#coney john's journey

[honeyblockm]

25,12,15

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

yes. many times. writing process typically swings between getting really emo about the characters and going full sickos mode about it all. things that I would call upsetting would probably be all of I speak as one about to die. mmm tragedy. and the torture scenes in NO SAFE PLACE. especially the part about Lazar. Um. Crumbling like a wet cookie? turns out writing torture deals psychic damage to me, who knew. other fics have been sad for me and lived in my brain for a while but i would not call them upsetting on the same level.

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

I don't have playlists for my current WIPs. I haven't really gotten into the habit, though I totally should, but usually my character/relationship playlists serve the same function. Anyways I did make one for the cquackity / karlnapity & cdream slasher wedding fic that is currently. not being worked on at all. it is. entirely made up of songs from Bleed Out and MCR songs.

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

I use a lot of song lyrics! A lot of mountain goats lyrics. 13 out of my 32 works use tmg lyrics for titles. I look for songs that I feel like match the vibe or theme of the fic. The Mountain Goats have many songs with many themes. Otherwise I like using lines from the source text, if the fic in question was inspired by or was an au of something. Silver Dollar is from Arguing with the Ghost of Peter Laughner About His Coney Island Baby Review by TMG. because like. Dead guy. Elegy. gestures vaguely. put on your chairman mao coat because it pleases me to have that as a title and because commandante can be about dream and sapnap actually, if you look at it from the angle i'm standing at. Harlem Roulette can be about fundy and q, etc etc.

Everything Now As Day is a line from the Menelaiad by John Barth and WE ALL THINK YOU'RE A GRAND GIRL is a line from Antigonick by Anne Carson. I speak as one about to die is from Anne Carson's translation of Agamemnon. Kassandra says it :) you don't have to love it is a line from CM Punk's snake promo. left pining for transience is a line from the deeply wonderful Fiona Lu's poem Turing Test. dawn and mourning dove grey and turning from the plow are both lines from a song from the webcomic Sword Interval by Ben Fleuter, since both those fics exist in the SI au. The chapter titles for dawn and mourning dove grey are the names of the entries in the apocalypse log that reveals the circumstances of the worldbuilding and sets the stage for the final arc of the webcomic.

Titles that aren't direct references to something are still made with consideration to the fic itself. sometimes a fic is big enough 2 warrant a very simple and encompassing title as The Death Poem. The fox who traveled to the end of the world is called that bc I was trying very hard to emulate the style of the fairy tales and fables I read growing up, and those are like. Decently straightforward and referring 2 fundy as a fox emphasizes his trickster-ness. NO SAFE PLACE and BED [DIS]ASSEMBLY are like that because i appreciate all caps quite a lot, maybe an ill-advised amount. also sometimes its just the vibes. the vibes call for all caps.

before we cut to Alexandria is. hm. Well I can't recall atm the exact leaps in my thought process but the general gist is that it's a study of a very specific and liminal period of cabinetduo's relationship, set between the larger and Historical events of the election and the red festival and nov16, and Alexandria is this big important city and it's also a place that gets kind of famously destroyed a little but this isn't yet about Alexandria/L'Manberg. The poem doesn't even leave the White House. I also know it was inspired somehow by tmg's album Songs for Pierre Chuvin.

Journeying Into the Center of the Earth To Retrieve Your Dead Ex Boyfriend because that is what the fic is about and though it is not an instruction manual it is still a detailing of a process. and also because the concept was inspired by Carmen Maria Machado's Help Me Follow My Sister Into the Land of the Dead

[heavenboy09]

Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 To You

The Beautiful & Amazing New Zealand 🇳🇿  Actress Of The Best MORPHINOMENAL, Action Comedy, Scifi & Horror TV Shows Of Her Young Acting Career

Born On October 10th, 1998

She was born in Auckland🇳🇿 and was raised in Titirangi by her father, John George Whitfield "Mac" McIver (b. 1951), a photographer, and her mother, Ann "Annie" (née Coney), an artist. Her parents still reside in the house in which she grew up. She has an older brother, Paul McIver, who is a musician and former actor. She studied ballet and jazz dance until she was thirteen.

She began her career with guest appearances in New Zealand-based series, such as Xena: Warrior Princess, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Legend of the Seeker. She also had recurring roles in the Showtime period drama series Masters of Sex (2013–14) and the ABC fantasy adventure drama series Once Upon a Time (2013–2017). She is currently starring in the CBS supernatural sitcom Ghosts (2021–present).

She is a New Zealand actress. She starred as Olivia "Liv" Moore in The CW supernatural comedy-drama series iZombie (2015–2019) and played Summer Landsdown the Yellow Ranger in Power Rangers RPM (2009). She also played the role of Amber Moore in the romantic comedy film A Christmas Prince (2017) and its two sequels The Royal Wedding (2018), and The Royal Baby (2019).

Please Wish This Cute & Charming New Zealand 🇳🇿 Actress Of The Best Dang Humorous TV Shows From Being A Zombie 🧟‍♀️ & Christmas 🎄 Movies On Netflix

A Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊

You Have Seen Her

You Know Her Voice When She Is Using Her Kiwi 🥝 Accent

You Gotta Love Her

MS. FRANCES ROSE 🇳🇿🌹 McIver AKA ROSE 🌹 MCIVER OF THE YELLOW RPM POWER 🟡 RANGERS OF POWER RANGERS RPM⚡, OLIVIA "LIV" MOORE OF THE CW'S IZOMBIE 🧟‍♀️, AMBER MOORE OF NETFLIX'S A CHRISTMAS 🎄 PRINCE 🤴 &  SAMANTHA OF CBS GHOSTS 👻

HAPPY 35TH BIRTHDAY 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 TO YOU MS. MCIVER 🇳🇿🌹& HERE'S TO MANY MORE YEARS TO COME. #RoseMcIver #PowerRangersRPM #YellowRPMPowerRanger #IZombie #OliviaMoore #AChristmasPrince #AmberMoore #CBSGhosts

[babsaros]

Dungeons and Discord pt 3

its 4 am i love my party

we resume in the woods

there’s this guy (a character from group 2′s quest) going off to go do some shit (kill group 2) and a mysterious woman who keeps warping in and out of this plane so we decide to follow him

we fail miserably. the donkey is loud, the gnome is fucking talking the whole time, everybody fails their stealth rolls it’s chaos

we confront the dude about the woman but decide to back off and keep heading to the alchemists

we get there without incident tg for high rolls

wait actually along the way we met this tiefling named art. he was whistling and the gnome said it reminded him of when my character sings so everybody was like sing for us coney and i just threatened to pull out my bagpipes. art had a beast with no fur and three tails and he seemed chill but he was homeless and looking to join the adventurers guild coming to town so we got some info on that

the alchemist was living up in this tower and he used this booming voice to shout at us, my party pushed me forward and told me to talk to him (i think bc i hadn’t been doing a lot of talking before that) but like me and the gnome were floating a little bc we had been playing with the octopus sack, so i shouted up at him that we were floating bc of this new drug has he heard of it would he like to hear about it

i fail miserably at convincing people to let us into their towers. luckily this dude is batshit crazy and somehow convinced himself to let us in.

the fighter dude is having none of this and sat outside with the mule

so the alchemist is fucking crazy, through convo we learn most of his shit never works, my ring of fire detection gets super hot when there’s a fire so i should stay away from fire, and he’s started listening to eldritch gods and has split personalities. he gives us some dope shit, gets ont he fighter’s nerves and freaks him out with magic and his saner half gives some dope advice

he teleports us back to town, saving us a long walk tg

we give all the shit the alchemist stole back to the storekeep, he didn’t mean to steal it he was just borrowing it and super high on drugs, and they used to be friends so she just laughs. then she gives us some dope shit, like a talisman that lets me speak to my god, i tried to talk the price down but i suck at that so im broke now.

then we went and broke into the alchemist’s abandoned shop, found like 3 potions and one very questionable potion (it literally says “potion of invisibility?” on the label) and the alchemist’s diary. i should mention that the alchemist is named bodiknock doubleknock or smthn??

the diary is just a collection of ramblings about recipes (the gnome learned how to make a potion of animal friendship which was hype) and the story of how he started listening to eldritch gods, which we skimmed over.

and then we went to the inn to sleep and i’m gonna sleep now too we leveled up to lvl 3 too

[demigodreading]

New Friend: Ella Alina Series

ROLLINS WEEK

Day 6: Carnival

Characters: Amanda Rollins, Ella Alina Benson

.Relationship:  Olivia Benson/ Original Female Character

Warnings: Fluff

Read on AO3

Ella was sitting in her usual spot next to Olivia’s desk her legs propped up on the arm of Olivia’s chair. A book was in her lap and every couple minutes she would flip the page letting out a contented sigh. Munch had tasked her with reading Pillars of the Earth in less than a week. It was to settle a bet on who was the faster reader and the winner got to choose the next book for their book club. So far it had been two days and Ella was already two hundred pages into the eight hundred-page book. Munch had been doing everything in his power to distract her until he and Fin had gotten called away to a crime scene. Now it was just Amanda and Ella in the bullpen as Olivia and Nick were in an interrogation room. Amanda watched the young girl cautiously. She was still relatively new to the squad but Ella had immediately welcomed her in. By the end of Amanda’s second week, Ella was calling her Aunt but she still seemed nervous around her. She would look at her feet when talking to her and often had Fin ask her questions. Amanda thought it was adorable and wanted nothing more than to talk to the young girl. There was just something about her that seemed to light up a whole room. She was exactly like her mother in that way. Anywhere she went she made the room better. At least in Amanda’s mind. Amanda got up from her desk making her way over to Olivia’s desk, “Hey Ella.” Ella jumped looking back at Amanda, “Aunt ‘Manda! You terrified me. I didn’t know you were still here.” Amanda let out a small giggle, “I didn’t mean to scare ya. I’m getting ready to head out and have never gone to Coney Island before. Wanna join me?” A huge smile came over Ella’s face which quickly turned into a sly look, “Did Uncle John put you up to pulling me away from my book.” “Not at all,” Amanda shook her head, “I know you are going to beat him.” Ella smirked bookmarking her page and shoving her book into Olivia’s desk, “Let me go ask PawPaw if I can sneak out since Momma is busy.” Amanda watched with a smile as Ella skipped off down the hallway to interrogation. She started to gather her stuff as she saw Ella give Cragen a large hug. Ella rushed back to Olivia’s desk leaving her a large note. She signed the bottom with the heart and then slipped her phone into her back pocket. “Ready Auntie!” Ella smiled. Amanda nodded and they began their journey to Coney Island. Ella watched out the window with large eyes as the Wonder Wheel came into view. As they stepped out of the cab Amanda paid and then stood next to Ella. She began to scan the crowd taking in as much of the scene as possible. “You are doing the cop thing Aunt ‘Manda. You know not everyone is going to do some horrible thing at any moment.” “You don’t know that. It always pays off to be extra cautious.” Ella groaned, “You sound like Momma now. Can we go get an elephant ear before you find something sketchy to make us leave?” Amanda laughed as Ella took her hand and pulled her to the elephant ear cart. She ordered a large one for them to share and they found a place along the pier to sit and eat. Ella placed the food in between them breaking off a large piece and shoving it in her mouth. Amanda laughed as powder sugar flew all around Ella’s face. Amanda handed her a napkin and Ella took it gratefully. “Thanks, Aunt ‘Manda. I get a little excited around elephant ears,” Ella snorted and then groaned, “And I snort when I’m nervous.” “Why are you nervous?” Ella shrugged, “I have wanted to hang out with you for so long but I just.. I don’t know how to talk to people I guess.” Amanda gently bumped Ella’s shoulder, “I was nervous too but I want you to know that I think you are a pretty awesome kid.” Ella smiled, “Thanks, I wish the people at school thought that. I have no friends. Everyone thinks I’m weird.” Ella frowned at the comment. Amanda wrapped her arm around Ella’s shoulder, “Well those people are stupid. And you got a friend in your Aunt ‘Manda.” Ella grinned giving Amanda a large hug, “The best of friends.”

[scullysexual]

What was originally just going to be a simple epilogue turned into a full blow sequel. Halfway through this a multi-chapter format began and I can’t see this being posted just one big final chapter so now it’s just a sequel which might or might not be a good thing but I guess we’ll see.

@today-in-fic @purrykat @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @sarie-fairy Tagging you guys cause I know you’d want to be tagged haha. Anyone else wants tagging let me know. @kittydurs

I hope you enjoy this as much as you did Jewel.

Sunlight streams through the gap in the blinds. A small bedsit positioned perfectly that the first rays of light are bright enough to wake him up.

Mulder should be grateful for it, really. The first to wake means he’s the first to find a good spot on the pier, leaving the night owls to fight for the remaining places.

It’s been almost three months and this humble life has already proved to be much of a trial. He had underestimated it his whole life. Sympathy for those who lived this kind life he’d always had but the empathy had been lacking. Only now can he truly understand just how hard they had to work.

Beside him, Scully stirs, muttering something that sounds a lot like What’s the time? eyes struggling to open.

Mulder smiles, a hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face as she twists and turns to face him.

“It’s early,” he mumbles into the quiet room. “Go back to sleep.”

He watches as she settles, eyes falling shut once more.

The months passed since the disaster hadn’t been easy on either of them. When they had finally arrived at New York, the world had held its breath- maybe not directly for them but Mulder and Scully had felt it all the same, parting the ship, the miraculous survivors of a ship that couldn’t sink.

His dreams were still plagued with that night; icy water and chilling screams. When he slept, he had no escape- he was back there, clinging onto that rail, watching people drop to their deaths all around him. Sometimes he even saw Scully fall and those dreams had frightened him the most.

He never fell, though. Even when he was in the water, he could never die. Only those around him could die.

Scully fared no better. Sometimes she would just stop, get lost somewhere in the memory of that night. They never spoke about it, it was an unspoken agreement they had made stepping onto the docks. Nobody was aware they had been on the ship at all. After all, Fox Mulder had died and Dana Scully had never stepped onto the ship. It was easier that way, or so they told themselves.

With time wasting away he climbs out of bed. Their mattress in the corner has him scrambling over Scully to actually get out. His efforts to not wake her fail and, as he’s fumbling with his clothes, her eyes open for the second time.

“The pier doesn’t open until later,” she croaks. “Why do you need to leave so early?”

“Got to get the best spot on the pier, Scully,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. His attire had changed in the months that had passed. Gone were the handmade tailored suits he’d wear to dinners, now it’s just a simple shirt and some trousers. Even his shoes had taken a turn for the worse.

“You need new shoes.”

There’s a hint of worry in her voice, they barely have enough to pay their rent and eat.

He ignores the way the leather rips away from the sole.

“They’ll be fine,” he says, reaching over to grab his sketchbook- the only expensive investment he’d made after he lost his original in the sinking. He tries not to focus on that. There’s only a few drawings in this book, mostly personal stuff for when business is low and his hand aches to draw something real aside from the cartoon portraits of people willing to waste their cents.

Now ready, he walks the short distance back to the bed.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

Scully nods and Mulder presses a kiss to her forehead and then her lips before he grabs the keys and heads out.

The hallway is littered as always, even this early in the morning, people sit on the stairs trying as best they can to sleep. They don’t live here but the landlord does nothing to prevent them from entering, he’ll just go round with a cup and a silent request for money.

“Good morning, Leif.”

It still takes him some time for realise that he is Leif, not many people call him by that name and he’s Mulder to Scully regardless. No, only one person calls him Leif.

Mulder turns to see Susi standing in the doorway of her studio, scantily clad as always.

He smiles, intending on continuing with his journey before Susi’s speaking again.

“You know if you ever get bored, my door’s always open,” she tells him, with her cracked-teeth smile.

Mulder awkwardly nods and smiles, saying nothing. He tries to keep his conversations with Susi brief after their first night here and she had gotten a little too friendly with him in the communal area, much to Scully’s dismay. He had only tried to make friends.

He leaves Susi where she is, unlocking the front door and making his journey to the pier.

 Scully spends her days counting coppers. Better with numbers than Mulder, they agreed that she would handle their funds and that’s how it had been for the past four months.

Yet her heart drops when she’s finished adding and subtracting the money away to find that there isn’t enough to pay the rent and feed them.

In the early days, when they’d discussed what they would do about jobs, the price of Mulder’s drawings had been brought up a lot. He’d argued that the drawings were worthless and if he was selling them at a ridiculously high price nobody could come to him. She, in turn, had argued that maybe the price should be decided on the work put in and the work produced.

It doesn’t work like that, Scully, Mulder had told her afterwards. People pay for what they get, they don’t care about how much effort has been put into it.

Scully could only scoff. How would you know? she’d asked. Everything you wanted has been handed on a gold plate. All Little Fox would have to do is throw a temper tantrum and Mammy and Daddy would cough up.

Perhaps it had been a low-blow but his words had only made her angry. He knew nothing of this, of trying to find a good-enough job to pay the bills. Once upon a time, he’d have inherited some big company, his wealth sealed in that outcome and until then he’d been all nice and cushy.

After a while, after what Scully had said had fallen to the floor, Mulder said, Perhaps it’s best we get away from each other for a while. We’ve been cooped up too long in this room. With that he’d left, leaving Scully to figure it out.

Just like she has to do now.

She stares at the numbers, maybe hoping they would magically change to the right number but no, they don’t, they stay as they are.

She can owe, she thinks. She’ll have to.

He hands the stupid drawing to the woman as the man drops the money into the pot.

The third person. The third person in five hours.

Despite it being August, despite it being lunchtime, the sun high in the sky and pier packed, nobody was interested.

Mulder cracks his back, already sore and aching. Still six hours to go, still a chance to bring home some real money.

“Business not going well?”

Mulder internally groans at the sound of a familiar voice.

“What do you want, Fuller?”

He tiredly looks over to the weasel-faced man casually poking around his stall, his face lacking stress, his hands in his pockets, and a cocky demeanour reminding him all too well of Alex Krycek.

“Just looking around,” Fuller says. “Seeing how the competition is doing.” He picks up Mulder’s money jar and pulls a face. “Ooh, not well I see.”

“You not got your own stall to man, Fuller?”

Fuller laughs. “I’m on a break. See, unlike you, I can afford these little luxuries.”

Mulder had met Fuller very early on. They both fought for the same spot on the pier- the spot Fuller now occupies- and since then it had been a race to see who could get there first. Fuller always beat him, regardless.

“Why don’t you have your little break somewhere else then?”

He goes to push Fuller out of his stall but the little weasel man is quick, hopping out of the way just before Mulder can grab him.

“Careful, Brevik,” he says. “Otherwise you won’t be around much longer to pay that rent.” He gives a sideward glance to the jar again. “Not that you’ll be paying it this month anyway.”

Fuller saunters off then, back to his own stall.

Mulder sits back down on his stall, wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks wearily at the jar himself. He thinks it’s rent day today and just hopes there’s enough at home to cover it.

“It’s Mulder, isn’t it?”

Mulder pauses. His real name being uttered by somebody else…He chances a glance up at the person, not really sure what to think.

“Christ, they said you were dead.”

Mulder frowns at the man who stands before him. He looks familiar but Mulder can’t for the life of him replace him.

The man chuckles. “You don’t recognise me, do you?” he says and holds his hand out. “John Byers, we met on the Titanic.”

Realisation sinks in as Mulder remembers him. He smiles, jumping up from stool and shakes hands with Byers.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says. “A lot’s happened recently.”

“Yeah,” Byers agrees. He looks at the sign next to the stall. “First class suits on the Titanic to selling cartoons on Coney Island. What happened?”

“A lot,” Mulder says. “A lot happened.”

 They’re meeting lands them in a bar just off the pier. It’s still early, Mulder guesses it’ll start to pack up later.

“Didn’t think you’d survived,” Mulder says.

Byers laughs. “Yeah, Suzanne wouldn’t get on a lifeboat without me. The officer just looked at me and shrugged. What about you? They say you’re dead but you’re here in front of me.”

Mulder chuckles slightly, picking the label off his beer bottle. “I didn’t marry Phoebe Green,” he says.

Byers nods. “Yeah, your father put that in the papers. Said his son had died a dignified death, sacrificing himself to save women and children.”

“Of course he did,” says Mulder, begrudgingly. He hadn’t touched the paper. The headlines were everywhere, the story plastered on every newspaper being sold. He had lived the tale, he didn’t need to read some exaggerated version of it.

“So, you didn’t marry Phoebe because you died, what was the other reason?”

He looks up to the ceiling, trying to figure out the way best to explain it.

“I met someone,” he says. “Someone from the third class.” He hears Byers breathe out heavily but ignores it. “And after a day I knew I didn’t want to marry Phoebe. I didn’t want to marry her at all, I didn’t want to get on the ship but there was nothing I could do about it.” He shrugs, smiling. “Then I met Scully and I didn’t want to be anywhere else after that. I decided I was getting off the ship with her and the only way to do that was to change my name and pretend I died.” Mulder sits back in his seat and looks towards Byers, holding out his hand again. “Leif Brevik, by the way.”

Byers laughs, shaking Mulder’s hand again. “That’s quite the conspiracy,” he says and Mulder shrugs again.

“Listen,” Byers tells him. “I have some friends who have been looking into the sinking.” Mulder’s ears piqued up at that. “We think it might have been an insurance scam.”

Mulder frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“There’s just some evidence that seem to point towards it being a possibility. We have a base not too far away from here, if you want to see.”

Mulder looks from his pitiful jar of money, to the window where he can see Fuller’s long line of people queuing for their portrait. With one final decision, he nods.

 The dreaded knock on the door finally comes. Scully jumps slightly, taking her head out of the medical journals Mulder sometimes brought back with him.

Her stomach squeezing with nerves, she grabs the bag of money and with a deep exhale, opens the door.

Mr Roth stands on the other side, his arms already full with other tenants’ rent.

“You’re rent, Mrs Brevik.”

Cautiously, Scully hands the bag to the landlord. He snatches it- ever one without manners. As he begins counting, Scully’s fingers begin to nervously fiddle with her necklace.

Mr Roth shakes his head, muttering. “Where’s the other $9?” he asks.

“That’s all we have,” says Scully.

Roth looks at her for a moment and Scully waits.

“I want $35 next month,” he says and with that limps off down the corridor.

Scully lets out a breath.

“Better be careful.”

Scully looks up to see her neighbour hanging out of her front door.

“Last tenant who couldn’t pay the second time was out on the streets.”

Scully smiles, saying nothing and retreats back into her house. Maybe it was a time she got a job also.

[knightrayon5]

What Everybody Dislikes About Is There Public Transportation From Laguardia To Manhattan And Why

You'll want to get on the Q subway line in Coney Island. If you live nearby likelihood is you might want to rent one of our non-public cars versus a shared ride shuttle. LaGuardia has made it straightforward for those driving electric cars to cost their vehicles on the fly whereas at the airport. The electricity is offered freed from charge. At present, those that will choose up passengers of a flight arriving at LGA can use B Wait Space, located near Terminal A, and is free to park for the first three hours. A free NYC Subway Map is obtainable at most subway stations and likewise posted on the wall of each subway station, which are roughly 9 blocks apart. But Hochul - who controls the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, which operates Lengthy Island Rail Road and subway trains at Penn Station - stated Wednesday masks will proceed to be required in practice stations throughout the state.

And you may view Subway Maps here. The bagel shop is a long Island institution, and whereas nearby New York City is best identified internationally for its bagels, they're just pretty much as good right here. He made my trip that much better. Thanks a lot! Regards. The identify was then changed to North Seashore Airport for the reason that airport was on the North Beach Gala Amusement Park site. As soon as I reached avenue degree, I discovered myself at Sutphin Boulevard, where I turned left to head north towards Jamaica and Hillside Avenues. Eric's tip: The Howard Seaside line is quieter than the AirTrain to Jamaica. You may add a 7-Day Limitless move plus $5 (or more) to your card to be ready to make use of one card for a number of transportations such because the AirTrain or the trail to NJ. Within the afternoon, the time will likely be longer, however there are three or four ways your driver can get there, so you must be Ok leaving an hour or so. The estimated charging time for Stage I is 12 to 24 hours.

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[kayliemusing]

28: take a shot every time i mention taylor swift

AC/DC - What are your favorite bands? - Of Monsters and Men, Sleeping At Last, The Lumineers.

Aerosmith - What are your favorite songs? - Oh boy. There's a lot but these are the ones I'll never be able to get over: All Too Well by Taylor Swift, Exile by Taylor Swift ft Bon Iver, Wild Heart by Bleachers, Saturdays by Twin Shadow, Wild Roses by Of Monsters and Men, Fast Car by Tracy Chapman, Every Breath You Take by The Police, Robbers by The 1975, Hunger by Of Monsters and Men, and Sleep On The Floor by The Lumineers

Aretha Franklin - Do you have a favorite jazz song? - No, I don't really listen to jazz

Alice Cooper - What is your favorite type of music? - I mostly gravitate to folk/alternative, pop, country-pop, and singer-songwriter genres (I like a little bit of EDM too depending on the song).

Beach Boys - Have you ever been in a concert? - I've never been to a concert of someone I super duper admired, but I've been to a Jonas Brothers concert when I was ten lol and then Marianas Trench when I was 15 which I remember being a pretty good show.

Black Sabbath - A song that motivates you? - Shake It Off by Taylor Swift gets me in a good mood

Bob Dylan - Do you know how to play any musical instrument? - No lol. I tried to learn how to play guitar but I just don't really have any sense of rhythm at all lmao

Bon Jovi - Your favorite song about love? - Can't Help Falling In Love With You by Elvis Presley (and various cover artists) has always been a favourite of mine.

The Beatles - Latest song that made you smile? - Mr Perfectly Fine by Taylor Swift bc it's peak sassy teenage taylor

David Bowie - A song that makes you feel happy? - again, probably Shake It Off by Taylor Swift, but also Truth Hurts by Lizzo

Eric Clapton - Have you ever been in love with a rock artist? - No

Creedence Clearwater Revival - What is your favorite instrument? - I really like the sound of an acoustic guitar, but also the violin is so beautiful. (Honourable mentions: Fiddle, Banjos, cellos)

Deep Purple - Do you prefer bassists or drummers? - I don't have an opinion, really, but maybe bassists?

The Doors - What is your favorite lyric? - "If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?" from Coney Island by Taylor Swift and The National. I have so many favourite lyrics though. Also "I'm not your homeland anymore so what am I defending now?" from Exile (also by Taylor lol)

Fleetwood Mac - Female or Male vocalists? - Both have different, unique things to offer, but I guess female vocalists.

The Grateful Dead - What song are you listening right now? - Nothing right now. I usually can't focus when musics on because I just end up singing along or getting distracted lol

Guns n’ Roses - What song describes your emotions right now? - I'm somewhere in between Mirrorball by Taylor Swift, Reasons Not To Die by Ryn Weaver, and Wild Roses by Of Monsters and Men.

Heart - Do you know a song that you want at your wedding? - Yes! Tbh I want to have a playlist of love songs played during the reception at my wedding lol. I think I want to walk down the aisle to A Thousand Years by Christina Perri (maybe the piano guys version tho) and I want the first dance to be Lover by Taylor Swift or Can't Help Falling In Love by Kina Grannis

Iron Maiden - Do you frequently listen to your songs on shuffle? - Mostly, I do. I don't usually know what I'm in the mood for unless I've had something stuck in my head or a new song has come out so I usually just play shuffle until I know what I feel like listening to.

Jimi Hendrix - A song that represents “your aesthetic” - Love by Lana Del Rey, just that very soft, breezy, dreamy aesthetic.

Joan Jett - Who do you think when you listen to your favorite love song? - I'm not usually thinking of anyone in particular because I don't have anyone like that in my life, but I'm usually imagining a scenario to write about.

Janis Joplin - What is your favorite 70s song? - I'm not super good with years so forgive me if I get it wrong, but You're So Vain by Carly Simon

Journey - Do you have any famous crushes? - Not crazy insane crushes and I currently don't have a crush on any singers, but some celebrities I find attractive are Matthew Daddario, Henry Cavill, etc. Lol I'm too tired to think but those are the first that pop in my head.

The Kinks - What is the last single you downloaded? - Drivers License by Olivia Rodrigo

Kiss - What is the perfect song to describe your relationship with your boyfriend/girlfriend/crush? - I don't have any of those right now lol but a song that represents a relationship between two characters I've written is Half of my Heart by John Mayer

Led Zeppelin - Do you like loud guitar solos? - Sometimes if they hit right

Lynyrd Skynyrd - Do you like instrumental songs? - No, I'm a lyrics girl. Sometimes they're nice, but I'm not one to actively put that on.

Metallica - A song that you think everybody should listen to? - Coney Island by Taylor Swift ft The National because the lyrics are *chefs kiss* and if that one isn't your vibe then Exile by TS ft Bon Iver (basically please go stream folklore and evermore)

Nirvana - A song that breaks your heart? - You Said You'd Grow Old With Me by Michael Schulte

Pink Floyd - Name your top three songs in any language. - currently my top 3s are (all ts songs obvi bc she's all i've listened to for months on end) cowboy like me by taylor swift, coney island by taylor swift ft the national, and exile by taylor swift ft bon iver (have i mentioned taylor swift enough yet)

Pearl Jam - A song to drive to? - Getaway Car by Taylor Swift

Queen - A song to dance to? - Stealing the show once again, Shake It Off by Taylor Swift

Bruce Springsteen - A song that you would sing in a karaoke? - just put on anything taylor swift and i will scream the lyrics

The Rolling Stones - Your favorite album? - Red by Taylor Swift (but evermore by ts is quickly stealing the show)

U2 - A artist/band you’re proud of? - Taylor Swift bc of how she literally overcomes everything no matter what kind of bs people say or throw her way.

Van Halen - Favorite guitarist? - I don't really have one

The Who - Favorite bassist? - Again, don't have one

Yes - Favorite drummer? - and i oop

Dusty Springfield - Do you have a favorite soul song? - I don't really listen to soul.

The Supremes - Your favorite girlband? - Haim

Simon and Garfunkel - Your favorite acoustic song? - Free Fallin by John Mayer (tom petty cover) or fast car by tracy chapman

Derek & The Dominos - Do you prefer a cover more than the original song? - Sometimes, depending on what the cover brings. Sometimes I'll like both. For example Circles by Post Malone is a song I already love but Of Monsters and Men did an amazing cover of that one and made it even sadder and I'm obsessed with both.

The Mamas and The Papas - What’s the song that have a harmony so good that makes you want to punch something? - the bridge in driver's license

Santana - Your favorite artist hairstyle? - Taylor Swift is obviously my favourite artist if you hadn't noticed and my favourite hairstyle from her was probably her short hair during 1989 when it was to her shoulders, but I also really like her Lover era hair (medium-length with bangs)

Ramones - Do you like punk music? - Not really

The Temptations - A song that you liked when you were younger? - Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis lol

Cream - A song that you associate with summer? - August by Taylor Swift. (Also I associate 1975's entire 2012 album with summer for some reason)

The Band - A song that you never get tired of? - All Too Well by Taylor Swift

Steve Miller Band - A song that need to be played out loud? - Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

Sonny & Cher - A song by an artist with a voice that you love? - Organs by Of Monsters and Men

Wings - A song that makes you remind of yourself? - She's Got Her Ticket by Tracy Chapman

[mercedesbarnes]

Lovebug

Summary: lovebug (n); the name given to the person with whom you have fallen head over heels in love. to be called a lovebug is the ultimate expression of affection. they are the love of your life.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5,207

Warnings: 40s!Bucky, memories in italics, v minor cursing, angsty fluff, sadness

A/N: so I’ve had this idea for a while and it took a life of its own, hence the word count. As always, I love hearing from you! 

A/N: a massive thank you to the american science queen @modestlyconfused for listening to me rant about this and life, helping me with details, and laughing about my autocorrect mishaps. Bucky would get you a crown too❤️

“She’s over here.”

Steve’s voice carries over the rows.  Bucky doesn’t respond. Although the autumn sky is clear and blue, the sun is making its journey down in the sky and the breeze is cool.  It’s only when Steve places a gentle hand on his shoulder that Bucky stirs, tearing his gaze away from the weeping willow and focusing instead on his best friend.

His best friend, who knows where you are.

“Buck…we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

Steve’s eyes search his. He’s reading Bucky like he always does, and as always, he knows what Bucky is thinking.  Bucky says it anyway.

“Yes—“ His voice shakes and he clears it to try again. “Yes we do.”

“I know.”

Bucky needs Steve’s hand on his shoulder like he needs air.  Squeezed tight and solid, Steve keeps his hand there as he guides them through the rows, respectfully keeping to the carefully marked paths.  Each rock speaks of the deceased, the long-lost loves, the ones that got away.

The worst part is that you hadn’t gotten away.  He had you, once, until it was ripped away from him.

Steve stops, Bucky stops, and both simply stare. Y/N Y/L/N.

Steve drops his arm and walks up to your headstone.  He crouches, holding the rock that has your name and the eight numbers that speak of your life yet could never carry the weight of love you brought between each four.

He speaks to you, but the words are lost to Bucky’s ears.  Is he tuning them out for the sake of Steve’s privacy? Maybe. More likely they are lost because of the memories that have thrust themselves into the forefront of Bucky’s mind.  

Laying the bouquet of flowers he brought, Steve rises and tells Bucky he will give him some time alone.

“Hi. It’s me.”

After meeting in seventh grade art class, Steve invites you over to teach him more about shading techniques.  You’re both on the fire escape in the middle of drawing when Bucky lets himself into Steve’s apartment and yells his presence.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You introduce yourself with an outstretched hand and a dazzling smile that cannot be outshone by the sun setting on the horizon.

“The name’s Bucky. How you doin’, doll?”

“I’m doing pretty well, handsome. Your friend here is a great artist.”

This makes Steve puff out his chest. He tells Bucky, “She’s the queen of shading.”

“Is that so?”

“Damn right I am, come look.”

He looks, and you are aptly named. Your sketch is enchanting despite being in the middle of construction, your lines capturing the character of the Brooklyn Bridge with impeccable ease.

“Remind me to get you a crown, you are the queen! Can I?” he asks, and you let him flip through the rest of your book. 

Steve likes to draw people; he has tens of sketchbooks full of his mother, of Bucky, of the mailman.  You, however, like to draw places and things: skyscrapers, houses, the graffiti so often found in the alleys where Steve fights. All shaded beautifully. All of Brooklyn.

“It’s home,” you explain when he points this out, “I never want to forget home.”

~

It’s years later that Bucky sits cross legged and leaning back on his hands, amused at the sight of you snatching the bowl of chips away from a greedy hand.

“Will! Stop eating, it’s your turn.”

“Okay, okay, don’t have your kite in a twist.”

Will wipes his powdered hands before spinning the empty glass Coca-Cola bottle the group is using for Spin the Bottle. It wobbles in circles on the carpet before pointing at the lucky person: John.

“Ooo,” Bucky teases, “Pucker up, Johnny boy.”

You’re in murmured conversation with Steve to his right, and his feeling of contentment grows.  He’s surrounded by his friends, at night in Dot’s house, doing what teenagers do during the summer after high school graduation. Eating and drinking and laughing.

John taps his cheek jokingly. He isn’t prepared when Will grabs the sides of his face and crashes his lips to skin, adding an audible ‘mwah’ for dramatic effect. John swipes at the spot.

“Ew, he licked me.”

Bucky pokes Steve, who is massaging away the stitches as you go on with your entertaining story; Bucky had convinced him to tag along, and although he originally hesitated, Bucky knows he’s having a good time.  Your narration and constant inclusion of Steve is a huge factor--you two are both passionate beings and had become fast friends. It’s not possible for Bucky to be more grateful that you’re here.

“Okay, go John.”

Bucky’s not sure if he believes in God, but he’s sure the bottle is guided by the divine: it lands on Mary.  He cheers watching John press a tender kiss to Mary’s cheek.  Pink dusts her face as she gives him a shy smile—they have a crush on each other. It’s positively cute how their eyes catch across the circle.

This game could be a romantic catalyst, he thinks, recalling his lessons in chemistry. Catalysts cause a change.  Reactions happen regardless of catalysts, but with them the reactants mix faster to make the product almost instantaneously. Here, the product could be love.

Bucky loves the idea of love, but he hasn’t found it. Not yet. For now, he kisses girls behind shops, kisses them on the Ferris wheel, woos them, charms them, sweeps them off their feet.

“Mary, don’t forget the rule!” Dot pipes up. “If you land on John, you two have to kiss for thirty seconds.”

“Is that new, Dot? Seems like you come up with more rules every time we play,” you ask, tilting your head. You have that smirk playing at your lips, the one Bucky classifies as reserved for teasing.

“My older sister says it’s how she plays. If two people spin each other they have to!”

If Mary’s hand shakes, no one sees it. Her shoulders fall at the result but only slightly. It’s Bucky, after all. He meets Mary in the middle of the circle and receives his kiss on the cheek. It’s soft, and he remembers how her softness felt on his own not too long ago. She was a good kisser, and if her and John weren’t about to go steady, he’d consider finding her later and doing it again.

Bucky spins idly, and is roused by Steve’s clap on his back.  You.  He smirks and reaches out with both hands.

“C’mere doll.”

Your eyebrows rise, but you move past Steve, who has scooted back to make room. Bucky brings you close and places not one, not two, but three kisses on your cheek.  When you pull away, surprised, Bucky flashes an innocent grin.

“What?”

“You’re somethin’ else, Bucky Barnes, really.”

“Thanks, Y/N Y/L/N,” he grins wider.

There’s something curious in the way you’re looking at him. “I haven’t decided if that’s a compliment yet.”

Your hand reaches for the bottle, breaking eye contact for the second it takes to twirl the glass. It goes fast, then stops suddenly, snagged on a bump in the carpet.  It’s pointed directly at Bucky and your eyes lock.

Will yells, “Go on then! Kiss him!” and you do.  You kiss him, and he thinks he’s in heaven. If Mary’s lips were soft, yours were silk.

He’s so caught off guard by this feeling, this feeling of right, that ten seconds pass before he realizes you two are only connected by your mouths.  You’re tugging at his sleeve and you shuffle closer, enough for him to wrap an arm around your waist and bring you flush against his chest while you run your fingers over his shoulders and in his hair.

When Bucky surfaces at the call of thirty seconds, he is visibly shaken. The thought that he must be red as a tomato flits through Bucky’s muddled brain, because Steve has the exact look his Ma wore whenever he had a coughing fit.

The world is spinning. He likes it.

“Buck, you okay?”

Nothing so articulate as a sentence could be said from him now.  So he says the only word he knows.

“Y/N.”  Yes.

“…you sure?”

“Y/N,” he answers again, dazed.  

His eyes are on you as a small smile creeps onto your lips and they're on you as you hide it and your blush by looking at the carpet. You squirm under the taunts of your friends and Will’s excited cheers. Nobody’s ever seen Bucky rendered speechless. Hell, he doesn’t think he’s ever been. Your smile is well deserved.

Mary nudges you. “I think you broke him.”

Bucky sees you bite your lip, now worried, and turn to Steve. “Maybe he needs to go home? He’s a bit red--”

“Oh no, he’s not leaving. It’s time to play Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Dot announces while clapping her hands, “Y/N and Bucky can go first.”

The seven minutes are spent talking, any teenage awkwardness overshadowed by the sheer comfortableness of your friendship. 

Bucky realizes he wants more.  More time, more you, more than friendship.

Perhaps Cupid’s arrow is not made of wood, but of a red and white glass catalyst.  Whatever it is, whoever shoots it, Bucky knows he’s grateful for that bottle.

Which is why he places another one on your grave, beside Steve’s flowers; the neck of it pointed towards the carved letters of your name.

“I miss our seven minutes in heaven, Y/N. I miss you.”

It is two weeks later that Bucky sees you again, this time at Coney Island on a Saturday.  You’re standing arm-in-arm with Mary, in line for the games. The fabric of your clothes flows lazily as the crowd moves around you.

“Go over there.”

“Hmm?”

“Go over there,” Steve repeats.

“What happened to the Cyclone? You promised you’d come, don’t back out on me, punk.”

“Bucky, you haven’t taken a girl out in weeks. You’ve clearly got it bad for her, jerk, now go.”

“Stevie...”

Steve considers Bucky for a long minute, taking in how he is shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets and his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, yet staring longingly at you. Bucky is surprisingly nervous. He has never been nervous to talk to a girl before.

They ride the Cyclone, and Steve throws up.

“Steve was playing matchmaker; can you believe it? Man,” he says, smiling softly, “I’m so grateful.”

A week of pining and not-so-subtle flirting goes by before Bucky finally asks you on a date, much to Steve’s relief. He had told Bucky that Will made a move on you that morning and you declined. Then Steve pushed him out of the apartment with the threat of “an ass-kicking if you don’t come back with a date.” Nerves be damned, Bucky spends the whole afternoon trying to find you, checking all your regular spots and catching you as you exit a store. You're adjusting your purse and your head raises when he calls your name.

“Y/N!”

Bucky walks backwards, facing you, looking behind him every few moments to make sure he doesn’t bump into anything.

“Hey, Bucky.”

“Going somewhere?”

You nod. “Dot’s asked me to come over.”

“Nah, you’re not going there. We’re doing something fun.”

“Steve said he heard the theatre’s playing a good one--”

“No, no, not with Steve.”

You gasp, holding a hand over your heart. “No Steve? You’re a terrible friend.”

“It must be Opposite Day, I’m a terrific friend. And I’m a boy too, I can show you how terrific of a boyfriend I am.”

Bucky bites his lip and runs his fingers up your arms to brush back your hair, and he blinks when you don’t swoon like other girls at the classic Barnes seduction technique. Had you not seen him in action over the years, maybe, just maybe, you might not have rolled your eyes. No matter how affectionately. It is then that he knows you will challenge him more than any of his trigonometry problems ever could. 

“I can’t ditch Dot...”

“You could...reschedule. Unless you two are meeting Will? Little birdie told me he was asking after you.”

“Steve’s such a gossip. No, we’re not seeing him, look out—”

He twists to avoid hitting a mailbox but he overshoots in excitement and whacks his elbow, making him bite his cheek to stop a colourful string of curses from escaping. All he wants to feel better is your hug, and that’s exactly what he goes for.  

“Ow.”

“Poor Bucky,” you say, your voice sympathetic and muffled by his shirt while your hands rub up and down his back. “Anything I can do?”

It’s clear you mean ice, or a bandage, but you walked right into it and it’s too good of an opportunity for him to ignore.

“Play hooky with me. You can see Dot tomorrow and tell her all about our spectacular date.”

“Spectacular, huh? What are we doing?”

“Well...” Bucky sways you back and forth, slowly walking you back to where you came from. He meets next to no resistance. In fact, you wind your arms tighter around him and prop your chin on his chest to meet his gaze.  “You’ll just have to find out, won't you?”

“You’re making me very curious.”

“Good. Means you’ll come with me.”

His mind is running wild with possible date spots when he hears them, and his head falls onto your shoulder. They're the unmistakable, undeniable sounds of Steve’s righteousness.

“Goddammit Steve.”

You giggle. It’s right in his ear and oh, how he loves the sound. “Go rescue him, the brave stubborn soul.”

“If you’ll go out with me. See? My elbow feels better already and I’ll need more hugs after pulling Stevie out.” You’re shaking your head in wonder at him, that teasing smirk on your lips again. “And I’m more fun than Dot, believe me!” 

Bucky pecks your cheek and runs off, calling over his shoulder, “Seven!” 

It is seven o‘clock, and Bucky has his fist raised, poised to knock on your door when it flies open.  

“Hello.”

Your smile, the one that has him hooked, knocks the wind out of him.  So does the dress that hugs you like it was custom-made. You look beautiful. Ethereal.

“Wow,” he breathes. “Hi.”

Part of being their friend means lounging in their apartment due to Steve’s health, so Bucky is used to seeing you in more casual wear or in his sweaters anytime you got cold.  Regardless of the outfit you’re stunning, but this date look is new and it’s making you glow and he’s more than a fan.

With the way you’re looking at him, you must be thinking the same thing: Bucky has parted his hair neatly and is looking smart in a pair of black dress pants and a blue button up that matches his eyes. His face is clean shaven, just the way you like it, and he’s wearing his best cologne.

“I must say, Barnes, you clean up well for dates,” you wink, running a finger under his chin before turning to lock your door.

“We’re just getting started, doll,” he assures you. 

Never breaking eye contact, Bucky takes your hand and brushes his lips across the knuckles. This gets a soft smile and linked hands, and his heart does a flip-flop. You keep the other on his upper arm while he takes you to the destination.

“Where are we off to, Mr. King of Spectacular Dates? Do I have to wear a blindfold?” 

“Patience is a virtue,” he teases, “And nope. Look! We’re on the way and no blindfold.”

“Give me a hint. No? Not even one? Okay. I’m calling you Mr. King of Secrets instead.”

“For future reference, Y/N, if I’m a king then you’re my queen.”

“You did tell me you'd get me a crown when we first met.”

“What do you think I’m getting you for your birthday?” Bucky grins and it’s rewarded by one of your own.

“I'll be sure to wear it every day.”

“As you should, Your Majesty.”

One night while watching the stars Steve, the hopeless romantic, had asked what was the perfect date? You had said a dinner on the docks; it's simple yet romantic, with the waves lapping at the wooden pier and serenading you as you get to know your companion.

Bucky had filed that information away for the future. Now is the future. It didn’t take too much for him to set up; he just had to call in a few favours with his chef friend, charm the local vendor into selling him your favourite fruit, and promise to switch shifts with the dock workers so they’d keep the area empty for the night. 

Slightly anxious, Bucky awaits your reaction when you reach the docks. Your eyes are wide and you're uncharacteristically quiet, having trailed off from telling him about your mom’s cousin and he’s worried you don't like it.

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand and is about to open his mouth to suggest something else but he doesn't have to.

“Bucky…this is...wow…” You speak in a whisper, and it is no whisper of dislike. Wonder, astonishment, but no dislike. Your gaze shifts from the meal on the candlelit table to Bucky. “I can't believe you remembered. I said that years ago.”

“Of course I remembered. I remember everything about you.”  

Your face reflects your awe and gratitude, and it's as if someone lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders: you like it. He just needs to know if it’s as perfect as he remembers the tone of your words being when you described it. 

“It's still true, right? What you said?”

“Yeah.”

Squeezing his hand, you go to the table and he helps you into your chair. You have dinner, your conversation easy and the food delicious, and halfway through you confess the date is more than spectacular. He wholeheartedly agrees. It’s the best date he’s ever been on and it's not even done. You’re the best date he’s ever had.

It's dark when Bucky walks you home, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, your intertwined hands swinging merrily while he recounts what happened at the docks last week.  It’s a silly little story, but it makes you light up and that’s all that matters.

If only the night could never end.

Dying to get more time with you, Bucky declares through your laughter that he's forgotten where your building is and kidnaps you for another lap of the block. You make him complete two more before he’s allowed to bring you to your doorstep. 

Bucky's ecstatic when you hold off on the goodbye by fiddling with your keys. As a gentleman he doesn’t want to overstep, but he really wants to kiss you goodnight.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky, I had a really great time,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You sigh happily when his encircle your waist. This too, feels right. Maybe he can kidnap you again.

“Mmm,” he hums, breathing in the intoxicating smell of your shampoo, “I did too. Cancel all your plans, doll, we're going out again tomorrow.”

You move but don’t go far. Still, touching noses isn't close enough for Bucky. “Dot won't be happy.”

“I’ll be happy. What do you say, Y/N?” He tilts his chin so his lips feather gently over yours. The taste of your exhales pleases his beating heart, which is screaming at the manners telling him to wait for permission. “Another spectacular date?”

Your eyes flutter closed. “Yes. Now kiss me already.”

It's soft and sweet, and when you melt into him, his eyes roll back into his head. With his previous lovers he is used to being in control, on solid ground. But you are making him fly, over the tallest of buildings, above the highest of clouds, and the feeling he got from the Cyclone is laughable compared to this. He's falling.

“Goodnight, Bucky, ” you say softly when you part, and your hand trails down the side of his face. He takes it and kisses your palm.

“Night, Y/N, see you tomorrow.”

You nod at his words, and turn to open the door. Unsuccessfully, because Bucky still has your hand and uses it to pull you back to him and steal another kiss, lacing your fingers as he does. You whack his arm when he doesn't let go but it’s light and he feels you smiling against his lips.

He’s falling, and has every intention of bringing you with him.

Walking away from your door, running a hand through his hair and grinning like a fool, Bucky stops when you call his name.

“I’ve made up my mind.  You’re really somethin’ Bucky Barnes, and that’s more than a compliment. It's fact.”

“Steve swore he could hear me cheering from blocks away...not sure if he ever told you that.”

He is 22 and he is in love.

“Bucky, please not there—“

“Why not? Dancing is fun!”

You draw circles in the dirt with your shoe and mumble, “I-I don’t know how,” to which he clicks his tongue in disagreement.

“Lying is bad, Y/N.”

“You’re so good, I’ll embarrass you.“

“You could never embarrass me, how could I be embarrassed when I have the best and prettiest girl in all of Brooklyn on my arm?”

“You could, if you saw my moves. I might even break your toe.”

“Doll, you’re being worse than Steve,” he sighs, and you pout. It’s adorable.

“Am not.”

Bucky takes your face in his hands and he kisses your nose, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. The trust in how you look at him is everything he’s ever dreamed about and wanted in a love, only it’s better and it’s you. 

“You are. I’ll be right there with you and it’ll be fun, I promise. Let me dance with my lovebug.”

“Okay. I hear our song playing, too.”

You let him lead you to the dance floor, and he thinks, for the millionth time, how perfect your hands fit in his. There have been many dates since the first one and the novelty still hasn’t worn off.

“Ah! Sorry!” you exclaim as you step on his foot again.

“It’s okay. You’re doing great, really fantastic! Now we go left,” he coaxes, guiding you through the movements. It takes a few songs, but he’s an excellent teacher and you’re a fast learner. “That’s it, Y/N, you’ve got it!”

Soon you have forgotten the steps and are simply dancing like nobody's watching.  Because nobody is: there is only you and him, him and you. The music swells and he is laughing and you are laughing, your hair coming undone from its style. Bucky spins you to make more pieces wild, because they frame your face and the sparkle in your eyes.

You are spinning. He likes it.

When a slow song comes on as the last dance of the night, Bucky brings you into him and, resting his forehead on yours, he places his hands at the small of your back. You close your eyes and your hands are warm on his neck.  After all the dancing, both of your heartbeats are fast, though Bucky can feel them slow in the comfort of each other’s arms.

He is 23 and he is in love.

With a phone he has the world in his pocket.  With you, he had the world in his arms.

But the world faces disaster; natural or manmade, none felt as devastating as the writing in that fateful envelope.

Drafted.

It is the best thing to have someone’s love. Though Bucky cannot feel his body much, your hands are on him, smoothing back his hair, wiping away the sweat, and it is nice.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know, Bucky, I know.”

You don’t say it, yet Bucky hears it loud. You don’t want him to go either. It’s not like he has a choice; his country needs him. If he did, he’d stay with you and Steve in an instant--

“How the hell am I going to tell Steve?!” He bolts up, eyes wide, and he searches your face for the answers he knows you don’t have.

“We’ll find a way,” you soothe, and you guide him back down to the bed. “Let’s get some sleep and think about that tomorrow.”

You lie on your side, facing him, the line of your waist as graceful as the curve of your smile. You reach out and trace the shape of his nose, his jaw, his collarbone.  It makes him shiver; you hurry to grab the blankets, but he isn’t cold.

“I didn’t know it then, but you were memorizing me, weren't you?”  

The first time Bucky notices you drawing a person, it surprises him.

The three of you are sitting on the fire escape as usual, breathing in the afternoon Brooklyn air. You and Bucky are reading a book together, his inner thighs pressed against your outer ones, and his arms are around your waist as you lean against him and read aloud. Steve is across from you, sketching who knows what, his eyebrows drawn into the line only art could cause. It’s perfect.

Then Steve wordlessly passes you the sketchbook, and you untangle yourself from Bucky and take Steve’s place.  He pushes the book into Bucky’s hands and insists, “Keep going.”

Bucky wants to question it, he really does, but the sound of your pencil scratching against the paper and the feeling of his best friend’s chin on his shoulder convince him that, maybe, he does not need to know. Not now, anyway. So he reads; he reads until Steve is shivering from the quickly disappearing sun and must go to bed, but you have not moved save for the satisfied, toothy smile you wear as you admire the sketchbook.

He shuts the novel. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothin’.”

“Y/N…”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.“ You set the sketchbook aside and resume your cuddles. You take one of his hands and kiss it. Bucky presses his lips to your temple, and his breaths tickle your ear when he speaks.

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Stevie knows.”

You stay quiet, and Bucky knows you well enough to wait for you to elaborate.  

“I asked him to help me with something. It’ll all be revealed tomorrow. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, lovebug.” You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, and he hums in appreciation. It’s peaceful like this, the stars watching over Bucky, you, and the rest of the city.  “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too.” He squeezes you once and you snuggle deeper into his embrace, linking your fingers with his other hand. “We’re going to sleep here? Okay. Are you warm enough?”

“Mhm, you’re warm,” you say, and promptly fall asleep.

Looking down at you, your soft snores rumbling against his body, Bucky’s sure he’s the luckiest man alive. You’re fast asleep by the time he closes his eyes.

Tomorrow comes, and you are not beside Bucky when he wakes up.  Neither you nor the sketchbook are anywhere in the apartment, and Bucky’s seriously wondering if you fell off the fire escape until you walk through the door, completely nonchalant. He wraps you a tight hug, making sure not to squish the sketchbook, which he supposes to be the reason for your disappearance. 

“If telling me you’re a magician is the secret, I don’t think I like it very much,” he mumbles, and you laugh.

“It’s not. I can show you my card tricks to prove it,” you say, releasing Bucky and knocking on Steve’s bedroom door. “Here’s the secret.”

You settle into breakfast with the boys, and pass out three sheets of paper. They all have the same drawing:  you and Bucky, reading, with Steve leaning on Bucky’s shoulder and looking at the book. It’s Steve’s drawing and your shading.

“It turned out great, Y/N.”  Steve bounces giddily.

“Yeah it did! Thanks again for the help, Stevie.” He pats your forearm. “The library’s photocopier works magic,” you wink at Bucky, but he’s too engrossed and he misses it.

What he thought was entirely Steve’s work has yours; the most noticeable parts being your definition of Bucky’s nose, jaw, and collarbone.The sketch is black and white, but all Bucky can see is colour.  He can see Steve’s hair shining, the last rays of light hitting it and turning it golden; the beauty of your hair behind your ear; the blue in his own eyes as he listens, his whole face relaxed.  

Below it are the words:  My home, and my family.

“I love it. I really do, this is amazing.” 

Steve signs his name on all three, and passes the pen along so you and Bucky can do the same. Bucky decides this is the picture he will bring with him.

“I brought it overseas, and you’d know better than me where it ended up. Steve’s a hoarder, by the way.” He glances at the blond, who is admiring the trees a few hundred yards away. ���He kept his sketchbook and I framed the new photocopy. It’s on my desk.”

The morning he leaves, you are not crying.  He can see it brewing under the surface, in your shuddering breaths when you think he can’t see, and he’s aware you will cry with Steve later. Right now, he is thankful.  Otherwise he’s not sure he could walk out the door or remotely hold it together here. You are strong for him and that is nearly everything he asks of you.

“James Buchanan Barnes. If you think I won’t be here the moment you come back, I’ll smack you.”

He kisses you, hard. He tries to give you all the words he has said before, the ones he cannot say, and the ones he is about to say.

“I love you so, so much,” he whispers.

“I love you so much, Bucky. Be safe, please.”

“Don’t you dare forget about me.”

“I could never. I’ll be waiting for my lovebug to come home.” You seal your promise with a tight hug and one last kiss. 

Tuberculosis, they told him, got you a year after he left. He supposes it is good, great even, that you never heard the stories of what he would become.

The next thoughts frighten: what if you saw it from heaven? Angels are omniscient, right? Will he have a chance at the afterlife with an angel?

Bucky wants more than seven minutes in heaven with you. He wants it more than anything.

The tears are forming hot and fast now, and he blinks, letting a couple slide down his cheeks, pause on his jaw and continue down his throat before he wipes them away. He swallows hard and collects himself.  You were strong for him, he can be strong for you.

The breeze passes through again, this time warmer.  It swirls around Bucky, running its fingers through the tendrils of his hair, slipping underneath his arms and caressing his cheek.  The air flies straight through his ribs to hug his heart just like you did when you curled up next to him.

It is then that he knows: whenever the serum wears off, in two weeks, in five years, in a hundred—when it does, you will be waiting for your more-than-seven-minutes together in heaven.

Bucky presses a lingering kiss to your name and then traces the epitaph.

“Goodbye, my lovebug.” 

Bucky stands, letting his fingers trail along the headstone curve, and reunites with Steve by a grip on his shoulder. They stay like that for a long time. The sun sets.

A home doesn’t need to be a house, and family doesn’t need to be related. I’ll never forget home.

{epitaph credit to this pin} 

A/N: thank you for reading❤️ 

TAGS (open!):  @wndas-romanoff  @whyisbuckyso @buckys-fossil  @bootypoppinbarnes @fxckmebuck @langinator @seeyainanothalifebrotha @secondstartotheright-imagines @canumoveyourseatup-no @the-renaissance @miraisnotavailable @winchesterandpie @supernatural-girl97 @aekr

[babsaros]

my first dnd campaign started heres how we did on our first game tonight lmao

we all met at a bar, “because it always starts in a bar” to quote the dm

our party is me (cowboy paladin), a cowboy fighter who was way tougher and had a way better  cowboy accent than me and drove us around on his mule cart, a very vain drow elf sorcerer that made a fool of himself a couple times, a very friendly gnome that said we were his best friends after knowing us for five minutes and was generally tolerated, and a guy that did most of our damage with his badass sword

we all got fucking wasted the first five seconds bc nobody was comfortable enough with each other to actually roleplay yet

and then we sat at a bounty board and argued about which bounty to take and only decided once the drow elf has talked himself in a complete 180

we got like 3 miles out of town and then there was a giant octopus in the sky

the gnome was also riding on the cowboy fighter’s back most of the time btw, bc he got drunk after one beer and the fighter was the one to wake him up and become his first best friend

so the drow elf identifies this thing as “hentai” and the fighter immediately shoots a crossbow at it

roll initiative lmao

the gnome tries to make peace with the octopus by hugging a tentacle

i swoop in to save him from the other 7 tentacles about to smash him, miss with my attack, and the octopus yanks my sword away.

the gnome immediately turns around, pulls off some badass sword acrobatics and gets my sword back. Coney is having a rough day.

the fighter keeps shooting it with the crossbow until the octopus strikes back and one-shots him into the fuckin dirt and then grabs him up and just fucking inks everywhere.

the drow elf is on the outskirts of the ink cloud trying to get the ink stains out of his clothes

dm let everybody who cast a spell describe what it looked like and let the sword guy who finally killed the octopus describe his sick finishing move

i let the gnome and the sword guy sit for a minute trying to do medicine checks and cpr on the fighter before i pulled them out of the way and just healed him. bc i’m a paladin.

drow elf made not-bad calamari. i pulled a mysterious organ out of the octopus. the drow elf took off the octopus’ beak and put it on the gnome like a hat. then the guy playing the gnome mentioned he didn’t know what was meant by beak bc english isn’t his first language and dm sent a gross pic of an octopus beak for him. the sword guy took a tentacle and just put it in his bag.

then we decided to go home bc that was enough for us

on the way home we stopped by the beach and met a bear? made out of sand? and it let us pet him? so now we get to add that little mystery to our to-do list

we woke the mayor up and he met us in his underwear just so we could make him give us gold and tell us he didn’t know y f there was an octopus in the sky. we did some rlly bad persuasion checks so that he’d give the fighter 5 extra gold for almost dying.

we lvled up to lvl 2 wow

all in all it was pretty good. dm was pretty laidback and cool, but he was a little caught off guard bc we had originally planned to play tomorrow and not tonight so he didn’t have some of the shit ready. there were some fun bits but also some awkward silences. i needa get better at actually talking? like my guy has a really laidback personality but still i should actually say some shit more often yanno? but i think we just gotta get more comfortable with each other so we’ll see. also the i gotta fuck around with the program we’re using and figure out how to use it... i think i’m gonna multiclass as a bard too bc the fighter multiclassed as rogue so i’m gonna try to go the healing-protector route.

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/panic-and-confusion-permeate-white-house-following-trumpscovid-diagnosis-the-guardian/

Panic and confusion permeate White House following Trump's Covid diagnosis - The Guardian

Golden autumn sunshine shone down on Washington on Saturday to illuminate a US capital upended as Donald Trump began his first full day in hospital battling coronavirus amid a presidential election thrown into chaos.

Just hours earlier, on Friday evening after an excruciating wait for news, the president had emerged from the White House with a lacklustre wave and thumbs up, but ignoring reporters’ shouted questions about the state of his health.

Trump stalked slowly across the south lawn and boarded the US presidential helicopter. The only visual clue that something profound had changed was Trump’s face: he was wearing a mask.

As Marine One lifted into the sky just before sunset, the president left behind a White House staff suddenly rudderless, fearful and unsure how the story will end. The reality TV star turned president has delivered his greatest moment of suspense and the presidential election with its first “October surprise” but maybe not its last.

Trump, 74, is spending the weekend at a military hospital near Washington after discovering that not even the commander in chief of the world’s most powerful country is immune to the coronavirus. Said to be feverish and fatigued, there is huge uncertainty over his condition, its potential to deteriorate and whether he might become incapacitated.

Trump films message before leaving for Covid treatment in hospital – video

In his absence, the mood in the White House was said to be one of panic, with growing concern over the extent of the spread of the virus within the building and whether it could disrupt the functioning of government.

Staff have taken their lead from Trump’s bubble of denial for months, eschewing face masks and congregating in the west wing’s cramped spaces and narrow hallways. The president’s positive test was chilling proof of what the rest of the country has long known: no one is safe.

“People are losing their minds,” one source told the Washington Post newspaper.

As Friday wore on and Trump’s conditioned worsened, staff were also forced to confront the possibility that his health could be at serious risk. An information vacuum filled with rumour and speculation and did little to calm nerves, with media outlets forced to depend on leaks from anonymous officials or presidential tweets such as: “Going welI, I think! Thank you to all. LOVE!!!”

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The heavily guarded White House is one of the world’s most secure properties with a new 13ft tall fence to keep out intruders, protesters and terrorists. Yet it too was breached by the invisible pathogen that has killed more than 205,000 Americans. Commentators said there could be no greater proof of the administration’s failure to combat the pandemic.

How, when or from whom Trump became infected remains a mystery. But the myth of invulnerability may have been finally shattered by an event in the White House Rose Garden last Saturday in which he nominated judge Amy Coney Barrett to the supreme court. More than 150 guests sat close together without face masks, apparently lulled into thinking it was safe to do so in the open air.

But eight attendees – Trump, the first lady Melania Trump, senior aide Hope Hicks, former White House counselor Kellyanne Conway, Senators Mike Lee and Thom Tillis, University of Notre Dame president John Jenkins and junior staffer – have all since tested positive for the virus.

On Saturday morning it emerged that the Trump re-election campaign manager Bill Stepien had also tested positive, fueling more chaos into the election. Deputy campaign manager Justin Clark is set to run the Trump campaign headquarters in Stepien’s absence.

After last Saturday’s Rose Garden celebration, an event which continued with receptions indoors at the White House, Trump spent a whirlwind week campaigning for the 3 November presidential election.

On Tuesday there was a chaotic and dismal debate with rival Joe Biden in Cleveland, Ohio, where many of his entourage sat unmasked in contrast to the Democrat’s team, who strictly followed the protocols.

On Thursday, Trump attended a political fundraiser at his golf club in Bedminister, New Jersey, even though he was aware he had been exposed to the infected Hicks. That night, sounding unconcerned, he gave an interview to Sean Hannity of Fox News, apparently blaming the military or law enforcement for violating physical distancing: “They want to hug you and kiss you because we really have done a good job for them. You get close, and things happen.”

Trump’s revelation that he was positive came in perhaps the most momentous tweet of his entire presidency just before 1am on Friday. At last, critics said, a man notorious for dealing in disinformation and fantasies had to face a cold scientific truth he could not wish, insult or tweet away.

He also referred to it in the tweet correctly as Covid-19, having previously referred to the disease in public remarks variously as “the China virus”, the plague and “kung flu”.

Later that morning, the White House tried to project an air of business-as-usual. Officials Mark Meadows, Larry Kudlow and Kayleigh McEnany all sought to assure reporters that Trump was in good spirits and had only mild symptoms.

Yet by the afternoon, there was evidence of growing gap between spin and reality. It was announced that Trump had been injected with an experimental drug combination and, “out of an abundance of caution”, would be flown to hospital. The otherwise routine Marine One journey gave many in Washington a sense of witnessing history unfold before their eyes.

Howard Fineman, a journalist, tweeted: “I’ve seen and heard many indelible moments here in DC over the years, but nothing like Marine One flying over our neighborhood bound for Walter Reed, bearing a president struck, like millions of others, by global pandemic. Unsettling, scary. Politics is stilled for just a moment.”

Officials said Trump’s stay of a few days at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center is precautionary and that he will continue to work from the hospital’s presidential suite, which is equipped to allow him to keep up his official duties.

But the hospitalisation represents the gravest threat to an incumbent US president’s health since 1981 when Ronald Reagan survived a would-be assassin’s bullet outside a Washington hotel and received emergency medical attention.

Trump’s age, sex, obesity and elevated cholesterol put him at greater risk of becoming seriously ill from a virus that has infected more than 7 million people nationwide. If he declines sharply and is unable to carry out his responsibilities, he could transfer power to the vice-president, Mike Pence, under the 25th amendment to the constitution. Pence tested negative for the virus on Friday.

Bill Whalen, a research fellow at the Hoover Institution think tank at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, said: “The dominoes are multiple. There’s the question of his ability to campaign in person moving ahead. There’s the question of his ability to have the office right now: the 25th amendment. I’ve talked to some of my conservative friends who think he should be invoking this right now.

“I hate to speculate like this, but what if his health did deteriorate rather fast to the point where either he was unconscious or just delirious? Then the vice-president, the cabinet, would have to step in and do this, so there’s actually a school of thought that he should invoke it proactively.”

The US government has a long history of opacity when it comes to presidents’ health and the Trump White House, in particular, suffers from a trust deficit.

Doctors outside Walter Reed medical center on Saturday. Photograph: Susan Walsh/AP

Kurt Bardella, a senior adviser to the anti-Trump group the Lincoln Project, said: “What we’re seeing is a very healthy scepticism about anything that comes from the White House. These are the same people who have been lying about everybody else’s health terms of the impact of Covid-19, so why would we expect any differently when they’re talking about themselves?”

Dan Rather, a veteran journalist who reported on Richard Nixon’s downfall in 1974, added on Twitter: “What we don’t know is a lot more than what we do know. And we have an administration that long ago squandered its credibility. All coverage of this crisis should keep these truths in mind for context.”

His next debate with Biden, scheduled for 15 October, is in doubt. As well as Stepien testing positive for Covid-19, so has key ally Ronna McDaniel, the head of the Republican National Committee, and former New Jersey governor Chris Christie, who helped coach Trump for the first debate with Biden. Despite Trump’s attempts to change the conversation, for example with Barrett’s court nomination, the pandemic remains the defining issue at the ballot box.

Glen Bolger, a Republican pollster, told the Associated Press: “It’s challenging. It would be better if the discussion was about jobs and the economy, or even Joe Biden is going to ‘be held captive to the left’. But the election is going to be about coronavirus, and that’s not favourable terrain for Republicans.”

[frankiebones]

CALL IT A MANIFESTO by THOMAS KELLEY

CALL IT A MANIFESTO: Frankie Bones’ Techno Classic Still Rhymes to the Future

“It Started In Detroit / But I Had to Exploit / The Way I Hear It! / Techno House Is the Sound / From the Dance Cult Underground / I Know You Feel It!” —second verse from Frankie Bones’ ‘Call It Techno,’ June 4, 1989

Before the last hurrahs of the 20th century, from the first Gulf War to the Monica Lewinsky affair, a Brooklyn rebel laid down words for a movement that was short on them. Scrawling them on paper, he devised a message with the force of a freight train, giving it a rhyme and flow that struck across the distance: “Detroit,” “exploit,” “techno house,” “sound,” “dance cult,” “underground.”

But who was this Frankie Bones? There’s no way of answering that without the word “techno” and everything it means. Techno of the past. Techno of the future. Techno, now. His story, which encompasses the American journey of breakbeat grafted to the metronome — the hybrid of polyrhythm and the 4/4 beat — that would define dance music from jazz to rock, disco to electro, onto hip hop, house, techno, rave and “EDM,” evolving without end, is critical to understanding the direction of Western music.

He was a white hip hop kid whose father was murdered by a black man. He was defiant and never afraid to speak his mind. And so, in 1989, he declared his love for a mixed up sound. He wrote lyrics that talked about a new beat that was so strong it was all he could talk about. He described how it was mutating and where it was going. He put his finger on the wire.

He could do that because he knew the shock of loss. Techno was his salvation: Frank Mitchell, who became “Frankie Bones,” survived tragedy through his love of black music, and that’s how he made it his own.

Now, almost thirty years afterits initial release, in honor of his enduring contributions and the fiery urgency of Bones’ career, Carl Cox’s Intec label picked Bones’ landmark anthem ‘Call It Techno’ for a remix E.P. The new edition, which came out in November, includes a sleek, commissioned remix by Bones, along with interpretations by hotshots Raito and Carlo Lio, plus a heavy filtered b-side: ‘Light It Up.’

To understand what was going through his head when he created the original, Ghost Deep talked to Bones about the deep varied currents and rocky urban places that inspired his words (see the full Q&A below).

Like reefs under the waves, each verse of ‘Call It Techno’ described a world within worlds. You had to hear it down below the flash. And then you could feel it— and know, that the future was here. Hearing energetic electrons pushing sound through the air at early raves, generated a cultish religiosity, filled with optimism about the great electronic unknown, a heady convergence of humanity and new technology.

And yet, for most of the world, it was a slow takeover. Mass hysteria had visited pop culture before in the form of Elvis Presley’s gyrating rock ’n’ roll and the “devil music” backlash, and in the form of Beatle-mania. But the “dance cult underground” was different. In America, it was a decades-long insurgency thumped out one renegade party at a time. Kicking off almost 30 years after the 1960s — during the height of the AIDS epidemic — it was more secret and more subversive than rock, moving unseen in the shadows.

Looking back on it now, few were ready for it. “The techno wave has grown / with a style of our own / direct from Brooklyn!” declared Bones. “Essential funk, kick and snare / make you feel it over there / out in London!” And the chorus: “We call it techno! / You can feel the bass! / Call it techno! / Techno bass, bass!”

You could hear the ferocity and fervor in his voice, cresting over the waves of hybrid sound, slinging fully formed ideas in street code with a common touch, set to the crunching breaks of hip hop and electro, the sensual groove of C + C Music Factory’s ‘Seduction,’ with ghostly synths hovering in like the fog.

With simple words and his “techno house sound,” Bones was addressing the emergence of a global underground. He was talking to London, and Detroit, and connecting the power cables near the Hudson. And he wasn’t going to take shit from no one.

Computer Noise And Pounding Bass / Hits You In the Face / Like A Hammer

And yet no one really knew how to talk about it. True, there were the visionary words of Juan Atkins on Detroit techno classics, like ‘No UFO’s’ and ‘Night Drive (Thru Babylon),’ both from 1985. Or the gospel call and response of Bernard Fowler on N.Y.C. Peech Boys’ ‘Life Is Something Special,’ going back to 1982 — “Can you feel it!?” — on to Chicago house anthems like Larry Heard’s ‘Can You Feel It?’ and Marshall Jefferson’s ‘Move Your Body.’

But the difference is no one had described the movement those songs inspired in stark international terms— a techno-social wave that would go on to sweep the world. The clues were just barely knowable, if not yet universal (read the full lyrics to ‘Call It Techno’). After the tumult of the ’60s and ’70s, Westerners were just starting to formulate feelings about the great leaps ahead, from the end of the Cold War to the Information Revolution to China’s economic rise to today’s cyber delusional storms. As life accelerated through the ’90s, the past seemed to recede with ever greater speed.

Until it didn’t. Today, the Cold War is back. The truth is on life support. And the shadows of the Great Depression linger in antsy brains. As Bones is fond of noting, the inverse of techno’s manifest destiny also applies: when the past meets the present, that’s when the future arrives.

The same year ‘Call It Techno’ went to press, the first internet service providers went commercial. Communism ebbed away in Eastern Europe. The Berlin Wall came down. The same day Bones put out his single, the Chinese government murdered and bulldozed students protesting for democracy in Tiananmen Square. At the other end of the spectrum, corporate control of Western music ensured pop vanilla from the likes of Rick Astley, Richard Marx, Skid Row and Milli Vanilli, ruled the airwaves.

The following year? Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice Ice Baby.’

Imagine that. No, really. Imagine. Imagine if it was all “Word to your mother”?

If free-thinking people were to survive the transitions, AND transgressions, of the ’90s and beyond — into hacked identities and Russian brainwashing, from smartphone addictions all the way to real Fake News and Fake Intelligence (A.I. or otherwise) — then they would need an underlying context that reminded them how they got there and who they are.

For many, that grounding would be techno — the Music of Machines.

Bones brought a powerful subtext to that riddling context. A native son of New York City, he grew up next to train tracks in Brooklyn, tagging brick walls with his graffiti call sign, “BONES” (given to him for his wiry, skinny frame), crawling through subway tunnels, chowing down hot dogs at Coney Island, tearing it up at disco roller rinks, and mining records with every cent he got.

Once he became a man, he picked up the mic. His father died four years before he recorded ‘Call It Techno.’ He could talk about himself. Or he could talk about the city he loved. He could talk about his anguish. Or he could talk about the unifying beat at the heart of the world.

So he wrote five verses that gave voice to a critical moment in time, this New Yorker bringing a hip hop attitude to the techno dance party. He punctuated the emerging technological groove with a sense of mission. He told the story of rave’s birth, of cold cities giving harbor to the blues of former slaves, of a flash point in Europe, of Brooklyn crashing London in the cover of night.

We’re a long way from 1989. But sifting through the story on ‘Call It Techno,’ the same stakes have little changed and his defiance applies now more than ever. Asking the Johnny Appleseed of Techno about how his manifesto came to be, he explains the experiences and records that informed his style, and how “rave” was just revolution by another name.

GHOST DEEP: ‘Call It Techno’ talks about the Brooklyn style. Can you define what that style is and where it came from?

Frankie Bones: In 1978 and 1979, two iconic movies being Saturday Night Fever and The Warriors, were stories written for and about Brooklyn. But that being said, living in Brooklyn in the 1970s and 1980s was an identity crisis, a period of uncertainty and confusion in which a person’s identity is questioned due to a change in their expected roles in society.

That was Brooklyn Style. It wasn’t a style at all. It was more just about survival in the streets. If you claimed a style, you were going to be picked on and bullied.

An earlier Brooklyn film from 1974, titled The Education Of Sonny Carson,depicts this even better, and I only mention that because John Travolta was first appearing on a TV show called Welcome Back Kotter, also based in the same Brooklyn neighborhood Saturday Night Fever was based a few years later: Bensonhurst, Bay Ridge, Coney Island — our stomping grounds.

What else was going on in Brooklyn at that time that inspired you?

We moved into Flatbush, 982 East 38 Street to be exact, last house on the left of a dead end street, on August 7, 1973. Put the address in the search bar and you can see a small modest house. It was more beautiful back then. This was the same weekend Kool Herc threw the very first hip-hop party in the Bronx. I was seven.

But I began collecting records early on. Very early on. Because I lived next to railroad tracks and there was a flea market only a few blocks away.

This is hillarious, but the scene in Boyz In The Hood — “You wanna see a dead body?” — the railroad tracks next to my house were exact and the same. I never saw a dead body, but there were things. Things to explore, things to break, to light on fire. There is a sense of isolation on freight train tracks, especially in a city as big as Brooklyn. The World Trade Center was just completed. New York City was changing.

When those movies came out though, we lived our lives through those stories. We wrote graffiti. We did hip hop. Breakdancing. Our young friends also became famous years later. It was dangerous and yet exciting.

Who were those young friends who became famous and what did they become famous for?

They were mainly graffiti artists such as Ghost, Reas, JA, Kaves and my brother who wrote as Ven. They left a mark which lasted decades. Otherwise, producers like Omar Santana and Carlos Berrios, who did rather well in the music industry.

So that’s the emotional background to the song, this mixed up identity of New York City in the ’70s and ’80s. So what were you trying to capture in terms of the future with the song’s lyrics and vocal delivery?

‘Call It Techno’ was written after we first got the phone call to play at these big all-night raves in London. I worked with Northcott Productions: Silvio Tancredi (R.I.P.) and Tommy Musto.

They had just built a studio and office for their label, which became Fourth Floor, on 25 West 38th Street. We started making tracks every single day. We had a pressing plant. We were distribution and independent. I started working there in 1987. After one year and lots of releases, a weird trend became totally visible to us and us only: we were shipping more records to London than we were selling States-side.

This began in 1988. And it was my Bonesbreaks 2 where there was this massive paradigm shift. London was going through some sort of revolution in our eyes because the records magically just started to have a big demand in the U.K. and we wanted to know why.

Right, so the concept for ‘Call It Techno’ first came from that London connection?

Well, we get the phone call. We knew it was coming actually. I remember getting that offer to come and play in London. I had already had steady DJ gigs in New York, but they were talking about 5,000 people parties in London. With just DJs.

This was unheard of in New York City. New York had mega-clubs: Paradise Garage, Studio 54, Fun House, etc. But it never had multiple DJs per night. It just didn’t happen. You got “track acts,” live P.A.s performing. But unless you were Jam Master Jay performing with Run-DMC, you were not going to DJ in these clubs. They had one resident DJ only. And you had to produce commercial music to create a buzz.

We actually had already done that with freestyle and electro, but in 1987, house music became the sound and it had evolved through disco. The Chicago and Detroit styles were strictly underground-based and filtered to DJs who spent time in record stores.

So if this new sound was filtering into New York DJs over time, did techno need such a manifesto in your opinion? What were the thoughts you debated in putting words to what has often been wordless music?

The paradigm shift I mentioned was from Bonesbreaks 2 [1988]. We were just fucking around with these bizarre mash-ups, which were basically breakbeats and house and smashing TR-Roland 808 drum machines and the preferred Casio RZ-1 synthesizer, over us just mixing records and releasing them as DJ tools. Knowing that was way over the top for 1988 standards and hearing that our records were in higher demand than the previous Chicago and Detroit releases were in London, a bell went off in my head.

I went in and made a freestyle song using Detroit Techno sounds. I perform the song. Cut out the middlemen, who were actually young female singers who sang on our songs. I was quite successful writing popular freestyle tracks at the time. I did a ton of ghostwriting for Omar Santana and Carlos Berrios, who were also making big waves in their careers. And I always loved Egyptian Lover’s records from ‘Egypt, Egypt’ onward. 2 Live Crew. “I could do this.” No problem.

I didn’t actually ever have a problem writing hip hop songs. My only issue was being this kind of goofy white kid from Brooklyn who already knew the stakes well in advance. I knew in advance that I was going to London to DJ, and have an opportunity to have no limits and no boundaries.

‘Call It Techno’ was my way of arriving with a new passport and telling the Brits, “Hey, I get it.” You guys are some kind of “Dance Cult from the Underground and Techno House is the Sound.”

Tech-house? In 1989? Imagine that.

Hold Up / Wait A Minute / Let Me Put Our / Bass In It

Bones opened up Groove Records in 1990, a small record store in the multiethnic Bensonhurst enclave of Brooklyn, that focused on selling techno vinyl. It would later reincarnate as the long running Sonic Groove record store, in partnership with his younger brother Adam (known best as Adam X) and Heather Lotruglio (better known as DJ Heather Heart). Their business would go under following the cultural and economic aftershocks of 9/11.

But the year after ‘Call It Techno’ impacted dance floors, the future opened wide with a sense of possibility. For over a decade Bones and his crew would help lead the “dance cult underground’ in various capacities. Infamously, they jump-started the New York rave scene by throwing their gutsy “Storm Raves.” They cut bolt locks and set up speaker stacks in brickyards and train yards. They wired their gear into street lamps for power, jacking into the city’s electric grid, setting up a parallel universe of uncompromising music.

It was that same Brooklyn Style that Bones talks about — improvisational and risky. In the early ’80s, as is widely misreported, disco had “died.” But a only few years later, it came back as a robot. In abandoned warehouses across the Hudson and under bridges, the great cosmopolis, the Big Apple, got its “computer noise and pounding bass.”

Bones made good on the spirit of ‘Call It Techno.’ He captured, predicted and helped carry out its proclamations. But in many ways, New York just as easily could have stayed a hip hop town speckled with underground disco haunts — one without the pulse, the other without the boom.

It was that intersection that always caught his ear. He heard it in Afrika Bambaata and the Soul Sonic Force. He heard it in Cybotron’s ‘Clear.’ That intense connection to funk.

He loved electro and hip hop for their hybrid, diverse energy. He loved how they cut through barriers. When his father, who drove taxis for an extra source of income, was killed, it was the young Bones’ love of hip hop at a time when the city was seething with racial strife, that helped him channel his sorrow in a more hopeful direction.

It’s those shards of life and music that helped define his unique sound. He’s not only a DJ who conjures mayhem from the decks but who writes dark, wily records like 2017’s excellent ‘I’m Taking Control,’ and who can slam words over songs and DJ sets on the fly. He sees the world in terms of rhyme.

GHOST DEEP: The lyric “It started in Detroit / but I had to exploit / the way I hear it” pays homage to Detroit’s genesis of “techno.” When did you first hear a Detroit techno record?

Frankie Bones: The untold story of Juan Atkins, who I dearly respect, but what people never caught onto. ‘Clear’ by Cybotron. Juan produced it in 1982. Legendary Electro. Everyone knows ‘Clear.’ Clearly Juan has stated time and time again that he never heard ‘Planet Rock’ when he penned ‘Clear.’ He didn’t hear it.

I know Juan dearly for many years and he is an honest and truthful man. The can of worms opens when you read the record label. It says MIXED BY JOSE “ANIMAL” DIAZ — a New York DJ whose mix was modeled 100% to the mold of ‘Planet Rock.’ Find Juan’s original from the album. I always pay attention to detail. The original song sounded like an electro-funk song of its era, with no bottom end.

‘Planet Rock’ had changed everything and it was a New York classic straight out of the crate. The music was made in big session studios with big budgets. $150 an hour type stuff. It wasn’t made in someone’s bedroom.

So was that Detroit record the first techno record you ever heard?

Cybotron, yes, but Juan’s Metroplex records, which were electro and not labelled techno, fueled the fire all the way through, from 1982 on. It allowed me to realize there were people making these type of records outside of the New York electro scene: Miami, Detroit and Hollywood. We were making “Electro,” “Freestyle,” and “Breaks,” and most of it filtered through hip hop, where it wasn’t really taken seriously.

What is Detroit techno in your book? Where did it come from that is not often talked about, like the cultural strains that it evolved from?

Yes, I absolutely can, with an award from Detroit’s Metro Times newspaper giving me the 1999 Best DJ award for my four-year residency at Motor Lounge as an outside talent.

I was a natural for Detroit, being from Brooklyn. Mad Mike Banks from Underground Resistance and I have been dear friends since 1992, just because “I get it.” I wasn’t just let in. Detroit cats will test every single bone in your body before letting you just come into town and feel at home. Eminem had me so confused in 1999… He chose me to DJ his homecoming party.

But getting back to what “Detroit” is? It’s a people mover. Like the little train downtown that loops around in Downtown Detroit and doesn’t do anything much more than go around in circles in one direction only. Kind of like a record on a turntable. Motown left to California along with more than half of the city’s population. The ‘67 Riots ripped a hole into the heart of the city. The people who stayed worked for General Motors, Ford, etc.

I find most of the kindest, warm hearted people in Detroit. People who respect you for the character in your soul rather then the color of your skin. Their music was their only escape. The only way to have faith in the future in Detroit, was through music.

Without it, they would have not been able to survive.

So then on the Belleville Three — Detroit techno originators Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson and Derrick May — you call out Juan in particular on the record label sticker for ‘Call It Techno.’ Why did you call out Juan specifically?

There is no such thing as the “Belleville Three.” It’s a myth. But let me explain. It’s because I know Juan, Derrick and Kevin as individuals. They were on the same timeline, which makes them a trio. But not for one minute is there any “band” there.

I remember Metroplex when it was Metroplex. KMS [Kevin Saunderson’s label]. Transmat [Derrick May’s label]. I can go deeper into that with Fragile, Planet E, Accelerator, UR. I gave the shout-out to Juan because ‘Clear’ is clearly layered throughout ‘Call It Techno.’ I didn’t sample Kevin or Derrick on the record.

The thing is, there are so many different samples on the original track, you just hear layers of sounds, sometimes when you combine sounds, they cancel each other out, but if you go back and listen, it’s clear as day.

The label notes also call out Seduction’s (Clivilles & Cole) house classic, ‘Seduction.’ When did you first hear that record? Why did you choose to use that bass line?

The original mix of ‘Call It Techno’ says “House Mix.” The bass line was the preferred sound in NYC house music at the time in 1989. Todd Terry, Kenny and Louie [Masters At Work] were big on bass lines. C + C Music Factory [Robert Clivilles and David Cole] just kind of made anything underground into a pop success because they were a great production team.

So when I said “Hold up, wait a minute,” the bass line comes in as a friend. Like “this techno stuff is weird, I don’t like it”… I put the bass line in so you can calm down, not lose any mascara, so I can get into my next verse. I mean, I got five verses, which was a lot for any song.

Right, speaking of, in another great verse, the lyric “In the club or in your car / the sound will take you far / we know you feel it,” says a lot about the contexts in which you were listening to techno at the time. Were you playing mixtapes in the car? Were you hearing techno on the radio?

Mixtapes and car systems in 1989 were like peanut butter and jelly as a kid. It just made fucking sense. But in 1989, techno was not played anywhere in New York City. Not even by the most underground DJ.

Those who did follow Chicago Trax, did get their first taste through acid house. But again, talking about paradigm shifts, Todd Terry was instrumental in making house music popular in New York by sampling Chicago songs and old electro cuts, and making house cool for everyone in the streets. Prior to that, house music was a clique or a club. A camp even.

You had to be down with the people in the scene to be a part of that. That began to change in 1987.

The lyric “House was once innovative / but now we’re in a state of / acid”seems to be saying that acid house was a leap forward. You follow that“With acid house there was confusion / over a drug use illusion / but I don’t use it.” In respects to “techno” and “house,” where does “acid” or “acid house” fit in from your perspective?

We arrived to play at Energy in the U.K. on August 26, 1989, to find the largest event in its history currently in progress — where the 5,000 people expected became 25,000 people and “acid house” was all the rage.

Their media called these parties “Wild Acid House Parties” with kids going insane from doing LSD. Nobody was on LSD. Not one person. Ecstasy was pure MDMA and I would imagine that every single person was doing it because it was so freaking awesome….how bout dat?

The state of acid was the confusion between a Roland TB-303 Acid Box and the drug known as LSD. The ability to have a machine make sounds that made people think you were on drugs and once that happened, the innovation was gone. Chicago had already made acid house. They were moving onto 1990.

People like Hardfloor, Josh Wink, Richie Hawtin, Misjah & Tim, and Underground Resistance, gave the 303 a second life in my opinion.

So then I want to ask you specifically about the phrase “techno house.” What do you mean by that exactly? I bring it up because like “EDM,” these words have lost a lot of their meaning because the context has shifted so much.

“Techno House was the sound of the Dance Cult Underground out in London.” The U.K. birthright of rave was mostly house music. But they green-lighted techno with the arrival of the “Techno” albums that Neil Rushton put out on 10 Records (a label) before his Network label came to life.

But to appreciate real Detroit techno, as this British revolution was happening, was the biggest blessing of all. And when I use the word blessing, it’s the feeling of being in the middle of 17,500 people dancing to ‘Strings Of Life’ as the sun comes up at 6 a.m.

Then in your mind, is techno an American sound or a U.K. sound or a global sound? Or both, and how?

Techno IS the future. Maybe the future past by now. But I believe it was absolutely global. That being said, “It started in Detroit,” while exploiting what happened next.

And Now You See How We Rock / Without The Kid Down The Block / Party People

A cult is a closed community, as is a club. Whether we’re talking about Charles Manson’s murderous “Family” or Pink Floyd’s late ’60s psychedelic UFO club. When you get there, you close the door. You maybe even lock it. But the “underground” means something bigger. It’s not just a congregation or an inconspicuous place. It’s an idea, about the freedom of ideas, that undergirds the whole counter-cultural continuum. Anyone can come and go. The only constant is an obsession with the unknown.

For ideas to survive, they must find a wider audience. ‘Call It Techno’ was built to last in this way. Bones’ new remix rumbles deeper down. His voice is lower, but renewed with vigor. Twenty-eight years in his head, his words roll out with ease, un-rushed, tempered by the vision of someone who has seen it all. Drums trickle up to the sky like reverse rain. Bass wakes the primal spirit. It’s the dawn within the night.

Bones’ generation, Generation X, grew up in the shadows of the Baby Boom, from Vietnam to Woodstock to Trump. America sleepwalked. So when electrons woke kids up with loud synthetic bass, it revealed the power of disembodied funk. The question was, could they absorb it, and then express their innermost thoughts?

By the late ’80s, it all seemed to connect in a series of wild chain reactions. While much of the change pulsed from Silicon Valley and Washington D.C., in the form of technological and political change, musically speaking, even bigger explosions and tectonic shifts were emanating from Berlin, Tokyo, Manchester, London, Detroit, Chicago, Los Angeles, and of course, New York City.

Techno was a cyber dimension on a par with the Web itself. It was open to anyone, long before Snapchat, Facebook or Cozy Bear. At its best, it was about the freedom of thought. It wasn’t mind control, even if its repetitive sounds worked with the efficiency of computer algorithms. Because its true genius was human. That was as clear as day in the hands of Bones. The continued relevance of ‘Call It Techno,’ both in its old and new forms, demonstrates how effective that contrast was, in teaching the oppressed how to face the future: Imaginations can always dance to a kind of clairvoyance — skeletal in its precision and voluptuous in its impressions.

And yet, 30 years into this revolution, it appears the world needs an anchor more than a cutting prow. Demographic silos and data clouds have whipped many of us into a kind of mass psychosis. Human nature is hardcoded and no robot can erase it, only take advantage of it. Still, the underground runs deeper in our collective O.S., the unconscious. When it comes to “techno house,” you have to go back to the era of MS-DOS floppy disks and vinyl-based “EDM” to locate today’s most important invocation.

In fact, the first vinyl pressing of ‘Call It Techno’ was floppy. It bends with gravity. As if it could turn to liquid — our grip on reality.

Because the world forgets. Until someone picks up a microphone. Right now it’s champagne and tax cut kicks, to the backdrop of Charlottesville and Great Recession amnesia. The question remains the same, because we’ve been here before. Where is our humanity?

Engraved on a tombstone is a roller skate. It simply says:

“Miles Mitchell, Devoted Husband & Father — Forever in Our Hearts.”

He was taken away by a single bullet. Bones’ father was “cool as fuck,” he says. He loved rock, and he loved disco, he loved to dance, and he loved to skate. Bones never forgot. “Considering how many miles I have traveled through techno, I believe he would be proud.”

Miles’ son does a neat thing on his new remix. He chuckles as he did on the original, but this time calls out his production partner, Christopher Petti. He did the same back in 1989, like the hip hop M.C.’s of old, calling out the Brooklyn Funk Essentials crew, keeping it democratic.

That’s why ‘Call It Techno’ is timeless. We need words, even if it takes a generation to find the right ones, reconstructed within lines of concentration, mixed with grace, in a rhythm. And it can’t be lived through phones.

In a club or in your car, that series of images or memories forms ideas, put down on paper or in a song, pouring back out into psyches, before resolving into new letters and codes — core to you —like bones.

GHOST DEEP: Who is the “kid down the block” when you call out to “party people”? Why was it important to have an archetypal blocker to resist, to lead folks your own way?

Frankie Bones: Ha ha…It was actually aimed at Todd Terry, who actually did live down the block at the time. He had a very big impact on the industry in 1988 and 1989, and until I went to the U.K., I had felt that I wasn’t getting any respect in New York and when I did ‘Call It Techno,’ I switched up the style knowing I was doing that for London.

You rap about the “essential funk” of “kick and snare.” How is funk “essential” to techno? How are the “kick” and “snare” important? Is it about polyrhythm and syncopation?

Lenny Dee and Victor Simonelli were known as The Brooklyn Funk Essentials in 1988. They were hired by Arthur Baker, who was God to us as teenagers because of ‘Planet Rock’ in 1982. Arthur Baker basically made the 808 record of its era. It was the first time you heard an 808 kick like that.

As far as syncopation goes, it’s huge. It holds it all together the way your neighbors’ kids’ grunge band could never. Everything we were doing was essential to us, because we were carving our path into tomorrow.

A lot of my records back then were anything but funky, but sometimes the magic happened, like if you somehow could wear 12 different colognes at once and come up with a new scent, rather then have the TSA suspect you for being a person of interest for stinking so bad that you would have to be someone up to no good.

We were all over the place. We were into everything and everything electronic music had to offer.

The lyric “Computer noise and pounding bass / hits you in the face / like a hammer” is visually arresting. Can you describe how you came up with those words, and what is it about those sounds that make techno so powerful, both physically, musically and psychologically?

Yes. Working in Arthur Baker’s Shakedown Studios in 1988 was the first time I worked in a huge NYC studio, and the monitors in the main room had like 9" portholes that literally punched you in the chest so hard that it was like a stun gun. Then it dawned on me why Baker’s productions in 1983 sounded like the bass wasn’t part of the production, all treble. Like the first royalty check from ‘Planet Rock’ was delivered in this beautiful studio with a few kilos of cocaine to keep up with your production schedule.

I cannot confirm nor deny if this is actually true, and I’m not suggesting Arthur would ever participate in such shenanigans, as much as I would say the same for myself and my comrades.

You talk a lot about “bass” in the lyrics. It’s foundational. How was bass important to the creation of techno culture then?

I mean in layman’s terms and pun intended. If the music was the actual pick-up, the bass line was the guarantee you were getting laid. The bass is what made the chips of paint come off the walls, set speakers on fire literally and pretty much the reason the police arrive to close down the party. Because if you are not part of the bass line, then it’s a frequency that disturbs people.

It’s not just the sound but the timing. You have a great meter to the lyrics. What is that based on? Was that a rap rhythm you were inspired by? You’ve talked to me before about how much hip hop influenced you as a kid and teen. Why did it have such an affect on you?

“I wanna rock right now, I’m Rob Base and I came to get down, I’m not internationally known, but I’m known to rock the microphone.” ‘It Takes Two’ by Rob Base & EZ Rock pretty much was my first influence.

There was a second influence that some people may be able to figure out, but if I had to come straight out and tell you, I would have to kill you.

Back to Rob Base, I was about to be internationally known, with no clue how to rock a micro-phone, so I figured I better try before finding out the hard way. In the end, ‘Call It Techno’ became the anthem for the German scene, which can be checked on Youtube by searching for “We Call It Techno”.

There’s another thing you do. “The techno wave has grown / with a style of our own / DIRECT from Brooklyn” — It’s the way you emphasize “grown” and “own,” but punch it home with “direct.” It’s the same rolling groove with swinging hits on other verses. It’s incredibly effective. Why and how did that vocal style work its way into your performance?

If people have read this far, I would invite you to Youtube to search for a song called ‘My Heart Holds The Key’ by Marie Venchura. Omar Santana and I were making lots of Freestyle Music and by 1988, we figured out every little trick in the book to make popular music.

I wrote lyrics from a shoebox of letters girls gave me in my teenage years. I’d take a sentence and make it rhyme and turn it into a song.

The Marie Venchura record is virtually unknown to my catalog but it is so over the top in it’s final version, you can instantly understand I was good at wordplay before techno ever even became part of the equation.

What did you write the original lyrics for ‘Call It Techno’ on? Where were you specifically when you did?

House music really started to become popular in 1987 and 1988. Whatever techno tracks that came out were considered house also, but I knew about techno because I was buying a lot of Detroit labels and I knew a second wave of music was coming behind house.

I would have never even wrote ‘Call It Techno’ had I not know I was going to London. But it was kind of obvious that a huge scene was happening in the U.K. and I didn’t want anyone there to think I was just a house music DJ from New York. I did write the song in advance of itself. Like I had an instinctual vision of what was yet to come.

The Techno Wave had grown to about a dozen people in New York City at that point. I figured if twelve more people got into it at least I wouldn’t be lying. We were already producing music daily at our studio in Manhattan. Go in at noon and sometimes work as late as midnight, every day like having to go to work. I wrote the lyrics at home in a couple of hours.

I already had been writing songs for other artists for a few years so something like this, and me being the artist, probably took four to six hours to write the lyrics and the whole next day composing the tracks. It was done in those two steps, lyrics then music the next day. All in one shot.

So then what was it like to perform them vocally, your own words?

It was fun because I made it for the kids in London who really didn’t care if I ever spoke a word to them so as long as I played the music they liked from me.

Right, because what’s important about the human voice versus computer noise and pounding bass?

Identity. A song is a song and a track is a track. But sometimes it depends on who is listening and what they like.

What is different about the power of words versus the power of sounds?

That would be best answered between House vs. Techno. Most house music that is popular comes from good lyrical content. Techno relies on technology and futuristic sounds. But sometimes it takes different parts of both to be interesting.

You’re known for a bravado sound and persona. Where does ‘Call It Techno’ fit into that larger narrative inside you?

We started off this story talking about the movies of 1978 and 1979, which influenced me as a young teenager. New Yorkers are proud people, especially when you venture out into the outer boroughs. Whatever I did for DJ culture is a part of a great moment in time in a crucial part of its history.

Chicago historians will have a problem with what started in Detroit. Because what started has a bigger part in our history. The truth of it all is that it always was part of New York. Dance music was based in New York City.

It came through the disco era. We have the biggest part of DJ culture via hip hop and the discotheque era of the ‘70s.

[366daysandnights]

thresholds

perched on columba’s bay/the bay at the back of ireland. photo by claire tomkinson.

in 2011 i had the honor of being invited by my dear friend to pilgrimage to Iona Abbey on the Isle of Iona in Scotland. i had never really had any desire or inclination to go to Scotland, and i had never heard of Iona, but this experience was important to claire as she journeyed through grief and crossed a threshold as a new wife. although i didn’t realize it at the time, i was also at a threshold. my first marriage was coming to an end and changes in my job were imminent. i felt liberated by the doors that were closing in my life and the space they created to open up something in their place. 

iona is described as “a thin place” - a place where the material and spiritual come close to one another. it would be impossible for me to photograph or describe how keenly you can feel this on the island. it is a place where every act - a quiet moment of reflection, a conversation with a friend, a meal shared in community (and, oh the food) - feels holy. 

the abbey.

claire and i spent a lot of time together on this trip. we both unintentionally fell asleep on our luggage in a park in downtown London, exhausted and obviously not super concerned about our belongings (because, jetlag). we journeyed up to king arthur’s seat at 11pm because the sun doesn’t set in the summer in Scotland, like ever. on our single night in Edinburgh we somehow got seated right next to the window in the cutest, most touristy restaurant of my Scottish dreams. after a day of train, bus and ferry we decided to go on a walk around iona isle and inexplicably got lost in a bog on a tiny land mass. this made our teenage roommates worry about US, which was kind of a funny indication of what was yet to come. that week was such a gift with my friend, with time spent talking, laughing, singing, crying, praying, and getting sunburned.

despite all these cherished experiences together, iona also permitted lots of time to spend on our own. claire is a gifted artist by trade, and i work in outdoor retail, so we both observed with some irony that most of her solitary time was spend roaming the island, and most of mine was spent in the art studio (and occasionally lured into the clear, frigid water by claire’s gusto). 

lo, one of maybe three times in adulthood that i voluntarily wore shorts. on the isle of staffa. i bought two books during our time on the island, because duh - the obvious souvenir for international travel with tiny luggage are BOOKS. the first is a book of blessings for life’s thresholds called to bless the space between us by john o’donohue. it offers sweetness and comfort for making the transition from a known, familiar world into new, unmapped territory. i keep this book on my nightstand and have revisited it countless times in the years since our trip. the second book is called praying with our hands by jon sweeney, and is a beautiful pictorial from the world’s spiritual traditions of ways that our bodies are places where prayer is actively happening - breaking bread, laying on of hands, the cosmic mudra, praying with icons, etc. this really spoke to me during a time that i struggled to find a church community and welcomed a reminder that with a simple shift in perspective in work, in charity, in breath, in acts of lovingkindness both my body and the occasion become sacred. 

it was with that on my heart that i found my way to the art studio on iona. i spent most of my free time there that week in part because i enjoyed the company of the adorable too-young-for-me-even-then man that ran the art studio, and mostly because i felt called to use this new sense of embodied prayer...to sew. i have no idea why. i had never done it before.  

i felt drawn back to this space on the brink of new motherhood. i wanted to create something for my children that i readily acknowledge has no artistic value and will probably sit in a closet somewhere, but maybe someday when i am a dusty old bitch my children will look at this and remember that once i sat and prayed for them with my hands and millions (and millions) of tiny stitches. this is what i was doing when i went into labor with my son.

i could write at length about my last month of pregnancy with isaiah - the heaviness i felt in my body. i have never been too concerned about my weight but have always been attached to feeling sturdy and strong, and in those final weeks even walking was a burden. i couldn’t understand how my stomach could get so big, and jesus - my feet looked like something out of a coney island freak show. from august onward i was convinced that i could go into labor, or explode, any second but it turns out my children both have an annoying punctuality that they definitely didn’t inherit from me. isaiah arrived right on his due date. 

the picture where my brother was convinced that someone just photoshopped a large circle over my abdomen in the same color as my tank top. placement of iced tea is unexplained phenomena

i was not aware that rose had down syndrome during my pregnancy. my midwife detected a fetal arrhythmia around 32 weeks but otherwise my pregnancy was blissfully uneventful. i planned a stereotypical crunchy unmedicated vaginal delivery. after i was induced and my labor plan fell apart before my eyes, i really struggled with feelings that my body had completely failed me and my child. in the months that followed in the hospital, i apologized to my husband and my daughter for my inability to grow a healthy child. i still do. 

in contrast, i planned nothing for my son and imagined that everything that could possibly go wrong would. nothing did. i was a good candidate for a VBAC but my midwives were cautious about setting any expectations. at risk of disappointment, i literally did nothing but pack my bag. despite the fact that i was convinced that my baby would fall out at any second, when i started having painful contractions on a monday night we were unprepared. it occurred to me that i may not make it until thursday when my mom was planning to arrive. chase urged me to contact my parents, and i reluctantly sent them a text, apologizing for the last minute request and asking if one of them would be able to come earlier. my dad responded, “it’s not last minute, we’ve been waiting for 9 months.” (touche, dad) and he arrived that night. 

this experience made me wonder if this is what women are talking about when they complain about being in labor for 24 hours, 36 hours, 48 hours, their entire third trimester, etc. maybe this is our version of a war story - mostly true, but embellished to really draw out our suffering and sacrifice to bring life into this world. 

i spent the days before isaiah’s arrival trying to cherish these moments with my girl

anyway, i wasn’t in labor for 48 hours. the contractions subsided with the sunrise, and i went back to my cross stitch sampler. my midwife gave me a single piece of advice that informed my labor plan - 

don’t count minutes between contractions. forget the 5 minute rule. ask yourself if you can get through five more contractions on your hands and knees. ten more contractions in the shower. and at the moment the answer to that question becomes “no, i can’t,” that’s when you come to the hospital.

we arrived at the hospital at 5:30pm and headed to OB Triage. i spent two hours feeling like my body was being ripped in half, drenched in sweat and unable to utter a single coherent word. the papers and consent forms the nurses kept bringing me went basically ignored (like, is this really the time to be filling out paperwork?! WTF?!). there was a woman next to me that came in with false labor and the nurses were going over guidelines on how to tell between false and active labor with her before sending her home. i was terrified that i would be next and that i would have to a) walk back across OB Triage in that hospital gown that definitely does not fully close over a pregnant belly and it seems like someone could probably do something about that, b) come to terms with the fact that my body couldn’t handle this. 

except i was already fully dilated. by the time the anesthesiologist arrived i truly could have kissed him if i hadn’t been sobbing into the shoulders of my labor and delivery nurse. she held me around the waist and offered some comforting, indecipherable sentiments to keep me from moving around and being paralyzed while the anesthesiologist put a huge needle into my spinal cord (thanks jessica!). she is a goddess. 

my midwife gave me about half an hour to “rest,” wherein i begged for some water and was awarded with a cup of ice chips (seriously, so many things need to be revised about L&D), then she coached me through about 45 minutes of very thirsty pushing. my son corkscrewed into the world at 9:17pm, and was immediately welcomed by chase’s musical selections of new edition and michael jackson while i continued to beg for water and everyone else stitched me up and cleared the murder scene. when people ask me how my delivery went i am actually at a loss to describe how ordinary it all was. 

except, this little life. 

isaiah winters peregoy arrives, at last and right on time. my little wild virgo.

i am not a romantic person by nature. i’ve been fortunate that in most relationships people mistake my quiet for thoughtfulness or mystery and are entrenched enough in their fondness for me by the time they realize that i am just pragmatic, and a bungling mess like everyone else. however, i am deeply romantic when it comes to my children. 

watching my daughter’s golden curls fly through the air makes me breathless. looking into my sons eyes, a mysterious grey-green for now, and knowing that i will be the first person to truly see him fills me with gratitude. these exhausted mornings with both of my children in my bed, their heads on my chest, give me pause as i remember holding them both beneath my heart and that no deed or person can ever erase that. they are perfect. 

i am completely relearning what it is to mother my son. for good or for ill, none of the lessons that we learned with rose apply this time around. she was two months old when she arrived in our home, blissfully sleep trained by our amazing NICU nurses and fed by g-tube for almost her first full year of life. isaiah sleeps in 10 minute increments and has an insatiable appetite that i am trying to keep up with. but they are both perfect, rose with all her gross, sticky, rambunctious toddler qualities and this new little creature with his constant need for motion and touch. this also feels like a thin place. 

[julietookoff]

Arlington, TX

Wow!  We love Arlington!  After 7 years of traveling around the country, we found somewhere we would seriously consider moving to.  Besides the people being super nice and "mostly" polite drivers, there is EVERYTHING here.  Every store and restaurant, several hospitals, plenty of geocaches, an AMC 18, Six Flags, a big airport, Interstates and mild winters.  We stayed two months.  Early on we took a wrong turn out of Aldi's and turned around in the driveway of the cutest little red brick house.  Ever since then Arlington has been pulling at my heartstrings to settle down.  The only thing that's missing is Shorty!

Along with giant Wal-Marts, Sam's, WinCo and several Aldi's, here are some of the places where we ate and shopped:  CiCi's, Peter Piper Pizza, Canes, Panda Express, In & Out, Boston Market, Furr's Buffet, Spaghetti Warehouse, Taco Bueno, Taco Cabana (awesome nachos), Krispy Kreme (walking distance from KOA!), a new fav Chinese Harbor Buffet and a new fav Pancho's Mexican Buffet.  There are many new-to-us restaurants we didn't have a chance to try.  Shopping:  Fry's ($7 click belts), Trader's World flea market, Half Price Books, Dave & Busters (we had a groupon).  And all the usual chain stores.  There is a mall just a couple miles south of the KOA.  It has an arcade/bowling alley bigger than Dave & Busters that is open late.  I just went in to look around after a day at the theater; we didn't stay to play.

So the downside.  Just after we got here, we went to an Urgent Care because Corny's back was killing him.  They did a simple x-ray and diagnosed him with sciatica.  They gave him a few pain pills until we could get an appointment with a primary care doctor.  They gave him better pills.  He bought a Hurry Cane.  We used the wheelchair at Trader's World.  By the end of the two months in Arlington, he was much improved.

I got a new doctor I like but his med tech screwed up big time when she entered my Rx's into the computer.  It took two trips to Walgreens and a smart Pharmacist to get them straightened out.  I'm supposed to be back for an appointment in October, but we'll see how that goes...

One of our A/Cs was acting up (capacitor), the microwave quit on us, and we had to replace the kitchen faucet.  The RV turns 8 this year and we've talked about getting a new smaller class C RV.

Geocaching.  The whole reason for coming here was for GeoWoodstock in Fort Worth.  I drove separately on the way up from San Antonio and did a big county-run.

^Texas State Capitol in Austin>

^Italy, TX>

I/we went to events all week.  We went to the one DDD in Fort Worth - Fred's Texas Café.  It was very good, and very pricey.  There are a dozen DDD's in Dallas but we didn't make it to any.  There was a nice CITO (cache in/trash out) event by the river.  There was an 8pm-12am trading event where I traded pathtags and gave away a bunch of camo'ed pill bottles.  I saw the famous Stockyards and the traveling Geocaching Adventure Maze - a geocaching museum of sorts. 

^Lost at the Stockyards...Geocaching Adventure Maze>

The actual GeoWoodstock was a bit less than I had expected.  It was all indoors in a big hall with a few tablers.  It paled in comparison to the GW at Coney Island in Cincinnati last year.  A big part of it was no more lab caches for me (until I break down and get a Smartphone).  Groundspeak made lab caches unavailable by computer this year.  I don't know if I'm repeating myself, but I tried using a Smartphone years ago for about 3 months and never swore so much in my life.  I just couldn't take it, trying to do computer stuff on a little 3" screen with little 3mm buttons for a keyboard.  I remember sitting at a Pizza Hut (in Oregon?) after eating and spending about a half hour trying to log in to their wi-fi and kvetching.  I just don't have the patience.

My vintage flip phone

Anyhow, I can't believe so much negativity crept into a blog about a place we loved!  Back to geocaching...

Shortly after we got to the KOA I rode my bike up the street a few miles to the oldest cache in Texas "Tombstone".  Texas geocachers sure do love their cemetery caches.  A new geo-art series was put out and many of the caches required a ladder.  Corny got me a spiffy, beautiful 12' aluminum telescoping ladder. 

We soon found out whoever placed the series must've had a 30' ladder, because even with an extending 10' pole, we couldn't reach some of them!  The ladder fits nicely in the back of the Jeep.  I took it on a 3 day county run skirting along the TX/OK border, into Arkansas and Louisianna.  I found great caching in Denton and Gainesville.  

I got home and wanted to go right back out on another trip - and started planning it... but it was Corny's turn.  He had an appointment with his Florida urologist for some imaging test.  He took a week and a half van trip and saw Shorty and some friends from Fay's RV Park.  The day after he left I signed up for a Six Flags membership, Dining Plan and drink refill bottle.  I went almost every day for lunch - turkey legs, tacos, tamales, Panda Express "Chop Six" and giant pretzels until Corny got back. 

The current plan is to stay in northern New Mexico for the summer (at an elevation around 7000') then southern AZ for the winter.  Corny will take another van trip to Vancouver to see some filming in July/August.  He got his passport renewed.  The van is in storage at Arlington.  All six of us (Corny, me, Dolly, Poco, Ruffles and Piggie) will take the Jeep back from NM to get it; then I will solo back to NM in the Jeep geocaching and visiting the Six Flags in Arlington and in Oklahoma City.  Yay!

For those of you keeping score, here are the movies I've seen on three visits to the AMC 18.  During one visit, it felt like my seat was shaking.  I changed seats, but still felt the shaking.  The theater is on the third floor of the mall.  I found out there were two tornadoes nearby!  Corny had packed everybody into the van and drove to the mall parking garage for a couple hours, listening to the radio and studying the atlas, learning all the cities and counties in Tornado Alley.

Penguins, Intruder, Poms, Curse of La Llorona, Breakthrough, Ugly Dolls, Avengers, Little, The Hustle, Pokemon Detective, Aladdin, A Dog's Journey, Booksmart, John Wick, Brightburn, Toy Story 4, Secret Life of Pets 2, Annabelle, Child's Play, MIB International, Other Side of Heaven, Midsommar.

Life is Godd! We fit out.

[apexart-journal]

Day 23

That was one of the most unusual activities I experienced so far. 21-22 June - longest day in the year and, accordingly, the shortest night. On my schedule, I had to wake up at about 3 am and take a subway to the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine,  the world's largest Anglican cathedral and church, to attend at "Annual Summer Solstice Celebration".  It was a concert by Paul Winter Consort, an American musical group, conducted in a very special environment.

Firstly, a journey through the night, sleeping New York.

Secondly, absolute darkness in the enormous cathedral. Half the audience is sitting on yoga mats. The other half is on the benches.

Music: organ, saxophone, piano, drums, electronics. Somewhere in between of classical music, jazz, world fusion, and ambient, evoking meditation music. Very mysterious.

Then the dawn came so I could see better where I was. Stage lighting switched on, and the music becomes more active.

And finally, when the sun fully rose, the concert ended and I went back to sleep a little bit before next round.

I slept for three hours, and it was time to go the hell out somewhere, to Coney Island, to see the next parade - "Mermaid Parade." An hour in the subway and there it is - an outstanding pandemonium.

There were so many people everywhere that it was almost impossible to see what's going on. The sun blazed my head, around was madness and jam.

Around there were ridiculous mermaids of all kinds.

At the same time, it is impossible not to admire the creativity and some courage of the parade participants.

At some point, I tired of this craziness and went to check out the sacred place for all American Russians - Brighton Beach.

After looking at all the beauty of Coney Island, roasted in the sun, I went to the Brooklyn Heights, to deepen the matter of mermaids by attending the event called "Sunset Seine: For World Fish Migration Day."

Furthermore, I met Nathan Catlin - a former apexart fellow, artist, and printmaker. We pretty quickly left that fish migration club and spent time discussing this and that, especially there was an exciting story about Nathan's fellowship in Jerusalem two years ago. It was great to know more about that "outbound from New York" experience.

[justholdinghandsok]

David Duchovny exclusive interview by Craig Ferguson in Bucky F*cking Dent paperback. 

to add to @youokay-mulder​‘s post 

(It’s not all of it, the end of the interview isn’t available if you don’t buy the book)

Craig Ferguson : What’s it like to write a novel about men writing novels?

David Duchovny : You mean as opposed to a novel about cows writing novels? Much of the philosophy or thinking ideas standing behind or underneath this book have to do with storytelling. As is, Who is telling the story – are the telling it in a way that makes them a hero, a goat, happy, sad? The idea being that all history in a story, so the character are on a journey to discover the best, healthiest, happiest, most truthful way of telling their intermingled stories. And just coincidentally, I read a paper yesterday written by my daughter for high school that addresses this question of who controls history in Hamilton – so be on the lookout for a rap musical of Bucky F*cking Dent. It’s coming and you can’t escape it. So anyway, with all this background noise of storytelling in the book, it made sense that the two main male characters, Ted and Marty would be storytellers, novelists of sorts – frustrated, maybe, blocked, maybe; but novelists. It made sense. But the book is also about how all of us who live conscious lives, or even semi-self-conscious lives, Mariana included, have not only a right to tell the story, but something approaching a duty, a responsibility – a sacred duty, even – to make personal sense of  the lives we lead.

CF: How closely does Ted’s room in Brooklyn resemble your Childhood bedroom?

DD: Ted’s room looks nothing like mine did. I grew up in Manhattan, not Brooklyn (less space), with a brother and sister (less space still)—so I always shared a room. Didn’t go in for posters. Though for a while, we used to rip the advertising off buses back when they were cardboard—the advertising, not the buses. I remember I had a Peter Max ad on my wall that I’d pulled off a bus on Fourteenth Street. Psychedelic. The ‘70s city equivalent of big game hunting. I might’ve had a Minnesota Vikings poster too. I liked purple.

CF: You’ve said that the book’s inspiration came from overhearing a workman say “Buckyfuckingdent”, which was a new word for you because you weren’t from Boston. How much have the Yankees meant to you throughout your life? Did the original Yankee Stadium have supernatural powers?

DD: I was a big Yankee fan as a kid, but this will be hard to grasp for many: the Yankees sucked when I was a kid. I came of age right at the end of Mickey Mantle, before the great, crazy teams of the late ‘70s (one of which is in the novel), and long before the corporate behemoth Streinbrenner Yankee teams of the Jeter years. My heroes were very good players, but just shirt of the Hall of Fame – Mel Stottlemyre, Bobby Murcer. The Yankee team of my childhood never won anyting – so when I write about the way Red Sox fans felt before 2004, that’s how I felt. I grew up rooting for the losers. Even the lowly Mets won in ’69. Not my Yankees. And Mel Stottlemyre s a fantastic baseball name.

CF: Like Ted, you studied literature at an Ivy League university. Are English majors kinder, smarter, and generally better than other people? Are poets (especially Hart Crane and John Berryman) superior to fiction writers? Is Jerry Garcia superior to everyone?

DD: Yes. Yes. Yessssssss.

CF : Do you miss the 1970s version of New York City ? Why or why not?

DD: I think I miss it. It’s so long ago. It was celebrated in Patti Smith’s Just Kids, but I was really just a kid back then, so the city that I knew – broken-down, dirty, broke – was all I knew. I accepted it, didn’t want it to be better or worse, it was simply my home. And we lived on the Lower East Side, which was not a place where people were eager to live, like they are today. I would be careful of romanticizing the danger of it, but there was a sense of less structure than there is today, less hierarchy, surely less franchises. So yeah, it felt more free and it really did feel like it was wide-open and livable. Today’s New York feels more a like a New York theme park where people come to have New York-type experiences. New York is loved now in a way that perverts it, makes it an idea of New York. Back then it was just a weird, wild, slightly neglected place to be living, and that was that.

CF: When you’re a gray panther, what delusions will you want your kids to stage for you?

DD: I could always use a little rain.

CF: Illness (in children as well as parents) is a recurring thread in the novel. Do you believe the “bowling average of souls” described in chapter 18? What do you think it takes to be a survivor?

DD: I’m not sure. Everybody living has survived something. Some have a much tougher go than others. I think survival is a habit. If you’re lucky and strong, and if the tests aren’t too hard at too young age, you get good at it. It’s kind of the way sports functions for kids. Teaches them how to survive in a world where the stakes seem high but are actually zero. Or even when as adults we continue to take part in the illusion that the game means something. But it’s just a game.

CF: Marty’s career was made possible by Edward Bernays, who he says destroyed free will. Do you agree with Marty about the evils of advertising and publicity?

DD: I do agree with Marty. I think it was George Carlin who said, late in his life, that we think we have choices but we don’t, we have options. I may be misquoting Carling, but this is how I remember it.

CF: Ted and Marty have similar taste in women. Were you trying to deliver a symbolic message about the nature of love, or was this just a coincidence?

DD: That’s a coincidence. So I imagine it means more than if I’d planned it.

CF: What would your dad think of Marty Fullilove?

DD: My dad would be pretty pleased that I managed a novel. I’ve said many times, when I’ve talked about the book after its release, that Marty was nothing like my dad save for being the ace of a Puerto Rican softball team. My dad was gentle and quiet and loving. Like Marty, he was also a writer, a frustrated writer, who published his first novel at the sage of seventy-two. Which is remarkable. It’s called Coney and I recommend it.

[babsaros]

dungeons and discord pt 4

we ate some porridge and here we go this is a rlly long one srry i feel like i went into a lot more detail than usual

gnome woke us up, i slept in and only came downstairs right as everybody was deciding where to go bc i was busy fucking around trying to keep track of my gold bc my character was super broke

the gnome and the sword-boy went to track down the mayor wh is apparently an alcoholic lmao and ask him about a job. they managed to up the reward money dope

me and the fighter went to go hitch the mule but like, the other two realized they didn’t know where tf the mule is hitched. we were already headin to the gate as they were trying to meet up with us and it was so ridiculous, dm made them roll investigation checks and then run to catch up with us and roll athletics checks and the gnome rolled a 0 i had to pick him up

we were walkin the forest on the way to this lumber yard to check it out bc it had suddenly gone quiet and there were reports of strange humanoid figures

heard some wolves, shot at them with crossbows. the one ucking body slams the gnome and takes a chunk out of him. the other one tries to do the same thing to me but i fucking slam it to the floor with my shield, making it prone. then i cast command on the first wolf and told it to flee. bc i’m a fucking badass

gnome gets up and stabs the wolf. fighter gets out his dope new whip and snaps at the wolf with it but misses. we’re goin overkill on these wolves a lil i mean one’s about to run away and one’s laying on the ground at my feet. we’re amazing i love us

sword-boy stabs the wolf2 at my feet. wolf1 runs away. wolf2 gets up, looks at his odds, and fucks off as far as he can

i leave the wolves alone and heal myself, the gnome runs into the trees to find this weasel on the ground (the gnome is a ranger and this is his pet weasels origin story btw). the fighter shoots a crossbow at wolf1. sword-boy dashes at wolf2 and just goes to town killing it. fighter slinks off into the woods after wolf1 trying to get away and just….does some dark shit out there in the trees.

gnome picks up the weasel and uses cure wounds on it and rolls a 19 animal handling. they’re best buds now.

i’m sittin in the middle of the clearing making daisy chains, sword-boy and fighter are like skinning the wolfs and just generally harvesting them.

we get to the lumber yard and hear some rustling as we head in. a spear is thrown out of soem bushes and a humanoid frog comes out with his hands up. a froggy. gnome uses speak with animals to translate what he’s sayin. it’s essentially “don’tshootdon’tshootdon’tshoot”. we have a lil convo. the frog gys were tryna make a settlement but the lumberjacks were getting close to their new home so some of them decided to uh kidnap the lumberjacks. gnome translates this to us and the fighter immediately fires his crossbow into the froggy. roll initiative fuck

another froggy dives out and chucks a knife at the fighter, froggy1 is trying to run away but the gnome goes in to like tackle-hug him and lmao he has to roll a con check and fails and is now charmed by froggy skin poison. he starts croaking.

the fighter takes two shots at the wounded frog, being thoroughly confused by the situation bc now theres a third unarmed frog. he misses tho so maybe we can still save these negotiations???

sword-boy and me do some damage control and get between the frog and the fighter. a fourth froggy appears but nobody’s attacking so??

the fighter’s player just genuinely doesn’t know what to do and keeps flipping coins to decide if he attacks or not. spoiler alert, the coin is against us and keeps making us attack.

i’m trying to decide how to fix this situation when i hear a voice from my talisman. the goddess of peace is like…”hey…you know… if these guys are hurting people, should they really be around?” i shrug and say well ur the goddess of peace here and attempt to attack a frog. i miss but take 4 damage and realize that hey, maybe dm is fucking with me and that wasn’t the goddess of peace. gee wtf??

1 frog has been killed at this point, 1 has run off, and two are left on the field. the gnome tackle-hugs the yellow frog again and attempts to persuade him. the fighter dashes forward on his mule and uses his net on the yellow froggy.

in the words of the dm, everyone is confused. i drop my sword and back tf off of this frog, like dude shit my bad i have a little voice in my head and i just suddenly realized maybe i shouldn’t listen to it. the frog is thoroughly confused and runs tf away.

fighter puts the netted froggy in some handcuffs. we try to resume our convo. the lumberjacks have apparently been taken hostage by “them”??

we’re taking a five minute break and i just fuckin realized i got the talisman from a guy who eventually worshiped eldritch gods so,,, maybe not the best purchase……,,, thanks dm i just wanted to talk to my mom sometimes

we just talked about donuts and junk for a couple minutes but now it’s time to hit the road again we’ve been playing for like 4 hours

so we get to the building where the lumberjacks r bein held and start talking about how to bust the place up

fighter wants to just fucking set the building in fire and we all have to shut that down bc he’s only concerned with getting paid for clearing the camp and we’re worried about the hostages. and the frogs are watching us through the windows so we need a distraction. time to play my fucking bagpipes again. gnome and his weasel are gonna sneak in. fighter and sword-boy are helping me by shouting and dancing

I PLAY THESE BAGPIPES SO GOOD AND IM ALSO INVISIBLE

the gnome’s weasel is so good at sneaking he vanishes off the face of the earth and the gnome is not so good. he gets to the backdoor and opens it, coming face to face with a froggy. his weasel sneaks past tho. he tries to grapple this froggy, forgets that the frogs are all covered in mucus that charms u, but it’s all good bc he beats the frog in the strength convo. he continues sneakin in.

i’m essentially playing a fantasy version of call me maybe. the fighter and the sword-boy are shouting abuse at the building. we end the session there tho bc gnome-player had to leave. gnite

fighter is thinking about rolling a dif character so we’ll see whats gonna happen.