#beautiful oblivion tour

[thesleeptokenarchive]

Bonus Remnant: Beautiful Oblivion Tour 2019

The Gramercy Theatre, New York, NY, USA

December 9 2019

Photo by Lina Glasir [IG/web]

[tikosblogg]

If I’m There.

Summary: Noah is on tour for the first time since you’ve started dating. He’s been gone for two months, and you’re not handling it very well.

Warning: Fluff, unprotected piv (wrap it up), sweet Noah, soft dom Noah.

A/N: This thought popped into my head, and it just seemed so sweet. So I had to write it out🥲

The room was dimly lit, the fading sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the walls. You let out a heavy sigh, collapsing onto your bed, a familiar weight settling on your chest. Two months had passed since Noah left for tour, and the distance felt heavier than ever. It gnawed at you like a persistent ache, one that found an outlet in your heartbeat. Each day bled into the next, a monochrome cycle of work and waiting.

You had spent the day buried in paperwork and meetings that felt far too tedious to endure. No matter how hard you focused, your mind drifted back to Noah—his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited, the gentle touch of his hand on your skin. You replayed old conversations in your mind, moments of warmth that felt so distant now. He called whenever he could, his charismatic voice a balm for your aching heart, but it was never quite enough.

After a quick shower, you changed into your softest pajamas, feeling an avalanche of exhaustion wash over you. Tonight, you needed to hear his voice, to bridge the yawning gap that separated you. You picked up your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you tapped out a message.

‘Can I call you?’

His reply came just moments later, and your heart plummeted the moment you read it.

‘Hey baby, I can’t at the moment. I’ll call as soon as I can.’

His words felt like a slap, the last bit of resilience you had evaporating in an instant. You put the phone down, staring at the blank screen, your thoughts spiraling into despair. The silence of the room enveloped you, accentuated by the absence of him and the way he could fill any space with warmth. Rolling over, you buried your face in your pillow and let the tears flow freely.

The world outside faded away, melted into a blur of muted colors and distant sounds. You were alone, utterly alone. The anxiety you already suffer with daily feeling 100 times worse. Each sob rattled through your body like a storm, releasing the pent-up frustration and longing that had buried itself inside you. Loneliness clawed at your heart with vicious claws, whispering doubts in your ear as you cried.

The gentle hum of the night enveloped the room, a stark contrast to the emotional storm that had engulfed you just hours before. While tears clouded your vision and sorrow gripped your heart, sleep finally claimed you, wrapping you in its oblivion. The world faded away, and for a brief moment, you found solace within the quiet sanctuary of your shared bed.

Noah's return was a surprise. The tour had been grueling, filled with endless nights under stage lights and overwhelming applause, yet none of it mattered as much as the thought of you. He had missed you fiercely, but the sight that greeted him as he entered the bedroom tugged at his heart with a pang of helplessness.

There you lay, as beautiful as ever, the soft rise and fall of your chest a soothing rhythm. But the deep breath he took turned heavy in his throat when he noticed the telltale signs of your distress—splotchy cheeks and the remnants of tears that lingered like an unfished chorus on your skin. It grieved him to know you had been alone, battling your emotions while he was miles away, lost in the frenzy of touring.

Moving quietly, Noah slipped off both his hoodie and shoes, careful not to wake you. Every step felt like an apology, a way to express the love that burst inside him like a thousand firework blooms. He climbed into the bed beside you, the mattress creaking slightly, but you remained blissfully unaware. Noah's heart raced as he positioned himself beside you, engulfing you in warmth as he slid under the comforter, shielding you both from the world.

He hesitated for a heartbeat, admiring the beauty of your face, still marked by sorrow yet painted with the gentle brush of sleep. With a determined tenderness, he pulled you against him, feeling your body mold into his—a perfect fit amidst the storm. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a vow to shield you from all the sadness that dared creep into your mind.

“I’m here baby,” he murmured, his voice a mere whisper yet thick with promise. Even in his exhaustion, he would fight against the shadows of your fears. It didn’t matter that he had flown halfway across the world; at this moment, all that mattered was right here, with you.

The warmth of his embrace began to seep into the crevices of your dreams, unwinding the threads of distress and weaving in comfort in its place. As you nestled your head against his chest, Noah’s heart beat steadily, providing a new lullaby—a sound that would coax you into a peaceful slumber, where worries could wait just a little longer.

In that quiet room, cradled within each other, the world outside ceased to exist. The distress that had carved itself into your life faded, pulled away by the strength of his presence. You were no longer alone.

You open your eyes, the room bathed in darkness. The little light you had from the moon shining through the curtains, helping you find your phone on the bedside table. You picked up, to check for any texts or missed calls from Noah. You suddenly noticed the quiet sound of steady breathing behind you, as you jumped up onto your knees spinning around to find Noah sleeping peacefully beside you.

You were in shock. Your hands flew to your mouth, as you tried to keep your happy cries quiet as to not wake him up. He’s here. You thought he wasn’t supposed to be here until his tour was over.

Your hands shook with excitement, as you tried to keep yourself from jumping on him. He looked beautiful, his brown hair tousled from sleep. He laid on his back soft breathes leaving his plush lips.

You examined the rest of his body, the comforter had slid down to his waist at some point during the night. You let your eyes travel down his throat towards chest, and down to his hips.

Looking over every tattoo, like you haven’t seen them a hundred times already. You struggled , trying to keep yourself together but you couldn’t anymore.

As silent tears fell down your cheeks, you softly threw your leg over his hips straddling him. You placed your palms on his abdomen, running them up and down his smooth skin.

Noah stirred slightly, a quiet murmur escaping his lips as his large hands instinctively reached to pull you closer. You felt your heart race at the contact; it was like the world around you melted away, leaving just the two of you in that dimly lit sanctuary. You could hardly believe your eyes or your luck—he was here, in your bed, warm and safe, as though he’d never left.

You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against his chest. It was a gentle touch, one that spoke of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t quite find the words for. His skin was warm and familiar, and the scent of his cologne lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Memories of late-night phone calls and sleepless nights waiting for his texts rushed back, but all those worries and the ache of distance seemed trivial now.

Noah began to wake, his eyelids fluttering open as a sleepy smile broke across his face. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” you responded, still struggling to keep from crying with joy. “I thought you were still on the road.”

“I was,” he said, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “But we have a few free days, I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to be here with you.” He whispered.

You felt your heart swell at his words. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” he grinned, his brown eyes sparkling in the dim light like stars emerging in a night full of possibilities. “I missed you so much, it hurt, you know?”

You nodded, feeling a flood of emotions surge through you. It had been harder than you expected during the months he had been away, and nights like this one, where everything felt perfect, had felt like distant dreams. But now—now he was right here, and it was real.

You leaned down again, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, craving the warmth and connection. His hands found their way to your ass, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. your senses flared; the warmth of his breath mingled with the intoxicating aroma of his cologne, wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

You moaned softly when he gently bit your bottom lip, a playful spark igniting in his deep-set eyes. The sound you made told him everything he needed to know, and with a grin that sent shivers racing through you, he flipped you over with ease.

Now, he hovered above you, a vision of love and intensity. The shift in dynamics filled the air with an electric anticipation. You looked up at him, heart racing, pussy clenching in response to the way he gazed down at you..

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, sending a ripple of excitement coursing through you.

“exactly this,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. His presence was overwhelming yet comforting, a paradox you’d come to adore.

His lips quirked into a smile, and he lowered himself to brush his nose against yours. “I love you so much.” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimacy that enveloped you both.

His eyes sparkled with adoration as he leaned down to plant soft, teasing kisses along your jawline, and down to your neck. Each touch ignited flames of desire, making you arch your back and lean into him, craving the heat between you both.

“Tell me what you want,” he encouraged, his mouth hovering just above your skin.

You swallowed hard, emotions swirling wildly within you. You had always been the quieter one, but tonight felt different. There was a magnetic energy that emboldened you. “I want you…all of you.”

With a swift motion, he captured your lips again, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with everything left unsaid. It was intoxicating—the give and take of your breaths, the way your bodies moved together seamlessly, as if choreographed by some unseen force.

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression intense and sincere. “You have me” he smiled, running his tongue over the seam of your lips. You groaned, your fingers finding the waistband of his sweatpants. With another kiss, you reached inside pulling his already hard dick out.

He sighed at the feeling, dropping his head into your neck. “Fuck baby.” He groaned as you slowly stroked him. After he had enough, he pushed your hand away, sitting back on his knees pulling your pajama shorts and underwear off. You let your thighs fall apart, silently begging him to finally touch you.

He reached down slowly running his thumb back and forth over your swollen clit, making you gasp. “You know I love taking my time with you baby, but I can’t wait anymore.” He breathed, laying back over you and positioning himself right at your entrance.

You nodded, as he kissed your lips pushing into you slowly. You both groaned against each others lips, as he stretched you out. You could almost cry at the feeling. You had missed it so much. He turned his head, biting and sucking the skin of your neck, as his hips snapped against yours.

“Fuck Noah….I love you.” You whined, as he continued filling your body with so much pleasure. “I know baby, I love you too.” He grunted at his hips sped up. He reached up, grabbing your jaw, and turning your head towards him. He gently shoved his thumb between your lips, pressing it against your tongue.

“I need you to cum for me baby, I’m not gonna last long.” You whimpered around his digit, before he pulled it out, and pressed it firmly against your clit rubbing it quickly. “Oh fuck! Yes yes yes.” You whined, as his hips sped up more now pounding into you. “Fuck baby you feel so fucking good. You’re fucking perfect.” He panted down at you.

You whimpered and moaned, as you looked down between the both of you, watching him fuck deep into your swollen pussy. The sight alone, had you reaching your peak, as you clenched around his dick. He grunted, fucking through it. “Good girl baby, just like that.”

After a few more thrusts, his hips faltered and he emptied himself inside you. He collapsed on top of you, as you both laid there catching your breath. He finally lifted his head, looking down at you with a smile small. He pecked your lips, as you reached up, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed this so fucking much.” He smirked, before pressing his lips to your neck again, his voice a quiet whisper. “Good. Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

[hwaightme]

Timezone

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🎸 pairing: rockstar!fiance!seonghwa x gn!reader 🎸 genre: fluff, long distance angst, established long-term relationship 🎸 summary: "Only thing that keeps us apart // Is a different timezone" - TIMEZONE by Måneskin; during a long tour, the only thing seonghwa wants is to come home to you, and to hold you in his arms 🎸 wordcount: 3.2k total 🎸 warnings/tags: not edited, language, songfic, enamoured simping activated, seonghwa misses you intensely, he is one step away from swimming to you, seonghwa has tattoos and lip piercings, lyricist producer musician rock singer hwa good luck to us all, words of endearment/pet names (baby, angel... etc) 🎸 taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 🎸 a/n: this is for @starrysvn the most wonderful, beautiful soul. thank you for being who you are, ilysm. and may this small manifestation of our shared delulus bring some sunshine~

There was no salvation for a heart that was on the verge of breaking. No call could replace the sensation of a lover’s whisper, no video could replace the feeling of skin against skin nor of a warm and reassuring embrace. The myriad of details that made you who you were seemed to be slipping through Seonghwa’s fingers, and he was a desperate man drowning in quicksand of responsibility and routine.

Every chord was a strike of the coldest and sharpest blade on his tired body, and the sweat trickling down his face as he yelled his emotions to thousands masked the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was unbelievable, how in the faces of millions the only features he could ever make out were those that resembled yours. In every cheer he could only hear you, how you could make his name sound like magic. The lyrics – a simple selection of syllables, words, always fell short of describing how he felt, and every song appeared trivial compared to the fire in his heart, to your existence in his life.

Too many miles separated you, and he would be damned if he were to say that he was fine with it. This was the unbelievable curse of his work. An artist, a singer, a musical innovator who had evolved from being in a group of hoodlums with a dream to being in a star-studded collective, a band that was paving the way for many others and inspiring loyal and new fans to reach the stars with them. But where was his star? Even when surrounded by the speakers, side by side with his friends on those grand global stages, this question never left Seonghwa’s mind. Losing sight of what he truly desired, he ran into an oblivion.

After the concerts, it was customary for the young man to spend some time with his fans, still on an adrenaline rush and thus were expecting interaction, further connection, and insights into the most recent performance. However, tonight, he could not even begin to find the energy to press the right button. Claiming that he was feeling a little under the weather, Seonghwa delegated the role of publicity man to another member and hobbled to his hotel room, collapsing onto the bed sheets not caring for the state of his clothes, his hair, nor for the creases that were undoubtedly going to form. This was no issue.

The electric guitar, his trusted comrade in composition and emotional turmoil, was left in a black case on the floor. Stickers marking the cities he had visited decorated a portion of the surface, while the rest was another depiction of you. Scurrying off the bed, he erratically shot to the case and brought it up with him, letting it rest by his side so he could admire the artwork more closely. Over many days, you had decided to surprise him by painting the dark leather, echoing famous renaissance pieces and intricate flora. Impeccable, incorporating nods to his and your lives through symbolism, be it in the hint of a star ship, a guitar pick, or a paintbrush hidden in foliage, it was a reminder of a life that he always wanted to live and to keep close.

He wanted to destroy the walls of his room. He wanted to break the glass, fight the agony of the sorrowful monster eating away at his soul with physically radical action, anything to take his mind away from the fact that you were thousands of miles away, and that when he was cursed to be awake, you were in dreamland. He could not even protect you from the nightmares that you sometimes had. He could not keep you close. You were unable to run your hands through his inky black, long and tousled locks as a way to calm yourself. Why was he doomed to sacrifice the heavenly touches and sweet words in favour of roaming the globe like a madman, screaming the same things into a microphone until they lost all meaning? Seonghwa missed you. Violently. Painfully. Aggressively. If it took raising hell to elevate him to your heaven before he would ultimately crumble, he would choose to do so in a heartbeat.

His hands inadvertently travelled into the pocket of his flared jeans, fishing out the device which he had been glued to for the full duration of his tour. At any spare second. Lockscreen – your smiling face, surrounded by the scenery of his hometown when you two went for a visit over the holidays. Tapping in the date of your birthday, he came face to face with a photo where you two were together – a candid picture snapped by his closest friend and fellow band member during a celebratory dinner; you two laughing at a joke shared between yourselves, so in love that every part of you and him were intertwined. Seonghwa wanted to break himself apart. Take his heart and mind out and douse them in cold water so that at least for a moment he could have some space to breathe before ultimately repeating: you, you you again. Fingers flying to tap onto the messaging app you preferred to use most often, though the two of you had conversations going on almost every piece of social media, he scrolled through your chats, relistened to the voice messages and scrutinised every photo until it was re-imprinted in his brain. As if he could ever forget in the first place.

He would likely be a laughingstock, wouldn’t he? A man with the world at his feet, wanting nothing more than to collapse at the feet of another. Sure, his fans were no strangers to the fact that there was ‘a special someone’ in his life, though since he made sure to keep his private matters truly secure, no one knew who was the reason why he woke up even when the day was promising challenge and turmoil. The only sign of his undying devotion that he dared to expose with shameless pride was the tiny red band around his pinkie, a simple line alluding to the string of fate, of soulmates. One night, not too long ago even though it seemed that you knew each other for your entire lives, when you had the chance to spend time together without worrying about work matters and could let time trickle past while stargazing, he proposed. Perhaps it was not traditional, the four words uttered only in passing after you had already blessed him with your agreement. Instead Seonghwa had suggested the permanence of a tattoo as a symbol for your love, and revealed his faith and devotion. Written in the stars, he found his guidance in you. Just like the constellations, galaxies and mythical creatures permanently etched on his skin, he wanted to live the neverending story with you.

As he shifted his grip on the phone to glance at the red band, Seonghwa could not help but imagine what you could be doing right this second. Could you be stirring from sleep? Could you be getting ready for another day at work? How was that one personal project you picked up going? He hammered out letter after letter on driven by what had to be an external power, so much mightier than him. The rockstar bit his lower lip, feeling a tug on one of the piercings, but that made him simply bite down harder.

I’m losing my mind.

Without hesitation, he sent the message into the void, hoping that you would not be too worried and simply accept it as one of his eccentricities as an artist. Finally, he tugged off the leather jacket that had been clinging onto his body, suffocating him, and collapsed back onto the bed. Exhaustion was a beast weighing down on him and pushing him into the mattress. Nothing but a lonely carcass, Seonghwa imagined himself as carrion left for the devouring by devious promoters, producers, agents and the like. Freedom was an interesting concept in his industry. Did he have it? Or was it the case that as soon as he gave into a dream, he signed his very being away to be an offering for the money-hungry world? He was definitely going mad. He needed you. Seonghwa missed you. Feverish, anxious, he grabbed a fistful of the duvet with his free hand and counted the passing seconds, too many of them, but not as much as the distance between where he was supposed and wanted to be, and where he currently was.

A loud ringing jolted him out of his paralysing ruminations – his phone. He rolled his head to the side, and upon seeing the incoming video call could not be faster in wriggling to rest on the headboard and answer. So you were awake, and in a couple of seconds… there you were, hair in a loose side braid, a familiar vintage t-shirt adorning your shoulders. You were at the desk – your home office, cradling what had to be a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Nothing. Just how you liked it.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and soon enough, his smile returned to him too, though still a little weak, beaten down by the weeks spent apart. It was still dark where you were, while for him it was already dark. It was easy to face when with you, however – nothing could be brighter than you.

“You’re wearing my old clothes?” Seonghwa could not help but ask, too curious to refrain from the inquiry. You looked down at the shirt momentarily before lifting your head and nodding.

“Yep. There’s been a change of plans so I am working from home today. And… I wanted to have a day-long hug from my fiancé.”

“You always wear them better, and I wish it were me and not the tee, angel,” he sighed, eyes trailing down what part of you he could see. He might be wrong, but you appeared to be a little tired, dark circles more prominent under your gorgeous eyes, and movements a fraction more lethargic than how they would usually be in the mornings.

“Is that what you were losing your mind over?” you attempted to lighten the mood, but Seonghwa could not play along when the joke was a reality. You caught onto this quickly enough, and paused to look at him more closely.

Seonghwa could feel the intensity of your inspection. It was as though you were reading him like one of the many books you had collected. Basking in the attention from his lover, he leaned further back onto the pillows and let himself think out loud.

“We have another flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, next is the third to last concert, right-”

“I want to fly to you,” the young artist cut you off, staring at nowhere in particular as he voiced his one wish.

“It’s not too long now, Hwa, and then we have a whole month to ourselves. No touring. Home.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But also, I am proud of you. You are bringing dream to reality-“

“Fuck what I’m dreaming. What does all of this mean anyways?” he retorted, making you raise an eyebrow before leaning onto the desk.

“All of this means that you are yourself. You are an artist. A light for so many souls. And if you cannot hear this, then let me remind you that I love you, the you who is so driven, so talented and so hardworking. Park Seonghwa who has been destined to become a star and give hope to millions. You are yourself, and that is what is so precious and iconic about you.”

You had a way with words. You always did. Stepping in when he was at his lowest and managing to drag him out of what he had assumed was an abyss, you were his biggest supporter, cheerleader, muse. When he was afraid to put pen to paper or deemed a melody worthless, you were the one to encourage him to experiment, try things out regardless, and with such strength that now it was a philosophy he abided by; it never hurt to try, and perfection was impossible. What was achievable, however, was satisfaction and happiness with the self. It was more than enough to try. And now, you were the one fearlessly bearing the catastrophic mass that was his worries with the last tour dates.

“Oh how dare you…” he mumbled, lips trembling ever so slightly as he pushed out the words. Involuntarily a mist settled over his eyes, and Seonghwa’s surroundings began to blur.

“No, baby come on, don’t cry, or we’ll be crying together. Let’s stay strong for each other, yeah? Like the dragon you have? Let’s leave the tears for later, and hopefully make the source of them a happy one,” you cooed, your own heart being torn apart as you witnessed your lover’s vulnerability, raw misery expressing itself as the hard exterior of a professional rockstar fell away. The hint at one of his many tattoos made Seonghwa’s mouth twitch into a tiny smile, an adoring gesture to remind your fiancé that you could draw each of the masterpieces from memory, having spent many nights tracing them with your digits.

“I-… Y/N I… I love you so much, you know that, right?” The confession turned query was choked, feeble, fragile, an offering made of the thinnest glass. One that you would protect with your life.

“Hwa, I love you too. So much…”

“Everything makes me think of you…” fatigue was evident, coating his vocal cords thick with a somnolent huskiness.

“Soon, you won’t have to remember me. You will have me in real time. Will you look forward to that for me?”

“Always.”

One topic, another, talking about nothing and everything at once. Trivial matters transformed into beautiful tales. In what had appeared to him to be no time at all, you had to rush into your first meeting of the day, while he was left a little less lonely in the hotel room continents away from you, with only his guitar and your reassuring love to keep him company. A hope, an excitement rekindled in his chest, bubbling up and flying across the bloodstreams into a tingling sensation in the fingertips, and a pleasant, hazy buzz in his brain. Caught between what had to be sleep and delirium, Seonghwa moved exclusively on instinct. In a few movements, he produced a tattered notebook and pen that had listened to his every confession and flipped it to an empty page before setting it down on the sheets.

Carefully, he took the guitar out of its case, and upon checking that it was properly tuned let a few notes hang in the air. The longer Seonghwa stared at the wall, the more confident he became in the fact that he could see you standing there in front of him, and as the words began to pour, it was you who he was confiding in. When with you, he was not afraid. When dedicating yet another song to you, he could not care less for the lack of rest, for how he greeted the dawn. He had a week until the last show, and he sure as hell was going to make full use of it.

The arena was silent aside from a few yells, before they too, succumbed to the suspense. The spotlights were almost blinding, and Seonghwa suddenly felt grateful for the fact that his image allowed for sunglasses. Elegantly perched on the bridge of his nose, they masked his anxiety as he adjusted his microphone, setting it back onto the stand while the rest of the band was exchanging glances and making the last checks before the grand finale, what he had decided would be the last ‘official’ song of the concert, and therefore the tour. Of course, the audience would ask for an encore. Of course, he would step right back out on stage to perform it – the act had already been planned in advance. But it was this song, one that he and his closest friends had spent night and day finalising, recording, even sending off to be made commercial, that would be his final word.

“Distance is measured in miles, and in how strongly you feel them. This is ‘Timezone’,” following the brief introduction, he momentarily shut his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. In that split second, he did not exist. He was not on stage, he was home. Seonghwa could feel your hand on his shoulder and could float in your perfume. This was no different to how he would play for you in the living room – anything you wished for, he would either perform or learn on the spot or even create. So, maybe, just maybe, you will be able to hear him now, too. And how he was calling out for you, and was counting the seconds until he could see you again.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

A roar overtaking expressions of gratitude. With every bow the crowd grew wilder and wilder. Chants praising the song were unfathomably strong, and Seonghwa had no doubt that the videos would go viral. Would you see them? Would you message him after? He did not need the answers to these questions. Not when he almost dropped his guitar as he saw you standing backstage, arms open wide, a staff lanyard around your neck. He was thankful for how you did not mind his sweat-covered arms, his glistening forehead as he pressed himself against you. He was enamoured with how your lips fit perfectly together, piercings and all, as he planted one kiss after another, each one bringing him back to life. He was eternally devoted to every moment with you.

“I told you, soon, didn’t you?” He could not respond, instead choosing to nod lest he break down in the midst of his overwhelming elation, “same timezone…” you altered the lyrics – sunlight after a rainstorm.

“I’m home, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair before pulling you even closer to him, arms wound tight around your body, fingers dancing on your back as though he was still in disbelief that you were here.

“Welcome home, my love,” he leaned into your hand that reached for his face, letting you cup it. With nothing to keep you two apart, Seonghwa let himself get lost in your eyes, the string of fate winding tighter and tighter until his, and your heart were both glistening in a healing gold, the hints of cracks sealed and more beautiful than ever, standing the test of time, of space, of dreams.

🎸 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

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[erikftglitter]

Ch 1 | The Piteous Life of Dr. Stevens’ New Wife

Killmonger AU

Created By: Erikftglitter

“Hey Dr. Stevens. It’s Kari. I just wanted to thank you again for the kind gesture.”

Erik read the message several times before exuding a deep sigh. He had spent most of the night trying to forget the younger woman, but the universe was setting him up for failure.

She’s practically in our hands, Erik.

He wanted to silence the overbearing thoughts from flowing but he couldn’t help but to also think that it was true. Didn’t he deserve the woman and kids that Kari, and so many others, mentioned to him before? Did he really want to commit to dying alone in a world like this?

“No need to thank me Kari. Thank you for not contacting the board about our collision.”

Erik found himself humored with his own response. Little did he know that Kari was gushing from the desk chair that she was texting from. Could this be? She wondered if the doctor would really be interested in seeing her again. Well, seeing her under normal circumstances.

“I won’t…. Only if you allow me to be your tour guide.”

Kari was persistent, inexperienced, but persistent to get the ex-SEAL out of the house. She surprised herself with her forwardness but the clock was ticking and her local blue-collared men were no where near as appealing as Dr. Stevens.

“A man of my word, that I am. Saturday?”

Erik needed to be strategic about his decisions moving forward if he wanted this woman to live. His self deprivation was starting to take a toll on him. He knew that it wouldn’t take long for it boil over once Kari was in his presence.

Just thinking about the girl’s astonishing aura and utter beauty made Erik’s dick jump yet again. What was it about her? He thought back to the initial moment when they locked eyes. She could not maintain eye contact and that certainly enamored him. He could spot a submissive woman quite easily.

Not just someone who was infatuated by the idea of being dominated by him, but someone who was completely meek. Someone who would be most compliant tied up and fucked to the state of oblivion. Kari Evans radiated that. Erik was 99% percent that his declaration of the girl was correct but he’d be patient enough to find out.

“Yes. Wear comfy shoes.”

Erik was more than pleased to return back to work. To focus on a ruptured appendix, or to remove someone’s gallbladder, or even just to guide one of his residents through a hemorrhoid surgery, supplied him a reasonable amount of distraction time. During surgery his main focus was his performance efficiency. Dr. Erik Stevens did not kill patients. One of the reasons the he remains one of the highest earners in the nation is due to that. Erik knew his limitations and typically did not engage in anything that would kill anyone, inside and outside of the operating room, post departure from the Navy.

“Dr. Stevens. Got a minute?” Erik glanced up from his seat at the computer and signaled for the man to continue.

“I was looking over Mrs. Gutierrez’s files, the one who was just transferred, and she’s rejecting the transplant.”

Erik’s face fell into a deep frown. In only his three months at Oregon State Hospital, he’s noticing the consistent errors being completed by the competing hospital. Once their team botches a surgery; Erik and his team are left to clean up the mess.

“Another transplant this soon would kill her before the week ends. Contact her family and consult about the removal. If they wait then the sepsis will spread.”

Erik looked at the extent of the damage on the results that his resident provided. He’s not completely successful just because of his own experience. Thankfully Oregon welcomed him with a skilled team upon his negotiation and he was provided with them when he arrived. He wasn’t fond of many people in his life, but some of his team made his job rewarding.

“Great call.” He murmured to himself. He learned from his mentor, that learned from his mentor, and so forth, that praising young professionals too early made them arrogant. Made them incompetent surgeons who overlooked misplaced sutures, mistreated nurses, and failed to remain at the peak of their performance. The younger surgeon reminded him of himself. That was as respected as he could be.

Kari on the other hand was not having a good time. One of her middle schoolers thought it was a great idea to climb a tree and ultimately suffered a great fall. Why? Kari didn’t have the time to asks as the girl was soaking blood through her jeans.

With trembly hands, Kari used her walkie talkie to call for an ambulance and tried her best to soothe the hysterical girl.

“It’s okay. I got you.” Kari must have repeated that a thousand times before the first responders arrived.

“Ms. Evans. Nina will not cooperate unless you ride with her.” Principal Grant said to Nina as she stood up to disregard the abundance of bloody tissues.

“Don’t worry about the sub plans. The parents would like if you accompanied her as well.” He gave her an empathetic look. “Thank you for being one of good ones.” He whispered when Kari was helped in the ambulance by the first responders.

It was true. Kari was an extraordinary educator. Each of her students were individualized. She knew their strengths, allergies, their personalities, and their ability to learn. Because Caber City’s public school system was barely funded by the state of Oregon, most of teachers were underpaid. Most teachers married rich and taught for a hobby. The students rarely got the opportunity to experience a memorable relationship with education, but Kari made it her mission to change that.

Because she was young and unmarried with a strong sense of change, she was immediately disliked by her coworkers. She grew to pity their lives instead of watching in sorrow. Her students had the highest grades, standardized test scores, and overall success. That was no coincidence and it didn’t go unnoticed. If Kari wasn’t good at anything else she knew that she was a wonderful teacher. Years of watching and modeling her grandmother instilled that in her. She remembered her everyday.

“What’s going? How’d this happen?” Kari met the frantic parents as soon as she arrived at the hospital.

“During her lunch hour she wandered off to a tree and fell several feet from the ground.” The gasps from Nina’s parents troubled Kari. She hated bad news and bad things in general.

“I’m very sorry that this happened. I’ll go now, but I wanted to ensure that Nina was safely taken to the hospital.” Kari spoke again. Not really sure what else she could provide to these poor girls’ parents.

Nina’s mother spoke again. “Thank you for riding with her. She hates hospitals and probably would have passed out if she had to go alone.” Even though the shakiness, Kari understood every word. These were the moments that made her restless nights worth it.

Kari reached her hand to Nina’s mom, and looked at both parents, “She’s a very sweet girl. They’ll take great care of her.” With her final comment she began to frantically rush out the hospital herself. She hated hospitals just as much. With the amount of dried blood on her own clothes she knew that it wouldn’t be long before her own panic attack started.

Kari didn’t care about who she was running past, she just knew that she needed fresh air before she began to hyperventilate. The memories of finding her own grandparents in pools of blood haunted her. Drunk drivers collided with their car and drove away, killing both of the people who raised her.

“Kari?”

“Oh shit. Kari. Breathe.”

“Breathe.”

Erik took in the scene in front of him. There was no way this was yet another coincidence. This was going to be the one that one that Kill was going to play with.

With guided breaths and some gentle touches of encouragement, Kari was able to control her breathing. She’s not sure when she realized that it was Dr. Stevens she had been talking to, but at least it saved her the embarrassment of passing out in the middle of the road. She hadn’t thought about the fact that she was in the doctor’s proximity.

Between the wails of her student and the acquisition of her own trauma, she didn’t have much time to think about Erik.

“It’s alright Kitten.”

—

@ladymac82 :)

[hanlimz]

synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

[khaire-traveler]

🏞️ Subtle Lethe Worship 🪦

A majority of this will be UPG. There is very little information out there on the worship of Lethe.

Visit a local river, creek, or body of water; sit beside it and relax - draw, paint, fish, etc.

Take a walk/hike along or near a river

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of rivers, caves, or forests

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal of whatever you associate with forgetfulness or oblivion

Have symbols of rivers (especially those leading into caves), cypress trees, caves, coins, or rowboats around

Collect river water (please do not drink this)

Grow moss, pothos, english ivy, spider plants, bamboo, or other water based plants

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones

Have a collection of coins with the intention of dedicating them to any souls in need of coins to cross with Charon into the Underworld

Practice mindfulness; practice patience

Feed local fish or water-based fowl (no breads please; research what is best to feed these animals)

Take a walk in the moonlight (if safe to do so in your area)

Explore a nearby cave/take a cave tour (safely!!!)

Visit hot springs if able; take a dip in them

Drink water regularly; stay hydrated

Learn to go with the flow more; practice releasing control

Take a warm bath/shower, especially at the end of the day; maybe have floating tea lights and calming herbs in the bath (safely)

Make a list of your favorite memories or memories that make you smile/laugh

Take lots of pictures, especially of things you find beautiful or dear to your heart

Try learning to kayak, paddle board, or something similar

Collect river rocks

Let go of things that no longer serve you

Recognize how far you've come; take a moment to acknowledge all your personal growth

Drink a warm tea or comforting beverage

Engage in activities that calm/relax you

Sit in silence for a bit; take this time to decompress or meditate; you're more than welcome to engage in quiet activities

Allow yourself to feel your feelings; find healthy outlets for these emotions (drawing, boxing, dancing, singing, etc.)

Practice forgiveness towards yourself; come to terms with past mistakes

Support environmental preservation organizations

Pick up trash from nearby rivers, streams, or creeks

Stand in river water; ground yourself using the waters; think of anything you want to let go of and imagine that as a paper boat floating away from you down the river

Try to maintain a consistent sleep schedule

Have a nighttime routine

Take care of yourself emotionally and physically

Listen to music that relaxes/comforts/soothes you; sing or dance to it

Leave a glass of river water out on your windowsill, especially at night; replace it if it starts getting gross or something

Make your space comfortable and relaxing for you; maybe decorate with cool colored fairy lights or fake vines

Hang up any pictures that make you think fondly of on your walls; keep a photo album

If you struggle to remember to do tasks, write yourself reminders and sticky notes in places you'll see them

Camp somewhat near a small stream or river (BE AWARE OF FLASH FLOODS!!!)

Practice mindfulness

If you swim, float on your back for awhile; if not, close your eyes while relaxing in a bathtub or while sitting in the shower

Burn incense that relaxes you (leave a window open for this to help your lungs)

-

I will likely add more later as this list doesn't feel complete to me. This was pretty tough to come up with ideas for, but I did my best! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Lethe. I hope someone finds this helpful. May Lethe relieve your pain and worries, if you wish her to. 🩵

List of Subtle Worship Master list

[black-arcana]

EPICA Releases New Single 'Arcana'

Dutch symphonic metal titans EPICA have released a brand new single, "Arcana". The track heralds a new chapter in EPICA's two-decade-long history and marks the band's first new release since the group's chart-topping 2021 album "Omega" and the collaboration EP "The Alchemy Project". It offers a glimpse into the band’s future music, coming in 2025.

EPICA comments: "'Arcana' guides you through the universal stages of spiritual evolution in life. It leads the way to a higher consciousness and spiritual self-awareness.

"Writing this song was a spontaneous effort, so it came together quickly, which felt so natural that it wrote itself. The music contains classic EPICA elements but has some vibes that might remind you of '80s alternative rock or modern metal."

The single is now available on all streaming platforms. It also includes "The Ghost In Me (Danse Macabre)", EPICA's recently released collaboration with Europe's second-most visited theme park, Netherlands's magical De Efteling, and their much-anticipated new attraction, Danse Macabre.

The music video for "Arcana", directed by Remko Tielemans, can be seen below.

In a recent interview with Spain's Mariskal Rock, EPICA singer Simone Simons spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for the follow-up to "Omega" album. She said: "I think that there should be a single by the end of the summer-ish. That's that's our plan. And the album should be released [in] 2025.

"I just wrote with Mark [Jansen, guitar] and Rob [Van Der Loo, bass] also yesterday that I'm so happy with the songs, I'm so proud how everything turned out and it's gonna be another amazing EPICA album.

"We added a couple of new elements, but also went back to the roots, the old EPICA," she continued. "And yeah, I just can't wait for people to hear this.

"I loved 'Omega' and we toured so much with 'Omega' and had wonderful experiences, but then when you reach the end of a touring cycle, you start to get itchy and feel, 'Okay, now it's time to do the new album. Can we do it as good or maybe even better than the last album?' That's always the thing we strive for, ways to renew ourselves a little bit. And we feel a very strong spiritual connection also that it's our ninth album. So there's gonna be themes around the symbolic meaning of nine, the number nine."

Elaborating on the musical direction of EPICA's next album, Simone said: "The songs are heavy. There's a beautiful ballad, a very cinematic song, very uptempo, very doomy, melancholic and amazing, amazing power riffs. It's the most epic EPICA, I think, so far. Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm feeling it. I'm very happy with it. I'm proud of it. And they are going to start recording the orchestra now next week. They're flying to Prague; that's where we record the orchestra. And I will be recording my final vocals as well."

In November 2022, EPICA released "The Alchemy Project" through Atomic Fire Records. The EP was co-written and performed with diverse guests ranging from extremists like FLESHGOD APOCALYPSE, Niilo Sevänen (INSOMNIUM) and Björn "Speed" Strid (SOILWORK) along with melodic masters like Tommy Karevik (KAMELOT),keyboard legend Phil Lanzon (URIAH HEEP) and Roel Van Helden (POWERWOLF) to a once-in-a-lifetime song with Simons, Charlotte Wessels and Myrkur.

Just one day after the release of its anniversary reissues "We Still Take You With Us" and "Live At Paradiso", EPICA celebrated 20 years of existence live in September 2022 at 013 in Tilburg, Netherlands, the same place where they played their first show (supporting ANATHEMA) back in 2002.

EPICA was formed by Jansen after leaving AFTER FOREVER in 2002, and the band quickly gained attention outside their home country, taking big steps towards becoming the leading symphonic metal superpower they have long proven to be. After their ambitious debut "The Phantom Agony" (2002) and the surprisingly eclectic sophomore work "Consign To Oblivion" (2005),the road took them to new heights via their first concept masterpiece "The Divine Conspiracy" (2007) and their global breakthrough "Design Your Universe" (2009). 2012's opus "Requiem For The Indifferent", 2014's bedazzling "The Quantum Enigma" and "The Holographic Principle" (2016),cemented their reputation as not only one of the hardest-working metal bands in the business but also as one of the best. With "Omega", the final part of the metaphysical trilogy they began with "The Quantum Enigma", they reclaimed the throne without so much as the blink of an eye, amassing three million-plus streams during the first week of the album's release.

Photo credit: Tim Tronckoe

[mixtapemag]

JULIEN BAKER AT THALIA HALL

Photos by Christopher Hall

Julien Baker kicked off her fall 2024 tour with an unbelievable show full of twists and turns on Monday night in Chicago. Julien walked on stage solo to start the set - launching into "Guthrie." The set saw live debuts of "Conversation Piece" and "Crying Wolf" and the debut of a brand new song named "Middle Children."

Julien introducing "Middle Children" was met with an excited roar from the crowd before the room fell completely silent - each human being in Thalia Hall feeling new Julien music wash over them. The song was beautiful and synthy and full of harmonies. It feels like a big new warm direction for JB.

The rest of the setlist bounced back and forth between Julien backed by her big band and just her and a guitar. There was a funky "Shadowboxing" and a big loud "Turn Out The Lights" which kicked off the encore. A one-two punch of "Ringside" and "Hardline" off of Little Oblivions closed the night.

Monday night was the start of a multi-city North American tour that runs through the end of October. Julien and the band sound spectacular and you should make it a priority to get out to a show ASAP.

Check out everything Julien Baker over here.

Previously on Mixtape:

Photos of Julien Baker at The Kennedy Center.

Photos of boygenius at connect festival.

Photos of boygenius at pryzm.

Photos of boygenius at the piece hall.

Photos of boygenius at way out west 2023.

Photos of boygenius at the idaho botanical garden.

Photos of boygenius at the forest hills stadium.

Photos of boygenius at the fox theater.

Photos of boygenius at the premiere of "the film".

Photos of Julien Baker at Fox Theater.

Photos of Julien Baker at 9:30 Club.

Photos of Julien Baker at Amplify Decatur.

Photos of boygenius at Brooklyn Steel.

Photos of Julien Baker at Shadow of the City.

Photos of Julien Baker in Prospect Park.

Photos of Julien Baker at White Eagle Hall.

Photos of Julien Baker at Union Transfer.

Photos of Julien Baker at Outside Lands.

Photos of Julien Baker at Newport Folk Festival.

Christopher Hall posts over here. Go see Julien & the band.

[whositmcwhatsit]

Well, hello there

My, it's been a long, long time...

Once upon a time, a bored little girl was watching a documentary about a strange and beautiful boy singing a sad, lonely song.

And she was never the same again...

Somehow I accidentally became an Elvis fic writer. I love interaction, so all feedback, comments, accusations, insults and awkward conversation starters are welcome, wanted and devoured!

Elvis Fic Masterlist

One shots-

Cherry Delight

It is the hot, long summer of 1956 and Annie's best friend Margie has discovered a new singer that is not only handsome, but can sing, move, AND lives in their home town.

The Deal

Elvis has a wardrobe malfunction on set in Hawaii and discovers that the best action is not always happening in front of the camera.

Save Me

1976, Elvis is on his way to Palm Springs when he comes across a woman in need of rescuing.

The Gate Girl

Retired 'gate-girl' Chrissie is home on Spring Break and reluctantly brings her college roommate to the gates of Graceland to see what the fuss is about.

Stay the Same

Just before his induction into the army, Elvis reconnects with someone from his early touring days.

Afraid

In 1957, a girl and a boy meet at a fairground. They have their meet cute and there's a connection. It should have all flowed naturally from there. Except the boy is Elvis Presley and his life more resembles white water rapids.

Two parters-

Something Else

In February 1975, two bored and lonely people found each other wandering the halls of a hospital in the early hours of the morning.

Part 1

Part 2

Ongoing-

An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

Summer Festival

A young woman on vacation in Las Vegas in August 1970 unexpectedly becomes an Elvis fan and more.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Glimmers of Dawn

A regular night at a bar ends with Aurora and her best friend being invited to Graceland by a couple of his employees, as long as they stay quiet, and don't touch anything or do anything to wake up The Boss, who's been holed up in his bedroom for days.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[thesleeptokenarchive]

Remnant of the Past: Beautiful Oblivion Tour 2019

The Theatre of Living Arts, Philadelphia, PA, USA

December 8 2019

This stop on the tour is devoid of much video footage or photography, or if there is, it is untagged for this stop. Please see below a rare piece of media from this ritual.

[sleepanonymous]

Hi, I was wondering if you knew when Vessel started 'dancing' on stage? I'm pretty sure he started doing in in the late Sundowning-ish era/ TPWBYT era but I thought you'd probably be the best person to ask about finding videos from when he started dancing.

Oooh this is an interesting rabbit hole, thanks for asking Anon 🖤

So... I guess it depends on what you mean by dancing, because Vessel has always sort of moved on stage, you know? But what he did back then and what he's doing now is completely different. Like... maybe a better word for what he used to do is "writhing." The earliest video of a ritual I've seen of Sleep Token's was their third ritual in (what I'm assuming is) late 2017, and "writhing" is probably the best word for what Vessel was doing on stage (and I say that affectionately/respectfully).

TLDR; Conclusively I would say Vessel started dancing, as we see him dance on stage today, in the summer of 2022. He's always moved on stage, and even acted unhinged during Sleep Token's earlier rituals. Below the cut, I go through rituals on YouTube from 2018-2023 to try and pinpoint exactly when Vessel started dancing like we see currently in 2023. (I went through quite a few videos, most not even mentioned in this monster of a post, so I made a YouTube playlist here).

A great example of Vessel's early "writhing" dancing is this YouTube video of Nazareth from the 2018 Leeds Festival (he's also an absolute menace here!! He steps on III, he didn't paint his waist or his back, and he strangles and spits on the original OG IV. Like... the man had demons and I am here for them). The dancing that's most similar to current times starts around 2:37 and 3:40.

2019 is impossible to find good videos for lol, since they did most of their rituals for the Beautiful Oblivion tour as an opener and, apparently, nobody films openers. But there are some with decent audio quality from ArcTanGent (my favorite being The Offering). Interestingly, he's less animated, still writhing, but not a menace to the rest of the band while doing so. If anyone is even slightly photosensitive please don't watch these ArcTanGent videos, the lighting effects really didn't agree with the camera's shutter speed.

This is a video of Higher from December 2019. The sound is not as crisp, and the videographer is quite a bit further from the stage, but Vessel is still moving, especially towards the end. The breakdown starts around 2:15, and while III and OG IV are definitely more animated than Vessel, he's still dancing with them. He even jumps down to scream the end of the song at the barrier (and has a mini-wardrobe malfunction) at 2:39. That crowd was really feeling it and so was Vessel.

Because of the plague in 2020, all of Sleep Token's shows were in January. Vessel's behaviour was very similar to the video posted above (just with less crowd interaction). The first show they played in 2021 was the Download Pilot. This is the best audio quality of that show, and Vessel also moves/dances the most in this video, though it's toward the end around 2:31, where the videographer forgot they were filming and just started vibing, so it's really hard to see, lol. I don't blame them, but it's also shakycam to the max. (Also, a quick fun fact, this is the first show the band played with our current IV as far as I can tell.)

This is another video from 2021, but from Sleep Token's TPWBYT rituals tour. It's Hypnosis, and in the very beginning, we see some Floor Vessel, which is neat and reminiscent of the most recent NA rituals, before he does some of his usual writing, though quite a bit more animated. Around 4:06 you can see the writing again, but after 4:19 it morphs into what we've seen from more recent rituals. (Also, if anyone wants a full 70-minute video of this show, filmed from the center of the balcony looking down on the stage, you can watch it here. Some parts have major flashing, so just be careful).

Here's another video of Hypnosis, this time from September 2022. Here, finally, we see Vessel's current version of dancing, hops and arm flails included. It starts right when the song kicks in at 0:13, and he does it again at the end, around 4:29. Technically they did a UK tour with the Architects in May (see this video of The Offering at 3:50) and an Australian tour in June 2022 with Northlane (again, see this video of The Offering at 0:20, 1:37), with similar behaviour from Vessel, but that BRRF Hypnosis video is the first video I ever watched of Sleep Token live so it's very dear to me and it's also better sound quality than anything I could find from earlier in the year.

I went way overboard with answering this question, Anon, but it was super fun, so thank you again for asking 🖤🙏 Again, I made a playlist of all the videos + several others. If anyone has any recommendations for me to add to the playlist, send the links my way (especially if they aren't The Offering or Hypnosis lol) and I'll add them in chronological order.

[leezlelatch]

Music Box

You visit Terzo in the Veneration of the Relics. Terzo x F!Reader, angst, mentions of death, mourning, resurrection. Rated S for Sad. ~2200 words.

You have the music box made after hearing Cirice for the first time. It’s a simple square box, wooden and painted black. Anyone could mistake it for a jewelry box or random knick-knack you keep on your dresser. 

The twinkling tune has become so familiar to you, carrying comfort amongst its cogs and springs. Not so much a rumble that’s calling than a soft voice beckoning you forward. A yearning deep within your heart. 

When Papa Emeritus Terzo died, you put it away. Hid it between habits and clothes deep within a drawer, willing the little thing to disappear into oblivion, to merely stop existing. That gentle melody only serves as a reminder of the life that was halted too quickly before its crescendo. 

Three lives. 

The Veneration of the Relics makes little sense to you. What is a relic but an object? The former Papas on display as mere things to be ogled at when they were people. Powerful men that commanded the Ministry. Eloquent speakers and beautiful singers. Men with hopes and dreams and love for their congregation. A family gone in an instant and humiliated even now. You resent the line of people in the Ministry’s stained glass-lit halls as they wait to enter the chapel to see the new “exhibit” which will be featured at future Rituals as part of the VIP package. It makes you sick to your stomach.

When time draws closer for the Papas to be moved, carted off in trunks bearing their names, it seems like you are the only one left in the Ministry to have not visited the chapel. A gaggle of women and men are often seen crying over the body of the Third. A lone figure stands mournfully over the Second’s. There are flowers left on the top of the First’s glass casket which change every single day although no one sees the person responsible.

Your fellow Siblings of Sin find it to be quite odd, questioning why you won't pay your respects to at least the Third, but you wonder if it is paying respects or contributing to the spectacle? Is it so easy for them to look upon the corpse of a man who smiled and flirted and waltzed around these very halls less than a month ago?

On the night before the tour, you toss and turn in your bed, in the throes of a nightmare. Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, echoes of the past racing around your head. You hear his voice in your ear even now, you see Papa, you see Terzo, kneeling down on the stage, his hand held out to you, drawing you closer, closer, ever closer until you are lost in his gaze. No, no not lost, found. You are found. But he lets go, moving away, and although you call to him, he grows more distant, his image fading. Although you scream for him, he does not turn. Hands wrap around his elbows as he is forced to the ground, and Sister is there, Sister is laughing, and there is a blade, a terrible blade, and…

“NO!” You scream, bolting upright out of bed, your chest heaving. 

You clutch your chest as you shake with sobs, your face tilted toward the ceiling as tears stream down your cheeks, wails of immeasurable pain escaping your lips. 

“Terzo,” you whimper, gasping in a breath that breaks on another sob. “Terzo.” 

Ting!

You pause on a cry, your breath hitching as your eyes search your darkened room for the source of the noise. You slowly unfurl your hands from the death grip on your night dress, and let them lie uselessly in your lap as you stare hollowly at the shadows. Your eyes feel heavy, and you sniffle, allowing your puffy lids to close for a moment, your sorrow far too great to bear. 

And then you hear it again.

Your eyes snap open and find your dresser, the wooden piece imposing in the dark, and you stare with a furrowed brow, sure you recognized that faint, twinkling tune. Your legs slide off the bed and you push the sheets away as in a fog, the floor cold against your bare feet. You move, pushing your toes into the hardwood, trying to ground yourself, your head throbbing from your tears. Shaking fingers move to wrap delicately around the handles of the top drawer, a breath escaping you, ears peeled for that sound. Because surely it couldn’t be. Your mind, lost in a haze of grief, is beginning to crack.

You pull it open with a jerk, and yet nothing jumps out at you. Your various clothing items lie in unmade heaps within the deep drawer, and you laugh humorlessly. You lick your lips and blink down at the contents of the drawer, moonlight filtering through the window framing your silhouette. You push away shirts and underwear, digging, your fingers searching, turning to desperation when you cannot find it for a moment, when you’re sure it has been taken from you just as Terzo - 

And then you find it. Fingertips graze across the cool top of the music box, a gasping breath pushing through your throat as you wrap firmer fingers around it to pull it out. You bring it close to your chest, stepping back a little from the dresser, somehow feeling like a piece of you has finally returned home. Why did you hide me? It whispers. You keep stepping backward until the back of your knees hits the bed and you drop heavily onto the mattress, the smallest noise echoing from the box as you jostle it - just that hint of a note. Cirice. Church. Meliora. The pursuit of something better.

You slowly look up from the music box, your breath coming heavier as your eyes stare toward your door while your heart lies in the chapel. Standing, and uncaring of your current state of undress, your cold fingers wrap around your doorknob, and you step into the hall. Faces of Papas past, clergy members of old watch you from portraits while you walk down the many halls, illumination of reds, greens, and purples caressing your cheeks from the stained glass windows. If anyone were to see you at this moment, they would see someone incredibly determined. Someone who has made a decision, no matter how much it may hurt. The last person to visit the Veneration of the Relics. 

The chapel doors creek open, the noise loud in the quiet of the chapel. A hundred candles light the space, throwing frightening shadows on the wall which curl and beckon to you as you step across the threshold. The glass caskets put a chill through your heart as you see them there in a line before the altar under the watchful gaze of Lucifer Morningstar. One. Two. Three. 

The bells toll high above you, announcing the late hour, announcing your presence before the dead. You walk solemnly forward, the pews having been taken out to provide more space for the mourners, however you remain in the center, walking down the red carpeted aisle, your white nightgown brushing against your legs with every slow step. Your gaze rises to the stained glass which covers the entire back of the sacristy, Papa Emeritus Primo, Papa Emeritus Secondo, and Papa Emeritus Terzo gazing down at you as you approach their earthly bodies. 

Terzo’s casket is surrounded by flowers, wreaths, cards and favors. There are marks of lipstick, of kisses on the glass, and as you step up onto the dais, you cannot help the watery smile that pulls at your tear-stained face. For he was loved. Is loved. Although Papa found it so hard to believe it for himself. You swallow, a chill raising the hairs on the back of your neck as you peer beyond the glass into his resting face. He looks like he could be sleeping, your friend had said. And while his jaw is relaxed, his mouth slack, his eyes closed, you find his expression anything but peaceful. His paints are lined so carefully on his face, and yet your heart burns with the thought that his true identity is forever hidden behind the will of the Clergy. His eyelids look almost sealed together from the heaviness of the black paint, and your fingertips press against the glass so hard the pads turn white, desperately wishing you could wipe it all away. 

“Terzo,” your voice is lost in a crack, and you swallow heavily. You look around helplessly and laugh a little. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Your eyes focus on his hands, folded across his chest, the gold nails reflecting in the candlelight. You always wondered what his hands looked like, what they would feel like wrapped around your own. But that was the crux of it, right? You were never brave enough to approach him like the others did. Really, you didn’t feel like you had the right, or deserved to. He was…he is Papa Emeritus III. What right have you to the Devil’s chosen? 

Your eyes stray to the stone gaze of the Dark Lord, your heart full of doubt. Was this the Devil’s plan? Why allow…

You huff a small, mirthless laugh. 

Isn’t this the same argument you made with God?

Why? Why? Why?

Your eyes turn back to Terzo, unmoving in his eternal rest. 

“I don’t know you, Papa. I made up a story in my head that you were kind, and compassionate, that you cared for your congregation. That behind the mask was a man none of us have the privilege of truly knowing. That each time you flirted, or said something completely ridiculous, it was to hide who was really underneath. And despite the Ghost Project, despite the Papacy, despite the Clergy’s expectations, you wanted to be free. I made up all of that. Because that’s what I needed. I needed to take your hand…”

A tear slips down your cheek, falling onto the casket and sliding like a raindrop down the glass. You take in a shuddering breath, the hand not holding the music box squeezing into a fist. 

“I needed you to tell me that it was going to be okay. I needed you to tell me that I made the right decision. And now…”

You slam your fist onto the top of the glass.

“Now, I don’t know what to believe. Look at what they did to you! Look at what they did to your brothers. This is…this isn’t what I signed up for, this isn’t right! Terzo, this isn’t…”

Your shoulders shake as you cry your agony into the coolness of the chapel. The moonlight cuts through the stained glass and falls on Terzo’s quiet features. You blink through your tears and simply look at him for a while. You smile gently, clutching the music box to your chest for a moment before placing the little box on the top of the glass.

“I had this made after hearing Cirice for the first time. It brought me comfort. I…understand the whole manipulation aspect, believe me,” you laugh. “But…I would have followed you. I suppose I sound unwell. I just wish…I had the courage to thank you for making me feel like I belonged somewhere. For the first time in my life. I wish I could have saved you, Terzo. I’m so sorry for what they’ve done.”

You gently turn the key on the music box and the sweet tinkling of the music box plays over the man who inspired it. You press your forehead to the glass, closing your eyes tightly. 

“Please find peace, Papa. Please be somewhere good. Please be happy,” you whisper, a fervent prayer. 

Stepping back, you look at Papa Secondo and Papa Primo, a sad smile gracing your features.

“All of you.”

You leave the music box playing as you exit the chapel, taking the long walk back to your room to reflect. You remember the first time you came to the Ministry, how nervous you were to attend your first mass. The Papas had seemed so terribly imposing then, but you learned to look closer. Primo occasionally snoozed when he wasn’t giving a sermon. Sometimes you could catch the barest hint of a smile on Secondo’s face when he watched his younger brother preach. And Terzo, Terzo was always so loud and boisterous, arms in the air as if he were ready to draw the entire room into an embrace. His eyes would pass over the congregation, and sometimes, if you were lucky, fall on you. 

You re-enter your bedroom, and slowly slide under your sheets, just staring at the ceiling as you come to accept that those days in the sun were over. Whatever this new Ministry would be, you would face it, as you have with everything else, and hope…hope that you can feel that warmth again.

As your eyes grow heavy, and you allow yourself to fall into slumber, you hear it.

The music box.

Your eyes snap open and find the door to your room slightly ajar, and you realize you didn’t quite latch it when you returned. 

The music box gently plays, growing closer and closer to your door. You remain frozen on the bed, strangely not afraid. 

Strangely happy.

Perhaps those days aren’t over after all.

[yougetsu]

i've trying to collect my thoughts about bt season 2. i've read mean comments on twitter, mean comments towards the members or between fans. i don't know where to go to feel understood with this loss, i've been criticized for being too affected by it, as something i should let go. how can i let go something important to me? i've accepted most of it but never let go (???. do u think they'll release something next month? like the documentary? im scared i don't want them to forget him

I think we all have the same doubts and uncertainties. I try not to give it too much thought bc if I go there, I fall into a spiral of anxiety. I think I'll never completely get over the fact that I didn't see the Izora Tour live. Frankly speaking, these 10 months have been rough, processing that he's not longer here, that I won't be able to see him perform after 3 years planning this trip and saving money like crazy (I still feel like crap, frustrated and sad bc it was one of my biggest dreams), that we'll no longer have news, interviews, photos, live reports, etc etc. Most of us were used to that, even if we learn something small each day, knowing that he was around was such a joy. Now what comforts me a bit is that we were so lucky to live at the same time/planet/dimension as Atsushi.

Naturally, I think I'll keep grieving during a long period time but also I don't wanna feel bad about it bc at the end, he's one of the people I have admired the most in my life. If he is important to you, live the whole thing. Cry, laugh, write about it, share it here. Being passionate about music and people who had inspired you to be better is beautiful. I do believe when someone touches your soul deeply whether it is family, friends, artists, they'll remain in you always.

On Sept 21st probably something new will come out, new music, new single, we don't know. Regarding the movie, Imai mentioned (in the last FT bulletin) that he wrote the lyrics for Hide's song for the movie but not more details as far as I remember. I really hope they don't make it sink into oblivion.

In a previous post I said I have mixed feelings, I can't pretend everything is fine, maybe the fog in my brain will clear a bit during September. I'm fully aware that it will shake me internally (again as the bt genshou and as the last interviews did) bc it's a big change. I'd like B-T to find a balance between their past and present, specially in their new performances, paying tribute to Acchan to celebrate his legacy and also witnessing their new songs.

Be patient and take care of yourself <3

[thisaintascenereviews]

Since I Lost Issues: RIP Topic One Of Metalcore’s Most Ambitious Bands

Georgia-based metalcore band Issues released their debut EP in 2012, Black Diamonds, but their self-titled album came out in 2014. Issues, which is also the band that came out of the split from metalcore band Woe Is Me after vocalists Tyler Carter and Michael Bohn left after their debut album in 2010, I believe, is a band that I struggled to get into for a long time. I felt as though that while their sound was ambitious, they leaned too far into the metalcore tropes of the time, and not enough into the pop and R&B sounds that Carter was really into. That all changed with 2016’s Headspace, where the band went into forays of pop, R&B, funk, nu-metal, and alt-metal, along with metalcore. That record still toyed with the tropes of metalcore, but it was 2019’s Beautiful Oblivion that did it for me. That record took every sound and influence and melded it altogether into a single cohesive record, and they really were on the cusp of becoming the future of the genre.

That was before the band kicked out vocalist Tyler Carter for some heinous accusations, and before I go any further, I don’t want to make this piece sound like I’m upset they broke up, or that I don’t understand why, considering what I just said, and the pandemic coming right afterwards put a halt into a lot of bands’ plans, as they had to retool everything from recording new music to touring. I did want to write this, though, because they put out one more song, at least before they put on a few farewell shows this year to celebrate and commemorate their time as a band.

Issues is a band that took time for me to get heavily into, but when it clicked, it really clicked for me. I love metalcore, although my relationship with the genre has been complicated over the years, and I also really love pop and R&B music, so it’s cool that Issues broke those walls down and combined the two styles, as well as eventually adding funk and alt-metal to the mix. Nowadays, bands are happy to experiment and throw in non-metal influences to their sound, albeit some better than others, but the boundaries are blurred within the genre now. Issues are a reason for that, I think, but you have other bands that paved the way for that, too, such as Bring Me The Horizon shedding most of their metalcore influences to have a pop meets alt-metal meets metalcore sound.

I just listened to Beautiful Oblivion while working on this piece, because I wanted to see if the album’s held up over the last four and a half years since it came out, even with the stain of Tyler Carter and I have to say that it honestly does. I don’t feel as bad for listening to them now, because of two things — they’re breaking up, so the band is disappearing for good, and part of what makes that record (as well as the whole band) work so well isn’t just Carter. Instrumentally, these guys are too notch. It takes a good rhythm section and backing musicians to make a record truly great, not just the vocalist, and while Carter is still a top tier vocalist within the genre (unfortunately), he isn’t the most important part of the band, especially for a band as unique and ambitious as they were. Beautiful Oblivion, and their new song that they just dropped to coincide with their farewell shows, entitled “Since I Lost You,” is a reminder that begs the question “what if?” If Carter never got kicked out, and/or the pandemic didn’t happen, this band probably could have been a lot bigger than they ultimately ended up being. What will their legacy end up being now, though?

Time will tell, as with all things, but I think it’ll be a good one. Carter being fired is a stain in that legacy, but not to the chagrin of the others, and the fact they broke up afterwards is good, as they didn’t try with another vocalist that most likely would have paled in comparison, and as far as breakup records go, Beautiful Oblivion is a great one. It’s a genre-bending masterclass on how to make metalcore with many different influences, and how you can love metal and other genres at the same time, ultimately not putting yourself into a box, whether that’s in terms of being a musician or being a fan. If I wasn’t already into pop and R&B music when this band hit the scene, at least to a small degree, I would have probably wanted to sink my teeth into those genres more, thanks to this band, and I wonder how many other people were influenced by them to do that. Their legacy may be a little complicated at the moment, because of everything that happened about four years ago, but these guys had a good run. RIP to Issues. You’ll be missed.

With Issues’ breakup, there are other bands that carrying the torch for them. Their brand of “R&Bcore” influenced a lot of other bands, even if it’s indirectly, as a lot of metalcore bands are moving into a pop-friendly sound. Bad Omens, Beartooth, Sleep Token, Wage War, Of Mice & Men, Bring Me The Horizon (they’re another band that’s been slowly making more pop-friendly stuff, too), and many others are giving metalcore a new sound. A lot of newer bands are continuing this sound, too, such as Sleep Theory, Archetypes Collide, and Wind Walkers, and while they’re relatively safe and generic, they’re still catchy and fun, just what the genre asks for. Issues will never been forgotten; their place in metalcore and heavier music is secure. The vocalist of the band The Home Team, a pop-punk band that mixes alt-metal and R&B into their sound, is filling in for the band as their vocalist on their farewell shows, and it’s a good fit because Brian Butcher has one of the best voices in the genre and is finally starting to blow up a bit. Issues will always be a band that people remember, and their time was good, but instead of remembering what happened to them and why they broke up, let’s remember what made them so memorable in the first place, because unlike a lot of metalcore bands, Issues was great for every member, not just their vocalist.

[black-arcana]

EPICA's Next Album Will Be Band's 'Most Epic' Release So Far

In a recent interview with Spain's Mariskal Rock, EPICA singer Simone Simons spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for the follow-up to 2021's "Omega" album. She said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "I think that there should be a single by the end of the summer-ish. That's that's our plan. And the album should be released [in] 2025.

"I just wrote with Mark [Jansen, guitar] and Rob [Van Der Loo, bass] also yesterday that I'm so happy with the songs, I'm so proud how everything turned out and it's gonna be another amazing EPICA album.

"We added a couple of new elements, but also went back to the roots, the old EPICA," she continued. "And yeah, I just can't wait for people to hear this.

"I loved 'Omega' and we toured so much with 'Omega' and had wonderful experiences, but then when you reach the end of a touring cycle, you start to get itchy and feel, 'Okay, now it's time to do the new album. Can we do it as good or maybe even better than the last album?' That's always the thing we strive for, ways to renew ourselves a little bit. And we feel a very strong spiritual connection also that it's our ninth album. So there's gonna be themes around the symbolic meaning of nine, the number nine."

Elaborating on the musical direction of EPICA's next album, Simone said: "The songs are heavy. There's a beautiful ballad, a very cinematic song, very uptempo, very doomy, melancholic and amazing, amazing power riffs. It's the most epic EPICA, I think, so far. Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm feeling it. I'm very happy with it. I'm proud of it. And they are going to start recording the orchestra now next week. They're flying to Prague; that's where we record the orchestra. And I will be recording my final vocals as well."

In November 2022, EPICA released "The Alchemy Project" through Atomic Fire Records. The EP was co-written and performed with diverse guests ranging from extremists like FLESHGOD APOCALYPSE, Niilo Sevänen (INSOMNIUM) and Björn "Speed" Strid (SOILWORK) along with melodic masters like Tommy Karevik (KAMELOT),keyboard legend Phil Lanzon (URIAH HEEP) and Roel Van Helden (POWERWOLF) to a once-in-a-lifetime song with Simons, Charlotte Wessels and Myrkur.

Just one day after the release of its anniversary reissues "We Still Take You With Us" and "Live At Paradiso", EPICA celebrated 20 years of existence live in September 2022 at 013 in Tilburg, Netherlands, the same place where they played their first show (supporting ANATHEMA) back in 2002.

EPICA was formed by Jansen after leaving AFTER FOREVER in 2002, and the band quickly gained attention outside their home country, taking big steps towards becoming the leading symphonic metal superpower they have long proven to be. After their ambitious debut "The Phantom Agony" (2002) and the surprisingly eclectic sophomore work "Consign To Oblivion" (2005),the road took them to new heights via their first concept masterpiece "The Divine Conspiracy" (2007) and their global breakthrough "Design Your Universe" (2009). 2012's opus "Requiem For The Indifferent", 2014's bedazzling "The Quantum Enigma" and "The Holographic Principle" (2016),cemented their reputation as not only one of the hardest-working metal bands in the business but also as one of the best. With "Omega", the final part of the metaphysical trilogy they began with "The Quantum Enigma", they reclaimed the throne without so much as the blink of an eye, amassing three million-plus streams during the first week of the album's release.

Photo credit: Tim Tronckoe