#is when local dutch kids would be talking shit about me and my friends speaking english together

[psqqa]

the person behind me is having a whispered conversation with someone and their desk and my brain keeps trying to go down the path “oh no it’s because they’re talking about how much they hate me!” and i keep having to drag it back to the extremely obvious and fully rational “oh they’re trying not to disrupt anyone’s work, super appreciate them for that”.

like human brains are for real the dumbest, most terrified little animals in existence. calm the fuck down my dude our colleagues aren’t going to kick us out of the cave to fend for ourselves against the cold and sabre-tooth tigers.

[verdemoun]

Hiii I wanted to ask what you think happens to Micah in the timewarp au cause modern Micah is such an enigma and it's so funny to me. Do you think he's coping well with modern times? Or does he just respawn and immediately tries robbing a mc Donald's or smth. Could def see him doing Florida man throwing an alligator through a Wendy's window type shit or just being the Wendy's employee getting the alligator thrown at him.

Also speaking of Florida man do you have an idea of what state they live in currently in modern au? (I love hearing peoples takes on where in America they think rdr takes place, especially when they're talking about where they'd be in a modern au)

i am so conflicted because like. gang with memories and knowledge of what happens in the future.

arthur wants to kill micah. yes he's been thriving and has a happy life with hosea and bessie and the boys and being a part of isaac's modern life but imagine the guilt he would feel knowing he was dying anyway but if he'd killed micah in 1899 it would've literally saved lives and it might have meant the bureau never went after john in 1911. the absolute arthur 'blames himself for everything that ever happened' morgan would consider himself personally responsible for every life micah took/destroyed post 1899. and arthur has 8 years to plan. 8 years.

but i did let dutch live so why not micah. gotta give rat bastard man a of love

micah respawned in a denny's parking lot to the sight of arthur morgan with a baseball bat. no context. no understanding what's happening. it's late evening. there's street lights and neon signs and who fucking cares they immediately pick up where they left off in 1899 which is beating the living shit out of one another.

cut to them both bloody and bruised in holding cells at the local jail still hurling insults at each other while hosea is just standing there wondering what the actual hell he is meant to do.

said incident immediately landed micah on a list of people not allowed to be sold guns and it is like neutering a feral dog. the first time micah cries in his life is at a walmart being told he isn't able to buy a gun. even if the gang want nothing to do with him like they are getting a phone call sorry to interrupt your evening sir but there's an adult man throwing a tantrum on the floor

the gang are forced to admit it isn't morally correct to a) let micah loose unsupervised in modern era or b) leave him to fend for himself and die. micah ends up living in a trailer park. he embraces redneck culture. he eats so much fast food the servers will call for a welfare check if they haven't seen him in more than three days. he gets a job at a paintball center because damnit if he can't have a gun he will have gun-adjacent. he is the conservative dad-bod southern hick hero of teenage boys everywhere

what's really funny is isaac morgan's best friend (other than jack, obviously) is malachi bell who is a direct descendant of amos bell. because he has known isaac since elementary school: and young isaac did not understand his experiences of being murdered and reawakening in modern era were not universal: kai is fully aware of how the timewarp works ie sometimes he goes with isaac to visit grandpop hosea and there will be a very confused freshly warped outlaw sitting on the couch. the fucking phone call of 'hey remember how my family was super weird around you at the start because you look scarily like your grand uncle who kind of killed my dad and was murdered by my uncle GUESS WHO JUST TURNED UP'

micah is the best terrible uncle a kid could ask for and is honestly super attached to kai even though kai is his polar opposite in every way out of spite. kai goes to micah's trailer for dinner. says he's vegetarian. goes again and micah went through the effort of getting tofu. says he's allergic to soy. inherited all the bell snark and none of the tendency towards evil

micah and arthur in a fistfight at a barbeque while kai and isaac are both just standing there 'i'm sorry about my family'

an underappreciated micah fact is how much he cared about baylock. he would get the exact same level of giddy as the rest of the gang being around horses in modern era. while living in a trailer is not ideal for having a horse he does have a massive black 'looks like he could kill you but is actually a giant cuddle bear' bully-breed dog because as much as he was afraid of dogs (fight me) he is actually more afraid of being alone. his dog eats at the table with him. micah eats mcdonalds while his dog gets lovingly pan-seared steak.

his dog is a kill-shelter rescue named baymax and micah has no idea about disney movies and doesn't understand why people giggle at the name.

to the second point i am not american and have no idea wheeze but i think texas?? texas is where most people seem to think new austin is based on?? in rdr terms they're probably on the northern side of modern day blackwater like there's the bay to the east, mountains to the north and desert to the west. pls if there are any americans what fast food place would micah bell III dedicate his life to and what state should they be in

[meichenxi]

5 & 12 for the ask game! <3

Hiii! :D

5) How old were you when you first started learning a foreign language?

I went to The Netherlands - my first foreign country!! how exciting!! - aged 6 and boldly declared after one week that when I was older, I was only going to speak Dutch. It absolutely blew my child’s brain that these kids were speaking...words...and I couldn’t understand them. I dragged my dad to the local cafe and we poured over books together when we got back to the UK, but he predictably soon stopped and I was too young to really continue on my own. I did however ‘speak’ Dutch (read: terribly) in school for the next six months to literally all of my friends until my mother genuinely had to sit me down and tell me the reason no one would talk to me was because I was NOT COMMUNICATING in a language that anyone else knew. I also used to conlang as a kid, and way before I spoke another language properly had a ‘conlang’ called Kalichiyaan that was fairly developed (though still essentially a cipher of English, as I had never learnt a foreign language properly) - I used to write my diary in it. Otherwise, the first ‘proper’ language I learnt was German when I was 12 at school. 

12) Have you always enjoyed language learning? What made you enjoy it?

Genuinely yes!! Since as far as I can remember it’s been my refuge and my joy. I loved seeing how things clicked together - communication was sort of secondary, and while it was nice to speak to people who spoke the language, I just liked learning grammar and having things make sense. I liked having a ‘private’ language. And for years German was my emotional refuge - that sounds ridiculous but everything that happened in those years, I turned to German, novels and books and writing, and there was a lot of comfort there. My diary was in German for years. It was sort of a terrible day when I realised that hundreds of millions of people actually spoke it!!

I have also been conlanging since I was young, which is just the most fun hobby a linguist can possibly have. A lot of the things I know now come from research from conlanging so it’s given me a lot

I went through a period of a couple of years up until about last year where I wasn’t learning languages as much because of mental health stuff, but I always wanted to, and the fact that I had lost the passion for that was massively frustrating and stressful. As shit as the pandemic has been, I’m so glad I got to start learning Chinese again and became part of the wonderful studyblr community :D It’s been great to be back and I’m so excited for what the future might bring!

[barbariccia]

i’ve always thought omega had a really cool design. it’s a gritty place, in keeping with its name - omega ( Ω or ω ), as the last letter of the greek alphabet, tends to symbolize the end of something (typically in a line or list of things that have come previously), especially in christian camps, contrasting alpha ( Α or α ) which refers to the beginning. the alpha and the omega are a title of christ and apt enough, meaning that christ is the beginning and the end of all things.

suitable, then, that omega is in terminus space - the end of civilization - and frequently left abandoned, in the corse of an asteroid.

as you land, you’re approached by a salarian, and then a batarian, who tells the salarian to make himself scarce after a brief meeting. the batarian turns to us.

Moklan: Blasted scavengers. Welcome to Omega... Shepard.

turns out we’re not exactly on the down-low, and they’ve had their eyes on us since the second we stepped into omega space, with the so-called leader aria wanting to know why a dead spectre is in her area. we’re told in no uncertain terms to go make ourselves known to her, and, well, we don’t exactly know where we’re meant to be going to find our scientist yet, so we might as well.

aria t’loak resides in the afterlife club, because just because you’re at the end of all things doesn’t mean there’s nowhere else to go. it’s big and gaudy and in high demand; a vid of three asari strippers dancing plays directly above the entrance, and a line of people is waiting impatiently to get by the elcor bouncer, who’s got no time for these people who aren’t on the list. and boy, it’s gaudy on the inside, too, with the hallway leading to the club proper playing images of flickering fire. oh, and the lighting in here is atrocious, truly suitable for a nightclub.

there’s a little pack of batarians who think you’re looking at them wrong, and you get to tell them to pound dirt before you enter afterlife... which is a wholeass spectacle.

it’s dark and dingy and there’s asari dancing above the bar, where you can order as many drinks as you like from, courtesy of a well-dressed turian barkeep. after a little dutch courage, you can go up to the next level, to the private lounge where aria keeps her eye on the rest of the club, and as you ascend the stairs, she speaks.

it’s a whole mexican standoff of sorts, guns pointed in every direction, and me just wanting a nice chat with a new friend. :( her batarian bodyguard scans us with his omnitool - and even if you object, you’ve no choice but to suffer through this.

Shepard: I was told you’re the person to talk to if I have questions.

Aria: Depends on the questions.

Shepard: You run Omega?

aria might just be my favourite asari in the franchise; she still suffers from “skin on display even while dressed” disease, but she feels fully autonomous and doesn’t put up with bullshit. sure, the idea of a Tough Woman is a whole trope in and of itself, but in a series where belonging to this particular race throws you firmly into one of three feminine ideals while considering them a magical space-elf race that everyone’s attracted to by rote, it’s real nice to see an example that doesn’t do the same thing as everyone else. hell, even benezia is blown out of the water by aria, who doesn’t come across as evil so much as self-serving, and tough to keep her iron rule going.

Shepard: One scan and we’re straight to business? People are usually more concerned about who I am.

Aria: Your death was downplayed, but hardly what I call a secret. I had to make sure it was really you. You could have been anyone. Anything.

Shepard: Tell me how you got set up here.

Aria: That’s as privileged as information gets. I have many friends and enemies I keep at varying distances. I don’t count you among either. We’ll see how useful you prove. Short answer: mind your own damn business.

Shepard: You must know what’s on Omega.

Aria: Everything that’s worth knowing. I don’t usually give it out freely. Information is power. Mundane things, you can find yourself. Take a walk in a back alley, or buy one of the mercs a drink. Better yet, talk to the entertainers. They give great tours.

there are two dossiers to fulfill on omega, and you can ask aria about both of them.

Archangel is a mercenary commander whose operations are noted for their technical expertise and strategic brilliance. He is responsible for high-profile attacks on gang leaders on Omega and can likely be found there.

Dr. Mordin Solus is a salarian biological weapons expert whose technology may hold the key to countering Collector attacks. He is currently operating a medical clinic in the slums of Omega.

Shepard: I’m trying to track down Archangel.

Aria: You and half of Omega. You want him dead, too?

Shepard: Why’s everyone after him?

Aria: He thinks he’s fighting on the side of good. There is no good side to Omega. Everythign he does pisses someone off. It’s catching up to him.

Shepard: Just the kind of guy I’m looking for.

Aria: Really? Well, aren’t you interesting. You’re going to make some enemies teaming up with Archangel. That’s assuming you can get to him. He’s in a bit of trouble right now. The local merc groups have joined forces to take him down. They have him cornered, but it sounds like they’re having trouble finishing him off, and started hiring anybody with a gun to help them.

Shepard: What can you tell me about him?

Aria: Not as much as I’d like. He showed up here several months ago and started causing all sorts of problems. If you make your own laws -- which everyone her does -- he makes life difficult. He’s reckless and idealistic. But he seems to know enough to stay clear of me.

she tells us that every major merc group is after archangel right now, which is incredible in itself, because they’re never seen together unless they’re warring. archangel has done the impossible.

Shepard: Know where I can find Mordin Solus?

Aria: The salarian doctor? Last I heard he was trying to help plague victimes in the quarantine zone. I always liked Mordin. He’s as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you.

Shepard: What can you tell me about him?

Aria: Used to be part of the Salarian Special Tasks Group. He’s brilliant and dangerous. Just don’t get him talking. He never shuts up. If you really need to find him, take a shuttle to the quarantine zone. No guarantee they’ll let you in, of course.

that’s all aria has to say; we take a trip downstairs to sign up with the blue suns to hunt down and flush out archangel. but not before some sexism!!

you DO NOT GET THIS LINE or any equivalent if you’re playing as a male shepard. all the recruiter says is “you three look like you could do some damage. looking for a good fight?” and BOY FUCKING HOWDY why would you include this. why would you include this line at all. why would anyone think this was a good idea. why would you not include an equivalent for mshep if you were going to do this. i hate this line and i lose my fucking temper every time i think about it because wow, guess fucking what, we never see any batarian females! we never see any salarian females! we never see any god damn turian female characters! we don’t know SHIT about the women of this universe and oh, it’s so gratifying to know that even in the future, even across the galaxy, even non-humans don’t value women as equal to men. where’s your culture differences? where’s your fucking worldbuilding? you cannot mean to tell me the entire galaxy works on the same sexist paradigm of “man good women weak hurrhurr” because that’s so fucking lazy and weak and i despise it.

you get a choice (renegade, obvs), to pull a pistol on the guy, and then the lines carry on as usual. you buy into the blue suns, making a note to kill every one of the bastards when you’re done picking up archangel, and leave the club to find a transport just outside, where we’ll be carried away to the fight against archangel. as you leave, there’s a human kid that walks in and wants to join the fight as well - you can ask him just how old he is, and do a paragon interrupt to stop him from joining a fight that’s already taken out countless teams trying to get to this merc, but i was angry enough that i let it slide. teach the kid a lesson about trying to be fucking macho and the consequences.

grumbles loudly.

[larryfanfiction]

Star_Henderson @tommosgun

💚 We are timeless (WIP!) (64k)

“These are the ones I was telling you about.” Niall leant into Harry’s ear. “Write all their own stuff. Lead singer is a natural.”

Harry nodded, tilting his head to listen to the sweet rasp of the singer’s voice. The song started off soft and lilting, giving Harry shivers, the back of his neck prickling as the song picked up tempo. He loved it, bopping his head and tapping his foot. Niall nudged him, smiling and Harry gave him the thumbs up. Harry watched them, he couldn't quite see the singer because of a spotlight in his way, but as he moved a step, the light hit his face and Harry blinked. He gripped the chair arms and leaned forward. Was it him? Was it? His hair was longer, his face no longer soft and boyish, instead angular with heavyish scruff, but the eyes, that mouth, were still the same. A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, heat creeping up his spine. It had been over four and a half years since he’d last seen him. He slumped back into his chair. He’d never given up hope of finding Tommy. Never. Or

Louis and Harry meet as teenagers and have a sweet encounter in Ibiza. Years later they meet up again...

💚 Can I just be the same?  (17k)

“Are you skint?” Louis studied his face. “I can give you the bloody bus fare home, Harry. You don't have to walk.” His voice was soft. Caring.

Harry stopped, his body tingling. Fuck. He shouldn’t have crossed the road. Keep walking. Always keep walking.

“I’m not skint, but thanks for the offer. There’s not many kind people like you around. You’re lovely, you know that?” Harry reached his hand out tentatively, cupping Louis’ elbow and squeezing. “Thank you.” His voice hitched a little.

He’d roamed the country for centuries, coming in and out of people’s lives, never able to forge bonds. Or, if he did, breaking them and suffering the pain of lost love. That was his life forever. Stuck in this limbo with not one other person in the whole world who cared about him. So the kindness of a stranger really hit home, and this stranger with the bluest eyes and brightest smile was making Harry feel alive again. Reminding him of what he was missing

OR Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

💚 King of wishful thinking (38k)

“Don't umm don't get on the bus, come inside.” Louis blurted the words out, speaking quickly.

Harry looked startled.

“Just. Look I don't know if I want..” Louis scrubbed his face with his hand. “I'll pay for your time. Just come in.”

Harry stepped away from the bus stop and the bus sailed straight past.

“What's umm what do you guys make these days?”

Harry shuffled his feet. “Depends. Like two hundred an hour.”

Louis hummed. “Reasonable.” He gestured towards the hotel. “Come up for a drink or some room service or something.”

Harry scraped the toe of his already scuffed boots on the floor. “You don't have to do this, I feel like… like you're a nice person who feels bad but it's fine. I get it. You don't have to make it up to me.”

Louis stared at Harry. It'd been so long since he'd even spoken to a guy let alone hung out with one. He'd enjoyed the banter and the flirting.

“Come up.” Louis’ voice was soft.

Harry’s face bloomed into a smile. “Ok.”

💚 Day 25: Are you mine?  (4k)

And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways So in case I'm mistaken I just wanna hear you say you got me baby Are you mine? Louis hands over the reins to Harry to organise a night away from the kids. Harry wants to watch Louis in action. Watch him dance, flirt, attract other men. But it's Harry who gets to take him home at the end of the night.

💚 Rise up like the sun (41k)

“I wasn't taking a sneaky pic.” Louis blurted out, the guy stood at one of the urinals taking a piss. “You were.” The guy answered coolly. “I would've taken a pic with you if you'd just asked.” “No I didn't want a pic with you.” The guy turned his head, quirking his eyebrow sardonically. “No you're far too cool for that, you just wanted to violate my privacy.” Louis squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry. Look..” He walked towards the guy flicking his phone out. “Hey.” The guy hunched over, hiding his junk. “Oh no no, I wasn't gonna take a pic. Fuck.” Louis threw his hands up, stopping in his tracks. “Look I'm going to show you I'm deleting it.” Louis turned his phone and the pic disappeared. “You looked familiar, I was going to send it to my friend and ask who you were, I'm sorry, dick move.” Louis sighed, smiling apologetically. The guy zipped and walked to the basin. “So you invade my privacy then insult my level of fame by pretending to not know who I am.” The guy was turned away from Louis. “Look I'm...shit.” Louis inhaled noisily. The guy turned, a grin spread over his face. “I'm fucking with you.”

💚 Sail away with me  (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Or

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

💚 Looking down from the clouds (18k)

“He's funny and cute and hot and he's not like the other young VIP’s that we get, he's like…” Louis wafted his hand. “Kind and he seems genuine and he has these legs that go right up to his bum.” Anna sat watching Louis with her usual bemused smile. They had this conversation at least once a week. “So what are you going to do about it?” Anna asked for the hundredth time. Louis groaned loudly. “Nothing, as per usual. Just come and have a meltdown to you.” Anna pushed her chair back, filling both their cups from the coffee pot, handing Louis his and leaning in his desk. “What's the worst that can happen? He can only say no if you ask him out.” “Go-ddd you make it sound so simple. Excuse me, Mr wonderful, I'm crazy about you and can't stop talking about you, you're perfect to me so how about slumming it down to South Beach for a big dirty delicious empanada? No? You like napkins and real food with beautiful interesting people? Oh ok, yes of course you do.” Louis banged his head against the wall. Anna despaired of him. “Try,” she pushed. Or Louis is security officer at Miami airport and regularly has to escort Harry through. Will they ever go on that date?

💚 Soul wiped clean  (91k)

The door to Harry's left opened and in walked a man, slight frame but managing to fill the room with his presence. Harry stood up and turned towards him.

“Boss.” The man nodded at Paul, his eyes whipping over to Harry. Harry’s lungs somehow lost every ounce of breath, like a suckerpunch to the gut, winded. The hairs on Harry's neck pricked with what he thought was fear. He held the back of the chair to steady himself, trying not to stagger, eventually remembering to breathe. Paul cleared his throat. “Tommo, this is Harry, the journo who is joining us. Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson.”

Can Louis, an ex convict with secrets and lies, keep hold of them when he has to share three weeks with a journalist. And does he want to?

💚 The light to guide me home  (65k)

He was mesmerised by the guy on the bar. Laughing and singing along to the song, grinding and thrusting in time to the music, shaking his cocktail shaker.

“Relax, don’t do it when you wanna come . Relax, don’t do it, when you wanna suck do it, relax don’t do it, when you wanna come..”

Harry’s throat felt constricted, rooted to the spot.

“When you wanna come…”

He came to his senses and edged through the crowd, not taking his eyes from the guy, gyrating and tossing his shaker. He flipped it down to a girl behind the bar and concentrated on his moves, grabbing his crotch, throwing his head back, tongue out.

Harry could feel himself getting hard in his pants. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. The guy was standing on the same spot but stamping his feet, arms aloft, rolling his hips suggestively. He brought his head forward to the crowd and locked eyes with Harry. His jaw fell open, mouth slack, pupils blown.

Or the one where Harry and his friends hit Vegas for post Uni blow out, he meets a bar owner called Louis who rocks his world. Pure lust overtakes them both but it's more, it's just so much more than that..

💚 Can I lay by your side?  (59k)

"Harry, tell me what you are going to do when you leave here."

“I’m going to drive to a hotel, drink some of that vodka, enough to give me dutch courage." Harry looks down at his feet, colour blooming in his cheeks. “I’m going to find a bar, find a man who wants to sleep with me, find some weed and lose myself for a few days.”

“Look, do you even know your way around Manchester, do you know anyone here?”

He shakes his head.

“So you are just going to pick up a random man and sleep with him?” Louis huffs out incredulously.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Or

Fate brings Louis to Harry. Alone, Harry's buying vodka in Louis' local shop. He takes him home, this beautiful stranger, giving him his undivided attention and the weekend of his life. Together they tick off Harry's 'to do' list and fall in love at the same time. Harry has secrets and despairingly, on Monday morning, he has to go back to his old life. Louis and Harry meet up six months later by accident in quite different circumstances.

💚 If this feeling flows both ways.  (72k)

'You're a massive flirt Tommo, you were practically shagging on skype.' Zayn punches me playfully in the arm.

'Did you fucking see him? My god he is so my type. Thank god I chose that agency, he's hot, it will be great fun, can't wait.' I squint my eyes at him.

'You're actually doing this then yeah?'

'Yeah I am Zayn, I have been dreading turning up at that wedding alone. I can stop worrying now and just enjoy it. He seems cool, think we will hit it off and if he's used to this kind of thing then I'm sure he will be a true professional and ace his role.'

'Mmmh, I just worry Lou that all. Me and Liam, we just want you to be happy.'

'I know love, I know and I'm sure Prince Charming is just around the corner.' I eye roll at him. 'But until then, I'll act it out with a hot dude.' ~ Or the one where Louis hires an escort to go as his boyfriend to Lottie's wedding and to affirm his sexuality at several work engagements. Louis is very rich and very successful, Harry is an escort, hired to attend to your every need. From the Sony winter ball in Vegas to the Grammys. From Malibu to Miami, the Bahamas to London, follow the journey of Louis the songwriter and Harry the male escort.

💚 We will find a way (54k)

Shag, Marry, throw over a cliff...

'Ok, Kate Upton, Emma Watson, Nicole Scherzinger?'

'Aww shit, ummm Ohhh this is hard Haz, umm ahhhh shag Emma, marry Nicole, chuck Kate over a cliff.'

'You'd chuck KATE UPTON over a cliff, whats the matter with you?'

'I know I know but that was impossible.'

'Hmmmm, ok come on hit me with my 3.'

'Ok ok I'm thinking ummm gay men gay men ermmmmmm.'

'Louis..'

'Mmm?'

'They don't have to be gay, you can hit me up with straight men too, I have an imagination.'

Cheeky grin.

'Ok Becks, ummmm Chris Hemsworth and ermmmmm me.'

'Ok well this is easy, I'd shag Hemsworth, marry Becks and you'd be head first over that fucking cliff.'

Or alternatively... Harry Styles, fresh out of Uni, his first job is assistant tour manager to 17 Black, join them on their tour of European Summer music festivals. Temptation takes over and Harry and Louis become a thing, but can Louis handle this thing? He's not even into guys so why is he in Harry's bed?

Some angst, lots of fluff and sex and music.

[jadevndermeer]

( dua lipa. 24. cisfemale. she/her. ) ❛ jade vandermeer, an aries from seattle, washington, moved into holloway three years ago. they are a musician that lives in apartment 5d here and their neighbors don’t particularly mind them. some say they can be volatile and impulsive but others say they’re bold and magnetic. anyways, one thing is for sure: you hear tongue tied by grouplove, it’s jadey-v blasting it.

INTRODUCTION : JADE VANDERMEER

hey! it’s ya girl jess & i’m here with my girl, jade. a little about me, in case you didn’t see my lil ooc intro in the discord – i’m 22 and in the bst timezone. i’m ur local bisexual aries disaster who is indie band trash & resides in rainy england. i played johnny before the revamp ( the nico mirallegro fc! ) and was also an admin for a lil bit. without further ado, here’s my babe!

my d*iscord is @ soft aries#7087 & i prefer to plot there over IMs!

jade’s pinterest board can be found here!

BACKGROUND

jade is the daughter of two business-people. the pair of them strict & straight as a line for her whole childhood. she was born in seattle, but since her father is dutch (hence her last name) and her mother is albanian, the family spent a lot of time travelling to their respective homelands, which was just about the most fun she had as a child. when at home in baltimore, she was kept under close supervision as her parents were the typical snobby, superficial semi-wealthy types and way too overprotective.

leaving the states for long periods at a time made it somewhat hard for jade to keep a friendship group, so she found fun in things that she could do alone like songwriting, singing and learning to play bass guitar. these were just hobbies at first until she entered her mid-teen years and began to take it more seriously, knowing she had the talent to do so. 

music forced her to come out of her shell massively. it gave her the confidence to. kids at school would want to hear her play all the time, and she was happy to show off her talents to others, which helped her to make friends

of course, around this time is when she developed a taste for fun. she wanted to hang out and go to parties and stuff like a normal teenager but again, her parents were still being way too strict & sheltering her

so she had to make do with sneaking out when she could, and when she couldn’t go have fun she continued to refine her passion as a musician, starting to post covers & original songs to youtube and bandcamp & even managing to get quite a substantial fanbase

however, her parents weren’t happy with this. they thought that music wasn’t a real job and that she needed to follow in the family footsteps and work towards being employed by their business. so, they made sure to only extend the offer of financial support through college if she promised to study business, marketing or something similar. and so, she had no choice but to agree to their ultimatum

she began studying at a university in new york, with a degree in business management. of course — she hated it. her studies didn’t align with her passion and so, to the dismay of her parents, she dropped out only a year and a half in. 

it was around this time that jade’s parents figured out that she was going to pursue the music thing no matter what and she wouldn’t be working for the family business. their ultimatum had technically failed, and jade was worried about potential problems between herself and her parents if she were to go back to seattle. and so, the search for a roommate in new york started. she moved into holloway as a matter of urgency

she could finally focus on being herself and taking up music as her full-time focus. there was an issue though, she needed a band. though, that issue was solved when she got together with some fellow holloway residents to form the indie rock band solar eclipse. with jade on bass, of course !!

jade worked as a barista and spent any free time she had working on music with solar eclipse. over the past few years, they’ve managed to take off quite a bit — they’ve signed to a record label, so jade quit her barista job and the band started to work on an album! everything seems to be falling into place.

PERSONALITY

fiery aries lady. aka charismatic and magnetic but do not cross her bad side sksksk

comes across kind of self-centred / vain but really she’s just super proud of herself and has a lot of self-confidence?

very all or nothing. doesn’t like to half-ass things. v determined and inspired at all times

can be a lil intense but is high-key lovely, v sweet and loyal, cares about her friends so much

she has a very strong personality and can be a bit of a liability. does a lot of things she regrets. doesn’t always think before she speaks

impulsive and unpredictable, she’s one of those extroverts that can become draining to be around after a while. she’s so talkative and excitable, a little too much. your muse may find her annoying or endearing depending on what they’re like

a bicon ( shocker.... not )

hopeless romantic, idealist / optimist, quixotic type.

aesthetics: yellow, converse high tops, vinyl pressings of all great indie records, denim mini skirts, mischievous grins, gold glitter

i’m gonna stop here bc i reallllly wanna jump into some plotting !

SUGGESTED CONNECTIONS

best friend(s) — it’s probably a given that this is taken up by her bandmates but i’m open for her to have more too! only requirement for this is that they vibe well with her personality!

past college friend(s) — friends she met at college before she dropped out. maybe they drifted after she left & now they’ve graduated and their friendship will rekindle in holloway?

bad influence — jade is a mischievous little binch. loves to party, go on wild spontaneous adventures, still has a rebellious streak thanks to growing up with strict parents. this person is a bit of a partner in crime for jade, always convincing her to join them in doing dumb shit

good influence — maybe another musician who mentors her as well, but this isn’t required? basically just anyone who can keep her grounded when her [ jenna marbles vc: ARIES ] energy causes her to wild out 

exes (on good or bad terms) — i love angst k thanks. if they’re on good terms, maybe they stayed friends & they’re still in love w jade but she doesn’t know ? if it’s bad terms maybe the relationship ended rly messily or they cheated on her and now they can’t stand each other, idc just gimme angst

a slow burn love interest — i’m not a fan of ship plots that happen right away like??? i like a cute plot that can build and develop for a while !! gimme a lil somethin somethin. our characters have to really work together for this tho so ig i’ll be picky when it comes to this plot

anything honestly!! hmu and if none of these appeal to you we can brainstorm!

[curiousdamage]

Because of You

A/N: I Own Nothing!

A Careless Man’s Careful Daughter Universe

___________________

Becca hated having lunchroom duty. One hundred fourteen to eighteen-year-olds all talking about different things at once sent her senses into overdrive and set her nerves on edge. The only nice thing was that she had a free period after to relax in silence. She entered the cafeteria to a teacher's worst nightmare.  Two boys were squared off with each other with three other’s circling them. Kyler and his buddies were up to their usual tricks.

She quickly scanned the room, finding Lea Anne on the far side of the room from the boys. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started towards the boys to try to deescalate the situation when Kyler shoved the smaller boy into a table smirking about ''lame ass" karate.

She stopped. Even teachers weren't supposed to get involved once physical violence started.

She sent a student for security and Sylvia. She expected Kyler to rough the kid up to show off. What she didn't expect was for the boy to get back to his feet saying, "Its not lame-ass karate. It's Cobra Kai."

He blocked Kyler's next punch, pinned his arm and delivered a jab punch to Kyler's nose.

At first, it looked like the boy was going to be hurt before help got there and she was trying to decide how best to intervene as just shouting "stop," wasn't working.

Then the boy found his feet and managed to throw off Kyler's choke hold, using his hold on Kyler's arm to pull him into a kick.

Becca was stunned. He slithered. It was Cobra Kai. But how? She knew her Dad was not in the area and Uncle Terry, well, he wasn't starting any dojo's. She couldn't have stopped the fight anyway as the new kid had knocked down Kyler's whole group in less than three minutes before security could even get there.

She took the boys getting up from the floor to the nurse while Sylvia took the other boy to her office.  As she had the next period free she was tasked with sitting with the new boy, who she learned was named Miguel Diaz, while he waited for his grandmother.

“You know, karate was a really big deal in West Valley when I went to school here," she said.  "But I didn't think anyone was teaching locally anymore. Where did you learn?"

''Oh, my neighbor, Sensei Lawrence, teaches me," he replied softly.

"Sensei Lawrence? You mean, Johnny Lawrence?"

"Yes, ma’am, do you know him?" Miguel asked.

"I was in school at the same time he was," she answered, neutrally.

"He's great, isn't he?" he asked excitedly.

Becca wasn't sure she would describe him that way but Miguel didn't wait for her to answer.

"Those guys have been hassling me since summer. They tried to beat me up outside our Mini-Mart. Sensei Lawrence stopped them, but then they did beat me up another time. I guess he decided it would be easier to teach me to defend myself than to keep saving my behind all the time," Miguel said.

She didn't ask why he hadn't reported the bullying. Reseda kids never came out on top when dealing with Encino kids. But this left her with a dilemma.  When Uncle Terry had died the year before, she'd made sure that everything to do with Cobra Kai was in her inheritance for a reason.  The twins didn't remember the poison that damn snake spread like she did. She had never wanted to see it started back up.

But Johnny was just teaching this kid in self-defense. She learned Cobra Kai karate in self-defense and she never  became a giant asshole. Not that she knew of anyway. Bobby hadn't become an asshole, the tournament aside. Tommy was a decent guy. Jimmy had seemed to be doing well at their class reunion. If he hadn't changed in thirty years, she doubted that three more made a huge difference.  She hadn't seen Dutch in decades and the last time Bobby had seen Johnny, Angela had been a baby.  So she couldn’t speak for them.

Johnny was trying to help the kid. That had to mean something, right?

She knew what Bobby would say.  Just hearing the name would have him insisting that they go down and shut Johnny down right away. But even if she did own the Cobra Kai brand, she didn't own the knowledge in Johnny's head. Who was she to say he couldn't share it with Miguel? It wasn't like he'd started the dojo back up.

She’d wrestled with her decision for hours, especially that she couldn't tell Bobby just yet, but for now, she wasn't going to say anything to Johnny. Teaching one kid wasn't worth her starting a fight, was it?  Especially if said fight would pit Bobby against Johnny.

A month later, she couldn't ignore the talk anymore. Everyone had been talking about Miguel's fight and Cobra Kai Karate. Half the school was claiming to be taking lessons or were going to. There was even a website for it, for goodness' sake.

She had to do something She knew she did.  She decided to go talk to Johnny alone at first.Maybe he'd quit and just hate her and leave Bobby out of it. It took her another week to get up the courage to go.

She checked the website to make sure he would not have a class going on when she arrived. Miguel and Eli Moskowitz were there but if she waited, she knew she might not have the nerve to do that again.

The bells jingled as she opened the door and stepped inside. On the wall of the entrance was the large Cobra Kai emblem. As poisonous as it was to her past, she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and running her hand over the snake, her mind rushing back to that night so many, too many, years ago when she had helped her Dad and Uncle Terry paint the same emblem on the walls of the old dojo. She'd felt so grown-up helping them, like she was really apart of things. In all likelihood, it was just because Daddy had nowhere else to leave her while both he and Cara worked, but he never made it seem like that. They'd made her feel needed and important even though she'd gotten more paint on herself than the walls. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She hadn't expected a painting to have that effect on her.

"Welcome to Cobra Kai. Are you ready to learn to kick some ass?"

She turned towards the voice and smiled. "Oh, really, Johnny? You gonna teach me how to be a Cobra Kai?"

He dropped the paper he was holding, his face a mask of disbelief before a smile lit up his features. In seconds, he crossed the room, lifting her up in a hug and spinning her around.

"Hell, no, Becca," he laughed, "You could probably still teach me a thing or two." He kissed her cheek. "What are you doing here? You're probably the last person I expected to walk through that door. Is…, is Bobby with you? God, I haven't seen you in what? Twenty years?"

"Closer to thirty," she laughed.

"Really?" He looked shocked. "Damn, we're old." He hugged her again.

''Bobby's at work," she said. "He doesn't know I am here. I..., I wanted to talk to you alone, and I just realized how that sounds.  If you make a dirty joke, I will beat you in front of your students."

"Eh, I know it takes Luke Skywalker to get you all hot and bothered," he smirked.

''Johnny!" She playfully swatted at him.

“Oh yeah. It was Han Solo," he grinned, leading her to the office.

"Johnny, those are my students," she laughed motioning to the boys. "Well, Eli is anyway."

"Eli?"

"Kid with the mohawk," she replied.

"Hawk."

“So, you gave him that ridiculous name. That tracks," she nodded.  That was also why he was so ridiculously proud of it, too.

"Want a beer?"

''Aren't you teaching?"

“And?" he shrugged.

"I still think it taste like vomit," she replied.

"You drink enough, you won't care," he grinned, leaning back  in his chair.

She laughed. "God, Johnny, we've missed you. He's missed you. You should come by sometime.  Have dinner or something."

"Maybe I will." he nodded. "You still live in that rinky, little apartment in North Hills, right? The one that you both couldn't fit in the kitchen at the same time.  The one that you had to stand in the bathtub to take a piss?"  He poked fun at their first apartment together.

"It wasn’t that small," She shook her head.  ''And I'm pretty sure Angela was conceived in that kitchen so...," she laughed again.

"Well, I guess you found a way to make it work," he smirked.

"We actually live in Encino. Not far from his house growing up. Lea Anne walks to her grandpa's every day.”

“I haven't seen the Browns in years.  How are they?"  The Browns were like a second family to him. And he treated them horribly.

"Dr. Adam is great, but we lost Mrs. Lea in two thousand four, right after our Lea was born."

"Damn," he said again. He hadn't even known. "I hate to hear that." Bobby had taken a week off from school to stay with him when he lost Laura. "So, what can I do for you?  We both know you didn't come all the way down here to ask me around to dinner or shoot the shit about things that happened thirty years ago."

"Well, when I woke up this morning I was coming here to tell you to shut down," she admitted.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, sounding offended.

She looked around, nervously, "I own the Cobra Kai karate brand and all that entails."

"Cobra Kai brand?" He sounded confused.  "How do you own the Cobra Kai karate brand?"

"I inherited it," she replied. "Johnny, didn't you look into all this before you opened?"

“Yeah, duh," he scoffed but she could tell he totally had not. "So what? You want me to pay you or something? What are you getting at?"  He could never get ahead. Every time he got something good, life kicked him in the teeth again. This time it was a double kick coming from someone he had been thrilled to see That he’d thought was a friend.

"Come on, Johnny,”' she snapped. "I wouldn't do that to you. I didn't inherit the brand so I could make money. I did it so I could make sure it stayed shut down. You boys weren't the only ones whose lives were poisoned by that damn snake. I came to bring you this." She threw an envelope on his desk. "And I don't want a damn dime for it."

“What is it?" He looked as if the envelope would bite him.

"My permission to legally use the brand," she replied. “I think you're doing good here and I don't want you to get hung up again. The man who owns this building is an asshole and if he thinks he can make a buck, he will have you out anyway he can.  There's one less way now."

"Thank you," he said humbly as he read the paper. "What changed your mind?"

“Eli Moskowitz." She looked out the window at him and Miguel roughhousing in the main room. "I've been teaching him music all the way back to Mommy and Me. Today, I realized that I could hear his voice for the first time ever. For the first time ever, he laughs out loud. He smiles. He doesn't sit like this anymore." She slumped down and covered her mouth with her hand before sitting back, up. ''Aisha Robinson. She used to try to make herself as small as possible, as invisible as possible. Now, she's proud of herself, of her strength, she doesn't try to disappear any more. I can tell who your students are. They are the kids who always tried to hide and not be noticed.  Now, they walk with their heads held high and their shoulders back. They're proud and confident and they don't care who notices.  That has to be because of you and your Cobra Kai."

Johnny swallowed and shook his head in disbelief. "You know I'm going to have to hug you again."  No one had said anything that nice to him in years.

"I'll take it," she said. "If you'll accept that invite to dinner. You know, for real with a date and a time and everything. And you don't have to stand in the tub to take a piss now."

He was laughing as he walked around the desk and hugged her.  It wasn’t until later that night that he realized that if she inherited Cobra Kai Karate then the old man was really gone and it hurt more than he’d ever imagined it would.

[theartofwarword]

Bill White -profile

All rights reserved © 2018, –author, USTAKNOW (alias)

(In 3 Part Harmony –part 1 of 3; all three below)

Until they throw dirt in your face, let them throw dirt… that’s what I say. What do you say?   – Thud, thud, thud…, anyone listening?

I met this guy about a year ago or so on FAWM (FAWM.org), – performer, singer, songwriter, architect of all things visual and audio and mapped to the brain via heart. Interesting, aye? It seems we all gotta little bit of this guy in us and what may all, connect us.

Tell me, who wouldn’t want to read a story about integrity of life, acute politics, high-life nights out, and tastefully refined debauchery?   – Read on.

Yes, it’s about MUSIC. Music and a 50 year in the making craftsman from Seattle Washington, USA, now a Peruvian exile to finally fresh air and great coffee! We should all be so lucky to live in an old Peach Orchard! It’s true. However, like Harlem, NY, it may not be what you think by mere words, – Harlem started as a Dutch outpost, became farmland, then a resort town, then a commuter town,  and it is what it is today… like Bill’s Peach Orchard. Paradise to him because there grows well, his wife, daughter, music and global Internet friend—ships. Here’s one launching now, again.

So, it’s funny how folks across history, lump labels of people, – like, keeping with the old “dirt analogy” attributed to “Farmers” (musicians?) for centuries (of Harlem and Peach Orchards), – “Oh, he’s just a dirt farmer… ”. Like musicians?, easy to forget until some life event you then want a “little music” to go with it. Farmers, – yeah, not important while the A&P is well stocked, – until it’s not.

  – Like the very generic current mainstream corporate music industry of Break-beat re-runs, midi-delic samples from what era sampled?, 1970 – ironic!, (well, if when then from). Then, that silly dirt farmer-musician becomes esteemed genius, warrior of manipulation from the hand of God for food, music and soulful fulfillment, – musician-warrior.

Ah yes, music…, that is what we’re talking about here?, – who can’t listen to music on a full stomach?

Bill White –profile:  (Part 2 of 3)

Consider Bill White, native of (yet again), Washington State, Seattle, USA. Oh my God…, it must be all of the great unending rain watering of all these musicated bands of people like in Alice in Chains, Foo Fighters, Heart, Hendrix –Experience, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, SoundGarden, and even before them Bing Crosby and still plucking strings Carol Kaye, et al! (Not all “great”, but from Washington State and arguably influential musicators.) Within our time line of music encapsulating Bill’s mainstream antithesis, we in brief see that the ‘60’s resolved the '50’s, influencing the '70’s which then moved bands of musicians forward which landed in the '90’s, –after commercial boundaries of the '80’s caged originality. Within that mix too, was Bill White, –doing his thing. Nirvana, Pearl Jam peaked from under the corporate music rubble with others of a different voice yet, like Alice in Chains. Black Sabbath becoming cliché yielding to –aggression of posture within music. Kurt Cobain’s kinda dark became loved, while monolithic riff monsters fell off the radar for real performing songwriting sung to a not yet commercialized audience laughing at the “devils triad” now ~“Beat” to death by corporate formulations. Within that mix too, was Bill White, –doing his thing. Depression, Disillusionment, Spiritual R&B Folk Grunge, (what the hell is grunge anyway?), had many players, and Bill White was one of them…, down in the “dirt of choice” to do their music as they saw fit, just like they brushed their teeth, and bathed themselves each night, –they did their music.  

  –Not for sale, unless taken as-is in the paradigm of which this all started down in the Delta, and American Slave Fields before all that birthed in the 1970’s “Rock Band Era” that bridge over to today’s now, – in peril music. 

Independent musicians are the new forever, suicide tide of music and Bill White was there 50 years ago, and still here TODAY and will be tomorrow until they are throwing fine Peruvian soil on his road worn “music factory”, temple of his music souled body, –birthed so many years ago from his parents love. – “Mom, said, never let the Blues leave your music.“ (Bill White, 2017)  

Bill White –profile: (Part 3 of 3)

Bill White was recently asked ”what do performing songwriters talk about" when they get together? Bill said, in summary, –nothing. He explains across a number of comments that, “they play songs to each other”, or as he said, they share an occasional Snickers Bar if found on he floor of the car they’re riding in, next to the soap.

I can only guess Tom Waits, part of this coming story comment, –was living out of his car at the time. Nice poetic license! However, Waits was actually living at the West HolLywood Tropicana Motel, Santa Monica Blvd. (click to follow link), and I understand this may be the car of which we speak, Tom Waits Lincoln (click to follow link). –Nice visual frame of reference for the rest below

So then, proceeding, Bill comments: “what does one talk about with Tom Waits? Barber shops, the statues of horse jockeys on the lawns of Beverly Hills mansions, – seldom about songwriting unless it is a question of what to name your female characters. The more you try to define something, the smaller cage you make for it.” Bill continued with: “Songwriters don’t so much talk about songwriting, as play each other the songs they have written and then talk about them specifically. Waits, played me a song once he was excited about because it sounded like a Springsteen song. Several years later there it was, –on a Springsteen album, ‘Jersey Girl’. Then he said he wasn’t going to make any more Jazz albums because, the company didn’t promote them.” Bill then explains: “when I started out on music, the people who were famous were famous because they were better than everyone else. In those days, my work was inferior to almost everything you would hear on the radio. Of course in those days we didn’t have the resources to approximate the quality of the top recordings. If you wanted to get the Clapton or the Hendrix sound, you had to work hard to figure out how they did it. Today you just push a button on your pod and you can sound like anybody you want. So at first there was no question of fame. It just was never going to happen. But then, after keeping at it for over a decade, the industry started to show interest in me.” Then Bill says something I personally have heard many times, and at risk of inserting myself here will say I did that too, in preface to the below comment, 

  –he ran. 

Bill explains: “I was a peer to my peers. although never successful in the songwriting business, I made more money at being a failure than 99% of the wannabes who fumbled around the streets of Hollywood with a cassette demo in their shirt pocket. Then a manager who was tiring of the monotonous fame of the super-group he managed showed an interest in developing my band, and I fled!!! The last thing I wanted was to sound like the shit I heard, and hated on the radio. On my own without a band, I had my good years and my bad years.” From what I hear from Bill, even beyond this one of many conversations with him over the past year is what I’ve observed within myself and as Bill says “there are100,000 other Bill Whites in the world”, – us all … : “I was so far outside what was happening that my stuff never really connected with the local scene in Boston, which is to where I fled. But then came along New England folk music revival. And while some kids were flocking to Seattle in hopes of becoming the new Eddie Vedder, hordes of songwriters were showing up in Harvard Square with dreams of becoming th next Tracy Chapman. With new venues opening for original acoustic music, I was finally able to stabilize myself musically and develop a fanbase. That went on for several productive years until…, bingo! I met Brett Anderson, Lead-singer for the London band "Suede”, and Rock and Roll reclaimed me again. When that scene passed, I moved to the South [southern USA states] where I was befriended by James Blood Ulmer, the most innovative Blues Guitarist since Hendrix. And I was back in the Blues, from where I started so long ago. I then went back to Seattle, worked at borders where I met some 20-something musicians, and became a Lead-guitar player for the first time in my life. Now, stepping away from the Mic and just playing whatever I wanted to play without having to worry if it was going over well with the audience. Finally, I teamed up with Toni Talia Marcus, who had played with Van Morrison from ‘79 to ‘80 and soon had my own band. I was writing new songs again. I always had decent sized audiences, but never built up a real, true fan base. I never stayed in the same location or state of music to be able to do that.” [Toni Marcus , –on the album, “Into the Music” (1979) Van Morrison, played violin, –entire album.] 

So, let me pause here to inject that,      –as I was reviewing the dialog Bill and I had over the past year (you should really read the Forum Posts after FAWM, 50/90 ends), I wondered what I could possibly write about him, worthy of both him and the reader, you-all. I feel anyone who “gets” this narrative will really “get” the state of music today and why it may well be one of the greatest times to be in the “music making” world. 

Bill responded to me when I asked him, –“what am I doing here with all this great real life music history of yours, ours, all of us?”: Bill said,    –“I think the hook in my story was caught by you on a few occasions, and that is…, there are 100,000 Bill Whites in the world. It is a universal story. We 100,000 Bill Whites who have endured, have produced a far greater body of work than the 10,000 successful pop stars who came and went.” –Arguably, the present state of musicators today! It’s why I personally refer to “us-all” as warrior-musicians. 

Bill continues within other comments: “For me, we could start with my archive, [https://billwhite.bandcamp.com].

   – The reasoning behind putting out 50 albums in 6 months, is the current emergence of the Arts, –now that the industry of art is collapsing. Moreover, is my home town state of Seattleists with no interest in becoming famous, and those who did become famous were destroyed by it, in one way or another. I managed to create 59 years worth of music that never stopped evolving because I was never trapped into repeating myself through deadend careerism. There are probably 100,000 Bill Whites in the world, people who have created bodies of work just as immense, diverse, and assured as the discographies of the most famous. There is enough unheard high quality material out there to fill radio play-lists for the next 100 years.” Bill continues: “why post 50 albums of songs I have written over the last 50 years. One reason is that whenever I give my opinion on something, I am asked what I have ever done that I would dare criticize the work of someone well known and loved. Well, now I can point them to the archive and say here, this is what I have done, I've been doing this shit my whole life and have the right to say whatever I want to say about it. Music is a language. Anyone can learn it, but like any other language, the important thing is what you say with it. Had I accepted the route of fame when it was offered me in 1981, I would never have written the songs I ended up writing. I would have had a brief career, and after that, nobody would have wanted to hear anything from me again. “He is so ‘80’s” they would say, and they would confine me there. Worse, I would probably be dead, along with most of the other People from Seattle that went down with the sucker punch of fame. In my life, I have managed to reach thousands of people with my music, and without ever becoming known!!! Now, how many people in their lives even manage to communicate what is inside them to even a dozen people? Not many people I would suspect. But every artist, no matter how obscure, reaches many many people, most of whom he will never know heard him.”

Well that’s true of well know famous, infamous, long time past writers, artists of our ancient past! However, Bill is on a cusp of almost famous, could be famous, should be famous, –one may only wonder. How many artist of any kind never knew their effect, e.g., –Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”, (which is for me two dimensional music), is a global staple, yet he never knew what was to come of his legacy. [https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/the-starry-night/bgEuwDxel93-Pg?hl=en (click link to view)]

It’s interesting to me that we don’t often think about our beginnings until we actually arrive somewhere from which we may look back from and see well what we’ve done. Bill explains: “I started taking songwriting seriously when I traded my trumpet for a guitar in 1970. For several years the results were not very good. I wrote three songs a week to play at the open Mic, and never got much response. I was told my harmonic experiments were interesting, but my lyrics were overly influenced by the poetic theories of Robert Graves, and few people had much idea what I was singing about. Besides, the competition was so strong in those days that my primitive meanderings had no chance in the market. 

It wasn’t until Punk Rock opened peoples ears that I began to connect with the public. I wrote some pretty good stuff from ‘78 to ‘82 and had a decent following for my bands. Then I moved from Seattle to Boston, where nobody knew me. So I languished until ‘86, when I met Tracy Chapman, and a host of others in the New England songwriters revival. I recorded an album, but was dissatisfied with it and used it as a demo. That put me on the Folk circuit for the next five years. 

I also got involved in theater and wrote the scores for two plays that toured Russia. Then Brit-pop hit and I went back to Rock music. So I then moved back to Seattle and started a band with an old friend who had been Soundgarden’s drum tech, now out of work because the band broke up. We recorded an EP, which was enthusiastically received, but there was to much conflict in everybody’s lives so that’s when, [commented above], I headed South, where I was befriended by {James Blood Ulmer who led me into the world of harmolodic Blues. Click link for further} [–Add’l:  Ulmer’s album “Birthright” won Blues Album of the Year, “DownBeat’s” ‘05 Readers Poll. Click link for further.]

I stayed there until I was able to create my own style out of it, and made some 4-track recordings that I liked. However, that self production indie musician quality of that era could not be marketed commercially back then [unlike today’s tech]. So, eventually I returned to Seattle yet again, and wrote music for a young poet I had met. 

We started a band with him as singer and me as guitarist, and had a pretty good run until he got married and disappeared. It was then I teamed up with ex Van Morrison side-woman, violinist Toni Marcus [commented above], and returned to writing for and fronting a band. And as well then, joining a group called “Songwriters in Seattle” spurred me to new creativity in writing. However then [concerning Bills big move to Peru], for many reasons, to many to engage here in this narrative, other than the best one which I am glad to comment, – I then left the country to marry the love of my life, a girl from Peru. Here in Peru is where I discovered FAWM [http://fawm.org/fawmers/billwhite51/, 2014]. 

Now, generally speaking, I only write songs during the month of February, which gives a new cohesion to each group of songs. An exception was made last year, when I participated in 50/90 [http://fiftyninety.fawmers.org/user/billwhite51, 2017]     –which I used primarily as a vehicle to review my output, as well as write over 50 new songs and engaged a few dozen collaborations! 

When that was over, I spent the rest of the year putting together a career spanning 45 albums for Bandcamp [https://billwhite.bandcamp.com, 2018]. This year, 2018, is my fifth FAWM.”

So, Bill, –let’s revisit the above question which is what this discussion was anchored on, “what do performing songwriters talk about” when they get together?” To complete that comment started by Bill above, he provided several anecdotal examples:  

“I was at a wedding with Peter Gabriel, for several hours we hid behind the Crudite Table and said nothing to each other. On another occasion, in the back seat driving down Hollywood Boulevard with Tom Waits in the driver seat, I asked him if I could have the Snickers Bar I found on the floor, he said no, but the bar of soap was mine if I wanted it. Hanging out with Tim Hardin, all I did was look out for him when he was stoned. Another time, I was side by side with Elvis Costello on three occasions, and neither of us spoke a word to each other, as we had not been introduced. I made small talk with Jon Bon Jovi for half an hour backstage, thinking he was a roadie. Another time, I offered a part in a play I had written to Dar Williams, never knowing she was a songwriter, and a brilliant one at that. I asked Marianne Faithful if she would ever do another project with Mick Jagger and she laughed. I asked Rickie Lee Jones when Tom [Waits] would be getting home. I spoke with Lou Reed about the sequencing of the songs on Ecstasy and asked if he had stolen the idea for the cover from a certain unnameable Andy Warhol film. Brett Anderson and I talked for hours about the composition of the songs on Dog Man Star. And so, in brief, with songwriters, the matter of songwriting seldom came up.”

No, it seems we, artists, want to be heard, we want to play our songs and hear others, –it’s how we communicate best. Bill explains his experience with songwriting and feedback from peers: “In my early days of songwriting, I had an extended group of friends in real time and space, and we would talk [unlike on line today] and play and write all day and night, staying up for days sometimes, and always giving each other hell, –no sensitivity training then. But when one of us wrote something good, the praise would fall like rain. Otherwise, we were tough on each other, and each of us had a good idea of where we fit in the grand scheme of things. And we got better and better at what we did. Not because of the praise but because of the criticism. When somebody did something unusual they had to explain it. Now some of those same people are the touchiest creatures on earth. But it took them many years to get to that point where they feel they are beyond criticism. For all you who are new to the art of songwriting, this is no time to be touchy. Ask for the harshest criticism and toughen your skin and improve your craft. Study the odes and practice the forms. I aways like discussing songwriting, but am usually to busy writing songs to spend a lot of time on it, –just discussing it. However, I am glad to have friends here, though [on-line], who bring up the questions that are worth taking the time to ponder.

I spent ten years writing about music for a daily newspaper in a major US city, and my biggest challenge was interviewing inarticulate musicians and then writing an article that made them sound intelligent.” 

In the course of our conversations, mine and Bills, and skimming through the hours of tracks, albums Bill is archiving of his work I asked him about a “favorites” or “greatest hits” compilation, so to speak: “I have considered a greatest hits collection, but could never make the choices myself. But, if I were honest about it I could make a compilation of the songs that have been the most well received. 

That compilation would surely include “Junk” (from Manicure), “Sleepless dreamers” (from Tales From the Forsaken Art House), “White Boy” (from the Dimes), “Smoky Edge” (from Ravenna), “Five Seconds to Midnight” (from King and Country), “Pink Lipstick” (from Older Master Cute), “Esmeralda” (from Legends) and “A Billion Women” (from Rain City Blues). Thats six. There are probably another four in stuff I have not gotten to yet. So, maybe once I have ten I’ll take your advice and do a “greatest hits collection”.” 

Bill continues, explaining: “The worst thing is when a novelty song catches on. I wrote a satire on new age music called Walt Disney on Ice, and every where I played, there were requests for it. When I started refusing to play it, lots of people stopped coming to my shows. “Five Seconds to Midnight” (from King and Country) spent three years in the top ten of Neil Young’s “Songs of War Video Chart”, – twenty years after I recorded it! So those longevity things are pretty reliable. What people respond to on any given night should not be taken too seriously. Oh, with the exception of concerning my wife, – who first contacted me through Myspace after playing my song “A Billion Women” 100 times in a row! I checked the stats, –she had!” 

A good way to conclude this is with advice from “Mom”: “My mama used to warn me not to ever let the Blues go out of my music, for then my soul would be lost. There’s Blues in most of my songs and many are pure Blues. I’m currently putting together a “best of album” for Bandcamp to be called “20 Years of the Blues”.”

Look for it folks, Bill does Blues, –well. 

– Folks, if you read to here, thank you. We do hope you enjoyed it! (If all the “100,000 Bill Whites out there” bought each others songs, just one, how nice would that be!)

USTAKNOW, 2018