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seeds-and-sins · 3 days

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Light My Fire - Part Eight

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, minor references to sex, WARNING: talks about death and self-harm)

Description: Phoenix tries to rectify the missing pieces within herself, but she struggles to figure out how.

Tagged: @tonixe@chernayawidow , @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie@virgoelf-blog , @my-obsession-spn, @capricxnt @demodemo909 @boywivlove

Song: Gypsy - Fleetwood Mac

"FUCK!" Homelander yelled, the tv remote broke in his closed fist. One of the flat screen televisions in the meeting room was set to channel 8 and Starlight was all over the news. Her little video had gone viral, her resignation given, Homelander thrown under the bus, this was all out war. Homelander was fuming, Ashley was gnawing her nails down to the skin, the Deep was posted at one of the chairs around the table, Agnes was sitting a few seats down from him sipping on a cup of coffee.

And you were standing there, arms crossed, staring blankly at the screen.

You were so tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained from everything. Just from living really.

When was the last time you slept again?

"Okay!" Ashley squealed, "We'll fix this. We'll fix this. Please. Oh my god! Fuck!" Your eyes slid shut, her panicking died in your ears, the world silenced for a moment.

"Phoenix!" Your eyes shot open, Homelander was staring at you with a look of desperation plastered on his face. "What do we do?" Your hands tightened around your biceps and your teeth dug into your bottom lip. What do we do? More importantly, what should be done?

"We don't have time to worry about Starlight." Your voice came out hoarse, in a low whisper. The room fell quiet. "She has a loyal fan base, but they aren't as loyal as our people. I wouldn't worry about her." Homelander nodded virgorously, licking his lips. The desperation in his boyish eyes faded and what replaced it was a sharp coldness.

"You're right. We've got to find Soldier Boy."

"But we need to make a statement!" Ashley's shrill made you roll your eyes.

"Go take a fuckin' Xanax, Ashley!" You commanded, holding up an admonishing finger. Ashley's lips shut with a resounding pop and she straightened, fear crawled up her spine and glued her to the floor. "I'll talk. I know how to charm a crowd. It'll put this off until we can get shit under control." Your command came out more as a question, Homelander's jaw flicked from side to side before he nodded. "Come on Agnes." The older woman rose from the table without protest, following after your quick strides with a waddle of her own.

...

"Good Evening!" You crowned your fingers and propped them up on the podium. "I appreciate you all being here for this impromptu press conference. Given the situation, I'm sure you know there are a few things that Vought needs to address."

"Where's Homelander?" A journalist shouted from the crowd, flapping his hand above the sea of heads to get Phoenix's attention.

"Homelander is off handling more important matters." The crowd broke out in shouted questions and mixed words, journalists reaching over eachother as they attempted to flag you down. You begrudgingly pointed at a woman in the front row.

"Isn't this important? Starlight has resigned? What is the future of the Seven? Why are you up there when you're not even on the team?" It went silent as everyone waited for a response, or rather, a staccato of responses to answer a staccato of questions. You paused, thought about the significance of your next words, what they would mean. You found a camera and stared into it.

"I want to make myself very clear..." Your voice penetrated the air, the room was thick with the tone that every syllable carried. "Starlight isn't a priority. Everyday Homelander, I, and many other heroes are trying to keep you all safe. We fought overseas so that the super villain threat could be contained. I underestimated the enemy and now the super villain threat is here. Us heroes need to be doing our jobs, not starting petty battles over social media. If Starlight wants to play her games and spread her lies, slander us, she is welcome to do so. But Homelander and I are going to focus on what is important: your safety, your lives."

An intense stillness blanketed the crowd, a few camera flashes. One journalist had the gull to raise their hand, when no one else would, not after a speech like that.

"What are your thoughts on the deathes of the TNT twins? Your former colleagues?"

Good. I'm glad they're dead.

"And your friend? Crimson Countess?" Your head tilted to the other voice, you swallowed and looked down at your fingers.

"Countess wasn't my friend, and neither were the Twins." You shook your head. "Not anymore at least. Not when they turned their backs on..." You paused. Me. -- Ben. "On you. The people. Some of the strongest heroes I knew for their time, and only Noir and I remain. The others worried about their luxury condos, their ratings, movie deals, royalties. None of them cared about what really matters. I don't mourn them. I don't think I ever will."

"But what of Soldier Boy? You were there when he died, did you mourn him?"

"I-" You had to take a deep breath, the emotions that swelled in you had nearly knocked you off your feet. You cleared your throat and held back tears. "I did. I do."

Soldier Boy was still dead to you.

"Soldier Boy died so that all of us could live."

...

🎶 So I'm back to the velvet underground. 🎶

🎶 Back to the floor that I love... 🎶

Three Xanax, two blunts-going on three-and half a bottle of whiskey later, you found yourself laying on your bed in a mess of comforter and pillows. Your suit was discarded somewhere, leaving you down to nothing but your underwear. And you were just laying there, staring up at the ceiling as you smoked from a blunt and sipped from a bronze filled glass. Your record player sung in the background, mellowing out your already distant mood.

🎶 To a room with some lace and paper flowers 🎶

🎶 Back to the gypsy that I was 🎶

🎶 To the gypsy that I was... 🎶

What did you have?

John?

He kept you around as an extension of himself rather than as someone he cared for. You were the arms of his authority, fingers curled around your enemies with a vice grip. In reverse, he was a reflection of you in many ways, uncaring, erratic, impulsive. You knew he didn't care about you. Not truly. You weren't sure he was capable of it. Maybe with some admiration, some approval, but love was a distant thought in John's head. He only ever craved it from others. And you were more than able to provide in the past, giving pieces of yourself to John without a second thought. Now you had no more pieces left to give.

🎶 And it all comes down to you. 🎶

🎶 And you know that it does when. 🎶

🎶 Lightening strikes maybe once maybe twice. 🎶

Your fans?

You would rather burn them all alive, throw them in a furnace and walk away. They didn't love you. They loved the image of yourself that you fronted, but they didn't know you.

🎶 Oh and it lights up the night. 🎶

🎶 And you see your gypsy (ohh, ohh) 🎶

🎶 You see your gypsy. 🎶

You?

That was all you had. Herodom was a quiet life, a lonely one. But it was never about saving people or doing some good in the world. As much as Starlight thought she was making a difference, the world would never change. There would always be criminals. There would always be greedy politicans and corrupt agents of the law. The world was cold and callous and it never retreated.

And you had nothing.

You were a victim of the chaos. Vought took you in, molded you into something vile and morbid, tossed you around in a bag of salt, and hurled you into the world for their own profit.

You were an experiment.

Your lips wrapped around the end of your blunt and you took a drag. Smoke flowed from your nostrils, it floated up toward the high ceiling and you watched it swirl until it faded completely.

Your head drooped to the side and your face wrinkled as if you were about to cry, before you suppressed that urge.

🎶 To the gypsy that remains. 🎶

🎶 Faces freedom, with a little fear. 🎶

🎶 I have no fear, and have only love. 🎶

🎶 And if I was a child and the child was enough. 🎶

🎶 Enough for me to love. 🎶

🎶 Enough to love. 🎶

Through a blurry haze, your half lidded eyes spotted a figure at the open double doors leading into your bedroom. You shifted a little, squinted, then slowly sat upright.

"Ben?"

He was dressed in his full suit, arms straight at his sides.

"Hello, hot stuff." He answered casually, stepping closer. He sent you a boyish smile that reminded you of his older self, all cocky, all confident, all play, no work.

"What are you-" The blunt dropped from your hand, hitting the marble floor. "What are you doing here?" His eyes darted down your body, hovering over your naked torso a little longer than necessary before raising back to your face.

"You didn't need me?" You dropped your head, a firm hand cupped on your jaw, the touch burned into your skin and your gaze was being directed back to Ben. He felt so real. He felt solid. He felt tangible.

🎶 She is dancing away from you now (Oooh). 🎶

🎶 She was just a wish, she was just a wish (ooh, ooh). 🎶

🎶 And her memory is all that is left for you now. 🎶

"Am I hallucinating?" Your palms rested gently on his chest, Ben's thumb scaled your cheek and he sighed.

"No."

🎶 You see you're a gypsy. 🎶

"This is a dream, sweetheart."

"Of course it is," You sniffled.

"You wouldn't be able to hallucinate, even if you wanted." Another voice chimed and when you glanced over, it was Vogelbaum. "Your body can't sustain the affects of foreign substances long enough for that to happen." He was in a bloodied labcoat and his words were slightly muffled through a gas mask. Your expression lit up with panic and your head was being yanked back by Soldier Boy's hand.

"Don't pay attention to that piece of shit." Soldier Boy drew you closer with his other hand at your hip. "Just look at me."

"Why is this happening? Why am I dreaming about this?" You whispered, Ben's hand moved to cradle the back of your head.

"Because I'm the answer." You blinked at him, then tiredly moved into his body. Your arms wrapped around him and you hugged him. Ben enveloped you in return, his strong and bulky arms holding you close...

"You even smell real."

"That's what happens when you smoke a lot of dope."

"Also, the cannabis you were smoking no doubt contained traces of LSD." Vogelbaum again. You squeezed your eyes shut and Soldier Boy grunted when your arms tightened around him.

"Can he just shut up for fucks sake?" Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and he exhaled with a sigh.

"You want my advice?"

"Not really." He grabbed your shoulders and drew you away at arm's length.

"Sometimes you gotta take life by the balls, kid." You blinked at him, your head sinking toward your chest. Soldier Boy rolled his eyes before grabbing under your chin and lifting your head again. "Remember back in the day. We didn't let anybody get in our way. We owned this fuckin' place."

"Oh no." You breathed, your palms rose to your cheeks and Soldier Boy relinquished his hold on you so you could pace away from him. "It's happening. This is it. I'm having the worst mental breakdown of my life. I'm going to destroy the world."

"Only in theory." Vogelbaum piped in again, "Theoretically your body can reach temperatures bordering that of the sun and in that instance-" Soldier Boy's shield came hurtling toward him out of nowhere. The Scientist disappeared in a puff of smoke before the metal could touch him.

"I hate that guy." Soldier Boy's head tilted as he considered you. "Listen..." He emphasized with raised hands. "The only person who understands you right now is me." He stepped toward you, and you hunched in on yourself in defeat."You have me. I'm your answer."

"You're also a figment of my imagination."

"Nah, honey, I'm out there. I'm alive. Come find me."

"You want me dead out there." Soldier Boy's lips quirked up in a handsome smirk and he shook his head.

"But, sweetheart, I don't."

...

When your eyes opened, they opened slowly, the blunt had burnt out in your bed sheet and your body was sprawled out across the bed in all different directions. You blinked at the ceiling, thinking about your dream, thinking about him. The thought left a gross taste in your mouth, your stomach jumped and a weight settled in your chest.

Gosh, you wanted to die sometimes, didn't you?

What was this? What were you doing here?

Why don't you just leave and give all this up? Just like you always wanted.

Because you can't.

You were tired.

It took a few minutes of blank staring before you rose from your bed and travelled out of your room.

"God help me!" You heard a voice exclaim as you entered into the living room. It was Agnes. She made an effort to cover her gaze from your nude figure. And after all these years, she still hadn't gotten used to your ways. You squinted at her, stumbling toward the onset of the kitchen.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave." Agnes nervously clenched and unclenched her fingers, finally lowering her hand to look at you. Your eyes connected, Agnus' wrinkles creased with a furrowed brow, with concern.

"Homelander wanted me to stay. He's worried about you." You groaned, pouring yourself another glass of whiskey and downing it back with a wince.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You poured the next glass, sipping from it as you held Agnus' expectant gaze.

"John just wants to make sure I'm on his side." You replied in a dull tone, hunching over the countertop.

"Are you?" You didn't respond. Not immediately. Your eyes flitted around the penthouse and you took in the expanse of space that had been your home for decades.

"Maybe I don't want to be on a side anymore, Agnes." You placed your glass down and stalked over to a wall that held various photos and movie posters and memories from the old days. You scanned each photo, as you had hundreds of times, with a trained eye.

"Please. Tell me what's wrong."

"Everything I do, it doesn't matter." Your eyes paused on a familiar face, and you felt a sadness engulf the entirety of your heart.

He was so good to you. Always trying to comfort you. Always at your side when you needed him.

"Do ya'maybe want to talk about it?"

"No."

You would go find him. That was final. You were sure of it. Screw everyone else. This man. He would be the one you went to. He was the one you needed. He would tell you what you needed to do and he would be genuine. Above all. He would be genuine.

"I'm heading out for a little bit, Agnes. Alone." You took quick steps toward your room.

"Wait, wh-where are you going? Homelander told me to watch you." You didn't respond, turning to close the double doors into your bedroom. At the last glimpse between the cracks, you saw her plop onto the couch with exasperation.

#reader #the boys #homelander #the seven #black noir #soldier boy x reader #vought international #vogelbaum

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michael-aftonz · 18 hours

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how the stardew valley characters (mainly pelican town residents) would react to you telling them you're trans/nonbinary:

- sebastian: "okay? me too."

- maru: "oh that's wonderful! thank you for telling me, farmer."

- sam: "cool 😎" (how he said that out loud is anyone's guess)

- harvey: "oh! anything i can do to help you out?"

- alex: "that's awesome!"

- shane: "ok."

- elliot: "marvelous! thank you for telling me."

- emily: "my friend, sandy, is trans too!"

- penny: "thank you for telling me. you look beautiful/handsome/ gender neutral or gender specific compliment of your choice."

- abigail: "swag."

- haley: "that's amazing." (she'd also offer to help you try out a new style)

- leah: "i'm glad you told me. oh! i almost forgot to ask, but what pronouns would you prefer from now on?"

- lewis: "your grandfather would be just as proud as i am."

- evelyn: "oh, i'm proud of you, dearie.."

- george: "huh? speak up? you like trains? what does that have to do with me?"

- robin: "oh! sebastian is, too! have you met my son?"

- demetrius: "fascinating. did you know some fish species also become transgender if they're unable to find a mate-"

- gus: "oh that's great! here's a drink, on the house, to celebrate."

- pierre: "great! how about some seeds to celebrate? i can sell you special flower seeds that grow in the colors of your desired pride flag."

- kent: "that's wonderful."

- jodi: "oh, sweetheart, that's great! thank you for telling me."

- marnie: "oh, farmer! thank you for telling me. i'm so proud of you."

- willy: "aye. yer still one heck of a good angler."

- wizard: "you know.. i can help you with that." (referring to the statue in his basement where you can pay 500g to change your appearance)

- clint: "👍"

- vincent: "im sorry, i don't know what that is.."

- jas: "okay. can i go play now?"

- krobus: "finally. the humans are catching on! i haven't had a gender since the day i spawned."

- dwarf: "nice."

- linus: "that's great, friend. :]"

- caroline: "oh! i'm proud of you, [name]."

- pam: "that's great, kid. make something of yourself."

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euryvices · 3 days

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after exclusively listening to rap music for almost three days, here are my thoughts (a beginners guide to the culture from a beginner herself) + a playlist of recs <3

if you start reading this, please please read till the end (and maybe reblog with suggestions as i'm still new here.) this is (maybe?) a guide for other people who are outside of the hiphop culture, but who still get affected by it and it's fluctuations. (tags at the end, playlist at the end, most of my thoughts at the end.) disclaimer - i have not slept or showered in the three days it took for the preparation of this, whatever it may become. this is all my adrenaline rush and black coffee talking. may my opinions piss you off. godspeed.

hiphop, the term often interchangeably used with the term rap, is actually more than just rap and the inculcation of it. there are four elements to hiphop, which exists as a broadly classifying term for the culture inherited by the people of color who lived in a specific area of america, the bronx. they are :- rapping (or MCing), deejaying (or turntabling), grafitti paintings (or tagging) and b-boying (or break-dancing). But I believe there's a fifth element - the interpersonal connections formed with the knowledge transpired, as the legend DJ Afrika Bambaataa once stated.

before we get to the explanation of the last one though, let's talk about the first sub-culture - rap. rapping is the figure-head of hiphop culture, with more than 12.8% of people worldwide listening to rap. it's a subculture that's based in the bronx, but has travelled so far that today, there are indian rappers, slovakian rappers, etc.

nothing beats a good beat and soul-poetry, which is rap. (shoutout to the producers and the music arrangers who make the music pop. these are the people that are the backbone of the industry.)

coming to the part where i become opinionated : before we understand the culture, let's understand the types of people involved in hiphop culture, starting with the rappers.

the archetypes of rappers : 1. the zeus : this refers to the proud type of rapper, whose talent trumps their behavior, but in several instances fails to see the errors of their ways. rap is very competitive, but these rappers refuse to be humbled (jay-z did slowly find vulnerability after the birth of his daughter, but his legacy remains to be cool ego). they canonically have a lot of ego and have been put on a pedestal by their followers, who form a sacred sort of club around them. it's not even a bad thing, but from an outsiders perspective it can make them feel unreachable, or terrifying - like the lord of the skies, zeus. examples for this can be :

2. the white flag : these rappers are honestly my favorite type. they have too much love and serenity to engage in rap beef*, and they continue spitting bars while finding the serenity of life in every thing. it could be because they value their own peace, or because other rappers know it would be curtains if they beefed with them. either way, they mostly stay unbothered and just...do what they love. some examples are :

(*when i say beef here, its strictly restricted to diss tracks against other rappers)

3. the shakespeares : rappers that write like their hands are dipped in god's blood. these fine lyricists make rap what it is, make the genre what it is. they may also fall under another category, "the zealots" as their words stem from a place of anger, love, hatred, mutiny - strong feelings that invoke strong feelings. while some other rappers don't care about the lyrics (see, "the blue balls") these rappers are all about a message they need to bring to the table. some examples are :

they are called lyrical rappers.

4. the rabid dogs : while the title of this archetype sounds rude, it's definitely not. these rappers are the ones that, while similar to "the shakespeares", write their own tracks but are also out for blood. they have looked into the light unblinking, and then gone for a coffee run. frankly, they terrify me and they should terrify you too - but the respect for them is unparalleled. they are the underdogs/rabid dogs/obstinate toothed rappers that fuel the competitive streak rap needs. some examples are :

they are also called hardcore rappers. *

5. the zealots : these rappers were actually my first introduction to the genre. very similar to "the rabid dogs" and "the shakespeares", these rappers can sometimes be full of blood-lust, or sometimes write very soul moving pieces. it all depends on the day. they have a strong message they want the world to hear. and hear we do. "the zealots" often talk about growing pains and the impact their upbringing has had in their art. their hearts and souls contain what the rap movement embodies - freedom, and the quest for it. some examples are :

they are also called conscious rappers.* some gangsta rap* also falls under this category.

6. the blue balls : some people are good at conflicts, but others are definitely not. these are rappers that are good, but would not know how to release a diss track if the manual came and read itself aloud to them. they are the exact opposite of "the rabid dogs", whose tracks are native to their fighting spirit. these rappers on the other hand, release good tracks but cannot handle confrontation, especially when faced with an opponent who has better aim than them.* some examples are :

(*this refers ONLY to specific instances of the rappers career and is not an overall view of their art. but if a rapper is unable to respond properly to any sort of confrontation, they don't get any of my respect and fall under this category)

7. the slammers : admittedly, when i'd heard the truth about specific rappers my father used to listen to, or my friends listen to, i'd recoil in shock. "the slammers" are the type of rappers that should be/are in jail for horrific crimes against the human condition. i don't mean of the small kind, such as possessing drugs, etc. etc, i mean truly terrible crimes. you can argue that "oh, separate the art from the artist" but with rap, a genre based on the culture and the self, can you really do that? personally, i don't believe it can be done, and no, this isn't an invitation to argue over the semantics. that being said, some of their music truly does hit, even though i wish they didn't.

don't even want to call them examples, but they are :

8. the beat bottoms : i love these rappers within an inch of my soul. while a lot of conscious rap is based on knowledge of the self, these rappers are their antithesis. their music is all about the flow, how the vibes make you feel. lyrics aren't the main concern here, but that's all good - it's about providing your soul a reprieve from the more hard-hitting stuff. some of them even add autotune and make the music soothing. all in all, super catchy stuff. some examples are :

they are also called melodic rappers. *

9. the artemis : stereotypically, rap (as far as i've consumed) has been dominated by men in the industry. this category of rapper refers to the women in the industry who either play by the rules, or break free of them. it's hard to beat a person at their years-of-patriarchal institution. it's also true that while some of these rappers do not essentially fit the bill of what good rap (to me) must be, there is no doubt that there's more need for women in the rap game. one of the first female rappers signed was only able to hit a minor success, despite the songs being gold. nowadays, we see an upward trend with women in rap, and female representation in the rap genre, but as far as i can see, there doesn't seem to be many women in the conscious stream of rap. some lovely examples are :

10. the clowns : saving the most hated for last, this type of rapper is the kind that tends to lie. a lot. it could be about their ghostwriters, or their surgeries, or things in general. while some of their music is indisputably good, it is not as thought-provoking as "the shakespeares", nor as inspired as "the zealots". they have all the ego of the zeus" archetype and all the guts of "the bad bitches" archetype, but none of the talent behind it. however, the issue isn't the lack of deep lyrics, its the lying to the public eye, or actively harming the culture. these fodder rappers are necessary to create adversity in the movement. their main difference from "the blue balls" is in the fact that they are disingenuous & harmful. disappointments are :

to summarize :

now, what exactly are the different types of rap?

oldies : these are institutional hits, the types of songs that pop off even today. some of these raps deserve jail time for the way they absolutely slap.

grannies : rap that doesn't have substance, beat or...anything, really. these raps are (in my opinion) an absolute snooze fest. granny panties vibes. 10/10, would not recommend. if these raps were a hoop, i'd set the court on fire. there's nothing i hate more than uninspired, stupid music.

melodic : this kinda rap provides rest when you listen to a lot of conscious stuff, or if you're super into the sound and not the message this is right up your alley. melodic rappers are godsend, as they combine the two opposing worlds of fast-paced lyricism, and good, soul-soothing music.

hardcore : the people that rap hardcore are crazy. there, i said it. these raps are fast-paced, they are vicious, they are reminiscent of that feeling you get when you're in a coma and your heart speeds up cause someone put poison in your drip bag. it's my favorite type of rap, after conscious rap.

conscious : i love this kind of rap. it has meaning, it has soul. it looks into your house and tells you what's wrong and how to fix it. conscious rap has been the driving force of so much change, personally in my life, and overall in the dynamics of the movement.

mumble : personally, this is the type of rap i loathe the most. i get it, you love playboi carti, but i am a lyrical girlie. if i don't get the lyrics, i am prone to not particularly fucking with a song. no disrepect to carti, i love some of his work (as soon as genius comes out with the lyrics). as mother gothel said, "bitch stop mumbling"

chopper : think hardcore rap but doing bench presses on speed x2. sometimes i wonder if these chopper rappers have lungs or they can just perform osmosis through their skin.

drill : this is a relatively new type of rap that surfaced only in/around the 2000's. it's like if gangsta rap had a different type of flow, something i can't put a name to. some of this kinda rap makes me sick, some of this kinda rap makes me want to lock & pop.

whatever the fuck those uk dudes be doing : imma be very honest, i have no idea wtf any uk rappers are except central cee. after maybe sleeping for a day, and showering, im going to actively start listening to more uk rappers (probably). so far, i understand uk rap to be based off the jamaican immigrants style of rap, a few bands and also dance?

gangsta rap : this is the type of rap i cannot begin to comprehend as someone very, very alien to the gang culture of america. i can say though, that some of the records under this type of rap are goddamn terrifying and give me an adrenaline rush.

if you've read this far, you're probably wondering what exactly "the movement" is, that i've been referring to for more than half of this written blog. so let's go back in time.

back in the '70's and 80's, block parties became a thing in america. in 1964, a historic act called the "Passage of Civil Rights" allowed african-american people to actually fight back in case of discrimination based on color. but, the seeds and stems of racism still existed at the time. black people, who had arrived onto america as slaves as you've probably read, were forced into the margins of society by the continuous hindrance they faced because of white people. they weren't even allowed into the same schools and given a level playing field in the first place! it was terrible, and wrong. and a lot of the children of that era found the inequality to be preposterous and as a result, they met up and started creating music, or dancing, or simply talking about it.

if you wonder why hiphop hadn't started before that, think about it. in a land like usa where white people and police used to be considered the upper echelons of right and justice, who used to target black americans and use them as scapegoats - do you really believe a bunch of black people before 1964 would feel safe enough to hangout publicly and just jam? it's another thing ofc that these pioneers didn't really care about that at the time and were more focused on getting their anger out - creating art from hate.

we've talked enough about the rappers and rap. now, let's go back to the tenets.

DJ Afrikaa Bambaataa, who was one of the most well-known DJ's of his time, said knowledge was one of the main pillars of hiphop, and I believe he's right. Almost every song I've heard thus far that absolutely embodies the culture is steeped in wisdom. the genre is essentially passed down from generation to generation. this creates interpersonal relationships in the rap industry that are like no other. ofc, gangs also create interpersonal relationships in the rap industry as the two are also intermixed, but i would like to idealistically believe that many rappers bond over the message they want to send out to the younger generations, the legacy they will leave. not to say that hiphop and rap were always about gangs. the origins of hiphop were to stop drug use and gang violence i believe, but as the movement changed so did the message. the power of rap went from the masses to the the people who controlled them, as does every other sphere in life.

but that doesn't mean rap has lost it's edge. it's very much a competitive field, with each rap artist trying to out-rap the other. the competition is what creates a forum to diversify ideas, maintain the standard of rap, ensure the best came out of every artist's work, and shine light upon the on-ground issues in america. but over the past few years we've seen a dynamic change. something even a newbie like me can pick up on.

the mainstream has almost always been populated by white artists and white art. this is the case in every field of life, not just rap. while sugarhill rap gang did put rap in the mainstream in america, it wasn't until eminem came around that hiphop became a staple, an actual mainstream. he opened the doors for a whole new set of rap listeners - the white american majority.

it's not surprise that there are more white people in america than black people. 61.6% of people in america according to the 2020 census identified as white alone. rap, being a musical genre that is ethnically tied with the african-american community of america, did not obviously appeal to the white masses at first. but then, as the culture shifted and the doors to rap opened, there came about so many casual listeners that were white people. nothing wrong with that, until rappers started to cater to the white audience instead of doing their own thing.

i firmly believe you should never, EVER forsake your art for the sake of your audience. rap is about the ghettos. it is about people from marginalized sides of america and the struggles of it. it is not fodder for edgy teenage white boys who want to say the n-word while you rap it. if you're a white person, or a poc like me, or any slightly privileged person listening to rap, it's important to remember that this is not your culture. no matter what you do, even if you drown yourself in black paint and play into stereotypes, you will never be a part of the culture. you can aid the movement. you can donate to blm charities. you can relate to the songs. but you can never say that you are a black person. i can't believe i have to actively say this. but there are so many desi men who feel comfortable using the n-word in a derogatory way just because they are hidden behind a phone screen.

moreover, unless you share the life experiences of the people for whom rap is actually ABOUT, then you don't have the right to call yourself an actual rap artist. i'll say it again - rap and the african-american community in the u.s is intrinsically linked.

just like how indians have bollywood music/our own classical music, brazillians have samba, russians have kalinka, etc. etc, rap music is native TO black people. this is exactly why artists like drake, who not only used his blackness as a persona and refused to accept his white side, was taken down for his disingenuity.

an issue i find within rap though, is the hypersexualization of female bodies and how that affects female rappers. you don't see many mainstream conscious female rappers, because most female rappers have to sell their image via their sexuality. and overall, the treatment of women associated with rappers is questionable sometimes. as we progress as a society though, im hoping that all this will settle.

enough of my silly yapping though. here's a playlist. it's been arranged in the order of each artist showcased in this list, then the recommendations i got from this post, and then a few songs i just vibe with.

thank you for reading this post. for all the people that genuinely want to understand rap properly. im proud of you. understanding a genre not native to you is a different experience, but to see african-american culture - the strongholds of a community that has survived after some of the most horrific times, only through the power of their steadfastness and sense of community - you can't help but feel a swell of respect. maybe that's all we really need to understand.

thank you @staaapler, @need-a-name-101, @marblebees, @honeyppie, @thelazaruscomplex, @skullinahat, @salthat, @unihumanitia, @nicknova6, @stopitbahis and @samtalksmusic for the recs. im going to pass out

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raposarealm · 1 year

Text

English Translation - Decomposition of the Universe/宇宙分解

Song/Lyrics/Video: Harumaki Gohan Vocal: Hatsune Miku Youtube auto-generated upload here:

あなたのこと僕は何も知っちゃいないから全部全部知ろうとして宇宙を覗き込んでしまった Since I don’t get a thing about you, I’ve decided I’ll learn about it all, And so I peered into space.

一昨日買った望遠鏡| 十年に一度のブルームーン手が届きそうな気がした机の横に飾りたくて The telescope I bought the day before yesterday, A once-per-decade blue moon, They seemed like they were within my reach. I wanted to adorn my desk with them.

あなたの好きな藍色だよ本当は一緒に見たいけど忙しそうにしてるからさ興味もないと思うからさ You favorite indigo color. I wanted to go to see it together with you, but But you looked so busy, I thought you didn’t care about it.

灯りも無い僕の旗を蛍が飛んでいた The fireflies were flying around My flag that was no longer lit.

あなたの宇宙を分解だ蛍火が消える前に僕はそっと僕はそっと　望遠鏡を向けたあなたの宇宙の終点は誰の声も届かないよ僕はずっと僕はずっと　目を開け続けた僕に教えて Your universe decomposes. Before the light of the fireflies disappears, I quietly, quietly, aimed my telescope. Nobody’s voice can reach The terminus of your universe anymore. I always, always, kept my eyes open, So tell me.

誰かが笑う帰り道一人で歩く海岸沿いあなたが過ごした景色が僕にも少し見えてきて Someone’s laughing along my way home, Walking by myself along the coast. The landscape where you passed your time, I also came to see it for a bit.

忘れないように　忘れないようにペンと紙に書き留めたらあなたの宇宙のレプリカ僕の大切な隠し事 So I won’t forget it, so I won’t forget it, I put pen to paper and wrote it all down, A replica of your universe, My precious secret.

机の前僕の声が宇宙に溶けていく In front of your desk, my voice Melts into the universe.

あなたの宇宙を分解だ僕だけが見つけたんだ僕はそっと僕はそっと　望遠鏡を向けた僕の宇宙の終点でいつまでも笑い合ってそしてずっとそしてずっと　目を閉じ続ける Your universe decomposes. I’m the only one who discovered it. I quietly, quietly, aimed my telescope. At the terminus of my universe, We can laugh together for as long as we want, And so all this time, all this time, I keep closing my eyes.

夢を見ていました　遠い国でした肩を寄せていました I was dreaming of a distant country. I was approaching your shoulder.

あなたが隠した彗星が僕だけを呼んでいたんだだからずっとだからずっと　探しているのさあなたの宇宙を分解だ蛍火が消える前に僕の目が見えているうちに Only I was calling to The comet you had hidden. So I’m forever, forever, searching for it. Your universe decomposes. Before the light of the fireflies disappears, It can be seen within my eyes.

Please note that this translation has not been reviewed by anybody else, so there may still be some errors. If you spot anything, please let me know.

All rights are to Harumaki Gohan, I own nothing but this translation. You are free to use this translation, but I ask that you credit this source.

#no i don't know what the flag is referring to #but that's the word there so.#yes i've been doing a bunch of these but the wiki has a bunch left untranslated so expect more #lots of harugo songs have translations that the wiki can't use #i've given blanket permission for use there but i've obviously had to re-translate the songs for that to take effect #i translated uchuu bunkai several years ago when blue ending nova first came out #i'm scared to look at it now #harumaki gohan #vocaloid #hatsune miku #decomposition of the universe #uchuu bunkai #blue ending nova #rapo translates #edit: AHHH I FORGOT THE READ MORE LINK AGAIN AHHHH

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