#You know how many rock n roll discs that is?? When I can play with them free on PC?? Hell no man

[solradguy]

the "Radguy" is stored in the aviators

When I have no choice but to buy Strive on PC, this will be the first mod I install

Just like me fr

[griffintail]

A Day in the Life (Lost Ones)

Summary: A day with the new parents and how some of their friends reaction to their new bit of joy. 

Pairings: Platonic! Parental! Tommy, Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, Eret, and Dream x F! Child! Reader

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Warnings : (In Phil’s Specifically) Death, Violence. (Generally) Swearing

A/N: Just so you know (F/L) means First Letter of your first name. Hope you guys enjoy! ♥

Tommy

        Tommy didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

        Tubbo was even more clueless.

        When Tommy first came onto Tubbo’s doorstep frantically talking about being a father with a crying baby, Tubbo was in a state of great concern for his best friend. Tubbo knew Tommy as a scammer and a very…bold individual, to put it nicely. He did not think his friend had what it took to be any sort of fatherly figure. He was just too young and he was too…outgoing.

        The first day, the pair worked hard to figure out how to make the infant stop crying. They found out she just needed food and a diaper change. Tommy had groaned in relief, sitting on Tubbo’s floor as he held the baby feeding her the milk. From there, Tubbo questioned where he even found a child.

        “She was abandoned in a basket, in a tree. I decided to be a big man about it and take her in.”

        “Are you crazy? Tommy, you didn’t even know her gender until two minutes ago.”

        “Shut up.” Tommy huffed looking at his friend as he stopped giving (Y/N) milk for the moment. “I can figure it out, I’m still new to this Tubbo.”

        “I think maybe we should give her to one of the other guys. We don’t know what to do, we just ran around my house for five minutes trying to make her stop crying for god’s sake.”

        “I’ll figure it out! Even without your help.” Tommy looked back down at the infant, continuing to feed her.

        So, Tubbo went along with it. Tommy was stubborn and to make sure the baby didn’t get hurt, Tubbo said he’d help his friend. To be fair, they didn’t have to do much, it was just a lot of work to do the few things and barely any time to do the same adventures they use to do.

        Tommy was determined to do most of it on his own, only going to Tubbo when he was desperate for help. Which were a few times a week. He got better and better though, learning what (Y/N) needed and when.

        Tommy had managed to make a crib all on his own (with a couple of tries) and he discovered, (Y/N) liked her crib at the end of his bed. She just liked being close to Tommy often and he actually didn’t mind. He was proud to show off his baby.

        When he had shown her off to the others, they had all been in various bits of shock. Of course, when he first introduced her, the first thing he shouted was always;

        “I’m a father now bitch! Meet (Y/N)!”

        As he would, (Y/N) would giggle and babble, his excited energy rubbing off on her. After their various bits of shock (and Bad telling him to watch his language even more now that there was a baby), they would indeed think (Y/N) was cute but give him the same advice as Tubbo. Give her to an adult.

        “None of them! None of them think I can take care of you.” Tommy huffed as (Y/N) finished her milk for the hour. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

        Tommy did struggle often. He didn’t get as much sleep as he once did, he stayed inside with (Y/N) more. It was a big change, but he was taking it seriously despite all his jokes. Just, no one could see it because they only saw Tommy as a child.

        “Well, they’re all idiots. I know I have this.” Tommy told the infant as he sat back in bed, holding her. “Right Little (F/L)?”

        (Y/N) squirmed slightly, babbling and Tommy smiled.

        “Right! It’s that time.” He grinned as he stood up, going into his chests next to his jukebox.

        As he pulled out one of his discs, Tubbo knocked on the door as he came in.

        “Hey, am I interrupting?” He asked.

        “No, you’re actually in time Big T!” Tommy said as he put the red labeled disc on.

        “For what?” Tubbo questioned confused as Tommy sat down.

        The music started to play and (Y/N) relaxed in Tommy’s arms. Tommy smiled softly, gently rocking her in his arms as he hummed along to the music. Tubbo was staring in amazement from behind Tommy’s seat.

        “Do you…do you do this often?”

        “Of course.” Tommy grinned at his best friend. “She’s got to learn great music. And look, she loves it so much she falls asleep.”

        He was correct as when Tubbo looked, (Y/N) was giving a tiny yawn as she nuzzled into Tommy.

        “Every day after lunch, I play the disc I got when I found her and she takes a nap.” Tommy quieted down; startling Tubbo as Tommy never quieted down. “I want to find more to let her hear more.”

        Tommy put her down in her crib once she was fully asleep, motioning to the door. They both left as the music kept playing.

        “We should go get more discs tomorrow.” Tommy declared, keeping his voice level as he went through his chests. “(Y/N) needs to hear them all and I want to have them all.”

        “You…do that every day?” Tubbo said, still caught up on Tommy’s gentleness.

        Tommy rolled his eyes. “Of course, I do. (Y/N) likes it and I like it so that’s our routine Tubbo. Sometimes it takes a while though and I have to move around the room.”

        He didn’t mention that he danced to the music with her though, laughing with her as she would giggle, slightly embarrassed about the cute routine.

        “So, are we going to go out tomorrow and get some discs or not?” Tommy grinned at his friend.

        Tubbo stood there, thinking over what he had just seen. He thought about how he was actually wrong about Tommy. His best friend really cared about the girl; his own little girl. Tommy had acted drastically different than what he usually did to make sure she was well and happy. The taller boy was actually taking this very seriously and Tubbo couldn’t help but be proud of his friend.

        “Tubbo.” Tommy snapped his fingers, looking at him disapprovingly.

        “Oh, yeah. Let’s get some discs tomorrow. It’s been forever since we’ve gone on an adventure.” Tubbo smiled.

        He thought Tommy could do this whole dad thing right.

        …

        Then he slightly regretted his words in the morning when Tommy showed up with the little girl and his adventuring gear.

        “We are not taking (Y/N). It’s dangerous Tommy!” Tubbo protested.

        “Nothing will happen to her; I wouldn’t let it. Neither would you. And try and say no to this face.” Tommy showed her off, grinning. “Come on now Uncle Tubbo.”

        Tubbo paused, getting slightly giddy. “Uncle Tubbo?”

        “Of course! Now! Let’s go get some discs!” Tommy took lead.

        “…Wait! You distracted me!” Tubbo called exasperated as he followed his best friend.

        (Y/N) giggled as Tommy grinned wider. Tommy was stubborn but in the case of being a father, it was a good thing as it meant his baby would grow up healthy and happy and he could care less about what others would say.

          Wilbur

        L’Manberg didn’t have many secrets but it had one well-guarded one. That would be the simple fact that (Y/N) existed.

        After the first night with the new baby, Wilbur had gathered all the men inside the van.

        “Time to greet the people little one.” He smiled as he heard the commotion of Tommy trying to command the others.

        Coming out, he put on a serious face as everyone went quiet. Of course, Eret and Fundy already knew. The teenager had his arms crossed, looking away from his father and new sister, as Eret gave a small smile. The other two of L’Manberg…

        “Did you fuck another fish?!” Tommy shouted in exasperation to his brother.

        Fundy gave Tommy an offended glare as (Y/N) squirmed at the sudden loud noise.

        “Tommy, quiet down now,” Wilbur told him as he gently rocked the little girl, Tubbo awing at how adorable she was. “Eret found her left outside the walls last night. I’m taking her in as she was obviously abandoned. So, meet the first woman of L’Manberg, (Y/N).”

        “(Y/N) is a wonderful name.” Eret smiled a bit wider.

        “She’s so cute and small,” Tubbo said, taking a step closer to get a better look at her.

        Tommy huffed, already bored as Fundy simply stayed quiet.

        “That being said, we are in the middle of a war.”

        The weight of everything came back to rest on their shoulders as everyone with a smile stopped holding one. It was a dangerous time for all of them, no one able to leave the walls without a friend. Walls that were supposed to mean their freedom.

        “That’s why no one must know (Y/N) exists. She must be a secret from all of the Dream SMP. They’ve shown how ruthless they can be and I don’t want to think about what they’d do if they knew about her. So, beyond these walls, (Y/N) doesn’t exist.”

        Everyone gave a nod at the same time as (Y/N) had started to play with the ruffles on Wilbur’s uniform. He smiled gently as her as he took her hand, letting her play with his finger instead before looking dead serious at his men again.

        “I can’t have just a nod. I need you to be verbal. This will not be taken lightly.”

        Tommy spoke first as he gave a salute. “You have my word, Wilbur!”

        Wilbur cracked a small smile; he could always rely on his little brother. “Good, now quiet down a bit.”

        From there, it was a chorus of promises and she was their biggest secret that united them. Not even a traitor would dare breath word of her place in their walls.

        The men could see a difference in their leader every day since then.

        He left the van more often, actually going to his own home in the walls. Daily, everyone would see him carrying (Y/N) with him in her own little uniform he made on a walk within the walls. He sang more often like he used to before the declaration of war was made in order to soothe the little girl or simply to make her smile. There was a reason for him to relax and be soft and everyone was rather glad after all the weight he had been forced to hold.

        Wilbur also saw the change in his men as the days went on.

        Tubbo found joy with such an adorable new addition. He would sometimes join Wilbur on his daily walks within the walls to have a chance to hold the small girl. The young boy loved to also give her little gifts, usually toys he thought she’d like. He was very excited when Wilbur told him that she slept with a bee plushie he had gotten her.

        Tommy was curious about her. Such a small thing, he was certain he was way bigger than her when he was that young. Wilbur let him hold her on the occasion if Tommy asked, but wouldn’t wonder if Tommy was holding her. He had faith in his little brother, but his eccentric energy just put Wilbur a little on edge. Often, Tommy would brag to the little girl that he’d be the coolest uncle and teach her many swear words when she got older, much to Wilbur’s dismay.

        Eret did like the little girl, he really did as she was such a precious little thing, but he tried not to put too much attachment to her. He had begun…he had begun a different path and he didn’t want to also betray the little girl. And, the more separation he felt from her, the easier it was to lie about her existence. Though, there was the occasion he would do the same as Tubbo and gave her a toy or two, unable to help it as it put a smile on his face.

        Fundy was different. He had been an only child for most of his life and now he had a little sister? It was only natural that he was jealous and sulked at all the attention she got from their father. Their father did try to include Fundy though; inviting every day on their walks, offering to let her feed instead, asking to play his piano while Wilbur sang. Unfortunately, Fundy wanted nothing to do with his little sister, often saying he hated her, which repeatedly broke Wilbur’s heart but he had faith; he’d change his son’s mind.

        “I’m trying to have a peace talk with Dream today,” Wilbur told Fundy as he shrugged on his jacket while Fundy was sitting in the front seat of the van.

        “Ok, and?” Fundy looked up at him.

        “I’m taking Tubbo and Eret, Tommy’s staying guard and you.” Wilbur handed him a piece of paper. “And you are taking care of your sister.”

        “What?! What the hell?” Fundy exclaimed, jumping up.

        Wilbur put the paper in Fundy’s hand. “I have to go and try and make peace. I have faith in you son. (Y/N) would love to spend time with you anyways. Take good care of her alright? I don’t trust Tommy to watch her for so long but if you really need help, get him.”

        “What…Why do I have to watch the brat?”

        Wilbur gave him a stern look. “Fundy, she is your little sister. She is a part of our family. And family takes care of each other. Now, I want you to be nice to her and take care of her. Understood?”

        Fundy clenched his jaw, shoving his hands in pockets. “Yeah, yeah.”

        “Good.” Wilbur smiled at him now. “She’s still sleeping in my room. That paper is what she needs and when. You can do anything with her in-between. I’ll see you in a few hours my son.”

         Wilbur left; his heart heavy as this was the first time he’d leave (Y/N) alone but hope helping it float as he hoped Fundy could love his sister as Wilbur loved her.

        Fundy went into his father’s bedroom and saw the little girl already waking up slightly. He gave a heavy sigh as he picked her up carefully, holding her close.

        “I hate you.” He muttered as she looked up at him.

        The little girl giggled and he lowered his head. She gave pet to his face to feel the soft fur.

        “I hate you’re too fucking adorable to hate.” He huffed. “Just don’t tell dad. Now, come on dipshit, time to eat.”

        Fundy was jealous, yes. But he could never actually hate his adorable little sister. He’d keep her safe and make her happy too.

        Wilbur got back later than he expected as Dream and his goons had chased their peaceful band like sport but they managed out relatively unscathed. The moon was already up and Wilbur was worried as he hadn’t written instructions for this long in the night for Fundy. After Tommy reported no incidents along the walls, Wilbur rushed home but froze, his heart-melting. In the living room, there was a long finished playing record on the jukebox and on the couch, Fundy laid with his arm over (Y/N) securely as she laid on his chest, both of them asleep.

        “Thank you, my little champion,” Wilbur muttered with a smile, gently picking (Y/N) up before putting a blanket over Fundy. “I’m proud of you.”

        Wilbur held (Y/N) close to him as he walked to his bedroom.

        “And you, my little star, a day won’t go by where you won’t be loved. You’re our little star of hope in L’Manberg. You remind everyone what we fight for and you bring everyone smiles. We will bring peace, just so you can see how bright you shine my little star.” He kissed her forehead before putting her in her crib. “Sleep well love.”

          Philza

        Walking took longer than flying but it was definitely safer for his new little angel. He had tried to find her parents, asking around with the survivors but they weren’t there. So, Phil took her with him to meet his sons. When he started this journey, of the list of things he’d thought would happen, he didn’t think he’d gain a new child. Yet, there she slept peacefully in the sash Phil had made to carry her and keep her warm rather than carrying her in his arms the entire walk.

        She most certainly quieter than most of his other children had been when they were this small, which Phil did not mind one bit. When she was awake, he would talk to her to fill her world though. He’d tell her about her new brothers and how he was sure they’d all love her in their own way.

        “Techno will take a little convincing, he has a thing about orphans.” Phil scrunched up his nose. “But he’ll learn to you like you (Y/N).”

        He hadn’t been able to find a name either for the new baby so he gave her one on his own.

        Finally, after days of travel, Phil reached a crest of a hill and was able to see a beautiful town laid before him. From the looks of some decorations, they had some sort of festival recently. The worrying part was the people in armor down below, but, a large portion of them were celebrating. Phil scanned them over then he grew a large smile. Wilbur was patting Tommy’s shoulder as the younger boy was screaming with one of those celebrating, Techno to the side smirking.

        His sons had managed to figure it all out.

        “Looks like we were a little late angel. Your brothers can be smart when they choose to be.” He chuckled. “We’ll wait here and let them have their moment of victory.”

        He sat on the edge of the hill, giving (Y/N) her afternoon milk as he watched the crowd below and listened to the start of celebratory speeches. As he quickly burped the infant, he frowned as Wilbur left his seat in the crowd, walking away as Tubbo was getting on stage.

        “Let’s go see what he’s up to.” He muttered to the little girl, putting her in his sash securely before carefully flying over.

        He landed as Wilbur walked into a room in a hill behind the stage. His eyes went wide as he remembered one of Tommy’s letters.

        Will keeps saying if he can’t have L’Manberg, no one can. He made a room rigged to TNT under our nation. I’m hoping to talk him down but I don’t know if I can.

        “Shit.” Phil sprinted over, walking into the room after his son.

        Inside were mad scribblings as Wilbur stood with his hand on the wall next to a button.

        “What are you doing?” Phil asked him.

        Wilbur jumped, whirling around to see his father standing there, wearing a sash, unable to see the child it was holding.

        “Phil…?”

        “What are you doing?” Phil repeated.

        Wilbur ran his hands through his hair as he looked back at the button then his father.

        “How’d you…do you know what this is?” He motioned to the room around him.

        “I do.” Phil nodded, stepping carefully forward.

        “Have heard the songs on the walls?” Wilbur asked in turn as he ran his hand over a few of the words. “I was just saying to myself, there was a special place where men can go, but there’s not anymore! It’s not…” Wilbur sighed as he looked back at the button.

        “It is there,” Phil told him as he put a hand on the side of the child to calm her down as she squirmed. “You just, you’ve just won it back.”

        “Phil! I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil! I’ve been—I’ve been here like seven or eight times I’ve been here.” Wilbur threw up his arms as Phil stood his ground when he saw the crazed look in his son’s eyes.

        The little girl tried to give an uncomfortable babble at the loud shouting but Wilbur talked over her, having yet to notice the extra body in the room. In comfort, Phil put a hand over one of her ears as he pressed her close to him.

        “Phil I-I’ve been here so many times.” Outside of the room, they all could hear the sound of fireworks going off. “They’re fighting. They’re fighting.”

        “And you want to just blow it all up?” Phil questioned.

        “I do I think I—”

        “You fought so hard to get this land back.” Phil tried to discourage one of his older sons. “So hard.”

        “I don’t even, I don’t even know if works anymore Phil,” Wilbur said, his hand hovering over the button, making Phil take a step forward. “I don’t even know if the button works I could, I could press it and might not…”

        Wilbur looked back, grinning like a mad man and Phil squeezed the young girl lightly.

        “Do you really want to take that risk? Wilbur…” He went to continue to say, hoping to bring up his new little sister to discourage the man but Wilbur looked away, staring at the button.

        “There was a saying Phil, by a traitor. It was never meant to be.” Wilbur pressed the button, grinning at Phil as the hiss went off.

        “No!” Phil shouted, quickly pulling his son close as he covered the three of them his wings as the blast went off.

        He winced as the blast and the heat singed and damaged his feathers but he didn’t move as he held his two children close. He wouldn’t let them get harmed.

        The sound of white noise rang in their ears as the explosions slowly stopped. Phil raised his wings slightly to look in horror at the destruction before them. Outside their half-destroyed room, Phil slowly started to hear the voices crying with terror at what they just witnessed as Wilbur stood before the hole holding his arms out as he grinned.

        “My L’Manberg Phil! My unfinished symphony forever unfinished! If I can’t have this no one can Phil!”

        “Oh my god.” Phil breathed, the ringing dying down enough for him to be startled at the cries closest to him.

        (Y/N) screamed out cries in the aftermath of the loud explosions and shouting, her own ears ringing. Phil held her close, trying to calm her down despite his horror and disappointment. Wilbur finally heard the cries himself and looked over to finally notice the little girl. For a moment, he could see through his madness.

        “Who’s…who’s this?” Wilbur muttered.

        “She’s (Y/N),” Phil told him as he put his forehead on the little girl’s. “I came to help you and found her. I brought her to show her what her new brothers made. What great work you’ve done.”

        “What great…” Wilbur looked over at what he had done.

        Behind him, he could hear the cries of his new tiny sister he hadn’t been aware he had. Phil had brought her to show her a place of peace and beauty, but instead, Wilbur showed her terror and destruction. Across the explosion, he could see Tommy’s horror-struck face at the sight of their once great nation gone. This was his fault…

        He pulled his sword, holding the handle to Will. “Kill me, Phil.”

        “What?!” Phil looked at his son shocked, still clutching onto the crying girl.

        “Stab me with the sword. Murder me now. Kill me!” Will demanded as he motioned to the crowd. “Look, they all want you to!”

        Phil was stood in shock as he held a crying child in one arm while looking over at the crowd of terrified and horror-filled faces.

        “Kill me, Phil!” Wilbur shouted.

        “I—You’re my son!” Phil yelled. “No matter what you do—I can’t—”

        “Phil!” Wilbur shouted, shoving the sword handle into his hand. “This isn’t—! Look! Look! How much work went into this and it’s gone! Do it.”

        Phil looked from his son to the crowd, to the child in his arms. He couldn’t…why’d…(Y/N) should get a chance to meet her own brother! L’Manberg had ruined his son. He had gone mad…

        “I’m sorry.” He whispered under his breath before plunging the sword.

        Tears filled Phil’s eyes as he let go of the sword and held his son. (Y/N)’s wails only got louder and Phil cried with her.

        “I’m sorry, I’m sorry both of you.” He muttered

        He wished everything could be different…

        …

        Phil sat by the fire with the L’Manberg citizens, one of his hands shaking slightly as the other gently rocked the no longer crying child.

        Tommy had been speechless since the betrayal he received from both of his brothers, but looking up at his father across from him, he stood and spoke.

        “Who’s she?” He asked.

        Phil looked at him as the others looked over as well.

        “This is your new little sister (Y/N). I found her when the village I was staying at was raided and I saved her. Would you like to hold her?”

        Tommy came over and sat in front of his father. Phil helped him before letting his now second youngest hold her on his own. Tommy’s face had held no emotion after everything today but now it softened as the little girl met his eyes. He hugged her lightly as Phil held onto his shaking hand with his other to stop it.

        “I wish you could have seen what L’Manberg looked like (Y/N),” Tommy mumbled to her. “Wilbur and Techno betrayed me but I promise. I won’t betray you. I never will do that to you.”

        Phil looked at his son sadly as Tommy put his forehead on hers softly. At least Phil knew that she’d be well-loved by the brother she got to meet properly.

        From there, the next few days were made for rebuilding. Phil helped the group as best he could but he had to rest to let his wings heal and he also had to take care of his little angel. Tommy made sure the others built Phil one of the first houses so his sister could be in a proper bed.

        It warmed Phil’s heart that Tommy cared so much about his new little sister. Tommy would visit the pair occasionally just to see her, Phil giving him a little bit of trust to take care of her. Of course, Tommy used that trust to be his usual self and brag about how cute his little sister was to anyone that would listen to the boy’s antics. Though many couldn’t deny the boy, she was a very cute little girl and often brought smiles to other’s faces.

        Phil was glad that his quiet little girl could bring joy to people that had been through so much. He just wished that she had had a chance to bring smiles to those that didn’t walk beside them any more…

          Technoblade

        “Phil,” Techno called on his walkie, trying to quiet down the girl crying in his arms.

        “Yes?” Phil answered.

        “She won’t stop crying,” Techno told him, Phil, able to hear the girl, chuckling quietly to himself. “Don’t laugh at this!”

        “Sorry, sorry. Alright, you feed and changed her right?” The older man listed.

        “Yes.” He had done it a few minutes ago, on his usual schedule to do so.

        “Did you burp her after she ate?”

        Techno paused and huffed before burping the child, the cries dying down after she released the gas that had built up.

        “I forgot, she stopped.”

        “Good. Just relax now, alright Techno?”

        “Yeah.” Techno sighed as he put his walkie away, looking down at the little girl. “What now brat?”

        It was often that Techno called his father to ask what to do. To put it simply, he was worried he’d fuck this all up. He had never exactly taken care of a child before; it had been all anarchy and blood before he decided on retirement. Hell, he barely ever took care of Tommy when he was a child, that was usually Wilbur’s thing.

        He didn’t know the first thing he was doing nor did the voices. They always threw out different ideas contradicting each other. So, Techno always did his best and when it didn’t seem like enough, he went immediately to Phil.

        When he did have things under control though, it was just any other day. Brew some potions out of habit, take care of the animals before collecting food for himself and milk for (Y/N), and trade with some of the villagers close by. The only difference was that he brought (Y/N) with him while he did anything.

        To his relief, she was a quiet child and didn’t mind his quiet nature. She didn’t need pointless noise to be happy so he could just simply work. Techno did get Phil to make her a warmer outfit and Phil took it seriously but also made it a joke. He made her a pink outfit from wool and leather and with a bit extra, put fake pig ears on the hood of the outfit, which Techno would never admit looked adorable on her out loud.

        He most certainly didn’t put it on her even if they weren’t going out that day, why would anyone think that?

        Phil most certainly did spoil her though when he would come over. He’d always have something new for the little girl, clothes, and toys. His father also often tried to discourage Techno from using some of his nicknames for his child when the older man was over, such as brat.

        (Y/N) yawned quietly and Techno chuckled, a small smile cracking on his face.

        “Tired early huh? Yeah, ok, I can use a nap.” He nodded as he went up to his bedroom.

        He sat on his bed, leaning back on the headboard as he racked his brain for their daily ritual.

        “I got a good one today.” He laughed quietly. “Let me tell you about the story of Theseus.”

        Every nap and bedtime, there was always a story for Techno to tell. Sometimes he’d tell her about his adventures around the world, about the places he conquered. There were other days when he’d tell her about myths he had memorized. It was when he’d talk the most to the little girl and he rather enjoyed these moments in his day.

        It was their special little thing and he wouldn’t ever want to miss them.

        Close to the end of the story, he stopped as he noticed (Y/N) was asleep. He nodded as he laid back, resting her carefully on his chest.

        A crib was one thing Techno had not invested his time in. He didn’t move in his sleep and it was rare for the little girl to move in hers. So, he slept with her on his chest, giving him and the voices a better piece of mind. No one knew where he was, but he was still paranoid. This was the safest place for her.

        “Sleep well little goddess,” Techno muttered, a hand on her back.

        Despite the trials, he didn’t mind being a father.

          Eret

        Eret put a small flower crown on the infant’s head that matched the one he was wearing, smiling as she giggled, before picking her up, continuing on their daily walk through the SMP.

        It was a lot of trial and error with the pair but Eret was a quick learner and adapted to the needs of his new child. He didn’t do as much as he once did with his friends, fewer prank wars with Fundy, and less involvement with Tommy’s antics, but he didn’t mind. He spent those hours with his little princess now; taking walks with her, playing with her along the way and in the castle, and making clothes that made her the adorable princess that she.

        Of course, he did still sometimes get involved.

        “Eret!” Tommy yelled on the walkie.

        Eret chuckled as he took it from his pocket. “It seems Tommy is having troubles again princess.” She gave a babble and Eret nodded. “You’re very right. Let’s see what he needs. Yes, Tommy?”

        “I need your help at my base ASAP!” Tommy demanded.

        “It’s nothing dangerous right?” He asked.

        “Of course not, now if you could hurry.”

        He shook his head chuckling. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

        Putting the walkie away, he hugged his little girl lightly as he changed direction.

        “Sorry princess, we need to go check on Tommy. I know you won’t mind though.”

        There were other times that had happened similarly and Eret would take (Y/N) with him to meet the younger boy. The younger boy’s energy would rub off on the infant and she would get excited as well, babbling and giggling constantly. As long as nothing dangerous was going on, Eret was glad to bring (Y/N) over as it always brought a smile to his face at how adorable she’d get.

        Walking onto Tommy's property, he saw the young boy waiting impatiently outside his dirt home.

        “There you are! You brought the brat?” He huffed.

        “Come now, Tommy. (Y/N) loves being around you, at least be kind to her.” Eret smiled, knowing the boy meant no ill will.

        “Right, now!” Tommy said dramatically as he opened the door to his base. “I need to make a plan!”

        Following him in, he saw Tubbo was also there looking over a paper with Tommy’s handwriting on it. Tubbo looked up as they came in and grinned seeing the little girl in Eret’s arms.

        “You brought (Y/N)!” Tubbo exclaimed excitedly as he came over. “Can I hold her?”

        Eret laughed as he nodded, helping the other boy hold her. Tubbo enjoyed seeing the little girl, loving to play with her and spend time with her. There were times when Eret would let Tubbo babysit his princess so he could do a few more dangerous tasks.

        “You got a little crown, you’re really a princess now.” Tubbo grinned as the girl babbled at him.

        “We’re not here for (Y/N), we’re here to plan!” Tommy protested now.

        Tommy didn’t mind the small child, he just got annoyed when the focus would come off him.

        Focus went back on Tommy but Eret left after a little while to give (Y/N) her lunch for the day. She had gotten energetic after seeing the two boys, babbling and giggling as Eret played with her on the walk back. As they got back to his castle, he saw a wrapped package and note at the main door. Picking it up, he saw it was Fundy’s handwriting.

        You stand no chance, it’s for (Y/N)

        He raised an eyebrow, opening the package then laughed.

        “It seems Fundy wishes to make you love him more than me.” Eret showed her the fox plushy, making her eyes sparkle as he gave it to her. “But I know that you’ll always love me, princess.” He booped her nose, (Y/N) looking at his sunglasses, babbling. “That’s right. I think this prank was an automatic failure. I love you princess.”

          Dream

        “Come on (Y/N), you just got to hold out your hands to me,” Sapnap told the infant in the crib at the community house.

        “No, she’s going to me,” George argued.

        The little girl looked between the two as they went between bickering and encouraging her to hold her hands out to them. Then she looked directly between them and held her arms out giggling.

        “What?” George looked behind them and yelped seeing Dream.

        “What are you idiots doing?” Dream laughed as he picked up his daughter.

        “We were trying to get (Y/N) to choose her favorite uncle, but then you ruined it.” Sapnap huffed, crossing his arms.

        “Well, I am her favorite person.” Dream bragged as he pulled his mask up while looking at the little girl. “Peek-a-boo.”

        The girl gave a little squeal of laughter and Dream chuckled rubbing his nose against hers.

        “She loves both of you idiots.” Dream told them, put his mask back on. “You’re her uncles.”

        “Yeah, but I got to prove Uncle Sapnap is the best.” Sapnap pointed to himself.

        “No! I’m better than you of course.”

        The two bickered and Dream shook his head at his friends before leaving the community house.

        “Your uncles are stupid.” Dream whispered to the little girl, tickling her stomach making her giggle. “Why don’t we go look at what the new people have built today, sound good sweetheart?”

        After Dream had taken in the little girl, his life had most certainly brightened more as their world around them grew. She was a constant ball of happiness that always made Dream and his friends smile. Of course, they had to power through learning how to take care of a baby, a lot of screaming coming from all parties the first night they had the child. But they were starting to get the hang of it.

        One thing Dream loved to do that always seemed to please the little girl was taking her around to see the new buildings that were slowly starting to appear as more people joined their land of the SMP. She seemed to like taking in the new sights so Dream took her whenever someone new came or a new build appeared.

        “I don’t know what I’m going to do with your uncles when you get older. They’re going to be falling over each other to get your attention.” Dream told her as he walked. “I think they think I’ll like whoever wins. You’re my special little girl after all. But what they don’t know, is I don’t care as long as you’re happy.”

        It was very true that Dream’s two best friends were always falling each other to get the attention of the infant already. They got her many things to win her over, having similar competitions when Dream wasn’t looking. Right now, the score was even.

        To try and balance the two-out, Dream would alternate on who he took out for dangerous adventures and who would stay with his little girl. He couldn’t send the both of them on their own, unfortunately, least one of them “trips” into a lava pool.

        Dream stopped on the edge of the new property, (Y/N) looking at the colorful flowers decorating it.

        He was a bit hesitant to show her off to others as he wasn’t the most trusting but if they were going to be part of his land, he would introduce her out principle. He did say she was going to be the princess of his land.

        “No new faces today doesn’t seem Tommy is around.” Dream said to her. “We’ll see him later I’m sure. How about we go visit Punz for a bit?”

        He walked away from the property. There were so many people on his land now, he was sure it would become a bright place where his little princess could always be happy.

Lost Ones Taglist: @kakamihasatmblr​ @ialexabsuniverse​ @teaguecosmos​ @chaosofsmarty​

A/N: If you want to be in this taglist I have a post on my page you can reply on or just send me an ask :)

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[natromanxoff]

Record Mirror (December 14, 1974): 51/?

QUEEN KILLING THEM SOFTLY IN FRANKFURT

IT WAS, said the tall and studious Brian May, like playing to a vacuum cleaner. "We were just pouring it out and they (the audience) were sucking it in, with nothing coming back. I tell you, for the first time in many months I felt like I'd done a hard day's work when I came off stage."

May, along with the rest of the band, is sitting in the diner of Frankfurt's Why Not club reflecting on Queen's second date in Germany. The mood is not bad, but there's an undercurrent of steely determination following the difficulties of that night's gig.

The fact is, support band Lynyrd Skynyrd. were exactly what stoned-out Frankfurt wanted. As in England with Golden Earring, so in Germany with Queen, Lynyrd Skynyrd make an over-poweringly succesful support band. Here In Frankfurt there were even more difficulties for the English and. Most of the audience are American GI's, looking like inmates from the local borstal with their cropped hair and rippling muscles.

As you enter the 1100 capacity hall, the air is stuffed with the stench of dope — an intermingling of hash and grass and the sweat of a crowd at least 300 over the top.It's a strange place, former stock-exchange for farmers, complete with balcony, and surrounded by tropical plants.

Up on the balcony above the stage a group of Queen supporters self-consciously tap their feet to Skynyrd's rhythmic weave. Roger Taylor, ever grinning, appears to check on th band, notes the wild applause and disappears, no doubt to plan strategy.

There's a long break between sets leading to the dissipation of part of the crowd. Heidi, the whizz-kid of EMI Germany, explains the local GI's problem: "Zey have to report back to camp by 11.00 pm". So when Queen's little rock 'n' roll drama explodes, there are considerably fewer people end even less enthusiasm.

Presence

Mercury, the self-styled rock supremo, looks unabashed as Queen open with as much presence as a band can muster. Lights, tapes, and screaming dynamics combine to counter the audience apathy. It's ahighly professional first assault. Procession, Now I'm Here, and Ogre Battle make a promising start which draws warm applause. But unlike many gigs, this one did not cook to boiling point. If anything the crowd were almost undecided when Queen departed after an energetic stab. It took fully two minutes before muted applause turned to a good old stmp and chant, bringing the boys back on stage for a stirring finale.

Freddy stalks the stage with controlled aggression as they bash into Big Spender and you realise that here's a rock artist who can sing, cavort, and write songs with an almost contemptuous level of excellence. He is a classic rock star — complete with costume changes and bare hairy chest. Seems, his only real need is to develop that outrageous off-stage campery into the act. He's very much the mincing Queen, yet on stage this seemingly natural personality is overtaken with host of: "Right now we'd like to do" type announcements. Roger Taylor, a veritable demon on the drums and very fine musician, has more idea when he tells the crowd to get off their arses. Nevertheless there were those in the company who felt Queen showed too much aggression in the face of audience apathy.

Anyway, by all account there's a huge row in the dressing room afterwards which sends the EMI rep scurring away with cries of: "Don't let them break the windows."

The Swedes were apparently as wild as English audiences, but in Germany it's different.

Next stop is Hamburg with Skynyrd supporting for the last time.

Unapproachable

More talk on the way back to the hotel suggests the band will be unapproachable and there's even talk of spending the rest of the evening with Slade, who just happen to be staying at the same hotel. The word is that Queen are THE most fastidious band and no matter how good the gig, they (or Freddy paticularly) will find fault.

Eventually Brian and John walk into the bar. They look cool but not too unnerved and they're all prepared to go clubbing.

According to them there've been a few problems already on this, still young European tour like the incident which decapitated their equipment truck. Apparently some hapless roadie was hurtling through the Swedish night when he failed to notice a low-bridge warning. The lorry went on through, losing its root and half the amps in the process. Two gigs had to be cancelled while another truck was driven out from London in time for the Munich gig, a first in Germany. According to Heidi, Munich was a smash: "The audience just didn't know what had hit them," she says, adding that tonight's comparative failure does not over concern her: "Queen will be huge," she says confidently, "I'm sure they are going to be enormous, but it will take a year."

None of the boys seem overly worried and the general feeling in their road party — and among the visiting journalists — is one of disdain for the Frankfurt crowd. A crowd of dopers into boogie rock is hardly likely to appreciate futuristic guitar pyrotechnics and 1975 flash a la Mercury.

"Still," muses May, now installed at the night spot, "they could have returned something. The more an audience feed back the better we play — naturally — but there I just felt like I was wasting my time."

Electronic

He's a musician of the electronic school, very much on top of the latest developments in the uses of amplified sound. On stage he uses two American Echoplex units. The guitar he built himself over two years: "There's nothing special or different about it, it's just a good instrument." The amplifiers, he draws from a good old British tradition. Back in the days when The Shadows were the inspiration for every rock group in the country (they were celled rhythm groups then) Vox amplifires were renowned. Now, in contrast to almost all of his contemporaries, May uses the good old Vox AC 30, or to be more precise, nine of them (three are spare). 

Over a crab cocktail and non alcoholic drink (he's still recovering from Hepititis) Brian quashes the popular misconception that Queen are just a studio band manipulated by highly professional technicians. The truth is self-evident in the stage act. They compare favourably with their recorded sound. But Brian goes further. 

"Do people really believe it's all down to the studio?" he asks indignantly. 

Well, er, yes Brian, Trident Studios has got a reputation for expertise, and you must admit there's a lot of production goes into the Queen discs.

"OK," he returns, "but most of that studio direction comes from us.

"We think of all the ideas. We love being in the studio. We're full of thoughts on how the songs should come out."

Fair enough. But what about being on the road? There are nothing but tours ahead for the band. Can they all cope? What will they do to keep sane?

"I suppose this," he looks unimpressed. "I can't drink more than a couple of pints so there's no danger of me getting wrecked. I must admit though it's going to be long haul. It'll be really good for us but I'd prefer not to be away so long. We're just going home for Christmas then we're off again to America." 

Meanwhile on the next table, Freddy Mercury is being his ourtageous self: "When we were in Copenhagen dear, we went to a Russian restaurant where naturally I ordered the speciality of the house. It was delicious. I said 'what in this' and they told me I was eating bear. Bear, dear, I loved it."

Freddy and Roger Taylor seem to be taking Europe in their stride, and a few indifferent gigs won't stop their growing style in this band. Freddy's voice is on the way to giving out, yet he still has time to confide that he simply must do something about his hair. Perhaps he should send for his personal hairdresser? 

The Queen has her eyes on an entourage no doubt, and what's the betting she gets it...?

[writing-mlm]

Date night

request: tooth rotting fluff, something a lil risky/ if you catch my drift or literally anything (accept angst)

warnings: cursing and smut don't mind canon, there are canonical inaccuracies in this 

"Are those swim trunks?" You covered your mouth to hide the chuckle trying to escape at the sight of Mako's nightwear. The green and white boxers nearly touched his knees and were so wide you almost didn't recognize them.

    "Harhar," Your boyfriend rolled his eyes before turning to face you, his face instantly lights up a bright red. It was morning so it was easy to see the blush on his pale face, not to mention his eyes instantly darted around your body and settled on the door behind you. "Shouldn't you be heading to the arena?" He stammered, taking a step back when you took one forward.

"I dunno if you can tell, but I need to get dressed," You tugged at the knot keeping the towel around your hips. Not that he saw, he was too busy looking away from you despite having seen you naked the night before. Sometimes you dreaded the fact that the self-proclaimed Team Avatar had split nearly a year ago but you learned to cherish the newly found time you could spend with him now. You even had time to move in together, although you had separate rooms. 

"Right," He cleared his throat, going to leave the room when you closed the curtains to your room. "I'll be in my room, if you need me," Letting out a hum you dropped your towel on your desk on your way to the closet while he left the room. As soon as he left, you let out a sigh and ran your hand over the marks he left last night, a grin spreading across your face all the while. 

Even if you loved teasing him outside of sex, you couldn't deny the fact that you were a major bottom. You loved it when he left marks or when he held you close as he degraded you. It was also fun to see him do a complete 180° when you weren't being intimate. 

"We're still on for tonight right?" You asked him in the kitchen as he made breakfast. It was date night but it was also the last match of the season and your team was counting on you since your replacement was less than ideal.

    "Of course," He nodded, moving over to the fridge to grab another egg, his lips catching your own on his way back. "Lin gave me the night off so I'll be able to watch your game," It was rare for him to watch games with his schedule, you both worked at the same times for the most part so it allowed more time together away from work. Though, he'd managed to catch the radio broadcast of the tournament and congratulate or console you.

    "Amazing, maybe I could get a good luck kiss," You grinned, wrapping your arms around his torso, your head resting on top of his while he flipped the eggs into an omelet. Mako hummed, his hips swaying with yours to the music faintly playing from outside 

"And when you win…" He trailed, subtly curving his body into yours. "You can take charge tonight," Kneading his sides, you shifted your head to his neck and pressed a slow kiss to it. His smell mixed with the food filled your nose as you pressed another kiss to his neck, that time it caused a slight moan from Mako. 

    "The eggs are burning," You whispered into his ear before walking away, the smell of slightly burnt eggs leaving your reach. All the while Mako grumbled about distractions. Going over to the fridge, you grabbed a jug of orange juice and poured it into the two cups set at the table. 

"Hope you like burnt eggs because I'm not remaking them," He called over his shoulder, sliding the eggs onto two plates making you laugh.

   "I've eaten literal trash, I'm sure slightly burnt eggs isn't going to be a bother, my love," When you lived with Korra, she often dared you to eat trash and you hardly ever said no. Not because you were afraid to, no, you did it because you didn't want to back down from a dare.

After breakfast, you checked the time and decided to head to the arena to get in a couple of hours of practice while Mako was at work. Even though you had a certain distaste for the prince, with his not so subtle flirting with your boyfriend.

"I love you," You whispered against his lips, your fingers playing with his baby hairs on his neck that he forgot to gel up again.

    "I love you more," He pecked your lips, hesitant to leave but the honk of the car outside pulled him away. Dropping your hands from his hair, you grabbed the keys to his moped and tossed it towards him before grabbing your own set. It was a Christmas gift from Asami around two years ago when you both were dating- when you thought you liked girls.

Like Mako, until you realized your feelings for each other you both thought you were straight. That the feeling Asami (and Korra) gave you both was romantic rather than the familial/platonic that you were actually feeling. It took Asami pointing it out during an event for Korra for you to notice that you had a crush on Mako. It also took another five months for you to ask him out, which didn't go as planned due to the fact that he passed out since you decided to do it in the middle of a fight.

It wasn't one of your brightest moments. 

°°°

"On the left side are the Fire Ferrets!" The announcer yelled into the microphone as you and your team waved at the fans in the stadium. When Mako, Korra, and Bolin gave up pro-bending you decided to take over and brought on a fire bender named Anika and an earth bender named Genji. Anika was a recent addition to the team after the previous fire bender moved and she was way better, in your opinion at least. Genji was still wary of her. 

"And on the right, we have the Red Sand Rabaroos!" The all-girls team waved as you stepped off of the platform and stepped to the left while Anika took the front and Genji went to the right. You tried to spot Mako in the crowd but so many people were standing up and blocking people that it made it nearly impossible so you turned your attention back to the match.

At some point into the first round, you managed to knock Adi, their team's firebender, into the water advancing your team into their territory. With that bit of confidence, you jumped up and used your right leg to swing the water in the direction of Ula, their earth bender just as Anika finished sending a fire shot towards her stomach. The two hits sent her back a zone while Genji got hit in his side by a disc.

In most games, you ignored the announcers play by play since it took you out of the game and it helped a lot during final games but as he called time, you got hit by a disc. The pieces of rock shattered and got inside your helmet, one of them managed to scratch your cheek. 

"Yellow card to Ula just as the first round finishes!" The announcer yelled as you took your helmet off and dusted your face off. "First round goes to the Fire Ferrets!" Letting out a relieved sigh, you let your shoulders slump and walked over to the extended platform with the rest of your team. 

"You good?" Anika asked back in your little room in the area, a small patch of water on your check cleaned the small cut. There were smaller parts of rock inside it so you needed to get it out before you healed it.

   "Yeah," You nodded, moving your fingers to start to clean it, the water glowing a light blue as the familiar tingle rushed over your face. "Just a small cut," Dropping the water back into the bucket, you fixed your hair back and stood up, Anika following you up.

    "Are you-" She tried to speak but was cut off.

"Is it too late for a good luck kiss?" Mako asked from the entrance of the room, his hand on his hip and head tilted to the side.

   "Maybe I need two since you're late," You teased meeting the distance and pulled him close. He placed his hands on your face and rubbed your cheeks while you played with the end of his shirt.

   "Seems reasonable," He grinned as the both of you kissed twice, the second one longer than the first.

"Sorry I'm late, I got caught up with Prince Wu, he wouldn't let me leave until he found a new set of pajamas," He apologized, his hands slowly drifting to your shoulders. "I got in just as the match started, though," Unwrapping your arms from him, you were pulled away by the sound of the cabinet slamming closed. 

"Hey, Mako!" Genji greeted, walking over from outside the room, and shook his hand. "Nice of you to make it, (y/n) was pouting the whole time we were training. Going on about missing you," Gasping, you smacked his arm with the back of your hand and crossed your arms. 

   "Don't act like you weren't complaining about the fact that you had to go against Adi," You recalled, chuckling when he struggled to say something back. 

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend," Anika drifted off, her eyes moving from Mako to you. 

   "Oh, yeah," You nodded, hooking your arm around Mako's shoulder. "Anika, this is my wonderful boyfriend, Mako. He used to be the leader of the Fire Ferrets until he started working with the cops and then he came back and now he's working with Prince Wu," You trailed and the sour look on your face quickly went away before Mako had a chance to see and point it out.

"You make it sound bad," Mako laughed but stopped when the announcer said the next round was about to begin. "I'll see you after you guys win, nice meeting you Anika!" He gave a wave to the others and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving the room. 

The rest of the tournament went by relatively easy, your team ended up winning with a K.O. from Anika.

"You wanna grab a bite?" Genji asked you, Anika and Mako, on your way out of the arena, his hand running through his hair that was still damp from when he fell off of the platform in the second round. "Same place," It wasn't unusual for you to go and get a victory dinner with the team, it was slowly becoming a tradition. 

   "It's date night," You shook your head as Mako slowly eased his hand into your grip. "next time, though. See you!" Parting ways with the two, you looked over at Mako and gently pulled on his arm to get his attention.

"How about we head home and have some fun…" You trailed off, your eyes shifting from his to your hands as you rubbed the back of his hand. "Maybe we can finally put that rope to use," A while back Mako had gotten some rope that he wanted to use in the bedroom but up until now all of your chances to use them had been a spur of the moment and the idea wasn't even in either of your minds.

   "We better hurry then!" He agreed with a clearing of his throat, his grip tightened around your hand when he saw your moped knowing it would only be so long before you'd be home.

°°°

"Fuck!" You moaned as your face pressed against the white sheets of Mako's bed, unable to hold yourself up due to the fact that your arms were tied behind your back. The rope that held them also held your legs up, spreading you to be in the perfect position for Mako as he rammed himself inside of you. "Harder- ah- please!" Gripping the red robe as you felt Mako angle himself higher, your eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and the drool that was pooling on the sheets only got bigger.

   "You're so fucking hot like this, (y/n)," He whispered out, his hands coming down to get you off of the bed. His left hand was holding you by your stomach and the other was around your neck, the tips of his fingers pressed gently to the sides of your neck. "Look at you, so eager and ready for me," 

With your back to his chest, you were able to finally see him, his eyes were on the mirror beside the door that gave him the full view he was otherwise unable to see. Your legs were between his, your fingers just brushed the base of his dick that was twitching inside of you. You could feel your own twitch with every accidental thrust that came when he was admiring your body.

"Mako," You whined, dropping your head forward as you tried to bounce yourself on him. "Please, fuck me, please," Stretching your fingers as far as you could, you managed to loosely wrap them around his cock, the base was damp with lube but it wasn't as much as the rest of the shaft since he never bottomed out. His thrusts were always too fast for him to do so.

   "Is that what my prince wants?" He asked coyly, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as his hand that was previously around your neck trailed down to your neglected dick. "Hmm? Want me to press that handsome face of yours against the bed and have you screaming my name until you can't speak?" Nodding, you closed your eyes as he gave you a few pumps before you gasped at the feeling of his dick bottoming out.

"God, I love you," He kissed the sides of your neck before he pushed you back down to the bed and resumed his pounding. "Come on, darling, moan for me!" With an arch of your back, you called out his name, your eyes closing as you tried your best to push yourself back on him but with both of his hands keeping you in place you couldn't move.

"Don't stop! Please-" You were cut off by another moan as he gripped your hair, giving it a tug to pick your head up enough so that you could see the mirror.

   "Look at how hot you look, baby," He rasped, his eyes trailing from your ass to the mirror to meet your eyes. "Fuck, yes, keep looking at me," As much as you tried to keep your eyes on him, you found it getting increasingly harder with the tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasure. 

"Why're you crying?" He asked, his pace slowing down in case he was going too far and his hand dropped from your head but you shook your head and started moving your hips to bounce on him making him chuckle.

   "Feels good, keep going," You mumbled, trying to lift your head without his help but he went right back to what he was doing and leaned down. His lips grazed your back, they were slightly chapped but felt good nonetheless.

    "You're ethereal," He grunted, his pace getting slower and his thrust getting sloppy. "If I saw a picture of you I'd think you weren't real," Smiling at the compliments, your eyes closed again as you felt the knot in your stomach that had been there for a good couple of seconds start to unravel.

"I'm cumming," You panted out, your dick bobbing as you came on his sheets while it took him a bit longer. But it wasn't long before he was painting your insides white, the few twitches he gave along with it nearly tipped you over again. 

     "We should do this more often," He grinned while undoing the rope with a single tug at a certain loop, your arms and legs fell down without a moments notice and you collapsed onto the bed. "Poor baby," He cooed as you laughed and rolled over, cum now dripping out of you and smeared on your chest.

"I love you, too," You said, hooking your arms around his neck and gave him a tired smile. "But I'm so close to passing out," Mako only hummed and hooked his arms around you before he picked you up.

   "Go ahead, I'll clean you up," Nodding, you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the sleep that had washed over you pull you under while Mako took you to the bathroom.

[astonishinglegends]

Ep 205: Terry Carnation's "Dark Air" and Rich Hatem

“Imagine the universe, compressed on the head of a pin…”

– Scott’s remembrance of a Carl Sagan quote, which, turns out, probably originates from a parody impression of Carl Sagan

Description:

We have a very special guest joining us tonight, metaphysical "astralnaut," philosopher of the liminal, "Pope of the Paranormal," and host of the AM Radio talk show Dark Air, Terry Carnation. Terry first got his start in the paranormal radio genre when unexpectedly thrust into taking over for another show. While working as a late-night rock n' roll Disc Jockey for an FM station in Buffalo, NY, in 1992, Reginald Wilcox, the host of the paranormal call-in show that aired after Terry's slot was mysteriously murdered while Terry was in the bathroom... or so he claims. In his unflappable sense of duty, apparently stronger than his sense of legal obligation, Terry immediately took over the role of consigliere for listeners stupefied by the supernatural. And in Terry's words, "that's how a legend was created." Now, after a three-year hiatus, Terry Carnation returns with a new podcast, also called Dark Air, available starting April 1, 2021, wherever podcasts are given away for free. While you may not have heard of him, there will be something uneasily familiar about his voice and visage. And the audience will come to know his strange power for tearing off the head of disbelief and reaching down deep into our souls to yank out the viscera of our darkest fears and mysteries. Wrapped around our interview with Terry, our good buddy Rich Hatem joins us once again to discuss his latest adventures and projects. We'll also con him into playing our version of a game show, in the spirit of America's NPR radio program Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! and Britain's Would I Lie to You? We'll tell Rich three outrageous paranormal stories, and he has to guess which one is fake. Please join us for an episode of inscrutable levity.

Reference Links:

Terry Carnation’s website, TerryCarnation.com

Terry Carnation and Dark Air on Audioboom, where you can subscribe to the platform of your choice

Dark Air with Terry Carnation on Apple Podcasts

Follow Terry Carnation on Instagram

Follow Terry Carnation on Twitter

Terry Carnation on Facebook

Where to stream DC Titans

“TERRIBLE FLYING JELLY BAGS aka DOMSTEN BLOBS: (SWEDEN)” by Rob Morphy on cryptopia.us

National Public Radio’s Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me!

The BBC One panel show involving true and false tales, Would I Lie To You?

“The Story Behind The Haunted Donkey Lady Bridge In Texas Will Send Chills Down Your Spine” from OnlyInYourState.com

“South Texas Haunted Folklore: The Tale of the Converse Werewolf” from KSAT.com

On a totally unrelated subject…

Rainn Wilson is best known for playing the role of Dwight Schrute on NBC's The Office. Additional film and television credits include Galaxy Quest, Almost Famous, The Rocker, Super, Six Feet Under, Juno, Backstrom, Star Trek Discovery, Thom Pain, The Meg, Mom, Don't Tell a Soul and Utopia.  He will also be appearing in the forthcoming podcast Dark Air with Terry Carnation. Wilson co-founded SoulPancake, a digital media company, and the Lide Foundation, an educational initiative in rural Haiti that empowers at-risk women and girls through the arts.

Dark Air with Terry Carnation was created by Rainn Wilson and Aaron Lee and is produced by Thom Harp and Chris Kelly. Dark Air with Terry Carnation is a production of Imperial Mammoth, Audioboom and Kelly&Kelly. Theme music by Marcos Moscat

This episode features the voice talents of Jinous Khjadivian and Dana Davis as the two audience callers.

Please help out our good friend Stan Gordon, by purchasing his books on Amazon and Barnes & Noble – you’re gonna love ‘em!

At Barnes & Noble:

Silent Invasion: The Pennsylvania UFO-Bigfoot Casebook

Astonishing Encounters: Pennsylvania’s Unknown Creatures, Casebook 3

Really Mysterious Pennsylvania: UFOs, Bigfoot, and Other Weird Encounters, Casebook 1

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BetterHELP – Is there something interfering with your happiness or is preventing you from achieving your goals? BetterHELP will assess your needs and match you with your own licensed professional therapist. It’s not a Crisis Line, it’s not self-help, it’s professional counseling done securely online, and you can start communicating in under 48 hours. There’s a broad range of expertise available that may not be locally available in many areas, but this service is available for clients worldwide. You can login to your account anytime and send a message to your counselor. You’ll get timely and thoughtful responses plus you can schedule weekly video or phone sessions so you won’t ever have to sit in an uncomfortable waiting room as with traditional therapy. BetterHELP is committed to facilitating great therapeutic matches so they make it easy and free to change counselors if needed. It’s more affordable than traditional offline counseling and financial aid is available. BetterHELP wants you to start living a happier life TODAY! Read the testimonials that are posted daily. Join the over 1,000,000 people taking charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional. In fact, so many people have been using BetterHELP that they are recruiting additional counselors in all 50 states! This podcast is sponsored by BetterHELP and Astonishing Legends listeners get 10% OFF their first month at betterhelp.com/astonishing

Credits:

Episode 205: Terry Carnation’s “Dark Air“ and Rich Hatem. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel. Sound Design by Ryan McCullough; Tess Pfeifle, Producer, and Lead Researcher; Research Support from the astonishing League of Astonishing Researchers, a.k.a. The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2021 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[gayenerd]

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie 

by Tom Lanham 

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

 Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not). 

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids. 

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true. 

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake. 

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!" 

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers. 

* * * 

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not? 

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time. 

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves. 

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job. 

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living. 

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

 BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead. 

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right? 

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly. 

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs. 

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so... 

TC: Sickening! 

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too? 

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10? 

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music. 

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls. 

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

 Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]? 

MD: At work, doing their own thing. 

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her. 

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school. 

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable. 

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs. 

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky. 

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food. 

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen. 

Why name your disc Dookie? 

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer." 

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine. 

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"? 

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland! 

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night. 

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you. 

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label. 

Is Green Day angry? 

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry. 

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible. 

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently? 

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building! 

* * * 

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract. 

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set. 

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude. 

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura. 

* * * 

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless. 

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed. 

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids? 

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want. 

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways? 

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything. 

=Was this something you went through personally? 

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything. 

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show. 

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week! 

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move? 

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

 =I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you... 

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

 =OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction... 

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?" 

=And you let just anybody touch it? 

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced. 

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut. 

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89. 

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones. 

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it. 

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too? 

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time. 

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"? 

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!" 

=As they say, you can never go home again. 

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?" 

=And if that teacher could see you now! 

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself. 

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own? 

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give. 

* * * 

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #364

“you wanna know what zeus said to narcissus?  /  ‘you’d better watch yourself’“

Do you change your type of music regularly? Nah. I've ben all about metal and rock since middle school. Would you want to visit Tokyo, Japan, someday? It's not actually on my bucket list or anything, but I'd do it. Do you curse like a sailor? Sailors are better than I am, aha... Do you hear trains pass by where you live? No. Ever been in a race? Haha, no. Last time you’ve eaten a taco? I hate tacos. Do you like horses? Sure do! Do you like Starburst? omg YES. What is your favourite wild animal? MEERKATS!!!!!! :') Do you like hamsters? They're very cute, but I've never met a nice one. Do you eat bananas? Yeah, I like bananas, but I'm VERY picky with how ripe it is. There's like, barely a two-day span where I'm willing to eat them. What is your favourite bookstore? I don't have one. What is your favorite fast food joint? Sonic. Do you sweat easily? Ugh, you haven't the slightest idea. As a side effect of one (or two?) of my prescriptions, I have I N S A N E hyperhidrosis. I can stand outside for a millisecond in like 70 degree weather and I'm already sweating. If you could move (and SERIOUSLY think about this) where would you move? All factors considered, being entirely realistic, the mountain-y region of western NC. Why would you go there? I want to stay in NC to at least not be a massive ways away from my family, and I loooove mountains. Plus, there's a lot of cool places on the other end of the state. Do you want to travel? Yes. I want to see so much more than this boring 'ole state. What was the last vaccination you got? For Covid. Have there ever been any forest or grass fires in your area? There have been wildfires towards the beach, I believe? Any time it happened we would always get the smoke all the way where we live. Are you Italian? Not to my knowledge. Do you own an acoustic guitar? No. What is something you have given a lot of thought to lately? My physical health. When did you last swallow your beliefs to avoid an argument or confrontation? Recently. Can you roll your own cigarettes? I've never smoked, so. Are you mentally strong? I think so. I hope so. Are you physically strong? I am like, comically weak. Are you heartbroken right now? No. Do you ever get complimented on your eyes? What color are they? It's happened, but it's definitely not a regular thing or whatever. They're grayish blue. What facial feature do you like the best on a person? I'd say I'm most attracted to pretty eyes. What is the weirdest animal you’ve ever held? I helped hold a massive snake as a kid (I don't remember what it was), and I've also held a rose hair tarantula. I can't think of any truly strange animals by my opinion, really. Do you get extremely hyper when under the influence of sugar? No. Sugar seems to have zero effect on me, probably because I'm over-exposed to it thanks to soda... What about caffeine? Not at all, likely for the aforementioned reason. Have you ever tried any drugs? If so, did you regret it? Besides alcohol, no. I don't regret having drank as it was never a lot. Do you have any pregnant friends? A high school acquaintance is pregnant. I THINK she's the only one now? I swear I see a new pregnancy announcement on Facebook like every two days, and mind you I don't even have all that many "friends." That being said, I may definitely be forgetting someone. When ordering food, what do you usually get as a drink? Depending on whether they have Pepsi or Coke products, either Mountain Dew or Coke. When drawing something, do you try to be super precise or do you not care? I am so, so, SO obsessive over getting everything right, but things never come out as good as I want them to/imagine them. Have you actually read Twilight? I haven't. What about Harry Potter? Never read any of those, either. I started one in elementary school, but didn't get very far at all. Out of the two, which is better? I have like no interest in either, so. How often do you read books? It various. I go through like reading episodes, and then I don't read for months. Are you the jealous type? I'm not like, an insanely jealous person, but it's still the worst it's ever been at this point in my life. I hate it. Are you the type of person who gets jealous of people’s pasts? Nah, no reason to. Do you know anyone who faints at the sight of blood? Not blood, I think, but needles and drawing blood, yes. I know my dad's fainted at least once at the doctor, and Jason fainted when I was getting blood drawn at the ER. What colors are the eyes of your family members? Just about everyone has brown eyes but me, I think my maternal grandpa, and my brother. Are you related to anyone with red hair? Not to my knowledge. Were you a chubby baby? No, I was pretty average. What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? Social situations with strangers especially. Asking for things. Public speaking/presenting. What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? God, I remember there was this one night in particular where I stayed up SO late, but I don't remember the exact time. I think I actually cried because I was so stressed and tired. How many vegetarians do you know? In my personal life, I don't believe I know any, but I could be wrong. Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? I never did, even though I was always tired. Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No. Favorite episode of Spongebob? The pizza one, probably. Or the Hash Slinging Slasher episode. What bug frightens you most? Wasps, probably. Are your parents supportive of you? Yes. <3 How often do you take the train to go places? I've never been on a train. Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No. Do you own a pocketknife, or any other kind of multi-tool? No. What was the last thing you took a video of? Hm... I honestly don't remember. What’s something that used to really stress you out, but doesn’t anymore? Thunderstorms. Have you ever had famous neighbors? No. Pick your three favourite vegetables. Broccoli, green beans, and uh... I'm blanking... Habitually I wanna say "corn," but I know it's not technically a veggie, but starch. Have you ever broken a movie or game disc? I think I have? What is your favourite type of cookie? Chocolate chip. Can you rap freestyle? Or at least sing raps from songs? Ha, no. Have you ever shared a house with a significant other? Yeah. Do you scream at scary parts in a horror flick? No. I might jump a bit, but not always. What do you spend most of your time doing? Watching YouTube. Do you really care what’s going on in celebrities' lives? More like the YouTubers I watch. Have you ever broken a plate/bowl? Accidentally by dropping them. When was the last time you felt like you didn’t have a care in the world? I couldn't begin to guess. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Can you do a backwards london bridges? God no, I'd bust my back. What smiley do you use the most on the computer? (: maybe. Or :') Are any of your pets “overweight”? No, but why is "overweight" in quotations as if overweight pets aren't a real and serious issue? Has anyone ever bought you a ring? Yeah. On a scale 1-10, how funny are you? I honestly don't think I'm funny at all, so I'd put myself at a 1. Pretty recently though it was very surprising and flattering to have my dad and older sister point out that I'm "hilarious" with my wry sense of humor. I don't see it, but I mean, it was surely appreciated. What’s a song that is overplayed but you still like it anyway? I barely ever listen to the radio, yet I still know "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen is played a lot, but I could never get tired of it. Are you excited for Christmas? Christmastime is my favorite time of year nowadays, mainly because of how excited my niece and nephew always are, and we spend most of Christmas Day and usually Christmas Eve with them. I love the weather, the focus on togetherness, all that. What are you thankful for? Man, a lot. I try my best to never overlook all the truly amazing things I do have, like a loving and supportive family, a home, food and safe water, Internet haha, access to medical care (regardless of the complaints I have about American healthcare)... I've got a lot of bad going on in my life, but I've also got a great amount of good things, too. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on? Internet. What’s your favorite color combination? Maaan, don't do this. I really don't know. Probably two pastels, idk. Do you have any internet friends? I have more Internet friends than I do "real life" ones. What was the last song you listened to? "Deep Six" by Marilyn Manson earlier. How are you feeling right now? My arm is really sore from my second Covid shot, and I'm also having trouble breathing thanks to the dog (apparently, I'm allergic to whatever she is). I know it sounds bad, but I cannot wait 'til she's gone (from this house, no we're of course not euthanizing her). What color is the shirt you’re wearing? Burgundy. Do you play video games? Yeah, just not as much as I used to. Have you ever been to a club and had someone slip something into your drink? I've never been to a club period, and I don't plan on it. Do you know anyone who’s done ecstasy? Not to my knowledge, anyway. Are you on birth control? Yes, but only to regulate and soothe my menstrual cycle. My cramps were insufferable prior. Does your sibling have a significant other? All but my younger sister. Like she's in contact with who she calls "contenders," haha, but she isn't officially dating anyone. She's MEGA picky with who she dates. Have you ever cried at a real wedding? Yes, because it was very triggering to my PTSD. Any idea what you want for your next birthday? That's quiiite a whiles away, so I have plenty of time to think about that. I don't know if I'll be employed by then and thus able to buy some things myself, but I'll just say I won't be (because I'm I think rationally fearful that's where I'll still be). For Christmas I plan on just asking for a new terrarium for Venus plus better materials for it (like a proper temp gauge and hygrometer, etc.), and with that taken care of, then I might be interested in asking for a hognose for my bday, but idk. I'd want to ensure (s)he starts out with a perfect terrarium, and seeing as I want a hoggie morph, that's a lot of money in one go that idk if I'd be comfortable asking. So I'unno, maybe I'll go for a tattoo again. Wow, this was a lot of rambling for something so far off, pardon me haha. Are there any gadgets of yours that need charging right now? My Nintendo DS Lite, actually. I can't find the darn charger for it, and I really need to so I can bring it to Ashley's again for the kids to play the Pokemon game I have that they love. Aubree especially is really into it, and she adores Pikachu and Eevee. :') Which awards show would you wanna go to the most (e.g Oscars, Grammys etc.)? I don't even know what most award shows are for, if I'm being honest. I'm not really interested. What colour is your keyboard? Black, but each key glows red. Have you ever been called a skank/slut because of the way you dress? No. Are you a fan of acrylic nails? Not for myself; I think they'd drive me insane. I do, however, think they look nice on others.

[doomedandstoned]

Italian Doomers BRETUS Tell Ghostly Tales on New LP, ‘Magharia’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Artwork by DamianaMerante

Hailing from the City of the Two Seas, Italian doomers BRETUS return with a new album of ghost stories. Longtimers know that Bretus and Doomed & Stoned practically grew up together. Though the band has been active since the turn of the century, our first exposure came with their debut full-length 'In Onirica' (2012) and subsequently we formed a friendship with the Catanzaro doomers that continues to this very day. It's hard to believe they're already over two decades old (okay, 20 years young, if you like). And what do they have to show for it? A handful of LPs, an EP, and a split with fellow Italianos Black Capricorn.

If you're as much a fan of vintage horror movies, H.P. Lovecraft lore, mysticism, and the occult as Zagarus (vox), Ghenes (guitar), Janos (bass), and Striges (drums), there's a whole world of story and sound awaiting your deep dive into the Bretus catalog. Adding to their already excellent discography, a fifth album now reveals itself: 'Magharia' (2021).

I won't spoil my interview with the band (see below) if I tell you that the album concerns, shall we say, several tales of the supernatural variety. An ominous gong is struck to the backdrop of monastic chant as Magharia opens in epic fashion "Celebration of Gloom," a song characterized by a chugging proto-trash tempo, trve metal stylings, and Gothic vocals appropriate to it's subject. It's a rather grim account of a certain sacrilegious priest and his daliences with young women of the church. As a preacher's kid, I've seen this kind of thing play out a hundred times and can assure you these sweeping romances between clergy and laity never end well. In this case, it winds up with a ghoulish rite and a victim's vengeance.

"In the sky lightning strikes...wicked laments rise from the ground." Welcome to "Cursed Island." True to the spirit of the lyrics, this track really let's it all hang out, with quasi operatic vocals that occasionally erupt in maniacal laughter (reminding me vintage Reagers-era Saint Vitus, with its lusty swagger). And why not? This is after all about the mystery that surrounds one of the most haunted islands on earth.

Thus far, the record's been sporting a pretty up-beat pulse, so surely you're ready for some good old fashion doom? "Moonchild's Scream" concerns a albino girl accused of being possessed by the devil for her appearance. One day, she disappears in the dungeons of a castle and legend has it that her cries can still be heard every five years during the Summer Solstice. Doesn't get more doom than that, folks!

After a brief interlude ("Necropass"), we arrive at my favorite track of Magharia. "Nuraghe" concerns the spirit of a woman judged and condemned for a crime she was innocent of still roams among the ancient stones. Boy, the ancients sure did have a hang-up with free-spirited, independent women, didn't they? The song itself is possessed by the spirit of Pentagram in its biting guitar work and rhythmic attack. Love the riffage on this one! Some of it could have been played out just a little more for my taste, like the all-too-brief Soundgardenesque motif at the two-minute mark. It returns a minute later, again in brief. C'mon Ghenes, let your inner Kim Thayil loose! Maybe we can convince them to improv at this point with a bitchin' guitar solo at their next festival appearance. Then again, perhaps this fits artistically with the song, which speaks of obscure "grim dancing bats" and a ghost that haunts through swift shadows passing over glimmers of light. Once again, Zagrus expressive song style comes through to distinguish this as a gem of the genre. I shall be revisiting it on my personal playlist often.

"Headless Ghost" strikes graceful Goatsnake groove as the yarn is spun about the restless and tormented soul of an ancient Roman warrior who has risen from his place of rest. All he wants is the skull that was looted from his place of burial. Give it back to him! "No one will be spared tonight," the lyrics warn, as the song shifts down to a dire doom dirge as the night unveils a strange moon and the wanderings of a cursed soul, seeking his head and not more. "He is living again in this hell."

"The Bridge of Damnation" is one of the creepiest of the record, said to be about "a bridge, a young boy, and his three torturers." The mood is quite dark, with esoteric atmosphere, reverberating vocalizations, guitar and bass trading off notes. Oh, and did I mention this tale from the crypt involves death and resurrection, as well? The riffmaking and drumming are absolutely on point, as is the singing -- which by now in the record I'm not only am accustomed to, but have grown to admire. Another keeper!

"Sinful Nun" winds and grinds as Zagarus croons about the inner torment of a Sister who has never gotten over her beloved, who died under such unspeakably tragic circumstances that she decided to consecrate herself to God in celibacy. However, her vows are in vain as she still pines for her long lost lover. The verses are sung to the accompaniment of a galloping tempo, which seems to represent the fevered anguish of a soul forever stricken by grief and the haunted memories of lost love. This is juxtaposed in the chorus by a cursed riff that seems to speak as the Hand of Fate itself. "Farewell to this life," are the Sinful Nun's final words.

At last, we reach the album's namesake and though "Magharia" is entirely instrumental, it would be a mistake to assume you know what it's going to do. Around the four-minute mark, I had to check and make sure I was listening to the same album, as dark synth busted out a metronomic rhythm, leading to a declamatory section of keyboards to accompany the math-like guitar play and an improvisation of almost creepy seventies-sounding prog, which after its playful fit dissipates suddenly in a bluesy collapse.

Bretus have cooked up a remarkable horror soundtrack that, though it speaks of ancient lore, is very much a fitting backdrop to the unreality of our own times. Fitting somewhere on the stylistic spectrum between Candlemass and Paul Chain, Reverend Bizarre and Cardinals Folly, Margharia may be the band's finest effort to date. Certainly, it rewards repeated listens, and will haunt you for many years to come. Look for the record to drop this weekend (pre-order here), with multiple physical formats releasing via The Swamp Records (compact disc), Burning Coffin Records (cassette), and Overdrive Records (vinyl). Until then, you can stream it all, right now, right here!

Give ear...

Magharia by BRETUS

An Interview with Bretus

What is the concept behind the new album and what themes do you explore?

Musically the new record is most "in your face" than the previous album. Also our approach to the recording was different. We rehearsed and arranged together more than before. The result is an album more raw to us. It is a concept album born around different italian old ghost tales. Some of these is supposed to be legend or myth, who knows.

When did you write it? Was it during the pandemic lockdowns?

We had more ideas about new stuff long before the pandemia arrived. We spent this time working on the pre-production of the tracks.

Can you give us a track-by-track explanation of each song on the album?

For sure!

"Celebration of Gloom" is a strange song because there are many influences in it. Including a solo flute in the middle of the track. However is a very loud and gloomy song.

"Cursed Island" probably is the most rock 'n' roll song of the album. If you know what I mean. Rock in the attitude. Also the first video of the album.

"Moonchild's Scream" is 100% pure Doom with a heavy mid-section.

"Necropass" is like Caronte travelling the damned souls across the Stige River.

"Nuraghe" is a heavy oriented track with a very dark feeling.

"Headless Ghost" has a more stoner trend than the others and in the end there is a psycho riffing.

"The Bridge of Damnation" includes our '80s dark influences into our sound, probably the most haunted track of the album. The story is based upon an old weird story that happened in our native city, Catanzaro.

"Sinful Nun" is like an experiment and neither of us can explain really what it is... ah ah aha! For sure the most heavy track of all.

Finally "Magharia." You cannot believe it but the idea comes from a Who's album, Quadrophenia. Either of us wrote a part of the song. The result is a kind of horror soundtrack.

Magharia by BRETUS

How do you feel that your basic style or approach to song composition has changed since you first started writing songs in the early days?

You already know a lot of things about us, we know you from so long ago! Please don't ask how old we are. (laughs) Basically our approach is the same from the beginning. Of course we listen to a lot of new stuff during these years so every album brings different "colors."

Where are you most looking forward to playing live once pandemic restrictions are eased?

Everywhere! We are angry for live gigs or simply to drink beers with friends.

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[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Day Seven

Day Seven of the Hello Spring 2020 Writing Prompt Challenge

Characters- Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Fem! Reader

Prompt- “Are we friends?” “No.”

Warnings- Drinking? Dean being illegally attractive?

Wordcount- 2,050

           You’re sitting in the bunker with Charlie for your rare movie night. Things haven’t been settled enough for the two of you to really see each other, between the last world-ending event, your normal hunts, and Charlie’s responsibilities as Queen of a LARP Kingdom. Ahead of you waits a movie marathon- you would bet money Charlie picked Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings series- girl talk, and movie snacks, and even better, a night off from ganking monsters or stitching yourself and the boys up. 

               Sam and Dean had even left the bunker for the night, going to have some “brotherly bonding”, which you suspected was a cover for probably getting themselves arrested, absolutely piss-drunk, or both. “Alright, up for some Harry Potter?” Charlie exclaims, already sliding the disc into the large telly Dean had hooked up to what he and Sam called the “Dean-cave” (you refused to call it that). “Obviously. While we watch, you can finish telling me all about this girl you met.” You tease, wiggling your brows playfully at your red-headed best friend. Charlie laughs and agrees, and you grab the popcorn and change into your pyjamas.

               You were both laughing so hard your stomach ached over the story of your latest hunt- on which Dean had tripped right into the grave you’d dug, and the lid of a coffin had closed, trapping him with a skeleton- when the bunker doors open, familiar footsteps clunking down the stairs. “Y/N? Charlie?” Dean calls, peering into the room. “Hey, Dean. What are you doing back so early?” You ask, turning to face him questioningly. “Stealing my popcorn, apparently!” Charlie gasps, looking affronted as Dean reaches over to steal a handful of her popcorn. You laugh, and Dean winks, quickly munching on the popcorn with an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Friends share, Charlie.” He states seriously. “Are we friends?” Charlie asks, and now it’s Dean’s turn to act offended. “No. Apparently, Y/N is the only nice one here.” Dean huffs, green eyes narrowing at Charlie as he crosses his arms over his chest. You snicker and shove the tall hunter’s shoulder playfully. “Who says I’m nice?” You quip, raising a brow. “Unbelievable. You two are- are ganging up on me!” Dean shouts, throwing his hands in the air, and directing a glare at you and Charlie, while you only gave an innocent smile. “Payback for interrupting girl’s night. Now get out, Winchester, unless you want to hear all about my date from last week!” You smirk, Dean’s ears going red as he mumbles inaudibly and whirls around. “I am gone!” He calls from over his shoulder.

            You and Charlie laugh at Dean’s expense before you turn back to watch the movie, except her playful smirk that can only mean she’s up to no good is now directed at you. “What? I don’t like it when you look at me like that, Char.” You say nervously. “Oh, nothing. It’s just interesting, is all.” Charlie shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk only growing. “What.” You demand, less a question and more an order now. “You and Dean. How long has that been going on?” Charlie questions eagerly, leaning closer to you. You nearly choke on air. “Me- Dean and- What?!” You sputter, eyes as wide as moons. “Oh, please, Y/N, as your best friend, it is my sacred duty to inform you that you two are making major heart-eyes at each other. It’s kinda gross, actually, in a cute way.” Charlie snorts, rolling her eyes at your apparent obliviousness. “Charlie, I think you’ve been watching too many rom-coms.” You scoff. “Y/N, are you serious? You can tell me, I swear I won’t say anything.” Charlie pleads, giving you a pair of puppy-dog eyes almost as convincing as Sam’s. You sigh, realizing she isn’t giving up, and resign yourself to your fate.

          “Alright, fine, you got me. I may, sort of, just a wee bit, kind of... fancy Dean.” You admit. “But if you tell anyone, or even think about it near him, Charlie, I swear to God, I will bloody murder you!” You rush out, panicking at the thought she might let something slip. You loved Charlie, but she was kind of awful at keeping things hush-hush, and you would die from embarrassment if Dean ever found out about your not-so-platonic feelings for him. “I knew it! This is like, amaze-balls, Y/N! In the books the tension was so unreal, and in person, it’s killing me! Dean is totally crushing on you!” Charlie squeals, her face lighting up at your admission. “Holy Batman, you guys are just so cute together! You have to tell him!” Charlie insists. “Charlie, you’re insane. We get along great, and our friendship is really important to me. I’m not going to risk that because of some stupid feelings. Look, Char, I love for trying to convince me to take the chance, but it just isn’t gonna happen, and that’s okay. I’d rather be Dean’s friend than a hook-up or something.” You sigh. “But Y/N, I’m totally serious! You should see the way he looks at you-” “I’m attractive, and I’m a woman. Of course he looks at me. Lust and love are two very different things, Char. Can we- can we just drop it, please?” You ask, mood much more subdued now. “Okay. You’re wrong, though. You’re the Hermione to Dean’s Ron.” Charlie says softly, letting the topic go and playing the next movie.

               What neither of you know is that Dean had walked back, about to inform you of the next hunt, and heard everything from your threat on Charlie’s life, to Charlie’s weird, Harry Potter-themed comparison. Dean stood frozen in the hall, and almost dropped his beer in utter shock, his swift reflexes preventing him from being caught. He was glad no one saw him, because he was sure he’d turned a brighter red than Charlie’s hair, eyes bugging out of his head. Dean had been harboring the world’s biggest crush on you since the moment you’d met- first time the Winchester brothers saw you, you were spattered with blood (whose blood it was was impossible to tell) and had just eradicated a nest of at least five vampires, alone, and Dean was pretty sure he’d frozen and stared at you for a full minute- and had kept it to himself (except Sam, who somehow knew about Dean’s feelings before Dean knew about Dean’s feelings) the entirety of the four years he’d known you. The whole time, he didn’t think for a second you might feel the same way. For a split-second, he wondered if he was dreaming, the surprise of hearing you say out loud that you, Y/N L/N, actually fancied him, Dean Winchester, making his head spin and heart rate accelerate dangerously. And he knew exactly what he had to do.

                You and Charlie had shoved Dean Winchester and all relating topics aside, completely focused on catching up on all that you’d missed, and laughing over inside-jokes and the movies. “Hey, I just had a great idea.” You say suddenly. “What?” Charlie demands excitedly, smiling wide. “Snacks are great and all, but what would really make this a party is some tequila.” You grin, eyes bright with mischief. Tequila was Charlie’s weakness- two glasses in, and she’d be three sheets to the wind, and singing loudly and off-key whatever horrible pop song came into her head for hours, until she eventually passed out. “Absolutely not!” Charlie denies instantly. “Knew you’d say that. You’re no fun.”, you say with a smile, “but if you insist on denying me my own private concert, I’ll break out the cheap booze instead.” You finish. “Be right back! And don’t watch without me!” You shout warningly, Charlie giggling behind you and claiming she made no such promises. 

              You were still grinning as you made your way to the kitchen and the cabinet which housed bottles of cheap, but effective, alcohol. Rummaging through your options and humming classic rock to yourself, you didn’t notice someone else entering the room. “I hope you two aren’t drinking tequila. I don’t think I can handle a three-hour repeat of Charlie singing “Walking on Sunshine” again.” Dean’s low voice chuckles, the sound of his warm timbre sending warmth to your cheeks instantly as you recall the conversation about him from earlier. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. Just some trashy vodka tonight. I think the trick is to get her drunk before mentioning the tequila so she won’t be so sensible and say no.” You laugh, turning around with the bottle in your hand. Your breath catches at how close Dean is, close enough to count every freckle, to see every colour in his unfairly gorgeous messy green eyes. Your nervous smile falters under the intensity of his gaze- normally, when he’s as focused and determined, it’s because he’s staring down some demon or monster. Now he’s staring at you, and the air feels charged, and then his eyes drop from yours to your lips. It’s an effort not to let the glass bottle slip from your hand to the wood floor, and you should probably get going, really shouldn’t be doing this, but the rational part of your brain is drowned out in the overwhelming wave of Dean, and his smell, like good whiskey and leather and gasoline, and his eyes, which were seriously too beautiful to even be possible, and the way he was looking at you. He moves, and this time, you do drop the bottle, thankful for Dean’s quick reflexes as he catches it, and places it behind him on the island without looking, his plump lips crashing onto yours, stubble scratching your cheeks in a way that ignites a blaze of fire in your belly. 

            You kiss back just as passionately, all teeth and tongue and hands that map your body but stay above the waist in a way that’s so gentlemanly and so not. Just as swiftly as the kiss began, Dean ends it, pulling away barely, so you’re breathing the same air, chests heaving. It’s silent for a long moment, just staring at one another, your mind replaying the scene a million times. “You should get back to Charlie.” He murmurs, looking dazed and unfocused, but his eyes are still fixed on you. “Yeah.” You nod, suddenly insecure- was this his way of changing his mind, letting you know the kiss had been a mistake. Something in your expression or flashing through your eyes must give you away, because Dean gently cups your jaw in his rough, warm hand. “Hey,” he says, making you meet his eyes again, the green of them turned dark and hungry, but he’s looking at you with such tenderness, too, “you and me, we’re gonna talk, and I’m gonna kiss you again, probably a lot, but if you don’t walk out of this kitchen soon, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.” Dean says roughly, drinking you in. You suppress a shiver at the insatiable look in his eyes, the firm set to his jaw, and carefully step around him. 

                 You take the vodka bottle, and grip it so tight your knuckles turn white, like it’s the only thing keeping you from jumping the hunter right there in the kitchen. Dean watches your every move, and at the threshold, you look back at him. “So, I take it you fancy me then, right?” You ask, needing to hear confirmation. His lips draw into a smirk, and you want to kiss the smug expression off his face. “Give Charlie a thank you for me. Never been so glad for her Harry Potter references in my life.” Dean replies, watching in amusement as you flush red, realizing he heard you little talk with Charlie. “Hope she wasn’t spendin’ the night.” “Why’s that?” You dare to ask. “’Cause we’ve got plans.” Dean smirks, cocking a brow at you, waiting for you to tell him if he was crossing a line. “I’ve seen Harry Potter too many times anyways.” You mutter, meeting his cocky grin with one of your own, and quickly leaving the kitchen.

             “Charlie, I will never doubt you again, as long as I live.” “Well, good, but what happened?” “You and Sam hang out tonight.” “Huh? But- sleepover! Why?” “I’ve got plans.”

TAGS-

@ibwhellowriting​

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Black Dahlia (Chapter 1)

-blows trumpet- Bum-ba-da-dum-bum-bum-BAH! Here it is, the main story of the Black Dahlia series! I am honestly so proud of myself, because I waited until I had it all written out before I posted it; it took me ALL DAMN SUMMER, but it’s finally done! I know it’s basically Scooby Doo and KISS: Rock N Roll Mystery with an added character, but I’ve taken the time to flesh out Black Dahlia’s character a bit. Hope you enjoy! 

She could hear the flowers as she filled up her watering can. They didn’t have a voice in the traditional sense, in that they formed words, but they had a voice of sorts, and that was what she heard.

“It’s all right,” she said aloud as she turned off the water. “I’m coming,”

She knew they couldn’t hear her. Once upon a time, they could… but not anymore. She couldn’t hear them as well, either. Once she could hear them as plainly as she heard everyone else. But as time passed, and as she aged, the voices faded, until they were only a faint whisper.

She went around her house, watering the various plants. Along the way she passed her radio, which had beside it a whole shelf lined with CDs. She paused at her shelf, smiling fondly at her music collection. Earth definitely had produced many amazing rock bands. They all reminded her of the music of home.

She was just finishing when the doorbell rang. She put down her watering can, went to the door, and opened it. Standing on her front porch were four young adults and a Great Dane. 

“Hey, Aunt Heather!” Fred greeted her. 

Heather McMann smiled. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite nephew!”

“I’m your only nephew,” Fred reminded her, still grinning. They did this exchange whenever they met.

“Exactly. C’mere, you!”

Heather hugged Fred tightly, then turned to the others. “Hey, kids. And hello, Scooby,”

“Hi, Miss McMann,” Velma said respectfully. “It’s great to see you,”

Heather shook her head as she ushered them inside. “Velma, what have I said about calling me ‘Miss McMann’?”

“Like, that it makes you feel old,” Shaggy piped up helpfully.

“Reah, rold,” Scooby agreed.

Heather pointed at them and nodded. “Exactly,”

“Well, you look great,” Daphne interjected. The redhead looked to be in an exceptionally good mood today.

Heather grinned and flicked a lock of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Of course I do, honey,” 

Once the gang had settled down at her kitchen table with drinks, and Shaggy and Scooby had raided her fridge (she made a mental note to go grocery shopping soon), Heather popped open her can of Lacroix and asked, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from my favorite nephew and his friends?”

“Well—” Fred began, but Daphne interrupted, so excited her words came out in a rush.

“WegotacallfromKISSWorldtocomesolveamysteryandwewantedtoknowifyou’dcomewithus!”

Heather paused and looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “… Run that by me again? And slower, please,”

Daphne took a sip of her drink to calm herself, then repeated what she said. “We got a call from KISS World to come solve a mystery, and we wanted to know if you would come with us,”

Heather tilted her head curiously. “KISS World?”

Velma shrugged. “Apparently, KISS has an entire theme park,”

“Oh, I know, Velma,” She had heard about it when it opened, but had never conjured up the guts to go. It was probably overpriced, anyway. “But I didn’t think there would be any problems at KISS World. Aren’t they having a Halloween concert there?”

She never dared venture out of her house on Halloween. Not when a certain being could show up…

Daphne nodded. “Yeah, they are. That’s why they called us. If we don’t solve the mystery, the concert could be canceled!”

Heather raised her eyebrows. “Now that is a catastrophe,” she agreed. She hated it as much as anyone when a rock concert had to be canceled. But she had the feeling Daphne was a bit more concerned about a KISS concert being canceled. “So you’re going, I’m guessing?”

Shaggy swallowed the bite of his snack and nodded. “Like, yeah, of course we are! It’s KISS, man! What more reason do ya need?”

Heather smiled and toasted him with her can. “Too true, my man. But why do you want me to come along with you?”

“Well, you do love KISS,” Velma reasoned. “A lot. Why do you love them so much, anyway?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Heather glanced over at her CDs, most of which were indeed KISS albums. Her smile turned wistful for a moment. Then she shrugged. “I just do, Velma. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well…” Fred said sheepishly. “… You’ve only left your house on Halloween once, and that was to take me trick-or-treating when I was ten. And we haven’t hung out in a while, plus you said a while ago it’s been ages since you’ve been to a rock concert. I just thought maybe, you could come with us, and after we solve the mystery, we could all go to the concert?”

Heather stared at him for a second. Then she smiled. Fred may have been a little odd with his obsession with traps and horrible acapella bands, but dang if he wasn’t the sweetest. He got it from his mother. “Aw, Freddy!” she cooed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “That’s so sweet of you!”

“So you’ll go?” Shaggy asked eagerly.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go somewhere on Halloween, just once. Maybe it would turn out okay. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The gang cheered, and Heather laughed.

Maybe it would turn out okay…

-KISSTERIA-

And that was how Heather McMann found herself sitting with Shaggy and Scooby in the back of the Mystery Machine as it rolled down the highway, with a black box of green face paint and a brush in her hands.

“Okay, Scooby, you ready?”

Scooby nodded happily. “Ruh-huh!”

“Okay, hold still,”

Heather dipped her brush into the green paint and began to paint the area around Scooby’s eyes green. The whole gang, except for Fred, had decided to dress up as KISS; Daphne was Starchild, Shaggy was Demon, Velma was Spaceman, and Scooby, in the funniest twist of irony, was Catman. Fred flat-out refused to dress up, saying he didn’t want to look stupid. Heather had refused as well, and currently wore her very ordinary outfit of black Converse, white washed jeans, a plain red shirt and her favorite black leather jacket. As usual, her pendant shaped like a black dahlia flower hung around her neck.

“Daphne, sweetie, you sure you don’t want me to draw the star?” Heather called.

“No thanks, I’m good,” Daphne replied, and returned to sketching the outline of a star over her right eye.

“Like, I can’t believe we get to go to KISS World!” Shaggy exclaimed excitedly as Heather finished on Scooby’s face. He gave her a lick on the cheek in thanks.

“And solve a mystery,” Velma added. “That’s like killing two birds with one stone!”

Scooby popped up, eager to show off his finished makeup. “Reah! Or two birds rith one cat!”

Heather laughed as she moved up to sit with Velma in the backseat. “It’s awesome to see you guys so excited,”

“Like, you look excited, too, Heather,��� Shaggy commented.

Heather kept smiling. If she were to be honest, she was excited. She hadn’t left her house on Halloween in years, and now here she was, going to see the boys in concert. Almost exactly like the good old days…

“Personally, I find their sideshow act a little juvenile,” Velma stated. “But my mother told me to take a more active role in my friends’ interests.” She shrugged sheepishly at Heather. “Sorry, Heather.”

Heather shook her head. “It’s fine, Velma. We’re all interested in different things.”

“Well, I’m pretty interested in Starchild,” Daphne piped up. Her star was almost completely colored in. “He’s so dreamy,” she sighed as she went back to painting.

Heather saw Fred’s head turn slightly to glance at her, then he jerked the steering wheel to the left. The van immediately swerved left, throwing them all to the side, and causing Daphne’s brush to jerk away, leaving a black streak across her face.

“Hey!” Daphne protested.

“Sorry, everyone,” Fred apologized, though he didn’t sound sincere.

Daphne pointed her finger accusingly at him. “You did that on purpose!”

Shaggy looked at her black streak and laughed. “Like now it looks like a shooting star. Make a wish, Scoob!”

“Uh, I wish I was eating a Scooby Snack!” Scooby said cheerfully.

“Good one, dude. Uh, I wish I could breathe fire like the Demon!” Shaggy stuck out his tongue and pretended to breathe fire.

Amused, Heather put a finger to her cheek and played along. “Hmm… I wish my bluebells would listen when I tell them to grow. They’ve been real stubborn lately.”

“I wish you’d all come to your senses,” Fred said to them. “You don’t see me acting ridiculous over my favorite group, the Ascot Five, do you?” He reached into the glove compartment and took out a CD, showing five men wearing white shirts and ascots smiling cheesy smiles.

Heather rolled her eyes at her nephew as he loaded the CD into the CD player. He was literally dressed the same way as the guy in the center.

“Oh noooooo, don’t tug my ascot. Don’t tug my ascot (it’s not a scarf, no baby). You can’t have my ascot ‘cause girl, it’s mine.”

Shaggy and Scooby stuck out their tongues in disgust, while Heather’s face scrunched up as she tried to hide her disgust.  How can my own nephew like such a lame band?

Luckily, Daphne ejected the disc. “Fred, please,”

“I’m just saying,” Fred insisted, “I think they’re twice the band KISS is!”

“Fred, they’re a lame do-wop band from the sixties,” Heather deadpanned.

“Yeah, and do the Ascot Five have an awesome amusement park?” Shaggy asked pointedly.

“Reah, rawesome amusement park!” Scooby agreed.

“Quit being so stupid, Fred,” Daphne said snappishly to him.

“I am not being stupid!”

“Yes, you are!”

Heather leaned over into the front seat. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Daphne, Fred doesn’t like KISS, and that’s fine. And Fred, it’s fine that you like the Ascot Five, just don’t judge the rest of us for liking KISS. All right?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then Fred and Daphne nodded.

Heather nodded, smiling. “Good.” She turned to Daphne. “We can fix the star, I think. Or you could be the Bandit. Starchild went by the Bandit for a while.”

Daphne turned to her curiously. “I didn’t know that,”

“You really know a lot about KISS,” Velma remarked.

“Yeah,” Shaggy agreed. “Like, how do you know so much about KISS, Heather?”

Heather smiled mysteriously at them, though internally she was hit by an onslaught of nostalgia. “That’s my little secret,” 

[callmeblake]

Frank Iero (X)

Photo Credit: Mitchell Wojcik

Interview in Brazil rolling stone published April 27th, 2019

Excerpt:  "I really like the 'honeymoon' period of starting a band. You know, pick the musicians you want to play with, what sound, aesthetics, and all those things are going to be. That way, I can do this every time [ I release a disc ]. I feel that if I change the musicians, and each album is something new, and the band is different, then I also need a new name. But I put my name on the front to try to avoid confusion, " Iero explained in an interview for Rolling Stone Brazil .

Read the full interview with the musician:

You've had three different projects with three different names since the end of My Chemical Romance. Because?

I really like the "honeymoon" period of starting a band. You know, pick the musicians you want to play with, what sound, aesthetics, and all those things are going to be. So I can do this every time [ I release a record ]. I feel that if I change the musicians, and each album is something new, and the band is different, then I also need a new name. But I put my name on the front to try to avoid confusion.

When I started doing these solo projects, I did not think much about how to follow this path. It was never my original wish, I did not want to have the feeling that I used My Chemical Romance as a stepping stone for solo careers. When I saw that I was following this path, I realized that I could do whatever I wanted and do anything that made my effort worthwhile.

"Young and Doomed" has a pretty heavy lyrics, and this hardcore punk style. What does this tell us about your new album, Barriers ? What can we expect?

I think this is the beauty of this whole adventure alone. Each disc has a completely different sound. You can wait for the unexpected.

"Young and Doomed " was a good first impression. Because I really think that when you write a disc, you have at least one or two songs that are almost like a map to indicate the directions from where you go. And when the album is released, there are at least one or two songs that are a map to show where you've been. I believe that music was a continuation of the celebration of our disorder. The idea that no matter what we go through, some things are inherited traits.

These feelings of anxiety and depression, and addictions, are things that exist in you, even if you grew up in a good house in the suburbs .. These things stay in your head. The idea is to realize that your failures in truth are not failures, but rather aspects that make us unique people. No one is problematic in exactly the same way, and so I think people are so intriguing and beautiful because we are not perfect. No one is. Everyone has something unique that makes us an individual, and we should be proud of that.

The Barriers tour began in March, after a year away from the stage. What was it like playing in front of an audience again?

It was extremely scary. This was the first time I've been so far from the stage since I started my career. I did my first show at the age of 13, and went on tour at age 17. So since I was 13 or 14, I never stayed that long without playing.

If something has defined you for so long, and you stop doing it, you get the feeling of 'who am I?' I started going into real life, staying home and with my family, and I thought, 'Maybe I do not need to do shows as much as I thought.'

But then I started a new album, and set presentation dates, and I knew I needed it again. And there came another fear: 'Oh my god, do I still know how to do it?' I feel like a completely different person, but I dove into it very fast. Now I'm enjoying myself a lot.

You have just arrived in South America and have already played in Peru and Chile. The last time I came to Brazil was in 2008, with My Chemical Romance. What are your expectations for the show in São Paulo?

Man, everything has changed since 2008. I went to Brazil with My Chem 'and played only one show, and then my grandmother had a stroke. He got very ill and had to go to the hospital, and I came home and did not do the rest of the tour. My grandmother eventually passed away.

I do not remember much [ the season ] because it was a turnaround in my personal life, but it's a tour I always wanted to do, and it was something that was taken from me, and I hoped to be able to come back ever since. It took 11 years, so I'm really looking forward to doing this show. I feel like it's a story of overcoming.

It's been almost 20 years since you started your career with Pencey Prep [ playing punk ]. Since then, and until today, you play hardcore. Some people say style is no longer relevant. What do you think about this?

[ Laughs ] This is ridiculous. Rock ‘n’ roll is completely relevant. I think what we have is a music industry terrorism, like, 'Oh no, rock is not doing as well as pop, so do not go out of the mainstream, do not do anything different, because if it does not work we're screwed,' and this is the wrong decision.

Rock ‘n’ roll was made to be dangerous, to go beyond, and we only have a lot of mainstream rock that is not doing it. What we need to do is look ahead. There are so many new bands that defy boundaries and are doing amazing things; if you love rock, you probably know that.

But I do not know, relevancy and album sales have never meant anything to me. I only do what I love.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Vol. 4, Number 11

Blink and 2018 is just about over, at least in terms of music releases, at least if you don’t follow best ofs, mainstream hip hop or holiday music. As we close in on another year of amazing music—but what year isn’t, really?— Dusted takes a moment to dig through the piles and write some short, mostly positive reviews of albums that might have gotten slept on. As usual, writers follow their interests through expansive drone, transcendental folk, incendiary free-jazz, metal, punk and gospel-tinged Americana. Contributors this time included Ethan Covey, Justin Cober-Lake, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer and Jonathan Shaw.

Bitchin Bajas — Rebajas (Drag City)

Bitchin Bajas are a band made for deep exploration. Their hallucinatory, drone-based excursions are like an old couch — sink in, stretch out and stay a while. Rebajas, released this fall by Drag City, makes that task simple. The seven CD set features most everything the band has released since their debut in 2010: eight full albums and their contribution to various split albums. If you’re dipped into Bitchin Bajas previously, you’ll know what you’re getting. (And if you haven’t there’s little chance this package, or this review of it, is where you’d start.) That said, for those with a long drive, or a monk-like attention span, settling in and tracking the territory of the band’s evolution is rewarding. While the themes — of drone, calm, repeating bass and synth figures — remain constant, the band isn’t a one trick (or one note?) pony. Deep listening uncovers the variety between shorter, bloop-and-hum pieces from Tones/Zones (Disc 1) and the meditative, cycling layers of “2303” from last year’s Bajas Fresh (Disc 7). And there are moments that peek up from the soup: “Bajas Ragas” adds hand percussion and a loping bass line for one of their most engaging concoctions—fit for a slow-motion dance floor in a submerged city of the future. Missing, unfortunately, is their 2016 collaborative album with Bonnie “Prince” Billy, the excellently-titled Epic Jammers And Fortunate Little Ditties. As is this intriguing gem of Rolling Stones covers. Yet, with just shy of seven hours of music, I doubt many will sweat their absence. There’s more than enough to disappear into. And, if this review hasn’t spelled it simply enough, this is quite possibly the trippiest music out there. So, set your intentions and bon voyage.  

Ethan Covey

 Nathan Bowles—Plainly Mistaken (Paradise of Bachelors)

Plainly Mistaken by Nathan Bowles

Nathan Bowles, banjoist, percussionist and citizen of New Weird America, departs from his plain-spoken directness in this fourth album and makes a welcome detour into open-ended psychedelia. Right from the dreamy, drifty “Now If You Remember,” you sense a soft-focus open-ness to otherworldly experience. The cut, written by the seven-year-old Jessica Constable and included on Julie Tippett’s 1976 Sunset Glow, shifts and shimmers in ways that Bowles percussive banjo ditties have rarely done. Yet the album’s transcendental heart comes in “The Road Reversed,” where a pounding, dancing rhythm kicks among long, velvety bowed tones, and banjo notes bend into raga-like half-tones. Folk Americana frolics amid deep-toned Eastern meditation, and where one begins and the other ends is hard to say and, also, beside the point. There are, for sure, some traditional touchpoints—“Elk River Blues” (a tune by Ernie Carpenter that Bowles revisits here), “Fresh and Fairly So” and “Stump Sprout” will all satisfy fans of the twang and the twitch. Yet what lingers, for me, are the ones that stray from past experience, the slow, solo ambiguities of “Umbra,” the shadowy flurries and shifting dissonances of “Girih Tiles.” What Bowles’ well-turned work has lacked till now is mystery, and here it is at last.

Jennifer Kelly

 Mike Farris — Silver & Stone (Compass)

Mike Farris's long, strange career flamed briefly with the alt-rockers Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies in the 1990s. After that, Farris rejected his rock 'n' roll lifestyle and grungy sound in a move toward gospel and soul. The surprise of the transition wasn't the partier-to-Christian story but the discovery of how strong Farris's vocals are. On Silver & Stone, he has less of a gospel focus, but down in some swampy soul music (with bits of brighter pop), he shows off that voice. He's willing to take on Bill Withers (“Hope She'll Be Happier”) and Sam Cooke (“I'll Coming Running Back to You”) — not tasks usually recommended — and he comes out of it just fine.

The album fits a sort of arc for his solo career. It lacks the new-convert punch and joy of Salvation in Lights, but it shifts into more thoughtful reflection. Where he had been celebrating, now he's considering how to live. The explicit religion has mostly disappeared, but Farris's songs still run on hope and a big heart. The sorts of ideas at work on Silver & Stone synthesize on “When Mavis Sings,” a tribute to Mavis Staples and serves as a sort of musical and personal model. Farris, whether in rock or soul, the church or the club, presents a focused vision with enough groove to carry it through.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Tim Feeney — Burrow (Marginal Frequency)

MFCS K | Tim Feeney - Burrow by Marginal Frequency

Burrow can be read as both an explanation and an instruction. Percussionist Tim Feeney begins each of this tape’s four pieces (two per side, and if you purchase a download you’ll get a file of each side, not each piece) in similar fashion, beating out a pattern with minimal variation. As the performance progresses monotony gives way to fascination as Feeney slowly reveals a beat’s potential variations. At a certain point things change. Are you hearing more because he threw something on the drum skin, or because your concentration is unlocking that drum-strike’s secrets, or maybe both? Treat this tape like a meditation guide, one that helps you to dig into the sound and see what treasures you find.

Bill Meyer 

 Forever House — Eaves (Infrequent Seams)

Eaves by Forever House

Forever House makes wildly complicated songs whose improvisatory flights and furies are held together, barely, by Meaghan Burke’s keening, swooping melodies. A lurid aura hangs over these difficult, jarring compositions, witchy incantations invoking freaks, body doubles and spiders. Burke’s voice is velvety dark, draping over odd-shaped rhythms, jutting stabs of violent sound. The drumming is particularly good in an off-putting, against-expectations manner; along with throbs of cello and throes of feedbacked dissonance, it constructs a weird fun house architecture where everything tips and distorts and unsettles.

Forever House’s oddities work because they’re powered by formidable skills – this is a band with a serious NY downtown pedigree. Burke, a cellist and composer, commutes between classical orchestra work and solo material that skitters along the boundary between archaic pop and free-wheeling art song. Both guitarist James Moore and bassist James Illgenfritz have played with John Zorn, as well as other downtown luminaries (in Illgenfritz’s case Anthony Braxton, John Zorn, Elliott Sharp and Pauline Oliveros and others, in Moore’s with the electric guitar quartet Dither). Drummer Pete Wise has left less of an internet trail but seems to have Bang on a Can connections. You get the sense that Forever House is their spooky busman’s holiday, a chance to play against type and raise some unruly ghosts. Boo!

Jennifer Kelly  

 German Army — Kowloon Walled City = (Null Zone)

Kowloon Walled City by German Army

German Army is neither an established military entity nor some reenactment clique, but a low-flying, California-based combo that (according to their Facebook page) “uses art to document disappearing cultures and wildlife while critiquing imperialism in all forms.” Kowloon Walled City certainly qualifies as a disappearing culture, since most of the semi-autonomous, mob-run neighborhood that sat at the edge of Hong Kong’s airport has been cleaned up or knocked down. Since there’s nothing particularly Chinese-sounding about this tape’s perky synth/drum jams and the rare spoken vocals are in distinctly American-accented English, the proclaimed mission may be a failure or just a red herring. But if you need some catchy tunes limned with coded mystery to jam in your old jalopy (if you have tried to get a car stereo with a tape deck in the last ten years, you know what I’m talking about), German Army is at your service.

Bill Meyer

  Gong Gong Gong—Siren (Wharf Cat)

Siren 追逐劇 by Gong Gong Gong 工工工

Two songs from the duo of Joshua Frank and Tom Ng make a case for an intriguing Beijing punk-noise underground. The a-side, “Siren” abstracts the electric blues into a single clattering guitar riff, a zooming, looming roar of bass and a searing call (no response) vocal from Ng, in sing-song-y Chinese. “Something’s Happening” is meatier and more conventionally rock, still built on sharp, stinging guitar clamor, but buzzing with Hendrix-y solo-ry (if Hendrix played the bass). Both tracks employ the minimum number of parts to maximal impact, the construction loose enough for friction, sparks and gnashing aggression.

Jennifer Kelly

 Gerrit Hatcher / Peter Maunu / Julian Kirschner — The Raven and the Dove (JAKI)

The Raven and the Dove by Hatcher/Maunu/Kirshner

Chicago’s built on drained swampland, so when the next wave of free jazz rolls up, it can travel. Certainly this trio, which comprises two younger musicians and one more who seems to be doing exactly what he wants with his retirement, covers a lot of ground. Gerrit Hatcher is an extroverted tenor saxophonist with a raw tone and a willingness to depart from his default setting of muscular tune-grinding into passages of tentative flutter and delicate counterpoint. Good drummers never lack for work, so it’s saying something that you can find Julian Kirschner on a Chicago stage pretty much every week of the year. He comes from a post-free jazz conception of his instrument that favors color, space and movement over pulse or swing. Joining these youngsters is Peter Maunu, whose past life playing fusion and new age music seems quite irrelevant to the unpredictable stream of savage scraping, subliminal humming, and acidic rocking that issues from his guitar, violin and mandolin. This group is brand new, but it won’t be for long; they’ve been touring around the Midwest this fall, so you can expect them to add seasoned rapport to band new promises before long. Catch them if you can, and catch this promising debut if you can’t.

Bill Meyer

 Kidd Jordan / Alvin Fielder / Joel Futterman / Steve Swell — Masters of Improvisation (Valid Records)

Masters of Improvisation by Kidd Jordan, Alvin Fielder, Joel Futterman & Steve Swell

It takes a particular orneriness to be a musician in a musical city and stake your claim to a style that the city has never embraced. You can say a lot of things about New Orleans, but it’s never really been a free jazz town. But that hasn’t stopped tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan, who has made his crust playing and teaching every style that a jobbing musician must play, from playing a particularly uncompromising variety of free jazz. Two of his accompanists here are long-time partners. Drummer Alvin Fielder, who like Jordan is in his 80s, has likewise carried the free jazz torch in southern environs where the muggy air of indifference would douse a fainter spirit. Pianist Joel Futterman is a decade younger and his darting technique and forays inside the piano imply that his roots are sunk in different turf than his mates, but he’s been playing with them long enough to be able to bring empathy as well as energy to the table. New York-based trombonist Steve Swell is the newcomer, and his ability to shift effortlessly between sere exhalations and brash attacks allows him to complicate the combo’s late-Coltrane vibe without betraying it, and then be equally persuasive when they turn around and wring the last blue drops out of Doc Pomus’ “Lonely Avenue.” This concert recording lingers long on the stormy side; go on, stick your face into the wind, you won’t be sorry.

Bill Meyer

 No Love — Choke on It (Sorry State)

Choke On It by No Love

No Love, from Raleigh, NC, play punk rock that conjures the ragged toughness of the mid-1970s NYC downtown scene and the pace of early-1980s Southern Cali hardcore. It’s a potent mix, and when guitarists Seth Beard and Daniel Lupton make a bit of space for vocalist Elizabeth Lynch, the record really kills it. The record’s title track and “Dogs//Wolves” — released back in 2015 as the A-side of a terrific single — are frantic punk burners that scrap and sizzle, teetering on the brink of perilous chaos. The band manages to channel the energy without disciplining it, like the Heartbreakers in those magical months in 1975. “Back Taxes & Anaphylaxis” is even better, mostly because Lynch takes an aggressive lead on the song, showing what she can do. On “Drama Fever,” she manages to keep pace with the guitars’ slashing intensity, but on some of the other tracks, she’s drowned out by all the frenzied riffage. The raw sound of the record gives it a low-grade charm, but the noise sometimes obscures the tunes, which are pretty great. Still, the band’s vigor and verve are undeniable. More, please.  

Jonathan Shaw

 One Tail, One Head — Worlds Open, Worlds Collide (Terratur Possessions) 

Worlds Open, Worlds Collide by One Tail, One Head

Norway’s One Tail, One Head have been playing black metal since 2006, but this year’s Worlds Open, Worlds Collide is the first full-length record the band has ever released. They’ve made a career on their reputation as a live act, pairing their orthodox blackened sound and songs with a stage show only slightly less theatrical than Watain’s (that’s all stage blood, right guys?). It seems that this first LP will be their last, as One Tail, One Head have announced their intent to call it quits after a tour supporting the record. That sense of finality may have prompted the band to round the stylistic bases, pairing truculent, muscular songs reminiscent of the early demos (“Firebirds” is a good example) with more chaotic, swirling work typical of the recent EPs. Songs in the former mode are more successful here, especially the record’s title track, which thunders and crackles with convincing menace. But One Tail, One Head could have given themselves a better sendoff. Few of these tunes feel fully realized, and none is near the equal of the band’s intense performing presence. It’s too bad — but a wise (or wise-ass) kid from Chicago once observed that “breaking up is an idea that has occurred to far too few groups, sometimes the wrong ones.” Via con Satàn, fellas.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Vanessa Peters — Foxhole Prayers (Idol)

Foxhole Prayers by Vanessa Peters

Singer-songwriter Vanessa Peters could have settled for the smart folk-rock she’s been doing for almost two decades, but on Foxhole Prayers she stretches herself, looking at the cultural landscape without relinquishing her personal lyrics. “Carnival Barker” offers her most direct political track, but “Trolls” is more effective, capturing the patience and perseverance needed to defeat the title characters. The song has personal and political resonances, and it's that dual thinking that drives much of the album. “Fight” takes on extra meaning in the context of the album. Peters unveils her own fears and her own need to press on, but with enough space in the lyrics that she could be speaking to herself, a young artist, or someone afraid of venturing into the public eye in any sense; calls to bravery aren't limited to those on stage and Peters situates her song as someone who knows that.  

As her view expands, so does her music, particularly as she incorporates electronic elements into her sound. The dance-pop influences of “Before it Falls Apart” surprise, but Peters' tasteful use of the new sounds allows everything to fit in naturally with what she does. The album, inspired in part by comparing the world of The Greaty Gatsby with today's political climate, has its roots in crisis, hence the title track, and Peters uses her art to search for something better. 

Justin Cober-Lake

 Shells—Shells 2 (Gingko)

Shells 2 by Shells

The evidence suggests that Shelley Salant is not a loner. She’s been booking shows in Southeast Michigan for a decade. She’s the sort of record store clerk who greets you with a recommendation that you’d best consider. She’s played guitar in Tyvek and Swimsuit. She’s the sort of person who makes communities happen by doing what she does.

But she also has pretty strong instincts about what makes a guitar worth hearing — liquid tone, phrases that are concise unless they need to wander, pithy hooks, gritty noise and reverb for days. She’s got some things to say on her own, and that’s where Shells comes in. Shells 2 contains 14 tracks, each a brief and lucid lesson about one or more of the aforementioned virtues. Some of them comprise layers of loops, some follow a single snaking line, and a couple have been overdubbed into an approximation of a band. Similarity spotters may point out the bits that sound like Link Wray or Roy Montgomery or the Feelies, but that would require looking past all the bits that sound like Shelley Salant rocking essentially.

Bill Meyer

 Various Artists — Chebran Volume 2: French Boogie 1979-1982 (Born Bad)

This superlative collection of funk, disco and proto-rap documents the cross-hybridization of bootleg tapes of Grandmaster Flash, Eurovision-style dance music and sounds from the African and Arabic colonies that bubbled up in working class neighborhoods at the dawn of the 1980s all over France. Here on cuts like Ethnie’s “De Chagrin En Chagrin” synths take up the serpentine non-western melodies, while Bootsy-style funksters slap and pop out the boogie. Likewise, the ponderous stomp of bass and percussion anchors Ganawa’s “Yamna” in present day disco, but its wheeling woodwinds and haunting call and response transport you to sand swept deserts in North Africa. Ettika, both the track name and the artist name for a one-hitter from the early 1980s, nudges a disco synth into twisty arabesques and flits from French to Arabic in its emphatic, female-powered raps. Forget the melting pot, these cuts bubble like sour dough starter, when errant spores of yeast find a home in a dull white flour soup and create something marvelous.

Jennifer Kelly

 Otomo Yoshihide / Paal Nilssen-Love — 19th of May 2016 (PNL)

19th of May 2016 by Otomo Yoshihide & Paal Nilssen-Love

Conventional wisdom holds that when Paal Nilssen-Love gets on stage with an electric guitarist, fillings will loosen. That certainly holds true when he pairs up with Terrie Ex, his preferred six-string slinger of recent years, and there are parts of this encounter with Japanese guitarist Otomo Yoshihide that could be cited as supporting evidence. Otomo brings plenty of volume, distortion and ferocity; there are passages where it sounds like he’s demolishing some metallic structure while Nilssen-Love erects an impregnable surrounding whirlwind. But neither man stays in one gear, and some of the most involving moments come when they drop to a scrape and a shimmer.

Bill Meyer

[aliceriddell-aka-zephyr]

Sweet Weekend (Sam Drake x @bechobbi) (part two)

A/N: I didn't know that it will be so long :D

Tags: @bechobbi

___________________________________________

"Be careful," Drake chuckled, swallowing another chunk. - "Well, what do you think should be washed down with burritos?" he laughed.

"Beer, I guess," Giulia shrugged, then took another bite of the burrito.

"I don't know," Sam scratched his head. - čI think it's fine with wine. Wine, burrito and beloved wife. What else do you need to be happy?" - he smiled a little.

"Absolutely agree" Giulia happily breathed out, starting to look at her husband.

"You will make a hole in me" Sam smiled and touched his finger to her nose wife.

"Sorry, was just admiring you" Giulia smiled in the answer and rubbed nose.

"Not surprised." Sam laughed as he finished his burrito. - "I was thinking we should go back to your home country sometime."

"I agree, only if it isn't another expedition, but simply a vacation together" Giulia patted Samuel on the cheek, swiping his thumb across the cheekbone.

"And we should make burritos more often. It's fucking delicious!" Drake smiled contentedly and leaned his cheek upon his hand.

"Nicely. We will cook together more often not only burritos" Giulia drank the wine, collected the dishes from the table and went to the kitchen to wash it.

"Come on, I'll wash it myself. In the end, you're more cooked, so do the dishes on me" Sam is quite stretched, and rose up and followed the wife.

"It's not hard, dishes not so much," Giulia waved his hand and turned on the water.

"Not now," Sam spun Giulia to his hand and pressed closer. - "Do you still want to dance?"

"Of course." she put the washcloth down to the sink and put one hand on Drake's cheek, and the other took his palm, twisting their fingers.

"I saw a gramophone in the living room" Drake dragged his wife by the hand into the room, after nodding to the above thing. He, without thinking, inserted the disc, and the music immediately began to play. - "Would you do the honor, Mrs. Drake?" - he held out his hand to Giulia.

"With pleasure, Mr. Drake," she widely smiled and put her hand into the hand of Sam. Samuel began to rock gently, one hand moving to the waist of his wife and smiling happily.

"Last time we were dancing at our wedding" Giulia closed her eyes with pleasure remembering the day.

"You're reading my thoughts" Drake kissed his wife in the head, hugging tighter. - "And I can't say that many years have passed. Like it was yesterday."

"I'm so happy I met you" Giulia rested her cheek in the breast of her husband, inhaling the scent so dear.

"I'm even happier. Still, there is something useful in going to the bar" Drake laughed, scrolling Giulia at hand.

"Accurately spotted" she firmly hugged Sam, and squeezes me in the hands of t-shirt on his back.

"Honestly, I never thought I would have a family. I had close friends, but wife.." Sam chuckled.

"And I thought I could never find a man who would.. Not only interested in my body," Giulia shook her head and sighed. - "But it just so happened that you and I slept together and then we got interested in each other."

"Very well," Samuel smiled, stroking Giulia's cheek. - "But all same with your the body I, too, interested in" - he grinned at.

"Well, I don't doubt" Giulia turned away from Sam, pressing her back to his chest. - "And I'm no less interested in your body."

"Good to hear," Drake laid his head on his wife's shoulder, kissing her gently on the cheek. Giulia closed her eyes with pleasure, smiling, and patted her husband on the head.

"I love you, baby," Sam whispered sweetly, smiling and holding his wife close.

"And I love you, bear," she put her hands on Samuel's hands and chuckled. - "Can you believe we'll someday be old, with gray hair, raising grandchildren," - Giulia grinned.

"Yeah.. But it is better now not to think about it" Drake laughed and squeezed Giulia.

"We can think about another" Giulia smirked and jumped on Sam's arms, clasping his with her legs.

"Um.. Yes, I fully agree" Samuel smiled slyly and supported Giulia's hips, glaring at her lips with a kiss. She began to nibble on her lower lip Sam, clinging to him and embracing for a neck hands. Samuel lowered his wife onto the carpet, hanging from the top and kissing her ear. He quickly threw off his shirt and got his hands under Giulia's sweater. She pulled her husband's face to her and kissed him passionately again, throwing one leg on his back.

"You're so impatient, baby," Sam grinned, deftly unbuttoning Giulia's bra under her sweater and clutching his chest.

"Ah..." she bit her lip and arched her back a little, placing her palms over Samuel's hands. Drake quickly relieved his wife of her upper garment and began kissing every inch of her body, unbuttoning her jeans.

"Why are you so perfect?" Giulia exhaled noisily, literally melting from her husband's hot kisses.

"Perfect?" Sam grinned and, taking off Giulia's other clothes, pressed her hands to the floor. - "What else I am?"

"The most charming, attractive, beautiful, sexy and just the best" she licked her lips, reaching for Samuel for a kiss.

"That's right" Drake didn't deny Giulia a kiss and quickly throwing off his underwear, jerk entered her body. She leaned back on the floor, arching her back and mooing with pleasure. Giulia deftly clasped her husband's shoulders with her hands and kissed his neck. Sam groaned hoarsely, immediately setting a pleasant pace for both and sighing noisily.

"Then what am I?" Giulia pulled her hair back from her face, smiling, and rose up to kiss her husband's face.

"The most beautiful, sexiest and most beloved wife in the world" Sam bit his lip, leaning on the floor on the sides of Giulia's head. - "Most-most."

"Ah.. Sammy.." Giulia buried her nose in Drake's shoulder, gently biting her skin and leaving a hickey on it. Sam rolled his eyes in pleasure, stroking Giulia's thigh with one hand and kissing her in the ear. She moved towards Sam, gasping for air and clutching her husband's hair. Samuel kissed and bit his wife's neck, pouring his hot breath on her skin. He didn't stop roughly penetrate her body.

"Please, more..." Giulie arched her back, bit her lips, and groaned loudly as Samuel went into her until the end. Drake's breathing gradually faltered, but he continued to keep pace and nibble on his wife's earlobe. Giulia was moaning with every movement of Samuel louder and more often, glaring nails in his skin, and sometimes hard kiss on the lips. Sam's shocks became rougher, and he soon reached discharge. Drake had to lean the elbows on either side of the head of the wife, so as not to crush her with his weight. Giulia squeezed her husband's hair tight during orgasm, tightly hugging him by the neck and then falling to the floor and closing his eyes. Sam buried his nose in Giulia's neck, breathing heavily and covering his eyes. After he took her in his arms and moved her to the sofa, covering with a blanket.

"How considerate of you" Giulia smiled, sitting on Sam's knees and wrapped him in his blanket too.

"Do you doubt it?" Samuel smiled sweet and kissed his wife in the nose.

"Not a bit" Giulia hugged her husband's neck and began to kiss him sweetly. Sam immediately returned the kiss, drawing his wife closer to him. He only pulled away when he was out of breath. - "Love you, baby."

"I love you too, bear."

[daggerzine]

The Vulgar Boatmen interview- Dale Lawrence talks shop.

I had been thinking about sending some questions Dale Lawrence’s way ever since I’d heard the 2015 reissue of the band’s 1989 debut, You and Your Sister (reissued on Time Change Records out of Indianapolis). The band had formed in the late 80’s by two friends (well, sort of....see below) , Lawrence (who was based in Indiana ) and Robert Ray (who was based in Florida).  Back then they did it the old fashioned way, by mailing cassettes back and forth (the only way) and that seemed to work just fine. It had been years since I’d heard that debut and the reissue reminded me of how great (and underappreciated) the band was. You’ll hear elements of The Feelies (those jangly guitars and even in the rhythms, too) but also other classic bands like the Velvet Underground and even the Everly Brothers on certain cuts. Their sophomore effort, 1992’s Please Panic was just as good (maybe better) and I never heard 1995’s Opposite Sex (I hope to change that very soon…both recently reissued, see below) and then the band broke up.  If you’ve never heard the band’s music and have read this far then by all means do check them out, you won’t be sorry as their songs are truly excellent. Pop music with hooks and plenty of smarts. A month or so ago I sent some questions to Dale and he was more than happy to elaborate on my queries. Read on and when you have some time play “Drive Somewhere” at top volume today!

Robert and Dale, the early years. 

Where were you born/where did you grow up?         

I was born in Valparaiso, Indiana, and grew up one county over, on a farm outside a town called Hanna, an hour or so from Chicago.

 Was your family musical or at least supportive of your musical pursuits?    

Neither of my parents were especially musically inclined but I did grow up surrounded (and fascinated) by records. And my parents at least never tried to discourage my musical ambitions.

 What was your first band you ever saw live?    

I  was very lucky -- Neil Young, the 1973 Stray Gators tour (which resulted in Time Fades Away).

 What was your initial entry into the world of independent/punk/other music? (I know you were in The Gizmos…..that might need to be a whole other interview!!).      

My rock ‘n’ roll life began when I was nine years old and suddenly noticed Top 40 radio on the bus ride home from school: WLS, out of Chicago, 1965, a very good year for radio. (Again, lucky.) By 1976/77, I was in college and listening to the usual suspects, Modern Lovers, Television, Ramones. But hearing the Sex Pistols in the fall of ’77 was really the big corner. It hit me like nothing else before or since, made the world seem like a wholly different place. The sound of those records, the sound of Johnny Rotten’s voice, sounded exactly how frustrating it felt to be alive just then. And it made me want to be in a band, an old ambition I’d largely abandoned as a pipedream. Within weeks, I'd answer an ad and join the Ted Neimeic Gizmos on rhythm guitar.

 Ready to rock.

What were the beginnings of the Vulgar Boatmen?

The Boatmen actually began in Gainesville, Florida, a couple years before either Robert or I were involved. At that time it was a very different band, different aesthetic, different set of musicians (oddly enough, a situation pretty similar to the two different versions of Gizmos). Robert was friends with some of the band members and eventually joined, initially as rhythm guitarist. When the main songwriter, Walter Salas-Humara, left to form the Silos in New York, the Boatmen needed new material and started doing some of the songs I’d written in the Gizmos. Robert changed some lyrics, added a bridge or two – these were our first “collaborations.” I was in Indianapolis at that time, leading a band called Right to Left. It was then that Robert and I started collaborating in earnest, sending song ideas back and forth thru the mail.

 Where did the band name come from?                                                                            

The name was already in place when Robert and I got involved. It’s basically a third-graders pun on “The Volga Boatman,” a beginners piano piece. To the extent it doesn’t sound like we’re taking ourselves too seriously, I always liked the name. But we probably would have been smart to try to come up with something more fitting.

 Were you and Robert always based in separate states or was there ever a time that you lived near each other?                                                                                                                        

There were a couple years when we both lived in Bloomington, while he was a grad student and I was an undergrad at Indiana University. We met, weirdly enough, in a class on song lyrics. Robert was the AI and when he mentioned in class that he’d seen Elvis perform in Memphis, pre-RCA, I immediately scheduled office hours with him and we’ve been great friends ever since. Neither of us were in bands at that time, though I'd be in the Gizmos within a few months. We didn’t start writing together until years later.

 What do you remember most about working on the songs that would become You and Your Sister?                                                                                                                           

In terms of writing the songs, I remember consciously trying to use as few chords as possible (a lot fewer than I'd typically employed in Gizmos songs) -- and in particular, concentrating on the I and IV chords, a movement I could hear at the heart of so much music I loved, from the Soul Stirrers to "Road Runner." Also, I remember that having a fulltime songwriting partner was a distinct luxury: two sets of ears to hear rhythmic settings, better odds of finding the right lyrics.

 Recording-wise, the album was done at Robert’s house, on an 8-track machine, so I remember hanging out there in Gainesville for weeks at a time. The relaxed schedule that arrangement afforded us might in hindsight be the most important element in the recording process. We could afford not to rush anything. If a vocal or a tempo or a guitar sound wasn’t quite there, we knew we had plenty of time to get it right. I especially remember obsessing over snare-drum sounds. One we were especially happy with was on “Mary Jane” – except that when we tried recording a lead vocal, we discovered that most of what we liked about the snare sound was actually on the scratch vocal track. So that scratch vocal ended up being the actual vocal.

 The classic album!

Did you tour much for the record? Ever make it overseas?                             

We did tour quite a bit for that album, several swings through the south and the east coast, once to the west coast. We did not make it overseas until the second and third albums, when we played Germany, Austria, and England.

 At the time of You and Your Sister were you working regular jobs?               

I was working for a local record store, traveling on weekends to collectors conventions, hawking bootleg videos – already a bit like touring. Robert had a full-fledged career, teaching at the University of Florida.

 Was it basically the same lineup for 1992’s Please Panic?                          

Well, yes and no. Both albums were recorded by a combination of musicians from both the Gainesville and Indianapolis lineups. (So, for example, there are four different drummers on Sister.) The Indiana musicians used on the second album are mostly different than the ones who had contributed on the first, the Florida musicians were pretty much the same. One difference on the second album is that we had access to studio pro J.D. Foster, who is the main bass player on Please Panic.

 The other classic album!

How did the band end…..or did it not?                                                                                    The end for us came, as for many indie bands, when we signed with a major, Warners/EastWest, out of London. We finally had a bit of a budget to make a record and, at first, major promotional assistance. But a shakeup at Elektra resulted in Opposite Sex never seeing a US release, which was pretty much the end of the road. Our pending booking deal with Monterey Peninsula fell through and we were dropped almost immediately by the UK label as well. The band has never officially broken up, but it has become very much a part-time thing. The Indianapolis outfit plays out a handful of times every year.

 I noticed that you still play live these days. Is it under your own name or the Vulgar Boatmen?

The Vulgar Boatmen.

 What are your top 10 desert island discs?                                                         Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Louis Armstrong.

Never Mind the Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols.

The Complete Buddy Holly.

A Hard Day’s Night (or any of their first five albums), the Beatles.

Stranded (or Siren or Country Life), Roxy Music.

Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers and Hart Songbook.

The Sun Sessions, Elvis Presley.

Call Me, Al Green.

Astral Weeks, Van Morrison.

Bo Diddley (or The Duke at Fargo or The Definitive Otis Redding or...).

 Some of your current favorite bands/musicians?                                                                

I listen to way more older music than current stuff, always finding records I hadn't known about before. Right now, I’m listening a lot to Jimmy Reed. Thelonious Monk has been a constant on my stereo in recent years. Two current bands I love are Terakaft and Sufjan Stevens.

 A recent pic of the band. 

Final words? Closing comments? Anything you want to add that I didn’t ask?

I guess I can plug some rereleases that are about to happen. The first three Boatmen albums are being reissued on vinyl, by Play Loud! Records, out of Berlin. As with the Sister CD, Please Panic has been completely remastered. It will be the first time that Opposite Sex has ever been out on vinyl.

 Thanks so much for doing this!

 Relevant links below!

www.facebook.com/airportdecisionsinc/

 www.timechangerecords.com

 www.playloud.org

 Their 1995 album. 

  Such a classic!

[majormillennium]

Pearl Likes Rock: Stairway to Heaven

What happens when you take a gem unfamiliar with most of Earth culture and her girlfriend decides to give her a little lesson in rock ‘n roll.

The wind swept Pearl’s hair as she clung on the back of the pink-haired human. The two of them had been riding along the open road, both of them excited to head back to Sheena’s place.

Pearl couldn’t help but let an occasional giggle escape her, feeling both the human girl in front of her, and the acceleration around them. However, Pearl couldn’t help but notice a speed limit sign saying “65 Miles” and Sheena was going almost 15 over!

“Um, dear, don’t you think we’re going a little too fast?” The pale gem asked, not wanting the other to risk hurting herself.

“Heh. Life in the fast lane.” She stated simply, “slowly make you lose your mind~♫” She sung softly, a smile on her face. 

Pearl tilted her head to the side, perplexed by her. 

“Don’t worry, babe, we’re almost there.” She assured her, briefly glancing back at her before they made a turn off the interstate. Once they did, it took about five minutes for Sheena to turn toward a motel, parking her bike out front and popping off her helmet before heading inside. She pulled the key out of her pocket, unlocking the door. 

Pearl hopped off the motorcycle,  removing her own helmet before following Sheena, eager to see what kind of place she lived in. 

However, much to her disdain, it was a lot less tidy than she would hope for. There were clothes strewn around, dishes left out, it wasn’t exactly easy for Pearl to look at. 

“Sorry the place is a mess, don’t usually have the time to clean it.” Sheena apologized, tossing her helmet on the table. 

“O-Oh, no need to apologize. I’d be happy to clean it.” Pearl started to pick up the clothes.

“Woah, woah! Hey!” Sheena held a hand up, walking to Pearl, who stopped what she was doing. “You’re not doing that. You’re my guest. And if there’s anything my mama taught me, is how to be hospitable.” She took the clothes Pearl had in her hands and tossed them into a hamper. 

Pearl felt a blush creep on her face, glancing at the human as she was picking up other articles of clothing. “I’m sorry, Sheena.”

“No problem. You can grab yourself something to eat- Oh, right.” She remembered the whole “Gem” thing. “Weeeell...you can put on some music if you like. My CDs are over under my bed, my radio’s on the night stand.” She pointed in the general direction of her room, dropping her dirty dishes in the sink, running some water on them.

Pearl approached her room, slowly opening the door before peeking in to find an assortment of posters on her wall, they appeared to be bands, as far as Pearl was concerned. Some of them looked familiar, she remembered seeing some of these amongst Greg’s ‘vine-L’ as she remembered him calling it. 

She could see the radio, moving towards it. She pressed the eject button to check if there was any CD already in there.When she saw one pop out, she made sure to grab it without risk of getting it dirty. She took a quick look at it, reading the title to herself. “Hysteria” She said to herself, unsure of why anyone would name any music about a psychological disorder. She managed to find the matching CD case, popping it in before reaching under the bed for the rest of them.

“Everything okay?” Sheena asked from the other room. “Yes, just fine!” Pearl responded, pulling out an entire drawer of CDs! Pearl was absolutely taken aback by it. “Wow.” She said under her breath, hand hovering above all the different albums. So many to choose, and she had no idea what any of these bands were.

“Ya find anything ya like?” Sheena asked, stepping into the room, looking over her collection. 

“O-Oh, um...er...yes, I do!” She then randomly pulled out a CD on the left side of the drawer. Sheena took a peek at it.

“Hm. Led Zep 4. Good choice.” She smiled, opening the CD case before popping the disc in the radio.

Pearl got up, relieved that her random choice pleased her girlfriend.

“Let’s get to the real shit, though.” Sheena said, bending over to jump forward some songs. 

Eventually, it began with a slow guitar melody, making Sheena smile softly as she sat down on her bed, watching Pearl. She patted her lap softly, the guitar still playing.

Pearl got the hint, sitting on the bed next to her, but then was pulled in close in front of Sheena on her lap. She could see her getting lost in the music, her eyes were closed and her head swayed slightly to the music.

“There’s a lady who’s sure, All that glitters is gold, And she’s buying the Stairway to Heaven~”

Pearl’s eyes widened as she heard the song, watching Sheena mouth the words as she did. She laid there quietly, resting her chin against the other’s chest.

“When she get’s there she knows, If the stores are all closed, With a word she can get what she came for~”

She can feel Sheena humming along with the singer, her ear resting against her chest as she also gave the song a listen. She had never any experience with this kind of music. At least, not one in which she felt like she wanted to listen.

“And she’s buying the Stairway to Heaven~”

For most of the duration of the song, Pearl just listened to it, Sheena holding her close as she patted Pearl’s shoulders to the rhythm. It was almost soothing. It felt like the song would go on for a while, so she decided to get comfortable.

However, after the last lyric, there was a sudden increase in both timbre and volume! It made Pearl jolt a bit, but Sheena seemed completely unfazed! She’s definitely heard this song more than a few times.

“Nyooooow, na-na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na-nooow! Now, now-now, now, now-now, now, now, na-now-now-now-now-now!” 

Sheena looked absolutely elated as she scatted along to the guitar. Pearl couldn’t help but smile too, watching Sheena rock out. She continued to scat to the guitar until it ended.

“And as we wind on down the road, Our shadows taller than our soul, In walks a lady we all know-oh, Who shines white light and wants to show,”

Pearl watched as Sheena banged her head to the music, mouthing every last word to a T. It was astonishing to see this supposed punk human act so care-free and almost silly. “How everything still turns to gold And if you listen very hard The tune will come to you at last When all are one and one is all To be a rock and not to roll” 

Pearl listened to the rest of the guitar riff, her chin resting against Sheena’s chest as she did. She heard it die down, expecting the song to end.

“And she’s buying the Stairway...to Heaven...”

Pearl’s jaw was slightly agape, hearing her girlfriend sing to the last verse as it faded away. 

Sheena reached over to pause her radio, shaking her head about before letting out a breath she didn’t know she had. “Hell yeah! Ol’ Robbie still kicks ass!” She cheered, looking down at Pear. “Hm? Ya okay, babe?”

“Wh...What was that?” Pearl asked, completely awestruck.

“What was wha-” She froze up, her face now turning a dark shade of red. “Ah shit! You did see all that, didn’t ya??” She covered her face, absolutely embarrassed.

“No no no! I thought that was amazing!” She rest her hands on top of hers. “I loved how passionate you were when you were listening!” She gave an earnest smile that made the pink-haired human nearly choke up.

“...Really?” 

The gem nodded vigorously. “Really.”

Sheena cleared her throat a bit, sitting up, Pearl still in her lap.

“So...if I may ask, what WAS that song??” the lithe gem suddenly sat up, her eyes wide and a grin on her face. “I-I mean, it started out slow and soothing, and then it went so fast and loud, and it doesn’t sound like it would work, but it was absolutely amazing!” She had stars in her eyes now as she looked at Sheena, who couldn’t help but giggle.

“Heheh! You never heard Stairway to Heaven before?”

Pearl shook her head. “Nope!” 

Sheena took Pearl’s hand her other one on Pearl’s back, trying to calm her down.

“It’s Led Zepp, babe. It’s like one of their most classic songs.”

“Led...Zepp?” Pearl looked at her, head tilted slightly.

“...Well, I know what we’re gonna be doing tonight.”