Kelly & Gian are both extremely talented artists but I feel like Ryan Ashley deserves to win. She’s amazingly talented & she works so very hard. Tune in for Ink Master tonight on Spike & vote live for Ryan Ashley Malarkey! Help her make history to be the FIRST female to win Ink Master!
Epsilon waits in Romana’s office, her hands behind her back. She has to make sure she is nice and presentable because she is going to be presented to her master.
After being taken away from her family at a young age, Epsilon was trained how to act and serve people. She was also given plenty of lessons about how to control her visions, but that does not matter too much because she was forced into an operation to install a device that controls it for her. Now, behind her right ear is a small dial where her new master can tune into her mind and search for a vision in particular.
Her head still hurts from the procedure and she feels weak, but she has to stay strong so she doesn’t get punished.
Seers had once been a ruling race but ever since Rassilon overtook the Pythia, seers are basically slaves. They are breed for their skills and beauty and are seen as servants at best, not a person at worst. @cardinal-braxiatel
Metaphorically speaking, there is always a cat peeing on a set of bagpipes somewhere in the world.
Practically speaking, it’s only literally happened once to me, and I discovered it the day before I was supposed to be heading into the recording studio to lay down the track for the final book in the Raven Cycle series.
The process was already somewhat strange — I’d gotten the request for the tune from Scholastic Audio very late, and I found myself with a week to write, arrange, record, and master a tune that several hundred people would probably listen to the second that I posted it. I was feeling that ominous sort of pressure that comes before a not-unwelcome but definitely sizable weather system. The Raven King is being born into a world very different from the one The Raven Boys entered.
There were no expectations when the Raven Cycle first came out in 2012. My readers already had whiplash looking from the Shiver trilogy to the Scorpio Races, so no one had any idea what sudden move I might make next. I had no idea what a fandom was. I was mostly just entertaining the hell out of myself, writing a series that I’d started a decade before, throwing together slapdash trailers with my family members providing voices, and writing music for it because I liked the excuse to get into the studio.
The series was a funky sprawling thing I’d started when I was nineteen. Back then, I was far more of a musician than I was a writer — in college, I mostly traded my long hours of writing novels for long hours of practicing bagpipes, holding down three jobs, and gigging with my band, Ballynoola. We weren’t the cool punk band that you might be imagining, but rather the sort of Celtic band that was invited to play in pubs and at weddings and at retirement homes. I, the noble leader of the band, was a snarling train-wreck of a human being, equal parts ambition and despair. Metaphorically, a cat was always peeing on bagpipes inside me.
That early, young draft of the Raven Cycle was a hopeful thing, though. It blinked through the pessimistic haze at something more and something bigger. It looked to a future that I was not convinced was worth it.
At the same time that I was writing it, Ballynoola was also getting ready to record an album to sell at gigs. Metaphorically, a cat peed in the pipe case that was our schedules, and the day before the recording session, we discovered that we were one track short of our desired album length. I grimaced and snarled and the night before, I wrote the last track of the album, calling it only “Ballynoola.”
Fast forward fifteen years. I’m now looking at the words THE END on the final book of the Raven Cycle. I’m a very different writer and musician and reader and listener and human than I was when I was 19, and it is a very different project than it was back then. The Raven Cycle is still hopeful and wide-eyed, but that’s a reflection of who I have become. It’s also snarling and dark and desperate: a mostly clear-eyed look at who I was.
I had a week to write a song that sounded like that. No. That was impossible. I could maybe pull off pretty. Sonic truth? Impossible. Pretty? Pretty was doable.
Okay, I said. You did this once before, Stiefvater. Just keep it simple. Go back to your roots. Pipes. Piano. Whistle. Harp. Think of the smiling faces in the retirement home.
And then a cat peed on my pipes. Not metaphorically. Physically. Magical odiferous crystals of pain manifested on the reed. The pipes lost the will to live. They could still be coaxed to produce a sound, but it was a soft groan of agony, a barely audible wail that implied that there may have been a tiny set of bagpipes somewhere far away.
When Lover found out, he demanded, “Why didn’t you …” But he didn’t finish the sentence, because it was not clear what it was that I should have done. There are hundreds of things in my house that I would like for the cat to never pee on and, in fact, the cat has never peed on them. I have never thought to prepare a contingency plan for the event that the cat decided to pee on anything uncovered.
My safe plan to write something pretty vanished. Any kind of plan had vanished. I headed into the studio with my harp, my whistle, my bodhran, my synthesizer and an understanding that I had four hours to make something that wasn’t going to embarrass me online.
Here’s the thing about the tracks for these books, though. Every single one of them has come together in exactly the way their accompanying book has. The Raven Boys was a messy fun frolic that didn’t have to be anything but eerie and entertaining to me: it took twice as long as my previous songs to record, but once I figured out where I was going, it was incredibly satisfying. The Dream Thieves was a disaster of a book and a disaster of a track. I knew what I wanted out of it — something weird and misty and toothsome — but I couldn’t get there. I kept writing and deleting and shifting, and that was precisely how the recording went. I wrote three times as much as I needed for both Blue Lily, Lily Blue the book and its track.
I wrote The Raven King backwards and inside out, intensely aware of the audience waiting for it, and then I took it apart and I put back only the parts that I cared about. The self-indulgent bits that were nods to the media that had made me the writer and person I was. Dance like nobody’s watching, blah blah blah, Stiefvater said, as if she ever danced.
After the cat pee, sitting in the studio, I did the same thing with the Raven King track. Several layers of low D whistle, a bit of piano to tie it together, some synth pads, a cymbal swell here and there, and my PolyEvolver pulsing the electronic beat of my current heart beneath it all.
Is it any good?
I don’t know. And honestly, I’m okay with that. That mess of noise that you hear in this track is not only what the Raven King sounds like in my head, it is also what the interior of my mind sounds like now. It is the closing sonic bookend on a series that has occupied half of my life.
I have to go source a new reed for those pipes now. That’s a metaphor, too.
Eguchi Takuya no Oretachidatte Iyasaretai! Episode 1
This is not my rip. Please download the original video from here.
I won’t mirror it to file hosting sites for download as it’s not my original rip/video. I already feel funny uploading it to YouTube, but am doing so because Baidu isn’t the easiest to download from. Possible, just difficult. I’ll work on getting future episodes and providing downloads of those. If anybody knows where past episodes are streaming (i.e. Gyao, Nico, etc.) I can probably grab those.
We back on the scene like herpes, stronger than Hercules Able to rock crowds from nurseries to Universities My beats and rhymes perfectly configurate like figure-eights You would think the mic was figure skates My soul on ice, Tonya Harding couldn’t touch it Pop it in your Benz or your bucket Walkman’s or boombox from the suburbs to Boondocks From skyscrapers to Green Acres, hear my tunes knock