#also. i’m just partial to people playing guitars or singing it’s my weakness… half of my sketchbook is filled with guitarist characters… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diarrheaofthekeyboard · 4 years

Text

Cheater

9.20.2020

Of the many dumb macho things about guitarists, one of the dumbest is the plurality hatred of capos and alternate tunings. One friend I left behind because he’s a toxic bigoted asshole used to say “gay-po”. Another friend I’m very close with and is a much better musician than I’ll ever be thinks capos and alternate tunings are lazy.

I do understand why people think like this. They’re wrong, but I understand it. For some, like the first guy, it’s just meatheaded stubbornness. “Oh, you’re too weak to play a barre chord higher on the neck so you use a capo to play open chords.” For others, like the second guy, it’s presentation of the instrument “well this is how it’s tuned and so you just work around that and it is what it is.” But that’s not how the guitar developed and it’s certainly not how rock developed or how it’s played.

Yer basic capo is a movable nut. It’s a clamp. That’s it. And yes, you can use it to move open chords up to the key of the song you’re playing and play anything you want incorrectly. However, you can also use it to move the song into the key you’re singing in. So if you want to play Norwegian Wood like it is on Rubber Soul, then you’re stuck with a capo on the 2nd fret, because that’s where it’s played. I might actually take the capo off for that song, because my voice sounds better in D.

One thing I really like to do is play a D major 9 chord in a C shape at the 5th fret. But instead of barring my first finger on the second fret to close the chord, I keep it open so the G and high E strings ring out. 15 years ago, I wrote a song in a post-punk band that sounded best in G. So I capo’d at the 3rd fret. And I’d slide that C shape to go from Eb major to F maj 9. It’s a cool sound and fills out the space, which is important in a guitar-bass-drums-singer kinda band.

The band kept playing the song after I left, largely out of anxiety fueled rage/assholishness, that likely had little to do with the people in the band. Anyway, there were two guitarists they played with afterwards that could never play it right. Because they wouldn’t use a capo. One guy said the chord was wrong because it “went against music theory”. I got that hilarious story from the bassist. The other guy played everything as power chords. So of course, when we had a reunion, I dedicated the song to all the guitarists that had been in the band, and couldn’t play it. (Hey, I’ve never claimed through any of this I’m not an asshole.)

Sometimes I use capos just to find the right tonality. Maybe a song sounds better capod on the 4th fret? Who knows? Let’s figure it out. They’re really great writing tools.

Another great writing tool is alternate tunings. Like with capos, people don’t like them because they think it’s the easy way out. Tune your low E string down to D and “play one finger slam chords”. That was a fun argument on guitar forums. Or, keep going. Tune the A string down to G and the high E string down to D, and you’re in Open G. Now you can play 20 Rolling Stones tunes that just don’t sound right in standard tuning. Yeah, you could play in standard tuning and only play the inside three strings, but that’s actually the cheater method that doesn’t sound right. You can also play slide. One of my favorite open tunings is Open C. CGCGCE. It’s super heavy and puts the third on the high E string, so it retains a brightness I like.

Lately, I’ve been playing a lot in Dropped D. On Norwegian Wood, it opens up the droning ringiness of the guitar, which is something I like playing solo acoustic. That tends to translate into the electric bands I’m in because I’m usually the only guitarist. I can always modify it if I need to.

A couple of weeks ago, I was focused on learning “Black Hole Sun” by Soundgarden. That song was recorded in Dropped D#. So the whole guitar was tuned up a half step, and then the sixth string tuned down a step. Super weird. Now I can either completely retune my guitar or I can tune to Dropped D and stick a capo on the first fret. So I did that because there’s no actual difference except the fretmarkers are off, and you’re not supposed to rely on those either. Anyway, it’s a really great song not only for learning about Dropped D, but also the descending riff chromaticism is amazing. And it’s the perfect example of capos and alternate tunings working together.

Now I told you that story to tell you this one.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve been watching a lot of the MusicTheoryforGuitar channel on YouTube. It’s this funny metal guy named Tommaso who’s mostly pimping his own method. I’m not interested in his guitar method because I certainly have enough of them rotting on my shelves. But I like his videos. The last one I watched was about the musicality of one note. It’s a simple idea. A C note in a C chord is the root. So it’s not going to have the same quality as the same C note as the major third in an G# major or the minor third in A minor. Cool stuff. Now how can I use it?

I wrote this riff I liked based on the video. I wrote down all the chords in the video and messed with them until I got something I liked. But trying to get everything to sound right with the droned C got complicated. I was playing chords on both the 5th and 6th string, and once I moved the C drone, it just didn’t sound cohesive. So I had an idea. Tune the B string up to C. That worked for a moment but made things complicated when I wanted to keep the drone on the 6th string A minor chord.

Then I remembered about my partial capo. I dunno when I got it. At least 10 years ago. Maybe longer. It’s called the Third Hand capo and appears to have been discontinued a few years ago. This one is different from “short-cut” capos because you can choose which strings you want to capo, instead of it just being a flat bar. The only thing on the market now that’s similar is the SpiderCapo, but I’ve never used it. Looks like if I ever lose this one that’s the one to get. Anyway, I got the idea to capo the C I’ve been droning, which is on the first fret of the B string. But that presented a problem for my F chord, because you can’t finger a note you’re not having the Third Hand press down on. So I dropped down to D and the F moved up. This also allowed me to consistently voice the other chords in the progression. So now I’ve got an alternate tuning and a weird capo and the song can’t be played without them.

That’s not cheating. That’s art. Now maybe I can write some lyrics that don’t suck. LOL.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Hey! I saw your answer to anon about musician Killian and of course had to go reread it. And if I may be so bold, may I request the Mystery Musical Man from Killians point of view?

Of course you can request it from Killian’s POV! It made for an easy prompt request to fill. lol. 💙

Original Prompt: CS fic where someone walks by a street musician every day in her way to work and she always bring him coffe and something to eat because she thinks he’s poor and could use some help, but actually he’s like a super star and just plays in the street for fun?

Part one: Mystery Musical Man

-/-

The first time she places a cup of coffee at his feet and a five dollar bill in his guitar case, he nearly stops singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and asks her for her name, but he doesn’t, the music continuing to roll off of his tongue and his fingers as she walks away, her golden hair falling down her back and nearly reaching the top of her black pencil skirt. He’s noticed her before. She walks this route nearly every day, and she usually comes by when the streets are pretty empty. It’s the same reason that he plays early in the morning on Murray Hill. It’s New York City so it’s crowded, but it’s not a madhouse.

Or maybe it is, and he’s got no clue since he’s distracted by the blonde woman who walks by him five days a week. She’s usually dressed professionally, modest skirts and pants with blouses, and if he had to guess, the sneakers on her feet are only for her walk to work and not what she wears all day. He’s got no bloody clue what it is that she does for a living, but he’s curious about her.

He stays curious about her as the weeks pass by and she continuously brings him cups of coffee from The Bean. It’s always black, and even though he usually likes a little milk in his coffee, he learns to accept it with a kind smile and nothing else. Many times he almost talks to her, asks her for her name, but despite the fact that words are constantly flowing out of his mouth as he sings, the words are never the ones that he wants to say.

“What’s your name?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Why do you buy me coffee every day?”

He wants to ask that last question even though he knows the answer. She thinks he’s a struggling musician playing on street corners for tips, and while he is a musician playing on a street corner, he’s not struggling nor truly asking for tips. It’s been years since he had to do that, but he remembers the struggle of needing to supplement his income and get a little extra cash on the side. He honestly didn’t think he looked too poor off, but he does usually walk here from his apartment and wear torn jeans and a battered Yankees cap. Maybe he should dress a little more nicely, but then again, then the beautiful lass might not buy him coffee anymore.

He swears that one day he’ll talk to her.

She is his muse after all.

-/-

“We want you to do a concert,” Arthur tells him as he sits in his recording label’s office in Los Angeles with Will, Robin, and Anton sitting in the chairs next to him.

“We don’t have any new music,” Robin points out, leaning forward in his chair. “Why would we do a concert without any music?”

“You have new music,” Arthur sighs as he takes a sip of his tea from behind his desk, a view of the ocean behind him. “You’ve got enough for half of a set, which will be a perfect preview of the album for when Killian finishes writing it, and then you can mix in old favorites. This will keep you all relevant.”

He chuckles a little bit at that, but he always does whenever he has to talk business. He plays guitar and sings songs and writes lyrics because he enjoys it. Yes, the success and adrenaline of playing in front of thousands of people is wonderful and he wouldn’t trade it in, but at the end of the day, none of that matters if he’s not enjoying making music. That’s what it’s always been about. His mum taught him to play the piano and his brother taught him to play the guitar, and he never feels closer to them than when he’s playing. Really, he never feels closer to them than when he’s standing on the street singing songs form decades past because they’re the songs his mum always had on in the house whenever she would cook or do laundry to make it all a little more exciting.

His mother used to always be dancing with this beatific smile on her face and laughter on her lips, and he likes to remember her that way instead of weak and pale in a hospital bed. It’s the same with Liam. Killian likes to remember him refusing to dance with their mum, too old and too proud, before eventually giving in and dancing. It’s easier than remembering the knock that came to his apartment door with two Naval officers standing outside.

It’s happier too.

Music has always been his safe haven. It’s how he’s processed things, how he’s fallen in love and how he’s healed from broken hearts. It allows him to put his thoughts and feelings into a set of lyrics that go along with a melody, and maybe, just maybe, it makes all of that heartache feel a little further from home while still keeping it close where only he knows every meaning behind each word and note in a song.

Having the White Sails take off and be successful has been amazing, more than he could have ever dreamed of, but as Arthur asks them to play some of his new songs to a crowd full of people, all he really wants to do is play them on the sidewalk and have the pretty lass with green eyes and a beautiful smile hear him sing.

He’s rather fascinated with her and the coffee she always brings him, and most of the songs he’s written in the past few months have been partially written about her. A part of him wonders if she listens to much music as she has never recognized his face or his voice, but he’s not conceited enough to think that everyone on the street should know who he is. He likes the anonymity.

Just maybe not with her.

“We don’t need to be kept bloody relevant,” Will groans, his accent coming out a little stronger than before. “We are relevant. I haven’t worked my arse off for – ”

“Where and when?” he interrupts, an idea sparking in his mind.

“What now?”

“Where and when do you want us to do the concert? If we’re going to play some of the new songs, I need to fine tune them, and I’ll need a couple of weeks for that.”

Arthur smiles, and it’s the one Killian recognizes as it meaning something big.

“Two months from today in Madison Square Garden. Our marketing team is ready to drop both promotion and ticket sales tonight.”

“Do it.”

He spends the next twelve days in the recording studio trying to fix his songs and make them perfect. They won’t be. They’ll still need some work before they officially go on the album, but he thinks he likes them for now. He also thinks that he likes the tune that he can’t get out of his head about the woman with emerald eyes and hair that shines in the morning light, and he makes a promise to himself to actually speak to her when he returns home.

-/-

The morning after he gets back to New York, he takes his guitar and walks then ten blocks to his usual spot, deciding that today is a Queen day, and sings acoustic versions of most of their hits. He’s in the middle of We Are the Champions when he sees her. She’s got headphones in and only one cup of coffee in her hand. He didn’t tell her that he’d be gone for weeks, but honestly, he didn’t really know that he would be. It was only supposed to be a weekend. Besides, they don’t know each other. Just because they have this routine doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

She stops to watch him play, and there’s barely another soul around as he finishes out the song, letting the music die as his fingers stop moving.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her voice a pitch lower than he thought it would be. He likes it.

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked at her speaking, before he flashes her a smile and looks down at her coffee mug before looking back up to those emerald eyes with a smirk painted on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

She shrugs, and he has to stifle his laugh. He can’t believe they’re finally speaking after dancing around each other for months. Or really, singing around each other. There has been no dancing involved. He bets she’d be a good dancer.

“I guess so. I didn’t – I stopped buying your coffee. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. I wasn’t around. Wouldn’t want you to waste your money, but I did miss you and your coffee.”

He obviously doesn’t have a filter, but he’s somehow comfortable talking to her.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he sighs, encouraged by the little spark of excitement in her eyes. “They don’t make black coffee in LA, and they don’t have pretty lasses bring it to you.”

It’s been a solid year since he flirted with a woman, but he thinks he’s doing alright. Because that is what he’s doing. Flirting. He’s missed it.

“What a pity,” she mumbles, her cheeks flushed red even as he can tell that she’s downplaying her reaction. “I wonder how you survived.”

She’s got spunk. He likes her.

(Spunk? Does he suddenly live in the 1950’s?)

“The hardest few weeks of my life honestly. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and if he could turn that into a melody to have forever, he would. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to make her laugh again.

Hopefully this conversation isn’t a one-time thing.

It’s not.

The next day she brings him his coffee, and they chat for a little while, stumbling into the fact that they both enjoy comedies more than any other genre of television, though he does love a good historical drama every now and then. But she’s a fan of shows like The Office and The Good Place, so they talk about last week’s episode before she has to go to work. It goes like that for a few more days, and in those days he learns that her favorite food is a grilled cheese hold all of the fancy toppings and that she runs every other day after work. If she doesn’t, she’ll apparently go crazy. He gets that. She obviously sits at a desk most of the day, and he would go crazy staying still for that long.

It’s a Tuesday when he finally learns her name. He’s between songs, his throat a little scratchy, when she shows up, so instead of placing his coffee on the ground like she usually does, she hands it to him.

“Thank you, love.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she mumbles before bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes darting anywhere but to him. He takes a sip of his coffee, the liquid warm and soothing on the way down, and just before he finishes swallowing, she blurts out, “what’s your name?”

It takes him back a bit, but mostly all he can think is finally.

“Killian,” he answers, flashing her a smile. “And you?”

“Do you not have a last name?”

He thinks on it a minute, debating whether or not he wants to tell her his last name. He doesn’t think she knows who he is, or maybe she does and doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t want this little routine between them to change. He comes out here in the mornings for himself, but he would be remiss to think that he didn’t also make his way here to the same spot every morning to see her.

“I do,” he slowly begins, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

“I care. I’m Emma Swan if that helps.”

Emma Swan.

He likes it. God help him he thinks he might like her.

Is thirty four too old to have a crush?

“Jones then. Killian Jones.”

Her lips twitch, threatening to pull up into a smile, and he already knows that he’s got a smile painted on his lips. “Did you phrase it that way so you could say your name like James Bond?”

He winks. “I guess you’ll never know.”

They continue on as usual, getting to know each other over their ten minute chats every weekday. She brings him his coffee, he calls her Swan, and on the days when he’s in the middle of a song when she walks up, he changes the lyrics to her name to make her smile. It works every single time, and no part of him cares that it’s a little cheesy.

He’s a little cheesy when he’s tired. They’ve been having rehearsals during the day and during some nights, and it’s exhausting. It’s been awhile since they’ve played outside of a recording studio or one of their living rooms, so it’s a bit frustrating for them not to be perfectly in sync. It’s just one night, though, one show, and as time nears for it, he finally starts to feel like they’re getting ready.

But in the mornings he desperately needs his coffee from Emma, the family lawyer (how badass is that?) who still doesn’t seem to believe him when he tells her that he’s a musician.

So one morning, a week before the concert, when there’s a practical monsoon taking over Manhattan, instead of staying in his apartment, he makes his way to the closest The Bean shop in hopes that he can see Emma. It might be taking it a step too far, but honestly, it’s not the craziest thing he’s ever done for a woman.

He sees her when she walks in, her red rain coat dripping with water, and he tugs at his beanie while she talks to the barista who points over at him. Emma’s head twists to look in his direction, and she stalks her way over to him, plopping down in the chair across from him.

“So you stalking me now?” she laughs as her eyes come into contact with his. “Because I’ve got to say, I’m not sure the coffee I bring you every morning is worth all of the hassle.”

He gives her a lopsided grin, knowing that it’s charming, and reaches up to scratch at his ear, adjusting his beaning again. “I’m not stalking you. I, well, I can’t perform in all of this rain, and I still needed my coffee fix.”

“How’d you even figure out it was this store? You know this is a chain, right?”

He shrugs. “Google, some powers of deduction, and a whole lot of luck.”

“Well color me impressed mystery musical man.”

What in the world did she just call him? Mystery musical man?

He can’t help but laugh, and it ends up being louder than he expected, making several people stare at him. His ears are suddenly far too hot under this beanie.

He’s not alone, though. He can see the blush on Emma’s cheeks. “Um, nothing.”

“No, no,” he teases, leaning forward on the table and waggling his brows while flashing her another smile, completely amused and besotted by this entire situation. Man is he glad that she’s not mad that he showed up here. “You called me mystery musical man. Swan, I didn’t know you had a nickname for me.”

“Yeah, well, I went a few months not knowing who you were. What was I supposed to do?”

“Ask me my name.”

“I did…eventually.” He shakes his head from side to side as he smiles, remembering to slide her coffee cup over to her. “So, um, can I ask you a question? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, love, but I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t tell you unless you’re about to ask me some deep, personal secret like if I’ve ever dyed my hair.”

She snorts into her drink. That’s not quite as melodic as her laugh, but he likes it just the same. “No, no. I’d never ask such a deeply personal question, but I do, um, what the hell is it that you do for a living?”

His brows furrow as he clicks his tongue. Wow, she really doesn’t believe him. “Didn’t we talk about this already? I’m a musician.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but do you do anything else besides performing before eight in the morning? I know this is rude, but I’m just…curious.”

“Tis not rude,” he admits, hoping to calm her. She doesn’t need to feel awkward around him. He hopes that she doesn’t, that they’re friends, that they have…potential. “What someone does for a living is basic conversation. But seriously, no. I’m a musician, and I do play more than the mornings. That’s honestly just for fun.”

“So where do you play? I’d love to come see you.” He raises his brows, curling the right side of his lips into a smirk and closing his eyes halfway as he stares at her, trying to get her to blush like she was earlier. “To see you play,” she clarifies, hiding behind her mug. “I’d love to see you play.”

She’s adorable, and he’s utterly, officially charmed.

“I know what you mean, love. I, um,” he hesitates, knowing that what he’s about to tell her could change their relationship but wanting to tell her anyhow, “I haven’t had many gigs lately, but I am playing on Friday night if you’d like to come.”

“Really?” she asks excitedly. “Where?”

He clenches his teeth down and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say to keep some of the mystery alive so she’ll be more likely to show up to the show. He is mystery musical man after all.

“Tell you what, love, I’m going to get you some tickets for you and a friend, and the address will be on them. Does that work for you?”

“It makes you seem like the definition of mystery musical man.”

“Yeah, well, that’s apparently who I am.”

They chat for a little while longer before he walks with her to work, holding his umbrella over both of their heads, and when he realizes that she’s not sure how to say goodbye, he boldly leans down and brushes a kiss against her cheek that he swears lights his entire body aflame.

-/-

Adrenaline runs through him for all of Friday. He’s nervous. He’s a professional, and he’s so damn nervous that he might vomit as he paces back and forth in their dressing room after sound check. He’s not sure if it’s the combination of pre-show jitters and showcasing new songs or if it has to do with him wondering whether or not Emma is going to show up tonight. It’ll be fine if she doesn’t. Really, it will.

But he wants her here.

He’s got feelings for the woman, and he’d like for her to know what it really is that he does, no more vague secrets.

“How much coffee did you drink, Jones?” Will chuckles, calmly propping his feet on a coffee table and taking a sip of his water. “You’re vibrating.”

“No coffee. I’m tired.”

“He invited a lass,” Robin not so helpfully supplies.

“I should have never told you, you arse.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have known how to get her tickets.”

He rolls his eyes and keeps pacing. This is all going to be just fine. It has to be. The show will be fine, great probably. Two songs in, and he’ll be back to his normal self on stage.

And it’ll be a damn good time.

And Emma will be here.

“Hello, everybody,” he says into the microphone when they’re finally on stage minutes later, lights blaring down on him and the audience talking under a loud murmur as he takes several deep breaths and plasters a smile on his face. “I’m so glad you all can be here tonight. I know it’s been awhile since we performed, but it took a bit to get some inspiration for our new songs, though I finally found some lately. So I thank you for being patient with us. I’m Killian Jones, and we are The White Sails.”

-/-

After the concert he’s on a high that he hasn’t felt for a long time, his body practically buzzing with excitement and a little bit of the rum he drank before the show. It went well, the new songs getting a good reaction, but now that he’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and has had time to digest all of that, all he can think about is the fact that Emma bloody Swan is waiting outside in the hallway for him.

His mates are going to tease him about this for a solid month.

It’ll be worth it.

He steps out of the dressing room, his hand already at his ear with nerves, and walks right toward Emma and who he assumes is her friend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t buy you coffee,” she blurts out before her eyes widen, the mortification practically broadcasted on her face.

He shrugs and laughs, unable to help himself. “That’s okay, love. I think maybe you can have a pass this time.” He leans forward and wraps his arms around her, embracing her and hoping that he doesn’t smell too much like sweat when he hasn’t taken a shower. Emma smells like vanilla. He’s never noticed that before. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers as she pulls back, “that was incredible. You’re incredible. I’m just entirely confused.” He expected that and is about to address it when the woman next to Emma coughs, and they both turn to look at her. “And this is Ruby Lucas,” Emma tells him.

“Nice to meet you, mystery musical man. I came with to make sure my girl wasn’t going to get murdered tonight.”

“Totally understandable,” he laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand. He forgot to take off his rings from the show, and he feels them against her skin. “That’s why there were two tickets. To prevent the murder, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma interrupts, and his attention turns back to her, “I just have a lot of questions.”

“Well Swan, maybe I have some answers. Do you – ” Arthur calls his name behind him, and he twists to look at him to see him motioning his hand. “ – can you and Ruby wait here while I do a bit of quick business?”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

He jogs off to talk to Arthur, hopefully telling him that this won’t take long because he’d rather be talking to Emma than to Arthur about what he’s sure is some deadline for the new album.

“Great show, Jones,” he greets, clapping his hand and pulling him in for a hug and patting his back.

“Thank you. It went better than I thought it would.”

“It always does. The new songs were great. The label loves them. We ended up sold out on tickets and merch tonight. That was what was unexpected. Not the show going well but us having an audience.”

“Quite a lot of faith you’re putting in me there.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, always the realist. “You know what I mean. I just wanted to let you know that and that we have a meeting with the label tomorrow.”

“God, please tell me that it’s in the New York office. I’m not flying cross country tomorrow.”

“It’s in the New York office,” he sighs, smiling a little bit. “At one. Make sure Will shows up.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, go back to talk to your girl.”

He almost protests, but instead he winks at Arthur and starts making his way back to Emma who is probably going crazy with thoughts right now. She gets up to greet him, and before he can even open his mouth to apologize for leaving, she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, her lips soft against his. It takes him far too long to kiss back, the moment shocking him, but when he does, he tries to keep it soft and slow, treating her with all of the care she deserves instead of pushing her back up against the wall and devouring her. Though, now that he knows how Emma kisses, he wants to do that too. His lips caress hers and his hands reach up to cup her cheeks before threading into her hair while hers does the same, another pleasant buzz spreading across his skin.

He absolutely cannot believe that he’s kissing Emma Swan.

Drinking all of that black coffee without creamer was totally worth it.

When she pulls back, he growls, not able to stop himself as he chases her lips and rests his forehead against hers, breathing in even though he knows that she’s taken his breath away.

Maybe he gets a little cheesy all of the time.

“So the whole being in a band thing really did it for you, huh?”

“No,” she promises, quickly brushing her lips against his again while her fingers keep playing with his hair. He’d like to keep doing that for a long time. “I don’t care about that. It’s awesome, but I don’t care.”

“Yeah?” he asks, all of his nerves over the whole thing beginning to fade away. Maybe this will all work out.

“Yeah. All I really want is to buy you a coffee.”

He laughs against her lips, unable to help himself. Tonight is a good night.

Tonight is a damn great night.

“You know what, Swan? I think I can buy this time.”

He and Emma get coffee two days later. He buys despite her protests, and it goes on like that for days and weeks and months as coffee dates turn into actual dates and dates turn into overnight stays and overnight stays turn into moving in together. Eventually moving in together turns into getting married, and all along the way he writes far more songs than he thinks he has in his entire life, filling albums with his love.

Emma Jones is a fantastic muse.

#mystery musical man #cs fic #cs ff #cs prompts

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conoscenze · 7 years

Text

religion.

Thought this could be an interesting topic to write out, considering the variety of religions I have in my group of muses. Personally, I think it’s a very subjective topic, a personal thing, one I wouldn’t necessarily insert into the role playing context---but since I love being realistic, and since people having an opinion / a belief in something & anything is real, I’m going to do it anyways. It adds more backstory, and could even be of use for the development, so why not?

Salice is atheist, and was previously Christian, despite... everything. Her unaware [of her being a necromancer] peers defined magic and everything related to it as satanic and “the devil’s” work, and even then, Salice was untouched by their opinions, not caring about the elders and youngsters judging her for being publicly part of Le Sorelle Magre’s small club. She practiced Christian prayers and rituals, like she celebrated those religion’s holidays because she felt Christian, and because she believed in the thought and the ideals more than in the cult. Salice never went to church because she felt like it, though. It was more so due to her mother, and she complied since she saw it as a simple and innocent act. She was most definitely Christian even though she thought of Protestant ideals are more fit for her belief. Then, at one point, it simply broke. Her faith broke and she stopped believing, like how she stopped believing in Santa as a child. This happened when she was about 20, while she was studying at law school during her first year in England, and it was a rough time. Rough enough for her to stop both caring and believing. She is an atheist without remorse or hatred, but simply conscious that religion is a man made construct she ended up partaking in due to her environment. She doesn’t think of her time in church as wasted, but she does wish she’d been dragged into the events less. In short, her being an atheist has no relation with her being a necromancer. To this day, she is still fascinated by churches (mostly for the aesthetics and architecture) and religious roles such as nuns, monks and priests.

Adona, on the other hand, has a less complicated story than Salice when it comes to religion. She is atheist, and she considers herself to have always been one, since her lack of interest towards religion, praying and in general towards “God”. While she doesn’t exactly resent Catholicism, Christianity, etcetera, she bitterly talks about it when prompted, as she considers it the cause of major wars and social belief which she clashes with hardly. Her being an atheist relates to being a witch, differently from Salice, because it always felt wrong for her to believe in a made-up ominscent character whereas her nature goes typically against this concept. For her it’s fake and deceitful.

Phoebe is religious, and is a catholic protestant, unlike most of her peers, who are orthodox (the most common religion in Russia). As much as she does believe in God and as much as she does visit church often, she is not a fanatic, nor does she rely her faith uniquely in God and religion. She is still a woman that agrees with and studies the laws of science: she is clearly aware that God may be real and the creator, but not to an indefinite extent. However, some of her beliefs are influenced by her religion, even though they’re mostly imposed on her by her grandmother (whom is the very definition of an zealous religious old lady). Phoebe is kind of weak when it comes to handling her grandmother, so she will gladly believe whatever she tells and claims is true. Hell, this old lady managed to convince her that she could be a stalking victim in any case---she can basically say anything to Phoebe and she wouldn’t even complain nor mutter a “but”. To be ironic. Phoebe’s God is not God itself---for her, it’s her grandmother.

Karmina is christian-orthodox, but there’s not much to say about this one. She defines herself as a believer, but it’s just something she convinced herself she is, while she’s factually not. Karmina doesn’t know what lies after death---she probably will never know, considering she is immortal---and even then, she doesn’t put her faith in heaven, nor in hell, and even less in God. For her, religion is yet another human construct created by individuals who wanted to get an easy answer for the most complicated [philosophical] questions, and she doesn’t want to waste her time in following them in this act. However, she does attend church, from time to time, out of habit. She also knows by memory most prayers and rituals, due to the fact that she has been adopted by rich families most of her life, and along with this she had to attend religious matters. Per se, Karmina considers religion a controversial thing, that is in no way useful nor particularily good for humankind’s lives. At the same time, she’s conscious that most art wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for religion.

Kaede is Shintoist, but not practicing. Having lived through terrible, really terrible moments and habitats, most of her friends always assume she’d be an atheist, or that she’d hate God. Quite unexpectedly, she doesn’t. Kaede does believe in God (in this case Kami-sama), although it’s no extraordinary belief of any kind. She just hasn’t found a reason to not believe. Kaede doesn’t often visit temples, and if she does it’s not to pray, but there are a few occasions in which she gives in because of traditions that she can’t ignore, such as New Year’s.

Fujunko, as stated in her bio, is questioning, but probably leaning towards agnostic rather than Shintoist. This just means that she believes in the existence of a superior entity, and will keep believing with uncertainty. If someone manages to confirm the entity’s existence, she will believe its presence, and if they confirm their nonexistence, she will go along with that. She is a shuffler, and frankly enough, it’s the last of her worries. Her family is generally not religious due to the fact that her mother is way more dedicated to her job, like her grandma to her cooking and bonsai, and she herself to guitar playing.

Min-Seo is an atheist. Yet again, there isn’t much to say except that her family has always been thoroughly materialistic rather than spiritual: her father is a music producer, her mother an excellent university professor. They both spend their days working on objectivity---and they have been doing so ever since Min-Seo has been born. Though she does sometimes call out to “God”, she doesn’t do it faithfully, but merely as a way to pretend that someone from above might be watching.

Marzanna is a complicated case. She doesn’t put faith in religion: she is part of religion. As she is a goddess, she doesn’t follow any belief, although she does greatly respect Perun, who is the most powerful deity in the Slavic pantheon and her father. She doesn’t thrive off her own belief. She thrives off on the people’s faith in her existence, which is, alas, very little as of today. When asked she will usually tell people that she is agnostic, since it’s a great and convenient cover-up and excuse in her own belief.

Annaliese, being a nun, obviously is a follower of the word of God. Though she isn’t a fierce believer, Annaliese is faithful. Her choice to become a nun wasn’t entirely half-assed; she did it principally because of her vocation, and partially for convenience. Other than that, anyone who questions her faith is undoubtedly regarded negatively by her part. She might have peculiar interests and preferences, but her belief in God must remain undisputed. Ever since early childhood, beyond her interests in witchcraft and demonology, she has always been convinced that God is real and that it’s up there---her view of it is just a little more personal, so to speak. She considers God as an entity (not specifically male, even if scriptures refer to it as such most of the time) that, among benevolence and good intentions, is also somewhat of a trickster that likes playing with its human children and the various creatures that populate the Earth. Some may say that she has an archetypal view of God, as she often refers to it as an “incredibly powerful human inhuman being”. No wonder about this: she has always been a fan of religions’ mythologies, more specifically ones that tend to give humanity to deities (such as Greek and Egyptian mythology).

Momoko is now an atheist, though she cannot deny that in her childhood she was more or less “Christian”. Though not exactly passionate, her mother often called out to God and often spoke prayers (especially during difficult days and times), and she as well encouraged her children to take part in her faith. Momoko, Akio and Sachiko would be best described as “reluctant, non-practicing Christians”. After a certain string of events, however, Momoko entirely dropped the little belief that she had to directly agree with the fact that God is simply not real, and that singing him a little song or reading him a humble poem won’t change a single thing. She believes in the concepts of fate and doom more, but only to a point. She is mostly convinced that life consists of causalities, and that things such as karma are bullshit.

#ive had this in m y drafts for d AYS #salice || disclosed information.#phoebe || disclosed information.#adona || disclosed information.#kaede || disclosed information.#karmina || disclosed information.#fujunko || disclosed information.#outta violence || ooc.#min seo || disclosed information.#marzanna || disclosed information.#annaliese || disclosed information.#momoko || disclosed information.

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