#baroque verse

[whatinthefuckingninjaturtles]

round 1 poll 3

[sundere1181]

uhhh anyway. i wrote a little thing for the iteration competition. If i win the first round ill make a part two about what my splinter is up do and maybe a crossover with a different set of turts who knows

A quiet day in the Hamato household. Leo, Mikey, and Raph sat in the living room, doing various different activities. It was calm and peaceful, until… 

The door to Donnie’s lab opened with a bang, revealing said turtle with an odd mixture of shock, fear, and excitement on his face.

‘Vision!’ he hurriedly signed.

Leo sat up straight, signing back. ‘you had a vision? Of what?’

Donnie paused (probably for dramatic effect) Then replied, ‘interdimensional baking contest.’

It was Leo’s turn to pause. 

‘What???’ Mikey signed from her position on the floor. Raph just stared.

Donnie repeated the signs, with more vigor. ‘I swear! I saw it! We all fall through a portal and there's other us and we bake to win!’

‘Okay,’ Raph finally joined the conversation. ‘If that's true, when?’

‘Soon.’ Donnie signed, right before the floor dropped out from under them with a bright multicolored light.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The turtles all landed in a heap in the middle of a large auditorium, filled with mini kitchenettes, all of them colored either red, orange, blue or purple. The one they were in front of was purple, and had six aprons all labeled ‘baroque’ on them.

Donnie looked around then poked Leo in the arm. ‘Told you.’ 

Leo rolled his eyes and stood up pushing Mikey over in the process. “Baroque? Like the 17th century art style?” he said, signing as he spoke.

“Of course you’d know that.” Mikey muttered.

“Hey!! You guys!!” 

All of them looked over at the new voice, except for Donnie, who had to be alerted by Raph that someone was here.

It was a shortish turtle with blue spots in twisting patterns all over his limbs and head, and he donned a blue domino mask. He was wearing an apron that said ‘mighty fighty turtle teens’

‘Horrible name’ Donnie signed distastefully. His siblings nodded.

The other turtle jogged over to them “I’m Leo!” 

Leo, Donnie, Mikey, and Raph all looked at each other before shoving their Leo to go talk to the other Leo.

“Konnichiwa.” Leo said flatly. “I’m also Leo. These are my siblings. If our Donnie is right and this is some multiverse situation, then you probably already know their names.”

“Yeah!!” Other Leo smiled. “I just came over to say good luck, and maybe offer some sort of alliance in the upcoming contest?”

Leo quickly turned to Donnie and translated in a flurry of quick signs, before asking his opinion. 

‘Yes’ Donnie signed. ‘Ask him what we’re baking.’

Leo turned back to the other Leo. “Sure. Also, my Donnie wants to know what we’re baking.”

“Oh, the first one is a chocolate sculpture. I can show you guys the example? The contest doesn’t start for a little while.” 

Leo shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Good god.”

Good god was right.

The turtles were standing in front of a large sculpture of a dragon curled around a tower; all made of chocolate.

‘I have been learning sculpture. We will be fine.’ Donnie signed seemingly confidently, but his hands trembled ever so much as he looked at the massive structure.

‘You have been learning metal sculpture. This is chocolate.’ Leo signed back, putting extra emphasis on the signs ‘metal’ and ‘chocolate.

‘We are going to lose.’ Mikey signed confidently.

‘We are not going to lose!’ Raph signed back. ‘We got this. Go big or go home.’

‘I want to go home.’

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?”

Other leo had been joined by some of his brothers. The one asking the question was  the other Mikey, who had orange half-circle stripes all over his body and an orange domino mask over his eyes.

“How bad we’re going to lose.” 

“We’re NOT going to lose!” Raph insisted.”

“Yeah!” Other Leo agreed. “I’m sure you’ll  do great!”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “I’m going to look around.” He said, then walked off.

‘I should follow him.’ Donnie signed, before doing just that.

“Why do you look like a candy cane?” Other Mikey asked Raph, out of nowhere. 

Raph scowled. “I’m leaving too.” Before stalking off.

“And then there were three.” Leo sighed.

“Why didn't he answer my question?” other Mikey asked sadly.

“He’s albino and a little sensitive about it. Just try not to bring it up again, okay?”

“Okay!” Other Mikey grinned. 

Leo smiled and patted him on the head.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mikey, how is that chocolate coming?” Leo called from where he was helping Donnie shape the base of the dragon. Raph was out on a supply run.

Mikey looked at the chocolate pot ze was tempering slowly over low heat. “Slowly. Can’t I turn it up a bit so we can go faster?” 

“No!” Leo snapped. “We can’t burn it.”

Mikey rolled her eyes, and waited until Leo turned his back before ne smiled mischievously and turned the heat up all the way.

It was still going by much too slowly, so quietly, glancing back at Leo and Donnie, Mikey lit his hand on fire and stuffed it under the grate. Grinning, she continued stirring it.

FFOOM!!!!!!!!

Mikey yelped as the flames shot up, engulfing the entire stove and also most of his arm. (Sometimes being fireproof comes in handy)

“MIKEY!” Leo screeched from behind her.

One moment, she was engulfed in flames; the next, ne was covered in white foam and looking right into the eyes of a very angry Donatello.

Donnie set the fire extinguisher down aggressively and started signing, hands moving jerkily and quick. ‘I can’t EVEN with you right now, M-I-C-H-E-L-A-N-G-E-L-O. Somebody could have been hurt.’ (the fact he took extra time to fingerspell mikey’s full name really showed how angry he was with her) 

Donnie sighed. ‘Go…’ he paused, like he was searching for what to say. ‘Go sit somewhere.’

Mikey rolled zeir eyes, crossed her arms, and stalked off. He just wanted to make it go by faster. Yeesh.

[seraphim-eternal]

the baroque male

you have died to the law so to belong to another (Romans 7:4)

[auutumn]

autumn court inspired by germanic folklore & fairytales, my beloved

[deciessomnia]

@party-of-rpg-muses :: Frederic did say that he was a pianist before arriving in this "dream world" as he called it. But at this gathering, he truly got a chance to show his aptitude. His fingers moved and flowed upon the keys, as if he was dancing with the music itself. The entire time, Frederic had a look on his face that seemed to be a mix of enjoyment and calm focus, all while his eyes remained closed, as if he himself were one with the music.

Following a very successful performance, the young man stood from his bench and removed his hat as he gave a bow to the applauding audience before removing himself from the hall. A soft, warm smile appeared on his face as he met with Crescendo and Serenade.

There was a strange if not awkward calm between the once engaged couple Baroque and Forte. The formerly engaged would subtly steal subtle glances from the other from across the room. Once they sensed the tiniest of hints of the other turning their head, attention would immediately divert elsewhere. This happened every now and then during the banquet that followed the peace treaty and alliance signing.

Those who did notice, though few how it was, would give a disheartened or amused sigh. It was hard to tell between Crescendo and Serenade who missed the other more. While there was a mixed eye roll amongst the crowd that resulted in said person getting pinched hard by their partner. To those who were close to Crescendo, bet it was he who missed Serenade more than the once princess did herself for him.

There was a special performance for the banquet that was scheduled. Though both Crescendo and Serenade had planned it together, it was someone else who had invited a musician. Despite questioning Jazz repeatedly on who it was, Jazz remained tight lipped. It only served to annoy Crescendo and annoyed him more so with that knowing smirk on his friend’s lips.

❛ I’ve never heard this piece before… ❜ Crescendo thought upon hearing a piano play. Head turned towards where a group of musicians once were to see a familiar man behind ivory keys playing. Eyes widened at the sight as a smile began to form on his lips. ❛ How long has it been since I last saw him? ❜ Crescendo wanted to laugh, but held it in. ‘No wonder Jazz had that knowing look in his eyes. ❜ he made plans to punch his friend in the shoulder later.

Feeling the piece soon come to an end Crescendo started heading in Fredrick’s direction. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes he saw Serenade do the same. So they had the same thing in mind with how long it been since they’ve seen the man.

❝ Fredric, how long has it been~? ❞ Crescendo greeted the man with a genuine smile on his lips, happy to see him.

❝ Hello Fredric. It was quite a surprise to see you were the one someone spoke about inviting. ❞ Serenade said with a chuckle. Jazz could be quite the sly one when he wanted to be. Perhaps surprising was more fitting in this case. Serenade was quite amused with how much it annoyed Crescendo that Jazz would not tell him. ❝ How has time been treating you? ❞

[poettrista]

The Last Whisper

This is just a sneak-peek of one of the poems that will be found in my second collection, which I am currently working on:

[batgovernor]

Using form: Couplets: Maryann Corbett, 'Fugue in October'

Using form: Couplets: Maryann Corbett, ‘Fugue in October’

Baroque chamber ensemble and homeless encampment, Saint Paul Perfect: the singers, strings, and keyboards. Perfect Bruised sky above the tents of the squatters’ district the little jewel-box church, its bright acoustic calm in the year’s last mildness, the only music softened a little in the candles’ lighting, the mumbling underpass. The wind. No fighting for this is God’s mind, woven of…

[rhpsdys]

i finally developed my full baccano! verse for raine, so i'm detailing that below.

most of this was originally conceived by @closedcoffins over on this post, && i've just expanded on it now that i'm, you know, reading baccano!

in the 1700s, raine was living in italy, an accomplished musician of the baroque era, playing in opera houses around the country. they still identified as female at this time, && it was uncommon (nigh unheard of!) for women to play music publicly. however, this isn't the only thing that set them apart.

raine was an alchemist. raine's studies were focused on the use of alchemy as a simple aide, a way of amassing additional power that might be of use in an uprising against the house dormentaire — which is how they met maiza avaro. they were not practicing alchemy publicly, despite lotto valentino being full of alchemists, out of fear of it interfering with the music career they'd worked so hard to build.

but when the group of alchemists pursuing immortality fled for north america on the advena avis in 1711, raine went with them. they drank the liquor with the others, && obtained perfect immortality without it ever being their true desire or goal.

upon arrival, raine cut ties with the surviving alchemists, desperately wanting to simply make a fresh start && live under the radar. they traveled for a while, only staying in touch on occasion with maiza, if only to confirm on occasion that the other was still okay.

eventually, in the mid-late 1800s, raine settled back in brooklyn, new york. during this time, they had mostly abandoned alchemy as a practice, focusing primarily on a music career. while women were starting to become more prominent in classical music, particularly in opera, it was still difficult to make a living, especially as an immigrant ; despite having been there for over a century, raine did not have all their proper documentation at this point. after all, they should've been dead a long time ago, && the raine whispers of the early eighteenth century seemingly no longer existed. in order to make life a little bit easier, they would disguise themself as a man at auditions (something they'd often done over the last century simply for survival's sake). they wore this manufactured identity through the birth of their new career. they played with the recently-founded new york philharmonic, && was later hired as first chair violinist && concertmaster at the original metropolitan opera house.

somewhere along the way, raine began to realize that this identity was not just a disguise — it was who they were. there was no real terminology for this identity at the time, but it didn't matter, as they never told anyone except for maiza.

it was a simple request, enclosed in a letter postmarked november the second, 1883: to m. avaro: my dear friend — it's been a long time. i've just moved to manhattan, to be closer to my work. please meet me for dinner. there is a matter i'd like to discuss with you. yours, r. whispers

raine told maiza everything about what they'd been feeling, their disguise, && the idea that had struck them while playing faust at the opera house — there had to be some alchemical process that could permanently alter their features, to give them a more masculine appearance. for the first time in close to two centuries, raine was prepared to become an alchemist once again. at maiza's suggestion, they re-established contact with begg garrott, another alchemist, whose work as an apothecary made him especially qualified to help with this. what the pair ultimately developed together, after decades of work, was something like a precursor to clinically-distributed hormone supplements — in other words, alchemically-created testosterone.

it began, not unlike the immortality liquor, as an elixir to be consumed. the biggest test was not whether it would work as conceived, but whether it would work on an immortal body.

the answer? it did.

&& so over the course of the next couple of years, from approximately 1908-1910, raine "transitioned". it was an incredible feeling.

after that, they got back to work again, more confident than ever. raine left the philharmonic ( which they had gone back to when the opera house closed down for a season due to a fire ) && began playing in broadway pit orchestras. in 1926, they were hired as a teacher at the juilliard school of music.

around this time, or shortly thereafter, raine found themself surrounded by a small community of people like them, how they'd found each other is somewhat of a mystery, but the fact remains — these individuals, like raine themself, were experiencing discrepancies between their assigned gender && their identities, && raine had the seemingly magic cure for the dysphoria it caused.

so raine went back to work, distilling the elixir for a more widespread distribution, as well as concocting an alternate version, which would act as an artificial estrogen supplement. in the midst of prohibition && the 1932 drug and the dominos plot, raine is engaged in their own drug trade, though for (in their mind) much nobler cause.

a few things of note about this verse: raine would have been using she/her pronouns up until the mid 1800s, && he/him after that, up to the present. however, for my own comfort && out of respect for their character, i will only be using they/them pronouns to refer to raine, && ask that you do the same. however, if your muse themself is referring to raine, they are welcome to use whichever pronoun set would've been appropriate for the time period. additionally, i may be aging raine down slightly, to the physical age of 38 — given the time period in which this verse begins, it feels impractical for them to have been as old as 46 when this story begins. now, of course, they're well over 200 years old. ( this is subject to change. i may feel differently about it later on. ) finally, i want to work eda into this somehow, but i'm not sure what makes the most sense, so that's a problem for a later day.

[madlori]

Hey how about some ART TALK

Art history is a bit of a hobby of mine. Last weekend I went to the Frick in Pittsburgh because they had a special exhibition we wanted to see, and in the gift shop I picked up a book that told the story of a series of acknowledged masterpieces. The first one in the book is Birth of Venus, the second is Mona Lisa, and the scream I scrumpt when I turned the page to see the third:

Let me tell you about Artemisia Fucking Gentileschi.

She was a 17th century painter and one of the first women to be admitted to a Florentian art society and is widely regarded as one of the finest of the Italian baroque painters. She was raised by her father, who was also a painter who studied Caravaggio, and early in her career she had to put up with people saying that her paintings surely must have been painted by her father (despite her father himself saying she was a peerless artist and super accomplished).

As a young woman she was raped by a colleague of her father's. Her father sued the rapist because he hadn't married her (THIS was the crime, not the rape itself, of course) and Artemisia was tortured with thumbscrews to verify her testimony. Some of the...ahem...feelings about this entire episode definitely come through in her work.

Contrary to how these stories usually go, Artemisia had a long and productive career, was well paid for her work, enjoyed the patronage of the Medici family, and traveled widely. History, however, has only recently come to appreciate her and name her among the great painters of the period.

Let's talk about THIS FUCKING PAINTING, though. Judith Beheading Holofernes. Probably her most famous work.

The story is one of Judith, a Jewish woman, who got the general of the army about to invade her city to come have dinner with her, got him drunk, and chopped his head off. Then she paraded his head out to the army, like a boss. It's been painted a number of times but this one...this one really brings the rage. Look at Judith, the strength in her arms, how she's got a look of steely concentration. If you look closely, you can see she has her knee up on the bed behind him to get more leverage. Her maidservant is helping hold him down. Neither of them look horrified or hesitant, they're ready to cut this motherfucker. (also that's definitely Artemisia as Judith. She put herself in a lot of her paintings)

It's an apt interpretation of the verse from the Book of Judith, which is admiringly succinct:

Her sandal ravished his eye, Her beauty made captive his soul, The sword passed through his neck. — Book of Judith, 16:9[7]

It's got a real "the tiger is out" energy, right?

Now let's look at the same scene, painted by Caravaggio, who was no slouch at painting, but...come on.

Judith looks like a scared teenager. She's holding him at arm's length as if that's gonna work. Her maid is a crone, lurking at her shoulder like Wormtongue. This does not, imho, compare to the power of Gentileschi's version.

Artemisia painted another image of Judith holding the severed head. And a lot of other paintings. I'm just thrilled to see this one in this book, as it's one of my favorites. We have one of her paintings here in Columbus and I always visit it when I go (when it's up, that is).

[basu-shokikita]

My Analysis on The Duel

Over the course of my stay in the MTL fandom I've seen several takes on what The Duel means so I wanted to throw my interpretation!

For the record, I used the isolated guitar tracks of Toki and Skwisgaar that user crystalsmeth made for this. Here is Toki's version and here is Skwisgaar's version of The Duel, so feel free to listen to them while you read this. Or you can also listen to the regular version Spotify with your headphones or something.

As we know, Toki walks into the auditions late and begs Dethklok, Skwisgaar specifically, for a chance to prove himself. Skwisgaar accepts and immediately starts playing, leading to the legendary battle.

From the beginning of the song until 0:12, Skwisgaar is the one playing. He's doing the call and he's reckless, unafraid to destroy Toki the way he destroyed every other auditioner.

As such, an afraid but determined Toki answers from 0:13 to 0:20. The rest of Dethklok are shocked, since no one else before him was able to hold against Skwisgaar for even a verse.

While they're metaphorically transported into the sky and turned into mythical beasts, the call and answer dynamic continues. Though their verses are much shorter than the beginning.

Side detail: Toki's verses here are a bit clumsy and improvised, reflecting of his nervousness.

However, around 0:25, a change occurs. When Skwisgaar plays his part, he doesn't stop to listen to Toki's response. On the contrary, he continues playing, and thus creating an harmony with him.

Visually, this is the moment where the tension starts building up, both of them wanting to overcome the other though Toki is visibly behind Skwisgaar.

Toki catches up at 0:38 and they face each other. The call and answer dynamic resumes briefly and intensely as they shoot beams at one another.

While spinning so fast that you can barely tell them apart, the harmony once again returns (0:51). The whirlwind of pink representing Skwisgaar and teal representing Toki only grows bigger, and they're entangled with each other.

There's a sudden cut at 0:55, and in comes the baroque segment. They're still harmonizing but the musical style has changed and so have their clothes and attitudes. They have unimpressed, smug faces, akin to the aristocracy of the time.

But then, around 1:10, their expressions change, indicating the end of this relatively low-pressure part of the exchange. Their fighting is about to resume.

It's 1:15 and they're playing together. But here's the key. It's not call and answer, it's not a harmony they're both fighting off either. It's lead and rhythm guitar. But it's not Skwisgaar playing the lead.

It's Toki.

That's right, go ahead and listen to the isolated tracks I linked at the beginning of the post. For a brief moment, Toki is playing the lead guitar while Skwisgaar takes care of the rhythm guitar. And guess, what? They're happy about it!

As they soar into the skies, they're smiling at each other. Yes, it's faint but you can see it. Both Skwisgaar and Toki joyfully staring at each other, while playing together. Skwisgaar, who minutes ago was defeating auditioners left and right. Skwisgaar, who said they didn't need another guitarist in the band. Skwisgaar who didn't think anybody could match him, less alone conquer him.

That Skwisgaar, relegated to playing the rhythm guitar to this boy he just met and actually enjoying it. I tend to believe this is the moment where he decided he wanted Toki in the band, and by this point on he was just playing for the fun of it, rather than to defeat Toki.

From 1:23 onwards, they're harmonizing though there's something different about it this time, and this is better appreciated with earphones, by the way!

So far, we've had Skwisgaar's guitar come from the right channel, and Toki's guitar come from the left channel. But here, their guitars come together, right in the middle. You can try it with your earphones, if you take off the right or left one during this part, you can still listen to the harmony perfectly, whereas before where you would effectively mute Toki or Skwisgaar's guitar depending on which one you took off.

While Skwisgaar and Toki play in the beautiful skies, surveilled by their animal spirits, their music has fused into one. They have become a single entity.

The call and answer dynamic returns at 1:40 and so do the guitars to their respective channels. The conclusion to this fight is near and the visuals mirror it too, as they turn night-like.

While Toki technically loses the battle, he doesn't lose the challenge, as he's accepted into Dethklok because of his playing and that was the whole point of the auditions.

So, here you have it, my lengthy analysis on The Duel. I haven't really seen people talk about the fact that Skwisgaar, even for a few seconds, allowed Toki to play lead. And it's a fact that drives me insane! I mean, we're talking about Skwisgaar, the guy that truly believes himself to be better than anyone...It really goes to that he respects Toki's playing more than he'll ever admit. Musical soulmates, man...

[kalechipswithasideofkale]

my adrenaline has gone down finally so i feel i can give my thoughts on this season

no more faks! no more! please!

i think the series is taking inspiration from different art movements and genres. season one - surrealism?, season two - modernism?, season three - baroque? im not well versed on this stuff but i definitely noticed they use different forms of art to make the seasons feel different from one another

piggybacking off the earlier bulletin; i think thats also why this season feels like all flash and no substance. whatever movement or era they decided to do with season three is very ou la la oui oui i zam an artist bonjour /nm its very different from the movements they went with in the past seasons. this one feels serious and fancy smancy

i still think they’re going to go through with sydcarmy and this season just solidifies it. syd and carmy are severly mentally ill with issues they need to work out. they dont handle stress and expectations well if at all.

i think some of the things being said by the characters are being taken at face value specifically carmy calling claire peace. i dont think the writers are writing claire to be a source of peace for carmy; hes just so in denial and confused about his emotions he knows he supposed to feel peace from claire but cant figure out why he doesnt

i missed marcus sweeps and tina in this season so much. and syd! i was excited for sweeps to go to wine school only for it to be a one off thing. the tina episode was good but thats the only thing i can think of from the top of my head that she stood out in. marcus’ mom died? but it feels like she didnt die at all? like the weight of his moms death isnt being felt in his character and that made me really sad. i wanted a little more with syd and marcus with their moms :/

im not angry at carmy somehow? i just feel this deep sadness because he is so unlike himself. my initial frustrations with the season made it hard for me to look at his character. now that ive calmed down, he just makes me sad. like thinking about him makes me feel like a wet sausage dude he needs serious help and im scared he’s gonna do something very bad in this next season/part

i was really hoping there would be more parallels between new york carmy and current syd. they might explore it in season 4 and i really hope they do!

where tf was everyone else in the emergency room and why was it the two faks. there is no dissection in the world that will make me okay with those losers being there im sawry

syd being the first person sugar called and claire being the last mhm yup 🙂‍↕️

a good chunk of claire and carmys scenes being muted or cool colors once again!

RICHIE AND HIS DAUGHTER AA!! i wish they had an entire episode dedicated to them theyre so cute!

theres something to be said about loneliness and isolation this season? again i would need to rewatch the season. something something carmy pushing syd away something something nat fearing giving birth because of her mom something something syd having a breakdown and isolating herself from the rest of the fam something something

pete ❤️

chris you have reached ur limit on white male characters enough is enough theres NO MORE ROOM

ngl i actually liked seeing john cena on my screen yall pls

why are we so close to everyones face i zont like zat at all

i thought they were going to bring louis back and got so excited!!! BRING BACK LOUIS

they wrap up the claire storyline by season 4 or part three?? whatever theyre doing idk

LUCA!!!!!!

as much one sided beef i have with jlc she delivered i crode very hard

backseating the characters of color is very lame and bogus! i hated it! what happened to tinas friends she met at school? does ebra not have family? syd and her dad? marcus and his roommate? so many characters they could introduce from sydney marcus tina ebra fuck even angel and manny but they insist on introducing characters that have ties to the berzattos. i hate it! i really do!

syds apartment? where did you go fren….

i wish they were more artsy fartsy with carmys internal struggles give me cringe film student vibes please ill take anything

FUCK CICERO he didnt do anything but PISS ME OFF >:(

why didnt they have syd work out the economics (or whatever tf that computer dude did do). didnt she do something like that in season one? i guess since cicero called him it makes sense

richie and nat are so adorable i love them!!!!

overall pretty mediocre season. it was okay for a show like the bear. i don’t agree with having an entire season dedicated to build up! or atleast in the way they’ve done it in season 3. season 1 was a prologue for the entire show yet it still felt like a complete season. alot of the things that went down in season three either could’ve been compressed into a shorter span of time or they could’ve gotten more episodes (as if its that easy lol but the pacing wouldn’t have suffered as much if the season was longer). um decent season? i dont hate it! i dont love it either. like i said it feels soulless and maybe thats the intention? idk man 😔

i will most definitely be seated for season four TRUST

[sundere1181]

I wish I could respond to this with a drawing but alas, I cannot. So you must imagine. Anyway, my Donnie says thank you, Leo and Mikey are in the background causing trouble and Raph says “what the fuck are we supposed to with this?” Out of sight of Donnie so he doesn’t get in trouble

[laiqualaurelote]

Press Release: Spooky Action at a Distance Album Reveal

The London Music Register - Local Interest

Spooky Action At A Distance unveils cover art for their much awaited debut album

The Ambassadors meets The Breakfast Club

Perhaps even more difficult than snagging a ticket to one of SAAAD’s sold-out club shows is trying to describe the experience to your less-lucky friends afterwards.

Their sound defies basic mortal conventions such as genre, instead better described by critic buzzwords, namely, transcendent and explosive.

Four band mates of wildly different backgrounds and styles meet to produce something that’s both the ultimate sum of their ancestral influences and entirely, uniquely theirs. Their music unabashedly melds high and low art- what begins as a pop punk song flows seamlessly into an operatic verse, while another number features elements of a baroque dance suite in what can best be defined as a modern club anthem. Their lyrics are equally packed with esoteric references and universal emotions.

It shouldn’t work- but it does. And it’s delicious. In order to tide you over until the album release, we’ve got the first look at its cover art, and as a gift to fans, it’s visually indicative of the band’s layered sound.

Many of you may be familiar with The Ambassadors from school trips to the National Gallery. The painting’s a popular subject of debate for art historians due to its detailed subjects and metaphysical symbolism. It’s reproduced faithfully here, albeit with a few cheeky adjustments.

SAAAD frontwoman Crystal Palace (yes, that Crystal Palace!) takes the place of the leftmost figure, complete with lavish outfit and undeniable rockstar swagger.

Across from her, drummer Charles Rowland stands in a dark coat, sticks clutched in a gloved hand.

Bassist Niko Sasaki lays across the top shelf à la Molly Ringwald, dandelion-crowned head at Palace’s shoulder.

Center frame- the band’s ‘brain’: virtuoso Edwin Payne sits with a lute across his lap and the painting’s infamous distorted skull slashing across his legs. (Memento mori seems to be a prevalent theme in many of SAAAD’s songs, though they often turn it into a lively celebration)

Eagle eyed fans will notice a couple additions to Holbein’s instruments- a bear figurine, a lantern, and a cherry blossom branch among them. Are they references to the band’s lyrics? Hints at future projects?

One thing’s for sure, we cannot wait to see more of this group. *

Spooky Action At A Distance’s album is available for preorder at record stores all across London.

Next live show: Saturday night at the Catabasis (tickets required in advance)

Booking inquires should be sent to Jenny Green.

HELLO I LOVE THIS?! for those unfamiliar with The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein, it's a 16th-century painting most famous for the weird distorted shape in the foreground, which looks like an alien object but is an anamorphic skull that comes into view if you approach it from certain angles. It's absolutely perfect for this band AU, I am shrieking. my eternal thanks to you anon

I actually drafted, but did not put in the fic itself, the track listing for the band's debut album AFTERLIVES, complete with writing credits:

SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET (Payne)

ACES DACES (Rowland)

LEFT OVER RITE (Payne)

TANPOPO NO KAMISAMA (Sasaki)

STICKY CRICKET WICKET (Rowland)

GIRLS’ KNIVES OUT (Sasaki, Surname von Hoverkraft)

RESTLESS PIANO SYNDROME (Payne)

PICK UP WHAT YOU’RE PUTTING DOWN (Rowland)

BRACELET ABOUT THE BONE (Payne)

BURY THE EX (Surname von Hoverkraft)

LANTERN IN THE DARK (Payne)

STAIRWAY TO HELL (Payne, Rowland) 

(bonus track)

13. GOT THE HELL OUT OF HELL (WE AIN’T GOING BACK) (Payne, Rowland, Sasaki, Surname von Hoverkraft)

gig officially gigged

[evrensadwrn]

.................okay but ROMANTIC Vincent x bodyguard could slap 😗🤨😲now that might be something I could potentially eat up. Suddenly I am hungry.

cringefailure french boy needs a bodyguard i got u bae dw

ʚ♡ɞ

You work for the Marquis de Gramont as a bodyguard

You’re well-versed in guns and all that combat jazz

You get your hands dirty for this guy, and commit acts of violence

It’s just your job anyways

It’s much better than being a common hitman or mercenary because then you have a boss to hide behind

A particularly hot boss to be specific

He’s attractive, you and the other Myrmidons agree upon that

Vincent is young in comparison to literally everyone in the Table’s circle of representatives and agents

He’s a hyperglot, he’s got a taste in art, he likes cats more than dogs, he’s sexy as hell, and he’s interesting when he talks sometimes

God, isn’t he just amazing?

It’s when you’re at the Louvre with this guy again(second time this week)

“What do you think about art?”

A simple, innocent question

Your answer goes along the lines of something basic

Nothing too profound, just rather something short and simple

And that sends the Marquis to talking about art and history as a whole

Now you know the difference between Baroque and Renaissance art

And you know Realism, Impressionism, and Romanticism

Vincent finds Romanticism particularly interesting: a quiet theme romanticizing the softer and more gentler parts of life

You can see that in him

Vincent gets excited when he talks about art

You can see it when he smiles, or when his eyes are practically gleaming as he talks

You only nod, answer simple and short when he pauses to ask

Then—

Then Vincent has you accompanying him more than often

You get a chance to talk to Chidi a whole lot, Vincent’s right hand man

And you get to hear more of Vincent’s ramblings

Attending bourgeois luxuries

Palais Garnier, and all that stuff

It only takes nine months(fuck, that’s nearly a year) for you to actually start seeing Vincent

Vincent, not the Marquis— but just him

A guy that plays piano and fills most of his days learning a new language if he’s not doing anything important

He holds everyone to high standards including you

But there’s always something that Vincent likes about you

It’s clear in his actions, really

“These gloves would suit you, don’t you think?”

Vincent likes giving gifts, he doesn’t know anything else about relationships or how to properly say it

But it’s clear

He first got you gloves when he saw your hands were particularly bruised

Then it just straight up jumped to him giving you a car, sleek black and elegantly shaped

God, you wish you were joking

But you wanted to test the waters first

“I want you to come with me to the Louvre again”

“Alright, kiss me on the cheek first”

Was that too bold?

Either way, after a moment of pause, which was Vincent just processing it—

—he kissed you on the cheek

What kind of chapstick was he using to get those lips so damn pink and perfect and soft?

You’ve been eyeing those lips for a while now

And feeling it first hand-

Fuck, it was exhilarating

“So are we gonna go now?”

Vincent put a hand on his hip as he asked you

“Yes, sir”

Shit, you were so fucking whipped

reblogs appreciated as always<33

[mesetacadre]

I'm in no way versed in musical theory but isn't the intro-chorus-verse-chorus and similar structures some people lament being so ubiquitous in contemporary music basically analogous to the main theme and variations structure that most pieces, especially longer ones, took in the baroque-classical-romantic period? Like maybe humans just generally like that sort of structure in music and it doesn't represent some kind of dumbing-down

[theemptyislost]

Putting this here while I edit ch 11.

Haunt Me ch 10 smut snippet

AO3 link - here

Rating: 18+ || Minors DNI

Pairing: Raphael / F!Tav / Haarlep [Haunt Me verse BS]

Warnings: dom/sub undertones | slipping into bad dom | edging | blood kink |makeshift gags | anal | double penetration

Full warning/tags on AO3 - snippet in undercut

(its long and I'm not sure how detailed I can get on this site so the whole thing is on ao3)

“I want to make it better…” Tav managed the words one at a time, in between brutal kisses.

Haarlep rasped a deep chuckle. Dark and deliciously twisted. The echoes of which settled along Tav’s veins like embers. “Oh, you will make it better – you both will.” A sharp loaded look at Raphael. Another nip along her neck. “I will take your repentance with submission, precious.”

“Of course, you will.” Raphael scoffed to their side in relief. His timbre dropping an octaval, husky with his own lust.

Tav wiggled out of Haarlep’s grasp. Landing on the balls of her feet, one hand fell against the edge of the bed to support herself. Her other pressed against Haarlep to shove them back a step and give her enough room to kneel.

This was…not something she did often – the act never demanded or pushed by either of her lovers. At one point in time, it was an act she rather enjoyed. Had given her satisfaction as she drew out pleasure from her partners. Something Astarion had spoiled for her. The ptsd it induced was involuntary…but in this moment Tav wanted to try – another mark expunged from her record of trauma.

Raphael and Haarlep both tensed at the action. Suddenly strung tight, like they expected her to break just from falling to her knees before them – sexual or otherwise.

Haarlep’s hand wound in her hair. Hesitation forefront in their gaze.

Their concern warmed Tav; made her feel safe in her decision to resume this particular position. It was not oral she was opposed to, so much as the kneeling. She wanted to do this, show this to them and bring pleasure to them as they did her.

“Little mouse…”

“Tav –“ Haarlep inquired. “This is not the type of submission I intended. We are aware... “ They would not voice it; neither would Raphael.

“I am sure – let me do this.”

“Any hint of a lapse  – “

“I know.” Her response was petulant – she did not want a reminder. She wanted to trust; to please; show them she was theirs in every sense.

Tav situated herself on her knees. Raphael’s baroque carpets cushioned her bones from the hard marble. One hand gripped the base of Haarlep’s cock while the other fell against the upper part of their thigh.

Their tangled grip in her hair tightened.

Raphael’s chest rattled a warning with his deep growl.

It only took a second – Tav did not even know what happened, did not intend for it to happen. The tremble in her fingers was completely involuntary; but it was enough for her fiends.

“Nope.” Haarlep stopped her. Swooped her up over their shoulder – unnecessarily –  and tossed her onto the bed. “There are other ways to do this, if you are so determined.” The sudden sense of vertigo chased the tremble from her fingers. Haarlep did not give her time to dwell on the small set back. Instead, they managed her as easily as if she were some doll. Positioned her so her head hung off the edge of the bed. Body splayed out, on her back, across the mattress.

Oh.

Tav was a bit irritated, she had not thought of this before. The new height put her at a much better position for access and control.

Happy with the new arrangement; Haarlep sunk down. Knees bent in a crouch; their hands brushed along the waves of hair cascading towards the floor. Glamoured eyes discreetly looking over her to Raphael, positioned on the opposite side of the bed. Tav felt the mattress dip under the weight of her cambion as he made himself comfortable by her ankles.

“I will have your submission, little dove.” Haarlep tipped their head to the side, hellish gold meeting the ruby of her own. “Your pain – that type – will not bring me pleasure.” They paused as if to collect themselves. “This is the only time tonight I will ask – “ Tav felt herself grow slick – arousal pooling low and deep. Raphael actions softened the severity of Haarlep’s tone. His fingers tickling senseless patterns up the inside of her calves, as they checked in on her. “Are you ok to continue?” Haarlep asked tightly.

“Yes.” Tav could see the restraint through the vestigial betrayal and ire. They were asking for consent, even after their unspoken threats. Foregoing their own desires, again, to make sure she was sound.

It was a kindness she had not been used to but should expect from them by now – it still shocked her. Their gesture kindled warmth where once there was only a void of algid despair.

Haarlep nodded once, fingers twirled within her loose curls, tugging gently.

“Does this position work for what you wanted?” Their question would be the final inquiry to her state of mind.

“Yes.” There was no hint of apprehension or doubt. The darkness of trauma could not reach her here – surprising enough.

“Then we will start here.” Haarlep struck, surprisingly soft lips slanted over her own in a lewd kiss. In turn, Raphael’s hand gripped her ankle. The firm grip pressed up, until the soft velvet tickled the sole of her foot. He encouraged her to bend her knees as sharp fangs nipped the inside of her opposite calf.

“I will be the only God you beseech tonight – sweet little thief.” Haarlep let the feral need bleed back into their gaze. Golden hues glimmered in a sea of black abyss – decorated with tiny shimmering flecks of red, like flames, Tav only just observed.

Haarlep stood.

Tav took initiative.

She lavished her hand from palm to fingertips in a way that drew near silent groans from both her fiends. Her spit acted as makeshift lube to pump Haarlep once, then twice. She wiggled back just a touch, so her head was at a better angle. Her tongue came out to swipe fully against their slit.

Haarlep’s cock bobbed at the sensation. Clawed hands fell against the bed to either side of her ribcage; their form curling over her, wings flicking out.

One of Tav’s hands gripped their hip; fingers pet along infernally decorated flesh. The other wrapped around their base, gripping the weight of them in her hand. The space between the tips of her finger and thumb gave her pause, their girth had always been intimidating. Tav was eager but knew they were too well endowed to just dive in. It would be best to ease into a full deep throat. This current angle, while better, was new to her and would take some getting used to. She mentally reminded herself that patience always paid off more in the long run when it came to sex.

Tav guided Haarlep to her lips. Tongue swirled around the head of their cock then pressed intently against the vein along the underside of them, before taking them into her mouth. The ribbed texture paired with the faded scent of cherry, and vaguely smoky salt of their skin gave an erotic flare to the act.

Raphael groaned in tandem with his incubus – Tav almost forgot Haarlep’s experience would mirror onto their master. Tav’s thighs instinctually pressed together around Raphael. The thrum of her own pleasure at the realization, made a darker part of herself tingle with her own sense authority.

Raphael’s attractive moan was cut off. The devilish purr muffled in a way that caused Tav to pull away to glance up at the pair.

Haarlep’s hand found one of Raphael’s horns. Their master had shifted to his cambion skin at some point during their spat. The sight alone was hot – enough that it encouraged Tav to continue. The visual of a slightly younger visage of Raphael making out with himself; now perfectly aged, did very damning things to Tav.

With the image burned into her mind, she went back to work. This time, pulling Haarlep closer. Head tilted and throat relaxed, she allowed her spit to pool enough to coat her lips and aid them in sliding across her tongue. Mindful of her fangs and teeth – although she bet they may be into a gentle graze – she avoided it. Something filed away for later if they were so interested.

Tav’s free hand wrapped around the width of them. She carefully squeezed and stroked the parts of their length she was unable to comfortably take at the moment.

There was a heady feel to controlling their pleasure like this. Powerful to the extent it kept her wet and ready. Every groan and hiss above her was a different language of praise that made fervor course through her. Her cheeks flushed as blood rushed to her head and lust curled within.

Tav felt a new sense of confidence bubble to the surface; she grew bold.

She carefully flexed her grip around Haarlep. Her other hand reached back so her fingers could dig into the muscles of their ass, pulling them flush against her. She made sure to breathe through her nose and relax her throat the best she could. Her tongue lavished the top of them. Writhed along the flesh she could get to before the girth of them pinned it down. When they were fully seated in her throat, she held them for a handful of seconds. Then repeated the process until she felt her gag reflex get accustomed to the sensation.

The muscles along Haarlep’s inner thighs quaked. The devilish rattled snarls and groans of both, Haarlep’s and Raphael’s, approval validated her actions.

The mattress dipped again as the large forms above her shifted.

The fiends rearranged until the soft breeze was shuttered, leaving her to feel as if she were surrounded by an inferno. Calloused hands descended to her form.

They touched her – finally.

Haarlep’s hands slid over her breasts. Fingers pinched her pearled nipples, then pet down her stomach to curl around each inner thigh. Warm hands drew her legs up and apart. Their steely grip pressed her knee into the mattress. Baring her, embarrassingly, to the world and Raphael. Displaying her as if she were some offering to be ruined.

Tav squeaked around Haarlep, when a second set of hands smoothed along the back of her thighs. Fingers trailed back down towards her center. A traced the outline of her, delving through her folds. She heard them both rumble at the evidence of how wet for them she was.

Their hushed whispers fell over her. Haarlep moved their hips without her guidance, hands still holding her knees to the mattress. Raphael took advanced of Haarlep’s assistance; he spread her open and licked her from cunt to clit in one go. Tongue flattened, the slight raised roughness of it – hellish and his own – made her moan around the cock in her mouth.

Haarlep cursed at the sensation.

Raphael snarled into her flesh at the shared experience. Lips sealed around her clit – finger penetrated her core.

Tav noted Haarlep and Raphael’s reaction, she hummed around their length experimentally. Her hand moved to gently cup their balls and massage. When she hallowed her cheeks and hummed again, Haarlep ripped themselves from her.

Raphael, too occupied to fully care, ate her like a beast starved. He drove her so quickly towards the precipice, her muscles contracted violently. Tav curled up, hands pressing against his horns in an attempt to push him away. Her thighs trembled from his pleasurable assault.

“Wait – “ Her rasped words were cut off by moans and shivers. His fingers slid from her, but his mouth stayed firm. Raphael licked and sucked while he secured her knees once more, this time pressing them up to her chest. He bent her in half and crawled over her, paying no mind to her rough grip on his horns.

Goddess be damned. She did not stand a chance.

“Raph –“ His name was cut off by the thick piece of silk Haarlep pressed between her parted lips. They wrapped the fabric around her head and secured it with a knot.

“That did not sound like my name.” There was an edge to Haarlep, power hungry and completely taken with their incubi nature.

Any response Tav tried to huff around the cloth quickly fled her mind.

Raphael shoved his tongue into her cunt – curled the appendage in a way that managed to brush that roughness against the sensitive spot along her upper wall. Tav’s eyes rolled at the feel.

Raphael had never eaten her out before – but by the stars was it a metamorphic, transformative, and rapturous experience.

Tav was going to touch Death’s gates again – for the third or fourth time.

The coil within her constricted. She could feel the microscopic contractions – the familiar precursors to an orgasm. Her cunt started to clench around Raphael’s tongue. The makeshift gag absorbed any of her desperately whimpered moans.

Haarlep’s face contorted, they leaned over her with a hiss, a hand shooting out to wrench Raphael off her by his horns. Tav mewled, chest heaving, perspiration gathering along her brow as the promise of an orgasm was stolen from her. Her hazy view of the room was quickly blocked as two sets of red membrane wings spread wide, secluding them all from the heat of Avernus. “That is quite enough, dear master, of ours.” Haarlep licked the glistening arousal from Raphael’s chin. Tav clenched around nothing at the vulgar sight. “That was not what we agreed on.”

Their conversation continued; tone nonchalant – down right casual – as they leaned over her. Matching eyes focused solely on each other.

“Is that so, dearest?” Raphael teased. His own cock fell heavy against her folds as he leaned in towards Haarlep. Hips dredged the entirety of his erection along her. The raised ridges and prominent veins distinct as they slid against her while he antagonized the incubus. He deliberately bumped her clit with every slow thrust as he held her down – pinned between them.

Tav knew they would not bring her any relief. She tried to discreetly move her hand lower to aid herself, put an end to Raphael’s torment of her.

Haarlep did not even have the decency to look down at her. Their hands immediately moved to ensnare her own and pin them back to the bed. Thumbs caressing the inside of each wrists in quiet admonition.

Tav groaned against the cloth in her mouth. She was rendered a voyeur to a discussion of her own ruin.

She squirmed below them. Her hips slanted against Raphael, desperate to gain some form of relief. A few pitiful muffled moans later, by the grace of everything unholy, her internal plights were answered.

There was a pressure against her entrance. A gentle push and the tip of something dexterous, thicker than a finger yet not a cock speared slowly into her.

A shallow thrust at first. When she did not resist, the object pressed deeper.

There was a sharp rasped snap of a foreign tongue followed by a silence. Tav watched Haarlep aggressively lean over her towards their cambion.

A knee came up to press into the palm of her hand, allowing them the freedom to grab at Raphael again to pull him closer. Their other hand pressed her wrist forcefully into the mattress with their weight. Both fiends’ lips smashed giving way to teeth and tongue as Haarlep thrilled at Raphael’s Infernally spoken confirmation.

Her two tormentors apparently came to an agreement on how to handle her.

Tav shuddered as the pressure within increased. The tapered object wiggled inside of her. Took care to hit sensitive zones Tav was not aware of. The movement caused her pelvis to automatically arch against it. She tried to match the pace it set. In response to her actions, the object withdrew, flicked hard across her clit then dipped back into her. Only then did Tav realize what the object – giving her quiet relief while Raphael distracted Haarlep – was.

His tail.

Raphael’s tail.

Goddess.

Tav’s eyes rolled, cheeks dark and rosy. Her shocked cry muffled by silk. Her legs cramped from being pressed to her chest. Strained from Raphael’s use of them as a perch, while he slid his warm cock against her and fucked her with his tail.

The thought alone threatened to undo her.

When her legs started to tremble as the ripples of another would be orgasm started to build, Haarlep finally noticed.

The incubus quickly hauled her from under Raphael. All snarls and false spurn, with a strength Tav had not expect. Raphael made no move to stop them. The ruler of Avernus simply reclined back on his haunches looking in every manor like the cat he claimed to be. His crimson tail flicked out – glistening; a devastating smirk painted across his handsome face.

Link if needed again: HM Chapter 10