#distracted by synth beats

[sprnklersplashes]

once again being reminded of how weird being a taylor swift fan on this website is because the people who claim to hate her just clearly do not listen to her. I saw someone say "does taylor swift even know she's been turned into a brand and stripped of her humanity? is she aware of the fact she lives in a gilded cage where she can't be imperfect?" like my sibling in christ that's what her past two albums have been about about. what exactly did you guys think anti-hero was?

[cybrsan]

Light It Up! — K.HJ, P.SH

STORY SUMMARY: The year is 2077, and the world is a lawless dystopia where tech giants and major corporations hold all the power. Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa are an infamous criminal duo who have made names for themselves fighting against the "techno brainwashing" of society. Discovering they're on the brink of getting caught, they decide to go out with a bang—and who better to help them than their favorite plaything?

PAIRING: Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader x Park Seonghwa

RATING/GENRE: M ; smut ; criminal / cyberpunk / dystopian AU

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Arson, breaking and entering, clubbing, alcohol + drug use, pet names (doll, precious), rioting, violence

NSFW WARNINGS: Choking, creampie, cum stuffing, cunnilingis, deep throating, exhibitionism, fire play, fingering, free use, hair-pulling, knife play (light), multiple orgasms, play party, public sex, spitroasting, sub drop, threesome, overstimulation

A/N: Don't blame me, blame the MATZ m/v.

LINKS: Masterlist, cross-posted on AO3.

“And… there!” 

After days of meticulous planning, organizing, and making shady, back-alley deals, it’s finally done. The last camera is in position—everything is ready for the big event. All that’s left for you to do is step back and admire your work.  

Switching on your illegally procured holodeck, you press a few buttons and watch as the space around you completely transforms. What was once an abandoned warehouse is now a club that could rival any in the city center. Neon lights pulse to heavy synth, serving bots whiz from place to place,  and the makeshift bar looks inviting enough with rows of expensive bottles on display. Whether or not the liquor in the bottles is worth the price, well… Hopefully people will be too distracted to notice. 

The focal point, the one thing you are most proud of, is the transparent stage that extends at least 15 feet above the dance floor. Taking in the grandeur of it all is more than enough to get you excited for what's to come. You're certain that Hongjoong and Seonghwa will put on the performance of the century. 

Today is incredibly important for both of them, and the fact that they have trusted you enough to include you more than makes up for the long hours and strenuous work. They’re currently out setting up their "grand finale," which they have been painstakingly cryptic about. You have your suspicions, not that you need or even want to know the specifics. 

A low whistle pierces the air. "You really outdid yourself this time, doll." 

You turn to look at Seonghwa as he enters, and your heart practically skips a beat when you take in his appearance—he must have changed in preparation for the big event. His hair, pulled away from his face, lets you focus on his features; dark eyes, full lips, all beautifully accented by his smoky makeup. His outfit is one you haven't seen on him before, but it suits him perfectly, from the gold chains hanging around his neck to the deep cut of his silk shirt.  

"Thanks, Hwa," you reply bashfully, dusting off your hands on your jeans. "Just trying to do my part." 

He approaches you, a smirk tugging at his lips. The way he stares at you, drinks you in… it makes you feel like a prey animal who has found itself in the sights of a predator. You blush and cast your gaze to the floor, suddenly fascinated by the specks of dirt at your feet. 

"And you have done it spectacularly." He lifts your chin with his pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I think you deserve a reward." 

Seonghwa drops his gaze to your lips for just a moment before he leans in, closing the space between you with an almost agonizing slowness. The kiss is gentle and commanding all at once and you shiver, immediately pulling him closer. The fatigue, the stress—all of it melts away.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling on it with just enough force to make you gasp. His tongue slides expertly against yours, the taste of him something sweet and darkly rich, like cherry liquor. It’s addictive. But the moment ends too soon for your liking, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Seonghwa doesn’t pull away entirely, resting his forehead against yours as he lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. He lets his touch linger as he traces a path down your neck, lithe fingers playing with the necklace dangling above your chest. Three dainty, silver hearts. One for you, one for Seonghwa, and one for—

The rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the air, and your head snaps toward the sound just in time to see Hongjoong park his bike at the door. He takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair which you’re surprised to see is freshly dyed. It almost makes you laugh; of course even as he’s out running errands for his coup de grâce, he finds time for fashion.

“Not starting the party without me, I hope?”

Hongjoong’s heeled boots click pleasantly atop the concrete flooring as he walks over to the two of you. His synthetic fur coat is a bright orange, the complete opposite of what one might expect a criminal on the run to wear. But both he and Seonghwa have never been ones for hiding.

“Never,” Seonghwa replies, clapping a hand on the back of the younger’s neck. “Did you get it done?”

Hongjoong scoffs in a teasing manner. “Did you doubt I would?”

“Of course not.” Seonghwa squeezes Hongjoong’s neck once before letting go and clapping his hands together. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”

A few hours later, the party is in full swing. The once-empty warehouse is now filled to the brim with people dressed in cloaks and masks for the sake of anonymity. Some are on the dance floor, grinding against each other, while others have drifted toward the bar, downing shots and laughing.

Toward the back of the room, there's a group huddled around a table, huffing glitter, black lace, and who knows what other kinds of drugs. Meanwhile, others are tangled together on couches, lost in the throes of ecstasy. The air is so thick with the smell of smoke and sweat that it almost makes you dizzy.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, pulling you against a warm body, and you gasp. “That’ll be us later, precious,” Hongjoong whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear. Your nervousness ebbs away, immediately replaced by eagerness.  “Do you like watching them? Or maybe you’d prefer to be the one being watched?”

You lean back against him, the hand around your neck a welcome pressure. “Both,” you breathe.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “Good.” 

He separates from you, and you turn to face him. He seems so confident, so excited, that it’s hard to believe he and Seonghwa are about to paint targets on both of their backs. Hit by a wave of anxiety, you lean forward and kiss him. He immediately reciprocates, nipping at your bottom lip and eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

Kissing him is always different than kissing Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s kisses are controlled, with a hidden power brewing behind them. There’s always a promise of more, a hint at what is to come when he finally lets go. On the other hand, Hongjoong kisses with reckless abandon. He is uninhibited, always ready to devour you whole. When he pulls back, a string of spit hangs between you before snapping.

“You nervous?” You nod, and he gently tweaks your chin between two fingers. “Don’t be. Those tech bastards have no idea what we have in store.”

“I just want the two of you to be safe.”

“And we will be,” he assures you. "After everything goes up in flames. Trust me, precious. Trust us.”

“I do.” And it’s true. You trust them with everything that you have.

“That’s our girl.” He kisses you again. “It’s time to go live.”

You take out your holodeck, and with the click of a button, all the cameras you set up switch on. You hurriedly switch channels through all the local stations, thrilled to see that it worked and the entire club is being streamed live to every device in the city. 

You stop the music and make the lights go out, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. You shine one beam of light directly onto the stage and you watch as Seonghwa steps out to address the throng of people below. He is captivating and has no problem commanding all of the power in the room. 

“Welcome one and all,” Seonghwa begins, voice booming over the speakers. “If you’re here, it means you are brave enough to fight against the corporations that enslave our society!”  

Hongjoong steps up next to him, and while he’s smaller in stature, he exudes no less power. However, he stays silent as Seonghwa continues, “We will not be silenced any longer. Tonight, we raise our voices in defiance; we will no longer bow down to those who seek to control us!” 

The crowd explodes into thunderous applause but immediately falls silent when Hongjoong raises a hand. "But tonight isn’t just about the revolution—it is also a celebration of our freedom, our individuality, and our unity. So let loose because everyone in the city is watching and we all know that, deep down, they wish they were us!” 

Cheers and shouts fill the room once again as everyone raises their glasses in solidarity. Your heart swells with pride as you take it all in. You have become a part of something far greater than yourself and, just like your boys, you are willing to do whatever it takes to see it through to victory.

You switch the music and lights back on and the party resumes in full force. People seem to go even harder than they were before, playing up their hedonism for the cameras. Seonghwa and Hongjoong have disappeared into the crowd, likely to mingle and spread their message one-on-one. 

Seonghwa favors the dance floor, hypnotizing those around him as he moves. A contented smile tugs at the corner of his lips as his hips sway to the beat, as beautiful as he is provocative. He flits from person to person, holding them close as he whispers into their ears. He occasionally catches you watching him, always making sure to tease you with a wink. 

On the other hand, Hongjoong stalks the perimeter of the room, moving from group to group. His skill lies in charming people with his words, and tonight is no different. Everyone who speaks to him smiles and laughs, completely enamored with everything he says. He shakes hands, claps shoulders, and you have no doubt that if people weren’t loyal before, they will be when he’s through.

You stick to one of the quieter corners of the room in order to keep an eye on the cameras. You need to make sure that everything is running smoothly both in and out of the club; the last thing you need is for someone to reveal your location or try to hack into your network and ruin everything. You also keep a close eye on your boys, making sure they stay safe.

It’s past midnight by the time they come and find you. Hongjoong sits on your left, placing a hand on your thigh as he leans toward you and kisses your cheek. His lips linger a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he purrs, “You should be out there, dancing, having fun.”

“I am having fun,” you say, taking the champagne glass offered to you by Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sits on your right, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “You would be having even more fun if you put down the holodeck.” 

“But—”

Hongjoong takes it from you, throwing it haphazardly onto the cushion beside him. “Don’t argue.” 

He leans forward again, this time lightly nibbling your earlobe with his teeth. You gasp, knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on your glass out of instinct. Seonghwa watches the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his hand trailing down your side and slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to trace patterns over your flushed skin.

“It’s a night for celebration, doll,” he murmurs. “You have done your job. The only thing we need from you now is… well, you.” He squeezes your hip and you jump slightly. “The badges will be here in a little over an hour according to one of my sources. While not as long as I’d like, it gives us just enough time to have a celebration of our own.”  

Your thighs clench in anticipation—you know exactly what he’s hinting at. 

"Lead the way, then," you say, setting your half-empty glass down.

Seonghwa’s gaze meets Hongjoong’s over your head, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They stand up and pull you toward the dance floor, surrounding you, one at your front and one at your back. You sway between them to a slow, seductive rhythm, closing your eyes as you let yourself enjoy their attention.

Seonghwa’s hands rest on your waist, pulling you against him as he starts to move his hips in tandem with yours, grinding against you. Meanwhile, Hongjoong cups your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip. His eyes are dark and intense as he captures your mouth with his own in a searing kiss. 

Seonghwa’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he watches Hongjoong devour you. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other snakes around to cup the back of Hongjoong’s neck, causing the younger to moan into your mouth at the touch. Now with a possessive grip on you both, Seonghwa gets to work nipping and marking the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

The room seems to disappear around you as they continue to explore you, their mouths and hands feeling like they are everywhere at once. It's intoxicating, even more so than the champagne you were drinking earlier. You feel Seonghwa’s hand trail even lower, disappearing under your waistline, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin.

You gasp and Hongjoong laughs against you, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Let’s give them a good show, hm?” 

You let the two of them drag you onto the stage, cheeks ablaze as you realize exactly what they’re planning. You’re hyper aware of the fact that you are being watched; even though most of the club-goers are lost in their own pleasure, the viewers that are steaming have nothing better to do than keep their eyes locked on you. 

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Look at our girl, acting so shy.” His fingers find your heart necklace, tugging at it just hard enough to make you gasp. “As if wearing this doesn’t mean we can do whatever we want to you, whenever and wherever we want.” 

Hongjoong takes a switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open with a maniacal grin on his face. He uses it to cut away your clothes, exposing your body for everyone to see. Your knees shake and whether it is out of anxiety or anticipation, you can��t tell. 

He traces the tip of it against your skin, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. “We know you love it, precious,” he says. “Don’t you want everyone to see how good we make you feel? Think of all the viewers out there that will feel oh-so-scandalized but still won’t be able to look away. Not to mention all the greedy whores who will be getting themselves off to us, wishing they were in our places.” 

Seonghwa pulls you against him just like he did on the dance floor, once again letting his fingers tease his way down your stomach. But this time, he lets them travel even lower, dipping into your folds. 

“Look how wet you are just from this,” he remarks, bringing his fingers back up and spreading them so you can see the evidence of your own desire. He then extends them to Hongjoong who greedily laps at them, sucking them clean. 

You whine, trying to keep your legs closed from embarrassment, knowing anyone below the stage can look right up at you and see exactly how aroused you are. But Seonghwa won’t let you, shoving his knee between your thighs. Almost instinctively, you grind down on it, letting another pathetic sound slip past your lips. 

Hongjoong’s eyes glint with wicked delight at your reaction, his own hands reaching out to cup your breasts. “Someone’s eager,” he teases, tweaking a nipple between two fingers.

You hear a few wolf whistles from the crowd, a few lewd comments being thrown your way, but they only make you more excited. 

“I…” You’re panting heavily, making it hard for you to speak. You have to take a deep breath before trying again. “I want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, doll,” Seonghwa coos, returning his attention to your core. He pushes in one finger all the way to his knuckle with no warning and, if it weren’t for his hold on you, your legs would have buckled. 

“Fuck.” The curse slips from your lips, half whimper, half moan, as he continues pumping his finger inside your wet heat. 

Hongjoong lowers his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he pinches and tugs at the other. You grip his shoulders for purchase as your head lolls back to rest on Seonghwa’s chest, whining at the onslaught of sensation. The feeling of Seonghwa inside of you while Hongjoong lavishes his attention on your breasts is unlike anything you have ever felt. 

As Seonghwa adds another finger, Hongjoong’s lips mark a path from your breasts, to your stomach, and then lower as he sinks to his knees in front of you. He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your skin, just as his tongue finds your clit. His tongue draws figure eights around it as Seonghwa continues to pump his fingers relentlessly inside of you. 

“T-too much…” you gasp. But neither of them slow down—if anything, feeling how close you are makes them double down on their efforts. Hongjoong sucks your clit into his mouth at the same time Seonghwa adds a third finger, curling them inside of you. 

Seonghwa kisses the back of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. 

That small bit of praise is all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge, eyes rolling back as your body goes taut with pleasure. Hongjoong eagerly laps up your release, only prolonging your orgasm. Seonghwa gently removes his fingers from you and you hear rather than see when he brings them to his mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. 

Hongjoong pulls back, licking his lips to clean them of your release before his trademark smirk returns. “I think it’s time for you to return the favor, precious. Don’t you think, Hwa?” 

Seonghwa trails a hand down your spine, humming. “I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“I can,” you gasp, eager to please them just as they did you. “I can, I promise. Anything you want.” 

You almost jump from surprise as some spectators in the crowd start yelling their vulgar suggestions as to how exactly they think you should please your partners. You’re sure if you looked at your holodeck, the live chat would be filled with similar comments as well. 

Hongjoong laughs, grabbing your face in his hand. “Don’t worry about them. You can have us however you like.” 

Blushing, you say, “You choose.” 

His eyes light up and he immediately looks behind you to Seonghwa. Just like earlier, some sort of silent communication passes between them, and then you feel Seonghwa’s hand on the small of your back, urging you to bend over. 

“Why don’t you show our Joong what that pretty mouth of yours can do while I fill you up, hm?”

You barely have enough time to nod your agreement before Hongjoong is unbuckling his belt and freeing himself of his constraints. You nearly salivate at the sight of his cock, red and wanting. He grabs your hair and pulls, tugging you forward as much as he can with Seonghwa’s bruising grip on your waist keeping you in place. Tears prick at your eyes but it’s as pleasurable as it is painful, and you take him into your mouth eagerly.

The head of Seonghwa’s cock teases your folds before he finally pushes forward into you. He starts moving at a slow, torturous pace, pulling out of you before slamming right back in. Each thrust propels you forward, forcing you to take Hongjoong deeper into your mouth. You feel so full, so used. It’s incredible.

“Look at her,” Hongjoong coos, staring down at you. “Look at how well she takes us.” 

Seonghwa just groans, grinding into you so deeply that you have to choke back a moan around Hongjoong’s cock. He’s gotten quieter, his thrusts sloppier, a telltale sign that he is losing himself in his own pleasure. Meanwhile, Hongjoong’s grip tightens around your hair, guiding your head back and forth on his length. Each thrust cuts off your air supply, making you see stars.    

Seonghwa’s hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. You moan again, and Hongjoong echoes you as the vibrations travel up his cock. 

“Shit,” he curses. “So fucking good.” 

Seonghwa’s thrusts grow increasingly erratic and you hear his breath hitch; instinctively, you clench around him, and he spills into you. His release sends you spiraling into your second orgasm of the night, walls fluttering around him as you milk his cock of every drop. 

Hongjoong pulls out of your mouth not long after, squeezing the base of his shaft to prevent himself from following the two of you over the edge. The second Seonghwa steps away from you, he is taking his place, forcing himself inside of you before any of the elder’s cum can drip out. 

“Hongjoong,” you gasp, nearly falling forward from the force of his thrusts. Seonghwa maneuvers himself so that he can support you, holding you in his arms as Hongjoong pounds into you with bruising force. 

“Gonna fill you just like Hwa did,” he growls. “Make you mine. Ours. You’re ours.” 

“Can’t… can’t…” Words escape you, your mind going blank. 

“Yes, you can,” Seonghwa says, stroking your hair. “You can take it. You can come for us one more time.”

His voice is comforting, but you also hear the command in his tone. You choke out a sob, nodding weakly as Hongjoong guides your hips back against him again and again. You can feel another orgasm coming on already, the coil tightening in your stomach. Seonghwa continues to murmur words of praise, stopping only to pepper kisses along your heated skin. 

The coil snaps and you cry out as you come undone, Hongjoong’s cock still buried deep inside of you. His hips stutter and he curses, his warm release mixing with Seonghwa’s. He slowly pulls out and you can feel as some of their cum trickle down your thighs. You collapse against Seonghwa completely, no longer able to stand on your own two legs. 

You feel light-headed and blood pounds in your ears, muffling the cheers you assume are coming from the crowd. You’re too far gone to be embarrassed, and a lazy smile tugs at your lips—the three of you surely gave them the show of a lifetime. 

Suddenly, you feel heat lick at your skin, and you snap back into yourself fully, cringing away from it. Your eyes focus, and you see Hongjoong flicking a lighter open and closed, open and closed.  

“There’s our girl,” he remarks. He brings the lighter to your skin again, just close enough for you to feel the heat of it without it burning you. “I think we were a bit rough with you, precious. You were totally out of it, shivering and everything.” 

Seonghwa is behind you again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You press further against him, squirming as the heat tickles your skin. 

“Back with us?” Seonghwa asks.

You nod. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” 

“Okay. Hongjoong—enough.” 

Hongjoong stops immediately, flipping the lighter closed with a tsk. “Fine. It’s gonna get hotter in a minute anyway.”

Now that you’re focused, you finally hear the shouting and crashing coming from below. The very people who were just watching you on stage are now rioting, destroying the warehouse and everything in it. The cameras, the bar, all of your hard work—now there is just destruction, everywhere you look. 

You shoot up, hurriedly dressing yourself so that you are no longer the only one naked as panic begins to take hold. “What’s going on? Seonghwa, Hongjoong, we need to—”

You waver on your feet, nearly tripping. Luckily, Seonghwa catches you. “Calm down, it’s okay,” he says, hushing you. “This is all part of the plan.”

Hongjoong gestures to the crowd, pointing out some things you missed. “See how some of them are drenching the place with gasoline? We’re gonna light it up.” 

Maybe you’re still delirious from your multiple orgasms, but you are having trouble understanding what the two of them mean. “Why? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“This was all a distraction,” Seonghwa explains. “The club, the livestream, us putting on a show. We did it so that all eyes would be on us, and all the badges would be wasting their resources trying to find our location.” 

You nod slowly as the pieces begin to come together. “So, while I was setting all of this up…”

“We were out there. Planting bombs at some of the biggest tech headquarters in the city.” Hongjoong smiles, spreading his arms wide. “Our coup de grâce, just like we’ve been saying.” 

Despite all of your suspicions, this is something you never would have been able to guess. Before you can even begin to truly comprehend the magnitude of what they’ve done, sirens pierce the air. Everyone screams and begins to run out of the warehouse. Seonghwa grabs your hand, and nods to Hongjoong. “Now!” 

Hongjoong throws his lighter to the ground below and flames erupt instantly, devouring everything in sight. Luckily, most of the crowd has already escaped, and you feel confident no one should get caught in the aftermath. Still, it’s pandemonium, and smoke fills your lungs as Seonghwa pulls you closer, shielding you with his body as he hurries toward the nearest exit. 

Hongjoong follows after you, but lags behind as he keeps looking over his shoulder at the fire with a sadistic grin on his face. “That’s how we do it,” he yells, voice barely audible over the blaze.

“Get yourself together,” Seonghwa barks. “We need to get out of here before the cops realize what’s going on and find us.” 

Suddenly, Hongjoong trips, his foot catching on some loose debris. Seonghwa reacts instantly, yanking him back to his feet and throwing an arm around his waist. The three of you continue onward as the heat of the fire licks at your back. You crash through one of the exit doors, and stumble away into the night, disappearing into the sea of masked faces. 

All across the nation, devices light up with the same headline: “City in Chaos as Blazing Inferno Distracts from Large-Scale Bombing of Tech Giants.”

“Nation-wide manhunt underway. Suspects Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa believed to be connected to an underground criminal group called The Black Pirates…” 

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie @nebulousbrainsoup @ad0rechuu @sanniesbunnie @seonghwaddict @fruitcakebin @kickti @abby-grace @fireseo @yunhofingers @ohflorah @oiminho @baekbao @byuntrash101 @hyukssunflower @thatnerdytomboy @straykidsholicleigh

[kand1-lynx]

My Spidersona, Pepper Perez a.k.a Spider-Kitty

Pepper Perez is an Asian-American who lives alone with her cat, Nappy. Both of her parents have died due to old age while she was studying in college that led her to drop out and work a mundane job. She makes music on the side as it is her passion, but her career never takes off. Her life becomes unfulfilling and repetitive - also due to the lack of guidance from her parents or anyone, and it does not help that her only friend is Gerry Stacy - not until her cat playfully bit her a little too hard.

(P.S. hopefully Spider-Kitty isn't taken yet... if it is, she could totally Spider-Meow or Spider-Puss LMAO)

See my headcanons, her abilities, and my soundtrack ideas under the cut! (CW: death of a pet)

Headcanons:

Nappy lost his spidey powers after biting Pepper.

Pepper makes Nappy her sidekick. Despite being a lazy cat, she trained him to scout and distract enemies (e.g. he gets pet for being too cute and fluffy).

She prefers stealth, taking down criminals in the cleanest and most efficient way possible (which is why she always brings a stopwatch and tries to beat her own records of how fast she can finish the job).

Her precision and efficiency in fighting leads to Miguel O'Hara recruiting her into Spider Society.

When first joining the Spider Society, she has no clue how to work with other spideys, leading to a few failed missions.

She would definitely jam with Spider Gwen.

She would not jam with Hobie, saying that all his songs are composed of the same three chords.

Kraven is the one who ends Nappy's life.

Miguel O'Hara would gift Pepper an AI hologram version of Nappy to help her be with her cat again and to continue her duties as Spider-Kitty.

Abilities: She gained the DNA of the radioactive spider and her cat after she was playing with Nappy. Her abilities include:

Superhuman flexibility - She can crawl through the tightest spaces. If her head fits in it, her entire body will fit in as well.

Natural night vision

Retractable claws

Fastest reflexes

Enhanced spatial awareness

Soundtrack ideas:

I still can't think of the main theme for her though. If anyone can suggest a song with DnB, melodic synths, autotuned high-pitched vocals, and maybe a sprinkle of screaming, that'd be cool.

She's def a work in progress and I'm having a lot of fun developing her :3

[hrefna-the-raven]

Bona Fides

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Summary: a few drabbles about Deacon and his desperate attempt to hide his growing love for the sole survivor (reader)

Warnings: none for this one, just a friendly banter :)

Notes: I went a bit off canon for this one as I never understood why the Railroad didn't take parts of Covenant as their new base^^

Part 1

You've been aiding the Railroad non-stop, going from one mission to another in order to save as many Synths as possible. Deacon greatly admired your empathetic nature, which has led to a fast and close bond between the two of you. After getting rid of the Synth hunting inhabitants of Covenant, you helped the Railroad establish a new headquarters in doctor Patricia's underground facility nearby, while you and some settlers occupied the well-protected houses within Covenant's walls.

In the back of the old prison cell room, Deacon sat alongside Tinker Tom, offering his assistance in assembling a new gadget,  or, more precisely, he read one of his pre-war books while listening to Tom's enthusiastic rambles about the device he was currently tinkering with. Deacon's excitement soared when he heard footsteps approaching the entrance, he'd take anything to distract him from the tasks at hand hell even a deathclaw crashing through that door would beat the boredom. Moments later, you walked in, and you and Desdemona briefly discussed the mission while you handed her some of the holotapes you found. Deacon couldn't contain his joy at the sight of you and eagerly rushed over, enveloping you in a tight hug, planning on not letting you go away again. It had only been a few days but the lack of your presence left its marks on him.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up! I've missed you, Charms!", Deacon exclaimed with a broad smile, releasing you after a moment.

"Hey Deacs! How ya doin'?" you chuckled, trying to hide the slight blush that crept onto your cheeks from the closeness of the embrace.

The man laughed at the nickname, brushing his fingers through extensively styled black hair before crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby table with a satisfied grin on his face.He found it quite endearing, the way the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly as soon as your eyes locked on his, the pinkish hue on your cheeks whenever he touched you, whether hands brushing against each other by accident or in a hug like before. All this made him feel giddy, a sweet tingling within his stomach, quickly spreading through the rest of his body until he felt light as a feather.

"I'm doing great as ever; been working on this new device with Tinker Tom for some time now. We made some great progress today. It's definitely going to help us with a few missions."

"You don't even know what this thing is besides you were just reading while I did all the work!", Tom exclaimed, looking up and giving Deacon a playful glare. 

Desdemona chuckled and went back to analysing to the holotapes, hoping to find something useful that would finally allow them to take on the Institute.

"Everyone's gotta do what they're best at," the spy shrugged, turning to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to lead you away from the other members, "now it's your turn. What went down while you were out?  Heard there was quite a stir up out there."

"Oh, you know, same old, same old! Taking out raiders, petting molerats...", you shrugged nonchalantly.

"You really need to stay away from those things", Deacon  rolled his eyes with a smile, "I get that they're somewhat cute but damn."

"Well, perhaps I require the company of someone more experienced and more in tune to this time and world to accompany me, so as to prevent me from making any further mistakes," you playfully challenged him, a grin spreading across your face.

"Are you really suggesting that I accompany you on your next mission? I mean, I could... if you'd want me to. So you got yourself a deal.",  he responded, unable to hide the hint of excitement in his voice.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. Since the moment you first met, disregarding the fact that he had been spying on you from exiting the vault for the first time up to your arrival at the Church, there hadn't been a single moment when you didn't want him by your side. He had become your guiding light in this crumbling, forsaken world you didn't seem to belong in, and he grew more and more on you with every passing moment. Trying to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks as thoughts of how much you missed the charming spy consumed your mind, you rummaged through your backpack and triumphantly pulled out a full bottle of whiskey that you had found in an abandoned house along the way.

"Look what I've stumbled upon!", you proudly announced, "would you care to join me as I open this and finally get some well-deserved rest tonight?"

Deacon's eyes sparked with excitement as he laid eyes on the bottle, swiftly snatching it from your grasp with a mischievous grin.

"Ooooh Charms! Why didn't you show me this earlier? Let's head back to Covenant, to my room, I got a set of the comfiest chairs and  and I know just the thing to mix with this to make it even more delicious, trust me on this one. One of my favourite pre-war recipies and  I absolutely need your expert opinion on my mixing skills." 

"Firstly, I never said it was yours to take. I merely invited you to share a drink with me. And secondly, you won't want my opinion on adding a simple Nuka-Cola to this fine liquor," you huffed, attempting to snatch the bottle back from his clutches.

Deacon maintained a tight grip on the bottle, his smirk widening as he reveled in the playful banter exchanged between the two of you.

"Oh, I know that. But that's not the point here. I just don't want anyone swooping in and swiping it from me, I mean us of course. And let's be clear, I wasn't just asking either," he chuckled softly, dramatically raising the bottle in the air. "I claimed your invitation and accepted it. So, according to the unwritten law of the Commonwealth, this is now mine."

You rolled your eyes in feint annoyance and playfully slapped his shoulder before starting to walk towards the exit.

"According to my very own unspoken rule, if you don't follow me, you won't have the pleasure of my company. I'm going to get some much-needed rest now, whether you join me or not."

Deacon burst into laughter at your remark, a broad grin forming on his face as he walked after you, his steps matching yours as his eyes constantly darted between your figure and the path ahead. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest every time he looked at you like that. There was something different about his laughter today, a raw honest hint of truthfulness that rarely simmered through his carefully constructed facade. Although it felt like you were blessed to witness it more frequently lately as if it only ever appeared within the closeness that connected both of you.

Little did you know that Deacon had been hiding a secret, one that weighed heavily on his mind with each passing day. One more secret among the many that shaped his true self and yet this one would be harder to keep, unable to prevent it from dripping slowly though the cracks of the person he created to shield himself from the world. It was, or more like, it wasn't simply friendship that bloomed within him, it held a deeper meaning. Dangerously, love had taken root in his heart yet again, despite his experience with Barbara, and it grew stronger with each moment spent by your side. He longed to tell you, show you somehow, but the fear of rejection and the pain of a broken heart held him back. After all, he was a fraud, a man with a false identity, a hidden past, flaunting proudly his ability to shroud himself in a mysterious mist of lies. How could he possibly reveal his true feelings without jeopardising the friendship you had? Insert something Shakespearean involving death and your inevitable doom here, he thought to himself. Love and happiness was not for the likes of him.

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

[splattergai]

could we get a headmate based on these emojis?

🎵 🎶 🎧 🎤

Emojis (🎵 🎶 🎧 🎤) Headmate Pack!

[ PT: Emojis (eighth note emoji, music notes emoji, headphone emoji, microphone emoji) Headmate Pack! /end PT ]

Note: Headmate may not form exactly as described. Anything can be changed to fit your system.

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto Left Photo by Adrian Korte on Unsplash Middle Picrew by @/SODAPVNK_ on twitter Right Photo by Mink Mingle on Unsplash

Name (+ Sign-Off): Lyre, Synth, Radio (📻🎶)

System: musiorma, musicnaut

Species: Human

Age: 26 (bodily), lofichronal

Pronouns: he/she/they, beat/beats, mell/mello, mix/mixes

Gender: genderfaer, kenochoric, nightmusgender, cosycafeic

Attraction: Harmonic attraction, omni salvaen

Likes: Music, string instruments, synth instruments, singing, karaoke, concerts, open mic nights, rain, puddles, thunderstorms, nighttime

Dislikes: Complete silence, major distractions, strict instructions, having to wake up early

Description: Fairly social, works well with others and is willing to always try to come to a compromise when there's a disagreement between herself and others. Will act as a mediator between other headmates at times. Keeps a pair of headphones/earphones with mell at all times so that he can listen to music in the background while they do things. Enjoys taking walks in the rain.

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Seven '7ven' Blackwood McKinney

Voice Claim: (Jacob Elordi) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2r7wV5C9sg&ab_channel=WMagazine

Partner(s): None. Parents: Adrian Blackwood & Raven McKinney. Kids: Technically he has a bunch, but the only ones he really relates to is Sky & Imogen. Age: Immortal, but translates to mid-late 20's Birthday: 7th of January. Height: 185cm (6ft) Body type: Skinny, but with some muscle tone.     Eye color: Light blue-gray, with a tiny bit of brown around the iris. Classification: (Immortal) Demon. Known powers: Possession, shape shifting, Invisibility, healing by touch. Non-Corporeal Form/Ghostly form (being able to appear as a ghost) Evasion (The user can’t be tracked down, all the traces of their passing disappear or are ignored: fallen hair, blood, skin particles, etc. will dissipate into dust and no scent is given off, unless he wishes to. Telepaths find it extremely hard to find the Evader’s brainwaves.) Telepathy (The power to mentally receive and/or transmit information.)

About: ~ Melancholic, Restless, Brooding, Lazy, Sarcastic, Emotional, Irresponsible, Anti-Social, Distracted, Imaginative, Observant, Reflective, Fearless, Honest, Reckless, Strange, Clumsy, Stubborn, Disorganized, And Mischievous. ~ Has big hands for his body ~ Sexuality Omnisexual (Attracted equally to all human beings (men, women, transexuals, etc.) … A person who can be sexually attracted to anyone and anything, from men/women/everything in … and also non-human animals and inanimate objects) ~ Has thick black hair ~ Has a few black tattoos on various body parts, also two fairly hidden. ~ Half Irish. ~ Has a bit of a British accent. ~ Can Shapeshift to a black fox. ~ Very Anti-Social, doesn't like meeting new people. ~ Does a lot of drugs. ~ Parties a lot. ~ People often call him grumpy, but he really isn't, he's just often stuck in his own world, and quite brooding. ~ Smells like Opium. ~ Dislikes modern pop music. ~ Terrible cook. ~ Likes to hang out with two of his sisters, the rest of his rather large sibling flock he barely stays in contact with. ~ Has an okay relationship to both his parents on the other hand. ~ Doesn't talk much. ~ Loves to stay at home, listening to loud music, not talking to anyone for days. ~ Sleeps a lot. ~ Plays a lot of video games, suck at it. ~ Has a scar on his lip, he got beaten up when he was a very young kid, by some bully, who lived to regret it. ~ Has several piercings in his ears. ~ Very much a rebel. Doesn’t like authorities. ~ Feels everything quite intense. ~ Loves night time, the moon, drugs, pancakes, black eyeshadow, kittens, being left alone, fluffy pillows, sleeping, pizza, minty food, strawberry marshmallows, cold mornings, Synth wave, fog and rain. ~ Always wears some sort of baggy clothes. ~ Really hard to read. Seven's tag Seven's house/home Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One song to describe him: Labyrinth - Still Don't Know My name

Personal play list: 1. Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit 2. Cream - White Room 3. Thompson Twins - Hold Me Now 4. The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band - Suppose They Give A War And No One Comes 5. Bronski Beat - Small Town Boy 6. MGMT - Little Dark Age 7. The Cure - Just Like Heaven 8. David Bowie - Ashes To Ashes 9. The Doors - End Of The Night 10. Tame Impala - New Person Same Old Mistakes 11. Pixies - Where Is My Mind 12. Kavinsky - Nightcall 13. Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart 14. The Cure - A Forest 15. Duran Duran - Save A Prayer

[siberian-xanadu]

ALRIGHT IT'S 2112 TIME!!!!

Now, obviously, the title track is split into seven segments, and I will be sort of... treating each segment as their own song for the sake of my Rushathon live-blogging. 1a. "2112- Overture"- HOLY GOD I MEAN. From the opening ghostly synths, to the just powerhouse of drumming, to the faint haunting of an "ooooh" in the beginning, this is a proper overture that hints at everything to come. Not to mention, it quotes the 1812 overture during the ending, and has that Bible quote "And the meek shall inherit the earth" which, when viewed with the full song and the ending, sort of hints that the protagonist's cause does win out eventually. 1b. "2112- Temples of Syrinx" - Opens with that epic riff, and sets up the antagonists of the story, which takes places under a theocracy that worships technology, with the Priests and their "great computers filling their hallowed halls". There seemed to be quite a lot of talk about technology around this time, and I wrote up a comparison last year between this epic and ELP's "Karn Evil 9" and the dangers of AI technology (that's on my essay account). Both epics feature a struggle between man and machine, which I find very interesting. 1c. "2112- Discovery"- Starts with gentle guitar playing and water flowing in the background. In the liner notes, it says the protagonist (never named) discovers a guitar in a cave, after the personal creation of music has been outlawed by the Priests of Syrinx. This is about discovering the joy that creating and writing your own music can bring you--- and how music can inspire protest and individual thought. A young musician can relate to it on a personal level--- the discovery of their instrument, and learning to master it, and it also has parallels to real-life theocracies, where sometimes all secular music is banned. There's also a bit of naïveté here, where the protagonist thinks they can take on an entire system alone. 1d. "2112- Presentation"- I just. LOVVVEEEE this part. I love how Geddy jumps the octave between the character of the protagonists, and the priests, who are practically shrieking at this person. They're giving the protagonist the excuse that him playing his guitar doesn't fit whatever has been calculated for them by the computer, and smashes the guitar. I do wonder if Geddy was inspired a little by Peter Gabriel's voices in Genesis, like when he's playing different characters in "Get Em Out By Friday", for example. 1e. "2112- The Oracle"- This is where the protagonist inadvertently contacts the "Elder Race of Man" --- ngl I got a little distracted singing it instead of writing for this part LOL. 1f. "2112- Soliloquy" - This is my favorite part of the entire song. The pain in the protagonists' voice when he jumps the octave makes me shiver. It's a heartbreaking end to the protagonist, but so so well done.

1g. "2112- Grand Finale"- HELL YEAH HERE WE GOOOO!!! I love the ambiguous ending to 2112, where one doesn't know if the Temples of Syrinx were overthrown following a rebellion, or whether they were the ones to "assume control" once more, or if they did succeed, if they were replaced by something just as bad. It's just so open-ended, and I think one's interpretation of it says a lot about them as a person. ALSO!!! "Attention all planets of the solar federations" - said 3x is 21 words "We have assumed control" - said 3x is 12 words, so the ending also spells out 2112!!! 2. "A Passage to Bangkok"- Now, following one of the most famous prog epics of all time is... a song about smoking weed around the world. It sort of reminds me of how, immediately after the epic that is "Tarkus", ELP launches right into "Jeremy Bender", which is another humorous sort of song. I guess it's sort of a palate cleanser, in a way. The interesting thing about APTB is the bong hit right before the solo, and the way that the drums actually lag behind the guitarist and the bass, by adding an extra beat I believe, adding to a sort of psychedelic feel that is never the same. My only criticism of this song is the sort of orientalist motif that recurs a few times, which is a bit of a stereotype. 3. "The Twilight Zone"- This was the song that started the tradition of Rush recording a last-minute song on their records, and is, of course, an homage to the television of the same name, describing the plot lines to several episodes. Funnily enough, the prior album, Caress of Steel, is also dedicated to Rod Serling. I also love the overdubbed whispering in the choruses after the first one--- that's always made me laugh. 4. "Lessons"- The lyrics to this song are written by Alex, and would be his last lyrical contribution until the final contribution by Geddy and Alex on Signals, "Chemistry". I do love the guitar on this song, and I think I like it a little more than Geddy's lyrical contribution to the album, "Tears". To me, it feels like a callback to some of their earlier songs, with a little more sophistication and experience. 5. "Tears"- I'm a little torn over this song, admittedly. On one hand, I think it's beautiful and touching, and on the other, sometimes I feel it's a little melodramatic. I'm never sure if it's coming from a place of sincerity or not. Right now, I think it is, but when I was younger and perhaps a touch more cynical, I thought it was almost sarcastic, and making fun of people who wrote songs like this in order to get laid. Either way, it is a gorgeous song, and I think there's a synth in the background as well (sounds like a mellotron, but I don't think they had access to a mellotron). It does credit Hugh Syme with keyboards on this track, so perhaps that does include a mellotron. 6. "Something for Nothing"- This is my favorite non-2112 song on this album, and might be one of my favorite Rush songs period. I had the lyrics to the bridge tucked in the back of my phone case for a while, and it always motivates me to go and do something. Because things can't get better if you don't work for it--- which doesn't even mean on a personal basis. If we want the world to be a better place, people need to fight for it. I know that Neil was heavily influenced by Rand at that time, but you can look at this from a leftist lens of criticizing Rapture culture--- that someone will come along and save the world and make everything better.

Okay, I'm not entirely sure if I want to do AFWTK/Hemispheres next, so I think I'll wait until Moving Pictures to write again.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 10, Number 7

Obsessed with Congo Funk in this month's dust

Without getting too deep into American electoral politics, let’s just say that we’ve been distracted lately.  We’ve been mired in the slough of despair, frantic in our bargaining with god and lately, a feeling fresh breeze of optimism—it’s been so long, we hardly recognized it.  But despite all that, the records keep coming, and we do our best to deal with them, not always with a fulsome 300-400 word review, but sometimes briefly, as here, in another edition of Dust.  This month, we cover the run of it, from fictional characters that somehow participate in bands, to guitarists on synth holiday to vintage Swedish death metal reissued and more.  Participants this time out include Jennifer Kelly, Byron Hayes, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Christian Carey, Andrew Forell, Roz Milner and Ian Mathers. 

Apifera — Keep the Outside Open (Stones Throw)

Four Israeli jazzmen take a jaunt through psychedelic rock and prog, incorporating trippy vocals and squalling synth runs into a space-age fusion.  The musicians— Nitai Hershkovits on keyboards, the beatmaker (and evident link to Stones Throw) Yuvi Havkin, drummer Amir Bresler and guitarist Yonatan Albalak—have spent their careers crossing jazz with funk, hip hop and rock.   Here they push it even further with vocal tracks that hardly sound like jazz at all.  Trippy “Iris Is Neil,” for instance, delivers the title phrase in a keening vocal chant, as explosions of percussion go off like firecrackers on a string.  Squiggles of synth, arcs of electric guitar reach for the epic, but in a manner more like Yes or ELP than Return to Forever.  “Lucky Zoe” delves further into psychedelic pop, its wavery keyboards framing fanciful whimsies a la “Lucy in the Sky.”  “Theodor Marmalade” thumps a funky beat behind flourishes of keys and vocal narratives about desert fauna.  “Don’t you want to see the floating lights?” the cut inquires, and yes, I can just about make out strange, glowing objects in the sky. The instrumental pieces have a more conventionally jazzy feel; “I Love ECM” makes it case with light-fingered syncopations on rims and cymbals, liquid loops of bass and ice-chilled runs of electric keyboard.  “Sera Sam,” at the end, brings on the trumpeter Avishai Cohen for a lyrical turn.   

Jennifer Kelly

Majesty Crush — Butterflies Don’t Go Away

(Numero Group)

Butterflies Don't Go Away by Majesty Crush

A double LP or digital download from Detroit’s own Majesty Crush, the motor city’s answer to the sounds coming out on 4AD. With dreamy vocals by David Stroughter about being an obsessive fan or about bad relationships and a rhythm section kicking up a swirl of noise around him, Majesty Crush brings to mind about a dozen English bands without feeling particularly in debt to any specific group. Occasionally the guitar makes a really cool, almost crunchy sound, but mostly the music moves in the fog, blanketing the vocals in layers of distortion. They lack the fey lyricism of the Cocteau Twins or the dreamy harmonies of Lush but guitarist Michel Segal holds his own against Kevin Shields’s sheets of sound. Meanwhile, they invoke David Hinckley on “No. 1 Fan,” wake up with a bottle and a cigar in hand on “Brand” and dip into ambient spaces on three small interludes. The first half is made of their lone album Love 15, while sides three and four contain an early EP and singles, putting pretty much their entire catalog into one handy set. These Detroit guys seem unjustly forgotten, but thankfully Numero’s made their music easy to find.

Roz Milner

Dennis Callaci & Heimito Künst — First Light (Pass Without Trace)

Heimito Künst is one of many characters in Chilean novelist Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives, a tangled multi-narrative epic. The enigmatic Italian musician who produced the sounds underpinning First Light has adopted Heimito Künst as his pseudonym, likely in reference to the knotty soundscapes he builds from organs, synths and field recordings. On paper, Dennis Callaci’s lyrics and vocals seem like an odd pairing for Künst’s oblique audio collages. Callaci is half of the long-running lo-fi pop project Refrigerator and has helmed the Shrimper label for over three decades. His signature mid-range nasal utterances, more spoken than sung, populate the extraterrestrial ecosystems of Künst like strange seedlings peeping up from beneath loamy soil. First Light serves as a bridge between the mysterious and the familiar, another worthy entry in Callaci’s discography and a port of entry into an unknown artist’s body of work. 

Bryon Hayes

Buck Curran — The Long Distance (Eiderdown/Obsolete)

Buck Curran is a guitar devotee. He’s a fluent player, a custodian of historic instruments, a chronicler of esteemed players and a compiler of albums that pay tribute to others. But sometimes a guy just needs a change of pace; enter The Long Distance. Mostly competed in a single night, it’s Curran’s holiday from the guitar. Instead, he plays analog synthesizer, layering sweeping tones and helicopter-rotor cadences into something rather like a lost Tangerine Dream album. Curran explains in the album notes that each piece is connected to a memory of a person or place, which may explain the melodies’ intimations of yearning and melancholy. But if you’re not Curran, they might evoke other associations; this music could easily be repurposed for film soundtracks.

Bill Meyer

Rhodri Davies — Telyn Wrachïod (Amgen)

Back in the mid-20th century, kids motorized their bikes with clothes pins and playing cards. The customization might not have yielded much additional propulsion, but the sound was cool. It turns out that they were simply following in the footsteps of 16th century Welsh harpists, who attached brays (slips of wood) to their strings to get a loud, buzzing sound. Rhodri Davies has explored the harp’s options in all manner of settings — Fluxus happenings, minimalist compositions, rock bands, free improv ensembles, the list goes on. Recently he’s commissioned speculative recreations of instruments from centuries ago, which he then uses to play the sort of short, wheels-within-wheels pieces that he formerly played with instruments amplified to a Konono No. 1-level of distortion.  On Telyn Wrachïod he turns to the bray harp, which sounds rather like a cross between a banjo and a sitar. Each of its 12 tracks is spiky but so engrossing that you might find yourself hitting repeat a few times before you move on to the next one.

Bill Meyer

Desultory — Darkness Falls (The Early Years) (Darkness Shall Rise)

The repackaging and re-release of underground metal’s extensive archive of hyper-obscure demos and records continues apace. Darkness Falls (The Early Years) collects three demos from Swedish death metal outfit Desultory, originally independently issued on cassettes between 1990 and 1992. The record’s principal interest is its documentation of the sonic flexibility that informed the term “death metal” in the early 1990s; there’s just as much lightning thrash in these songs as there is moldering morbidity, especially the four engaging tracks on the band’s first demo, From Beyond (1990). The title track is especially pleasurable, in its sprinting, bludgeoning fashion — and this reviewer notes the added benefit of the title’s reference to an excellent H. P. Lovecraft story (is that you, Cthulhu?). Swedeath completists take heed. For the rest of us, it’s a fun release, and of some historical interest. Its relative necessity is open to debate — but hey, we didn’t really need that reissue version of Pig Destroyer’s Painter of Dead Girls on “black ice with metallic silver glitter” vinyl, either. Maybe Darkness Shall Rise should get some points for only releasing four different product versions of Darkness Falls….

Jonathan Shaw

Devouring the Guilt — Not To Want To Say (Kettle Hole)

Devouring The Guilt is a Chicago-associated (meaning two members live there and one moved away but remains connected) improvising trio. The line-up is pretty classic — Gerrit Hatcher on tenor sax, Eli Namay on bass, Bill Harris on drums. And so are the trio’s roots. Hatcher summons a burly tone, steers mostly clear of extended techniques, and gives occasional nods to free jazz heroes like Archie Shepp, Frank Wright and Frank Lowe. These familiar parameters establish a framework to display their collective originality, which lies in the personal vernacular they’ve fashioned. Namay is an alternately pithy and seething presence, plucking spare, structure-defining figures or bowing a maelstrom of woody sound. Harris pushes back against expectations that the drums should push the music forward by punctuating his clearly articulated attack with lots of negative space. Hatcher situates lyricism in long, understated tones and vigorously masticated phases, but also navigates unpredictably through the tight corners and sudden gaps that the other two set up.

Bill Meyer

Carol Genetti / Peter Maunu — Gleaners (Amalgam)

No matter how you approach it, Gleaners will stretch your mind. Just what are Carol Genetti (voice, electronics) and Peter Maunu (guitar, violin, mandolin) gleaning? Not other people’s music, that’s for sure. Maybe the languages of long-extinct species, confidences exchanged between dusty appliances that come to life after the staff leaves the thrift shop, ideas about what instruments might sound like if you see them in pictures. Even when Maunu resorts to rock-ish fuzztones or Genetti exhales an unspooling coo, their co-creations are resolutely sui generis.  Their partnership has been honed through years of regular performance, often with other Chicago-based musicians, which likely explains the brisk confidence that this resolutely abstract music exudes. Genetti is a ceramic artist as well as a musician, and the physical manifestation of this album comes in two forms. She made ten one-of-a-kind clay cases that you can mount on a wall; the regular CDs come in a folio adorned with close-ups of the art edition.

Bill Meyer

Dave Douglas — GIFTS (Greenleaf Music)

GIFTS by Dave Douglas

With sizzling guitar lines and a frontline horn duo of Douglas and James Brandon Lewis, you’d think it would be easy for this to be a mere blowing session. But it’s not. The music is frequently introspective and has a very ECM kind of ambience: it has this wide-angle sonic clarity where each instrument has room to breathe and let their notes slowly linger. The suite of Strayhorn songs in the middle doesn’t feel tired, either. Rafiq Bhatia’s chugging guitar keeps “Take the A Train” moving while Douglas and Lewis move in sync for the theme. When they stretch out, they’re sometimes playing against each other but always seem like they’re on the same page. Meanwhile Bhatia’s playing draws on Bill Frisell, making up for the lack of a low end with well-placed chords and sonic textures. These four make the music their own and it’s one of the year's most rewarding jazz records. 

Roz Milner

Samara Lubelski & Marcia Bassett — Indexical/Rhizome (Relative Pitch)

Samara Lubelski and Marcia Bassett are both well-established members of the U.S. scene that engendered the moniker “new weird America” back in the early aughts. Both have CVs that stretch on for miles. Lubelski is best known as a star in the MV&EE solar system, while Bassett churns out murkier sound pools in a variety of projects, such as Double Leopards and Hototogisu. The pair have a long-standing partnership unfurling phosphorescent drone webs through guitar and violin. This is their eighth recording, and it presents two extended string seances that coax electric spirit whisps from unseen worlds. “Indexical” is the lengthier of the pair and features zoned out but controlled guitar howl from Bassett alongside Lubelski’s rapid bowing. The undulations intertwine to become a radiant lattice of sound. Alien timbres infect “Rhizome,” which sways between a noise-drone wall of sound and hushed electronic whispers. Both are live recordings, showing off the raw magic that this pair of string sirens can conjure.

Bryon Hayes

Joe McPhee With Ken Vandermark — Musings Of A Bahamian Son (Corbett Vs. Dempsey)

Joe McPhee’s been toting folders full of poems and brief musings to gigs for years, but in recent years they’ve assumed an increasingly prominent place in his performances. Now, he’s finally put 28 of them on record, punctuated with nine short soprano sax/clarinet interludes that he improvised with Ken Vandermark. Oppression gets defied, history acknowledged, but most of all, love gets its due. McPhee muses about folks from the neighborhood, jazz heroes that inspired him, old friends now gone, and the balm and galvanization imparted by music itself. Abstract but tender, the interludes amplify this sentiment, showing by example how much appreciation for life and fellowship can be invested in a few tones.

Bill Meyer

Kate Nash — 9 Sad Symphonies (Kill Rock Stars)

On 9 Sad Symphonies, Kate Nash leans into her musical theater background, with skillfully crafted arrangements that incorporate classical orchestrations reminiscent of the film musicals from the 1930s-1950s.  As on most of her albums, she tweaks her sound and musical partners, here working with producer Frederik Thaae. There is a sauciness to her lyrics, which even go so far as describing lunch breaks in toilets. All is not a lark. Nash seeks to exorcize personal demons on “Vampyre” and “My Bile '' is a bracing assessment of a broken relationship. 9 Sad Symphonies may have a bucolic surface, but the singer-songwriter ventures down dark pathways where stars of the Silver Screen would have likely feared to go.

Christian Carey

Occulta Veritas — Irreducible Fear of the Sublime (I, Voidhanger)

Occulta Veritas plays an avant-garde variety of black metal, long on complexity and idiosyncratic compositional sensibilities. It’s abrasive and disorienting, and not especially fun to listen to — which yes, that’s the point, but there’s a huge amount of this sort of thing circulating through the metal underground at any given point, and deliberately distancing music from listeners’ parameters for pleasure can be a tough prospect in that oversaturated context. For this reviewer, the record’s engagement with the theoretical concepts of Jacques Lacan (big-deal psychoanalyst, post-structural Daddy and important player in France’s academic politics of the mid-20th century) helps Irreducible Fear of the Sublime stand out. It’s pretty great that one of the songs is called “Metonimia,” since Lacan’s projection of metonymy along a diachronic axis of spatio-temporal relations fits the music’s tortured snarls and chaotic, off-kilter arrangements. The utterances want to go somewhere, but the structures those utterances are trapped in make meaningful progress a near impossibility. It would be even better to have a lyric sheet, to get more than just the tantalizing engagements with Lacan provided in song titles (“The Mirror Stage,” “Bound to Incompleteness” and so on). There’s an overheated quality to the record that’s additionally compelling: This is your brain; this is your brain on Lacan. But it would be useful to know what specific ideas accompany specific sounds and turns in the music’s syntax. Or is it all just sound and fury, signifying nothing?

Jonathan Shaw

J. Pavone String Ensemble

Reverse Bloom by Jessica Pavone

The current edition of Jessia Pavone’s String Ensemble is reduced to essentials. There are just three players including Pavone, who plays viola, Aimée Niemann on violin, and Abby Swidler switching between those two instruments. The language is likewise paired down on Reverse Bloom. The first two pieces (of four) emphasize long tones that hiss and sigh at a deliberate pace, evoking an uneasy state. “Obstructed Current” pushes against the prevailing vibe with jolting, energetic phrases that move joltingly out of synch. The closing piece, “Embers Slumber,” likewise explores contrasting elements, which resolve by settling into a deliberate, belly-breathing rhythm. The album charts a course towards a grounded state that’s not so much a happy ending as a sonic enactment of the honest word that gets you through.

Bill Meyer

Keith Rowe / Gerard Lebik — Dry Mountain (Inexhaustible Editions)

Dry Mountain by Keith Rowe / Gerard Lebik

Despite having his name on the spine, Keith Rowe did not play on this record. However, he did originate the process of sound (re)imagining that it presents, and his cover image of a wiggling digit raises the question — how deep does a fingerprint go? The score of Dry Mountain originated from the imprint Rowe’s gear left on a sheet of paper. Rowe and Gerard Lebik interpreted that score and then handed a recording of their performance to three visual artists, who created their own scores based on what they heard. These scores were then played by the group of electronics, string, and percussion players heard on this album while listeners drew responses to the music, which they then handed to the musicians, who played them on the spot. The further you get from the first piece heard, the further the music gets from Rowe’s sound world; in a reversal of Alvin Lucier’s I Am Sitting In A Room, the music gets segmented and defined.

Bill Meyer

D. Sablu — No True Silence  (Yes We Cannibal)

No True Silence by D.SABLU

D. Sablu is a New Orleans punk lifer, late of Casual Burns and Feverish, but forced (or inspired or motivated) by COVID to strike out on his own.  No True Silence is Sablu’s first full-length, and it’s a killer, a slaughterhouse frenzy of punk /garage/ hardcore and a little metal, all chopped up with chainsaws and spraying all over the walls.  Indeed, you’ll have to stand well back from the player when you first put the record on, because it leads with “Bomber Stomp,” a two-minute assault of lumbering, heavy punk that sways noticeably as it comes down on the ones and twos.  Sablu lets off a howl near the end that raises the hairs on my neck, because it’s so sulfurous and tortured.  “69 Forever” lights a new wave hook on fire with a blowtorch; it’s catchy as hell but blows you back with sheer volume and aggression.  The brief “World Peace” is pure, adrenalized chaos, drums galloping wildly, guitars flaring, bass buzzing and Sablu screaming “World pee-eeea-eace!” like a banshee.  Fun stuff.  Turn it up.

Jennifer Kelly

Mark Sims — Take Me Faster (Carousel Horse Records, Old 3-C Label Group, Anyway)

Take Me Faster by Mark Sims

Deindustrialization has hollowed out the Midwest’s economy, leaving shuttered factories and empty main streets all across the central American states.  Mark Sims, a bricklayer when he’s not performing, sings with the soft, wry melancholy of a man left behind by tectonic shifts, finding solace in well-turned melodies and plain-spoken turns of phrase.  It was fashionable half a decade ago to interview Ohioans in diners about their economic circumstances; Take Me Faster provides the same sort of snapshot of dislocation and disappearing opportunity.

For instance, in “Hold On To Me,” the narrator is driving long-distance to a job somewhere, trying to find a song on the radio and thinking about home.   “Money comes and goes so quickly/I could work a million hours/and still be broke when I die,” Sims confides, against a radiant lattice of picking. The song is unassuming, and kind of perfect, a distillation of the struggle to stay connected and human in a low-wage high-uncertainty economy.

The songs are simply arranged, a mesh of Sims’ dusky, resonant voice and acoustic guitar, mostly, with a little synth in the background for texture.  And yet, this is more than enough, as on the haunting “I’m Always by Your Side,” where Sims’  voice lifts up through the sadness, fluttering soulfully in the upper registers before drifting back to earth.  These songs don’t pull any tricks or do any somersaults, but they’re satisfying all the same. 

Jennifer Kelly

Jason Stein / Marilyn Crispell / Damon Smith / Adam Shead — Spi-raling Horn (Balance Point Acoustics/Irritable Mystic)

spi-raling horn by Jason Stein, Marilyn Crispell, Damon Smith, Adam Shead

The trio of Shead, Stein, and Smith first convened with the former two’s duo shared a bill with Smith. They recognized in each other a common aesthetic intent, a shared wish to improvise within a particular set of parameters; there’s no predetermined material, but a collective intention not to be confined to jazz. They’ve all listened closely to the great 20th century European free improvisers, and part of what they’ve taken from them is an intent to fashion their own language. There’s no soloing here, although occasionally someone will drop out if that’s what the music requires. And when they invite a fourth musician into the action, they participate as an equal contributor, not a featured guest. Marilyn Crispell’s associations with musicians as disparate as Barry Guy, Anthony Braxton and Joe Lovano reveal her to be an artist similarly concerned with fluent exchange, not ego-boosting display. But she’s also a stern bringer of velocity and complexity on this recording, which is the studio half of a single brief encounter which took place in Chicago in the middle of 2023. Dense assertion, abrasive texture, and bursting co-existence cohere into a seven-part sequence of collaborative invention.

Bill Meyer

SUSS — Birds & Beasts (Northern Spy)

Birds & Beasts by SUSS

Gorgeous hovering tones of pedal steel, guitar (with e bow), keyboards and synths coalesce in these cuts, each a glowing, vibrating meditation on the beauty and fragility of the natural world.  SUSS, from New York City, explores many of the same haunted textures as Chuck Johnson and Pan*American, letting sustained notes linger in shimmering layers of slow-moving sound.  “Overstory” encases picked acoustic notes in a translucent amber of pedal steel arcs and violin, letting the sound grow as slowly—and as enormously—as old growth forest.  “Flight” follows a more pronounced rhythm than other cuts, its steady pulse of strumming beating like wings on a long trip south.  The disc is not all sunshine, however.  “Prey” lurks in ominous buzzes and hums of feedback, building threat into dark-toned dissonance and animal screeches into wails of guitar.  The long closer, “Migration,” pulls taut with anticipation, its beat like a metronome, its melody unfurling in the wheeze of harmonica and the shifting twang of pedal steel.  SUSS often gets tagged as cosmic country, but which country?  Unearthly, luminous and beautiful. 

Jennifer Kelly

Their Divine Nerve — Return of the Lamb (Staalplaat)

The Return of the Lamb by Their Divine Nerve

Dmytro Fedorenko and Jeff Surak have been collaborating for about 20 years now, but this first album as Their Divine Nerve appears to be the first time the self-described “Ukrainian-American noise duo” have collaborated on record at length. But right from the churning, thumping 14+ minute opener “The Infinity Book” here it’s clear that their long association has led to a certain sympatico comfort with each other. Whether on the more overtly aggressive shredding (not guitar riffs, actual shredding) of “Glowing Skulls” or the more pensive, droning likes of “Dignityphobia,” here the pair have arranged a rich, expansive (71 minutes on CD, plus about another half hour in bonus material on digital) feast for anyone looking to add some variety to their noise diet. By the time the CD thunders and shudders to a half with “Civilization Was Never Civilized” the listener may not know anything more about the titular lamb, but it’s clear its return is momentous indeed.

Ian Mathers

Various Artists — Congo Funk: Sound Madness From The Shores Of The Mighty Congo River (Kinshasa/Brazzaville 1969-1982) (Analog Africa)

Congo Funk! - Sound Madness From The Shores Of The Mighty Congo River (Kinshasa/Brazzaville 1969-1982) (Analog Africa No. 38) by Analog Africa

Mobutu Sese Seko was a murderous tyrant, but he changed African music forever when he invited James Brown to play Zaire 74,  the three-day musical festival put on alongside George Forman and Muhammed Ali’s epic Rumble in the Jungle.  American funk transformed an already vibrant musical scene like a chemical catalyst setting off an explosion of electrified, psychedelic soul in Kinshasa and Brazzaville.  Congo Funk! collects 14 incendiary cuts from the 1970s and 1980s — culling from an original haul of over 2000 sounds — not a dud in the bunch and more than a couple of revelations.  M.B.T’s eponymous “M.B.T.’s Sound” is one of the best on this two-disc set, all brassy swagger and intricate polyrhythmic percussion, as is Orchestre National du Congo’s full-throated celebration “Ah Congo!” with its wild call and response, feral sax play and unhinged drumming.  Lolo et L'Orchestre O.K. Jazz’s “Lolo Soulfire,” sets up a Stax-like groove and lives in it, slouching and swaggering like Booker T in a fever.  Fire.

Jennifer Kelly

Ricki Weidenhof — Church (We Be Friends)

Church by Ricki Weidenhof

A member of Pittsburgh avant-collagists Sneeze Awfull, Ricki Weidenhof examines a life of religious ambivalence and search for identity on their solo album Church. Working through a range of styles that illustrate and amplify those themes, Weidenhof produces an emotionally rich and sometimes challenging fractal mosaic. The wonderfully titled suite “Raptured in Formal Violence” contrasts liturgical solemnity and a babel of religious voices with jittering house to capture that mixture of dread and ecstasy the Church so often induces. At the other of the scale “Dreary Field” is an Arthur Russell inspired idyll of acoustic guitar and cello as Weidenhof singsof the past “I finished that game of hide and seek long ago/Only it was still at play/I remember the last place I had hidden.” “Extinction Meditation” begins in a similar vein, the religious and personal entwined with vivid imagery, before a chaos of multi-tracked vocals, distorted beats, and razor strings. A powerful, heartfelt record that deserves a wide audience.

Andrew Forell

Wormed — Omegon (Season of Mist)

OMEGON by Wormed

It’s hard to say anything meaningful about Wormed — pretty much everything about the band is absurd, or at least verging on it. To identify some key elements of the absurdity: the “vocals” of Jose Luis Rey Sanchez (appearing on Omegon, as always, under the appropriately throaty appellation Phlegeton — Sanchez is likely referring to the mythic river, but all I can think of is phlegm…), for whom the unappetizing term “throat fart” might have been coined; the sheer nuttiness of the band’s tech death wankery, which the band has actually moderated a wee bit for Omegon; the fact that Wormed have been at it since 1999, mostly developing a continuous narrative of a fictional cosmos, full of conflict among evil extraterrestrial forces, multiple timelines and a protagonist named Krigshu (some song titles from this record are indicative: “Aetheric Transdimensionalization,” “Gravitational Servo Matrix,” “Virtual Teratogensis”). You figure it out. Beyond the music — more tech than slam, but still seeking some sort of apotheosis of that quality death metal freaks name “brutality” — what’s most engaging about Wormed is the band’s ability to sustain the absurdity and to seem absolute serious about it. Maybe that makes the Spanish band especially well-suited to our times. Or maybe we just haven’t gotten the joke yet.

Jonathan Shaw

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: “Vision of Hope“

Plot threads coming together as we approach the home stretch and season finale arc, lets explore some sewers today!

Kanan has deemed it safe enough to enlist help training Ezra again.  Fortunately this time they are solidly on the ground and taking precautions. XD

This exercise is a little bit similar to the one Anakin put Ahsoka through in Trials of the Jedi.  Only, you know, it has an actual achievable goal and endpoint (redirecting a blaster bolt into the target helmet) and Kanan doesn’t force Ezra to keep getting knocked unconscious over and over again.

Nice detail in Ezra sensing bolts coming and ducking, moving before they even remotely reach him.

Please help him, he’s so tired.

Seeing that Ezra’s distracted, Kanan calls a brief halt.  I do wonder if Ezra’s own anticipation of catching Gall Trayvis’s broadcast, while he’s open to the Force and letting it help him deflect and dodge shots, is what triggered his vision.

The boy does tend to accident his way into Force breakthroughs lol.

This full-body eyeroll is such a typical teenager thing.

The “Shenanigans” leitmotif comes in here, in playful synths.  Then the Force ring sound effects starts and it crashes to a halt with a note of cymbal percussion.  The strings take over with high frantic ascending trills that drop away into the full-on soundscape of Force noises, only a strained trumpet bleeting out halting notes of Ezra’s theme.

There’s a pulsing heartbeat sound underneath everything too.  Also love the wavering effect on the sides of the screen to indicate the vision.

The amazement when Kanan tells Ezra he deflected every single shot into the helmet, aww.

He looks so proud.

You know in hindsight it’s really not surprising that Kanan assumed Ezra had graduated to tracking through the Force in “Legacy”, given how often the kid had already surprised him. XD

His face.  *sobs*

I haven’t been commenting on it much but pay attention to whenever the titlecard pops up without its normal bombastic fanfare.  Usually a sign that things are serious.  I remember we went a solid streak of like five episodes in Season Four without a single fanfare and it was STRESSFUL.

Kanan brings up the very likely possibility that Ezra’s desires are coloring his vision, making him see what he wants to see out of it, which again goes to show why the Jedi teach discipline and clarity of mind when tapping into the Force.  You bring your own emotions and junk into the connection with you and they can trick you even more than the already cryptic and vague visions can.  “Your focus determines your reality.”

We’ll revisit this concept later in the series.

Zeb going for a headsmack while Sabine chooses a shoulder bump.  Sabine has this adorable devilish grin right before she lays it on him.  It turns softer and more playful as she passes.

Ezra smacks Zeb back as he runs into the Ghost, cute.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The way Ezra twirls his helmet before sitting down, lovely little character touches like this make the animation feel more natural and immersive and realistic.

Hngh, Ezra’s eagerness in these early scenes hurts.

Lol, Sabine leans in when Ezra mentions the mural, the artist in her is intrigued.  And without missing a beat she pulls up the correct schematic.

This is the biased shipper in me but I’m loving their comfortable proximity, you can see Sabine slip out of her seat in the booth and kneel or crouch next to Ezra who’s on the stool.

Kanan once again warning Ezra not to put too much stock in his vision and Hera raising an eyebrow like, “Mais, c’est quoi?”

“He had a what now?”

Hi Zare!

Zare is exiting state left into his own spinoff adventure lol.  (Really gotta get myself a copy of his books.)

Ezra’s eyes are really pretty this episode.

The crew talking about Ezra’s tragic backstory. :(

That old Ralph McQuarrie concept art put to use in lovely fashion.

*has a plan*

*DOUBT.jpeg*

And Chopper straight up murdered his first other droid lol.  And also very nearly takes Kanan’s head off.

The sass on this droid. XD

Always found it cute how Ezra doesn’t get indignant or offended by Sabine implying he smells like the sewers but glees up like it’s the most exciting thing in the world that she’s paid enough attention to him to tell.

Even Kanan’s like, “Okay, can you not be embarrassing about your obvious crush for like two seconds?”

Hi Trayvis, you dirty lying snake. :)

This shot of Ezra and Kanan igniting their lightsabers together for the first time is pretty sweet.

“Padawan Jabba.”  Snrk, love that Kallus remembered that.

Oooooh lookit the way Zeb’s bo-staff lights up the smoke!

Hera’s blaster has a very unique sound that I like.

The “Shenanigans” cue comes back but it is a lot less fun and upbeat.  Some of the chords sound transposed to minor key.

Trayvis starting pinging me the moment we saw him in person, honestly, just something about him and the way he talked was way too slimy but his hesitance to actually escape here definitely got me suspicious.

Good thing Kanan was reviewing blaster bolt deflection earlier lol.

SNAAAAAAAAKE.

NO ONE LIKES YOU. >:(

“How will you find us?”  “I can smell you, remember?” <3333333

Love to see Sabine initiating the banter for once.

Even Hera is like, “THAT’S CUTE GUYS BUT WE GOTTA GO.”

Trayvis digging for leads to other Rebel factions like the lying rat he is. >:(

Aaaaaand this is why Hera doesn’t tell the others anything, Ezra’s so eager to believe Trayvis is an ally that he’s just talking openly in front of him.  Disaster averted only because Ezra thinks the Ghost crew is literally all there is.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The consistent wafts of air from the fan that blow Ezra’s hair.

The sharp-eyed can tell that Hera adjusts something on her blaster moments before handing it to Trayvis.

EVERY SINGLE SHOT OF THE BETRAYED LOOK ON EZRA’S FACE HURTS ME PHYSICALLY AND PERSONALLY.

Bbbbyyyyyyyyyy. :((((((((((((

Hera’s furious Mama Bear haymaker to Trayvis’s face is... satisfying.

I love the sound Ezra’s saber makes when it’s turned on, it sound so unique to normal lightsaber ignitions.

And then there’s one last distorted iteration of the “Shenanigans” cue and Ezra’s death glare game continues to be on point.

Hera’s turn to comfort Ezra this time, though Kanan’s flat, “I saw this bratty kid who constantly caused me trouble.” gets a chuckle out of him first.

“Shenanigans“ comes back, properly in the woodwinds section and major key again to close us out.

Oof.  This episode isn’t one I particularly rewatch that often, since it’s kind of a bummer.  Our potential ally turns out to be a fraud and a spy, all the work the crew has done only seeming to put bigger and bigger targets on their backs.  But this is a franchise about hope, about enduring until the dawn breaks, so our heroes escape to lick their wounds, regroup, encourage each other, and try again.

And next episode they make some big splashes.  Boy oh boy. :)

[mmorpg-escapism]

Alrighty, the brief intermission to finish corpa and spend an hour with my static before they dispersed is over. Back to pseudo-liveblogging ShB.

The music. I am not normally one for video game music - it's often distracting or not my vibe, so I'll have it off in most games and listen to my own... Not so in FFXIV. And since I spent the majority of my childhood in a concert band, I'm gonna actually pick at zone themes this time through.

Amh Areng's theme is beautiful... It starts with synths playing this almost regretful tune over a steady beat that's reminiscent of the cadence of a trolley on rails. Then there's some bright yet wistful vocals to remind us that yes, there's a solid wall of Light threatening this place. The eerie ambience that comes with the Everlasting Light weather just adds another layer of "something terrible happened here" to the place.

I could get lost in this one.

[danganronpa96]

Hi Lenn! According to you, who would each DR69 and DR96 character listen to (musically speaking)? Who would be their favourite artist/favourite song? (just a silly question to distract me from chapter 4) (you guys need to pay my therapy/j)

Btw, thanks a lot, both to you and Rexx, for everything you do for the fic! I love your writing and also the amazing art!🫠❤️ We’ll patiently wait for chapter 5, but I’m sure it will be FANTASTIC, as always🥹 love ya🫶🏻

It’s funny how I received two similar music asks in a row, but because this one is actually a different question on the topic, I can answer this one separately!

However, since even the last music post had me in agony (/j), I don’t think I’m going to go through every single character’s individual favourite song and artist, and moreso just their music taste (especially since some characters would canonically listen to music from cultures or genres I don’t listen to or know much about myself).

DR96

Hayasaka - most people would say classical, but my big brain (/lh) has bestowed the headcanon ever: vocaloid. I think it would be funny if this man had a secret love for the music, walking to work listening to the most depressing or cutesy song known to Earth. His favourite producer would probably be wowaka (rip) or 40mp.

Kurumada - that kind of grunge, heavy beat, but sort of depressing music? Not trap per say, but like r&b and rap. Or whatever is playing at the gym at the time, sometimes a song will get added to his workout playlist if it sounds good enough.

Mai - she’s that kind of pop girl, but also likes some more sombre songs here and there. Definitely indulges in songs with playful and or sensual lyrics.

Walter - (this is where my disclosure starts to show) Like classic, 50-80s songs. Jazz and blues, or something he can sing along to on the radio.

Jesse - hip-hop, trap, some heavy metal, rock, techno and house music. Anything with a stanky-ass beat (/lh) and Jesse will probably listen to it.

Saiki - I’ve given him the headcanon that he listens to hyperpop, speedcore and breakcore. I got the idea from another tumblr post that said he’d use loud, scratchy music to try and block out the thoughts of other people. It’s implied that’s what he was listening to during chapter 3 as well!

Kaidou - what we all listened to when we were 13 and wanted to be edgy. Also fandom songs (I know this isn’t nationally accurate unless there are hardcore jp fandom song fans lol), and video game OSTs that make him feel powerful.

Retsuko - heavy metal, obviously. But, I think she also likes pop and idol music, considering her history with that, hehe

Natsuki - vocaloid hardcore to the max (some favourite producers be like deco*27 and syudou). Also J-pop/idol music (and some video game OSTs).

Yuri - now I think she would like some classical music, considering her whole elegant aesthetic. I think she’d personally like piano and violin arrangements though, since they are relaxing to listen to while reading. I think she would be convinced to listen to some J-pop after Natsuki begs encourages her.

Hiroshi - he would be a classical guy too, but he would also enjoy some video game OSTs (since he’s kind of a certified gamer if you consider the novels and that chibi anime thingy).

Brian - anything past 1996 would be periodically inaccurate, but I feel like he’s the type of guy who’d try to listen to anything if someone recommended it to him. I think he’d enjoy new-age, or something relaxing on par with the vibes of his game’s OST (synth… rock? I’m not a genres expert).

Bojack - it’s either something really depressing or really sexual and there is just that scale and nothing else

Latte - canonically, folk and symphony since I think that’s the sort of music Parfaedia has. Although, she’d also listen to jazz and dance (she that type of teacher to play music in class all the students try to grin and bare because no one listens to it anymore /lh)

L - whatever music is scientifically proven to enhance focus. Classical? Some jazz? I feel like L likes to work in silence, but with music on the bare occasion.

Ena - something that we would not be able to comprehend if we heard it. Lyrics that sound like 14 different languages all mashed up together. Instruments that shouldn’t exist. Voices that shouldn’t exist. The same song that runs for 4 minutes on the first play, 15 seconds on the second, and 2 hours on the third. Or just webcore/weirdcore instrumental music lmao

DR69

Luigi - calm jazz and swing, I also think he be into acoustic arrangements.

Mario - I think he’d listen to energetic music to get himself pumped up. But also enjoys the folk music of the mushroom kingdom.

Peter - I would say 50-90s songs, ranging from classic hits to goofy ass songs (like the Rock Lobster bit)

Brian - I think he’s into ska, jazz, and blues. Also very pretentious with his music taste lol

Miku - Pop, dance, techno and electronica are her mains, but she can dabble into any genre. Likes to support and listen to her other fellow voice synth’s music.

Teto - rock, but also some dance/pop. Secretly enjoys listening to Miku’s songs (as long as she’s not around)

Nagito - nicher artists of alt and synth. I don’t think he’d be into mainstream music. Also depressing lyrics are his go-to lol

Sans - ironically, the stankiest beat you’ve ever heard and penis music (rubber band). Unironically, some smooth tunes akin to Nastablook’s music taste.

Parappa - rap, hip-hop, r&b and dance. Could unironically make a great rap over the instrumentals of ‘A Pimp Named Slickback’.

Fluttershy - Equestria folk music, acapella and that musical-type genre they have in the show’s music.

Ayano - whatever her Senpai is listening to. So, I would assume the latest trending J-pop mostly.

Ashley - rock and alt. Emo type beat. Mainly female vocals. One or two heavy metal songs. Any other warioware cast member will die upon listening to any of it lol

2D - his favourite band is canonically The Human League, so other new wave and synth-pop stuff too.

Mr. Krabs - sea shanties, unironically. He probably sang a lot of them while on the navy.

Dedede - (I have no Kirby lore but I must scream) I feel like he’d play classical music in his castle to give off those regal king vibes. But he’d also enjoy energetic music like his boss battle themes.

The Conductor - western and western movie soundtracks. Also some smooth jazz and soul. I like to think he likes the sounds of the piano the most, from the ‘heart to heart’ OST

Also, TYSM for the lovely words!! I’m so happy to hear how much you’ve enjoyed the fic so far! 😭❤️

[popbloganddropit]

The Tortured Poets Department - Taylor Swift (Part 1)

I’ll be posting 8 songs at a time to break this lengthy album up a bit.

Initial thoughts: She’s raw and unfiltered in a way she hasn’t been before.

But Daddy I Love Him and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me are the immediate insane stand outs

The Black Dog? 🤮 CoSoSoM? 🫨 how did it end? Drag meeee for being nosy.

1. Fortnight (feat. Post Malone)- This is a very interesting introductory track/lead single. There’s some blending of (as far as we know) truth and fiction, which i think stays throughout the album. However, there’s not a ton for me lyrically or sonically for me to connect to here. The missing rhyme scheme in the first lines is distracting. I would have liked a little more Post Malone overall and a bit more duetting. I’m sure there’s some symbolism in their voices rarely overlapping in meaningful ways, but the hints of it we get sound good, and I want MORE. 3/5

Best Line: “All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February. I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary.”

2. The Tortured Poets Department- I like the sound of this, the melodies, most of the cheeky humor (“I think things I never say, like ‘Who uses typewriters anyway?’”), but the Charlie Puth and Golden Retriever lines really ruin it for me. They totally take me out of the vibe and are distractingly out of pocket. 2/5

Best Line: I like the “I’ve seen/read” lines in the pre-chorus, but the unhinged-ness of putting something as raw and exposed as, “But you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave. And I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen” in a public space really sets the tone of the album.

3. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys- I love her echo-y, layered vocals. Her cadence sounds like war drums that really fits the toy soldier metaphor. I think some slight production tweaks would have really taken it over the top. The vocals sound so cool, but there’s still room for a little more than a thwacking drum machine and a hint of sparkly synth. 3/5

Best Line: I love “I’m queen of sandcastles he destroys”. Runner up goes to “‘Cause you should’ve seen him when he first ✨saw✨me”.

4. Down Bad- I love the alien abduction theme and the trippy production to match. The dichotomy of the space-y verses and daily-life drudgery of the chorus works on a metaphoric and Down bad crying at the gym? The self awareness to call it teenage petulance before just saying “fuck it”? People not getting that Miss Swift is sometimes jealous king around and doesn’t take herself seriously 100% off the time will never make sense to me. 4/5

Best Line: “Did you really beam me up, in a cloud of sparkling dust?”

5. So Long, London- once the beat comes in, we’re off to the races and you can’t quite catch your breath through this whole song, especially with the gut-punching lyrics. A beautiful arrangement from Aaron Dessner here that effortlessly carries the weight of anger and heartbreak. 5/5

Best line: “And you say I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip.”

6. But Daddy, I Love Him- I love everything about this song. It sounds like a sunny, summer day. Maybe the narrator is a little delusional, but whomst amongst us hasn’t been? The bridge telling people off a bit is a great moment for her. “I’ll tell you something about my good name, it’s mine alone to disgrace,” feels like something she’s needed to say for a while. 5/5

Best line: there’s a lot of great moments, but, “I’m having his baby. No, I’m not, but you should see your faces” is such a hilarious double-take moment upon first listen that it has to take the crown.

7. Fresh Out the Slammer- I have seen the steaming numbers and y’all are SLEEPING on this track! It’s sad, it’s wistful, it’s a little sexy, it’s everything. I love the rolling cadence of the verses and the slower, haunting choruses. The decelerating outro is perfection. 5/5

Best line: “Now, pretty baby, I'm running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to”.

8. Florida!!! (Ft. Florence and the Machine) - Florida has committed various atrocities on the people of the United States of America, but this is absolutely not one of them. A song of escapism, ghosts, and a banging drum chorus that earns those three exclamation points. Hurricane Florence is a beautiful addition to the track and it wouldn’t sound out of place on an album of hers either. Every line of this is an earworm that you’ll catch h yourself singing over and over again. Fuck me up, Florida (!!!), indeed. 5/5

Best Line: “Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. Well me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.”

[syntheticmortal]

Oooooh song meme song meme. Tagged by the ever lovely @crownedinmarigolds, so I'll follow suit and post five songs! ^^

I listen to a lot of different stuff and mostly bounce around for different creative needs so here are some current lads in the roster

Starve the Ego, Feed the Soul by The Glitch Mob is just one of those perfect chill synth tracks. It's a perfect ending theme and I adore it so passionately for it

RUN THE SPIKES by wew lad is a mash up of Run by IAMTHEKIDYOUKNOWWHATIMEAN and Spikes by Death Grips. Simply the GMing song I listen to when prepping. It keeps the tension high and helps me always be looking to hype the next story beat no matter what it is

Invisible by Shadow Academy is a new one, grabbed when I went to check out Dan Avidan's other musical ventures recently. It's the current themesong of the Cyberpunk Vampire novel I've outlined! ^^

Chrysalis by Purity Filter is a song I saw on a SuperEyepatchWolf about a year ago and I adored it so much I played it on repeat while writing and editing. It's the right combination of high impact to keep me from getting bored, low impact enough to keep me from getting distracted, and its sounds make me feel in an ethereal cyberpunk-y state. Brilliance honestly.

Come out to La by DON BROCO is also such fun. An expression of frustration against the endeavour to make it as a creative, I also really enjoy it as a song by English artists about having to appeal to the all consuming monstrosity of an American city as just a personal thing. Keeps me strong, and on the right healthy mindset

And, for a laugh, I'm going to tag @skaerdir @klaciate @vamp-orwave @dragomirthewizard @renaissancebadboy @tweltchy @zoominalong

(but no pressure! 💜)

[olddirtybadfic]

Your Narf is My Drug

The mice have driven me so insane, I wrote a fic with a Kesha parody about it.

It's to the tune of "Your Love is My Drug."

-O-o-O-o-O-

(Brain sits amidst the smoking debris of his latest plan.)

Brain: This is a hot mess we’ve gotten into.

Pinky: (sing-songily) Look at all the shinies! (tosses broken pieces into the air and hops around underneath them as they fall on his head) Zounds, Brain! I caught them all! (laughs hysterically)

Brain: (glares, folds arms) Speaking of hot messes….

(Brain’s vision suddenly turns to slow-motion. He takes in the gliding of Pinky’s supple limbs, Pinky’s lithesome hips swirling like the spirals of Brain’s hypnosis machines. The wreckage rain reflects the light in such a way that Pinky glows to rival the Pleiades.)

Brain: Emphasis on hot….Egad, what am I thinking?! This is preposterous! This is absurd! This is….

(He clutches at his head, as if that would quell the desire flaring up like so many bunsen burners. He finally breaks down at the pile of smashed electronics.)

Brain: Will you never cease that infernal buzzing?! (pounds wickle mousey fists on table)

(The rhythmic buzzing from the broken contraption starts to arrange itself into a poppy synth bassline. The pounding of Brain’s fists on the table provides the beat.)

(First verse) Brain: I feel like Captain Ahab; I’m too sunken in the deep. Emotional repression Is losing me all my sleep.

There’s no time to dilly-dally; My world domination calls. I’m stuck with this dishy dope and Hearing him spew his spurtive squalls!

(Pre-chorus) Our two fates are intertwined; What far-off planets have aligned? This novel factor’s undefined. I can’t get Pinky off my mind!

(Chorus) His narf, his narf, his narf Stole my heart. His narf, his narf, his narf. I say, his narf, his narf, his narf Stole my heart. His narf, his narf, his narf.

(Second verse) His cranium’s harder than gneiss; I’m telling him everything thrice. My mind and heart in vises: I can chart this diacrisis.

I can’t resist his whimsy. All my defenses, flimsy. My schemes will surely be impacted If I go on being so damn distracted!

(Pre-chorus) Our two fates are intertwined; What far-off planets have aligned? This sequence is not my design. I can’t get Pinky off my mind!

(Chorus) His narf, his narf, his narf Stole my heart. His narf, his narf, his narf. I say, his narf, his narf, his narf Stole my heart. His narf, his narf, his narf.

(Bridge) I must fight to gain control, But every hour takes its toll. I try so hard to keep my cool But still I fall for this fine fool!

(Pinky comes in, twirling glow sticks. He has painted geometric shapes on himself with non-toxic mouse safe glow-in-the-dark body paint. When he turns around, Brain can see that Pinky has somehow painted a neon yellow line down his own back, ending in a neon pink heart over his butt.)

Pinky: Braaiiiin~ Just a suggestion…. Why don’t we have a bath in some warm salad dressing? Does that sound like some silly-willy fun-fun? Is my fjord your drug? POIT! Your drug? ZORT! Your drug? NARF! Your drug? Is my—FJORD!—your drug?

Brain: No! Pinky, you’ll get us copyright-stricken!

(Chorus) Oh, Brain! My narf, my narf, my narf Stole your heart! My narf, my narf, my narf! You said my narf, my narf, my narf Stole your heart! My narf, my narf, my narf!

You said my zort, my zort, my zort Is your drug! My zort, my zort, my zort! You said my zort, my zort, my zort Is your drug! My zort, my zort, my zort!

(The buzzing synth line stops.)

Braaiiiiin~ Brainy-cakes… (flirty giggle) Sooooo… (delirious laughter) My narf, my narf, my narf, my narf, is your drug. I like your tail.

(A giant “DMCA” falls on Brain’s head. He crawls out from underneath it, looking especially worse for wear.)

Brain: I suspect this comedown will be particularly hard.

-O-o-O-o-O-

The abyss is quite inviting if you gaze long enough.

[knownangels]

hang out

wc: 1.7k

Someone grabs him from behind.

Benji lifts from his body, eyes shuttering like they always do, and bursts into motion. 

He drops to a knee as he spins out of grasp, shrugging away the shoulder pawed by a stranger’s hand. And then in a series of movements, he has the unlucky bastard’s knee knocked to the side, spun off-balance. It gets Benji in range. Benji’s awful in range. Up-close.

But in the back of his mind, he’s prompted into harsh movements by something even worse than in-range training. 

Betrayed, a little voice hisses. Compromised.

It’s that special rage that pushes Benji back to his feet, the body of his attacker in tow. It’s that rage that spins it by the shoulders to face him, momentum throwing the person into rapid, desperate stumbles as Benji walks them both forward. Directly, and without much care for gentleness, further into the depths of the alley. Towards the brick.

As his back hits the wall, Xavier makes a cartoonish sort of ack! sound. It’s so absurd Benji immediately snaps from wherever his head had gone. Not knowing whether it’s unintentional or intentional (but, knowing this one: with a desperate need for Benji to agree with his humor). 

That thought, really, is what snaps him out of it. That it’s Xavier trying to make him laugh, even with a forearm to his throat.

“Dude,” Xavier wheezes, grinning even as his breath cuts short. It makes him sound funny, and he must agree, because he’s grinning like a lunatic while he says it. “I just wanted to hang out.” 

*

They do. A not-so-carefully organized rendezvous whose coordinates were delivered in code over an agreed frequency. How Xavier manages to get this deep behind lines, Benji isn’t sure — but he figures it has something to do with the arsenal of networking and connections Xavier has established for himself amongst his group. Or so he assumes, based on how much the bastard yaps. 

For twenty minutes. For twenty minutes, they converse. They joke. For twenty minutes, (Benji counts as discretely as he can with glances at his watch) they circle the outer path of the city. It’s mostly an entertainment and commercial distract; these days, it houses a quickly dwindling array of shops and venues. 

“It used to be cool.”

“It’s still pretty cool,” Xavier says. He can’t stop looking above them, through the great glass dome encapsulating the city. “I mean, we don’t have anything like this —oh fuck! Is that a whale?”

Benji nods, but he doesn’t have the attention for it. Xavier’s darted down a path, eyes wide with childish excitement as he watches the great, dark shape in the far distance traverse the ocean floor like a hawk in the sky. Slowly, inch by inch, it fades the same mottled black-blue of the horizon until its gone, swallowed up by the dark water beyond.

Maran hates this place. He’d been here exactly once, to the comic store around the corner from where Benji leads them now. And then he had sworn, as typical, to never ever fucking come back. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” 

Benji snaps out of his thoughts. He’d been walking with Xavier close behind, the enemy soldier at his back —

The enemy soldier, Benji thinks, grounding himself. At his back.

He slows until Xavier passes him. His brow furrows. He feels no apprehension or fear or adrenaline; he should have. Xavier is armed. And Xavier is — Xavier. Benji’s seen him in the midst of it. 

“Yes,” Benji confirms. He steps up to the shopfront, shoulder to chest with the other man. “You said you liked music.”

Xavier tilts to smile at him. “Fuck, dude. I meant like — I go to the club and like music.” He gestures broadly at the store. “Not, like, actual real music. Or making it.” 

Benji shrugs. “Club music’s still music, mate. Got a decent beat.” 

“Tell me about it.” Xavier adopts a strange stance, then lifts both arms in the air and drops his chin as he bounces in place, unce-unce-unce of his own bad synth impression serving as tempo. When he stops, his hair’s a bit of a mess and his cheeks are flushed.

Benji clears his throat. “Ah, well. My bad. Can’t really recommend you clubs. Y’know. Considering. I, uh. Like this place,”

“Yeah? Can I guess?”

“Guess?” Benji asks, flustered. 

Xavier laughs. “Yeah, dude. What you play.” At Benjis surprised expression, his laughter bursts forth again. “Benji, come on. You’re totally obvious.”

“Alright, then, if I’m obvious. What?” 

“Hm.” Xavier says, eons of philosophers providing wisdom to that single, brief noise. “Saxophone.”

“Fuck yourself!” Benji splutters. He shoves Xavier, who stumbles a bit into the brick behind him. “Dickhead.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Xavier leans back into Benji’s space, as if forced by gravity. “Um. Bass?”

“Drums.” Benji holds up his hands, flexes them. “Couldn’t tell?” 

Xavier swallows. His eyes dart between Benji’s raised fingers, green finding brown in the gaps. “I was wondering.”

“Used shit sticks as a kid.” Benji says. He taps a finger against the window. “Like those.”

Xavier looks to where he points. “What’s that brand?”

“Why, you lookin’ to upstage me?”

Xavier smile stays turned toward him a split second longer than Benji thinks it ought to. Only after that lingering beat does his pale, freckled chin turn towards the store display. Brass and cherry-red candy paint acrylic guitars gleaming new behind an already glossy window. It looks like its cared after regularly and maybe even obsessively. There’s a bright yellow sale sticker in the bottom left, shaped like a star: voted best manufacturer by DRUM! four years in a row. 

“Never heard of this one. Don’t have it.” Xavier sways forward and taps the glass. “Amazon Basics. You can get, like, everything.” He frowns. “Uh, mostly because they like. Own...everything.”

Benji thinks back to his main supply pack, propped against the bottom of his cot on base. There’s a pair of worn and oil-darkened sticks tucked inside for luck. 

He frowns, staring at the laser-etched logo. “Mad.” He notes, drawing the vowel long. 

“What?”

“We’ve got a few — brands, I mean. Myself, m’kinda sentimental. Only used Yamaha growin’ up ‘cause they were cheap.” He looks up at Xavier. “Never heard of Amazon. Instrument company?”

“Dude.” 

Benji’s turn. “What?”

“Dude.” Xavier repeats, answering absolutely nothing. He takes Benji by the shoulders and shakes him. “You don’t have Amazon over there? Oh, fuck, that’s like…wicked inconvenient.” 

Benji blinks at him.

Xavier smiles wider. “Imagine overnight shipping. Same hour shipping. You guys got that?” 

Benji blinks at him again, then scoffs. “Mate, we’re lucky to get three weeks. You lot keep comin’ and pinchin’ the majority of our power source, remember?”

Xavier’s laugh is slightly delayed. Once it comes, it’s a big, bark of a sound. 

Then he sobers. Benji’s smile dies a bit, too. Suddenly the moment is too visceral, the conflict around them closing in less backdrop. 

It feels so different with you, Benji thinks. It feels slower. I forget. The fondness rolls his stomach with a knife-twist sharp like anxiety, serrated like fear. 

“Do you want me to break in and steal you the cool multidimensional drum sticks?” Xavier whispers. His voice is dead serious, pitched low. But there’s a little slippery twist to the words that lets Benji know he’s being…teased? 

He snorts. 

“Aw, you’re a right evil bastard, aren’t you?” Benji grins, spurned on by the shamed flush on Xavier’s face. “The family owned shop? I’d judge you.”

“I don’t want you judging me,” Xavier sing-songs. He tucks his hands in his pants pockets, swaying. “I just want you to like me.” 

Benji rolls his eyes. “You’re alright.”

Xavier takes a step. Benji has to tilt his chin up to keep their eyes level. 

“Just alright?” 

He lifts a gloved hand, pinches index and thumb together. “Fine. Bit better than alright.” 

Xavier must mean for his next look to be silly; outrageously flirty. But without trying, mostly because of how his eyes slip half-closed, he manages to land between coy and sultry. It, Benji thinks, is a dangerous place for him to be. 

“You gonna give it up any time soon?”

Xavier’s brows waggle. “Literally the second you say flip, I am fucking flipping.” 

“Can you?” 

“Fuck off.” Xavier laughs. His hands finally slip from Benji’s shoulders, although they don’t go without a friendly (friendly?) squeeze. “Maybe not, actually. Haven’t tried.” 

“I meant,” Benji laughs. “I meant if you’re gonna give up the act, Xavier.” 

“The act.” 

“The act.” Benji says.

“The…act.”

He throws his hands up in the air, laughing. “Fuckin’ hell. Got myself a shadow and a damn echo.”

But every light moment seems to catch wrong on the edges; when Benji tosses his head back, he sees not just the deep, sun-mottled blue of the ocean above, but each explosive orange burst of the battle outside the domed city’s safety.

He remembers, suddenly, that he stands in one of the most secure bastions of that — safety — left. Because of the man in front of him, smiling with his fingers tucked a millimeter beneath his sleeve. Benji glances down at that, and tries a hundred different ways not to romanticize the touch’s softness in direct comparison to the literal war being raged above. 

He tries, anyway. 

“When I found you in that alleyway,” Xavier starts, his fingers drawing circles on Benji’s skin, “I was going to kill you and loot you and sneak back home in your uniform.”

Benji wonders if he’ll ever tire of the up-downs of being around Xavier, the constant shifts in energy and tone — without the sensation of being yanked about, Benji likes being kept on his toes. 

“Now there’s a thing to admit,” Benji says wryly. “And of your own free will n’volition, too.” 

Xavier moves again. Another step. The smallest he seems capable of taking; he’s in Benji’s space, barely, and touching, but only just. Benji can’t figure out which side of the other soldier this is: purposeful or natural. 

“Shut up, I’m not done.” His hand trails up Benji’s forearm, squeezes. “When I got closer I was like, well no fucking shot. Right? You’re just —”

“Got a bit on you, hey?” Benji teases. His eyes feel heavy, but without exhaustion. “And you on me, suppose?”

Xavier blinks sluggishly at him. His mouth, lips slightly parted, splits into another wild grin. 

“Hah. That’s what she said.”

Benji gives him a quizzical look. “What?” 

“Wot?” Xavier shakes his head. “You don’t have The Office either? Man. This universe sucks.” He winks. “At least it has you.”

“Awful,” Benji amends, ducking his head slightly. “Amended to awful, not alright.” 

“Benji.” 

He glances up. Xavier cradles the side of his face like that means something. 

“We’re — I have to —” his eyes dart between Benji’s own. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. Xavier is not smiling. “I want — fuck. Can we kiss again?” 

Benji nods, tongue glued thick to the roof of his mouth. As Xavier leans forward, ducking down in the grim blue light, he catches one last glimpse of the fiery battle above. 

One they both should be fighting. 

[verigayo]

Here’s a small part of the video essay I’m writing on The Quick Brown Fox’s fascinating evolution through their discography. This part is about WANDERLUST and how weird it is. Special interest yapping abound.

WANDERLUST is in a very weird place temporally for The Quick Brown Fox’s discography. It is by all intents and purposes, a cinematic album, an album through which the more ambitious, beautiful, and meaningful music can exist within the confines of tbqf. However, due to the fact that it was released not even a year after the previous album, one where the vast majority of the project is still filled with the absurdity a listener would come to expect from the Fox, the experience is somewhat dampened by its reliance on old reliable methods of song structure.

Upon listening to WANDERLUST, the listener is greeted by an album that seems almost purposefully built to take the listener on a journey, a perhaps wandering expanse (ha ha) of uniquely beautifully arranged songs. I say almost purposeful deliberately though, as cracks in the construction of the album begin to appear near the second half. LINE OUT, while really pretty, lacks the inherent core of any of the other songs on the album, suddenly ending any momentum it creates to lead to a beautiful synth and piano passage that continues a seamless transition into the next track. The song, while not even being the shortest song on the album, leaves little to no impact on the overall experience, merely acting as a staging point, a transition between CRT and 晴天の霹靂. It does however, continue the general atmosphere of the beauty of the album so at least I can appreciate this, even if it’s not necessarily very impressive of a song in its own way.

晴天の霹靂 continues this beautiful piano before making a transition into rising tension of a borderline dubstep beat. While it does sound kind of weird compared to everything else, it feels at least normal for a high energy song like this to exist in the project and the sounds are at least similar in vibe. Then, about 2:00 into the track, it suddenly uses chopped up samples to make a fun beat compliment. This breaks the very strong thematic component of the album as it sounds exactly like any other qbf song for this short period before fading out. Admittedly, the chopped sample returns mixed with the synths from earlier and it does feel like it was building towards something but this definitely damaged the cohesion of the album. And unfortunately, the cracks continues to show through as it goes to the next track.

AUTUMN DAY DISTRACTION starts with a good connecting synth before basically abandoning the entire conceit of this new form of the rest of the album, only keeping some of the similar synths and soft vocal samples. This song could very easily have existed on the previous album without some of the connecting elements and considering an early version of JUST HESITATION was on that project, I would not be surprised if it may have been partially made before the rest of WANDERLUST.

Realistically, these complaints are minor as the song is very good at being a high energy speedcore banger but the damage to an album that seemed from the majority of the songs to be conceived with a certain aesthetic vision is definitely palpable. It feels almost obvious to someone who has been paying close attention to the evolution of this artist that this song exists in such a state because it was second nature at this point for the songs to be made like this, even if it feels somewhat out of place against the rest of the album. Again, I don’t really dislike any of these songs, I still think WANDERLUST is a really really amazing album that has some of tqbf’s best work, I just think because of the fact it was released in such quick succession to the previous project and so close to the rest of the catalogue the alias had produced, it hurts the completeness of the vision the album sets forward by relying on echoes of the past rather than embracing the future.