#song notes

[veelovespanic]

Some research I did on Desolation Row, both by Bob Dylan and covered by MCR. Trying to write more about songs and albums (Sorry if you can’t read my handwriting 😪)

[songofthewood]

The Ties that Bind

The clinic lay wrapped in the hush that only came in the quiet hours of night. No boots pacing outside in the corridor, no groans rose from behind curtained cots. The beds stood neatly made and untouched, their soft linens ghostly in the low lamplight. It had been some time since Heartwood had mounted a company-wide mission and the stillness felt like a reprieve, proof that their mercenaries were, for once, keeping clear of the kind of trouble that led to broken bones. Or worse. 

Firelight pooled warmly in the hearth, lending the room its amber glow. By it, Gentle Fist had fallen asleep. The Roegadyn’s immense frame overflowed the chair he occupied, his feet, broad as bear paws, propped up on an ottoman. A book lay open across his chest, its pages fluttering faintly with each thunderous snore. 

At the alchemical stove, Aislinn stirred a simmering potion, copper pot gleaming in the glow. When the door clicked shut behind Maijah, the Hyur lifted her head.

She had a way of looking at people that felt less like being seen and more like being dissected. Her gaze slid over Maijah from top to bottom, sharp as a scalpel, missing nothing. It was the look of a woman who catalogued and inventoried the world around her. 

“Something you’re needing, Maijah?” Aislinn asked, already turning back to her brew. The ladle clinked softly against copper. “And thank you for the foxglove you dropped off the other sun.”

Maijah stepped carefully around Gentle Fist, placing each footfall with deliberate silence so as not to wake him. “Of course.” she replied. She paused. “Though, an odd thing for a medic to request.”

One red brow arched from Aislinn in an unspoken question.

“To my knowledge, it’s poisonous.” Maijah continued, studying the smaller woman. 

Aislinn huffed, a sound that might have been amusement. “In certain dosages, yes. In smaller ones, it revives a weak heart.” She glanced over her spectacles, eyes glinting. “Alchemy is funny that way.”

Maijah inclined her head, though unease prickled beneath her skin. Aislinn had given no cause for mistrust, but somehow the viera wouldn’t have been surprised to find out the medic had indeed made a poison with the foxglove she requested. “It’s an art with a multitude of purposes.” she said carefully.

Aislinn hummed in agreement and stirred once more before setting the ladle aside. “But I doubt you’ve come to discuss my hobbies.” She stepped back, plucked a square of baklava from a waiting plate, and took a bite. “So. Out with it.”

The clinic felt smaller somehow in the dark of night with Maijah facing Aislinn. Too quiet. Her ears flicked back, betraying her uncertainty. “Suppose there were two people.” she began, voice hesitant.

Aislinn made a low noise of disapproval at the word ‘suppose’ but waved for her to continue.

“And there was an…event. In which one unleashed a great deal of aether to save the other.” Maijah swallowed. “Could that have ill effects? Make the one who was saved think or feel things they do not truly feel?”

“That’s not much to go on.” Aislinn replied dryly. “You’re describing magical transference. I think.”

Maijah shifted, fingers knotting together.

“I don’t deal in hypotheticals.” Aislinn went on. “If you want accuracy, I need facts.”

“I can’t.” The words were strained, almost pained.

Aislinn shrugged, as if the problem was merely a misplaced tool rather than a forced confession and neither was here nor there for the hyur in any event. “Then I can’t help you.”

“But you can.” Maijah insisted softly. “First impressions, at least.”

Aislinn studied her then. Something weighed behind her eyes as a look of thoughtful consideration crossed her features. “Are we talking about you and Rujara?” she asked bluntly. “Is that what I interrupted in the hallway?”

Color rose along Maijah’s cheekbones. “What? Why would you --”

“Seven hells.” Aislinn groaned, tipping her head back. “Can we skip past all the faff where you deny it, I argue, and we waste ten minutes dancing around the truth until eventually you come around and finally tell me what I need to know to help you with…whatever this is?” She said with exasperation. “Let’s pretend we did that.”

Silence.

“Whatever you’re hiding, hide it from the others if you want. I don’t care.” Aislinn said more quietly. “Not from me. Not if you want medical advice. Which I assume you do.”

Maijah sighed. “My use of aether…isn’t something that’s common in Eorzea.” 

Aislinn waited.

“It’s a gift from Golmore.” She continued, voice lowering. “Meant to keep my people prosperous. But when I was taken from the forest…I found another use.” Her hands twisted together, knuckles paling. “I can…compel people through song. I can make them feel anything they wish to feel. Or anything I wish them to feel. I can weave it into them so well they will think the emotion, the feeling, the suggestion, is their own.” 

Aislinn’s expression shifted, curious and calculated. “Bardic magic?”

“Bards can…amplify what is already there.” Maijah allowed with a nod. “And yes, my songweaving is also easier if I am dealing with what is already there but I can, let’s say,  convince a brilliant strategic mind to make enough foolish mistakes that cause him to lose men and resources until he finally gives up on ever taking Golmore. I can do it for cycles. And he will remain so blinded and obsessed with thinking he is in love with me that he never knows I am the fly in the ointment.” 

Aislinn straightened sharply. “Nymeia’s breath.” She hissed out. Aislinn was smart so it didn’t take her long at all to figure out what Maijah had been dreading. “That song you sang for me and Stark Oak. You compelled us to bring you out of that swamp.” Aislinn muttered, rubbing her face. “Gods.”

“You were already halfway there.” Maijah insisted, though she did not deny it.

Aislinn inhaled slowly. “And now?”

“When the group of us set out to save Rujara, he was out of his mind when we found him.” She told Aislinn. “He didn’t know us. Not even Nyscera. He would have killed us without hesitation.” Her voice wavered at the memory. “So I sang. I wove a different reality back into him. But I fear I poured too much of myself into it.” She closed her eyes briefly. “My magic is not stable. Not since I twisted it for so long.”

“And you fear it cost him something now.”

“Yes.” Maijah’s eyes opened, bright with worry. “There are moments I feel his emotions here.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “And I believe it works both ways. Tonight he ran from his quarters because he felt my fear. There is no other explanation.”

Aislinn’s mind flicked briefly to the moment she passed them in the hall. That explained the wet hair and the chocobo pajamas, she wryly realized.

“The way he looks at me.” Maijah glanced away. 

Aislinn waved that aside, almost impatiently. “He’s looked at you that way since before he broke apart. Like an antelope in the path of a runaway train.” Her gaze swept over the statuesque viera pointedly. “You’re the train.”

Maijah stared at her, taken aback.

“It’s a look I recognize.” Aislinn added. “Worn it myself.” The jest faded. “You think you ensnared him like the others.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t know how to unweave it.”

“I can’t. The weave is what restored him. If I undo it --”

“He could fracture again.” Aislinn finished, wincing. “That would be bad.”

She turned to the stove and lifted the copper pot from the flame, setting it aside to cool. Then she moved toward the clinic’s book shelves, fingers skimming well-worn and cracked spines before selecting a particular volume and passing it to Maijah. The viera looked down at the cover. ‘Tethers and Aetheric Bonds.’

“You said you’re linked.” Aislinn explained. “That’s not an injury. Not one Lewra or I could heal anyroads. It’s a connection. You poured so much energy into him your signatures may have threaded together.” A spark of humor lit her eyes. “Oh. Threaded. Weave. See that?”

Maijah did not smile.

Aislinn sobered. “We’ve learned there is more than aether. Dynamis, emotion. I think that’s what you shape the way an arcanist like Lewra and I shape aether. The trouble is, aether and dynamis are often entangled.”

Maijah’s pulse quickened. “What kind of trouble?”

Aislinn tipped her head from side to side as if to say ‘depends’. “It’s not as if I have any case studies I can reference. I’ve never heard of this particular form of it but I have heard of aetheric bonds.” She paused, considering the problem from as many angles as she could. “There are records of the tethered sensing each other’s location. Sharing dreams. Even physical sensation.” She paused. “Hurt one to hurt the other.”

The color drained from Maijah’s face.

“These connections can change with time and distance.” Aislinn added quickly. “And yours is unique. If you can’t undo it, maybe it settles into something manageable. Emotional bleed-through, nothing more.”

Nothing more. As if that wasn't an invasion enough. Maijah stared down at the heavy book in her hands as though it might bite.

“I’ll study it further.” Aislinn said, more gently now. “Try and find something concrete.”

The viera nodded and forced a smile onto her face. “Please. In the meantime, I suppose I have some reading ahead of me.” She dipped her head. “Thank you. For this. I hope the evening is a quiet one for you.” 

She turned away, already opening the book as she stepped out into the dim corridor. Behind her, the fire crackled softly. Gentle Fist snored on. And in the copper pot, the potion cooled. Poison or cure, depending on the hand that wielded it.

[emayuku]

Early Autumn

♪When an early autumn walks the land and chills the breeze And touches with her hand the summer trees Perhaps you'll understand what memories I own There's a dance pavilion, all shuttered down♪

♪A winding country lane, all russet brown A frosty windowpane shows me a town grown lonely That spring of ours that started, so April-hearted Seemed made for just a boy and girl♪

♪I never dreamed, did you, any fall could come in view So early, early Darling, if you care, please let me know I'll meet you anywhere, I miss you so Let's never have to share another early autumn♪

"Early Autumn" as sung in The Red Hot Duchess of Death and Her Butler Joshua Seth

~ * ~ Professor Fay Jaeger enjoy listening her best friend and love interest, Tanjuro Kamado singing when she was still a child.

@funnylittleredhead

@ask-tanjuro-anything

@noisylovepatrol

@nothingtoseehere1-2-3

@staymarus

@silverynightart

@charlottecors

@anime-demon-slayer-kny

@nostromoboy

@brokendeathangel

@2demon2slayer

@demonslayedher

@nothingtoseehere1-2-3

@noisylovepatrol

@almond0moon

@vinjiko-kny

@iwriteloveletters

@reicchel

@crimsonblack2

@miimiishii

@zestygraph1te

@thena0315

@zebekah 

@nobluesea

@erenjaeger112

@roredwarrior3

@a-bichol

@pied-piper-pluto 

@attack-on-titan-confessionss

@ferociousroll

@nraevn

@lapin-l

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@bip-n-bop

@funfairsundaes

@matthew-knyshait @celestica-1988

@femfantransformers @syrusmoonflowermon

[songofthewood]

Storyteller's Songbook

A playlist of songs associated with characters in Maijah's stories

Maijah the Songweaver

Burn Your Village - Kiki Rockwell Everybody Scream - Florence + the Machine You Should See Me in a Crown - Billie Eilish Smile - Maisie When You Say My Name - Chandler Leighton Cravin' - Stileto

The Song

Hum - Ayla Nereo The Seed - Aurora

Maijah

Too Much - Dove Cameron High Priestess - Qveen Herby Beach House - Carly Rae Jepsen Training Season - Dua Lipa

Rujara

Nightfire - Juniper Vale Traveling Heart - Earl Break my Heart - Dua Lipa What ifs - Kane Brown The Magic - Lola Blanc Sun & Moon - Malte Marten

The Legatus

Kiss Me You Animal - Burn the Ballroom Eat Your Young - Hozier Joke's on You - Charlotte Lawrence Labour - Paris Paloma Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

Hlufyur

Figure You Out - Voila Something Blue - Voila Don't Leave Me Here - Thaehan

Brynja

My Blood - Ellie Goulding Bad Idea - Dove Cameron Moral of the Story - Ashe

Brynja, Hlufyur and Rune

Dark Halls - Badtalkers

Ashlid, Iris and Lilja

Die Young - Kesha Dancing in the Moonlight - King Harvest If You go Down - Kelsea Ballerini

[flutemelodies]

SPARKS FLY - TAYLOR SWIFT

[kierongillen]

WicDiv Playlist: A Little Respect

Been a while.

You won't believe the last month, in terms of life, and how much launching a new book which includes as much of you as WicDiv does takes out of you as a human. I normally write five new pages a day minimum, every work day. For the first third of June, I wrote nothing.

As I walked around in this fascinating emotional turmoil, I was writing these essays in my head. When I find a spare thirty minutes, I'd hammer one out. I know them line for line. The Pussycat Dolls Essay. The Belle & Sebastian Essay. The From Her To Eternity essay. The Laura essay that... no, not yet, never quite yet.

I wanted to write them all. I thought I'd fit them in. I didn't.

Never enough time.

Metaphor.

Before writing this, I was reading about some of the continuing fallout around the question of Biphobia at the London Pride, and thinking about bi erasure, and this, being me, this broken creature who is little more of Pavlovian Pop Response, inevitably starts thinking about Erasure.

(The “If only we lived in a world where Bi Erasure was just a covers band” joke made me smirk bitterly throughout the day, amongst everything else.)

So I find myself thinking about A Little Respect, and when Akira The Don SHOUTS THE LYRICS on twitter I realise I can't end the day without hammering down one of my anecdotes.

Always a great record. Found my way into the core me-mythology much later, in that 2000 period where I was just shedding skin from my comics chrysalis and emerging as an ever-hungry creator grub. It's in this period where I wrote my first comics, and that was basically the start of the road that led me to sitting here, writing this, and somehow trying to talk you into reading it.

This isn't about that.

In the same period, I was also in love and heartbroken, and kicking myself over it. It was a literal on-off on-off on-off on-off on-off relationship which would have never have worked, and how it didn't work taught me a lot. But that was down the line, and all that I had was trying to cram the emotions of it all inside a videogame mod I wrote and generally being a walking, snarling Shellac lyric.

In this state, I found myself reviewing Wheatus album for a games magazine. I'm not even sure if I reviewed the album – there were a mass of promos and a mere four albums a month in the column, so I had to select – but it was sent to me. I loved Teenage Dirtbag in paternal pop-punkism (but, please, don't get me to do my whole deconstruction of the song's structure, as it'll make you either want to kill yourself or kill me, and probably the latter) but the only thing which stuck to me was the A Little Respect cover.

It isn't within a million miles of the original, of course, but this is about angles of attack, making you think of things you hadn't thought about in a while.

I played it until I realised I had to add the Erasure best of to the towering piles of CDs by the office PC, resting between Atari Teenage Riot and Angelica.

And then I played that a lot.

A Little Respect is a gay love song of such pain, directness and dignity that I have trouble conceiving how anyone can even imagine anyone remaining a homophobe after listening to it, because surely everyone with a heart in their chest would grasp the fundamental shared humanity in the longing of the relationship and the unfairness of the implicit societal pressure that is keeping them apart? Surely? Surely people can't be that fucking shitty?

There's all sorts of moments to pick over in Bell's performance. You pick a lyric, and it's obvious – the Kings James Bible's phrasing turns centuries of legislated hatred as a weapon against itself, sounding like irrefutable scripture:

“What religion or reason/Could drive a man to forsake his lover”

But throughout, pick it apart, moment for moment, line for line, and it's transcendent stuff.

Plus you can dance to it. With your eyes shut. 

This proves to be relevant before the end of the story.

So, in the middle of this mess I'm going clubbing in London. Ste – the primary influence on Seth Bingo – takes me to perennial gay indie night Pop Starz at the Scala.

(Ste has another memory connected to A Little Respect. During one of his many pop-missionary missions to ATP, he's running karaoke in his chalet. A room full of people singing a Little Respect. Ste in one corner, the gathered horde falling to one knee, shouting in simultaneous, broken, beautiful falsetto “give a little respect--- tooooooo ---- steeeee!” This is entirely irrelevant, but it always makes me smile.)

So, I'm at Pop Starz, and hit the lovelorn melancholic phase around 2am. The I'm-alone-in-crowds stage. The THERE IS NOTHING MELLOW ABOUT MY MELODRAMA stage. If you don't know the Scala, it's one of the multiple rooms venues. We're upstairs in the smaller bar, and I know I have to move elsewhere. I work my way downstairs to the main floor.

A Little Respect drops.

I turn to the dancefloor, and slide into the middle, close my eyes, and lose myself in it.

It's the three minutes and twenty seconds of dancing-as-mass that I only ever sporadically hit. My lips purse lightly along, never wanting to be as crass as mouthing along, but whispering it as the light and flesh and space splay across me. Everything is so sad. Everything is so perfect. I write scenes for that game in my head, with regretful assassins recalling their own doomed loves with doomed people. I pull the trigger, and I find my target.

As the song ends, I leave, heading back the way I came. I know that I have no desire to dance to anything else, perhaps ever again. I'll leave. I'm done.

I push open the double doors.

A song draws to the end. A slight lull. The crowd relaxes. I look for my friends to say goodbye.

An opening bass rumble from hell.

The room of people spasm as one.

I smile and throw myself into the crowd.

“And saying so to some Means nothing; others it leaves Nothing to be said.” - Philip Larkin

[quellochenonriescoadire]

All I need is somebody who really cares.