#NY DEATH METAL

[slashdementia7734]

FUCKIN' IMMO.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Type O Negative - I Don't Wanna Be Me

[traintrainingmontage]

CW: Engine Death, Mourning

I know that people have written about this before, but...

Could you imagine being Duke, and being found by the Thin Clergyman, and then having this whole book written about your past, including your colleague Stanley/Smudger, and coming to the horrifying realization that, after asking about his fate, nobody knew the answer? And after people on the Skarloey Railway get to digging (because this is a railway that would NEVER let the abandonment of an engine stand), they find out that he's likely STILL down in the mine at Cas-ny-Hawin, never rescued the way Duke was.

It's absolutely gut-wrenching because as they go through the records, it's written that after he broke down in late 1946, the flooding was what caused the mine to close in 1947, and in the records, he's blamed for everything. Every misfortune, laid at Stanley's (tragically metaphorical) wheels. Duke is understandably betrayed and upset, and when Sir Handel Brown hears, he decides he's going to do something about it.

A team is assembled. Fortunately, unlike with how Duke was found, they actually know where he's likely to be, and the excavation begins. The Fat Controller gives his blessing, allowing the use of some of the engines on the Little Western to help the teams out. The Thin Controller and the Foreman personally go down there several times themselves, knowing how worried their beloved engines are.

They finally find him, and... well. Perhaps mercifully, he's gone. Likely died some time ago, from the look of it, although his passing wasn't peaceful. The metal of his body is incredibly rusty, sharp and jagged like claws. With cranes and carts they bring out his remains, into the sun. They then cover him with a tarp, and with all the formality and sobriety of a funeral procession, bring him back to the Skarloey Railway.

Once Stanley is taken from the flatbed and a mournful Douglas has departed, there's a sharp intake of breath from Duke, who had insisted on waiting for news (who insisted on waiting whenever he possibly could, every time the team set out, and if not him, Sir Handel or Peter Sam), tears in his eyes as he finally sees what had become of Stanley.

Finally, the Thin Controller asks Duke what he wants to do. Duke is utterly nonplussed by this; what is being asked, here? And the Thin Controller elaborates: he meant the most to you, Duke, so what should we do with him? It's a bit unorthodox, but they could bury him properly, and return him to the earth. They could clean him up (or not) and preserve him. They could scrap him. But in this, the choice is up to Duke, the only form of apology they can think of, even though it's hardly their fault.

Duke swallows, and then rolls forward, as if taking a closer look. "Do you..." he begins slowly, then lets it go, as if afraid to speak. His eyes meet those of the Thin Controller, and they're not like the manager of the Mid-Sodor's eyes. They see Duke as Duke, the railway's newest friend and colleague, not as their grunt. The difference is astounding.

"Do you... think that any bit of him is still usable?" he asks solemnly, and the Thin Controller hums and looks over to the Foreman. Mr. Hugh runs his eyes over Stanley's frame, his gaze aloof and professional, and nods.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then..." Duke almost mumbles, but forces himself to speak up. "Please... could you... find a use for him? If you melt him down, could you... turn him into something really useful? He deserves that much, especially after never truly getting the chance."

The Foreman is quiet for a moment before he smiles and nods at the old engine. "Yes. I promise you, Duke---Stanley here will have a new lease on life, or at least as much as I can give him."

"Thank you, Sir," Duke replies tiredly, and backs up, not saying another word as Stanley's remains are hauled onto another flatbed and taken to the back of Crovan's Gate.

--------

As soon as Duke lays eyes on the railway's newest engine, Ivo Hugh, he wills himself not to sob. He'd asked about Stanley's remains before, over the years, and only in the past couple of years was he told that the Hughs and the other engineers at Crovan's Gate were planning to use him for something that they were working on in their spare time. Part of him thinks this can't possibly be what they'd used Stanley for, but a warm-hearted glance from David Hugh, who has taken up his father's mantle, makes his breath catch in his pipes.

Stanley has been reborn, in a form more glorious and wonderful than ever, and now he'll truly have a chance at being a really useful engine.

Despite his best efforts, tears start falling down Duke's face. As he struggles to hide them, David Hugh quietly walks over. "Pop and I worked pretty hard on 'em," the Foreman says conversationally, almost casually. "Fred was our first success, so we decided it was about time to make good on that promise."

Duke gives him a watery smile, not trusting himself to speak, but the Foreman understands, and gives him a wide smile in return. "You're family, and we do right by family. Show 'im the ropes, Duke," he grins, giving the old engine a familiar pat before walking away.

Duke takes a deep breath, and rolls forward, meeting the sparkling, curious gaze of the new engine with that of his own. Unbeknownst even to himself, a smile stretches its way across his face--one of relief, and one of regrets no longer lingering.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, young engine. You may call me Duke."

[vodkaandsnakes]

On this day, July 18, in Type O Negative history:

Type O Negative play the New Titans on the Block Tour with Sepultura, Sacred Reich, Biohazard, Leeway, White Zombie, and Napalm Death at The Ritz in New York, NY. The Drab Four fill in for Sick Of It All, who are not able to perform on this particular date of the tour. Although not as well-known as the rival Clash of the Titans Tour, the New Titans Tour helps gain important exposure for the next branch of the flourishing heavy metal family tree (1991)

Type O Negative play the Jones Beach Amphitheater with Queensryche in Wantagh, NY (1995)

Type O Negative play the Forestglade Festival in Wiesen, Austria (1997) {The hills are alive with the sound of ...ecstatic screams..?}

If today is your birthday, you share your special day with former Type O Negative percussionist Sal Abruscato! Happy Birthday to you and to Sal!

[metalhead-brainrot]

Radio Brainrot - 2024.10.30

ambient dungeon synth || 2024 || Serpent's Sword Records

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

desert rock || 2024 || Heavy Psych Sounds

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

death metal, hardcore || NY || 2024 || Redefining Darkness Records

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Ulna

Adam Schubert is a veteran of Chicago’s lo-fi, psych rock scene, as part of Café Racer, Ruins (not the Japanese noise outfit) and now the solo project Ulna. Jennifer Kelly called Gazebo, his second record under that name, “slack and wistful and beautiful, a lo-fi concoction of idle strums and slurry poetry.” Here he lists some of the songs that made him.

Broadcast — “Tender Buttons”

The Velvet Underground inspired guitar and the haunted vocals of Trish Keenan have always made this song a favorite of mine. Broadcast’s music consistently inspires me, especially the drone/noise elements of their arrangements.

Glyders — “Geneva Strangemod”

One of the best rock and roll bands I have ever heard. Perfect tones, perfect drums, perfect guitar and bass lines. Genuinely encapsulates 1960s rock with touches of modernity. For fans of pure rock bliss.

Sharp Pins — “Every Time I Hear”

Guitarist from Lifeguards side project is well tuned, Guided by Voices-inspired pop rock. Great arrangements and catchy hooks blend with the tasteful lo-fi production of this amazing band.

Don Caballero — “Let’s Face It Pal, You Didn’t Need That Eye Surgery”

The way Ian Williams played guitar in this band changed my life. I never heard anyone create the sounds that I heard in my own head, and this band inspired me to loop guitar lines to create massive sounds. The ending of this song is very important to me.

Bnny — “Ambulance”

My sister Jessica always writes some of the best songs I’ve ever heard, but this song has been a favorite of mine since I first heard her play it. We recorded this at Jamdek in Chicago. I played bass while Jessica played guitar and sang. We had to do a few takes to get the right one, but the chorus made me cry every time we played it. Even after playing over and over again. The reference she makes to another song of hers in the chorus just proves to me that she is one of the best around.

The Velvet Underground — “Sister Ray”

One of my favorite songs of all time. Pretty much everything I could say about this song and this band has been said a million times over. Just a nasty, pure rock groove that goes on forever… like it should.

Sonic Youth — “Death Valley ’69 (Live)”

This version is my favorite of this no wave classic from the NY pioneers. Recorded at Smart Bar in Chicago in 1995. Original version features Lydia Lunch on vocals during the middle section of the song. Just raw power to jam out to.

Built to Spill — “Stab”

One of my favorite bands and one of my favorite songs by them. It’s like if Neil Young wrote an indie/emo song, I think, you’d get this. Goes from classic indie rock to metal seamlessly.

Modest Mouse — “Cowboy Dan”

This song has always had a special place in my heart. The aggression that leads to quiet reflection, then back again to aggression is a great way of showing how anger can lead to sadness… then back again and again.

Nirvana — “Milk It”

First band I got into without the help of my mom. I was obsessed with them at a time where dressing like a grunge rocker was lame and uncool. This song was a favorite of mine and, honestly, it still is. Because it was produced by Steve Albini, I ended up getting into his stuff which led the way to Touch and Go records. Proves how something obvious can lead to obscure sounds that can be very exciting.

[lpvncnt]

* ◟ : 〔 TAMINO , CIS-MALE + HE / HIM 〕 PHILIP GOFFIN-VINCENT , some say you’re a TWENTY-SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both DOGGED and DEPRAVED, one can’t help but think of STRUGGLIN' by TRICKY, MARTINA TOPLEY-BIRD when you walk by. are you still a CLEANER, ACTIVE ASSASSIN at THE BORDERLINE HOTEL, RED EYE even with your reputation as THE GARGOYLE? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and STUPID SHOW-PONY HIGH ROLLER, PATIENT LIKE THE HYENA WAITS, GET IN YOUR CAR AND RUN ME OVER INSTEAD OF WAITING FOR OTHERS TO DO IT FOR YOU, YOU LAZY FOOL, although we can’t help but think of JONATHAN CRANE (DC COMICS) + ERIC DRAVEN (THE CROW) + JASON DEAN (HEATHERS) + ANTON CHIGURH (NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

FILE: LIP VINCENT

STATUS: ACTIVE. HEIGHT: 6'2". SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL, AROMANTIC. DATE OF BIRTH: 12/25/1995 HOMETOWN: MALMEDY, BELGIUM. RESIDING: BROOKLYN, NY. ROOMMATE WITH [TBD WANTED CONNECTION].

Instead of the usual biography, I felt like the following poem captured the energy of the past a bit better than I could ever express:

INSOMNIAC

THE night is only a sort of carbon paper,

Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars

Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --

A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.

Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus

He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness

Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie

Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days

Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,

Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,

A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.

His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.

Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --

How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!

Those sugary planets whose influence won for him

A life baptized in no-life for a while,

And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.

Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.

Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.

Each gesture flees immediately down an alley

Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance

Drains like water out the hole at the far end.

He lives without privacy in a lidless room,

The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open

On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats

Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.

Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,

Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.

The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,

And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,

Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

— Sylvia Plath

AESTHETICS

Repugnant amount of weed smoke filling a suspension-lacking 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, that only a 100% masochist would drive in New York. You were not born to cry. Leopard print BB belts stacked on the waist. A soul, emptied. No pride, no pleasure, no desire. Life is just like a Wong Kar-Wai movie. You've got two fists comically full of metal, the weight shifts you off your feet when that punch is thrown, your poorly welded home-made 'rings' -- made from a chunk of all the old silver jewelry you've collected from the bodies over time, all these precious keepsakes melted onto a fork -- made to hurt -- should be illegal. Lots of little projects like that scatter what you call 'home'. An angel dies every time a shitty fuckboy like you flashes his mid-section in local Bodega for no reason. Recently adopted a Belgian Malinois, Osiris, who is still in training and needs a muzzle (an excuse for enabling bad behavior, could be symbolic). Egregiously loud mumble-rap. When stressed, likes watching ballroom dancing while chainsmoking cigarettes.

Hi, I'm Samuel, 24, PDT, a sweet little Californian baby boy who will do tricks for treats, gee whiz am I glad to be here. All of this is a bit vague but will be fleshed out with time -- if you've got any questions on specifics I'd be super happy to clarify. Huzzah !

[whickerfurniture]

If you had to, say, come up with adaptations of each of your characters where they're in their mid-to-late-twenties and living in or near an offbeat, woodsy little college town outside of Seattle with a bustling alternative art scene and a lot of options for them to live in anything from luxury homes to super affordable apartments, how would you picture each of them existing? Would Catherine still be in her parents' home, watching her siblings? Would Ruby settle down there for a live among more down-to-earth and eccentric party people instead of the LA elite, and would her family approve of her being stationed somewhere besides NY and LA? Would Serena have any interest in investigating the weird cult-like degenerate activity going on in the local underground metal scene? Would Constance have fled there from the rural south, or is her home just a drive away in rural Washington? 👀 Feel free to go on forever if you want to describe their living arrangements and if they grew up there or moved there or what their day-to-day lives are like or where they work and if they went to that nearby Arts/STEM hybrid university that's maybe named Mt. Rainier. :-)

This ended up longer than I anticipated. I'm not putting it under a read more >:-)

Ruby, after years of intensive therapy, finally realised that nothing good was coming from living so close to her family. It was dysfunctional at best, and toxic at worst, and the main thing was she didn’t even like them. There was nothing for her in LA, and she put some of her worst tendencies down to the crippling boredom and the easy access(they’re a coping mechanism, but she hasn’t done enough therapy or honest reflection to realise that). So, what dies she do? She calls up her old friend Max, wanting to know what she’s up to. Because Max can do no wrong, in Ruby’s eyes. When she mentions the town outside of Seattle, she’s convinced it will fix all her problems. Of course, in moving away, she found the one place where her mothers more out there movies were discussed. Even in death, she will never be able to escape Grace Kane’s presence. She still drinks, but not as heavily. Instead of getting black out drunk multiple times a week, she’s a low level of tipsy all the time. Ruby tells herself that it’s fine. She’s better than she was in her wild party days, so that means she can continue. She found a studio apartment, though, with big windows and a little balcony and she picks up a paint set and canvas one day, because she’s actually pretty good. And if she lives within walking distance of Max, one of the few people that she loves to the point of wanting to be better, well… That’s just a coincidence. She doesn’t work, because she doesn’t need to, but everything’s paid for. Her parents are just happy that she’s not being a public fuck up anymore.

Constance goes to college. She’s the first in her family to even apply, pushed by the guidance councillor who thinks it would be a good idea for her to get away from the small town, where she’ll always be known as the girl who came back. Her parents hate it, from the first minute she broaches the subject. They lost her once, and her moving to Seattle feels like they’re losing her again. It’s so far away, and she’s so… Delicate is the word they use. Weak is the word she hears. They’re scared college is going to change her into someone they don’t recognise, even further from the girl she’d once been. They insist she finds a church to attend while she’s there. She tried the closest baptist church, but it didn’t feel right, so she stopped, but didn’t tell them. The verses aren’t the same without the oppressive heat and the fear of God. She graduates, but her social work degree sits on a shelf, unused. She considers going back, but she thinks she’s just punishing herself. So, she stays. In her shit box apartment where the walls are paper thin and the hallway looks like something out of one of the horror movies her roommate made her watch. She prays, every night, holding the little gold cross in her palms so tight it makes indents in her skin. She prays for the nightmares to stop, for her life to feel like hers, for world peace. She prays to a God she’s not convinced of anymore. She works in a bookstore, stocking the shelves in the relative silence and reading when she’s done. She comes home smelling like ink and paper, arms aching. 

Catherine never gets away from her parents. She goes to Mt Rainier, studying marketing, but she’s expected home on time, to take Oscar and Kennedy to piano lessons and gymnastics and Tae Kwon Do, to cook dinner and help with homework. She’s expected to be there for recitals and competitions,  because she can’t rely on either of her parents to remember. So, she does. She lives in an apartment with two roommates, and makes the ninety minute drive multiple times a week, and it’s like she never left at all. Sometimes, she thinks her parents don’t even notice that she’s gone. Her roommates don’t either. No one really notices her anymore, as she floats from place to place. She wonders how long it would take for someone to realise she was missing. If she just… Kept driving. Would anyone file a report? Would they care enough? Or would they just go on and keep living, filling the gap she left. She thought about that more often than she really should. What was stopping her, really? She could leave. She was an adult, she could do whatever she wanted. She could tell her parents to go fuck themselves and actually take care of their children for once. She could miss a pick up, and go to the tennis courts instead. It had been far too long since she’d practiced something solely for herself. Her racket sits in the back of her closet, taunting her. And then, because she’s a glutton for pain, she does it. She does one thing for herself. She changes majors, effectively starting from scratch, even though it took her six years to almost complete her four year degree. It doesn’t feel like enough rebellion. She wants to scream.

Serena’s got a pretty cushy job at a small newspaper-slash-blog. Her dad knew a guy, and it was the best offer she was going to get with her mediocre grades, so she packed her bags and moved to Seattle to chase her dreams. He pays her rent in a little apartment, close to the office, and she brought her little car, and her life stays little. She found all the best coffee shops in the first week, and calls home every night. At first, she stays in her comfort zone, writing about things around her. The car crash down the street, the local University’s latest politically incorrect fuck up and their even worse attempt at trying to fix it. Then, one night, looking for something to do, she stumbles into a bar. It’s dark, and every surface is sticky, and she tries so, so hard to keep an open mind. The music, if you can even call it that, sounds like chaos, and anger, and other things she can’t quite explain. She tries to blend in with the walls, just to watch, because it’s fascinating. She watches in the same way she watches documentaries, the different cultures that seem so strange. She starts picking up on the subtle differences, the subcultures within the bar. People who don’t interact, who barely look at each other, and run in their own circles. The ones that clash, in words or actions, over the smallest slights. She itches to start taking notes, her thumbs flying over the screen of her phone as she desperately tries to remember it all, but eventually the heavy-pour drinks start to get to her. She strikes up a conversation with a guy sat next to her, all dark clothes and dark eyes and before she knows it, she’s pulling him back to her apartment, all thoughts of stories disappearing. He’s gone, in the morning, but she finds one of his rings in her sheets, the next time she crawls into bed. It’s a heavy thing, solid, and almost reminds her of a gargoyle. She opens the half written note. She’s writing because it’s interesting, she tells herself. Not because she wants to see him again.

BONUS:

Andrea is an outlier. She has been all her life. She’s closer to the cryptids she studies relentlessly than other human beings. She works in a coffee shop during the day, living in the shitty apartment above it, and every night she spends hours pouring over her research. She saves every dime to pay for her “research expeditions” where she travels across the country to some Bigfoot sighting, or haunted house, or site of some horrible disaster. She’s been to Silver Bridge, she’s been to Area 51, she’s hiked every forest with a Bigfoot sighting. She doesn’t really do anything else. Her blog has a moderate but fanatical following, half watching the madness for entertainment, half believers who feed into it. She runs purely off coffee and red bull and menthols and cheap food. She once sat for thirteen hours writing a blog post, not once moving from her desk. Her weird kid vibe has only gotten stronger as she’s grown, an uncanny valley of a human being who stares just a little too long without blinking. Her parents barely know her, choosing to put more energy into her more normal siblings. She returns for Thanksgiving, every year a little bit less Andrea.

So, in this, Serena’s the oldest in her late twenties. Catherine and Ruby both sit comfortably in 24-26. Constance would be the youngest at 23, a year out of college. Most of them stay pretty true to their vague character arcs, where Connie had always had doubts, Ruby was always going to try to get better, Serena was always going to realise she was sheltered, and Catherine was always meant to scream.

[bigg-city-riders-au]

Fatal Encounter

This is a crossover fic between my curse!au for tugs and the district!AU for Starlight Express. The reader can be bonded to any tug, or just a generic tug in general. You can find content on ny blog: @welcome-to-the-districts . Major TW for graphic violence, and death. This particular one shot is not for the faint of heart, as it is labelled mature for a reason. One-shot under the cut.

Summary: You have been sent out by Dusk to investigate the recent attacks on a ship, but something just isn’t adding up. Will you and the tug your bonded be able to figure it out? 

You, a Rider, have been sent out by none other than Dusk herself to scope out the area a good ways away from the port under the cover of darkness. Apparently, something has been attacking the ships. Dusk didn’t seem to concerned. However, the tug you are bonded to, who has insisted on being with you, wasn’t exactly sure about Dusk’s intentions. You have been trying to learn more about Dusk in general. So far, it isn’t exactly the best. She did the cast the curse and is responsible for so many deaths, yet she formed the Riders in an attempt to keep the curse in check. You’re not sure if she’s actually trying to make up for her mistake, or if she’s planning to use the Riders for her own ill will. It’s odd how she specifically chose you out of the other and more experienced Riders the moment the problem arose. However, oddly enough, the only attacks on the ships have been from the tugs themselves. Perhaps there’s a rogue tug on the lose? Regardless, you have to follow orders from the leader of the Riders.

The tug you are bonded to looks around and sniffs the air. They reach out to you through the bond. Their presence feeling like a warm comforting blanket around your mind.

I smell, see, nor feel nothing. Something isn’t right. I told you not to dig too deep. She’s not one to be trifled with and you know that. She’s dangerous and she knows it. She knows the power she holds and wields it like a weapon. Her name carries weight. One snap of her fingers and she could have Titan incinerate anyone within a split second if she wanted to. We have to be alert.. I have a bad feeling about this. They look down at you, baring a concerned expression on their face. You nod and make sure you check behind you and the tug you’re bonded to. Nothing.

You’re right. There have been no known reports yet.. unless, they went straight to Dusk instead of the media. Which wouldn’t surprise me. If a rogue tug is out and about then the Navy would have to go to the Riders. They know their weapons are pointless. Well, most of them. Missiles do damage.. but that’s besides the point. Yes, I might have dug a little too deep, but why would Dusk stab one of the Riders in the back? It’s her job to lead, to guide. I mean, sure, she’s done a lot of bad stuff, but she’s done a lot of good stuff too. If it weren’t for the curse being cast, you and I wouldn’t have been bonded. You look back at your tug. There’s a moment of silence, yet you can feel the tug’s unease.

That may be true, but she should’ve chosen someone more experienced than you and I to go out and do this. You barely even begun your training. She wouldn’t send you out here to investigate unless something is up. Something is wrong and I just know it. The tug replies. The tug goes silent as they look around. You sense an overwhelming wave of fear through the bond and you look out into the open ocean. The ocean is mostly still and quiet. The moonlight reflecting off it like a  massive moving mirror.

What is it? What do you sense? You ask as you draw your blade from it’s scabbard. The metal sparkles in the moonlight. 

There’s something beneath us. I felt a disturbance in the water. We are not alone. Be ready. The tug glances towards you as they pinpoint the general direction of where they last sensed it. There’s a few long agonizing minutes of silence and the tug you’re bonded to slowly relaxes.

False alarm. Must’ve been a large fish. The tug sighs in relief. It all happens. The coils of a gargantuan serpentine creature wraps around the tug and squeezes tightly. The coils are easily thicker than a redwood tree. There are purple stripes similar in appearance to lightning bolts running along the creatures spine, leading up to spined fins that are an absolutely stunning mix of blue, purple and black. Each fin has a series of white specks, as if they were stars in a stunning and colorful night sky. They glowed softly in the darkness. On the beast’s sides are large white glowing spots that run along it’s body. The purple underbelly of the beast seems to illuminate with a crackle of electricity. Electricity visible coursing up and down the beast’s long winding, and powerful body. You cannot see the head of the beast, giving you the horrifying realization that you’re only seeing a very small portion of the monster. Whatever this is massive. You and your tug don’t stand chance.

The tug you’re bonded to screeches in pain as the coils squeeze around them tightly. You had the right mind to wear rubber boots, or you would’ve been electrocuted as well, but that doesn’t spare you from the pain felt from the bond. You cry out as you feel the searing pain rip through your body as you shake uncontrollably. You feel as if your heart is about to burst from your chest from beating so rapidly and irregularly. You feel as if you can’t move, paralyzed by the feeling of the sheer agony your tug is feeling.

You feel the tug desperately reaching out to you. The coils become tighter and it’s almost impossible for the tug to breathe. You feel the burning sensation in your lungs, desperate for air, yet the immense pressure from the creature’s powerful coils are far too much for your tug to handle.

Run! Run! Go get help! Find a ship and get to safety. Demder Rocks are not too far away. Go find Lillie, anyone to help you! The tug cries out before they finally withdraw from the bond, freeing you from the immense pain you have been feeling for what felt like an eternity. You gasp for air and nearly collapse, reminding yourself you’d be electrocuted if you so as much as even let another part of your body touch the tug you’re bonded to. You look towards the water and a sinking realization hits you. The moment you hit the water, you will be electrocuted as well. You are trapped with this beast. 

You reach out to your tug, but just before you could make contact, you felt a sharp pain in your head and you’re forced back into your mind as the mental barriers are raised once more. Your gaze shifts to the coils as you holds your head. The crackling of electricity has stopped and the coils loosen slightly. You try to reach out again, only to be remain trapped within the confines of your mind. The bond has been broken. Realization turns to sorrow and rage as you realize what had just happened. Your tug was no match for the beast. Your tug was dead. You let out a scream of rage as the coils disappear beneath the surface. In a blind fit of rage you clench your blade in your fist, cast a spell that would create a bubble of air around your head and dive headfirst into the dark cold waters of the ocean. The spell allowed you to look around under the water. Your surroundings are pitch black. 

You see a bright light ahead of you and you have to shield your eyes to keep yourself from being blinded by the light. Your eyes grow wide with fear as you finally see the face of the monster. It’s head is similar to that of a great and wily serpent. It’s jaws agape, showing off rows of sharp teeth similar to that of an angler fish. The light you’re seeing is coming from a bulb attached the beast’s head. It’s deep blue eyes glow softly in the dark water as it examines you. It has six limbs in total and is a beast of gargantuan proportions. It easily dwarfs Hercules and Titan combined, far larger than any other sea serpent you’ve seen. It’s claws are a sapphire blue and the webbing between each finger is the same colors as the spined fins along it’s spine. It’s tail ends with numerous spines, no doubt a deadly weapon. It’s purple draconian ears pin back slightly at the sight of you before it almost smiles at you, clearly amused by your bravery. 

You realize your mistake far too late as the beast charges. It all happens so fast. A flash of sharp teeth and then darkness. 

…

Dusk watches from Demder Rocks as she smirks. She knew Abyss would pull through. Sending the one Rider and tug who were a little too close to finding out just who she was to investigate a reported series of attacks when there was never truly public reports made. She didn’t expect it to work, but at least she has rid the Riders and tugs alike of a would be traitor. She already knows what story she would tell them. Most likely strayed too far, as she knew they were both in experienced. She watches as Abyss’ massive coils wrap around his kill before dragging it deep beneath the waves where he can feed in peace. 

She shakes her head and looks off towards the distance, towards Sodor. The magic buffers are a gateway, allowing anyone from any dimension to enter. In this case, the universe where giant humanoid machines born with a taste for blood and far more animalistic urges than the tugs have been mingling here and it didn't take her long to figure out they could shapeshift into monstrous beasts. Abyss, was an electric engine, a prototype. She recalled meeting him and decided to strike up an alliance. He notifies her when he’s around and she will send out anyone that may be getting too close to finding out who she is and what she’s capable of out in the open ocean so he may be able to feast at his leisure. She’s merely holding up part of the deal, now it’s Abyss’ turn to hold up his, to get rid of the evidence, to feed. With that, she calls for Titan through the bond. She needs to get back to the headquarters before she’s missed. She can’t let anyone get wind of just how she truly is. At least.. not yet.

[slashdementia7734]

FUCKIN' SUFFO!

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

-

[revengeiscoming]

((this is the first fic ive written in 7 years. big thank you to @marsklok for helping me edit it because dyslexia makes writing hard!))

Magnus lay in bed staring at the ceiling. His thoughts always got the worst at night, especially when he was alone. There was no light in the room except a small amount of street light peaking in through broken blinds.

Axl had long gone to sleep, he usually went to sleep first. Magnus could never easily fall asleep. If he did manage to finally drift off, he was lucky if he slept two hours before waking up and having to battle his mind to go back to sleep. He tried to sleep when Axl did, he always does, but like most nights he just couldn’t. Usually, he gave up trying and just laid there alone with his thoughts.

Thoughts of all the wrong he’s done. Thoughts of all the people he’s hurt, melding together with all of the people who hurt him. It always starts with Dethklok, or at least the four members he knew from day one. They sit on both sides of the coin. Though at this point, he knows he’s the villain of that story. Then it goes to his parents. A complex topic for him. While there’s love for them there, or at least he thinks there is, there’s so much pain as well. Countless nights not knowing where his parents were, probably at a be-in or something like that. They didn’t even keep track of him when the brought him to Woodstock in 1969 when he wasn’t even five yet, they just set him off and he was lucky another family looked after him that weekend. Sometimes he wonders if he would have become a Woodstock death if they hadn’t.

His parents never really paid him much attention, they didn’t even notice when he hopped on a bus from Woodstock, NY and went into NYC to try to get involved in the music scene. He wasn’t even reported missing until six months later when he had already gotten in a van with some friends and headed out to LA. He suddenly realized how hard he’s clenching his fists thinking of it all.

His thoughts suddenly turn to ex lovers and friends he’s fallen out of contact with. Less severe parts of his life, things that make him less angry. Big falling outs that mean nothing to a fifty nine year old man. He thinks of the one night stands, the dozens of children he probably has out there from his habit of not using protection. He always feels like he failed his kids from the moment they were conceived, especially with the women who tried to get him to marry them and step up. He couldn’t bring himself to, he didn’t want to become yet another shitty dad but deep down he knows it’s too late.

Without warning, his thoughts go to the Metal Masked Assassin. He can feel his blood run cold and his heart rate spike. He thinks about the ways he was manipulated, the way he was forced to live for months, and the things he did to Toki and Abigail. His original plan was to play his own mind games on Toki to split up the band, still super fucked up, but not nearly as bad as how things went. He knows he can never really apologize to any of them, or begin to explain why. He doesn’t know why, other than feeling powerful having a terrorist on his side.

Toki and Abigail didn’t deserve that shit, he knows that now. He especially feels guilt towards Toki, having convinced him he was his friend. He was a bright eyed, naive kid. So desperate to feel connection and belonging, and he took advantage of that for something horrific. Maybe he wasn’t any better than the Metal Masked Assassin, maybe he deserved to be impaled. He sure as shit didn’t feel like he deserved to be alive today, living mostly normally. Feeling the physical flashbacks begin, he looks for something, anything, to distract himself from reliving the attempt on his life. Both from the Metal Masked Assassin, and himself.

He sits up and lights a cigarette. He then realizes he’s been crying, he has no clue for how long. Looking over at Axl his thoughts begin to stir. This is the only person who has never hurt him in a way where he needed to lash out from perceived danger. The thought of destroying that terrifies him. He didn’t know he was capable of the love he feels for the man sleeping peacefully beside him.

They met at a bar one night. Magnus noticed him immediately. Axl was well over six feet tall, his body both muscular and soft in a way that screams “I’m a dad.” He has curly grey hair that goes past his waist, and facial hair that reminds Magnus of Jerry Garcia. They got to talking, and hit it off immediately. It started with music, then went to fun stories from the 80s when they were younger and full of hope. The night ended with Axl picking him up over his shoulder and riding his motorcycle home to his place, not much nicer than Magnus’s own but definitely cleaner. That’s how most nights at the bar ended now. Magnus on the back of a motorcycle going to one of their apartments.

He shared everything with Axl. His entire life story beginning to end. He expected Axl to leave, but instead he wrapped him into a hug and let him cry. He didn’t know nearly as much about Axl, he doesn’t really like to talk. He’s pretty sure even the thought of talking about his problems makes Axl feel sick. He knows Axl’s dad died in Vietnam, and that he has a strained relationship with his family. There’s also the more fun stories that Axl is more likely to share. Though, there’s always something in there that immediately makes Magnus concerned. You’d think he’d be frustrated by this, he’s not exactly the most patient man in most situations. But with Axl it’s different. He looks at Axl like he hung the stars in the sky. He has all the patience in the world for him. In the same way Axl didn’t look at him differently after hearing his life story, he doesn’t think anything could make him see Axl any differently.

He puts out his cigarette and lays down again. Hesitantly, he cuddles up against Axl. Axl wraps his arms around Magnus, still fast asleep. He always does this and it makes Magnus feel safe. He’s only person to ever make Magnus feel completely safe, if he really thinks about it. Safe in the only calm and quiet he’s ever known, Magnus tries once again to sleep.

[mctionsick]

FINLEY ALDRIDGE AESHTETIC & STATS

basic information

full name: finley aldridge

nickname(s): fin

age: 22-32

date of birth: aug 13

hometown: toledo, oh. but moved around frequently so they  don’t really have a “home town”

current location: brooklyn, ny.  (flexible depending on plot)

occupation: drummer for m.t. threats. day job as a record store clerk (in verses where the band takes off, they buy the record store).  

gender:  gender nonconforming 

pronouns: they / them 

orientation: lesbian

religion: agnostic

species: shape shifter / human verse available

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: e.r. fightmaster / brigette lundy paine

hair colour: brown

eye colour: brown

height: 6 ft

piercings: ears / industrial in left ear

clothing style: gay and comfy.  king of too many flannels.  worn in band t’s.  gym clothes when they’re lounging around the house.   

usual expression:

HEALTH

addictions: n/a

drug use: they will never say no to an edible and has definitely taken a psychedelic on accident.  rarely smokes alone.   

alcohol use: mostly social. they like beer but rarely drink hard liquor.  

illness:  chronic himbo disease and it’s incurable.  jk no real illnesses.  a pin in their knee from a college basketball injury. undiagnosed adhd.

PERSONALITY

positive traits: loyal,  resilient, humble 

negative traits: stubborn, dense, self destructive 

hobbies: drumming, going to concerts, mario kart, petting dogs, spending way too long in record stores, anything active, weight lifting, basketball, being the nice gym bro, camping, fantasy sports leagues.  

habits: they will annoyingly drum on anything if they have a pen in their hand

FAVOURITES

weather: summer.  anything where they can be outdoors and it’s comfortable.  

music: classic rock, old school punk / metal, where ever they live they’re usually really into the local music scene so a lot of ‘local’ bands where ever that would be.  

movies: cheesy 80s action movies bc they’re perfect for their terrible attention span but also because it’s one of the few things they bonded with their dad over.  fin enjoys a good comedy too.  notoriously a little bitch with horror movies pls hold their hand.  

books: fin can’t read:( jk when their reading it’s usually a biography about a musician they like or about music.  they can read an impressively long book about a specific era or music but cannot for the life of them read a novel.  

food: fin is the least picky eater and it has everything to do with growing up poor and not being much of a cook while needing to keep fin and their brother fed.  has a killer mac and cheese recipe.  will eat all the leftovers you don’t want!  

FAMILY - tw: parent death, gambling addiction mention, verbal abuse mention (honestly rarely touch upon in plots)

father: gordon aldridge.  a truck driver who was rarely home but constantly had them moving across the country as he chased work.  a gambling addict who remained neglectful their entire childhood.  occasionally verbally abusive which fin tried to shield gus from.  

mother: anya aldridge.  passed away when fin was young.  they have a few memories of her but not many.  a lot of her belongings got lost in various moves but fin has tried to keep photos and a few important things.  

siblings: gus aldridge.  3-4 years years younger than them.  fin is fiercely protective of him.  laughs at all his jokes (even the ones they don’t get). (note: depending on verse i fin and gus may be twins).

QUICK FACTS

fin is a shapeshifter who can take shape of any animal they’ve seen.  they play in a band of all supernatural creatures.  despite this they most usually take shape of a dog to blend in (or get head scratches).  

human verse available 

[plothooksinc]

5, 11, 58 for fanfic ask game?

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I pulled a muscle by stretching because hypermobility sucks as you get older and then I was like where is the meme did I leave it in my other pocket and then @shadowbends provided me a link like the goddess she is--

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

Mkay first off, HUSH STRIKEOUT I WOULD NEVER (I totally have)

I have two writing playlists. One is a general sweep TMNT stuff for all my different projects and is always in flux-- I put in songs I think of, songs attached to AMVs, official soundtrack stuff, suggestions from other people, and heck other people's playlists and then peel out the stuff I don't like (or associate too heavily with other stuff) because half the time all I need is "people associate this song with the guys" and that works for me. (It's also introduced me to a whole range of bands I really like.) It's here. It's not for any particular project, though, it's Literally Any Time I Open Up A TMNT Fic. (I have a skip button, I use it.)

The other one is a specific playlist for Zaibatsu Project with a heavy cyberpunk bent to it, and you can find it here. I did have a FFVII playlist for Misconduct, but that never made the jump to Spotify so I can't link that one. |D And I was making a MDZS/Ladyhawke inspired playlist for a... project... but that never got off the ground, so shh.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I probably worry too much like every other writer out there, lmao. Uhh but I've learned a lot of fun stuff over the years! How long it takes to freeze to death, the different conductivity of heat away from the human body by various degrees of metal and moisture, a whole bunch of survival tactics for blizzard and avalanche conditions (yeah guess which fic I was researching here) and then the pile of fascinating stuff about NY underground because /gestures at the entire TMNT EU. Most things I learn are literally wounds and survival based because of the stuff I write, and a lot of different explosives and drugs because of the stuff I write, and I really should have a sticker saying Relax I'm A Writer up on my front door for when ASIO rocks up or some such...

58. what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?

Side bar: Tumblr why can I not copy/paste more than one line anymore WTF Actually. The very mundane traditional roast dinner to make sure it was something that Americans actually did b/c Australia is very British-coded and I had one of those no-thoughts-head-empty times where I was like "wait, is this also a US thing???" Turns out it is with some mild variations, so OKAY THEN. (Very dull answer, I know.)

Thank you for the questions! <3

Meme is here.

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 25: Daria Music Resource

I was reading a reddit thread about where Daria and Jane’s music tastes might diverge because that’s what happens when you go down internet rabbit holes on the weekend, and since I’d already sort of been thinking about characters’ canonical music tastes, I thought I’d make a list. A lot of people seemed to think Daria would be into death metal, which was never the vibe I got, but to each their own. There were also one or two people who said classical music; I got that vibe even less. And at least one who said she didn’t listen to music—unrelatable, truly, and anyway there’s headphones and a CD player included as part of the perpetual clutter on her bedroom floor, so I think it’s fairly obvious she does. But there were also some interesting points made that I would accept as headcanons, or that merged with some of my own ‘I have no evidence for this but it’s the vibe for sure’ thoughts that I’d already had.

Personally, I think their music tastes are very similar and if they diverge it’s because Daria likes some stuff that’s more obscure and weirder. I think Jane has a wider, broader taste, and I also think she’s probably more into music—she has the big-ass stereo in her room, the musician brother, the headphones she wears while running, etc.

But what I wanted to do really was more along the lines of a resource based in textual evidence, to start off with. I definitely think people should just use the general vibes of things, or what is most relatable to them, for headcanons, but I also really like being able to base headcanons and other beliefs in the text and there’s more evidence than one might think. One confusing point is that the show has—or had, haha, in its original run—a LOT of music in it, because in every scene that would usually just have a TV score they were using recently released music instead. I do not count any of this background music as specifically indicative of a character’s taste unless it’s shown to be playing in a way they can hear. In a very general sense, sure, the music played in Daria the TV show might be indicative of the musical taste of Daria the character—but that music is pretty eclectic, so it’s quite wishy-washy as evidence.

So, here’s what I’ve found:

Daria:

Boss Hog – written on a CD in Dara’s bedroom in Café Disaffecto; I might be reading this wrong since it looks a little like “Boss HxxS” where the X’s are illegible, but I can’t think of who else it could be

Bog Men — written on a CD in the same scene

Also in this scene is a CD that looks like it has “Delta” written on it, idk what this is, and a partial title “GH” at the end of a word.

The Beatles – gives Ted a tape of The Beatles in The New Kid

Jane:

Boss Hog – big poster in her room visible in multiple episodes

The Foo Fighters – Color and the Shape poster in, I want to say IICY, or something else toward the end of the series

The Presidents of the United States – Peaches was playing in her room when Daria walked in on her and Tom in DDMD (this is per Outpost Daria; I can’t personally identify it in the fan-restored version or remember it from when I first watched the show)

10Speed – Jane was listening to Space Queen in her headphones when ‘speed walking’ with Helen in Lane Miserables

NY Loose – Spit playing on Jane’s stereo in Esteemsters during the commercial break before Sick Sad World

Radiohead - listening to Paranoid Android through headphones in The Misery Chick

Theme from the Poseidon Adventure - favorite song per Sappy Anniversary

Trent:

Korn – poster on his wall in That Was Then, This is Dumb

Slipknot – poster on his wall in the same episode

Nirvana – he’s practicing the intro to Come as You Are, per Jane, in The Invitation

General alternative/grunge – Jane refers to the Zen as a “grunge club” (Ill) and Trent and Jesse want to go to the Alternapalooza (Lolapalooza c. 1997) in Road Worrier; this probably also applies to Jane, who invited herself to go with them, and possibly Daria as well

Jake and Helen:

Jake, showtunes – he’s singing Give My Regards to Broadway in The Teachings of Don Jake and talks about his own attempt at writing a musical in The Story of D

Helen, Joni Mitchell – quotes Big Yellow Taxi in the flashback in The Teachings of Don Jake

60s Classic Rock – they did not go to Woodstock, but Jake was at Altamont, where artists like Santana, Jefferson Airplane, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and The Rolling Stones played. Also… they were hippies. Enough said.

That’s all I can remember for now. As far as headcanons go, I definitely think Daria would be into some classic rock through her parents. I think Jane would be into post-punk like Joy Division (personal major hc for me lol). I think they’d both be into punk, grunge, alternative stuff; that seems to fit with the bands they actually are shown to be listening to. I’m neither the right age nor the right level of coolness to name names lmao but I think these bands and the other bands used in the show (with the caveat above that they aren’t canon interests technically and with a priority to scenes with the character in them) would be a good place to start spinning out headcanons or brainstorming band names for fic purposes etc.

[doomedandstoned]

New York Occult Rockers MAMA DOOM Reveal 'Ring The Bell’ Music Video

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Here's a track that gets better every time you listen to it. It's a ballade of sorts, a tale told of the longest night. "Ring The Bell" is the first single that emerged from 'Blood Salt Sacrifice' (2023) by MAMA DOOM, which dropped December 15th. Today, it gets the music video treatment and this Gratuitous Productions joint illuminates the story in a dreamlike way, where we are left to ponder its symbolism and puzzle together a meaning.

“Blood Salt Sacrifice," says the band, "tells a story that combines the eerie aspects of death and the undying with the enduring themes of love and power and Gratuitous Productions, led by Anne Terror and Grave Dave, wanted to create a Twilight Zone inspired video with ‘Ring the Bell.’ Most of the video was shot under the shadow of an ancient tree surrounded by several forgotten headstones. We set up a makeshift dreamscape which provided me with my own internal struggles because large spiders kept finding their way onto the sheets. There is always a lot of laughs and a whole lot of fun when making these videos, and we’ve got many more to come!”

"Ring The Bell" begins with a wavy Toolesque bass groove from Chuckie Rumbles, and the bass has a strong presence throughout the 3:34 runtime. This is paired with Anne Terror's vibrant beat and an otherworldly synth that has the feeling of ancient mystery about it. Like her keyboard playing, D.Lolli's vocals are well suited for the storytelling demands of the lyrics, supporting the narrative with a range of styles from serious and focused to dramatic and gnarly.

The underground New York trio released their third album on Interstellar Smoke Records, and it is a strange, haunting gem, weaving elements of doom metal with retro occult rock stylings (get it here). Stick Mama Doom on a playlist with Electric Wizard, Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats, Saint Vitus, Castle, and Christian Mistress.

Give ear...

SOME BUZZ

Last heard in 2021 with the release of their sophomore album Ash Bone Skin N Stone; haunting hard-rockers Mama Doom return this month with their devastating new album, 'Blood Salt Sacrifice.'

Originally formed in Newburgh, NY in 2016, since the band’s 2018 debut, 'From Blue to Bone' (2018) the trio have traded in guitars for keyboards and ethereal vocals, and in doing so summoned the deepest of grooves from dominions below.

Blood Salt Sacrifice by Mama Doom

Finalizing that perfect union with crushing bass and drums, their sound might be familiar to fans of doom rock, but it also offers a strangely unfamiliar and unique tone, given its impressive component parts. Newly signed to Polish label Interstellar Smoke Records, 'Blood Salt Sacrifice' is a monumental tale encompassing the eerier aspects of death and the undying.

Traversing a spectrum that spans traditional blues, doom, and ego-death metal, Mama Doom’s 'Blood Salt Sacrifice' is a serious force to be reckoned with.

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