, because the story has a long way to go to get to that happy ending you all want so much! Enjoy! X

The next three weeks were some of the best weeks of my life. Being Taron’s girlfriend, being loved by him, was an exceptional experience. Despite both of us being incredibly busy and in the thick of filming, he never let a day go by where he didn’t remind me in some way that I was loved and that I was his. I’d never had a relationship that had felt so genuinely real and sweet and supportive, and it made a difference in how I felt about my own life to that point.

One of my favorite moments had been the evening I was making dinner, some kind of cauliflower pasta recipe Taron had agreed to be the guinea pig for. He and Clara were seated at the dining table, going over her fractions homework. Clara’s frustration at not understanding the problems was palpable, but I just remember how patient and calm Taron remained until that look of understanding dawned on my daughter’s face. They’d both looked up at me, leaning in the kitchen doorway, with the sweetest looks on their faces.

Their bond was growing every day, made even stronger when, unbeknownst to me, a special delivery had been made of a Steinway upright studio piano so Clara could continue her lessons at home. I will never forget the look on her face when she realized it really was hers and it would be staying in my front room. Taron rebuffed every “you shouldn’t have” I tried to give him, telling me he knew first-hand how important it was to be supported in the pursuit of your art. I couldn’t deny him that, because I knew it to be true as well. Still, a few internet searches later made me gasp at how much he had spent on us; I knew I could never repay him.

But that was just the thing; he didn’t want or need repayment. He did things for people out of the kindness of his heart; he never expected someone to give him a favor back. He was generous to a fault, and whether he knew how much money he was worth or not, he never affected an attitude that he was affluent. He remained the working class boy he’d spent his childhood growing up as, the boy who needed financial help from his family just to audition for RADA. And I think I loved him even more for that.

Trying to pin Markus down, though, that was a whole other story. I knew I needed to tell him we were definitely done, but every time I tried to make plans to grab a coffee he had something else come up. We were dancing every day, learning choreography for both “Saturday Night’s Alright” and “Bitch Is Back,” and my body hurt in every way it was possible to hurt. Both of those pieces were massive, and when they secured set locations we would have to be ready to go.

I’m pretty sure I spent more time at Rocketman rehearsals those few weeks than I did teaching my own classes, but I was beginning to wonder if Markus was blowing me off because he already suspected what I needed to tell him. I had finally decided to just grab him after rehearsal that day and make it final, and the stress and anxiety of it made me feel slightly queasy.

We had just finished rehearsal and Leah immediately came up to me before I could pull Markus aside. “Are you okay?” she asked me, and I shrugged.

“Of course. I mean, I’m with Taron now anyway,” I said, watching Markus flirt a bit shamelessly with another dancer, and she was all-too-happy to be receiving his attention. I’m not really sure how someone could manage to make a leotard look slutty, but she certainly got an A for the effort.

“Markus can be a dick, forget that. What I mean is that you’re really pale but your cheeks are also really flushed,” Leah said, staring at my face.

“Oh, that, I don’t feel great, no,” I shook my head. “I’m kind of nauseous, but hey, I’m here. The show must go on,” I said, giving her a faint smile.

“Or it really doesn’t if you’re really sick, Juliette,” she said. “Maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

“I just need to deal with Markus and get home and take a nice long soak and get some sleep. I’ll be fine,” I said, giving her a tight smile even though I was fighting the urge to lose my lunch at that moment. “See you tomorrow?” I said, and she nodded, still looking concerned. But when I turned away from her to find Markus, he had already disappeared, and I was in no state to try and chase him down.

I changed into my sneaks and gathered up my bag and, as I was leaving, had to make a detour into the bathroom to puke after all. I hadn’t had much to eat that day anyway, so it was mostly orange Gatorade and bile and I felt worse for throwing up, since it was now burning in my throat and sinuses.

“Ugh, fuck,” I groaned as I left the stall, trying to wipe the clammy sweat off my forehead. The truth was that I was waking up most mornings feeling a little ill and sometimes it lasted long into the day. I was beginning to think I needed to go to the doctor, but it seemed to come and go at random. I imagined it was likely just stress from everything going on, but it would probably be wise to see the doctor anyway. I washed up, splashing water on my face, and smiled as I scrolled through my texts. Taron never failed to make me feel better no matter what.

I left the bathroom and passed Riley and her posse hanging out in the hallway, ignoring their stares and the whispered comments on how I must be bulimic because that’s why I was always running to the bathroom during rehearsals and why I stayed so skinny. I had no idea what they were talking about, and ignoring them was always the safest bet, but their bullying still got under my skin some days. I wished I could turn to them and tell them off, but that probably wouldn’t satisfy anything or make me feel better.

The subway ride to my mother’s to pick up Clara, and subsequently home, made me feel even more queasy, and I lost my appetite for dinner for the rest of the evening. After I helped Clara with her homework, her piano lessons, and made her food, I ended up just laying in front of the telly, exhausted and lacking any energy, for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the most inspiring end to the day, and just as I was crawling into bed, Taron called me.

“Hey love!” he replied when I answered the phone, probably sounding as sleepy as I felt.

“Hey T,” I groaned, rolling over slightly in my bed, all of my muscles protesting.

“Everything alright?” he asked, the excitement draining from his voice slightly.

“I just feel miserable, honestly,” I said softly. “I think I might go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh, babe, you should have called me over. I’d bring you the best soup my mam made to make me feel better,” he said sweetly.

“I just need sleep. And probably strong drugs,” I mumbled into the phone.

“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to the clinic?” he asked, and I shook my head before realizing he couldn’t see that.

“I’ll not have you cancel on your film scenes to go wait in a clinic lobby. I’m sure it’s just some kind of bug. I’ll be fine,” I insisted, and I could hear him pacing on the other end, the way he did when he was anxious about something.

“Alright, but if you need me, you know I’ll be there, right?” he said quietly.

“Of course, babe. I know that. With my whole heart, I know that,” I smiled softly. We chatted a bit more but I couldn’t hardly keep my eyes open, and soon we ended our call and I passed out.

I actually felt better in the morning, enough to keep some dry toast down, and after seeing Clara off to school, I managed to teach my first two classes of the day before taking my lunch break to go to the clinic. My stomach had started to churn again, and I was ready to just be over this stomach bug. I got checked in and had to groan at the long wait time, having to text the Rocketman choreographer that I’d be running late to rehearsals but he only told me to take care of myself and he’d see me later, and to let him know if that somehow changed.

I was a nervous wreck by the time my name was called, and after having my vitals checked (and frowning over the fact that I’d gained 10 pounds despite my diet restrictions) and explaining my symptoms to the nurse, I was left to wait in the room for another 15 minutes, shivering in the cold air. I bounced my knee and aimlessly scrolled through Facebook until the doctor came in. After describing my symptoms, yet again, even though they were in my chart, the doctor asked if there was even a remote chance that I could be pregnant. And since I couldn’t answer that with utter confidence, she made me take the dreaded urine test.

I was so nervous I nearly couldn’t do it, and then had to wait even longer for the results to come back, my stomach tied in knots for an entirely different reason. I’d had my period, though, so I’d never thought to take the home tests I’d bought. I’d believed that was a sure sign I wasn’t. But what if I’d been wrong? I thought to myself, my head a complete jumble.

When the doctor knocked and came back in the room, interrupting my train of thought, I nearly fell off the table for having been holding my breath so long. I was clutching my phone in my hand so hard my knuckles were turning white.

“Well, Juliette, your symptoms are very explainable by one very simple thing. You are indeed pregnant, about seven weeks or so,” the doctor replied, as gently as possible.

“But it can’t be,” I whispered, feeling the walls of the room closing in around me, the tightness in my chest threatening to overwhelm me. “I had my period,” I said stupidly.

“Many women still have menstrual cycles, especially in the first trimester. It’s quite common, and some can even exhibit period symptoms throughout the entire pregnancy. But the results are very clear,” she explained sympathetically after gauging my reaction as not-of-the-excited variety.

When I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, the doctor continued, giving me a prescription to help with the nausea and telling me I needed to follow up with my Ob-Gyn. I could only nod my head, still frozen in the ocean of confusion, fear, anxiety, joy and excitement that came with “You’re pregnant.” Where do I go from here? I had no idea.

I left the clinic in an absolute daze, and instead of going to Rocketman rehearsal, I ended up wandering around Regents Park, not really seeing anything at all as I worked through the torrent of emotions and thoughts and questions inside my head. Seven weeks meant the baby was definitely Markus’ - that was the only good thing about this situation. I wouldn’t have to spend months wondering who the father might be.

But now I wasn’t sure what to do; I was in love with Taron, but how could I possibly ask him to carry this burden with me, to take this responsibility on when it was another man’s? Even more so, I was adamant that Clara know her father; I would fight just as hard to make sure this baby knew his or hers. And I had yet to actually leave Markus, so maybe the right thing to do was to decide to be with him even if it didn’t make my heart entirely happy. I now had a responsibility to this baby to not be selfish, to not choose only my own happiness but what would be best for all of us.

I gently touched my belly and smiled for a moment; a new chapter in my life was most definitely beginning.

I finally made it to rehearsals, texting Taron that we needed to talk later, as soon as we could manage to find time. He responded immediately that he’d meet me after rehearsals were over, so I spent the next few hours trying to dance through my anxiety. As soon as I stepped out of the rehearsal room, bag slung over my shoulder, Taron was there waiting for me.

“Juliette, darling, everything alright?” he asked, kissing me on the forehead and making me feel intrinsically sad.

“No, not really,” I said softly, nodding toward one of the empty studios. We stepped inside and instantly I felt smaller, diminished by what I was going to do, a lesser person somehow.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he asked, his eyes wide and full of the vulnerability that had endeared me to him, my hands clutched tightly in his.

“I can’t do this,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he even heard me. “I can’t be with you, Taron,” I mumbled, hearing his sharp intake of breath and feeling it like a knife wound in my heart.

“What the hell do you mean?” he asked, slowly dropping my hands and staring at me.

“I have to break up with you. I’m going to choose Markus,” I said numbly, unfeeling.

“You told me you loved me,” he said, the hurt in his voice hurting me.

“That was a lie,” I said, trying not to tear up. I’m not sure I sounded even remotely convincing.

“No, it wasn’t a lie,” he said, shaking his head and calling my bluff. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, at all. I don’t understand it, but I won’t play these games with you,” he said, waiting for me to explain myself. But I couldn’t tell him about the baby now; it would only hurt him further. “I gave my heart to you. You can’t just toss it away or pick it back up when it’s convenient to you,” he said, not an ounce of anger in his words, only resignation. His eyes were a bit red at that point, and if I wasn’t already feeling low, seeing him nearly cry would have broken me down further.

He sighed heavily when I still said nothing. “When you’re good and ready to love someone proper, come back to me. But until then, I wish you all the best,” he said gruffly, tearing himself away and leaving me standing alone in the studio, the pain in my heart echoing silently off the walls.

****

It turns out that I deserved the biggest Oscar award in the world. To act sincerely happy when your heart is shattered into a million jagged pieces is no small feat. Markus, for his part, was beyond thrilled that I had chosen to be with him after all, and while he wasn’t Taron in any capacity, he was still kind to me at least. I had yet to tell him that I was pregnant though; somehow that felt like a secret I needed to protect until the moment I couldn’t hide it any longer.

For now, I continued to dance, eating anti-nausea meds like Pez candies and trying to find the right balance between eating enough food to sustain myself and the baby but not so much that I’d gain any more than I had to. If the production never found out I was knocked up, then no one else would have to be the wiser. I hadn’t told my mum yet either, afraid of her judgment, nor Madison, even though I desperately needed to talk to someone about this. All she knew was that I had decided to cast my lot in with Markus and that I was, according to her, figuratively insane.

The worst part was the cold politeness I now received from Taron any time we ran into each other at the studios. I hated what we had become, hated the pain I had caused him and myself. I knew he’d shut himself down to protect his own feelings against me, but knowing how warm and compassionate and open he could be just made this feel even worse. Still, I knew for certain that he couldn’t know about the baby, and so I bore the ups and downs of the pregnancy for weeks in silence, sometimes dreading getting out of bed, sometimes full of a strange energy I couldn’t explain. But glowing I was not; I mostly felt bedraggled and exhausted, so much that even Clara asked if I was sick one day.

But you can only go so long without support before you totally break; I learned that lesson the hard way. Five weeks later, after a back-breaking rehearsal, I just totally felt something inside me snap. We were about to start night shoots for the “Saturday Night’s Alright” scenes but I couldn’t even muster the excitement I had originally felt when I signed my contract. I felt like I was going through the motions of everything, and I was worried I wouldn’t even be a proper fit for the film. I was living a lie, only partly happy in this pseudo-relationship I was trying to build with Markus. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t me, and keeping the baby a secret was crushing me. I also desperately missed Taron, and I can’t tell you how many times I nearly dialed his number, because I knew despite everything he would have picked up the phone, and he would have listened, and he would have tried to help me find a solution even if he wasn’t with me. That was just the person he was; I felt like I had lost my best friend.

I pulled Markus into the same empty studio I had broken Taron’s heart in, and sat down on the floor, my hips aching something fierce.

“Markus, I have to tell you something. Please don’t freak out,” I said quietly, as he sprawled out on the floor next to me, his sweaty shirt sticking to his muscular chest.

“What is it, babe?” he asked, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. While I loved when Taron called me babe, something about the way Markus said it always made me cringe slightly. For a moment I nearly chickened out in telling him my news, but I couldn’t keep going on like this. At some point he would notice when I was naked that my just-beginning-to-show stomach bump was more than just a large meal I wasn’t even eating.

“You remember that first time we had sex, right?” I said, looking over at him and biting my lip.

“Of course I remember that,” he chuckled. “I fell for you that night,” he said, a boyishly cute grin on his face.

“Yeah, well, we did a lot more that night than just sleep together. Markus, we made a baby. I’m pregnant,” I said quietly, but my words still sounded too loud.

“Woah, no way,” he said, sitting up immediately. “You… you’re sure of that?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I had a test at the clinic, I’m sure,” I said. “I’m twelve weeks already.”

“And you’re sure it’s mine?” he asked, making me sigh.

“Of course it is. Taron’s always used protection, for one, and for two, the timeline is right. It was you.”

He was quiet for a long few minutes, trying to process this news, I’m guessing. “You’re running out of time then,” he finally spoke.

“Running out of time? For what?” I asked, confused.

“Well you’re not going to keep the thing, are you?” he said, and I couldn’t help it, my jaw dropped.

“Of course I’m going to keep your son or daughter. This baby isn’t some ‘thing.’ It’s not garbage you throw away,” I said, feeling the anger rising in my chest.

“Woah, I didn’t mean it like that Juliette. But I sure as hell am not ready to become a father,” he said, holding up his hands to me.

“You don’t get to make that decision now, Markus. You have to take responsibility for what you did,” I nearly hissed. “And what about Clara? You can’t date me without considering her!”

“Yeah, but Clara’s old enough to wipe her own ass. And I’m not her father, she already has one of those she spends time with. I’m fine with that, but a baby is a whole other story. You can’t possibly want this too, it will ruin your career,” he pointed out, and I could only stare at him, unable to process what he was saying.

“My career? Being a mum was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life and I will choose my family over my career every single day of my life. But of course, you wouldn’t know what that’s like because you don’t even want to try,” I said, my face flushing red.

“I’m sorry Juliette. I just can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I��d support you if you want to, you know, terminate it, but I won’t be the one raising it,” he said. “I’m not going to shatter my life like that,” he continued.

“Then get out. Get out of my face. Don’t ever talk to me again,” I said, my voice shaking in both anger and anguish. “This baby will be better off without someone who doesn’t want it. But I do, and my baby will always know how much I love him or her.”

I buried my head in my hands, bursting into tears as I heard Markus leave the room without another word. I’m not sure what I had expected, but that was not it. I hadn’t remotely prepared myself for the possibility that he would have wanted me to get an abortion, that he would reject fatherhood so thoroughly. Were any of us ever ready to be a parent, even people who had looked forward to it for so long? There was something so deeply terrifying about being responsible for the needs of such a tiny human being, of trying to help them thrive in a world meant for destruction. But that was also the greatest role I had ever held, far more rewarding than any production I had ever graced the stage in. And it wasn’t until the words had left my mouth that I realized how deeply, fiercely I wanted and needed this baby too.

I have no idea how long I cried in that empty studio. I have no idea who discovered me like that through the tiny window in the door. And I have no idea who went and got Taron, but suddenly he was there, pulling me into his safe, comforting arms. I don’t know how long we sat like that, until I had long cried all my tears out and my body had stopped shaking and his fingers grew tired of stroking my hair.

He had stayed silent, patient, until I finally pulled away enough to sit up on my own. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” he asked, absolutely no judgment in his voice. His expression was nothing but kind and compassionate, worried for my well-being over his own.

“I found out I was pregnant five weeks ago,” I said softly. “That’s why I was feeling so ill. I went to the clinic and we did a test. I was already seven weeks at that point. I thought … I thought it would be the right thing to do to give Markus a chance to be the father of the baby he created with me but he wants no part in it. He told me to get rid of it, and I can’t,” I whispered.

“That’s why you tried to break things off with me?” Taron asked gently, smoothing back my hair from my face as I nodded. “Oh Juliette,” he said softly. “I knew there was something, some reason for it. I knew that wasn’t what you wanted, that you were breaking your own heart. I’ve only been waiting for you,” he said, making me want to cry again. “I am here for you in everything, through everything. And we will face this together too. When I told you I loved you, there were no conditions attached. And I love Clara too, and I will love Markus’ baby as it were my own. Because that’s how I love, endlessly,” he said, and my eyes watered up again.

“I can’t ask that of you, Taron,” I said, wiping at my face hastily, but he just reached over and gently brushed my tears from my cheeks before gathering my hands in his own.

“You’re not asking me to do anything. This is something I need too. Maybe it doesn’t happen exactly the way I imagined it would, but that doesn’t mean I can’t accept it, adapt to it, and grow with it. Life has a way of challenging people, but that doesn’t make it all bad. And I right imagine that this could be so much more of a blessing, yeah?”

“My God, you’re a saint. An absolute angel, Taron. I don’t deserve this, at all. I pushed you away,” I said, trembling slightly so he pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead sweetly.

“I’m just Taron,” he smiled. “And you do deserve to be happy, and to be loved, and to be absolutely fucking cherished. So I am here for as long as you want me to be here,” he said. “I never really stopped.”

“Even with this?” I asked, touching my belly, which I had started to hide beneath dance sweats because leotards just weren’t cutting it anymore.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he grinned and I’m pretty sure I broke apart in a whole new way at that statement.

“Taron,” I breathed slowly, just gazing at him, feeling excited and a bit bewildered too. “Are you sure?”

“100 percent, Juliette. Now stop asking me that because I won’t change my mind,” he chuckled sweetly. “Now let’s get you up off this floor, and let’s go have a celebratory dinner, shall we?” he said.

“But don’t you have more filming to get back to?” I asked, a bit wide-eyed and still feeling a bit like I was floating a few feet off the ground. My head was swimming with the crazy turn of events.

“Dex understands. You needed me, it’s really as simple as that,” he replied, helping me stand up and even shouldering my stinky dance bag himself, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Taron, not invalid,” I teased him and he just shrugged.

“I’d carry it for you any day,” he smirked, even holding the studio door open for me too. “Get used to it,” he said, before playfully slapping me on the bum as I walked by. “Also just wanted to do that,” he said cheekily, making me groan at that but also feel so grateful that we hadn’t lost what made us feel so special.

“So who all knows about this?” he asked me as we walked out to his car.

“Just you and Markus, really. I hadn’t told anyone before today,” I said softly. “I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore. I was feeling so alone.”

“Well you aren’t alone now, at all. And you should tell your mum, and Madison. Tell them the baby is mine if you like, if you’re worried about anyone judging you. It might as well be, because I’m going to love it that way,” he said, squeezing my hand in his. “But you should feel happy, and proud, and excited. I want that for you,” he grinned, changing everything about the fear and confusion I’d felt just a few weeks before.

“How are you so perfect, Taron?” I asked, shaking my head in awe of him.

“I just wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s not that hard to care about people more than yourself. I find that pays itself back in dividends. And it’s not hard to love you, you know. You’ve brought a lot of color and light into my life in a way I didn’t understand it could be before,” he said softly. “And now I have even more to look forward to.”

“Damnit, T,” I said through the blush rising in my cheeks. “I don’t know how to handle when you say things like that,” I laughed. “It’s like living inside a fairy tale.”

“Fairy tales were written because the truth in them does exist. They aren’t unattainable, impossible figments of our imagination. They can be elusive, yes, and rare, but sometimes you do find yourself living inside one.”

I could only gaze after him as he unlocked the car, opening the door for me again, as I felt every bit of myself being put right again. We decided on our favorite pizza place, but I first made him stop by my house so I could shower and change into more suitable clothes. Clara was with Zayn that night, so we took our time eating and enjoying our relationship again, a relationship that nothing could seem to derail.

I had the idea to stop over at my mum’s, because of all the people who should know, who had been through thick and thin for me with Clara, it was her. Taron almost seemed cutely nervous as we sat on the couch and I broke the news to her. My mom honestly screamed in excitement, jumping up and enveloping us both in a bone-crushing hug. I had no idea why I was so worried about her reaction after all; we never mentioned the baby’s lineage and let her assume since Taron was there. We figured it would be easier this way, to not have to deliver the news with a long introductory caveat, and if the question came up later we could explain then.

As we were driving back to my home, it hit me with a sudden jolt that I would have to meet Taron’s parents, and that we would be sharing the news with his family too. Something about that made everything feel far more real to me, that this was honestly going to be my life. That I would truly become a part of his life, not just in the few dates we managed to squeeze between rehearsals and film sequences, but that we would honestly be creating a life together. There would be many things to have to discuss and figure out in the near future, but tonight wasn’t the night for all of that.

Later, when we were laying on the couch, my head in his lap, the telly on a low murmur and both of us trying to not pass out, everything just felt right. Troy was snoozing on the rug, and I felt as emotionally satisfied as it was possible to feel, and far too stuffed with pizza than I had a right to be. I didn’t have to put on any kind of show with Taron; there was no performance here. We could both comfortably be ourselves, even if that was tired and cranky or moody or whatever.

“Tomorrow’s a big day,” I said with a yawn.

“God, don’t remind me. Night shoots,” he groaned playfully.

“I think it’s exciting,” I grinned. “The set already looks insanely cool. I can’t imagine it all lit up at night!” I smiled. We’d already had a few camera blockings at the carnival they had built specifically for this scene. I was honestly excited about the four days we’d be shooting tomorrow, despite the massive amount of logistics that would go into it. We were definitely in for some long, long nights.

“You think that because you haven’t done it yet,” he giggled. “Speaking of, we should probably head for bed ourselves now. Try to store up some of that energy we’ll be needing.”

I grinned at that and happily followed him back to my bedroom. We both quickly got ready for bed and fell into it, and I was all too happy to see him resting between my frilly sheets and pillows. “You’re cute,” I grinned, kissing the tip of his nose, which he wrinkled in response.

“Well don’t give me a big ego about it,” he teased me lightly, pulling me down to him so that I squealed and then kissing me proper a few times.

“Get some sleep, love,” he smiled, his eyes already drifting shut in exhaustion.

“You too, T. Thanks for saving me today,” I said softly.

“Always,” he breathed out, falling asleep shortly after, his eyelashes sweetly resting against his cheeks in slumber.

Despite my own exhaustion, I was still a whirlwind of emotion and I couldn’t quite fall asleep, so I silently slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, sitting on the bathroom floor and calling Madison even though it was late and not caring if it woke her up.

“What on earth is going on with you!” she fairly screeched into the phone when she answered, clearly not asleep. “You’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I’m so-”

“I’m pregnant!” I cut in, and she instantly stopped what she was saying.

“What?!” Madison yelled into the phone, so I had to hold it away from my ear for a moment.

“Jesus, Mads. Calm down. Things have really changed,” I said, explaining why I’d broken up with Taron, how things went down with Markus, and that Taron had been more forgiving than I deserved him to be toward me.

“So you’re back together again?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. I’m not sure we really were ever apart. He knew I hadn’t made the decision I wanted to make. That the lie was that I didn’t want him. He knew that the whole time. He truly knows me better than I know myself,” I smiled softly.

“And what about, you know, Markus’ baby?”

“That Markus refuses to acknowledge? Yeah, Taron said it’s his now. He wants to be a dad, and he’s claiming this as his.”

“That’s love, right there, Juliette. It’s staring you right in the face. Don’t you dare ever try and throw that away again, you hear? I will kick your little ballerina ass with my own pointe shoes if I have to!” she squealed, making me laugh too.

“I think I’m done screwing everything up here,” I replied with a laugh. “The universe couldn’t be louder and clearer.”

“That’s for damn sure. Now I’m just curious when he’s going to put a ring on that finger of yours!” she giggled.

“Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” I cautioned.

“Dream a little, Juliette. He’s obviously a bit of a romantic. You know he’s going to make an honest woman of you. You’d better get on Pinterest and start planning. Oh, and I’d better be your maid of honor,” she said, making me laugh again. I listened to her chatter on about weddings and babies and all the possibilities, feeling bemused but also a little hopeful. I had no idea what a future with Taron looked like, not really, balancing kids and our careers. But I was certain that it would be happy; not easy, not perfect, but always fulfilling and supportive.

“Alright, Mads, I should go,” I said with a yawn, breaking into her reverie of my own someday maybe wedding.

“Oh, of course. Momma ought to get her baby rest,” she teased me, but it was all in love and excitement for me.

“You know it,” I giggled. “And that hottie in my bed tonight, snoring away,” I snickered.

“Jesus, you lucky bitch,” Madison joked, sort of.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grinned. “Night, Mads. Love you long.”

“Love you hard, Juliette,” she grinned back before we managed to hang up the call. I leaned my head back against the wall for a long moment, smiling to myself. I could honestly do this - I could have a happy life, I thought to myself.

I used the toilet one last time, already starting to feel the need to do that more often, before slipping back into bed with Taron, realizing just how much I had missed seeing the silhouette of his sleeping form. We had grown so comfortable with each other, that that absence over five weeks had been misery. But like magnets, we had found our way back to each other, his openness, vulnerability and forgiving heart never once questioning whether I should be in his life. He already knew that was where I belonged, and I loved him so much for never doubting it. I needed him, and he accepted that, and trusted so much of himself to my broken heart.

“Love you, T,” I said in the darkness, brushing my fingers lightly through his hair, before settling in next to him, feeling every ache and pain, emotionally wrought, but also feeling a deep satisfaction too. There was a certain courage in what he was choosing to do, and I respected him whole-heartedly for it. The universe had given me the greatest gifts, the man beside me, and the baby inside me. As I fell into the sweetest slumber, I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to let go now.

How will Taron and Juliette’s lives intersect, now that there’s a baby between them? Find out in Chapter 8 HERE.

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron fanfiction #rocketman fanfiction

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coolmarriagerecords · 4 years

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Johan Kugelberg's Top 100 DIY Singles

From Ugly Things via http://www.hyped2death.com/Kugelberg100.html

1. The Desperate Bicycles -The Medium Was Tedium (Refill Records, 1977 UK) The Desperate Bicycles are the yardstick for this obscurist sub genre. No one did it as easy or as cheap as them. Of the slew of unfathomable brilliant pop 45's, The Medium Was Tedium is the apex: The enthusiasm, anger and joy de vivre that oozes from the tracks contained within has me reaching for Village Green-Kinks and first album Cramps to describe the passion. For drunken, leftist dorm-room intellectuals to describe the faith and for Dez/Chavo-era Black Flag to describe the power ? notwithstanding that the recordings themselves are of 4-track bedroom shut-in lo-fi jangle. Too bad the band don't want the material re-released but a good thing indeed that the records barely rate at all in the collector scum price guide pantheon.

2. Beyond The Implode -Last Thoughts EP (Diverse Records UK 1979) Barrett/early-Floyd psych as good (or better) than any Soft Boys, obscurist strum & drang way more passionate than any Flying Nun band I've heard and Inflammable vocals of the purest Oxbridge confusion. The Spacemen 3 never did anything to match this record. [Messthetics #6]

3. V/A -Weird Noise EP (Fuck Off Records UK 1980) The legend doesn't start here, but at least this isn't a cassette-only release in an edition of 50 copies or so like the majority of the Fuck Off Records oeuvre. This lines up the finest advocates of tuneless bashing within the UK late 70's underground: The 012, Danny and the Dressmakers, the Instant Automatons, The Door and the Window and finally the Sell Outs who seem to be Danny and the Dressmakers under a different moniker. The cut "Please Don't Make Another Bass Guitar Mr. Rickenbacker" showcases one of the odder qualities popular music can have: The ability to disorientate the listener. "Simply the very best in bad music" indeed! [Danny...Messthetics Greatest Hits]

4. Desperate Bicycles ? New Cross, New Cross (Refill Records, UK 1978) The godlike power of "I Make The Product" or "Advice On Arrest" (two of the songs on this six song EP) deliver a little salvation of sorts ? the Desperate Bicycles make you believe, make you feel a sense of belonging. Music does that when it is this good. 5.Slugfuckers ? Three Feet Behind Glass EP (No label Australia 1979) Invoke the god Nyarlathotep they do, cover Manson-songs w/o ever having heard him they do, shmear on the middle class art school elitism thick they do. This is an extreme record; noisier and more abrasive than most first generation industrial stuff, a hell of a lot more punk than, say, the Lewd and intelligent in a scary, vicious bullying kind of way. A blazing, hard record at the same time as everything is slightly out of tune, kind of inept and sorta shoddy sounding.

6. Popes -Knup In Your Eye (Vatican Records. UK 1980) This appeared on the worldwide punk list a few issues ago, and educated guesses can be made for this appearing on any other lists I might do in the future. Not only is the record the cats pajamas as far as relentless art school mirth goes (Derek & Clive go through puberty, again!) but the throb and spark of the band makes for repeated play. And then we have to tag on the swollen nostalgia of my friend buying the only copy at the Rough trade shop in 1980 leaving me with none until Bill Forsyth digs one up for me in his back room, oh yeah, and one for Geoffrey too.

7. The Flak -EP (Northern Records UK 1980 (?)) Starts with a depressed "why am I here" poem and moves straight along into "Knocking on Heaven's Door" done dorm-angst-diy-style. This is followed by what sounds like the band attempting a Joy Division-style song the first time they pick up musical instruments. Completely inept, utterly charming and brilliant indeed. Top shelf genre defining DIY.

8. Fatal Microbes -Beautiful Pictures (Small Wonder, UK 1979) Certainly the best record with Honey Bane on it. Charming, relentless punk-crazed homemade guitar crunch. The window of opportunity of the UK underground musicscene in the late 70's is clearly demonstrated here: I doubt the Fatal Microbes stupendous teen energy could have been nurtured in the world of merchandising deals and first-look demo A&R we live in today.

9. The Silver -Do You Wanna Dance (Black Label Finland 1980) The Silver -No More Grease (Black Label Finland 1979) A riddle wrapped inside an enigma etc. The band appears to be around 12 ? 13 years old. They hail from Finland where the trail grew cold a long long time ago. Maybe upon the release of the record. Pussy Galore without post-modern baggage. "Love Theme from the Snails" as performed by SPK. 12 year olds virtually destroying a recording studio captured on tape, not once but four times.

10. Instant Automatons -Peter Paints His Fence EP (Deleted Records UK 1980) More Fuck Off/Street Level-related sublime nonsense. The battle call is the track "People Laugh At Me Cuz I Like Weird Music" which states: "I was at a pub the other night, when a bunch of mods came in, they eyed me up, then they asked me: Hey man what's your scene? Are you a hippie a mod or a punk? Got a scooter or a motorbike? I can't understand why they burst out laughing when I told them the music I like, because: People Laugh At Me Cuz I Like Weird Music People just don't understand Why pay six pounds for an album when you can, listen to a weird noise band for free I had a girlfriend named Josephine, she liked Abba and the Bee Gees. She thought music was about lawyers and accountants, percentages and legal fees. Just the other night we stayed up late, playing records til half past ten, then I played the Danny and the Dressmakers tape and I never saw Josephine again, because: People Laugh At Me Cuz I Like Weird Music People just don't understand Why pay six pounds for an album when you can, listen to a weird noise band for free" The gospel, folks. From God's mouth to your ear via the Instant Automatons. [Instant Automatons 'Another Wasted Sunday Afternon' CD]

11. Sir Alick and the Phraser -In Search of the Perfect Baby (Black Noise UK 1980) As Chuck Warner put it: They wrote beautiful pop songs then destroyed them. More Homosexuals pseudonymous mystique. The intelligent reader who followed our previous musings on this band and their universe know how much we love them and how much they perpetually pull our collective leg. No straight-ahead answers in this lifetime which is fine ? fine as far as record collecting is concerned, fine as far as lifemanship is concerned.[The Homosexuals -Astral Glamour 3CD]

12. The Four Plugs -Biking Girl (Disposable Records UK 1979) The subtle charm of marginal culture: Truly marginal culture where 1000 singles were pressed more than 22 years ago. How many got lost? How many are never being played? How many are stored in a box in the attic? How many are being played repeatedly on turntables that cost ten times as much as the recording and pressing of this given 45? "She used to be my biking partner ? she used to be my biking girl. We used to go for rides in the country side". A true punk rock/diy statement issued by the Damaged Goods people, who knew their Chesterton and Thomas Browne.

13. The Evening Outs -Channel (Refill Records UK 1980) Super-fierce skronk from a pissed-off pseudonymous Desperate Bicycles. Puts that no wave stuff to shame, really.

14. Puritan Guitars -100 Pounds in 15 Minutes (Riverside Records UK 1980) How much it cost to make the record and how long it took. Genius sturm und sturm und sturm und drang clank from a seriously inspired one chord wonder.[Messthetics Greatest Hits and Messthetics #104]

15. The Flying Brix -EP (Modello Records UK 1980) So subtle it can barely be heard: A band consisting of Wally's and Erberts, with the odd dead-end yob or two. This record could've been released by Illegal, Fuck Off or fit in on Carry On Oi. It could also have been performed on an episode of Noddy or by Flanagan & Allen. Ur-English music, this.[Messthetics #104]

16. Shrinking Men/Beevers -Hazards in the Home EP (Pop Records UK 1981) The Beevers present a Guthrie-esque talking blues here, except that it isn't a blues, but a charming DIY-shuffle, and that Woody Guthrie as far as I know never sang about the plight and blight of the office boy. The Shrinking Men in turn showcase an angry, loutish anti-army rant that Phil Ochs would've been pretty proud of I think. And there you have it: The folk music connection rears its uncombed head. [Beevers -Messthetics #6]

17. Handgrenades -Demo To London (Phonographics (?) USA 1980 (?)) Coulda fooled me ? Excellent primitive punk/chug/diy from Noo Yak City! Who woulda thunk? Somewhere between "Pink Flag" and Fuck Off Records.

18. Homosexuals -You Are Not Moving The Way You Are Supposed To (Black Noise UK 1980 (?)) An untouchable band, and the lack of a retrospective isn't much of a crime in this house (I have lots of their records snicker snicker snicker) but in other people's houses it sure is. As if Gang of Four would've been any good, as if Wire would've immersed themselves in dub, as if indeed. Parallel universe chart toppers indeed. We all know that there is at least one world out there in the ultra-cosmos where the proverbial kids are kicking these jams daily. A truly inspired and inspiring record..[The Homosexuals -Astral Glamour 3CD]

19. Cindy and the Barbi Dolls -Press The Shutter EP (A Not Major Production UK 1980) Dorm angst at its very best. Dark, brooding overtly romantic without gothing it up, these jams have the same lurking power as the pre-Joy Division Warsaw EP or the spookier first line up Soft Boys tracks. A possible sister band to Beyond the Implode in the sense that they play a curiously British form of psychedelic music in the midst of the DIY lack of musical chops. This Cornwall band were seemingly very hip to musical peers, thanking the Desperate Bicycles, the Mekons and Ralph and the Ponytails on the sleeve. There are musical (and one lyrical) nod to the Kinks "Village Green Preservation Society" as well. A very good thing. [Messthetics #7]

20. Versatile Newts -Newtrition (Shanghai Records UK 1980) If this record hadn't existed we would've had to invent it: The marriage/blend of the Swell Maps, This Heat and the TV Personalities. In equal chunks with no lumps. Gadzooks! [Messthetics #103]

21. Pink Dirt -Hey Sir (No label Norway 1979) As far as inept, crazed joi de vivre goes ? Here's the acme. I've written this one up before and will do it again. While this is obviously a straight-ahead angry punk rock band, the abandon and enthusiasm of this record could raise the dead. An angry rant against organized religion ("I have this to say tonight ? never, never get involved with christianity!") howled in a barely English Johnny Rotten-imitation by some Norwegian genius backed by shitrock more primitive than the first Endless Boogie rehearsal. There is no sleeve, no labels, just the legend "Pink Dirt Hey Sir/Hooker" scrawled in magic marker. Who were these gods and why did they walk among us? Please email me if you know anything about the people behind this stunning art experience.

22. Scrotum Poles -Revelation EP (One Tone Records Scotland 1980) Helicopter Honeymoon is going to be played at least three record collector funerals I know of, not including mine. The mighty, mighty Scrotum Poles, proudly proclaiming "DIY! We love the TV Personalities" on the shoddy, xeroxed sleeve. Their website (http://home.switchboard.com/hornstreet) is highly recommended, though we're hesitant to vouch for its complete veracity. Here's how they tell it: "'Pick the Cats Eyes Out' featured lyrics found on the back of a set list by one of the first Dundee punk bands, Bread Poultice and the Running Sores..." [Somebody please send us a demo tape!] "Helicopter Honeymoon," meanwhile, came from a headline "in the Sunday Post." What we should add for American fans is that "cats eyes" are what Brits (and Scots) call those little orange reflectors embedded in highway pavement: "Cats Eyes Out Ahead" used to be a common roadside sign. [Messthetics Greatest Hits and Messthetics #105]

23. File Under Pop -Corrugate (Rough Trade UK 1979 (?)) Godlike DIY power. Primitive grunting, out of tune skeletal instrumentation and noises recorded at Heathrow. I know a guy with an extra copy who'll swap it for Butchy Butch and the Butch Butchers.

24. Nancy Sesay and the Melodaires -C'est Fab (It's War Boys UK 1981 (?)) Un-musical, un-punk and possibly unpleasant music hall-esque skronk/DIY by the godlike Homosexuals using one of their myriad of pseudonyms. And whence you can't imagine the doofus art wank getting any more unlistenable, they spin on a dime and throw in a beautiful chorus sitting on top of a backwardsy funky drummer beat. I am, as per usual, in awe. Shall I hook some enterprising young bootlegger up with a CDR of all their stuff?

25. Performing Ferret Band -Brow-Beaten (Dead Hippy Records UK 1981) Deeply moving primitive musical fumble from this rare 45 by the masters behind the in my mind most seminal LP to come out of DIY. The eponymous Performing Ferret Band LP, which features jaw-droppers such as "Plastic Macho Man", "Fizzly Drinks" or "Great Duos Of Our Time". Fantastic over-enthusiastic juvenilia of an almost supernatural beauty. The Performing Ferrets - no one told us CD (Messthetics #216)

26. Different Eyes/Royston - Shish EP (Tuzmadoner Records UK 1979) One of the two masterpieces released on the Tuzmadoner label (the other being a 12" comp entitled, uh, "folk music" bringing up more parallels to skiffle that we should probably choose to ignore). Royston are like Flanagan & Allen fronting the world's greatest shit rock band. Different Eyes sound more lethargic than anyone else I've heard I think, and I used to work for Pavement's label. Simon Gilham from either Royston or the 'Eyes later played in Colin Newman's solo band. [Royston -Messthetics Greatest Hits and #1; Different I's -Messthetics #101 (plus their even better track from Folk Music)]

27. Homosexuals -Hearts In Exile (Black Noise UK 1978) Words fail me. As far as beauty goes, this is like Mozart or Shirley Collins. Probably their greatest moment. Somewhere along the lines of Brill Building and traditional UK folk and the Upsetters and ESP Records all at once in perfect harmony. A milestone, I think, and a record that I'd place in a timecapsule of 20th century folk art.[The Homosexuals -Astral Glamour 3CD]

28. Andrew Klimek -Felt Hammer (Mustard Records USA 1979) The guitar break alone sends this one soaring over the sky scrapers. Has that patented and most beautiful basement 4-track sound down pat even though I get more and more convinced that all those legendary Cleveland bands all were record collector rock of the umpteenth degree. Extraordinarily self-aware, sly and with meticulously thought out records, this one being no exception. The pompous liner notes on the sleeve of the 45 proves me right. You got to be some kind of Apples in Stereo-type shmuck to brag on a record sleeve that you put the bass guitar through a ring modulator.

29. Mekons -Never Been In A Riot (Fast Records UK 1978) Way before they became icky hippy-punk icons for aging counter culture types across the world they released a couple of singles of gorgeous nihilist slop. This is the first, and the funniest and the noisiest.

30. Jelly Babies -De Nada EP (No label name UK 1981) Simply heaven. A clumsy speed-chug with lyrics about a day of roller-skating and lovely pre-pubescent boozy backing vocals. Genius. Extra-tinny sound, extra passionate execution. I've quoted this portion of the notes on the (shoddy xerox, natch) sleeve: "Recorded at Dirt Cheap Studios, the best studios in the whole wide world by Grant Showbiz, the most silly person in the whole wide world, who steals your food and has a nice red guitar with a super tremelo arm which somebody gave him." Like Blake, the words transcend space, time and mortality. You need this record. Crunchy granola collectors should also note that I have personally seen at least five different (shoddy xerox) picture sleeves for this record where the priority can be determined with relative accuracy using the carbon 14 method. [one from the EP is coming on London v.III: another song from the EP demos appears on Messthetics Greatest HISS (Messthetics #110)

31. Thin Yoghurts -Girl On the Bus (Lowther Street Runner Records UK 1980) More sing-a-longa-slop-charm. You can take the limey out of the music hall but you can't Cute, touching and romantic lyrics about lusting over some tasty lassie on the bus to the kippers factory. They did this record as well as a cassette, which is a hundred bucks in your sweaty palm, if you send it to me. [Messthetics Greatest Hits]

32. Lucky Pierre -This Could Be The Night (No label USA 1984 (?)) Scuzzy, phenomenal art-rant by some Ohio Bowie-boy who'd re-record these musical chairs of Chain Gang, Klaus Nomi and cocaine freebase ten years later for Trent Reznor's label adding a "industrial dance beat" to the mess and changing the band name to Prick. Supposedly (some record-log-pincher told me) there were only 50 copies pressed for Lucky Pierre to use as record deal bait (also the reason that the lyrics are etched on the flip together with a ten second excerpt of the song). Well, I guess it worked. I seem to recall seeing a video for the re-recorded version on MTV during ol' Pierre's 15 seconds in the spotlight. The awe-inspiring power of this record remains tho'.

33. Skabb -78 EP (Mistlur Sweden 1978) Track 2 side one is jaw-dropping Opus-style DIY-crunch punk with Kriminella Gitarrer-guitar breaks. I can't believe this isn't a hotly pursued record by herd-following punk rock turd-swallowers round the globe. Fantastic slop-o-rama-lama-fa-fa-fa production too.

34. V/A -Angst In My Pants double EP (Street Level UK 1979) Imagine how good the previous 33 records on this list are, as I guarantee by risk of punishment of rock writer hyperbole, that this is doubtlessly one of the finest records I've ever heard, and the second greatest compilation in the history of rock! How can I say this wonders Rutger the Punk from his bedroom in Krakow ? Well the proof is in the pudding: Not only does the record include some of the finest recorded moments by the legendary Instant Automatons (who unknowingly channel the Monks!), 012 and the Door and the Window, but furthermore a rare vinyl appearance by the Digital Dinosaurs, heralded by me, Mario and Geoffrey in that most smug sort of way as unheralded gods of music! If that ain't enough you get some fine TVP-related spurts from the Missing Persons and extremely do it yourself DIY frenzy from the Midnight Circus. Who in "Silicone Baby" and "Hedonist Jive" have out-poignanted a tow-truck full of Aimee Mann's and Michelle Shocked's edgy humanity and funny as shit to boot. [Digital Dinsaurs and Instant Automatons are on Messthetics Greatest Hits: Midnight Circus have their own CD...And there's more on Deleted/Street Level at the Instant Automatons website]

35. Pleemobielz -Dagenlang Balen (Kamikaze Records Holland 1981) More sociological sloganeering a la Midnight Circus here: Dagenlang Balen which needlessly translates as "fuck all day" roars through the speakers with all the might of a bunch of over-testosteroned 16 year old virgins singing about what they think it'll be like to have sex some day. Tinniest sound in history. When a copy finally showed up on my doorstep after the fucking (literally!) record had spent a solid 10 years on my want list my expectations were quite low since anyone I had talked to who had heard the record all stated that it was weak/a waste of time etc. Well: It being a want list staple has more to do with the scarcity of the disc than it being a desirable punk rock record. However: It is an extremely desirable record if frenzied DIY bliss is your chosen poison.

36. Just Urbain -Guns & Guitars (No label Australia 1979) Another amazing DIY record from Australia, this one definitely sports a spiritual kinship with SPK, the Slugfuckers, the first Thought Criminals record, and those Systematics and Tactics records I need to find. Very dark, scuzzy art-damaged DIY that (a la Cabaret Voltaire or early SPK) is well aware of the fine krautrock musics coming out of Germany on Ohr or Sky a few years previously. The proto punk of say Neu or Cosmic Jokers is here handled with poisonous skronky passion.

37. The Gags -Sex Ist Schau (Leg Auf Records Germany 1981) And then one has to simply wonder if the belly laughs generated by this piece of vinyl have racist connotations: How much are we allowed to laugh at the Germans? This might be the stiffest record I've heard. The vocals lyrical bark manages to reanimate Basil Fawlty's classic performance in the "Germans" episode as well as the Sprockets. The jams are crazed. Stiff, yes, but crazed.

38. Desperate Bicycles -Smokescreen (Refill Records UK 1977) Their debut, more aggressive than a lot of the other classics and maybe it was the year. This is the 45 that launched hundreds of others: Two songs on one side to save mastering costs, the cheapest packaging, music that had to be documented, and it didn't matter if it was done in the cheapest and easiest way imaginable. [Messthetics #8]

39. Butter Utter -Jävlarnas Jul (Leonid Breznjev Records Swe 1977) Took me ages to find this one. Extremely inept, Shaggs-like fumble with a certain Je Ne Sais Qui of punk rock aggression. A lot of Killed by Death-types paid a lot of moola for this one, that some guy hyped to the moon in a Boston straight-edge fanzine back in the 80's. Only truly "punk" in the musical disaster sense of the word.

40. Cut-Outs -DIY (EMI UK 1979) Great novelty pop monster complete with carpentry noises. Possibly not a DIY record at all, but since the genre is made up by people like me this is a DIY record cuz I sez so. [NOT on Messthetics #7]

41. Massmedia ? EP (Massproduktion Swe 1979) Debut sloppiness from future KBD mainstays. There is no discernable musical ability to be found on this record and yet they play and play and play. The energy level is however awe-inspiring.

42. Dagens Ungdom -EP (Mistlur Swe 1980) Having an art school wank with Dagens Ungdom. Brilliant faux-DIY released on one of the major noo wave era indie labels of Sweden, home of Ebba Gron. All songs have titles nabbed from Kafka books, lyrics are more adjective heavy than a tub full o' Morrisey and the music is flawless DIY stumble n' fumble.

43. The Discounts -Selling Records (Original Records UK 1980) Blank 1000-yard stare DIY novelty straight out of High Fidelity. The lyric is a monologue as by a bored-to-tears record store clerk. The jams are sub-sub-sub-Blockheads DIY stumble. Extremely amusing.

44. Grinder Wickford's So Boring -EP (Wax Records UK 1979) Forget punk rock, bring in hick-rock! The aliases of the band read: "Dav-Id, Si-Kic, Terry-Ball, Stu-Pid and Holy-Grail"!. Three band members have moustaches! The singer is wearing a Rocky Horror t-shirt! The a-side is a "humorous" ditty about the acne problem of Spiderman, reflecting the sleeve front depicting some fool in a Spiderman costume driving a tractor, The b-side is an anti-fuzzy dice song. Genius. It is obvious to me that Wickford wasn't boring at all as long as you hung out with the bold gents of Grinder. The songs range from primitive clunky riff-rock to DIY jangle of the highest order. Messthetics #101

45. Psykik Volts -Totally Useless (Ellie Jay Records UK 1979) More Music Hall-punk DIY genius. The spirit of Vivian Stanshall is looming large; as is the empty pint glasses littering the room as this 45 is stuck on repeat. All together now: "It's to-tal-ly useless"!! The sleeve bears the legend: "Side A: recorded in a sock, Side B: recorded in a morgue. May god bless vocalist and songwriter Victor Vendetta. Now pardon me while I go to the corner and cry.

46. Raisinets -More Fun To Play Than To Listen To (Fun-Ethic Records USA 1979) Fantastic record-collector hippie-punk a la Gizmos/Afrika Korps/Half Japanese. Primitive guitar duets complete with questionable production values and mucho muchacho helpings of pure static. Great post-arrest pre-OD lyrics making fun of Sid too.

47. Dag Vag -Dimma (Ball Records Swe 1978) Two years after this record was released, Dag Vag were playing new wave-scented white-boy reggae to sell-out crowds all over Sweden. This, however, is a one-man band bedroom project by a Träd Gräs & Stenar roadie who had discovered punk rock and the DIY scene. Beautiful dark/sinister home studio atmospherics, killer fuzz guitar and demented lyrics about psychiatric care and drug experiences. A great record. And by all means: Don't buy any other Dag Vag records after you've obtained this one.

48. I Jog & the Tracksuits - Redbox (Tyger Label UK 1978) More lost artform unique stumble-rumble from the UK. Sounds like it was recorded under water this one. A petty miracle of a pop tune with a sublime lyric about waiting for the bus. Gotta bless em for the stamina it takes to get a record out: Recording, Mixing, Mastering, Designing, Printing, Approving, Distributing, Balancing. All to get a little song about missing the bus heard by me 22 years later.

49. Injections -Prison Walls (Radioactive Records USA 1980) This has always been an extremely desired and expensive record in KBD/Japanese Tasty/Moustache circles, and it doubtlessly deserves its inflated price tag even though we aren't talking chainsaw-buzz punk rock per se here.

50. Devils Hole Gang -Free The People (Slow Burning Fuse Records UK 1979) Huge moustaches, huge choruses, and a record that sounds like it was recorded inside one of those Moroccan hotel showers that basically consist of a huge tube of aluminum siding. My pretentious nature is such that I feel forced to unleash the folk art metaphor for this again. If your friendly neighborhood rare record dealer charges you a couple of C-notes for this and you feel like your being had for big G's by the sleaze, then remember that you are investing in art, not buying a record!!

51. Funboy Five -Life After Death (Cool-Cat Daddy-O Records UK 1980) A pure pop record indeed, but where pricey production values would've turned this into a memorable Stiff Records 45, the band's lack of bucks and resulting throwaway/enthusiasm production and energy has created a masterpiece. Both sides are stalwarts for a neighborhood sing-song or a rousing music hall chorus. Punk rock music hall: A genre waiting to happen again! [Messthetics #101]

52. How To Get Rich In Rotterdam - Dapper Dan (Vormgeving Rotterdam Records Netherlands 1981) Brilliant, plodding art-slop that reeks of inside jokedom. This record is a reason unto itself to pay ebay prices for vintage drum machines.

53. Come -Come Sunday (Come Organization UK 1979) Before William Bennett became the Benny Hill of industrial noise, his band Whitehouse were called Come and released a single and an album which both are quite lovely homemade art-dirge crankiness, a friendly psychedelic kind of crankiness indeed.

54. The Riotous Brothers -Vicki's Dancing (Riotous Records 1980) How all these disparate bands came up with a sound this cohesive is a mystery to me. Any of the hints handed to us through fanzines and interviews only mess things up further: Yes, anyone could form a band, make a record, start a record label indeed. Where it gets weird is why so many of them harbor a similar tinny guitar sound, cardboard-y drums, messy synths, inept recording techniques, smart-assed lefty lyrics and nasal singing tone. This was not a movement. It was just a bunch of stuff that happened. That's all. This record has the beautiful simplicity of a Shaker chair or a Maine seafood soup. The swanky speedpunk of "Operation Zero" or the plink-a plunk-a guitar solo on "Emotional Cripple" will some day have their own wing at the Victoria and Albert museum. Make my art primitive!

55. Partizans -Goods (A-Noyz Records UK 1980) Chain Gang's retarded English cousins. Ace!!

56. Amor Fati -Economics 100 (Yuck/Flesh Records USA 1984 (?) Very angry anti-r&r/anti-big-business slightly tongue in cheek rant that shows spiritual kinship to "Rat City" by the Art Attacks. Vertical Slit/V-3. The odd blend of wanting in, wanting to play the game and wanting to stay the fuck away that is symptomatic for a lot of Ohio underground musicians (Shepard, Hummel, House etc.)

57. Desperate Bicycles -Skill (Refill Records UK 1978) Blazing DIY-shuffle and unmistakenly Bicycles. More pro production which has this one slip further down the list. Still godlike though.

58. Sarah Coffman -Titta Jag Ar Död (Konkurrenz Rekårdz Sweden 1980) Excellent primitive shit-rock by band from my hometown!

59. Hornsey At War -Deadbeat Revival EP (War Product UK 1979) Extremely amusing ultra-sloppy DIY. No discernable production values, sound-as-filtered-through-ground-beef, emotionally charged out-of-tune vocals, crackly guitar (broken cable?) and a true aura of dead end yobs (and jobs) instead of the more common middle class art school vibe as prevailing on most DIY records. Hornsey At War are complaining about English radio too: "They won't play this record on the radio because it poses a threat!" Here tis again: That charming blend of hubris and defeatist that seems to penetrate the psyches of most people involved in underground music and/or collectors of it.

60. Take It -How It Is (Fresh Hold UK 1979) Stunning out of control DIY/noise not unlike a more frenzied Soft Boys, a more good Gang of Four or a less psychotic SPK. Igor and Simon seem like a couple of gents with some hardcore political and intellectual pursuits, and like the Desperate Bicycles before them I sense that the choice of releasing a noisy cheaply recorded 45 with a xerox cover was an act of some sort of political defiance, back in the day where such an act was not co-opted from the ground up by extreme sports and Wall Mart hair dye. [Messthetics Greatest Hits and Messthetics #2]

61. Rough Cuts EP (Z-Block Records UK 1980) Inspired sampler of four bands (The Boywonders, The Ghoulies, The Czechs and the Decadent Few) two of which tell us their age on the cover (The Boywonders are all 16, The Czechs are all 17). Humbling thought that such musical spirit could be mustered at such a tender age. Great variety of flavors too: The Boywonders great inept, spooky DIY strut where the band might think that a reggae influence is prevailing, us knowing that the stumbleblock shuffle bears more resemblance to ancient Celtic airs, the unbearable beauty of the Czechs utter disregard of tone, meter and signatures or the Ghoulies oddly Booker T-esque chug n' scrape. The business, all and all. [Boywonders and Czechs on Messthetics #104: The Z-Block Story is here]

62. The Petticoats -Normal (Bla-Bla-Bla Records UK 1980) Ripping good-kind-feminist anti-normalcy rant. Spiritually uplifting in a way not dissimilar to first-hand experience of medieval church architecture, I shit you not. Recorded at Street Level which means that this record is Fuck Off Records related.

63. Reducers -We Are Normal (Vibes Product UK 1978) The sub genre Geoff Weiss-punk is hereby coined to describe this record. High-energy ineptitude. There is a strange kinship to the Pink Fairies/Deviants axis on this record ? A similarity in energy and attack, notwithstanding that the Reducers really don't know how to play their instruments very well. [Messthetics #1]

64. Il Ya Volkswagens - Kill Myself (Mechanical Reproductions UK 1981) One more year in the rehearsal space for these guys and I wouldn't be writing this. Discernable elements of gothrock and Bauhaus influence can be noticed as a faint vapor in this aural air to speak it in goth-speak, the crunch of the slightly sour guitar, the plodd of the (genius) bass line and the all-in slouch of the lethargic vocalist and the cracked-everyday electronics elevates this dirge into an 18 carat DIY-cruncher.

65. Quite Ridiculous Nonsense -Identity Crisis (No Label USA 1984) Most ace industrial wank of that rare late 70's variety. Wildly entertaining experiments in four track flatulence and transistor radio static.

66. Pervers/Deutscher Abschaum split 7" (Suff Productions Germany 1984) The Godhead. Reminds me of Teddy and the Fratgirls or the Foams in the sense that one gets the notion that these must have been fun gals to hang out with or date. The timeless splendor of the arty urban misfit girl: Her goofy charm and no-holds-barred enthusiasm for all that she found weird, interesting or sexually appetizing. A toast to the art school weirdo outcast girls of the world: May they forever paint their room black or read Hermann Hesse to you in bed! The music is wild, out of control amateuristic slop goes from Electric Eels fuzzed out haterock to drumkits thrown down the stairs to minimal teen-angst and then back. Beautiful stuff. Got this in trade from Thurston Snore for some boring free jazz records back in the day. What a chump!

67. The Prats -Disco Pope (Rough Trade UK 1979) 15-year old Scottish schoolboy punks seething with rage over the demon disco. Early Downliners Sect-style one chord R&B shuffle complete with the drum breaks that made God decide not to spare humanity. Don't miss it!

68. Plast -EP (Stranded Rekords Swe 1979) Four song EP of the finest in teenage punks attempting to embrace the confusion in their head from listening to TG, Cabaret Voltaire and Pere Ubu. An ungodly racket where the hostility of the chosen sounds meets the cozy ineptitude of the random noises. Plenty of short-wave noises and the crappiest of synths. Utterly charming.

9. Raincoats -Fairytale in the Supermarket (Rough Trade UK 1979) All enthusiasm/zero chops Ubu-esque DIY-charm from these stunning ladies. This is the best of their many records. Some kinda CD anthology that I can't find right now was released in the USA on the basis of Kurt Cobain being a big fan.

70. Tone Deaf and the Idiots -Why Does Politics Turn Men Into Toads? (Blue Angel UK 1979) Tone Deaf and the Idiots how do I love thee. This flexi is taken from their debut album Catastrophe Rock which still stands alongside the Damian & the Criterions "Avant Garde", Alvaro's Drinking My Own Sperm and Kräldjursanstalten's Voodoo Boogie as peerless monuments of original thought as far as late 70's underground albums are concerned. Catastrophe rock indeed. This is what "Music from the Big Pink" would've sounded like if it had been performed by the Portsmouth Sinfonia.

71. Desperate Bicycles -Grief Is Very Private (Refill UK 1980) One of the mighty Bicycles more introspective and subtle moments. Their entire recorded output is well worth hearing, and the range of emotions they paint from their palate quite astounding.

72. Door and the Window -I Like the Sound (NB Records UK 1979) One of many brilliant anti-music art school rants by the grand old daddies of the very genre. They like sound, they don't like the Pop Group, they like noise (um yeah!), they don't like butter The list goes on and I can't say that I reached any enlightenment as such by the end of this demented scratchy noise-fumble. But the journey sure was great.

73. Slugfuckers -Instant Classic (PRS Australia 1979) Homosexuals-y whiteguy funk/noise fracture that Liquid Liquid would've been pretty stoked about. Screeching scrape and dumb jokey asides. Who could ask for anything more?

74. Happy Cadavers -Nothing New (Undefined Records UK 1982) Punk/wave slop from the Midwest ? kind of aims for the Stranglers but hits Small Wonder Records. Charming stuff. Give me a fake English accent any day.

75. The Reflections - 4 Countries (Cherry Red UK 1981) Coulda been by the Desperate Bicycles this: stop/start gurgling plodding slop with most excellent Mark P. whining on top. Patented Karl Blake crumble-o-rific drumming not to mention the ambience added by the illustrious Nag of Door and the Window celebrity status. The Reflections album is well worthy of your grease as well as it is more of the same DIY-gunk but with a more contempo Recommended Records-type sound. [Messthetics #1]

76. Reacta -Stop the World (Battery Operated Records UK 1979) Another one that demands the Desperate Bicycles as cultural cookie cutter ? A beautiful ramble with the edgy guitars of Hilton Bomber-Thought Criminals.[Messthetics Greatest Hits]

77. Crash Action Winners - Hurricane Fighter Plane (Sonic International UK 1979) Somewhere in this mess of static and filtered mud are the chord-change(s) of "Hurricane Fighter Plane". The sleeve hints at the band being American, the sounds point straight in the direction of an English middle class art school, and the record cover furthermore defines them as a bunch of record collectors to boot. Not only is a Roky Erickson tune given the same crap-o-riffic sonic treatment, but the shoddy crumb-bum picture sleeve showcases record covers by the Seeds, the 13th Floor Elevators, Russ Meyer and Question Mark and the Mysterians displayed in tasteful collage form. Messthetics #104

78. The Plastic Mechanical Pig -Book Brains (IX Recording Company Japan 1981) Tricky one here, Ricky and Paul, the two guys on the cover of the PMP 45, look like a couple of student teachers and the record sounds like a couple of student teachers recorded a Raisinets/Half Japanese hybrid on a primitive 4 track. Charming record this, with two folky DIY-punk cuts, but why on earth was it released in Japan?

79. V/A - Mell Square Musick EP (Yaw Records UK 1979) I've listened to this record a good dozen times or so, and my jaw still drops. Frenzied homemade punk where the energy could light up a medium-size town. Similar to the Tandstickorshocks, Seems Twice or Red Cross "Born Innocent" LP in its instinctive disregard for notes, chords and melody, the Accused or the 021 are more than deserving of particularly exquisite golden wings in the halls of the Valhalla of Amateurism. I bow my head. [Cracked Actor Messthetics #7; Accused and 021 - Messthetics #103]

80. Tandstickorshocks - Allan Vogalan (King Kong Records Holland 1980) The Dutch Puritan Guitars right here, it is almost spooky how similar the sound of the two bands is. Spinning these 45's makes me wonder if this music somehow managed to sidestep rock & roll and the black music tradition as a core influence. There is something about the Tandstickorshocks which at the same time manages to remind me of Schoenberg, microtonal composers and Irish tin-whistle folk music. This is, needless to say, evidence that I should get out more often, but also that these slices of true-life counterculture juvenilia are not isolated from a cultural context, but embracers of it. Even if it did take a couple of decades for these records to be collected in some kind of organized manner. The kids in Tandstickorshocls must have been aware of Wire and the Young Marble Giants, but the minimal primitive music they create is original in the same manner as the artists on Pat Conte's "Secret Museum of Mankind" compilations.

81. Foams - Paint Me (Pet Me Quick Records USA 1981) A classic of sorts. Frenzied, inept live recordings by this all-girl Austin Texas punk band. The only way that I can explain the similarities to the Slits or the Raincoats are that gals sure have a different way of looking at things, or at least playing drums. Great smutty lyrics and barky art-school vox too.

82. SST -Clutch On the Ward (Tidal Wave Records USA 1977) Super-inept hippie punk/DIY from California with lotsa early punk scenesters name-checked on the sleeve. Ted Falconi pre-Flipper on guitar.

83. The Simple Approach to Newtown Products EP (NTP Records UK 1980) My approach was to pay the inflated price the dealer was asking and happily walk home with this great record. 4 songs, four bands: Crimedesk are toilet-recorded DIY-slop, Basic Unit must be the most amateuristic goth band I've ever heard, Beat Necessity showcase only the finest in tuneless death-dirge with off-key howling and Story So Far is an awesome Joy Division/Factory Records attempt, but with no discernable musical talent. Needless to say, the whole EP is as charming as the day is long.

84. Hörförståelse -Förläst Jävel (CTR Sweden 1980) Demented art skronk of drums, bass and crap keyboards featuring out of tune vocals regurgitating about someone being an over-educated bastard. Perfect, really. A must for fans of primitive shit music.

85. What To Wear - Casual But Smart EP (Basic and Typical Records UK 1980 (?)) Inspired stumble as an attempt to play dub, The Homosexuals can do it ? These guys can't. I don't know if this given failure brought about something new, but this record is a very listenable stab at atmosphere by a DIY band with limited budget and equipment. The flip also contains a couple of amazing speed-pop DIY-rambles. [ Messthetics #104]

86. Contact -Future (Object Music UK 1979) An avantfied klutz by a band who probably wanted to be Tubeway Army one thinks as one gazes upon the sleeve. They move from sloppy pro-rock attempts to full-on art-noise to excellent DIY jingle and jangle. One of many excellent items on the Object label. [ Messthetics #106 and Messthetics #7]

87. Good Missionaries -Deranged in Hastings (Unnormality Records UK 1979) A great stop/start hiccup with the patented GM/ATV tinny guitars and peripheral production. What makes this stand out is that barely concealed aggression, like a slow fuse or something.

88. The Potent Human EP (L'Aventure Records UK 1980) I maintain, and not only because of my middle class lifestyle, that the Bathroom Renovations is the greatest band name in the history of rock. This EP is a four out of four winner. Brilliant DIY fumble from The Mekon (no relation), The Liggers , The Spurtz and the ultra-wah-wah power of the Bathroom Renovations. Let me type that again: Bathroom Renovations. [Liggers: Messthetics #106]

89. Disco Zombies -Here Comes the Buts (Dining Out Records UK 1980) This is my favorite of their three spectacular singles. Thw thuick brogue of an accent blends in a most interesting way with the crappy guitar and dull throb of the melody line or the voluptous Steve Severin-style bass line.

90. Record Players -Double C Side EP (Wreckord Records UK 1978) The Record Players came from Kent, which mustered a bit of a mod scene a couple years later, but otherwise wasn't much of a factor in the punk (or DIY) world. Here they've mustered up an anti-MOR rant with a chorus that comes off kind of, eh, MOR-sounding. Imagine the classic DIY trashing, bashing and gnashing, but with one big ol' chorus, and the most obvious bridge you'll ever hear. "Ignore Us" on the flip is self-defeatist art that'll piss all over any Magnetic Fields as far as smug self-hatred goes. "It's just one thing you gotta do if you want to move along, ignore the music and ignore this song ? Ignore us and we might go away". How about that. [Messthetics #1]

91. Boys and Girls Come Out and Play EP (Boys and Girls Records UK 1980) Might be a grade school project this one, and not an art school project. Bands like the Human Cabbages, The Profile and The Famous Five are very young sounding. The fragile beauty of these tunes remind me of the UK Voice of the People anthologies of field recordings of folk songs. The purity, private nature of the songs and homemade-ness makes for a truly intimate, moving listening experience. The people on this record should be proud of this slice of juvenalia 20-odd years later.[Profile -Messthetics #103 -also a Human Cabbages song]

92. False Idols -Ego Wino (Old Knew Wave Records UK 1980) Paul Morotta's unknown English nephews. This could be a Poli Styrene Jass Band outtake. Great, spazzy DIY with jazzy chording and great, supressed aggression.

93. Bandage -Republik (Bandage Records Sweden 1978) Seems as if the average age of the band members is 16 or so, and that the mere existence of this record points to the purest and most blissfully unaware state of do it yourself: Some kids in a suburb of Stockholm getting turned on by punk rock and the notion of releasing their own record. The four songs are all fuzzed out riff rock, not unlike say, the Crucified EP, but the poor quality of recording, sound separation, levels and what have you is why the record is mentioned on this list. Not that any of that was done on purpose, mind you, for any DIY-ethic of sorts. Necessity and gratification and all that good stuff.

94. 49 Americans -Big Value (NB Records UK 1979) Another hidden Fuck Off Records release? The 49 Americans certainly moved in the same circles, and furthermore share plenty of aesthetic choices with Danny and the Dressmakers or the Instant Automatons. This record consists of 14 short blasts of fuzz punk meets art wank and is absolutely brilliant.

95. Gods Gift -925 (New Market Records UK 1979) Three tuneless tunes of the finest in fuzzed-out death-dirge DIY-slop. Kilslug jamming with the Door and the Window.[Messthetics #106]

96. Mud Hutters -Declaration EP (Defensive Records UK 1979) Mud Hutters ? Information EP (Dead Good Records UK 1979) Truly original band this. Somewhere in a Heartwork Records/Rock In Opposition neighborhood, but with a real Safe As Milk-crunch. There are psych elements on both these records, moments of blistering punk rock, and a generous infusion of the Desperate Bicycles (or Thought Criminals) ethics and esthetics. Fantastic records, and mandatory listening for any fan of the underground music of the late 70's era. Unfortunately, their subsequent album isn't great. By that time the band got Gang of Four damage.[ Messthetics #106: a track from their first EP is on Messthetics Greatest Hits]

97. Horrible Nurds -Consuming Passion (Half Wombat Records UK 1980) Oddly enough, this record sounds a hell of a lot like early Problem (Sweden) on the a-side, with the b-side being Tim Rose backed by ATV in a fantastic art-rock/DIY howler In that lost art form kind of way.

98. Reptile Ranch -Animal Noises EP (Z Block Records UK 1980) Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 (one of the most under-rated bands of the last 15 years says I and ponder an upcoming UT article) are here channeled way before they even were formed by some UK art school kids. Fantastic Beefheart-y R.I.O-hybrid DIY. Passionate, crude and obnoxious, sending this record to the top shelf of any record room! [Messthetics Greatest Hits]

99. Freiwillige Selbstkontrolle - EP (Zick Zack Records Germany 1980) Ace generic DIY/punk that could've been at home on an early Rough Trade 45.

100. The Rutto - Ei Paluuta (Ikbals Records Finland 1983) Figured I'd seal the circle with this one: A record as stupendous as "Medium Was Tedium" and as prominently throwing all the weight of the DIY-aesthetic on us, the listeners. The Rutto seem to be your 1983 run-of-the-mill small town punk rockers, and this 45 is generic, frantic buzzsaw guitar 2-chord punk. The magic with this one, however, is that in between the choca-blocks of teen nihilism is a noticeable sense of wonder and joi de vivre oozing thru' the grooves, or maybe I am just getting old and sentimental. Thanks for reading.

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frenchy-and-the-sea · 5 years

Text

SC - Turning Page

Original Fiction Prompt: The way they look after a rough night. Project: Seven Cities Word Count: 2570 Warnings/Tags: None

This was technically in response to an ask prompt, but I grew so fond of it that I decided to give it a post of its own. It’s been a while since I felt the heartbeat in a piece. I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. God, it feels good to enjoy it again.

Mood music that caught me when I was working on this piece: [The Boy’s Gone]

———–

There were three patrons still left on the Fairfield Inn’s meager tavern floor.

One was a young man that had stumbled in not long after sunset, and had spent the entire night nursing himself into a drunken, heartbroken stupor. One was a grimy older gentleman with hard eyes and a manner of falling into his cup that suggested that he’d been doing so for quite a while now. And the last, tucked into the furthest corner table, was Tahir, watching the pair of them as he pretended not to watch the door.

The rest of the crew had retired to their suite of rented rooms nearly an hour ago. Adelina had been the last to go, convinced to stagger her way upstairs only by Myrine’s coaxing and the yawning that she had done a miserable job of hiding. She had fought both for as long as she could stand, then had loomed over Tahir’s table with strict instructions that he was to wait for their captain’s return. If he couldn’t, she told him, he was to wake her. Immediately, she had said.

He had laughed at the time, saluted her, given her his best “aye, aye” and then waved her into Myrine’s care. Now the tavern was almost properly empty, the moon had passed well overhead, and Tahir was beginning to think that there might be some cause for her worry.

He took an absent swig off of his tankard and let his gaze slide back to the door. Alex was private, sure, but she rarely went off without warning. Rarely went off in general; when there was no work to be done, she was usually more inclined to watch her crew from close quarters than she was to assume that they knew how to behave like civilized folk. But he had spent the entire night among them, drinking and dicing and losing card games to Davin, and not once had he seen so much as a single swishing coattail of….

Almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, the door of the inn swung open, and Alex Sheffield shouldered her way inside.

“Well now,” Tahir called from across the room, tucking his relief neatly behind a casual lean into his chair. “Kind of you to show your face around us again, captain! You might’ve said something before we -”

He broke off as Alex turned to face him. Wherever she had been all night had clearly taken its toll. She looked a proper mess, sagging beneath with the weight of a finely embroidered blue coat that Tahir recognized as Finn’s. She usually kept it on retainer for whenever she needed to look particularly stately, but now it hung open, at a slovenly angle that revealed the stained work shirt that she wore underneath. Her hair had been pulled out of its braided tail and trailed over her shoulder in a messy tangle, and there was an unhealthy wreath of pale red and bruise purple around her eyes. When she stopped walking to glare at him, Tahir saw her sway hard enough to have to catch herself on a nearby chair.

He was on his feet almost before he realized it.

“Merciful Lord, Alex,” he said, threading a path quickly around the tables towards her, “you look like hell. Are you alright? Christ, what happened -”

“Fucksake, be quiet.”

Tahir froze halfway through a step. Alex was slurring. Her normal cadence was a drawl, certainly, but always the deliberate sort, and always understandable to his ear. Only great need of sleep made her words run together. Sleep, or…

Frowning, Tahir took a few more steps forward, then recoiled as the nose-searing odor of alcohol met him.

“You’re drunk,” he said softly. Alex’s face twisted into a grimace.

“Brilliant notice,” she sneered. “Ought to let you ride a yard, eyes like that.”

Scowling, she tried to stagger her way past, and Tahir moved quickly to intercept her. By her own design, Alex had only been properly drunk a precious few times in her life. Tahir had been around to see all but one of them, and knew better than to let her wander.

“Easy, lad,” he said, as she buried a shoulder into him in an effort to shove past. “Easy. Come and sit a spell, hey? Stairs will be the death of you right now.”

Alex grumbled something incomprehensible under her breath, but let herself be led back towards Tahir’s table. Even staggering drunk, she seemed to know that she couldn’t best Tahir in a matter of strength. He silently praised whatever God was looking out for him for that.

She took a seat opposite him, scowling and sullen as Tahir waved the tavern keeper down.

“Water,” he muttered to the man, with the hopes that Alex wouldn’t hear. He had apparently burned clean through whatever remained of his luck, however; when he looked up again, Alex was glaring at him.

“My mum’s been gone a while now,” she growled. “I think I don’t need you to start playing her.”

“‘Course not,” said Tahir, rolling his eyes. “But I’ve been on the bottle often enough to know what comes in the morning. It’s one of the few things I’ve more experience with than you. You don’t want that, Alex. And I sure as shit don’t want to see you suffer it.”

The tavern keeper returned then, setting two mugs onto the table in front of him. Tahir nodded his thanks, and then pushed both across the table.

“Drink.”

He braced himself for another argument; even sober, Alex always had some toothless insult or slight against his character ready, often just for the fun of it. Instead, he watched as she stared fixedly at the tankards for a long, silent moment, then slowly reached out and took the first one.

“Right,” she said quietly. “You’re right, of course. Sorry.”

She reeled the mug close, bearing it like a cross against her chest and taking sullen sips as Tahir stared back. It was as if every ounce of fight had been leached out of her at once, replaced with a quiet melancholy that she seemed suddenly resigned to. If he had been concerned before, he was truly, properly worried now.

He waited until she had gotten through about half of the mug before he tried speaking again.

“Alex -”

“He’s here, you know.”

The interruption came without preamble, as Alex stared hard down at the table in front of her. Tahir’s brow furrowed.

“Who’s here, lad?”

“Why, Mr. Edward Sheffield, of course.” She stole a look at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled grimly. “Recently relocated and fully engulfed in the dockside merchant business once more. A grand coincidence, ain’t it?”

She took another draw off of her mug as Tahir blinked in surprise.

“Your father?” he asked, bewildered. “Your father is here?”

“Aye. Him, along with a wife and a new brat between them, aged six. The whole fucking family.”

She didn’t bother hiding the bitter edge in her voice this time, and Tahir felt his frown curl deeper. Alex had been quits with her father a year or two before they’d met, but what little she had shared told Tahir that their separation had been more amicable on his end than hers. Relieving himself of responsibility for her had apparently been very easy indeed.

“Where did you see them?” he asked after a moment. Alex gave a short laugh, dry and humorless.

“At their home,” she said, leaning forward to prop her chin against a hand. “I joined them for dinner, in fact! Was invited just this very morning, after Mr. Sheffield caught sight of me at the dockside. His wife is apparently very keen on cooking for guests.”

Tahir watched, silent, as Alex drained the last of her mug in a motion that seemed too familiar on her by half.

“So you went along,” he said when she reached for her second cup.

“I did.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” She leaned back in her chair again, making a grand gesture out of her shrugging. “Not a God damned fucking thing. It was as if I was a client, come ‘round to be entertained for an evening. He told me of the move, of his work, about a hundred stories of all of the things his beloved son had been up to. Managed to talk his way all through till dessert, then thought to ask what I’d managed in the last seven years.”

The reminder apparently made itself a knife-twist in Alex’s gut; she grimaced, and then hid the look behind the lip of her tankard.

“I didn’t actually tell him about the Service, mind,” she went on after a moment, very quietly. “Thought talk of a desertion might end with more than a ruined dinner. Told him I’d taken up sailing though. That I had some command of a ship. You know what he asked me?” She snorted. “He asked the name of the captain I’d married, from whom I’d taken command.”

“Christ,” said Tahir, with so much withering disgust that Alex very nearly smiled. The look didn’t hold though, and almost at once, she returned to staring down at her tankard, absently swirling the water inside.

“I’m not a fool. I know my having anything like command on the Ranger is an unusual thing, mostly taken thanks to you, and Dav, and a host of sailors who didn’t have any better choices. I don’t expect it’s always understood. But, Christ.” She took Tahir’s tone on the word, a burst of mingled revulsion and anger. “He didn’t even entertain the notion, Tahir. Not for a moment. I was doing sums and consulting navigational charts when I was ten. He taught me the bloody arts! And even then, even with all of that, still…”

Her voice got very small then, and sunk low into her chair, Alex suddenly looked as tiny as Tahir had ever seen her. He watched in silence as she worried her lip against the edge of her still-full tankard, turning over what she’d said, what he’d seen. Then he scoffed.

“Is your father blind?”

The question caught Alex so off guard that she could do nothing but blink and stare up at him for a few long seconds.

“What?”

“Blind,” Tahir said again, louder this time. “From squinting down at little pieces of paper and all of those tiny numbers and some such. Surely he must be, because I can find no better explanation for how he could take even one single look at you and think that you’d do anything on board a ship but strut around and bark orders at men twice your size.”

Alex’s mouth twitched, the barest ghost of a smile, and Tahir saw her roll her eyes to cover the little huff of laughter that had escaped her. Emboldened, he pressed on.

“In fact, I’d say blind is not nearly good enough a reason. A man might hear you and know your standing! Certainly, he is blind, deaf and mad as well. Or at least doesn’t know a damn thing about you.”

By now, Alex was laughing quietly to herself, trying desperately to tuck it behind a hand.

“No,” she said, around her not-laughter, “no, I imagine he doesn’t.”

“I’d like to think I do, though.” Tahir leaned back in his seat, casual in a way that his words weren’t. “And you know what I think? All mishaps and faults aside - and Almighty hell, there’s been a lot of them - I think there is no one on God’s green earth that could have lead as unholy an expedition, or commanded as unruly a ship as the Ranger, with as much grace and dignity as Alex Sheffield.”

Alex’s snickering vanished easily behind a hand now, and she fixed him with a look so hard and narrow that he felt it in his bones. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then repeated the motion a few more times for good measure, silently trying to mash her sense into something resembling coherence. Tahir stifled a little grin. Sincerity always ruffled Alex, needled her low opinion of humanity until she couldn’t form the sentences necessary to argue. She’d left him little option otherwise, though. She wouldn’t have listened to anything that she considered coddling, and her father was still her father, his miserable idiocy notwithstanding. Renouncing him would have done as much good as agreeing.

Still, she had been through well enough today already; Tahir could abide giving her a break.

“Of course,” he said after a moment, “the actual amount of grace and dignity involved is still something of a debate….”

Now the grin came, wry and too quick to hide behind a hand. Snorting, she kicked halfheartedly at him under the table.

"I’ll not hear talk of grace from a man that cannot walk ten paces belowdecks without running headfirst into a beam.”

“Ha! You mistake my talents for flaws.”

They traded barbless insults and blows deliberately aimed to miss underneath the table, stopping only when Alex nearly toppled out of her seat going after Tahir’s shin. She righted herself carefully, suddenly aware of the dubious relationship that she currently had with gravity.

“I’m for bed, I think,” she said when she had steadied herself again, gripping the edge of the table. “I’ve likely worried Ade enough.”

“Oh, you have,” said Tahir. “She threatened me, you know. Said that I was to stay on watch until you returned. And that I should wake her if I couldn’t. Or else, she said.”

"Did she?” Alex stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I ought to stay, then. Hide in a corner, wait to see how you fare against her. That would certainly lift my spirits.”

“You are cruel indeed to make me suffer the wrath of a scorned woman, lad.”

Alex gave a deep bow that nearly sent her staggering to the floor. When she found her feet again, Tahir chuckled and pushed her still-full tankard of water across the table. She rolled her eyes, but took it without a fight.

“You’ll tell your lady that I followed her orders, won’t you?” Tahir asked over a shoulder as Alex shuffled past him on the way to the stairs.

“I’ll consider it,” came the reply, not far behind him. Tahir grinned to himself, then leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. She sounded better, at least. No amount of sneering at her father’s expense would fix quite everything, but at least her slurring was only the drunkard’s sort now.

“Tahir.”

He glanced over his shoulder and found Alex stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to the rooms above. Her hand had a shaky, white knuckled grip on the railing, but she stood tall.

“Get to bed,” she said. Now Tahir rolled his eyes, turning pointedly back to his tankard.

“Aye, captain.”

“I’ll need you in the morning.”

“Aye, captain.”

“And… thank you.”

Tahir raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned back to where Alex stood. She met his gaze from her place at the stairs; knuckles even whiter, grip on the railing even more unsteady, but with a stare as firm and unflinchingly open as he had ever seen on her before. Still not running away. A little coal of pride, hot as the summer sun, sparked to life in his chest, and Tahir smiled.

“Aye, captain.”

#original fiction #seven cities #my writing #oc crap #alex sheffield #tahir #i MIGHT have been overconfident with that post last night but #i still had fun with it #and THAT'S WHAT'S IMPORTANT #anyway this is a scene i've had in mind for mmmm literal ages #glad to finally write ti #it's sort of one of the indicative moments of alex's character change #and this piece has sorta been my change in how i'm trying to interact with my art #thus the title lmao #also very small subtle cameo of dovahgarbage's lee in the beginning there #cause I love him #OKAY I'M DONE TAG RAMBLING

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kingmaker-thac0hno · 4 years

Text

An Expected Journey: Part 1

The journal of Evrin Brazenbrook

1 Pharast, 4710

Today was the day we first set off from Restov, charged with the task of exploring the Greenbelt and to put down any banditry we may encounter. We made it to Nivatka’s Crossing without incident, and though there was not much in the way of conversation, which suits me just fine, my initial sense of Armauk’s and Adnachiel’s suitability for this expedition remains intact. Armauk seems deeply devoted to Erastil, and though I was raised with more of a connection to Gozreh, I admire his apparent conviction. It should serve him well in what I expect to be tough times ahead. Adnachiel is harder to get a read on. Like me, he is quiet, and closed, though not exactly unfriendly. I am most curious about some of his belongings, such as a strange, animated raven that looks like it is made from metal. He also brought two common women, which I found unusual, but he assured us that they would be useful for aiding with some menial tasks in the future. As for Karisathiel, I truly cannot say. Having met him only twice, and including him more because of the tactical loss of Oaken than because of his innate skills, I simply hope that he proves to be different from what I’ve heard about Galtians. In a sense, the four of us are a band of misfits, and while I have spent seven years in Restov, I feel, as the others seem to do, that leaving the city will be a welcome balm to my soul. While on the surface of it, I chose to lead this expedition for “the glory of Restov,” I am not so foolish as to believe that any glory will come from this enterprise. I expect danger and death, but in my heart, I welcome that challenge.

2 Pharast, 4710

The expedition has proceeded without incident thus far, and Armauk has had much success with fishing, noodling for a couple of plump catfish that proved to be surprisingly tasty. Karisathiel has taken to playing his lute quite often, which was initially rather annoying, but has grown on me. While I have never been inclined toward the performing arts myself, seeing them often used as the tools of charlatans, I have realized that few things can help unify a disparate party better than music. By mid-afternoon we found ourselves at Fort Serenko, which was curiously unoccupied. We’d heard that there was usually a garrison of soldiers stationed there, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. I suppose that they may have been dispatched on some pressing business—dealing with bandits, perhaps—but it must be unusual to desert a fort completely, without at least a few soldiers to keep watch. We all found this somewhat troubling, but there was nothing to be done about it, so we pressed on and made camp. If Adnachiel’s charts are correct, we should reach the Greenbelt around midday tomorrow, and Oleg’s Trading Post by late afternoon.

3 Pharast, 4710

Today was eventful, and may have given us a glimpse into the truth of the bandit situation so frequently sensationalized in The Quill. First, we came across a body in the bushes, seemingly looted of all valuables, and missing his ring finger. Armauk showed the purity of his faith by insisting that we bury the body, and all agreed to do so without complaint. Late in the day, we arrived at Oleg’s Trading Post and noticed four unkempt horses outside. As we approached the door, we heard gruff voices talking about taxes Oleg owed to the Stag Lord. This struck us as odd, given that the very nature of the so-called “Stolen Lands” is that there is no government to speak of, and no magistrate to levy taxes. As the situation became increasingly precarious for the proprietors, Armauk bravely entered the trading post, which looked to be a converted fort, and spoke to the four rough individuals inside about their purpose. They insisted that they were collecting their monthly taxes for the Stag Lord, who began the practice one month prior. They seemed to know very little about the purpose of the taxes, nor could they answer any of our questions about the so-called Stag Lord, or indeed, anything else about their purpose. It was clear to all of us by that point that they were bandits, and as Armauk spoke, we slowly advanced, making it clear that we were armed and prepared to act. Tensions were increasing, and weapons were starting to be drawn, when I suddenly lost consciousness. It was a strange sensation, not at all natural, and when I was nudged awake, I saw that all of the bandits were tied up and sleeping. I learned afterward that Adnachiel was able to put people to sleep with a wave of his hand, and while I was quietly infuriated at the personal embarrassment, I was equally grateful that he is of my own party.

When we found that the bandits could give us no further information, we killed and buried them, of course, and talked at length with Oleg and his wife, Svetlana, about their options. We all agreed that more bandits would eventually return, and from information Armauk somehow gleaned from the bandits’ horses, we learned that the main camp was at least a two-day ride away. As such, we figured we had between three and five days before the absence of these bandits (led by one “Happs”) would be noticed, and further bandits would return to investigate or avenge. I proposed that Oleg and Svetlana could abandon their shop and join us, or we could remove all traces of the bandits and have the pair pretend Happs’s crew never arrived, or we could remain at the trading post to shore up defenses and do our best to protect the couple and their livelihood. They chose the latter option, which did seem to make the most sense for us as well. Since Oleg’s Trading Post is within the area granted for our exploration by the charter, it seems like a reasonable base of operations, as it were, and since it is clear that we will need to deal with the “Stag Lord” and his gang at some point anyhow, a fortified position is a strategically sound tactic for the inevitable encounter. We were naturally invited to stay at the trading post, and Oleg and Svetlana were more than grateful for plans to aid with defenses. They seemed surprised that no soldiers had arrived by that point, having sent an acquaintance named Kritoff to Fort Semenko for that express purpose, but we deduced that Kritoff must have been the man we saw on the path earlier in the day. As I put my pen down for the evening, Karisathiel is once again playing his lute—a strange tune about an old woman who is certain that all that sparkles is coin, and who seeks to use said coin to purchase passage to the heavens. It sounds foreboding, and I fear my dreams will be disturbed tonight.

4 Pharast, 4710

Much of the day was spent on bolstering fortifications. Very little of note occurred, other than Adnachiel spending an inordinate amount of time tinkering with broken catapults, and Armauk catching us a sizeable deer for dinner, which Svetlana cooked to perfection. All told, it was a good day.

5 Pharast, 4710

More fortifications. We did, however, have a visitor come from the north. He was quite disheveled, but claimed to be a priest of Erastil who hailed from Galt. Armauk understandably took quite an interest in the man, whose name was Jhod, and had I a lower opinion of the affable half-orc, I might even say he was fawning over the supposed priest. I have mild concerns about him, as he persistently evades questions about his background, save for a repeated assertion that he has been pursuing vivid dreams of a lost temple to his god. According to Armauk, he seems to be highly conversant in the finer points of the Erastil faith, but I remain on guard about possible ulterior motives. Otherwise, we expect we may see more bandits tomorrow, but plan to carry out our expedition’s purpose as best we can while being vigilant.

6 Pharast, 4710

No sign of bandits today. Both Adnachiel and Karisthiel (whom we have begun to call Karis, per his request), sent their “familiars” into the air as lookouts for bandits, while the four of us proceeded to explore and survey the area in the immediate vicinity of the trading post. We found nothing remarkable, save for the beginning of a forested area a few miles due south.

7 Pharast, 4710

I write this entry by firelight, as we are currently camped a few miles to the east of Oleg’s. We surveyed a large swath of generally uninteresting terrain, though came across a particularly surly individual whose name, we presume, is Bokken, based on a description Oleg gave us a few days ago. Bokken had no interest in conversation of any sort, which is his right, and we generally left him alone. While we were setting up camp, Armauk shot a plump boar which he tried to share with the surly hunter, but to no avail. We left him the boar’s head regardless, and have kept a respectful distance. Adnachiel claims to have set several “alarms” that would warn us of any bandit approach, but what exactly he means by that, I cannot say.

8-9 Pharast, 4710

When we returned to Oleg’s yesterday morning, one of Adnachiel’s assistants claimed that she had seen several bandits off in the distance the day before, not far from the tree line. She couldn’t say much about their features from that distance, but she felt they were watching for quite some time. After some brief discussion, Karis and I decided to see if we could pick up a trail…which we did. We followed it for several miles until it entered a forested area that we had yet to explore. The trail was certainly less than a day old, but we were so interested in tracking it as far as we could that we paid little attention to the time of day. By the time the sun was starting to set, Karis and I decided it would be more prudent to make the long journey back to Oleg’s rather than try to camp out in an unfamiliar forest with a presumed bandit encampment somewhere in the unknown vicinity. I cursed my lack of common sense and lack of discipline, and by the time we made it back to Oleg’s early this morning, we were both exhausted. Our fellow party members had been worried about us, though they seemed to understand our reasoning. I slept for the next ten hours, and after an uneventful late afternoon and evening, I write this entry shortly before midnight, trying to will myself to sleep once more. 10 Pharast, 4710

We have decided that it will be more prudent if we refrain from venturing more than a mile from Oleg’s. This means that we cannot do the task we were assigned, but it has given me the opportunity to practice my swordwork for the first time in nearly a fortnight, and also to work with a bow. Fortunately Oleg has a few bows available, and while the weapon was never my strong suit, I expect that it will be useful when there are enemies outside the fort.

11-15 Pharast, 4710

I write merely to note that little has happened over the past four days. A few of the party are getting a little on edge, and Armauk had to forcibly stop Adnachiel from smashing Karis’s lute after he played some song about everyone having “an additional thing arriving” one too many times. Expecting a fight, and the fight not coming does strange things to the mind.

16 Pharast, 4710

Today, the fight came, and I am much relieved to declare at least a temporary victory. I must lack the eloquence of prior writers who can make a battle seem romantic and glorious, because today’s events were anything but. I was grateful to have spent the past few days practicing my bow work, as it was particularly useful today. For much of the conflict I was stationed at the northeast battlement, where I managed to kill at least one bandit and wound another. When the bandits were called to the gate by what seemed to be their leader, I ran as fast as I could in that direction, noticing as I did that Karis was completely out of position, while Jhod was also not where I might have expected. I cannot say what happened during the battle beyond what the others have told me—Adnachiel was able to put the leader to sleep, apparently, and Karis had dispatched her with his magics—but I did manage to slay a couple more bandits with my sword, and from what I could tell, the whole party seems to have availed itself well. If anything, Armauk has won my trust completely, as he was remarkably selfless in helping to heal the wounded, and I heard tell of him preparing to extinguish flaming arrows with his own unique magics. I still can’t quite get a firm read on Adnachiel or Karis, but fighting for a common goal bonds like nothing else—not even music. As I write, we have taken one bandit hostage, while we know that at least two others escaped. We can be assured that more will follow now, perhaps even an insurmountable force, but for the time being we all feel a sense of righteousness that we’ve removed some of the blight that plagues Brevoy, and a sense of relief that we should see the dawn for at least a few more days.

#Kingmaker

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azvolrien · 4 years

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Water Horses - Chapter Five

In which we actually get a brief passage from Roan’s viewpoint.

~~~

Roan whistled to herself as she walked back to the broch. The traps had made a decent catch; five good-sized fish, cleaned in the field and ready to store or to cook, hung over her shoulder by a string wrapped around their tails. Still, they had been eating a lot of fish recently. She would need to go on a hunt soon to add a little variety to their meat.

“Asta?” she called as she came within earshot of the broch. No reply; she must have still been in bed. Roan rounded the outer wall to the gate and walked through, fish scales brushing off on her sealskin. She frowned. Normally the hens would have come running as soon as she appeared, but they just peered nervously out of their coop, even Vanessa. Then she saw the door of the broch hanging off its hinges, and broke into a run. “Asta!”

There was no sign of her but her bag sitting at the foot of the bed and her knife lying on the high walkway. Roan knelt to pick it up, cleaned a drop of dried blood from the point with the hem of her tunic, and tucked it into her belt. Her breath and her hands trembling, she leant on the rampart and gazed out to sea.

As if voicing her thoughts, an anguished cry echoed up from the rocks. Roan looked; the water horses were still there, clustered around something she couldn’t see. Riabhach sat a little way off from the others, staring intently up the loch.

It might be the last thing she ever did, but she wasn’t sure what other choices she had. Roan steeled herself, left the broch, and walked down to the rocks.

Riabhach lurched to block her path, baring his teeth, but did not attack. The pupils of his yellow eyes narrowed to slits as Roan held up her spear, her bow and both her knife and Asta’s, and laid them on the rocks at her feet one by one. Riabhach lowered his long head to sniff them, nudged them out of the way with his muzzle, and heaved his formidable bulk back to his herd. Halfway there, he looked back and grunted, clearly expecting her to follow and see what the others had gathered around.

It was a dead water horse. A small one; one of last year’s foals, not even half-grown. The poor thing lay sprawled on the rocks, its eyes half-closed and glazed over with three crossbow bolts embedded in its flesh right up to the fletching. The others made no attempt to nudge it awake, though one of the mares lay still with her muzzle over its flank, her own sides heaving with her breath.

That answered one question about the intelligence of the eich-uisge; death and grief were concepts they understood perfectly well.

Riabhach grunted again to get Roan’s attention, lumbered over to a wide, smooth stretch of rock, and began to scratch at it with the claws of one foreleg. Roan followed him over, and her jaw dropped as another question was answered: they weren’t random scrapes.

Riabhach was drawing. The white scratches his claws left on the surface of the rock recognisably outlined the shapes of the broch, a boat, and a group of people. Though crude, they were more than just stick figures, too: Riabhach had added small identifying details to each of them, whether a weapon clutched in their hands or some distinctive item of clothing. In the rough sketches, the water horses were driven back by a hail of arrows, leaving one of their own lying still on the rocks, while six people led by a seventh with some round object tied to their belt left the boat and walked up to the broch, returning to the boat in the next picture carrying an eighth person with them. To this figure, Riabhach had added long hair in a ponytail and a detail of their hands tied behind their back. Asta.

Riabhach finished his drawing and looked back at Roan, cocking his head in an expectant manner.

Roan looked in his eyes for a moment. It wasn’t necessarily a human intelligence looking back at her, but it was intelligence nevertheless; she had never met the eyes of a seal or a deer and felt that there was much understanding in them, but Riabhach – an untrained wild animal – had just proved that he had a better handle on figurative art than some of her old schoolmates.

Roan laid the tips of her fingers on the drawing of Asta and lifted her hands to her chest as if clutching the picture to her heart. Riabhach looked back at the mares around the dead foal. Perhaps she was just reading human emotions onto him, but something in his fierce yellow eyes seemed to soften. He turned his attention back to the drawings as Roan picked up a stone, pointed at the boat and the other figures, and violently scribbled them out. In reply, Riabhach laid one front flipper over the final drawing of the boat and carefully scored his claws down across it, leaving more scratches on the rock.

Roan moved over to a fresh stretch of rock and began to scratch out her own drawings with the stone. Riabhach inspected them closely for a couple of minutes, then lifted his head and roared to the other water horses. The bereaved mare lifted her dead foal in her jaws and slipped back into the water, soon followed by the other mares and the surviving foals. With a last look at Roan, Riabhach dived back into the sea, but he stayed close enough to the surface for her to see his wake, and that he was swimming up the loch.

Roan cracked her knuckles, retrieved her weapons from the rocks, and ran up the coastal track towards the trees.

***

“Why have we stopped?” demanded Daro. “We’re not even a fraction of the way there yet!”

“Because it’s getting dark, and this part of the loch isn’t well-charted,” said the captain of the hired crew. “It’s too dangerous to sail it in the dark. We might hit a rock. I don’t care how much you paid us – I’m not risking my boat for you.”

Daro fingered the whip at his belt, muttering, but one look around at the surrounding faces told him that even with his guards on his side he was outnumbered. “Fine. But we anchor out here and stay on the boat – there’s no telling what manner of savagery is hiding in those trees.”

The crew glanced at each other, but shrugged their agreement and began setting out rations for an evening meal. Daro sat down beside Asta – still bound and gagged in the stern of the boat – with a deep sigh. “Hired help are more trouble than they’re worth,” he said, taking a sandwich wrapped in wax paper from his own pocket. “From now on, I’m only working with slaves.” Asta glared at him, her brown eyes rimmed with red. “Oh, don’t give me that look. Don’t worry, I have better uses for you than hard labour on the family farm.” Asta bared her teeth, clenched around the gag between them. “Careful,” said Daro with an unpleasant smile. “I’m still the one with the whip.”

One of the crew stood up to peer over the side of the boat, frowning down into the murky water.

“What is it?” asked the captain.

“Thought I saw something,” said the man. “But I think it was just a seal-”

An enormous shape erupted from the water. Propelled up by his powerful tail and hind legs, Riabhach arched high above the boat and came down in a thunderous belly flop amidships. Deck, rail and hull shattered under his massive weight and he wriggled back into the water before anyone could bring a knife or a spear to bear.

There was an instant of stunned silence as everyone stared at the water gushing up through the wreckage.

“Well – start bailing!” said Daro.

“Bailing?” said the captain. “Use your eyes, man! It’s bloody near cut the whole boat in half! I don’t care what’s hiding in the trees – we’ll have to swim for it. McAllister, take the slave. You’re the strongest swimmer.”

Over Daro’s ineffectual protests, Asta once again found herself picked up like luggage and slung over the broad shoulder of one sailor. The water was freezing, but he was indeed a strong swimmer, and they made it to the shore before the cold soaked right through to her bones.

Then the screaming started; the water began to thrash and boil, staining red as one swimmer after another was yanked beneath the surface, until only Daro, his guards and half of the crew made it to the safety of the shore. Riabhach had not been content with destroying the boat, and he had not come alone. The vengeful water horses emerged from the waves, dripping with water and blood like demons from the darkest legends, teeth bared and nostrils flaring.

“Get away from the water!” screamed the captain. “They can’t follow us into the trees!” Everyone – even Daro – scrambled to obey him, fleeing until the glint of starlight on water was hidden by the trees. They finally came to a halt in a small clearing, sheltered by a huge boulder dropped by some long-gone glacier and the spreading roots of a fallen tree. McAllister dropped Asta in the hollow beneath the roots with neither gentleness nor ceremony.

“Get a fire going,” said Daro. “I’m not going to freeze to death out in this godforsaken wilderness.”

The captain gave Daro a look very close to outright hatred, but it wasn’t a bad suggestion in itself. They quickly had a fire lit and huddled around it to warm themselves, stripping off as much of their wet clothing as they could bear to in the cold. Somebody passed around a flask of whisky they had managed to salvage during the escape from the wreck, but there wasn’t enough for anyone to have more than a sip.

An arrow thudded into the ground at the edge of the light, and everyone went quiet.

“Who’s there?” said Daro. “I’m warning you – we’re well-armed here!” His guards readied their weapons as he spoke. The crew were slower to obey, but even they lifted their knives and spears in case a water horse suddenly lunged from the dark.

“I’m going to give you all two simple options,” said a familiar voice as cold as the loch. “You can leave Asta here, go back to your homes, and forget any of this ever happened. Or,” firelight gleamed on the edge of a long spearhead, “I can gralloch the lot of you here and leave you at the shoreline for the eich-uisge.” Roan stepped into the light.

Daro rolled his eyes. “You,” he said, clicking his fingers at one of his guards. “Deal with this, will you?”

The man drew his sword and stepped forwards, his hands quite steady despite the chill. He lifted the sword for a powerful overhead swing, and Roan rammed the full length of the spearhead into his gut. Blood splattered from his mouth and he looked down in horror for the moment before he collapsed, tearing the spear free of his body as he did.

“I can’t speak for this one,” said the captain into the silence that followed, jabbing a thumb towards Daro, “but I think my crew and I will take you up on that. Can you point us back to the nearest town?”

Roan pointed. “Look for white way-markers painted on the trees.”

“Thank you.”

The surviving crew gathered up their things and filed off into the dark, leaving Daro and his five remaining guards to face Roan.

“Do you know who I am?” asked Daro, placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh, I know who you are. You’re a spoiled brat who didn’t get what you wanted, so you threw a temper tantrum. That’s as much about you as I need to know.”

Daro spluttered with rage for several seconds. “I- You- It- I’m- Kill her! Kill her!”

Roan showed her teeth, more like Riabhach’s snarl than her usual friendly grin. As Daro’s guards approached, much more cautiously than the first, she bowed her head and her breath began to heave like a furnace bellows. Her head snapped back up; the muscles in her neck stood out like hawsers, and her pupils had dilated until her eyes were almost black.

Then she moved.

It was like watching a dance rather than a brawl. Roan was fast, almost too fast to follow, but every movement was strangely elegant in its brutal efficiency. Wherever their blades were, she wasn’t, and every flash of her spear struck home to deadly effect. In only a few seconds, she was the last one standing. She hadn’t even grunted with effort, let alone screamed like the arena berserker. Blood dripped steadily from the point of the spear.

Daro backed away, stumbled onto his rump, and kept shuffling back to the shelter of the tree roots. “You can’t kill me!” he screamed, scrabbling for a fallen knife and lunging on all fours towards Asta. “Not if you want-”

Roan slammed one foot down between his shoulders and drove the spear through the back of his neck. Silence fell in the clearing again, disturbed only by the crackle of the flames and the rasp of Roan’s breathing. Her breath slowed; her grip on the spear went slack, and she sank to her knees and toppled onto her side.

“Rmm!” Asta struggled against the cords at her wrists to no particular effect. “Ick-”

Slowly, Roan rolled onto her hands and knees before lurching back to her feet and staggering over to cut Asta free. “Are you hurt?” she asked, holding Asta’s face between her hands. Her eyes had returned to normal.

Asta shook her head, clutching weakly at Roan’s arms. “J-j-just c-c-cold.”

“That’s not much better. You’re soaking wet.” Roan pulled off her cloak and laid it around Asta’s shoulders. The sealskin was warm, but it wasn’t big enough to cover her completely.

“Are y-y-you all r-r-right?”

Roan waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine,” she said, though there was a tremor of fatigue in her voice. “The battle-madness – what it does – it cranks everything up to a hundred percent. Strength. Speed. Awareness. Reflexes. Aggression. Really floods your system. But the human body? ’S jus’ not mean’ to do that for long. So it really-” she thumped a fist against her chest, “-takes it out o’ you afterwards.” She looked over her shoulder at the bodies scattered across the clearing. “Scoot up close to the fire,” she said. She raised a hand to stroke Asta’s hair, before realising it was still covered in blood and lowering it to her side again. “I’ll… deal with these. Then we can ge’ you out o’ the cold.”

“How f-far are we from the b-b-broch?”

“I make it ’bout twenty miles.”

“T-twenty m-miles?”

Roan gave a tired smile and took something from one of her pockets: Pardus’s summoning stone. “Think you can ride?” Asta nodded. “Good. Back in a minute.” She hooked her hands under Daro’s armpits, hefted his corpse onto her shoulder, and disappeared into the dark. She repeated the process six more times with his guards before returning for good to give Asta – shivering worse than ever – a leg up onto Pardus’s back.

“Wh-what did you d-do with them?”

“What I promised.” It took her two tries to climb up behind Asta.

“The water horses?”

“They won’t leave anythin’ to find.”

“You g-got them to h-help you?”

Roan nodded. “Turns out, they’re very clever. I’ll have to take the skull off the boat – doesn’ feel right to keep using it as a figurehead after this.”

Even with Pardus to ride, the journey back to Dun Ardech was long and cold, and they were both leaning heavily on each other when they finally reached the courtyard. Roan was so tired she could hardly raise the protective wards once they were safely inside the broch. Properly re-hanging the door would have to wait, but together they at least managed to stand it upright in the frame.

“You,” Roan said, prodding Asta in the chest. “Dry clothes. Get blanket. I’ll-” She blinked hard. “Start fire. Make… something warm.”

She had managed to light the fire by the time Asta came back downstairs in dry clothing and with two blankets and the reindeer pelt wrapped around herself, but making something warm had escaped her: a kettle was heating over the fire, but Roan had lost her battle with exhaustion and was fast asleep on the floor. It did not look comfortable. Asta knelt to try and get her onto a couch, and failed absolutely; Roan might have been lean, but six feet of unconscious her still came to more dead weight than Asta could lift. Asta sighed and settled for laying the reindeer skin over her and cushioning her head on her lap.

It was strange, she thought as she undid Roan’s long braid and combed her fingers through her hair. She had just seen seven people killed in a berserker fury. She should have been terrified of anyone capable of that. And yet here she was sitting contentedly by the fire with that berserker asleep in her lap.

The kettle came to the boil. She eased a pillow under Roan’s head and got up to make some herbal tea.

They both felt better by morning, even after spending the night on the floor. It was time to sail out to the island one last time. As she had decided, Roan took the skull figurehead off Each-Uisge’s prow before shoving the boat down to the water.

“I was thinking…” Asta began, tapping her fingertips on top of the hold locker.

“Hm?”

“I don’t… have to go to Stormhaven. I could stay. We could just tell Steel ‘Thanks, but I’ve changed my mind’ and go back to Dun Ardech.”

Roan shook her head.

“Wh-why not?”

“After what happened yesterday?” Roan moved the tiller. “Just because Daro is out of the picture doesn’t mean the rest of his family is.”

“Do you not want me to stay?” Asta asked in a very small voice.

“Of course I want you to stay. That doesn’t mean I think you should.”

“But… You’ll be alone.”

“What else is new?”

It was Asta’s turn to shake her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought you- why are you so determined for me to leave?”

“Because your safety is more important than my happiness!” Asta recoiled, wide-eyed. Roan sighed and gentled her tone. “You’re just… not selfish enough to admit that. Asta, mo chridhe. What if they blame you for his death? You know what the punishment for a slave killing their owner is. I can’t watch you take that risk. You’ll be safe in Stormhaven.”

“…You could come with me.”

Roan laughed hollowly. “What would I do with myself in Stormhaven? This is where I belong, out here on the edge of the world.”

Asta looked down at her hands, and made no further argument.

Captain Steel was waiting for them on the jetty. “Got everything you need?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Asta, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’m all packed.”

“Excellent. We’re ready to head south; Keelan and Blayney will row you over to Curlew as soon as you’ve made your goodbyes.” The two men in question waved from the dinghy where they waited. Steel nodded to Roan, spread her wings, and kicked off from the jetty to soar back to her ship.

“Roan…” Whatever words Asta had prepared fled and she just threw her arms around her. “Thank you.”

“Make a new life for yourself,” Roan murmured close to her ear. “Forget me, if you have to.” She let go and helped her down into the rowing boat. “Be safe and happy.”

“Don’t worry, miss,” said Keelan as they rowed over to the ship. “You’ll be made welcome in Stormhaven.” Asta managed a weak smile.

Curlew wasn’t big enough to have any passenger cabins, but they had made up a pallet for her in the corner of Steel’s. Asta left her bag on top of the blankets and climbed back up to the deck, finding an out-of-the-way spot to watch as the Sea Loch Country disappeared into the distance. Wordlessly, Pirate sat down beside her and wrapped a sheltering wing around her shoulders.

Roan stayed on the jetty until she was out of sight.

~~~

The punishment for a slave who kills their owner is crucifixion. You can understand why Roan finds that prospect concerning.

The Imperial Legions actually bar berserkers from serving as rank-and-file soldiers. This might seem discriminatory, maybe even a little counterproductive, but there is solid reasoning behind it. Namely, when your battle tactics depend on your soldiers successfully holding a shield-wall, someone whose ingrained combat response is to fly into a killing rage and start TurboStabbing might be a bit of a liability. Some special units with less focus on formation work do accept them, however.

#az writes stories

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a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 5 years

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Blind Au

Drabble 3....uhhhh here you go, slides this out closes rock door and hides probably like forever. Will probably notice typos misspellings so on so forth after posting lol.

"Are you sure this is permanent, I cannot exactly give you a diagnosis when I have not been allowed to study you before."

Flug was looking over the readings on his clipboard, Hat had never so much as even let himself be scanned prior to this moment, how was the Doctor supposed to instantaneously understand all this jibberish, such complex equations, beyond anything ever seen before, it said Black Hat existed and yet didn't that he was alive but not, the coins edge neither one side or the other, absolutely perplexing to the mind but fascinating all the same.

"Are there not...those of your kind trained in the medical field?"

He enquired, already having a feeling he knew that answer, but finding one here seemed like it might just very well be impossible the doctor thought while turning the page.

The demons mint coloured teeth were clenched, jaw tense as he ground out

"My kind as you put it are not in the business of caring for each other...I destroyed anyone I thought would be a decent challenge...they were all worthless in the end."

Black Hat was currently sitting on one of Flug's desks as he'd refused to go in the infirmary where he would have been left alone in his darkness with only irritating beeps and other small sounds that may as well have been screaming at him.

" Well you seemed to think taking Demencia's eyes was good idea, obviously though her eyes are genuinely too important too take..."

He paused a moment, fingers drumming on the clipboard before suggesting

"Perhaps we could set up a ceremony in your cult, make some elaborate lie that you need to feast on the body and keep the eyes as treasured memorabilia that someone willingly fed themselves to you."

"Or we could just get someone off the street and take their eyes."

Black Hat returned flatly, how in the hell was Flug...Acylius, so matter of fact about all of this!

He could hear the scrawling of the pen, his breathing, heartbeat...while Hat was showing himself to be fine, he was honestly anything but.

Everything was so intense, despite only seeing a world of ebony he could feel those harsh cold lights, all of the doctor's chemicals, while able to detect each one singularly they also merged as a whole, a part...well more than a part of him wanted to press his face against Acylius's throat, take in his scent.

Even when he'd made the annual visit to see the troops at his University he recalled how the doctor had smelled even then, it was the first time they met.

Pfft please, no mortals eyes deserve to rest in your skull, they are not worthy enough.

Flug thought in response, scoffing at the idea, inwardly of course.

The demon though was letting his mind wander recalling he'd even asked him why he donned such a peculiar object on his head.

(waves hands, why don't we just do a flash back, bloody idiot writer.)

Black Hat had seated himself on the edge of a desk in his University that belonged some teacher, ankles crossed as he half looked with interest over a black and red paperweight, colours swirling within, similar to something akin to a place he'd once considered home.

Claws tapping over the object he then pocketed it, this supposed top of the line student was running late.

A few more minutes and he would leave, his time was too valuable too waste.

Finally the large oak door creaked open, fear filling his nostrils as well as coffee and fast food, he near expected some slob to come through but instead what stepped through was a lean man of six ft and seven inches to be precise.

He was a near tower of a man, for some strange reason he wore a recycling bin on his head, no wait he could sense an energy all around him, he was wearing something that disguised him to the world, some type of hologuise band on his wrist, so what did the others usually see then, the demon allowed his sight to be tricked by this creation.

Ah so that's what they saw, a nervous man hunched over and a good foot shorter, the bin was very real though and that nervous disposition seemed somewhat genuine, there had been photo's of Kenning Flug slys taken and shown to him or so he had assumed until now, now it was a question of was there were in fact any images in existence of this man.

Even Kenning was an Alias, his real name was Acylius Flug.

So question was what did this doctorrr look like?

What did it matter, he was here to study his work...not pick up on the subtle hints of vanilla...sandalwood, oh? Was that a surprisingly expensive whisky in there to amongst that myriad of tantalising aromas, sweet and warming, touching the tip of his tongue to his teeth, wondering what he'd taste like, especially with that intoxicating smell of smoke that only fires left behind.

Pupil momentarily dilating in excitement, it was not unheard of that Black Hat would bed a student at the University if they took his fancy for Five minutes.

Holding out a hand the demon snapped, usual scowl falling into place, good job that bin was on his head, he was supposed to be angry at him...not expressing an interest in his...everything.

"You are late, you had better pray that your work makes up for it"

"My apologies sir, it is not a mistake I intend to repeat again."

Oh no...even his real voice held that of a warm gavel, cigar smoke evenings mixed with a feeling of deep velvet red.

(Ultron's voice without the robotic sound)

Clearing his throat he returned

"You are correct in that matter, if you do continue such behaviour, you forfeit any possibility in working for me."

The slight nervousness in Acylius Flug's voice seemed a little forced, intriguing.

A brow raised, flipping through the pages in hand he had to admit these were extremely organised and well put together and what was here put this man as being one of the most intelligent beings on Earth.

(Alas sadly I am not, so do not expect any cool scientific facts from me LOL)

His scientific prowess was almost reaching off world levels, even that hologuise did not change his form with the shift of light to be made hard, it literally changed his cells to transform his body.

"I am curious, why exactly do you wear that bin and make your self look like that? With your natural height you could put the fear into most..."

He trailed off, looking him up and down, thinking of those long...long legs wrapped around his waist in an attempt to crush him, did they ever end, that height did send tingles down his spine as he bit his bottom lip.

" I do not want people staring at me for one and I would rather they had their attention drawn to the bin than my face."

Flug replied curtly, fists clenching, he knew that tone all too well.

"Are you having fun imagining me in bed with you sir? We are supposed to be here discussing my work are we not...also when I reveal myself to a victim I get to enjoy their horror as they realise the mistake they have made."

A smirk forming on his features

" I am sure you have sensed, I am not entirely human."

"Yes indeed and perhaps I was, there is no shame in admiring art when it is there to see."

"Oh, what next you intend to draw me like one of your French boys or some ridiculous shit."

Studying Flug's work once more he actually snorted at his students response, sensing the eye roll even under that bin, he was liking him all for more because he wasn't throwing himself at him.

"Does it not get a little warm under there, all that hot breath, condensation on the plastic, the air is no doubt hot and stale in there."

Black Hat was trying to make him want to take that thing off, make him feel claustrophobic inside of that recycling bin, he wanted to see his face, of course he could have demanded it but where was the fun in that.

Chuckling at the audible swallow, watching as his hands fidgeted.

"Why not take it off, perhaps I could give you a little fresh air."

He purred, coming in closer.

"No offence sir but I would prefer to be taken seriously in my work."

The old demon was disappointed when he moved away, practically flinching at his advances, should he be offended?

Perhaps, but it wasn't disgust he sensed from him, no it was something more guarded.

"You are being taken seriously, though a little pleasure with business never hurt."

Usually he was not so fascinated by the presence of a student, none who had been in his sights in this way had lasted with their clothes on for long and in this case bin as well and it well and truly seemed like they weren't making it to the office desk or floor anytime soon.

"My work is my pleasure, outside pleasures are mere distractions."

(End of Flash back)

"It was so green."

Flug had been taking in the readings on the medical charts, if they could even be called that and checking him over when he heard that wistful voice, making him pause, only the soft humming of machines in their quiet with the odd beep here and there could be heard.

That distant stare in his masters eye was unsettling, that was something he was going to need to get used to...something Black Hat would have to live with forever.

"Acylius, are you still there?"

Black Hat knew he was, though the mostly quiet was beginning to close in around him, all this darkness there was nothing visual to focus on, to distract.

It was like being born again, when existence was not even a thing where he was no more than a single thing, dark within darkness, when the first light spread open its flowering petals he wept at its beauty, never knowing he'd feared that endless abyss would be all he'd ever know until now.

"What was green sir?"

The doctor asked gently as he set down his clipboard, the sound he noticed made Hat twitch and focus on its source , shoulders falling at a near audible breath.

"That ridiculous bin you used to wear on your head."

Hat rolled his eye, unaware that Flug had just been about to examine his eye again, partially bent down, Hats hand landed directly on his face...his bagless, bare face.

He was tense, feeling the warmth of his skin through his glove, then again his clothes were a part of him, they were him.

So.

Flug just felt NOW would be a good time to expose his face when he couldn't see.

In another circumstance his fingers would have explored over his features, lips, nose to see what he looked like finally...but this stung, it was a cruel joke, he usually was up for those...but not like this.

Flug might as well be mocking the fact that he was blind!

Claw tips pressed into flesh as a distinct growl of annoyance left him, Acylius had dared not moved in case Black Hat decided to rip his face off.

"So, you're taking advantage of my condition, my eyes unable to see are now your masks to which you hide behind. You are to tell me that bear even Demencia have seen this exposed, but not me?"

His eye went grey with streaks of blue as the rage swelled within him, those colours had changed with the demons affliction

"Do you find my condition some kind of joke, do you enjoy mocking me boy, are you amused now!"

Black Hat snarled shoving him back, hearing the stumbling and desperate grabbing at items a sudden yelp he near laughed until the sudden thud of something hard and the scent of blood.

People usually complained when bleeding, whimpered, made some kind of fuss....

His brow furrowed

"Flug?"

Silence....

"Acylius?"

Silence...

"Mine?"

He asked weakly, climbing off the table, hands out trying to search for his doctor, why wasn't he answering, he could still hear him breathing-

The demon tripped on one of Acylius's long legs, eye widening, using his hands to feel over him.... Well that was impressive....no focus, not the time, Flug could be dying right now, he needed to find where the blood was coming from.

Everyone believed he could control how long his workers lived for, what stupid nonsense, he'd even admitted to vomiting on his last scientist and saying 'and now we have Flug.'

This man was his, even if the bastard felt nothing for him, the doctor belonged to him, no one was going to take Acylius away, the demon would fight death itself blind or not!

Resting his hand on the tiled floor he came in contact with a thick warm liquid, this...this needed to go back inside.

That labored breathing was growing more and more shallow, crimson light engulfing his hands, the blood started receding, coming alive almost as it crawled back to where it'd spilled from, following the trail to the back of his head, hair clumped and matted until it wasn't.

His doctor was still unconscious, but he would live, no one would believe him capable of the evil he could do, especially as he lay there with his head on Flug's chest listening to his heart beat.

With each beat he made his breath follow, taking in his warmth.

Black Hat, once truly believed seeing the first light had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen...but that day they met, that wonderful soul, it's burning red, like fires endless and bright, he'd seen and knew there were no words in all the billions of languages to describe Acylius.

It didn't matter if he was still faceless to him, this being was the first true light in his dark world.

What had his doctor hurt himself on...reaching out, it must be something close.

There was something wooden...with a metal front, claw tips finding all the little holes and jack ports, knuckles knocking on its surface, he knew that dull metallic sound.

Demencia's amp, Demencia had been the reason Flug had nearly died, he was going to kill her!

(He's shifting blame obviously, Flug will absolutely set that straight I assure you!)

End

#paperhat #eventual #villainous #villanos #black hat #lime #for suggestive content #doctor flug #blind au

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margotverger · 5 years

Text

The Planets of Hannibal Lecter

As some of you might be aware, I’m very much into astrology. I’m also very much into Hannibal (obviously) as a show, so as you can imagine, it’s one of my favourite things to do to headcanon astrological stuff about these guys. However! In Hannibal’s case, a headcanon may not be necessary. Since his canon birthday is available, let’s look to see what (logically) his placements are. I actually possess an astrological book with a guide to planetary placements throughout the years, so I’ll be referencing that (the book is Joanna Martine Woolfolk’s The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need, for those who are interested). The birthday is listed here:

As we can see, his birthday is August 7th, 1966 (I believe that’s 1966, anyway). Ironically, I was just headcanoning Will’s age and birthday and I remember the common theory/fact? that went around some time ago that showed that Will and Hannibal were 6 years apart both in showcanon and bookcanon, and I had decided on Will being born on 1972 and so I already interpreted Hannibal as being a ‘66 kid. Glad to see I was sort of on the money, haha. A lot of this information that I’ve put down for you to understand the placements is a culmination of my own knowledge, with a little help from the same book.

Anyway! So, let’s begin. Warning: this is a long one.

His sun sign is in Leo, meaning that his basic identity is ego-orientated, dramatic, confident (yet a fragile ego) and bold. Leo is a fixed sign, which indicates that his basic nature is that of a stubborn, perfecting nature; he finds it hard to move from things, he is not the most initiative of people (he can be more reactive) nor is he necessarily adaptable when it comes to his identity. Leos are fire signs, which are known for their emotional intensity, their passion and their ferocity. Leos are also associated with the Lion, which indicates a feline nature as well as an association with pride. Similar to Libras, they have a vain nature, but Leos I would argue are more passionate and emotionally involved, their egos are more easily wounded and they’re much more vocal about their wounded egos (Mizumono, anyone?)

His moon sign is in Taurus, meaning that his emotional instinct is indulgent, stubborn, pleasure seeking, materialistic, and romantic. Taurus is ruled by Venus, the planet of beauty, harmony and love; however, as opposed to its other Venusian sign (Libra), Taurus is a fixed Earth sign. They seek pleasures in the material world, they are possessive and physical, they don’t just want to think and appreciate beauty from a distance; they need it. The moon actually exalts in Taurus, so this is actually a really good placement for him, the lucky bastard.

His mercury sign is Leo. Like his sun, he is dramatic and bold in his thought process; he is prideful and prone to arrogance, while having a fragile ego that conceals his repressed insecurities. Mercury is the planet of thought and communication, of processing and ideas, of messaging and travel. With Mercury in Leo, Hannibal is naturally gifted in eloquence; he possesses a magnetic charm that allows him to control things with ease, including others. There is a tendency to prefer to play than work hard, but there is a determination to succeed and to succeed well (especially if we look to his other placements). Mercury in Leo turns a person to someone who admires theatre and performance, and often their whole life feels like a stage; they are happy when on display (think of his performance as a serial killer, his irritability when others take credit). Mercury in Leos resent tediousness.

His Venus sign is Cancer. Venus is the planet of beauty, love, aesthetics, vanity and indulgence. To a Venus in Cancer native, being loved takes precedence over many things. In fact, in some natives’ charts, it can be the most important thing of all. In Hannibal, we see that manifest; indeed, he destroys his life, he may even abandon every one of his whims, desires, higher purposes, if only to be closer to the man he loves. He is a terrible romantic, sensitive and desperate. He hides this though, as all Cancerian Venuses do; he suppresses this need to be loved and to love in return beneath a mask, because until needs (whatever needs they may be depends on the person) are satisfied, romance is not worth pursuing, because if they want love it must be perfect - similar to its polar opposite Capricorn in love. There is an insecurity in Venus in Cancer - they want to be pursued, because they want their partners to prove that they want them. Of course, Cancer is cardinal, so it is more initiative than it seems, but they may be the sort to trick their partner into thinking they’re doing the first move, when in actuality Venus in Cancer put the stepping stones in place. Consider Hannibal’s seduction of Alana, Alana’s feeling of control and equality in that relationship; consider Hannibal’s relationship with Will, how he subtly tries to establish a dependency which then hides his own future dependency on Will. Even Bedelia, he approaches, and he allows Bedelia to think she has the power, but in actuality he is always the one in control. But he is intensely at love’s mercy, and when he finds someone worthy of all of his divine love, it is sensual, demonstrative, intense, sentimental and highly loyal - in Hannibal’s case, to its darkest extreme. Should be noted that Cancer is associated with mothers and nurturing, as well as family and children, and consider Hannibal’s maternal connection to others.

His Mars sign is Cancer. Mars is the planet of aggression, passion, drive and sex. Cancer subdues Mars somewhat; I believe it may be in detriment (since Capricorn exalts in Mars). Cancer Mars people such as Hannibal have a great strength of will, but not many people are aware of it. Hannibal appears soft, easy and well-mannered to people, and not everyone is aware of his method of attack (consistency, dedication, an unending will to get what he wants). He is naturally prone to an artistic, emotive nature. In sex, he is emotional and intuitive, and views sex as an extension of an artistic pursuit. He has to have involved partners, or he will just abandon them. There is a tendency to cling to relationships that may not be emotionally satisfying, or make him unhappy. He is prone to suppressing his anger until it comes out only in volatile outbursts or nervous irritability. Very well regarded for emotional work and breadth of vision.

His Jupiter is Cancer. Jupiter is the planet of benevolence, optimisim, luck, good will and other good things. It can also be too idealistic, too blind to bad things, etc. When in Cancer, it is very happy! Hannibal then is blessed with a good disposition and a natural sense of humour when approaching everything else. We can see this manifest especially in his sense of humour in dire situations, such as when Mason kidnapped him and Will. Generally, he approaches everything with a good nature (not good actions), and is optimistic towards himself and his own luck; he is aware of it. He has a natural popularity (which we can evidently see) which is helped by his Libra rising (more on that in another post). Jupiter in Cancer often indicates luck with money and especially inheritance, which we see manifest in the case of Hannibal very well, considering his nobility and his successful practise. He has an appreciation for antiques and food. Jupiter in Cancer folk often are incredible chefs. (Disclaimer: however, not all JiC people are cannibal serial killers).

His Saturn is Pisces. Saturn is the planet of patience, criticism, time and difficulty; where Saturn falls in a chart can indicate struggle before achieving perfection. Pisces is a deeply mystical, spiritual sign, associated with the higher realm. So, combining these, Saturn therefore doesn’t favour material success but rather perfection in a spiritual sense. Although Hannibal does love his material goods (see his Taurus Moon for example, and his braggadocious Leo sun/Mercury), he doesn’t value them on a soul level - they merely satisfy his sense of pride and serve as a medal of his achievements. Deep down, he is rather more interested and satisfied by something deeper. Hannibal is not religious but as I’ll mention later, God does factor into his character a lot, which does give him this spiritual energy.

Pisces is deeply imaginative, associated with dreams; Saturn in Pisces natives such as Hannibal possess vivid imaginations and capabilities to think of the strange and wonderful, which then are translated into creative work. Hannibal is no doubt a very artistic person, although his art is gruesome and vicious, his killings are considered an art form even within the canon text. Hannibal has a natural air of sympathy and understanding that stems from a good intuition, which draws people to him instinctively; Saturn is also the planet of the father, so the paternal energy combined with the empathetic nature of Pisces makes him a figure of comfort and (oftentimes) projection that others seek. We know Hannibal to be capable of incredible empathy, he merely weaponizes (and monetises) it.

Saturn in Pisces, more than any other Saturnian position, are sensitive to the harshness and viciousness of the world. Hannibal was introduced to violence at a young age, and has always understood and seen violence. He is aware that there is an evil in everyone, and believes that evil is inherent. In his case, he wants to pull it out - it’s probably to satisfy his suspicious Virgo Pluto, and to comfort his inner traumatised child, who was taken aback by it and so, when one is aware of others’ evil because it is right in front of you, you can’t be hurt by it. There is a child-like nature to Saturn in Pisces. Try as Hannibal might, he can’t run from the traumatised child inside him.

His Uranus is Virgo. Uranus is the planet of the eccentric, the strange and innovation. It is quite similar to Pluto in the idea that they are both transformative in nature, but Uranus tends to be a much more extravagant, lofty kind, as opposed to the karmic darkness associated with Pluto. Virgo is the sign of servitude, healing, perfectionism and criticism. With Uranus in Virgo, the power of Uranus manifests as a capability to analyse and use facts well; Uranus in Virgo natives have a natural intuition combined with potent common sense, giving them a heightened awareness of the world and a way to navigate the world intelligently. They have a need to improve the world, while seeking complete autonomy in the process of fulfilling their ideals. They reject authority. Their independence can be heavily noticed by others and registered as strange or unusual.

Hannibal is on a mission to transform the world in his idea of perfection; he rebels against God, manifesting himself as Lucifer among the living. He is the image of rebellion, against morality, against logic, against anything and everything. Yet he does it not for the sake of chaos necessarily but for the sake of chaos as a tool of higher ability. He wants to shape the world so that others embrace their most carnal, spiritual, raw selves as creatures of cruelty and passion, similar to the image of the Christian God (who loves and in His love causes immense suffering even through His worshippers).

TW warning for mention of (real life) cults, but very vaguely.

His Neptune is Scorpio. Neptune is an outer planet, a generational planet, and Neptune is the planet of the vague, dreams, mysticism, confusion; it is associated with the sea and so we can imagine that Neptune is a planet of depths, some completely baffling to us. Where Neptune falls in our chart shows our greatest source of creative inspiration (it is the higher octave of Venus) and aestheticism, and also our most confusing issues, where people misinterpret us or where we have a less than solid understanding/way of handling something.

Scorpio is the sign of intensity, sex and death. With Neptune in Scorpio, Hannibal is drawn to what is hidden from public view (the darkest parts of people’s psyches), to the areas of death, sex, possibly the depraved, the taboo (his reasons from being a psychiatrist, his time as a surgeon, his serial killer-y-ness in general). Neptunian Scorpios are capable of immense innovation, invention, and are generally drawn to sciences, medicines and genetics because of what they represent. Interestingly, unrelated to Hannibal, during the Neptune in Scorpio generation (1955-1970), there was a breakdown of sexual taboos in society (the swingin’ 60s, the beginning of the free love 70s), as well as a revival in belief of the supernatural, and one of the most notorious cults committed their grandest actions of cruelty during the Neptune in Scorpio era.

His Pluto is Virgo. Pluto is the planet of transformation, re-invention, it’s a huge karmic planet and it is a very intense one. It’s also a generational planet. In Virgo, Virgo is the sign of servitude, perfection, criticism, communication and analytical thought. So, when a person has a Virgo Pluto, they are naturally gifted with a profound capability for analysis, for being able to see deep within the layers of people. They are intensely devoted to perfection, but are suspicious and fault-seeking in the world around them. May have a paranoid nature that is concealed. With Hannibal, we can see this nature, but he hides his nature very well; the only time his Virgo attributes really come out is when he’s trying to take advantage of them so others warm up to him (i.e fussing over his imperfect past in order to get pity). However, he clearly does have a very paranoid, pessimistic view of the world - he distrusts even God. He is constantly seeking perfection and can even be prone to idealism in search of it.

Interestingly, during this era, the civil rights movement really saw success, and the feminist movement was growing in the mid 1960s (around the time Hannibal was born). Although this was very American-centric, Hannibal was born into a time of radical change, of growth and medical advancement. Unfortunately for Hannibal, he likely didn’t see the boons of this until later, but no doubt the Virgo-Pluto energy reached his home life in some other, probably much darker manner.

So, in summation: we can see a theme of luxury, perfectionism, intense emotion, spirituality, sensitivity, pride and creativity. Actually, Hannibal’s chart fits him very well, in my opinion, and only furthers my opinion that the fanon belief that he is some cold heartless manipulator who only feels genuine emotion for Will is completely wrong. After all, what he feels for Will is powerful (and I will write more astrological compatible stuff for them soon) but he feels love deeply, and for a multitude of things. He is just also the worst manifestation of these traits.

Also, a disclaimer: just because you have these placements, doesn’t mean you’re as bad as Hannibal or are like, evil. Hannibal is a fictional character and his fictional chart represents only the neutral state of the stars and how he manifests as a character is a representation of underdevelopment and the general evil of his nature etc etc. If you do have these placements though, tell me if you resonate with it or relate to Hannibal!

I’ll write a post on Hannibal’s House placements as well, as well as Will’s planets and houses too. Once there’s easily accessible information about the basic nature of their charts, I’ll start writing synastry posts as well, analysing the relationship through an astrological lens.

Thank you for reading this kind of pointless character study-type thing. Mwah.

#hannibal lecter #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta #character study #hannibal astrology #m #the planets of hannibal lecter

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