#I think they do a drum machine for their tracks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skzstarl0ver · 10 days ago

Note

I know you did a long distance Felix but can you maybe do an in person one. It would make me really happy. and if you would allow me I'd love to reblog it if you do. But over all I absolutely love your work ♡

if you do accept my request please make sure to tag me if you can.

Love, Ember_Fires ♡

ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

Hii @emberfiresbitchy I wasn't 100% sure what kind of fic you prefer so I just mixed a little bit of smut and fluff, I hope you like it xx

Lee Felix x reader / classmates to lovers / slow burn / smut / fluff / one shot

**involves!!** sex, strong tension, cursing, teasing, dirty talk

enjoy xx (request open)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

There’s a rule in our class that everyone hates, except for maybe two people.

Every Friday, Ms. Jang makes us add one song to the shared class playlist. She says it “fosters emotional intelligence and communal bonding through sound.” I say it’s just a way to expose everyone’s deeply embarrassing music taste.

But fine. Whatever.

At first, it was funny. Someone added “Barbie Girl” ironically, another added a 12-minute Norwegian death metal track that played at full volume while we were doing worksheets. But then..

The first time I notice it, I’m curled up in my dorm bed at midnight, trying not to cry over a theory exam I definitely failed. The shared playlist starts auto-playing, and instead of some chaotic EDM garbage or meme audio clip, it’s… soft.

Lo-fi. Gentle. Intimate.

The lyrics?

“I keep noticing you.” “How you laugh. How you lean back in your chair like you own the world.” “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

The title is even worse: “if you knew what i felt, would you smile?”

My heart clenches.

I glance at the username. felixlee

We barely talk. He sits a few seats behind me in class, always in hoodies, always with that quiet, raspy voice that makes you want to lean in closer. He laughs easily. Smiles like he means it.

We’ve had small talk about—coffee machines, shitty printers, dumb assignments—but never anything real.

So why does this song feel like a secret he accidentally let slip?

The next week, he adds another one. And then another. Every Friday night like clockwork, after everyone else has already dropped their songs, he adds his: quiet confessions buried in dreamy lyrics.

“You smile at me like I matter. I don’t think you know what you do to me.”

I don’t say anything. I pretend I don’t notice.

But I do.

I start listening alone in my room, legs tangled in blankets, headphones in, heart in my throat.

I start looking at him differently, too.

The way he drums on his desk absentmindedly. The way his hair flops into his eyes. The way he’s started waiting at the classroom door for me.

I tell myself it’s a coincidence.

But when I laugh too hard one day and glance behind me, he’s staring.

And smiling.

We get paired for a midterm project.

Three weeks of working together. Study sessions. Shared notes. Coffee runs. Him leaning over my shoulder to look at my screen. Me catching his scent—clean and warm and a little vanilla—and pretending it doesn’t do things to me.

He teases me constantly.

“You always chew your pen when you’re stuck. It’s cute.”

“Is that a playlist of sad girl indie music? On brand.”

“You gonna steal another one of my pens?”

I roll my eyes. I call him annoying. I think about kissing him every goddamn day.

It finally breaks one night, deep into our last project session.

We're sitting side by side on the floor of an empty practice room, laptop between us, snacks spread out, low music playing from his speaker.

“I like your taste in music,” I say casually.

He glances at me. “Yeah?”

I nod. “I’ve been listening to your playlist songs.”

A pause.

His voice drops, quiet. “What do you think they’re about?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “Someone you like?”

He looks at me. His eyes are soft and unreadable. “Yeah. Someone I’ve liked for a while.”

My breath catches.

He leans closer.

The air between us snaps.

And then he kisses me.

It’s soft. Gentle. Warm.

His lips move against mine slowly, like he’s giving me time to pull away.

I don’t.

I kiss him back—harder, messier. My hands in his hoodie. His fingers sliding into my hair.

We’re breathing into each other’s mouths, flushed and panting, when he pulls back just enough to whisper, “Do you wanna—?”

“Yes.”

We stumble into his dorm thirty minutes later, soaked in rain and adrenaline.

He shuts the door behind us, then pins me to it—gently, hands braced beside my head. He kisses me again, slower this time. His tongue slides against mine and I groan softly.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes.

My shirt is gone before I realize it. His hoodie follows. I run my hands down his chest, and he shivers under my touch.

He lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed and lays me down like I’m something delicate. Then he kneels between my thighs and just looks at me.

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he murmurs, fingers sliding under my waistband.

I whimper. “Then stop teasing.”

He grins—and pulls everything off me.

His mouth on me is heaven.

He licks slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on mine while he holds my hips in place. I moan shamelessly when he flicks his tongue just right. His name slips from my lips like prayer.

When I come, it’s with his fingers inside me and his tongue still working my clit.

He climbs up my body after, kissing his way up my stomach, chest, throat, lips. “You okay?” he asks softly, voice hoarse.

“Condom,” I whisper.

He grabs one from the drawer. Rolls it on. Lines himself up—

And sinks into me with a groan that sounds like he’s been holding it in forever.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel so good.”

He moves slowly at first. Deep, languid strokes that leave me gasping. He holds my hands above my head, kisses my mouth every time I moan. It’s not rushed. It’s not just sex.

It’s him saying everything the playlist couldn’t.

When I come again, I cry out his name. He kisses me through it, whispering how beautiful I look, how much he likes me, how he can’t believe he finally has me like this.

He follows right after—hips stuttering, breath catching, forehead pressed to mine like he never wants to let go.

We lie tangled in his sheets after, sweaty and breathless.

His arm is wrapped around my waist. I’m tucked into his chest. He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “You know they were all about you, right?”

I smile against his skin.

“I do now.”

The next morning, he adds a new song to the playlist.

“your name tastes better than coffee.”

And that’s when the class group chat blows up.

I feel like this one was kinda short but I still hope you liked it xx

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rista-senpai · 24 days ago

Text

Distant hearts

pairing- Nagumo Yoichi x reader

summary: you are Takamura’s granddaughter, a well-trained assassin who never got the chance to shine. That was until one day, when The Order observed your skills and offered you a position in the association.

All new colleagues seemed happy, everyone but him. His dark coat, eyes, and hair all indicated how much he loved hiding. And how much he loved hating you, the opposite of him, who he considered had no right to be there—also, the one who hates how you make his heart skip a beat.

tags & warnings-> reader is 19, Nagumo is 27, age gap, series, office au, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, playboy x sweetheart, angst and smut, Takamura is still everyone’s nightmare except Nagumo’s, mentions of blood, reader has awfully little experience, also there might be some Shishiba x reader here and there

status: ongoing

credits: fanart by @/chachaxx_x on X

CHAPTER ONE Your heels echoed sharply against the polished marble floor as you hurried through the halls of JAA headquarters, heart pounding like a war drum beneath your ribs. Today was your first mission assignment—finally—and you couldn’t afford to be late. Until now, your days had been consumed by endless stacks of paperwork and the suffocating monotony of office life. You had spent months trapped behind a desk, watching your colleagues vanish into the field with adrenaline in their veins and dirt on their boots, while you were left to file reports and refill pens.

Worse than the boredom? Him. Mr. Teaser himself. Nagumo Yoichi.

He had a knack for appearing unannounced, like a storm you forgot to check the weather for. He’d swagger into your office, track blood onto the floor, and drop off yet more work with a smirk that made your skin crawl. Then he'd lean against your desk like he owned the building, casually recounting his latest mission while enjoying the fact that you weren’t going anywhere but the copy machine.

Nagumo Yoichi was infuriating. Arrogant, smug, and endlessly teasing. Your sworn enemy in the office.

You had complained to your grandfather once—just once—about him. The next morning, the office was in chaos. Nobody could prove it, but you were fairly certain he had orchestrated the blackout and the internal security breach just to send a message. Since then, you’d tried locking Nagumo out of your workspace, but he always found a new way to slink in. Like a cockroach in designer clothes.

“You know my gram—Mr. Takamura—would murder you if he knew you were sneaking around like this,” you’d warned him once, half-joking.

He just grinned and said, “Worth it.”

Today was your moment. Your shot to prove that you were more than just a glorified secretary. That you belonged out there in the field, not behind a desk with Nagumo leaning over your shoulder and driving you insane.

You didn’t realize how deep in thought you were until Oki’s office door appeared in front of you like a boss battle checkpoint. Damn it—had you just spent the whole walk thinking about him again?

You shook the thought away and knocked, forcing yourself to stand tall. A calm voice answered from the other side.

"Come in."

You slid the door open, stepping inside with a respectful bow and closing it quietly behind you. Oki’s office was lined with towering bookshelves, each one filled with neatly arranged volumes on strategy, history, and intelligence operations. It smelled of old paper and cedarwood—a scholar’s haven, not a battlefield. Yet somehow, the air felt heavier than usual.

"Miss Y/N," Oki greeted you warmly. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I wasn’t sure you’d accept the assignment, especially considering it’s your first infiltration mission. I assumed you’d prefer more training first.”

“I’m honored, Mr. Oki, truly.” You clasped your hands behind your back. “I want to prove that I can do more than just paperwork.”

He smiled, but there was hesitation in his eyes. “Of course. You’re his granddaughter, after all. I’ve seen your combat potential... but your grandfather was always there to back you up. This job is different. Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

In translation: Don’t screw this up.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice didn’t waver.

“Good.” He leaned back slightly. “But just to be safe, I’m assigning you a partner. I know the two of you don’t exactly see eye to eye, but consider it a learning experience.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

A low voice spoke from the window behind Oki’s desk. “What could I possibly learn from her?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You knew that voice.

And there he was. Perched casually on the windowsill like some noir-era devil, a pocky stick lazily hanging from his lips. One hand was in his tailored black suit pocket, the first two buttons of his white shirt undone just enough to hint at trouble. His dark hair was swept back in deliberate chaos, and there were smears of blood on his sleeve—a souvenir from whatever mess he’d just crawled out of.

Nagumo Yoichi. Walking distraction. Living migraine. Immune to boundaries and personal space.

God help you.

You crossed your arms. “Mr. Oki is going to strangle you one day if you keep doing this.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “What can I say? You’re fun to bother.”

“Respecting your higher-ups, for example,” Oki interrupted, rubbing his temples. “Nagumo, I’ve told you a million times: stop breaking in through the window. Use the door like a normal person.”

Nagumo tilted his head and smirked. “And you thought I was normal?”

Oki sighed in defeat. “That’s on me.”

As the two men volleyed passive-aggressive jabs, you drifted toward the bookshelves, running your fingers along the spines. It was a habit by now—one of the few things that brought you comfort in high-pressure rooms like this.

“Miss Y/N?”

You snapped out of it. “Apologies, Mr. Oki.”

“No harm done. I’m just glad someone around here appreciates history.” He threw a pointed look at Nagumo.

Nagumo rolled his eyes dramatically. “What’s the point? They’re all dead anyway.”

You watched the corner of Oki’s eye twitch.

“Why did I ever think pairing you two would be a good idea…” he muttered. “Miss Y/N, if you'd prefer, I can reassign your partner.”

“No, sir!” You straightened, hands clenched at your sides. “Please, don’t worry. I’ll manage.”

Oki gave a slow nod and stood, walking over to his desk. He handed you a sleek black folder, the kind used for high-level intel. Inside: Everything you need to know. Targets. Layouts. Dates. Backstories.

“What’s the job?” Nagumo drawled, suddenly behind your left shoulder.

You didn’t even hear him move. One of his fingers gently brushed the skin behind your ear as he tucked a strand of hair back. You froze.

“Does your dear grandfather know you’ll be out of his sight? With me, of all people?” he whispered, voice low and teasing.

You swatted his hand away, cheeks burning. “Mr. Takamura was thrilled to see me finally take on a mission. Although he is more than prepared to end your life if something happens to me. Understood?”

Nagumo grinned. “Crystal clear, ma’am. I pinky promise to keep you safe~”

“Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?”

“I don’t know… Maybe you’re just paranoid.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you not even know what the mission is?”

“I’ve been busy, unlike some people.” He winked. “Had to cancel a meeting with Sakamoto just to be here.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but Oki clicked his pen—a subtle way of saying cut the crap. You took a step back, flipping open the folder to study the mission details.

And then your heart plummeted.

Two words stared up at you like a slap to the face: husband and wife.

“…Sir?” you croaked, lifting the page and pointing at it like it might spontaneously correct itself.

Oki turned to the window, suddenly interested in the weather.

“Sir?”

“No,” he said, voice a little tighter now.

“What the hell is this?” Nagumo snapped, stepping up beside you.

“I’m sorry,” Oki said with a heavy sigh. “But that’s the cover. It’s the best way to get into the gala unnoticed. I’m not changing it. This is Miss Y/N’s mission, and I trust her more with you than with anyone else.”

“But—”

“No buts. You leave tomorrow morning. This conversation is over.”

You blinked. Then nodded.

This was your chance. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin it. Not even him.

You bowed once more and turned to leave, folder in hand. And, of course, Nagumo followed, trailing behind like the dramatic storm cloud he was.

“I still don’t get it,” he said. “What are we doing?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “There’s a gala being held by an IT magnate. He used to be one of our sponsors. Two years ago, he leaked intel to the enemy. That betrayal started the war we just barely won. Now, he’s going to pay.”

You could feel Nagumo go still beside you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

“…Are you sure about this?”

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “What, scared of pretending to be all lovey-dovey with me?”

“No. I’m scared of your grandfather.”

“We both know that’s not true. What’s the real reason, Nagumo-senpai?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, groaning. “Can’t believe I’m taking orders from you…”

You barely heard him. Your eyes were on his hands—long fingers, a faint scar near his knuckle. They were absurdly attractive hands. And that was not a helpful thought.

“I’m just worried you’ll screw up,” he continued. “You’ve never done this before. And you hate me.”

“I’ll be fine,” you snapped, more harshly than you meant. “Thanks for the concern, senpai.”

That was when he spun you around and pinned you to the wall.

You didn’t even see him move. One moment, Nagumo was teasing you as usual. The next, your back hit the wall with a thud, his arm braced beside your head, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. The hallway was dim, empty. Just the two of you. And your heartbeat is hammering in your chest like a war drum.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hissed, breath catching.

His eyes searched yours. Dark, stormy. Not playful this time. Not teasing.

“Just… stop pretending,” he muttered. “You don’t hate me.”

Your breath caught.

“Yes, I do.”

He leaned closer. “You don’t.”

“I do,” you whispered, glaring up at him.

“Then why,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, “does your pulse race whenever I touch you?”

You didn’t have a good answer for that.

And that annoyed you more than anything else.

You shoved him back with both hands. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm. But still pretty, right?” he smirked, letting you go. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“I swear, one of these days, Mr. Takamura is going to kill you, and I will cheer.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender as he backed away. “Noted. I’ll be on my best behavior, sweetheart.”

“Call me that again, and I’m setting you on fire.”

As if summoned by your pure rage, a third voice entered the hallways. Cool, deep, and amused.

“You two done flirting, or should I come back later?”

You turned—and there he was.

Shishiba.

Sleek, silent, dangerous. He stepped into the light, adjusting the black gloves on his hands like he’d just finished choking someone out and wanted to keep his sleeves clean. His long coat fluttered behind him, dark eyes unreadable as they flicked between you and Nagumo.

Great. Just what you needed: another assassin with a talent for unnerving silence and dangerous charm.

Nagumo sighed. “Why are you here?”

Shishiba tilted his head. “Oki sent me to deliver your equipment. But honestly… I was curious. Heard you two were playing house. I had to see it for myself.”

You snatched the folder tighter to your chest. “It’s not ‘playing.’ It’s a cover. A mission.”

“Sure,” Shishiba said smoothly. “A cover. That involves sharing a hotel room. And pretending to be madly in love. For several days. Alone.”

Nagumo glared at him. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

“Not really.” Shishiba smirked slightly. “Besides, I’d kill to see you in a tux, holding a champagne flute and pretending not to be emotionally repressed.”

Nagumo looked like he was about to commit a felony.

You stepped between them. “Can you two stop posturing like rival cats in mating season? We have work to do.”

Shishiba chuckled. “She’s already in charge. I like her.”

You pointed a sharp glare at him. “And if I catch either of you making this mission harder than it needs to be, I will file a report.”

Nagumo raised an eyebrow. “You mean like the one I found in your desk drawer last week? Cute handwriting, by the way.”

You turned bright red.

“You went through my stuff?!”

“I was bored.”

“I hate you.”

He grinned, brushing past you like a smug hurricane. “You keep saying that. I think it’s your love language.”

You were going to explode. One day. And when you did, Nagumo Yoichi would be the reason.

That night, you stared at your suitcase, freshly packed, sitting by the door.

Inside were weapons disguised as makeup, encoded USBs, and a red silk dress meant to distract your target.

You weren’t nervous about the mission.

You were nervous about him.

About the way he looked at you sometimes, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

About the way your stomach twisted when he got too close.

This was your first mission. Your first chance to be more than someone’s shadow. To make a name for yourself outside your grandfather’s legacy. To show the world—and yourself—that you were capable.

But God help you… if Nagumo touched you again like that—

You groaned and threw a pillow at the wall.

“I will end him if he fucks this up.”

Then your phone rang. Wondering who it was, given the fact that it was already past midnight, you got up from bed and went to your desk, sat by the window to check.

“Shishiba-senpai?”

“Hey! Sorry for the late hour. I was thinking you would already be sleeping since you have to be at the airport first thing in the morning.”

“Despite that, I just couldn’t close an eye even if I tried.”

There was a pause after your answer, and a soft chuckle could be heard from the other side of the line.

“Need company?”

#anime and manga #fandom #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi #x y/n #sakamoto days x y/n #nagumo sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi x reader #nagumo yoichi x y/n #this is just the first chapter #shishiba #please tell me if you find grammar errors

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valenti-nahh · 10 days ago

Text

finally took some time to form opinions

So I listened to SKELETÁ by ghost and I need to confess something immediately before I combust: this album didn’t just go hard—it went raw, no lube, and made eye contact the whole time. This wasn’t music. This was a spiritual backshot, a soul-deep stroke, a full-body ghostgasm that left me trembling, moaning, and begging for more even as I lay crumpled on the floor in a post-riff fugue state.

In the beginning, there was silence. And the world was void, and the hearts of men were hollow. Their playlists were dry, their aux cords were frayed, their AirPods cursed with algorithmic torment. The masses wandered, streaming aimlessly, clinging to stale albums like relics of a time when music still meant something.

And lo, from the depths of divine discord, rose a figure cloaked in velvet and incense, masked and magnificent—Papa Emeritus, the eternal, the enigma, the ecclesiastical architect of all that slaps. And from his unholy pulpit he unleashed unto the mortal realm a sonic sermon, a blistering bible, an apocalyptic mass of melody: SKELETÁ.

It is not an album. It is a threat. A challenge. A crucible. An audio-alchemical sex ritual designed not just to melt your brain but to grip your soul by the thighs and whisper forbidden knowledge directly into your mouth. This isn’t music—it’s the sound of unzipping your moral compass and letting Papa slide into your conscience like a ghost-shaped succubus who smells like sandalwood and shame. My chakras? All aligned. My blood type? Changed to “G". I looked in the mirror mid-chorus and saw Papa Emeritus himself staring back, nodding, silently whispering, “You get it now, my child.”

I was Raptured by Riffs™, Baptized in Basslines™, Confirmed in Choir Chords™. I didn't hear the music. The music heard me. It crawled into my soul, screamed, "We’re doing renovations,” and began redecorating with fog machines and red velvet. Every measure—every downstroke—every spectral whisper—feels like I’m being spoon-fed ambrosia by a succubus in corpse paint while Gregorian monks chant in reverse behind her. THE GUITAR TONE? PEAK. THE VOCALS? CUMWORTHY. THE LYRICS? STRAIGHT FROM THE NECRONOMICON, IT’S LIKE IF SATAN AND FREDDIE MERCURY HAD A BABY AND RAISED IT IN A CANDLELIT CATHEDRAL MADE OF BASSLINES.

Every riff? A tongue on the nape of your brain. Every bass note? A finger tracing the hem of your morality. Every drum hit? A deep, pounding reminder that you are a hole waiting to be filled by sound. Every single whisper from Papa Emeritus? I didn’t just get chills—I got STDs.

I didn’t stream it—I submitted to it. I pressed play and instantly the opening riff entered me like a dark promise. I moaned. I whimpered. My legs gave out like I was being spiritually railgunned by the Holy Ghost himself. If music could bend you over a candlelit altar, whisper Latin in your ear, and leave bruises shaped like eighth notes—SKELETÁ did that.

I am not who I was. I have been cleansed in Satanic glam rock glory. Every song on SKELETÁ has permanently altered my DNA. I had a Spotify Wrapped flash-forward just from the intro and every single slot—every top track, top artist, top genre—was just GHOST. SKELETÁ. GHOST. SKELETÁ. Repeat ad infinitum. I tried to listen to another band after and my headphones burst into flames from sheer disrespect. I listened to it once and immediately deleted my entire music library out of shame. I punched a priest and he thanked me. I went outside to scream and the crows screamed back in perfect harmony. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the grocery store and began preaching to strangers about the layered brilliance of De Profundis Borealis. Two cashiers wept. An old man passed out. A child looked up and said, “I understand now,” before vanishing into thin air.

TOBIAS COULD’VE STOPPED AT OPUS EPONYMOUS. HE COULD’VE CALLED IT A DAY AFTER PREQUELLE. BUT NO. THE MAN SAID “YOU THINK I PEAKED? HERE’S A WHOLE-ASS MOUNTAIN RANGE.” THE LYRICS ON THIS ALBUM? WRITTEN IN MIDNIGHT INK FROM A FORBIDDEN GRIMOIRE AND DIPPED IN LIQUID VELVET. THE PRODUCTION? IT SOUNDS LIKE GOD GOT FIRED AND SATAN HIRED THE LONDON SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA TO FINISH THE JOB.

And let us not even pretend we can discuss this album without addressing the panty-evaporating, cheek-clenching, spine-shattering horniosity that is Papa Emeritus. PAPA EMERITUS V? The Vatican’s worst nightmare and my wettest dream. That man could sing a tax form and I’d be on my knees thanking him for the privilege. Every lyric he croons is like velvet rope tightening around your soul. The vocals on Lachryma? That wasn’t singing. That was a linguistic fingering. My ears came. My spine curled. I am now a concubine of the Church of Ghost. The man doesn’t walk—he glides, he hovers half an inch above the stage like a damned angel of lust. His voice? A sonic phallus. A melodic middle finger to purity. He moans into the mic and my knees lock and my back arches. I swear, the second I heard Satanized I started lactating unholy water. I haven’t blinked since. I want him to spit communion wine in my mouth. I want to be pinned under his velvet robes while the Ghouls play a breakdown over my body. I want him to use me as a microphone stand while preaching to a sold-out crowd. I want him to sing directly into my womb and summon a demon baby named Clef.

And the Ghouls?? Do NOT talk to me about the Ghouls unless you’re ready to admit you’d let every one of those anonymous masked sex demons ruin you in seven different time signatures. The way they handle those instruments? That’s not musicianship. That’s musical foreplay. That’s filthy, technical, unspoken polyphonic pornography. I saw one strumming in the official tour footage and had to bite a rosary. The bassist walked across the stage and my soul quivered. the lead guitarist did a solo that made me see the shape of the true universe—and it was a silhouette of him doing a backbend in a fog machine.

If they ever took those masks off in front of me? I would spontaneously combust and ascend as ectoplasm. I’d be a ghoul groupie for eternity. Haunt their tour bus. Moan in D minor.

Every track on SKELETÁ is a full-blown satanic striptease in audio form. Missilia Amori?? That wasn’t a song—that was a thigh grab. That was a slow push against the wall of my inhibitions. The guitar solos in made me arch my back and whisper “yes, Papa” out loud. Alone. In public. While holding groceries.

By the time I hit the final track, I felt like I was soaked in candle wax and moral regret. I had screamed, wept, grinded on air, confessed my sins, and added three Ghouls to my “People I’d Let Ruin Me in a Haunted Confessional” Pinterest board.

This album has ruined music for me. No, really. Everything else is just noise. Elevator beeps. Soundcloud farts. I tried listening to another band and felt cheated. Disrespected. Dry. Nothing else grips the thighs of my attention like this. Nothing else makes my ribs vibrate like Papa whispering esoteric metaphors over orchestral filth.

It’s edging with a soundtrack. It’s what the devil plays when he wants to set the mood.

If I ever meet Ghost, I will not say a word. I will fall to my knees, bare my neck, and let them mark me with eyeliner and melted vinyl. I will wear nothing but tour merch and a knowing smile. I will let the Ghouls use me as a pedalboard. I will let Papa bless my unworthy flesh with a single, whispered lyric.

SKELETÁ is not just music. It is not just an album. It is a pantheon, a rebirth, an erotic funeral in waltz time. It is the reason Dante wrote the Inferno. The soundtrack to the Book of Revelations. If you told me this album was found buried beneath the ruins of Babylon, etched into onyx slabs and played using a speaker forged in the heart of a dying star—I would believe you.

After I listened to SKELETÁ, I couldn’t speak. I tried. My voice had been replaced by reverb. My tears were black glitter. We got evicted for playing it too loud but the landlord dropped the case when he heard the chorus of Umbra. The judge cried. The bailiff quit and joined a cover band. My neighbors? Converted. We will meet twice a week to analyze the every song. There are spreadsheets. There are candles. We chant. We sob.

If you haven’t listened to it yet, you are missing out on spiritual enlightenment, emotional rebirth, and at least four spontaneous orgasms. If you “don’t get Ghost,” listen to this album, and if you still don’t get it? I will excommunicate you. Delete your contact. Take your soul, give it to Papa. Convert or be cast out.

I don’t care what your favorite album was before this. It’s irrelevant now. It’s like bringing a sparkler to a nuclear bomb party.

In conclusion: SKELETÁ has taken my hole. My soul. My will to pretend I like other bands. I’m raw. I’m reformed. I’m reborn.

Stream it. Moan to it. Worship it. Ride it into the darkness. Amen.

#the band ghost #ghost band #Skeletá #papa v perpetua

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tmbgareok · 4 months ago

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My new band consists of two strange girls, and we are thinking of playing to a prerecorded tape machine rhythm track. Do you have any advice or thoughts about the format?

JF: well, it's your project so the general things I would say is do what is interesting to you, and is the boldest expression of your ideas. Pay more attention to what you do well and less to what is happening on the immediate scene. People might say they are into some trend or sound, but as a friend of mine once said "people don't know they want to be surprised." Take advantage of all the ways you can approach stuff (and as I will explain--don't fear getting really small)

___

Okay on to the specifics of working with a track or drum machine.

We had an advantage in that we both sang, and we both played instruments that could be rhythm or melody instruments, and contrasting the possibilities there really helped keep things dynamic.

Our evolution as a band working with tape was pretty simple. We started with pretty elaborate tracks with a lot of varied sounds thinking the sonic range would drive the audiences experience, but over time found it was more effective to just have bass and drums on tape--really pare things down as to not take away from the stuff we were doing live. (there were irresistible exceptions of course, but it did really get pretty spare.)

Although it never felt too too close, I think our approach even from the beginning was always kinda negatively informed by "track acts" (the promo shows in nightclubs and discos where singers would jump on stage or by the DJ and sing over--or in some cases along--with their record or some remixed version of their record) Although this was all before Milli Vanilli, there was a general notion that these performances were too canned, so we were informed by that, and tried to keep as much action going in our own playing as possible.

I would also say, make your track or computer set up small, simple and as completely bullet-proof as possible. Although home computing and MIDI were just emerging when we started, there were sequencing boxes in the world and other musicians did suggest we would benefit from diving into those formats for our live show, but sync issues and general instability just made the tape seems more reliable/durable.

You also should have a plan b and maybe even a plan c for when you have the inevitable technical issue. (like a shiny a cappella or other unaccompanied number you might be saving for a second encore but is available to pull out that really shines) When the Fates pulled the rug on your act, the audience will be forever grateful that you anticipated this and can keep your show moving forward. (In fact meeting this kind of challenge is inevitably the highlight of this kind of show--because ultimately folks are always rooting for YOU, not the track!)

Finally, while working with tape or MIDI is easy and reliable and wonderfully affordable, and certainly a charming kind of show in a small venue, it might not scale! So when your act blows up and you are playing theaters, don't let the format define you--get a great backing band!

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer park Steve AU part 29

part 1 | part 28 | ao3

“Hey,” Steve sniffles when Eddie gets home.

He has no idea what time it is, but he knows he’s been crying since Wayne left for work — the exhausted, intermittent kind that leaves him boneless and craving a nap. From the foyer Eddie’s expression pinches with concern, and Steve can’t help the little bubble of wet laughter he lets out over the sight he must make: swaddled in a blanket, tear streaks down his face, neck flopped over the back of the couch to look toward the door. And he’s surrounded by towels.

The few that Wayne managed to salvage after his temper tantrum are all hung up near the radiator, draped over shelves and the backs of chairs, and the rest are sloshing away in the washing machine. (Wayne started a fresh cycle for him before he left for work; didn’t say a word about Steve boohoo-ing like an injured toddler on the other side of the room, which kind of makes him want to cry again.)

“Welcome to your house,” Steve tries to joke, but his voice cracks, so it comes out sounding more pathetic than funny.

“Uh… hi?” Eddie speaks slowly, moves slowly, cautious as he drops his bag and toes off his sneakers. He comes to stand behind the couch.

Steve blinks up at him with another weak, watery laugh.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He bows his head to meet Steve’s gaze, eyes sharp with worry, brows drawn down, and Steve smiles just a little when Eddie’s hands reach up to touch him: sweep his hair off his forehead, cradle his face, cup his jaw. He runs his thumbs over Steve’s cheekbones, wiping at the salt tracks, and his rings rest in the hollows, his fingers drumming soothing rhythms as he chews on his next words.

Steve thinks he’s never seen something so lovely. Full lips twisted up in sympathy; secondhand heartbreak in his eyes. His hair falls around them like a curtain, like a cocoon.

He looks beautiful.

Warm.

Safe.

“...Do you wanna fuck around?”

Eddie’s hands flex against his jaw and then go still. So perfectly still, every muscle tensed, face gone horribly, carefully blank.

“Jesus,” Steve cringes at himself. He screws his eyes shut with a groan; lifts a hand to hide his face. “Oh, my god. Dude, I’m so sorry, I don’t—”

Eddie plucks Steve’s hand away. Goes back to holding his face, fingers kneading the tense muscles in Steve’s neck. Steve’s thinking that if he could just go blind right now so he never has to look up and see Eddie’s reaction, that would be so cool.

“Hey,” Eddie coaxes. “Look at me?”

Steve cracks one eye open. “Sorry,” he winces.

“S’okay,” Eddie says. Soft and simple, like it's easy, like he means it. There's a smile in his eyes, a playful quirk to his lips. “More than okay, actually; shit, that’s like, supremely fucking flattering, just, uh…"

Oh, god. Is this the part where he lets Steve down? Tells him he read this all wrong; that he let Robin witness his whole sad wet sexuality crisis for nothing?

"Feel like I missed a couple chapters on the reading assignment here, Steve,” Eddie laughs; a disbelieving little thing, his blunt nails catching on Steve's stubble. “You wanna tell me where that came from?”

“Just…”

Steve lets out a breath. Desperately wants to look away, because it’s embarrassing. What he wants.

Why he wants it.

“Last night, when you…”

"Mm. Surprised you remembered that.” His thumb drifts to the corner of Steve’s lips, traces the dip between his bottom lip and chin like he's remembering it now, too. "You were pretty fucked up."

Steve whimpers under the touch. He wants to part his lips, drop his jaw; invite Eddie to feel, to pet his thumb over his tongue and press down with two thick fingers. See how far they’ll go. Eddie makes a noise, and his hands retreat to higher ground; massaging Steve's temples, scratching lightly at his scalp. His voice is almost painfully tender when he murmurs, “No offense, but, um. You still seem a little fucked up now."

Steve nods mutely, because he can feel a rogue tear sliding sideways to his hairline, and what is there to say? It's true. He is a little fucked up now. (A lot fucked up, in fact. Kinda feels like Eddie's fingers down his throat would fix him, but he doubts Eddie would agree.)

Eddie maneuvers around the side of the couch, comes to crouch in front of Steve with his hands braced on Steve's knees. Looks up at him with wide, earnest eyes; two black moons, gravitational pull. "For the record," he intones, squeezing the meat of Steve's thigh, bringing his hand back down to Steve's kneecap with a mournful hiss of air. "I do want to. Fuck around with you, I mean, just- you know. Probably when you're not crying."

Steve huffs a quiet laugh. "You're not into that?" he jokes.

Eddie's dimple flashes. "Only when I'm the cause of it." Then it disappears again, tone serious and soft. "Do you want to talk about it?"

No. God. Not even a little bit; would honestly prefer to get another plate smashed over his head so he can forget this day ever happened. "My mom left," he croaks. He sounds fucking terrible, voice breaking and full of phlegm.

"Shit," Eddie says.

"Shit," Steve agrees.

Eddie gives him a long look — a Robin look, inquisitive and intense, like he can tear all the answers right out of Steve's head. Pluck them up like stray eyelashes; blow them away for good luck. Steve lets himself stare back, catalogs his features: all the freckles and fine lines, the pores, the vellus hair. There's a chicken pox scar just below one of his eyes, a faint silver pockmark that twists and shines in the dim light.

Eventually, Eddie must find what he's looking for because he claps Steve's knees and stands, rolling his shoulders back and down. "Yeah, sweetheart," he nods, "I got exactly what you need."

—

part 30

tag list in separate reblogs, if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic

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innerfare · 7 months ago

Text

Random Kid Headcanons

Summary: A random collection of Sir Crocodile headcanons

CW: None // SFW

———

Jams to music in his workshop. Most of the time, it’s metal. Likes pop music; would rather die than admit it. Sometimes, being on the Victoria Punk feels like being in a musical. Drums with his eating utensils at meal times. Has diverted course because he heard about a rock concert on a different island than the one his crew was initially headed for.

Pretty messy, TBH. Always has clothes strewn around his room, can never tell which ones are clean and which ones are dirty. Everything he owns has some sort of oil, grease, or lipstick stain on it. Also has lots of holes in his clothes, claims it’s grunge but really he’s just too lazy to mend them or doesn’t feel like buying replacements.

Drinks milk, orange juice, etc. straight out of the carton and puts it back in the fridge. Also dips his grimy hands into chip and trail mix bags. And if he’s cutting bread for a sandwich, he’ll do it directly on the counter; brushes his crumbs on the floor after.

Has used a steel scouring pad to get dried blood and oil off his skin before, and regularly uses dish soap to wash his hair. Thinks dishwasher soap and dish soap are the same thing, and that they’re the same thing as hand soap. Doesn’t know what fabric softener is. (If you decide to date this man, you will definitely have your work cut out for you; he’s a stray and it shows in his daily habits.)

That being said, he’s very picky about cosmetics. He only uses a certain shade of eyeliner, a certain brand of lipstick, and always uses a top coat when he paints his nails. He doesn’t, however, use makeup remover, meaning he usually wakes up with raccoon eyes.

Literally so dramatic, probably has a smoke machine somewhere on the Victoria Punk.

Has a notorious temper (as if we don’t already know). Snaps over small things. Blames others for moving his stuff because he can never keep track of anything, only to find he was the one who did it. Will never admit to being wrong. The temper can be confusing, too, because he often shows affection by making fun of people and even punching them (granted they’re strong enough to take a friendly punch). If he yells at you, he hates you, but also, if he yells at you, he loves you- oh, and he refuses to elaborate.

Uses his devil fruit powers to give members of his crew free piercings. Pierced Killer’s nipples after he (Killer) lost a bet. Has considered piercing his own nipples, thinks it would look sick.

Once accidentally drank oil instead of coffee when he was working in his workshop one night because he confused the canister for his coffee mug.

Drinks his coffee black, and not in a performative “I’m a man so I hate cream and sugar” kind of way. Genuinely enjoys his coffee black and bitter, the stronger the better.

Has the sort of mechanical brain that just has to fix things. If someone mentions a hinge is squeaking, a piece of something broke off, etc., he’s dealing with it almost immediately. Will lose track of time trying to repair things, once without realizing spent four hours trying to fix a can opener that Killer said needed to be thrown away. Has definitely taken things apart before to figure out how they work and then not put them back together because he got distracted (has undiagnosed ADHD for sure).

Smokes, but only ever late at night and when he’s alone. They’re his contemplative cigarettes, a little something to take the edge off and keep his hands occupied while the gears in his brain are turning. I.e., treats his late night cigarettes as a fidget spinner.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece eustass #captain kid #captain kid headcanons #eustass kid headcanons #eustass Kidd headcanons

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vanalex · 1 month ago

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“I decided, ‘Listen man, it’s been 17 years since we’ve been together, and I know it feels like 17 centuries, but let’s do something different. I have no ideas for this album, so let’s just go into the studio and make shit up on the spot and play it live.’ So I came up with riffs and asked the band, ‘Do you like it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Do you like it?’ ‘No.’ And any riff they said no to, that’s the riff I made the song out of.”

“I think it was more of a jam kind of thing than normal,” Silver agrees. “That’s what probably gives it its more rock roots feeling. It has more of a hard rock kind of vibe than the other records, and I think that is partially due to going back a little and writing live and falling back to more of what we did when we were 17. So we have lost any maturity we may have gained. Hard to say whether that’s good or bad.

It was just a decision. We’ve developed stuff live before, but this one was more of a live thing. The four past albums were a drum machine, and even though they were developed live, this one we just kept as a live thing. We didn’t want to polish it too much this time, not too much at all. Keep it a little more raw, but I think that’s what also made it—I hate to use this phrase—‘classic rock.’”

“It’s just because we all sat down and I came up with that riff,” Steele adds, talking about the track “An Ode To Locksmiths,” “and how that song begins, it is in four-quarter time, but the pickup to the song, the rest of the band couldn’t get it. I was beating them over the head with mic stands. It’s more riff-oriented. That’s why I feel the album has more of a live attitude. The other band members had more input into the songwriting process, which I completely ignored. They think that they contributed something—yeah right. I just play Beatles albums backwards and steal all the fucking riffs, and it’s not, ‘I buried Paul,’ it’s, ‘I buried Pete.’”

~Peter Steele and Josh Silver~

Aquarian Interview 2007 promoting the Dead Again album

#type o negative #peter steele #peter ratajczyk #josh silver #dead again #2007 #interview #aquarian weekly #magazine #peter steele interview #goth #gothic #metal #gothic metal #ton #2000s #green man #type o negative forever #💚

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yerimbrit · 9 months ago

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WWIB > 5. lunch with pretty (wc: 1.2k)

danielle grins happily as she listens to y/n explain each classroom and their respective teachers. mrs. kim and mr. park, the math teachers, mr. baek the literature teacher—the list goes on. y/n has more annoyed complaints to say about mr. song, which makes danielle giggle with her hand covering her mouth.

she notices her mentor has a hard time making eye contact with her. everyone that she's talked to is okay, but it seems it's different when it comes to danielle. it reassures her in thinking that her seatmate may already have some feelings for her too.

"mrs. kim is nice, but she keeps giving us pop quizzes," y/n gulps down the last of her pocari sweat and throws it away at the nearest recycling bin. "i don't know about mr. park but from what i've heard for eunchae—the girl who kept poking me in class today—he likes pop quizzes too."

danielle takes a sip of her strawberry milk. y/n was adamant about treating her, even if it was just the school vending machines. they finally replaced the selection with better drinks, and everyone's been swarming the machines during break according to the girl. "that's bad," she pouts, "i can't do well on tests without studying super hard; i'll have to study everyday."

y/n widens her eyes and shakes her head, finally glancing at danielle. the transfer student's eyes glimmer with genuine fear. "ah, it's not that bad! they're usually right after we review some introductory material or something like that, don't worry."

they walk through the hallways. some students stare in awe at danielle as they walk past the pair, even more so when she greets each of them with a bright smile. y/n looks like she's seconds away from either passing out or growling at the other students.

they're about to enter the cafeteria when danielle stops briefly. "you didn't have plans with your friends, did you? i know i asked if you wanted to eat lunch together but it's not too late to back out..."

y/n ponders for a moment, glancing around. "i'll... i want to eat lunch with you, it's okay. do you know anyone else here?" she slowly asks. 'she really has a permanent smile on her face,' y/n notes in her head.

"i have a friend who's a senior, but she's... busy today. i can always catch up with her later!" danielle answers easily, hoisting her backpack up to adjust it.

y/n nods and they walk into the already-bustling lunchroom. they don't bother getting in line since danielle brought her own food for today and y/n had a particularly big breakfast with haerin.

"you're not gonna eat?" danielle decides to question this decision, pulling her comically large lunchbox out of her bag, which separates into three different containers. she almost looks disappointed at the lack of food in front of her mentor. 'she's really expressive,' y/n adds to her mental note.

the girl in front of her stares in bewilderment, looking between danielle and her abundance of food that she prepared for lunch. "is that all for you?" she asks in astonishment, before quickly realizing that danielle might take it the wrong way. "i mean, not that i'm calling you-"

y/n gets cut off by the girl laughing. the sound makes her feel like she's floating, ready to ascend to whatever's up there. 'this must be heaven.'

"it's okay! i'm a big eater, i'm pretty active. i used to do track back in australia, but i had to quit because my family was moving back to korea."

the girl across from her nods in understanding, drumming her fingertips on top of the table. "you're from australia?"

"yeah! i was born there but we moved back and forth between seoul and newcastle. my mom's korean."

danielle takes the lids off of her lunchbox containers, revealing a copious amount of gimbap, some cutlery, and a whole box dedicated to a mix of cherry tomatoes and baby carrots. she gestures to the container filled with the fruits and vegetables. "want some?"

"oh," y/n's mouth forms an 'o' shape, and she picks a cherry tomato from the pile. "thank you."

the australian watches as y/n pops the fruit into her mouth with expectant eyes. "is it sweet?"

"mm, very."

"that's good! i love fruits and vegetables, i can't go a day without having them. oh, especially carrots. i love carrots," danielle rambles as she picks up a piece of her gimbap with her chopsticks and shoves it in her mouth. she repeats this until all of her lunch is gone, before y/n can even blink.

"hey loser," eunchae sets her tray down on the table, taking a seat next to y/n. "hi danielle!"

danielle flashes a huge grin and waves, recognizing the girl as the person that y/n was talking about earlier. "hello! eunchae...?"

"big baby..." y/n mutters under her breath. unfortunately for her, eunchae hears it and pinches her on the side. they side-eye each other.

then, as if nothing happened, she turns back to danielle with a friendly expression. "that's right! yunjin-unnie told me lots about you."

this turns out to be something that danielle didn't expect, because she lets out a loud gasp. "you know yunjin-unnie!?"

y/n curses at eunchae in her head.

the two get wrapped up in an exciting conversation about yunjin and how they know her, and also getting to know each other in the process. danielle, yunjin, and another girl named yuna grew up together, and they still keep in touch even now. they keep each other updated on almost every detail of their lives while danielle is away, and also exchanging small pieces of gossip.

eunchae's older sister, chaewon, is close friends with the musician, and she describes them as a "budding situationship" before she laughs it off and changes to a different subject. internally, y/n takes back the curses she directed to the younger girl as she also got to know the pretty girl better through their interaction.

two figures approach their table and eunchae and danielle's conversation is put on pause in order to see who arrived.

"ah, finally!" y/n stands up, moving her bag so the student council power couple could sit. "you took forever."

"danielle," eunchae starts, pointing to the girls that had just settled down in their seats with a lunchbox that the secretary packed. "this is hanni-unnie and minji-unnie, our very own student council secretary and president. guys, this is danielle, the new transfer."

"wow! it's so nice to meet you! i didn't know y/n-ssi was so connected."

"it's very nice to meet you, danielle," hanni states, making a face at y/n, who flips her off while the bright girl isn't looking.

the rest of the girls finish their lunch, with some taking their share of danielle's offered tomatoes and carrots (minji made a face, though no one except hanni and y/n noticed), and soon lunch was over. y/n's face pales at the bell.

she still has class with the new girl in two periods.

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taglist: @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @nnewjeansstuff @airice @yeetaberry127 @multiliker @saysirhc @shozeu @nwjnsloona @hannienthusiast @hotluvlet @gayforalll @technicallyimportantsweets @jeindall777 @popasi @gtfoiydlyj

#newjeans x reader #danielle marsh x reader #kang haerin x reader #newjeans smau #WWIB smau

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pancake-breakfast · 2 months ago

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Finished Day 5 of Disco Elysium.

Now that the autopsy has been completed and Kim is back, the case is moving forward en force, so we're definitely getting into spoiler territory here.

Talked with Kim about the bullet. They make a very sound argument for only allowing front-loading guns in civilian populations. That includes for law enforcement.

Rene passed away. I'm actually kinda sad about that. I gave his friend the old photograph I stole from Rene's guardbooth. I did not steal his uniform.

Painted the wall with the message, "Something beautiful is going to happen." Dunno if it will, but we can hope.

Kim was unimpressed. Spoilsport.

That also marked the second time Cindy gave me something out of sheer pity.

Talked to Klaasje about the murder. Hoo boy, I could write an essay on my interactions with her today. The short version is I actually trust her a lot less now. She's worked in corporate espionage, and I suspect that's actually what she bonded with the victim over, given he had also ruined a lot of lives for pay. (I... have very mixed feelings on corporate espionage and will not be expounding on them in this post.) But I do think she feels bad about all that's happened, and that on some level, she cared for the victim more than one generally would for "just a fling."

I appreciate the way they approached the false rape charges. In my own research, I've found that that sort of charge is very, very rarely drummed up by individuals. Considering the victimizer is almost always someone socially connected to the victim, even when it's true, it can really muck with social circles, and most people aren't willing to explode their social circle for wrongs they think are done solely to themselves. Or, you know, just out of fear that they'll lose part or all of said social circle. The cops, on the other hand, frequently create false narratives around these sorts of things and then actively circulate them, as it discourages anyone from standing up for the person they're victimizing. After all, most people don't want to defend a potential rapist, and if the authority is saying they have "reason to believe" that's what happened, well, it's not like any of us knows all of what happens in another person's life, and it's MUCH more difficult to prove an absence of a thing than fake its presence. And we've already established in game that the Hardie Boys are basically the cops for this area. Basically, the devs did their research and it shows, and this sort of story needs to be told more often because not enough people are aware of it.

I managed to get in cahoots with Cuno. I think this is a good thing, but I'm not placing any bets right now. The world is too much of a freaking powderkeg.

I found a pinball machine!

I also found out you can regain morale by hugging a plushie, which seems pretty legit.

I miiiight have managed to die twice trying the same conversation. What really made me worry, though, is my actions also got Kim killed. New Fear Unlocked: Getting Kim killed and living to know about it.

The fact that I haven't tracked down the last of the mercenaries yet worries me. 2/3 isn't good enough when they're trying to start a war.

Did karaoke. Sang a little song about a little church.

Had to submit to working with Evrart again to find my gun. Words cannot describe how much I dislike working with that guy. He's the type to take good things and turn them into shit because it's profitable for him, and he'll somehow have half the people he's fucking over thanking him as he does it.

Which reminds me, I did hit the only point in the game thus far where I've very much been like, "But what if the other option...?" And that was talking with Joyce about Evrart's plans. As a cop, it was 100% my duty to take a step back and say the choices she made based on that knowledge were hers to make, but as a private citizen? I want to encourage her to cut the head off the snake. The one thing that kept me from going back and redoing that dialog (at least) was the thought of the power vacuum. It's already established that he trades power off with his twin brother, so I have no reason to think the brother wouldn't just weasel in there unless she could off them both. Even then, that's less likely to result in a win for her than it is to result in, say, the Hardie Boys or (shudder) Measurehead filling the gap, and I'm honestly not sure the Hardie Boys are business savvy enough for the position. After all, they've already demonstrated they have a bit of a weak point when it comes to underestimating women, and as much as they might think of themselves as "better than cops," if they had that kind of power, they might find themselves having to strong-arm control. I still don't know if that would be better or worse than Evrart. I don't think anyone does. On top of that, I highly doubt it would result in a win for Joyce, and she may be crazy, but she's not stupid, so I'm not sure I could get her to bite. She probably made the best choice I could hope for by giving up and backing down. It should (theoretically) limit some of the bloodshed.

I'm actually on decent terms with the Hardie Boys now. I don't think they like me, but we've developed a mutual respect. I knew there was a chance we could get here when Hardie himself gave me that key, no questions asked, despite his men razzing me about it. It was... a peace offering of sorts, I think. Or maybe a "take whatever you're hoping to get here and get the fuck out" offering, but that's close enough for me. It's the one time I didn't press for any additional details about something. They told me what they knew about the key later freely and with ease. I didn't need to interrogate them when I got it.

Aside from hitting and passing a Point of No Return with Joyce, I found the Point of No Return trying to hunt down Ruby. I had to back off of it, as I didn't have my gun. I hadn't even sung karaoke yet. We'll try and follow her in the morning.

The hat that automatically makes you more communist amuses me.

I made a lot of progress with the druggies by the church. I still haven't got them into the church, but we're buds and I've been helping Egghead make a good track. It's what Harry would want to do.

Did I teleport to the top of a building? Kim says no, but I think he just lacks a certain amount of imagination.

I found a book that healed my morale! That's a nice change from all the books hurting.

For the first time in who knows how long, Harry got a good night's sleep. That's been a bit of a goal of mine since starting the game, so I'm glad it's accomplished. Hopefully, the lost time won't screw up my search for Ruby too much....

#harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #spoilers #pancake plays

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ultrakdramamama · 23 days ago

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The singer begins his first North American tour on April 24th, and over the past year, has released the most freewheeling music of his career.

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of Onew’s new music is just how much fun he’s having.

Across two EPs released over the past year, titled “FLOW” and “CONNECTION” respectively, Onew has created the most versatile music of his career. On the high energy 2024 comeback single “Beat Drum”, off of “FLOW”, he even breaks into a short rap. “Play it loud!” he commands and, if you’re a good listener, you’ll turn it up.

The EPs mark an exciting turn for the singer. After nearly two decades with the K-Pop giant SM Entertainment, where he led the legendary group SHINee, Onew chose to terminate his contract in 2024 and sign with a newly established label, Griffin Entertainment. Almost immediately he began releasing music and charting out an ambitious plan to reintroduce himself to audiences.

The rapid release of “FLOW” and “CONNECTION” come with an end goal for the singer. The new music is propelling Onew into his first North American solo tour, “The Live: CONNECTION”, which kicks off April 24th in New York. The tour will bring Onew to eight cities across the U.S., including Los Angeles, Houston, Dallas and San Francisco. Three days before opening night, he will release his first English language track “MAD”, something that I never expected to hear from the singer. All of this reflects an ambition and energy far greater than we’ve ever seen from Onew as a soloist.

Longtime SHINee fans might recall the group performing in the U.S. throughout the early and mid-2010s, but Onew’s tour has been long overdue. He is a singular talent and a force on stage. His skills as a performer are more sly than SHINee teammate Taemin, who owns the stage with almost brute force – but Onew is still wildly compelling. Watch, for example, one of my favorite SHINee performances of “Why So Serious?” from 2017 and you’ll see how he captures the song’s camp energy with giddiness.

But what I’ve found most exciting about the music Onew has released under Griffin Entertainment is just how freewheeling it sounds.

You can sense Onew’s freedom most clearly in his lyrics, which have never been this sharp or expressive. Throughout “FLOW”, Onew emphasizes that he has no master plan and no idea where his feet will land. He emphasizes spontaneity and pleasure: “When I suddenly think of it, I call to say hello,” he sings on “Hola!”.

When he’s at his most compelling, though, Onew is drawing distinctions between his current life and the past twenty years. “Maestro”, one of my favorite b-sides from “FLOW”, compares the constrictions of his past to being in a glass cage. Now, free to explore an endless ocean (SHINee’s color, it should be noted, is blue), Onew sings, “I wanna play without sheet music/ I can do whatever I want.”

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of Onew’s new music is just how much fun he’s having.

But what I’ve found most exciting about the music Onew has released under Griffin Entertainment is just how freewheeling it sounds.

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of Onew’s new music is just how much fun he’s having.

But what I’ve found most exciting about the music Onew has released under Griffin Entertainment is just how freewheeling it sounds.

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of Onew’s new music is just how much fun he’s having.

But what I’ve found most exciting about the music Onew has released under Griffin Entertainment is just how freewheeling it sounds.

On “Boy”, a b-side from “CONNECTION”, Onew’s lyrics turn playful and nostalgic:

“I don’t mind eating anything/ Well, except for cucumbers/ When I grow up, I’ll probably get sick of it/ Stocking up on snacks like a rebel/ Still the same boy/ Writing in my journal before bed.”

Squint and you could likely see these qualities in Onew’s music when he was signed to SM Entertainment. But in retrospect, Onew was never given the creative freedom to be as daring as he is now. This was likely because of the role SM slotted Onew in as leader of a massive K-Pop group. Maturity and level-headedness came with the image. When his solo debut eventually came around in 2018, Onew was still grieving the death of SHINee member Jonghyun who passed away one year prior. “VOICE”, his first mini-album, was released just a few weeks shy of Onew’s mandatory military service. The EP’s mood was, understandably, somber.

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But perhaps what SM got wrong about Onew as a soloist is that he is actually a brilliant pop star. His voice can fit almost any genre but he’s most compelling when he’s having fun. Take “FLOW” b-side “Focus”, for example, which begins as a standard alt-rock track before ripping open midway through to an explosion of synths. As Onew leaps into a string of falsettos, he sounds as joyful as I’ve ever heard him.

Where Onew is most exacting is when he analyzes his own life. “Yay”, the funky closer to “CONNECTION”, is full of biting lyrics about isolation and his fears. He calls himself a “reclusive loner” and insists, “I can stay by myself all day long.”

But bubbling underneath the surface is a longing to challenge himself and to try something different. “I want to keep going this way/ So I can change,” he sings and adds, “I want to try anything.”

As I listened to “Yay”, and watched the single’s terrifically zany video, I thought of Onew’s career. As a shy, humble teenager, he was chosen to lead a boy group that eventually became one of the most popular groups in K-Pop. Before he reached thirty, he buried a best friend and served in the military. Six months after the death of Jonghyun, SHINee returned with “The Story of Light” and a series of concerts that felt too soon and too raw. When he returned from the military, he seemed quieter and fragile. In messages on bubble, an app that lets idols communicate with fans, he would talk about how introverted he felt.

But by the end of “Yay”, Onew seems to have made peace with his past. At 35, it’s never too late to start again. So he shouts with a wild joy, “I’m happy!” And for the first time, I believe him.

Written By Michael H ~ thebiaswrecker.com

#SHINee #Onew #Jinki #Lee Jinki #FLOW #CONNECTION #thebiaswrecker.com/#Onew The Live: Connection in USA #Youtube

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aeroburning · 20 days ago

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Hi there! :)

Is there any theme song or piece of music that you like in particular from the X Series?

I was waiting for someone to ask something music related. I have a list.

But let's pick a few of my favorites. Keep in mind, I don't know anything about music theory, so this is all vibes and presentation based. There's also no real order that I'm going with on this, so bear with it. Opening Stage (X) - Mega Man X4

We're starting off strong here. One of the definitive X themes in the series. It does such a great job of framing X's character and the humble determination that he always expresses. The song is hopeful but grounded-- with high synth tones and a banging bassline. I think it does an excellent job of showing the vulnerability of X but also a rising confidence that assures the player that this is the guy who has saved the world-- he just has to always prove it himself each time he does it. It's so X, and I love it. Morph Moth - Mega Man X2

Underrated Mega Man X theme in my opinion, Morph Moth's stage hits you hard with a crash, alongside a grungy synth with an industrial vibe. It's a perfect mix that sets the tone of the stage super well. The low bass line alongside the drums almost kinda syncs with the scrapped Reploids that kinda sputter along towards you. Everything here moves slow and with a tick, and the song feels like a metronome for the whole stage. Super cool song that does an excellent job of selling the fact you're walking through the equivalent of a body pit for Reploids, but the tempo keeps you moving so you don't dwell on it. Armored Armadillo - Mega Man X

This is one of the most fun tracks in the entire series. It's so good. The drums are literally pushing you forward, everything about this stage is going fast. The tones and melody keep you having a blast even though you're running for your life from a death machine or barreling through the mines on a runaway cart. There's no point in this stage that the action stops, with the breaks between the mine cart only acting as briges for even more chaos. The music encourages you to run fast and use your reflexes, allowing it to be one of the best gimmick stages in the entire series. So good. Crash Site Ruins (International) - Mega Man X6

Now for something a little slower. Crash Site Ruins is BLEAK, and it should be. Such a great way to sell the fact that the world has literally come to an end. The horns in between the chorus does a great job of selling the scope of the damage, it feels like a widespread tragedy-- and that's because it is. The International version in particular does a great job adding a little flavor between segments from the guitar riffs. To me, it adds a little bit of action to the vibe of the song because at the end of the day, it is an action game. However, the riff doesn't overstay its welcome or overpower, it's just there to remind you. X is alone at the start of X6, and this theme reflects that. However, the synth, while bleak, also sounds a little bit hopeful? Like even though things have gotten this bad, because you have X here-- maybe things will be okay. It's one of my favorites. Gravity Beetle (PS1 - Arranged) - Mega Man X3

I'm a little surprised myself, here. I normally DO NOT vibe with the PS1 OST of Mega Man X3, but this one snuck up on me. I don't really know what it is, but the SNES version of this song feels like its missing something. I found myself always listening to remixes of this song because it's got a the fixings of a great Mega Man X song, but the original just falls flat for me. The PS1 version, while sounding a little more upbeat, fixes it for me. The song feels more complete, and it's a song that doesn't really overstay its welcome on repeat listens. It's rising action is so fun, everything is building up to the climax that we all know. And the slight deviations this version adds to the mix just feel so fun and inspired compared to a song that felt half finished for the SNES version. That's it for now though! Sorry if I can't get into the nitty gritty, but I did my best with what my heart told me. I'd love to do this again and delve outside of the SNES and PS1 era of songs.

#mega man x #rockman x #megaman #rockman #megaman x #mmx music #mmx #mmx2 #mmx3 #mmx4 #mmx6 #megaman music #mega man x music

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ostensiblynone · 1 month ago

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It’s Getting Better: The Sawmills Sessions

Interview by David Huggins. Answers Anjali Dutt, recording engineer on Oasis' Definitely Maybe. Oasis Recording Info, 2011

23 FEB-4 MARCH 1994 Sawmills Studios Cornwall [dates sourced from Melody Maker | 1st October 1994 issue]

Could you give a rough outline of what a typical day in the studio with Oasis was like at that time: what time they started work, how long it took to set up, how many takes per song etc. (something like ‘A Day in the life of Anjali at Sawmills…’ if possible!) A day in my life was remarkably boring because no one ever got up. And when they did they just hogged the TV or played pool and then drifted off never to be found again. I got quite bored; I was an early riser and had acres of day to potter around for before I actually had anything to do. I like to wander and explore, and started taking my new fancy sports car out for jaunts to explore bits of the Cornish countryside. Bonehead was a bit older than the others and a bit worldlier; he had a car, a house and a girlfriend, and I think he once came with me to the car wash just to get out of the cabin. The others seemed insecure away from their natural urban habitats and hid in their bedrooms like little kids, which is what I suppose they were.

Very late into the evening we would start the first round up of trying to assemble the band but inevitably someone would be missing and by the time we found him, someone else would be gone. When the miraculous moment occurred when everyone was in the studio space at the same time ready to play, we would just slam the tape machine into record and capture everything. I am not sure that we didn’t use 15ips so that we wouldn’t lose precious time changing the reels.

Then the whole band would expire and evaporate back up to the living area, we would have a little moratorium (mainly about the rigour of the drumming) and call it a night. The drumming wasn’t actually that bad but it was inconsistent and he did come out of every roll at a completely new speed. I had spent years in the eighties working with Mutt Lange on mega rock productions so could be really OCD and anal about the whole topic of timing. However for some reason I felt that the predominant reasons for disliking the drum tracks were personal rather than musical and there was always endless cussing in the background that I tend to associate with boys of that age.

Once the tracks were down it was a lot easier as the overdubs only required locating one person at a time. Liam always sang like a bird, usually one take, no drop ins, you could comp a vocal using whole verses and choruses from each take; there was no need for intricate surgery to repair tuning. There were no tuning problems; it was just a case of preferring one interpretation or intonation over another. Being a pianist, I tried to help Bonehead with the piano part on Digsy’s Dinner but he knew what he was doing and was really very adept. Noel was often around just generally enjoying being around musical stuff in the studio. He is actually quite a fine drummer you know, but very tidy in a new wave sort of way. Liam does very ‘in time’ tambourine too, a surprisingly hard thing to do.

#anjali dutt #I just want to hear everything she has to say always #the secret hero of Definitely Maybe #oasis #definitely maybe #no one ever got up in the morning! they hid in their bedrooms like little kids!#her account is so different from the 'accepted' version of these recording sessions #sounds like they did endless amounts of herding cats to get this album recorded

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bisnes-socks · 6 months ago

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i said i might do more in depth thoughts of stephanie and so i did.

the first post was a bit rushed but many of the points very much still stand, this post i guess is just trying to make the same points a bit better and deeper. so idk how much of a musical analysis this is, and how much i'm just trying to put vibes and feelings into words, but here goes.

i said in the first post how i like that the structure isn't the usual verse chorus verse chorus - well, actually it kind of is that, but the chorus doesn't feel like an obvious chorus, because they only play it twice and it's not the same those times. there is almost a pre-chorus like feeling to it, and then the song ends in what could have been a bridge, if the song was longer. this song to me feels like a part of something bigger, and that's why i'm super excited to hear in the context of the full album. with that being said, i still think it works super well on its own as well, i really love the vibes.

the early 2000's brit rock and indie rock influence, such as arctic monkeys or black kids, is still quite obvious to me, but so is the 80's influence as well, like orchestral manoeuvers in the dark was the first one that came to my mind. then again, the 80's influence on early 2000's brit rock and indie rock in general is also pretty obvious, so i think influences in music in general should always be seen as a spectrum, rather than fixed, separate points. everything is always influenced by things that came before it, and what we can name as an influence on something will always depend on where we've heard a specific style or flavour or spice in music first.

it's a different sound than what we've heard from them before. i don't know if this makes any sense to anyone other than myself, but to me, the sound on this song is the sound of a collective more than the sound of the band. what i mean by that is that there are so many elements in the song that are not straight forward band instruments, or instruments that are in their usual line up. this sound is produced by five professinal musicians working as a collective, rather than five band members playing their respective instruments simultaniously. does that make any sense? i don't know, but it's how i feel - like there could be more people on this song than there are. but i think the best songs always do sound like all of the people who made it, not just one or two.

like i said in my first post, the drums are super interesting in this one. the drum machineness of it all, the super 80's style drum fills, the percussive details of little pings and pangs that decorate the track, that's all something that hasn't been super typical in pop or rock music recently, and harkens back to the 70's, 80's and also the early 2000's indie scene. it's super interesting to listen to, and i can genuenly recommend taking the time to listen to the track a couple of times focusing on just the drums and percussion.

in fact, i'd recommend listening to the track (this track and honestly just songs in general) several times, always choosing a different instrument or element to focus on, because there is a lot of cool stuff going on in this song! vocals and lyrics often take the main focus, but i always find it worth it to carefully listen beyond the lyrics.

the drum parts are also just genuenly fun. the drums and the bass make it a very dancable song, which again, it's both very 80's and very early 2000's to make super bop-y, dancable songs with sad or dark lyrics. the contrast is quite yummy to me. it also brings a vibe to the song i really really love. it reminds me of a quote about movies, about how drama movies should always have a little bit of comedy in them, because that's how real life is. there is always always both light and dark, sadness and happiness present in everything. crying and laughing all at once. that's the vibe of the song to me, and it's brilliant.

the song has so many layers to it, it's honestly brilliantly mixed: there's something happening in almost every direction, every distance, so to speak. and so many different synth sounds! sharp strikes here, notes held there, runs here, backround walls there. take a moment to find them all, it's super rewarding and again, genuenly fun!

the vocal delivery is also a cool contrast with the musical aspects. the voice doesn't convey a lot of emotion, on purpose i think. he sounds a bit numb and detached, and the music being so whimsical with all of its details and decorations, it's just a really cool juxtaposition.

and at the end, repeating the lines about love and happiness not being built for people like me, with the guitar playing the same melody, when the vocal line and the guitar line go out of sync and he starts repeating the lines to a different rythm, i think it highlights the juxtaposition even more, it's like.. it's like he's not even listening to the whimsy of the music anymore, but getting carried away in his own head by the lines. and repeating them in an almost monotoe way.. i just think it's a brilliant way to deliver the emotion behind the lyric.

but the song ends in the major key whimsical runs on the keyboard with a very fun percussion rythm, and so i think ultimately the mood left behind by the song is quite positive. it's melancholic sure, a bit angsty yes, but at the same time it's not a depressing feeling.

like i don't know how else to put it, but the whole song is like. everything is going to shit in your life, but you're on a walk and the leaves are super pretty colours and the weather is just perfect, and you breathe in fresh air and it's like. yeah everything is kinda fucked but right in this moment, right at this minute, it's all kind of.. okay. and for a split second you can imagine a future where things are less shit. where maybe happiness and love are built for people like you.

#joker out #double feature today with music analysis posts

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