Log in

No account? Create an account

My First Blog

This Journal was rather a pleasure,
I might even say I took pride,
‘till one day I went to update it
And found that it seemed to have died!

(I found there were only six icons!
I couldn’t get in it to see!
And that’s why I sent out a message –
Oh bring back my journal to me!)

My icons were crafted by Artists,
My mood-theme was made by a friend,
I thought that I’d stored my songs safely
That seemed to have come to an end!

(I found there were only six icons!
The comments would not work for me,
And that’s why I sent out a message –
Oh bring back my journal to me!)

The Minions are picked for their dancing,
(The Munion has skills quite absurd,)
It seemed if I’m hoping to save it
I’ll have to look round for a nerd!

(I found there were only six icons,
I couldn’t update it, not me,
And that’s why I sent out a message –
Oh bring back my journal to me!)

The chatroom blues

I try to be there
but when I'm out to play
I give you a call
and you just ... go away
I can't see a changling
a sprite or an elf
so I leave for the day -
I can't dance by myself...
The Operative has never been technically minded, but sometimes he wondered if the dimensional portals and this internet thing were somehow connected. He felt that they had too much in common for it to be a coincidence.

Both systems stretched between more access points than he could imagine, maybe more than a mathematician could imagine. (He’d heard a mathematician sing about quantum once and it’d given him the impression that the universe was like a ball of wool that had been thoroughly kittened.)

Both systems had misroutes, scrambles, days when the bases you were trying to reach didn’t seem to be there, trips when you couldn’t get what you wanted whatever you tried and trips when you got a damn site more than you’d bargained for!

Both systems seemed to fail at every opportunity, usually in the way that would do most damage – and both seemed to have a malign sense of humour, as if, somewhere, there was a brain that knew that they couldn’t be more trouble than they were worth.

He couldn’t do without either of them, he knew that, but when the Internet failed again and again when he was trying to post to a deadline he knew the whole system was possessed – or maybe it was working for the D’Hoffryn.

The fireworks flare in every hue!
The old year’s burning! Send the New!

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS

Edited January 1st 2017.

theatrical muse topics 446 and 241

Sometimes he dreamed about her, afterward. He could never remember the whole thing when he woke, but sometimes he tried.

The Portal opened at the edge of a smooth yellow-brown surface, perfect for dancing, and she was by his side, as she had been for a time measured only in heart-beats, in dance-steps and songs, tears and laughter, in drama and conflict and peace bought dear … A medley of moods and music …

In the dream he puts his hand to her waist to dance her away from the portal, across that smooth inviting ground. Then something makes him look again. White flakes have started to fall, drifting like petals at first, and as they touch the surface they show shadows, dips – the marks of perhaps a million footprints twirling away and back, marking the steps of dances without number, songs without end, covering the beach for as far as the eye can see.

She steps away from him, but looks back as she speaks,

“Do I have to go on alone from here?”

He watches her, knowing that her words now will set the guidelines for the future, and that she must decide whether this is a beginning or an ending. She looks out along the beach and shivers, taking another step.

“So much time has passed. Will it be the same here, now?” and again he has no answer for her.


She brushes her fingers lightly against his cheek, and he sees that her hand is becoming as wrinkled as her face,

“You never really called me by name … and you never told me yours…”

“The name you called me was good enough – and didn’t I come when you called?”

“Oh, usually. Often enough, I suppose” She has turned again and started to move away from him as they speak. The swarming snow is a busy white curtain now. It obscures her shape almost at once, but he can still see the nearest of her footprints in the snow-covered sand when he hears her calling,

“Where are you? Don’t leave me! How will we find each other now?”

Something holds him still at the mouth of the portal, but he calls to her,

Don’t you have my Talisman? Where do you ..? What’s your summoning name?”

And the first wave of the in-coming tide floods over her footprints and those too are gone without trace…

Muse, “Sweet” the Singing Demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words, Topic 446
Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving 230
Topic 241 What is the sound of one hand clapping? 160
The whole Team knew that the portals were going crazy and rumours were running wild, but the Operative seemed cheerful enough as the Minions started to move the equipment out. He was singing to himself as he checked his latest look in the mirror while he practiced his steps.

(An old Minion claimed that someone told the Master that it would reassure a potential Queen if he danced for her - after all, it’s not something that an enemy would do. It could be true, but nobody has ever heard him sing about that.)

“Have you got my Talisman?
Did you call me here?
Wear the gem and sing the song
And wait till I am near.

I have had a hundred names,
Are you singing one?
Wear the gem and sing the song,
And I might even come.”

The song stopped as the Group headed for the portal. Gigs were a serious business and this one had several targets. Some of those fires would be burning bright, before the end.

You can say what you like about the Operative’s voice. Some dislike it; some sing its praises - but there’s one thing that's always true.

Sometimes he has a voice to die for.

Muse, "Sweet" the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 209

theatrical muse 430

Put your work aside, now
For the night is deep,
Stars patrol the Heavens,
Time enough to sleep.

Darkness breathes a night scent
Blowing out the day
Turn from that computer
nightime is for play.

(Time enough for sorrow
Time enough for pain
When the bright day’s dawning,
Lights the world again.)

Now the night has fallen
See the stars look down,
Can you hear the music
Drifting from the town?

Listen to the music
Listen to the beat,
Is there something there that
Makes you tap your feet?

If you hate the path you’ve
Danced along too long,
Turn and find another
You can change your song

If the road you follow,
Leads too near the crypt,
Turn and find another,
You can change your script.

Now it’s almost midnight
Stories haven’t lied
Midnight is the time
That I leave with my bride.

Comes the final curtain,
When we dance away,
There’s my happy ending,
Come with the new day.

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom BTVS
Words, 204.
I guess it’s a matter of taste. I wouldn’t like the diet much whichever I picked.

As for the rest of it - people think of vampires as being immortal, but I’d hate to bet anything important on that. I’ve heard them described as “differently alive” or "Vitally challenged" but it takes a certain kind of mind to think of them that way.

Most of the humans who have to deal with them think of them as being “differently dead”. The version the watchers sing is that vampires start off as living humans, then the process of being turned infects them with a demon that takes over and, by the end, what’s left is a demon wearing a kind of non-biodegradable zombie. Dead but it won’t lie down. Shadows from the past, with teeth.

It could be more complicated than that. Vampires have feelings and some of them can sing; I’ve heard quite a selection. Some of them seem to have a lot of the original person left, (but you might like to think about that kind of life before you give up the garlic. The stranger’s in there too and duets ain’t always easy to learn – ask anyone who has to marry their summoner!)

Most new vampires are dust in the first week, anyway. It ain’t a good idea to let any kind of hunger rule you.

Some of that goes for the wolvenfolk, too, I guess they face a lot of the same challenges. They can be dead fast if they can’t control themselves or they look for the wrong help, and they vary. In some dimensions the Change heals damage, wounds and aging both. (Nothing heals it all, even there.) Wolfen don’t lose their original selves or their souls. They’re alive and if they survive the first stages they ain’t easy to kill. Some humans can’t learn, and those’re probably doomed; some can - and some wolves can be trained. Those can thrive for long years and take as much joy in their last moon as their first.

Pick a decent clan and follow the Lore, don’t do anything that other parts of yourself can’t live with and it could work out. (It would be good if my talents stayed with me - but I guess that’s a hunger, too.) I’ve had a lot of experience in surviving, in dealing with other species and in running a group in dangerous times. That could help either way.

Hell, when you get to my age you don’t like too many changes. Werewolves are warm and alive. They do need to head off into the wilds regularly to do some hunting and chase some tail, but … yeah, I guess I could adapt to that.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom; BTVS
Words 455

theatrical muse 414 shortcut

People have tried to explain the dimensional portals to me in the past. They even gave us a training course with a lecture on it, once. The trouble was, the teacher started to use these fancy metaphors. For instance, she said,

“Imagine a spider web stretched out between the leaves in a mixed flowerbed. Imagine the myriad gossamer strands radiating out from the central circle, with every strand leading to a different place. That should give you some idea of a Nexus. Now picture the cross-bracing silk, stretching between the strands, making junctions with them all.”

There was a huge depiction of a dew-sprinkled spider-web on the wall-sized screen behind her, but I could have envisaged that quite clearly anyway; it was pretty. I would have thought the others could have imagined it, too. Then she said,

“Now watch the spider, racing from strand to strand down the junctions. That’s how...”

The Nimwellian freaked right out. He hates bugs. He got one in his mask once and made more fuss than he did when that crazy banshee hit him with a cudgel!

When the lecture started again they switched the screen off and she started telling us to, "picture a closed book - all the pages separate but lying pressed together. Imagine that you could simply step from one page to the next, from one story to another, from story to song to drama … "

Well, fine. I’ve seen books. I’ve read books, (though not lately.) I could picture it. By the time she’d got to, “moving through one book to the next” I was imagining a kind of binge-eating bookworm, but I’m not like the Nimwellian, that didn’t bug me at all.

My problems started when she tried to explain about “Keys”. Apparently some types try to open portals with blood. I think she said that leads to the portals or the dimensions dissolving into each other, or something – I don’t know: I could imagine the blood soaking stickily into the pages and the clotting making them attach and I got nauseous. (I do not like blood. “No blood” was specified when I first registered with “MinionsRUs”; the Master mostly toasts them so it isn’t usually a problem, here.) Anyway, that took us both out of the lecture and the third minion is kind of new.

So, I know how to use the Portals but I don’t know much about how they work.

I don’t think anyone reckoned on humans deciding that the portals are a great source of free energy and making those splintered-light variations. I hope we won’t have problems with those again, I don’t think the Master liked it.

Velociraptors can’t sing worth a damn.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BtVS
Words, 449
I guess that the place is supposed to be warded against standard teleportation? If it is I’d look for a window – never take more trouble than necessary.

If I do have to use the door then it would depend on the size of the keyhole and whether there’s one of those inspection hatches anywhere. Travelling as dust or smoke has its limits, so one factor to be taken into account is whether I’m supposed to be a prisoner and whether the characters who think they’ve got me know what those limits are. It can help if they give me a couple of arias about that, but I’ll try to get them singing anyway.

One very useful trick is to listen and to find out what the hierarchy is, what the relationships are, who’s the most vulnerable and everything else I can; (OK, I do that anyway, but sometimes it’s more helpful than others.) Someone’s going to open that door sooner or later. Then – smoke out past them (or cast the illusion of smoking out past them and then get on with things once they think I’m gone; putting a nice bright light in dustmotes in the area where I’m not really teleporting is useful for that) - or just have them think they’re seeing an empty room and get out while they’re gaping, or groping for an invisible singer or whatever.

Of course, if I can get someone to sing about where the key is it could be easy. Just teleport a Minion or two to the key and leave the rest of the job to them.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.

Fandom, BTVS

Words, 263
“The Truth shall set thee free.” Aye, and there’s proof.
“Truth hurts” - and that’s another that is sooth,
But if lies are your foe then understand
The truths of it ‘fore you take sword in hand,
Or draw another weapon, song or pen,
Lest you must fight your war time and again.

Men call such words “truisms” and I know
The world’s a stage and all lives but a show,
But sing of joy or hubris, pride or shames
The listeners have been known by many names,
But labels often seal another lie.
Fame or infamy do not quite apply.

Heed you the truth that surfaces unbidden.
Regard the truth that previously was hidden.
And bear in mind before the music starts.
Liars are enemies within their hearts.
Whatever pain and heartbreak is the cost
Perceive the truth, or know your battle lost.

I’ve thought about such sayings long and long.
Think you the Singer has no hidden song?

Words, 159