#drum core international

[neuvirtualoasis]

Tennessee to Kentucky to Indianapolis & Back

If any of you enjoy DCI (Drum Core International - Competitive field show), go check out the Worlds that are held at Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis. Totally worth a few late nights out on the town.

[dciyaoi]

BOSTON CRUSADERS 2009 — The Core of Temptation

Finishing in 7th place, Boston Crusaders' "The Core of Temptation" figuratively explored the story of Eve in the Biblical Garden of Eden, drawing on musical portraits of desire and its consequences as paradise plunged into madness and chaos.

[hopeymchope]

No hardcore fandom has ever died so quickly and so completely as Veronica Mars. This is the story of its murder.

They should study Veronica Mars in Hollywood. I'm serious. It's an incredible story of how to go from "loud, passionate fanbase with its own fandom name that campaigns and advocates constantly for it" to "absolutely zero fucking interest" damn near OVERNIGHT with just ONE epically terri-bad decision.

If you weren't there, you don't understand: From 2007 to 2014, the fandom — the "Marshmallows," as they called themselves — were everywhere in the Internet's geek spaces, my friends. They routinely beat the drum about the series' three seasons and its excellence, lamented its cancellation, pushed others to give the show a try, and always - ALWAYS - proudly and loudly called for the series to be revived.

FULL DISCLOSURE/CONFESSION: I've not even watched that much Veronica Mars, frankly... ? Yeah, I'm sorry! it does seem pretty good from like the four-or-five hours I've experienced firsthand. I just never took the time to sit down with it. Regardless, I find fandoms and their dynamics — both how they operate internally and how they display to others externally — deeply fascinating. And I honestly find them easier to study from the outside than the inside. Like, if I'm IN a fandom, I'm more likely to stay in my corner and ignore places that seem negative. But being on the outside lets me just... absorb what's out there, looking into every forum without judgment. It's like studying pop-culture sociology or something? And it helps that I'm very close to some serious(-ly burnt) Marshmallows. It makes it so much easier to find and absorb the gamut of the fandom.

Besides: There is NO fandom story I've ever seen that's anything like what happened to Veronica Mars and the Marshmallows.

(Time to insert a brief explainer for the uninitiated: Veronica Mars was a TV series that aired from 2004-2007 on the now-deceased UPN network wherein Kristen Bell played the titular character, a high school girl whose single dad was a private detective in the fictional community of Neptune, California. She grew up working "unofficially" as his assistant, which meant that she herself was effectively a teenage private detective.

The three core elements of the series were: 1) Veronica investigating each week's big mystery with plenty of quips and snark, 2) Watching Veronica's various relationships develop and shift, with most of the focus given to a) her relationship to her father and b) Her romantic pursuits (which began as the Veronica/Duncan/Logan triangle before eventually becoming focused on the slow-burn, off-on Veronica/Logan love story), and 3) The gradual development of that season's "mytharc" — the overarching BIG MYSTERY that doesn't get resolved or wrapped until the season finale. So it went over the course of two seasons that took place in high school and the third, shorter season that was at the start of Veronica's collegiate career.)

Just how big and how passionate were the Marshmallows? WELL! When series creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 guy) and star Kristen Bell announced the Kickstarter campaign for the Veronica Mars movie in March 2013, it achieved its heretofore-unprecedented goal of TWO MILLION GODDAMN DOLLARS within less than 12 hours. At that time, it was the biggest Kickstarter goal to ever succeed — and certainly the fastest to reach that kind of height. Fans fell OVER themselves to pay out for it. Hell, my own significant other was DEEP in the tank for VM at the time and invested enough to get multiple t-shirts as backer rewards as well as a disk copy of the movie when it eventually came home.

And AFTER the movie hit in 2014? It was thankfully beloved and embraced! The once-teenage characters were adults who were actually out living on their own and working for a living, but the fandom had grown up with them, so it wasn't like they were begging for them to stay young students. They embraced Adult Veronica and her new adventure. The fandom rejoiced loudly and continued to be all over the geek side of the Internet... where they, of course, still wanted more. Sure, there were new novels in the aftermath (which were written by the creator of the series), but most of the Marshmallows were calling for more movies or a streaming revival.

And then, at long last... season four was actually announced. And there was much (premature) rejoicing yet again.

Yes, Veronica Mars returned for a fourth season on Hulu in 2019. It was just eight episodes, and it was heavily centered on one season-long mystery instead of sprinkling that amongst a bunch of smaller ones, but it would still feature the same ol' Veronica. They promised a new, more "adult" mystery/investigation plus a strong focus on Veronica and Logan's love story.

New Hulu purchased the rights to the first three seasons and hyped up its presence on the platform while marketing the return for the new run. The marketing team played up the most popular quips from the show's history plus put out TONS of stuff centered on the Logan/Veronica ship to pump up the fans.

The season was dropped all at once using the classic Netflix "binge" model in July 2019. And then... afterwards?

There was a brief explosion of LOUD RAGE from the Marshmallows at what series creator Rob Thomas had to done to burn and spite the fandom and ruin his own goodwill.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: See, at the end of the movie, Veronica and Logan finally entered into a long-term relationship. In season four, they've been dating for years, and Logan proposes marriage. But of course there has to be drama/obstacles: In this case, Veronica isn't sure she's ready to marry... or capable of being in a marriage. Ah, but of course she eventually realizes how much Logan means to her. The two are married, and, in the season finale... Logan is killed by a car bomb in the penultimate scene. The final scene is a flashfoward to a year later, where Veronica leaves Neptune alone.

For most fandoms, that'd be a memorable point of pain. A big ol' speed bump that ultimately throws some people off the bus, leaving only the die-hards. But the fact that fans had been invested in this relationship for literally 15 years and that Hulu (and creator Rob Thomas) had heavily marketed the new season as being a big romantic event for the ship... it was too much. Unlike the aftermath of the Star Wars sequels, there was no lingering group of die-hard fans who were open to whatever was next — at least no significant one. I did some Googling and could only find TWO people who still wanted another season.

Funnily enough? Critics LOVED this. Hell, Vanity Fair infamously penned an editorial about how Veronica Mars had "finally grown up" with this finale. I suppose all the other murders and deaths and drug overdoses and r*pe weren't "mature" enough before now for... some... reason. (The same editorial also featured the author openly hating on Veronica ever being in a relationship because it causes "arrested development" and declaring that the movie -- which was acclaimed by both critics AND fans alike, I remind you -- was a lame dud. So. The writer must be a reeeaaaal fun person.)

But a series doesn't live based on critical acclaim, as it turns out. The fandom was murdered overnight. "Marshmallows" stopped appearing in geek spaces online entirely. No one expressed interest in seeing the next season or the next movie. The constant flow of fan AMVs on YouTube and fanfics on AO3 dried up to nothing or damn nearly so.

Since 2019 ? Nothing. Chirping crickets. An intensely dedicated fandom of 12 years was just... vaporized.

I've never seen anything like it before OR since.

That's why it's so fucking fascinating.

So what went wrong?

Creator Rob Thomas was adamant about two things: ONE, the series was intended to be a noir show, which meant there couldn't be any happiness for its protagonist. And TWO, the death of Logan was necessary to evolve and grow the series.

Thomas thought that having Veronica in a relationship would be holding her back, and that a marriage would absolutely kill the series and leave her stagnant. It never even occurred to him that marriage isn't the end of a character's life and growth. It never occurred to him that plenty of drama can be had AFTER someone is married, or that development/growth could be that the characters mature enough to be capable of maintaining a committed relationship. Thomas' view of his own universe was so myopic that he couldn't conceive of any possible way that Veronica could still be a private detective involved in life-threatening investigations AND be married at the same time. Futhermore, he felt that fans just wanted Veronica to become a pregnant housewife, which is about as far from what Marshmallows were after as you can get without straight-up killing Veronica and/or Logan. He managed to do the only thing wronger than what he wrongly thought was their insistence.

On top of the above, Rob Thomas only viewed "noir" as a vehicle for total fatalism... despite the fact that many of the most famous noir stories are cynical and full of moral ambiguity, but they still feature a positive outcome. The Big Sleep still has the protagonist get the girl. The Set-Up arguably ends with the happiest possible ending in spite of the beating the hero receives.

Perhaps most importantly? Despite Thomas own insistence that Veronica Mars was always "noir," the majority of both TV critics and fans did not think that designation ever truly applied. I suspect that's the reason why Thomas decided to go as dark and fatalistic as possible: He wanted to be noir, and he was being told that he wasn't. So he went so far into noir that he killed his own most popular property.

He was adamant that it was the only way for the series to grow. But as it turns out, it was instead the only way for the series to permanently end. Without that season four finale, a passionate group of fans would still be begging for more. With it? It's over. Nobody fucking cares now.

That's kind of amazing.

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Sunday wants to invite you to dinner. ...Correction: Sunday will invite you to dinner. Even if there are a few loopholes to get through first. wc: 1.1k

part 1 / part 2

---

Sunday finds it quite unfortunate that the salvation of the world must sometimes be assured through cruelty. It wounds him when he must be cutthroat, must be stern in his ways, but he does it all the same. Even the gravest of sins shall be absolved in the eternity of the dream he chases, and Sunday knows no man to enact this sin besides himself.

...In short, manipulation is no stranger to the head of the Oak Family.

You're nearly tripping on your heels again when your boss runs into you, lighting up at your presence in a way you have to decidedly ignore. It's unprofessional to dwell on it—You hate even the notion of being unprofessional. After all you've worked towards, every hour you've busted your ass off to get to work as secretary for one of the most important people in Penacony, the thought of ruining it by being unprofessional makes you want to fill a bathtub with SoulGlad and let yourself drown in it.

"Good morning, Mr. Oak," you greet him, once he's within speaking range. There's a million papers and manila folders in your arms, all cobbled together with clips and staples, and you hold them at your chest almost like a sort of shield. Hours upon hours of your work rests within this stack of papers, thousands of words worth of reports and number-crunching and printed out messages between Family Heads. Sunday makes a point to look you right in the eye, and it's a gaze you swear you'll never get used to.

You don't know what the look in his eyes mean—Sunday takes great pleasure in keeping the meaning from you.

There's a plenty good amount of things he prefers to keep to himself (as is only proper for someone of his responsibility), and the images his mind likes to conjure only flip past like cards in a rolodex as he sneaks a glance at the body hiding behind the papers. He smiles, but not any bigger than he would smile to anyone else. Not yet.

"Good morning, [Y/N]," Sunday coos. "Working out of the office as usual, I see? Please, if there's any reason for you to avoid it I must know."

Flush with embarrassment, you shake your head. It's just easier to make sure everything gets done when you're always walking, you find. You hate being kept places, being forced to sit and hear the second-hand of a clock constantly chatter behind your back. When you're walking, your heels set the pace instead, at whatever you need it to be. You're only indebted to your own ethic, which you hold in high regard.

"Oh, the office is perfectly fine, Mr. Oak," you stammer out, fingers drumming on the stack of papers. "I just like the stained glass on some of the third floor hallways of Dewlight. The, uh— The fountains add a nice atmosphere, too." You panic, adding "It's a really wonderful building, sir. I'm honored to work here."

Sunday nods. He'll have to order for new windows and a fountain to be put in his office the second the moment arrives. A meeting with Whittaker Nightingale was in order, clearly—He'd understand the situation.

"Please, dear, if anyone here should be honoured it's me," Sunday smiles. He passes to stand beside you rather than in front of, catching a glimpse of the way your hair falls over your shoulders. "Can I discuss something with you for a moment, if you'll allow?"

Sunday takes the initiative to place one hand on the small of your back, the other clasped behind his own. The touch makes you flinch—You grab tight onto your papers, hoping they won't spill out in a burst from the way you nearly jumped in place. "Gosh, Mr. Oak, I don't really think this is necessary—" On the outside, his face is stern, perhaps even disappointed with your tendencies to act like a stickler. Internally, he's more concerned with how often you spurn his affections: At his core, however? He wants to hold his hand against you until he dies.

"Please," he whispers, almost commanding you. "Walk with me." Sunlight streams in through the windows of the Dewlight Pavilion, pockets of gold dancing on the marble floors.

"You've gotten in touch with the Alfalfa family, as I requested?"

Panicking, you leaf through the papers you had kept clutched to your chest to search for any notes or documents relating to that. Unfortunately, your anxieties are valid: You did not. Sunday doesn't let on that he's lying to you. He asked you to reach out to some bureaucrat working for SoulGlad, but nothing to do with Oti or any of the Alfafas. But you're forgetful, and he loves that about you. Not as much as he values your eagerness to please, though.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Oak. It must've slipped my mind." You spent the whole day organizing the catering for the Charmony Festival, and your papers corroborate this.

"Please, I could never fault you," he smiles. "It'll be taken care of tomorrow."

Sunday bites his lip as he feels the back of your shirt brush against his hand. If he was any less of a man with any less of a reputation to uphold, he'd have it comfortably in the back pocket of your pants. He goes on, to get to the real purpose of this informal meeting with you.

"Would you be interested in discussing things over dinner?"

Your breath stalls for a moment.

"I— I'm sure sending today's report electronically should be just fine, sir."

Sir. It's a word he's been addressed by many lips, but every utterance pales in comparison to this singular moment.

"It would be my pleasure."

"I'm not sure I even have anything that would suit the occasion," you confess.

"I can arrange for something to be sent to you."

A particular nausea pools in your gut: a feeling so light, so painlessly ignorable that even worrying that it's gas feels like an overreaction. Meetings over dinner are professional, and at a rank like Sunday's, it's entirely reasonable that you conform to a certain dress code—one that he knows much better than you, no doubt. Sending something for you to wear would only be logical if it meant preserving that image of his.

(And he had been peculiar about dress in the past: No heels could be too tall or too short, pants were preferred but knee-length skirts were permissible, Oak insignia patches visible on every blazer, such and the like. Surely, this was nothing new.)

"If you find that to be within your purview, Mr. Oak," is what you manage to respond with. "...I'll make myself presentable."

"Don't fret too much over it, [Y/N]," Sunday smiles. "I fully trust in your abilities to uphold our reputations." 'Our'.

You force yourself to not dwell on it.

---

A/N: If anyone has feedback, please share it with me!! Obviously some artistic license has to be made for the premise to work but hopefully it's nothing too egregious :,)

[0kurakura0]

Case Files Pt.1 (intro)

Simon Riley "Ghost" x UN lawyer Reader

TF 141 receives a visit from a UN prosecutor working at the ICC. This overworked prosecutor is trying to build a case against war criminals and must team up with them to catch these criminals. Along the way, they may even catch feelings for a brooding soldier. slow-burn, M/F, mention of law terms, Human rights violation (genocide), cursing

>> Part 2

The dim, sterile lights of the briefing room flickered overhead as the members of Task Force 141 gathered around the table along with Core, a fellow private military group that was hired along with 141 for a mission. Soap MacTavish leaned forward, eyes locked on the Price as he gave the mission report, his fingers drumming quietly on the polished surface. Price, ever the sentinel, stood at the center of the room along with Leopold; the captain of Core a fellow private military company. Ghost remained an imposing figure at the far end of the room leaning against the side wall. Gaz who was sitting in the seat next to Price listened in on the report on their course of action as well as all information gathered on their target. 

"Intel checks out," Soap muttered, his accent thick with the fatigue of too many nights spent in hostile territory. "I think we’ve got it locked down."

Price didn't respond immediately, waiting for the Core captain to add any information on their part. "Just keep sharp. We're not totally out of the blue just yet," Price said.

“Not much to worry about, luckily, but who knows, maybe if we find these bastards as fast as we can, we can have some fun with them,” Leopold snickers in a sadistic tone. 141 just staring at him with disdain in their eyes. Even though they are fellow operatives in this mission, 141 and Core did not see eye to eye on matters surrounding how they handled the enemy combatants. While 141 would be over and done with it. Core, they came to find out they were ruthless and would like to “play” with the enemy, much to the discomfort of others. 

“Prick,” Ghost rumbles under his breath, low enough that it couldn't be heard. 

Before anyone could reply, the door swung open, and all operatives in the room shot from their seats at the sudden interruption. Two armed guards came in and following after them a woman wearing a suit that screamed of legal authority rather than combat experience walked in. The woman’s eyes flicked across the room, taking in each of them, her gaze cold and unwavering.

"Hello Gentleman, I do hope I'm not interrupting at a bad time but I have a pressing issue at the moment" the lawyer’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. Not waiting for an invitation, stepping fully into the room, and looking directly at Price and Leopold.

"Excuse me?" Leapold barked, his brows furrowing as he straightened, clearly not amused. "And who exactly are you? And what the fuck are you doing here?”

The lawyer didn’t flinch at the sudden hostility. "I’m ___, a lawyer assigned by the United Nations to prosecute violations of international law," she said, her voice laced with authority. "I’m here on a matter of grave importance. It seems there have been violations in more ways than one."

Price exchanged glances with Ghost, each sensing the impending storm. "What’s this about?" Price asked, his tone sharp but controlled.

___ walking further into the long table in the middle and held up a folder, its contents heavy with the weight of documents, before dropping it onto the center table "Leopold O'Reilly you are being detained on violations of International Humanitarian laws along with all other soldiers under the command of the Private Military Company “Core”," she said, letting the words sink in. "Violated the Geneva Conventions, among other things. you’ll either face prosecution or give up your position and pay a hefty fine. The decision is yours, but I’m here to make sure that happens and you're brought in." She says as the 2 armed guards come around cuffing Leopold, 

“What the fuck do you mean violation I haven't done shit, and Im a private actor, not a state, so the Geneva Conventions don't apply to me,” Leopold screams at the lady as he struggles against the 2 guards. 

“Under certain circumstances, yes, but 3 years ago, you were hired by a state official in Nigeria to clear out a village to make way for oil drilling in the area where you were not, and while there, it was reported that your team violated multiple human rights law including the violation of the 1948 genocide convention, and since you where hired by a state official you are considered a state actor under contract,” ___ states with a cold glare towards Leopold. As she motions her head to the 2 guards to escort him out.

"You can't Fucking do this to me- fuck stop let me go!" Leopold yells as he's dragged out of the room by the guards.

“Hold, you can't just come barging in here like this,” Soap says as he stands up, half yelling at the lawyer.

___ not flinching turns to him saying. "This is a matter of international law, and as of now out of yalls hands. So unless you want to see the rest of your operation crumble under legal scrutiny, I suggest you start taking this seriously and just let me do my job,"

The room seemed to freeze, the air thick with the weight of her words. Ghost’s gloved hands tightened into fists, his gaze never leaving ___. The lawyer wasn’t backing down. She had a mission, and She would not be swayed.

Price stepped forward, his voice low but filled with command. "We have a mission that we are carrying out. We can't just up and stop this. You think you can just waltz in here and disrupt everything we’ve worked on?"

___ met his gaze head-on. "I don’t care about your mission. What I care about is justice. And that’s what you’re going to face, whether you like it or not," she says, ending the conversation as she turns around leaving the room. 

Price’s phone rings soon after. “Laswell, what the bloody hell is going on right now?” He half yells through the phone. 

“Sorry, John, I guess you just met the reason for my call,” Laswell says from the other side of the phone, sighing. “That was __ a UN litigator. It seems like they are starting to push harder to crack down on violations by sending out their dogs to bring them in. And Leopold was apparently on the top of their list. I tried to call you about the situation as soon as I caught word, but seems I was just a tad bit late,” 

Price grumbles “So what do we do now?”

“Nothing, the mission is being called off, think of it as an early break let off to go home,” Laswell says in a monotone voice before ending the call.

Soap leans over looking over to Ghost with one of his trademark grins. “Well that was something,” he says with a chuckle. “But I will have to say seeing a lassie like that being so commanding is kinda hot, ain't it LT,” he says.

Ghost looks at him with annoyance through his mask, saying, “Can it, Johnny” as he pushes off the wall, leaving the room annoyed with the whole situation. Thinking back to the lawyer. Hoping for his annoyance that he doesn't have to deal with that shit again.

Okay hey, y'all this is my first fic ever so not the best but will edit and add more here and there as I figure out what I'm meant to do and how this app works lol.

I'm always open to little imagine ideas or other stuff. but this fic will take some time also will make a masterlist for it as soon as I figure it all out.

but yeah hope you like this kinda a law nerd but to make it interesting it's not 100% accurate but if I can help it I will be in some.

[tokoyamisstuff]

What would happen if every Iscariot's vampire hunter had to lose their virginity before joining the service, to avoid becoming a vampire? Anderson would have to do it too. However, he was unlucky enough to have a child from a single sex encounter. And he discovered this fact only years later.

Anderson, who has been losing his humanity for years, is once again faced with his ordinariness – despite being a priest, a hunter, and a devout Christian.

I love your works. Thank you for being there. I have never read such works before, but your work has inspired me to start reading more, and I doubt I'll ever stop. I love it. Thank you. Really.

Oh gosh I love love LOVE that idea! Deserves multiple chapters honestly but I know myself, I'd abandon it...

Anyways thank you so much for the feedback, it really made my day! I'm incredibly glad you enjoy yourself! 💌

Anemoia

[n.] nostalgia for a time or a place one has never known

2,5k. words | f! Reader | no warnings | pre-canon | not proofread

They were told not to return until the deed was committed.

Most of his fellow Iscariot members made quick work of the task, visiting a brothel to just get it over with. The thought alone sickened Anderson to the core, but it was not his place to intervene.

Others never returned after getting a taste of the forbidden fruit, may it be the glimpse of a fulfilling life ahead or simply the affectionate embrace of a lover that made them cast aside their loyalty.

Whatever it was doesn't matter in the end. They were a disgrace, weakminded fools that exchanged the honor of serving a greater purpose for some feeble satisfaction.

Anderson used to judge them heavily, loathe them even, to the point that he swore his blade would not remain unused shall he ever run into one of those traitors...

...that was until he almost became one of them.

How could he ever forget?

The Paladin remembers your first encounter as if it was yesterday. Back then he was still a naive young acolyte, not less zealous in his faith as he is today but certainly a better man than what he had turned into.

Purging the world from sin beyond human comprehension inevitably corrupts even the purest of souls.

Such was his duty, his calling, all he ever knew and wanted to do.

Not once before had he struggled with temptation, if anything he was the most strict when it came to obeyeing the rules of the book.

So obviously indulging in carnal pleasure was something he just couldn't bring himself to do, no matter how he tried to rationalize the necessity of it. To him it was a mental block keeping him from going against his teachings, feeling like it would erase a central part of himself if he did.

But then he found you.

There was an old, barely visited library at the border of a small town Anderson had made his personal sanctuary until he found a solution to his predicament. He visited daily, spending hours escaping reality through busying himself in written words but that particular day his usual spot was taken.

A stunningly beautiful woman was sitting at the huge windowsill, buried in one of his favourite books as the raindrops drumming against the glass were scattering the faint daylight across her skin.

You noticed that he was staring way before he did so himself, a gentle smile spreading across your face as you scooted over and pat the free spot next to you. He reluctantly obeyed as you waved for him to come, slightly taken aback by the random act of kindness towards a rather intimidating stranger like him.

No words were spoken the whole afternoon as you read besides each other, exchanging subtle glances and occasional timid smiles. Your interest in him was obvious, as was his, yet internally he was spending this whole time fighting against an odd warmth that was spreading through chest, seeping into his guts and wrapping his brain in cotton.

This must be a sign from god. Yes, surely you were sent here to resolve this conflict keeping him from returning to fight alongsides his brethren.

If it needs to be done either way, then so be it.

He'd be damned to take advantage of a lady like you were one, though. You deserved to be courted properly first.

And so he began playing this dangerous game, kept ignoring his conscience and doubts and instead telling himself that this was the best way to operate.

The Alexander you got to know was a true cavalier, and besides many attributes his gentle soul you admired the most. You'd spend countless dates together, sharing enriching conversations and heartfelt experiences.

Each time he told himself the next time you'd meet he'd get it over with, but deep down he never wanted this to end.

At some point though you grew weary of his endearing hesitation, deciding to make the first move and oh the mind is willing but the flesh is weak.

Only when he found himself lying in the aftermath, your body enveloped with his and feeling as content and at peace as never before, he finally snapped out of this pleasant daydream.

At that point he knew he had to stop this at once, or he'd completely lose himself and drag you down with him.

Anderson couldn't allow himself to be this happy. It was wrong in the eyes of the Lord, and especially towards you it wasn't fair. You did not know what kind of beast you truly had invited to bed - no, love you.

This was not the kind of life he could ever imagine himself taking part in. Truth be told, he never knew he wanted to be until now that it was so enticingly in reach.

Ah, that's what this is: You were his final test before he'd ascend this pathetic humanity and become one of god's chosen holy warriors.

Ultimatively, just like this, he disappeared from your life as sudden as he had become part of it, scattering your heart in the process.

That was ten years ago.

Even now not a day goes by that Anderson isn't haunted by the memory of your smile in his dreams, the ghost of your touch under his palms and your balmy lips mending him to the core.

He never regretted his decision, certain you had long since forgotten about the bastard that deceived you and led the happy life you deserved.

To him however you'd always have a special place in his heart, the last remnant of humanity, grounding him during moments he felt more akin to the monsters he fought than the people he swore to protect.

What a coincidence that he has a mission so close to the town you had met in the past...god sure works in mysterious ways.

Finding himself reminiscing as he strolls across a cobbled path of the public garden he can't help the enamored smile playing on his lips, wondering what you've been up to these days. He's been praying for your well-being every single day, being the first thought after waking up and the last before closing his eyes to sleep.

You on the other hand almost spit out your drink as you saw him just casually appearing here again, eyes raking up and down his tall form several times until you're sure you aren't hallucinating or confusing him with someone.

Time sure had taken a toll on him, but that doesn't make him any less attractive. In the past you had only ever seen him with civilian clothes, but the distinct golden cross he refused to take off even in the shower you'd recognize anywhere. Your gaze gets stuck on the clerical collar adorning his neck, and together with his priestly attire realization eventually dawns on you.

All accusations die on your tongue when his eyes lock with yours, the whole situation so bizarre that the flood of conflicting emotions overwhelmed you.

One could think ten years are more than enough time to forgive, but forgetting is a completely different story.

Anderson freezes in his tracks upon seeing you, his mind instantly turned into a caleidoscope of shock and shame. For a moment he considered to just keep walking, fleeing rather, aware that there's nothing he could do or say to make up for what he's done.

Yet his heart betrayed his reason, giving in to this pull he felt towards you even after all this time. His feet moved as if they had their own will, hastily approaching you out of fear you might leave.

Your bottom lip quivered as you tried to keep your composure, looking up to the man that awkwardly towered in front of you. "Alexander" you scoffed, glaring daggers at him. "Or should I call you 'Father Anderson' now?"

"N-No, the first name is just fine, I mean...I..." he ran a hand through his hair, puffing out a strained breath as his words began to fail him. "I'm glad to see you're well."

"Are you really, though?" You cross your arms in front of your chest, the little crack in your voice sending a pang of guilt straight to his chest. "Didn't seem like you cared this past decade."

Despite your hostile demeanour Anderson hesistantly sat down next to you on the bench, groaning in frustration with himself. "That's- that's not true...it's hard to explain.."

"Spare me the excuses, it's far too late for that." You sigh as you glanced over to the man besides you again, wanting to scream and slap and shake him but you couldn't bring yourself to do so. He was a perfect image of misery, drowning in self-loathing as he should. Seeing him at least genuinely feeling bad for his actions appeased you in some way, so at least for now you refrained from reproaching him any further.

There was a strained silence that encoated both of you, and yet you couldn't deny the familiarity of each other's closeness.

In a way, it felt like no time had passed at all.

"So...have you always been a priest, or was I really so terrible that I drove you into celibacy?" you joked, making him chuckle a bit ashamed.

"Of course not. Neither of it. I was destined for this position long before I met you, but then..." he trails off, but you understood what he was implying.

Anderson folds his hands in his lap, tearing his eyes away from the ground to look at you. He was undeniably tormented by remorse, but there was a hint of something else in his features.

"I was fond of you, I really was." He still is. "You are an amazing woman, really. But it's more complicated than you think. This life...just wasn't for me."

Your expression softens significantly at his confession, but that didn't make up for even a fraction of what you've been through because of him.

All those years you had tried desperately to find him, but he was lost without a trace. You always wondered if he left because of you, or if he had really deceived you all this time. At least finally understanding the reason made you find some sort of peace with what happened.

"You're an asshole" you say anyways, and he nods in aggreement. "That was just cruel. You could've just talked to me or at least left a note. Anything but this!"

"I know, I know...but I was scared that I'd forget about my vows as soon as I look into your eyes again, like so many times before. I'm so incredibly sorry, you have no idea..."

Before either of you could continue the conversation, you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around, dreading what you know comes next.

"Mooom, can you give me some money for the icecream truck?" The boy pleads with you when suddenly his attention falls on the man sitting awfully close to you. "Who's that?"

Anderson's face becomes chalk-white at the sight of the young boy wrapping his arms around you from behind, pecking a small kiss on your cheek that makes you snicker. He's got your facial structure that's for sure - but those wild ash-blond spikes and defiant emerald eyes hit him like a train.

All the things he's seen and done but this is what pushes him towards his breaking point.

"Oh, him?" Your eyes nervously dart between Alexander and your son, stuttering "Umm...that's Father Alexander Anderson, an old friend of mine."

"A friend?" His brows furrow in confusion as he had never seen him before. "You're friends with priests?"

You huff out a gentle laughter, ruffling the boy's hair much to his protest. "There's a lot you don't know about your mother. Now be polite and say hello!"

"Hello, sir." You watch proudly as the boy stretches out his hand for your aquaintace to shake. "I'm Nathaniel."

Nathaniel. Means 'gift from god'. Oh you.

Anderson's hand shake violently as he takes your son's way smaller one, eyes glossy with blinked back tears. "How-" he gulps harshly, giving his very best to appear calm despite his raging panic attack. "How old are ye, lad?"

"Almost 10!" he practically beams at the priest, blissfully unaware of this meaningful encounter. "Well...next year."

"He's very tall for his age" you remark, smirking almost a bit gleeful. "Got his father's genes."

"...I see..." Alexander squeezes the boy's hand ever so slightly before letting go, his index finger tugging on his collar that began to feel awfully suffocating. "Nice to meet you, boy. You're not causing your mother any trouble, aren't ye?"

"Of course not!" His offended reaction lured a timid chuckle to escape Anderson's throat, which you joined in as well. "Well then I guess someone's earned his icecream, am I right?"

One hand disappeared under his coat, and from the corner of your eye you could've sworn to see threatening steel beneath it. He pulled out his wallet, handing the boy a generous amount of pocket money.

"Thank you, mister!" the boy cheers, happily running off as he chirps something about how you should invite him more often. Watching your son safely arriving at the playground in the midst of the park you lean onto the backrest of the bench, cracking a placable smile. "You're surprisingly good with children."

"I-I...actually, I run an orphanage back at the Vatican." Voicing it made the absurdity of the situation crush him like a ton of bricks. All those years he lovingly raised so many children while his own alledged flesh and blood - and the love of his life - were struggling to get by. And yet while the thought of having a biological child may be terrifying considering his circumstances, having it with you of all people feels like a blessing nonetheless. "Is-is he really-"

"Don't you dare asking that question." You clutch the fabric of your shirt into a tight fist and your hurt expression makes his stomach churn. "Just look at him! He's your carbon copy."

"Yes, yes...he's perfect. Sorry...it's just..." he buries his face in his hands, unable to look at you any longer. "God, I ruined your life..."

"No you didn't" you spoke, voice firm and sincere. "It was my own choice, and Nathaniel is the best thing that could ever happen to me."

You put a reassuring hand on Anderson's shoulder, and he stared at you unbelieving yet in sheer reverence of your virtue. Suddenly he pulls you into a bear hug, letting out a shuddered breath into the crook of your neck. "Thank you for taking care of my wee boy..."

"He's a good kid" you whisper, hands finding rest on his back. "Well of course he is, no wonder with a mother like you. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Anderson slowly composes himself again, but his hands remain possessively on your shoulders. "I-I know I have no right to ask, but...could I visit him- the two of you?"

"That was my wish to begin with. No matter what happened between us, you're his father. You have every right to be a part of his life if you want to take responsibility."

"You have no idea how much that means to me..." Anderson clasps your hand with his gloved ones, his eyes intense yet loving as he solemny swears "We'll figure it out. I might not be able to make up for the lost time, but from now on, no matter what, I'll be there for you both!"

[day6source]

it's that time again! how insane is it to be getting another comeback!? if you haven't heard yet, 'band aid' will be arriving to us soon, september 2nd, 2024! just like before, i'll be keeping things all updated from written interviews to videos! keep an eye out and save the link if you're wanting to keep up and want some easy reference! 화이팅!

SHOPPING

as always, below are options for where to buy! most of them are online shops linked directly from twitter, as well as a few places i personally like to buy from that have pretty good prices. i did my best to include mostly international sites (they default to english) for the main set provided by jyp. if you have any sites used in your country feel free to send them and i'll add the links in (these are american centric given i'm in america haha).

STANDARD VERSION (*indicates a pre-order benefit):

THE JYP SHOP* ꕤ YES24 ꕤ WITH MUU* ꕤ APPLE MUSIC ꕤ MUSIC PLANT* ꕤ MUSIC KOREA* ꕤ BLUE DREAM MEDIA* ꕤ ALADDIN ꕤ SUBK SHOP* ꕤ MUSIC PLAZA* ꕤ CHOICE MUSIC LA* ꕤ KPOP TOWN ꕤ KTOWN4U

PLATFORM NEMO VERSION:

THE JYP SHOP* ꕤ YES24 ꕤ WITH MUU ꕤ APPLE MUSIC ꕤ MUSIC PLANT ꕤ MUSIC KOREA ꕤ BLUE DREAM MEDIA ꕤ ALADDIN ꕤ SUBK SHOP ꕤ MUSIC PLAZA ꕤ CHOICE MUSIC LA ꕤ KPOP TOWN ꕤ KTOWN4U

LISTENING

APPLE MUSIC ꕤ SPOTIFY ꕤ AMAZON MUSIC ꕤ BUGS! ꕤ DEEZER ꕤ FLO ꕤ GENIE ꕤ ITUNES STORE ꕤ MELON ꕤ PANDORA ꕤ TIDAL ꕤ YOUTUBE MUSIC ꕤ YOUTUBE VIDEO PLAYLIST

WATCHING

below is all of the content to watch!! m/v's, concerts, promo stuff, performances!! if it pertains to the album it goes here!

Forever Young Concert

DOWNLOAD LINK

OFFICIAL VIDEOS

ALBUM RELEASE TEASER ꕤ CONCEPT FILM TEASER ꕤ CONCEPT FILM ꕤ ALBUM PRODUCTION PART #1 ꕤ ALBUM PRODUCTION #2 ꕤ ALBUM SAMPLER ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' MV TEASER #1 ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' MV TEASER #2 ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' MV ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' SING ALONG GUIDE WITH MY DAY ꕤ 'BAND AID' JACKET MAKING FILM ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' MV MAKING FILM ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' REACTION WITH MY DAY ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' STUDIO LIVE VERSION ꕤ 'MONSTER' STUDIO LIVE VERSION

PERFORMANCES

MCOUNTDOWN 240905: COMEBACK INTERVIEW ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' PERFORMANCE ꕤ SUNGJIN CAM ꕤ YOUNG K CAM ꕤ WONPIL CAM ꕤ DOWOON CAM ꕤ ꕤ SUNGJIN FANCAM ꕤ YOUNG K FANCAM ꕤ WONPIL FANCAM ꕤ DOWOON FANCAM ꕤ PERFORMANCE BEHIND THE SCENES PHOTOS ꕤ DOWOON DRUM CAM

MUSIC BANK 240906: 'MELT DOWN' PERFORMANCE ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' FULL CAM ꕤ SUNGJIN CAM ꕤ YOUNG K CAM ꕤ WONPIL CAM ꕤ DOWOON CAM

SHOW! MUSIC CORE 240907: 'MELT DOWN' PERFORMANCE ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' FULL CAM ꕤ SUNGJIN CAM ꕤ YOUNG K CAM ꕤ WONPIL CAM ꕤ DOWOON CAM ꕤ SUNGJIN FAVORITE CAM ꕤ YOUNG K FAVORITE CAM ꕤ WONPIL FAVORITE CAM ꕤ DOWOON FAVORITE CAM ꕤ PERFORMANCE BEHIND THE SCENES PHOTOS ꕤ BEHIND THE SCENES VIDEO

INKIGAYO 240908: 'MELT DOWN' PERFORMANCE ꕤ 'MELT DOWN' FULL CAM ꕤ SUNGJIN CAM ꕤ YOUNG K CAM ꕤ WONPIL CAM ꕤ DOWOON CAM ꕤ YOUNG K FACE CAM ꕤ DOWOON FACE CAM ꕤ PERFORMANCE BEHIND THE SCENES PHOTOS

PROMOTIONAL VIDEOS

IU's PALETTE ꕤ 'CONGRATULATIONS' @ IU'S PALETTE ꕤ YOUNG K ON BDNS ꕤ TIKTOK CHALLENGES

READING

MELON SPOTLIGHT

[p1nkshield]

Hello Party People and welcome to chapter 5 of a fanfic based on a prompt! We have a title!

At the Core

Jason realized what he just did. Why did he just chug some toxic green substance? Why did he listen to a child about what is good to consume? He’s also a ghost kid! Who knows how poisonous that was! Why did it taste like fancy soda?

Jason managed to sift through his confusion and ask his father.

“What was that I just drank?”

Bruce took a moment to gather himself, there were so many things that confused him today and he really did not enjoy this feeling of perpetual bewilderment.

“That, was an unidentified liquid we confiscated from the obviously incompetent guys in white.”

Danny bristled at the mention of the organization. Jason placed a hand on Danny’s tiny head in a show of comfort.

Bruce continued.

“In my attempts at analysis I’ve found that the substance is extremely corrosive. The steel drums they were keeping it in were almost as thin as paper and just as weak. The end of my micropipette melted as soon as I inserted it into the liquid, the acrylic slides I managed to get it on melted in seconds and the only effective containment has been these custom made ampules.”

“Hmm.” Jason grew more and more pale as Bruce explained the volatility of what he just imbibed. Bruce does not exaggerate. Danny seemed to be the only calm one, continuing to sip on his replacement juice box getting the verdant equivalent of a milk mustache.

“You should currently be suffering severe internal chemical burns.”

“Hmm.”

From what Jason could tell…He was not suffering severe internal chemical burns.

“Hmm.” Dang it, now he was starting to sound like Bruce. Before he could truly spiral into the what ifs of this situation he was interrupted by several small yawns.

“Poor Danny, look at him! I should get him to bed right now! I guess we have to figure this out later!”

Jason’s escape plan was met with protests from both Bruce and Danny. It was too little too late though, Jason was already football carrying Danny to the exit of the bat cave.

Jason’s escape wasn’t much of one. He’d have to take the time to apologize to Alfred for all the grief he’d given him at bed time.

Danny woke up with a start in an unfamiliar place and on an unfamiliar bed. It was far too soft and far too big. He instinctively reached for his hair. It was white and wispy. Now this is bad. He didn’t know where he was or why he was in ghost form. Something else wasn’t right. His hand was too small.

“What?” Danny’s voice was too high pitched for his liking. He stumbled into the en-suite attached to the room and the reflection that met him was a ten year old Danny. That is, if the accident happened four years earlier than normal. Before he could stop himself he let out a surprised yelp and crashed to the ground.

“Danny? Danny! What’s going on? Kid?” A voice called from the hall and quickly made its way towards him. A large man entered the room with a surprisingly frantic look on his face.

Oh it’s just Jason.

Jason? This man’s presence signaled safety in Danny’s mind. Like he had spent a considerable amount of time with him.

Something’s happened.

“You’re Jason right? I don’t really remember everything that happened in the last few days. The only thing I do know right now is that you feel trustworthy.”

Jason blinked as all of this information hit him like a brick wall. The kid he was entrusted to watch had visibly aged over night. Kids don’t normally do that.

“Yeah… I’m Jason.”

“Great! Could you tell m-”

Danny paused his attempt to float only resulted in a hop. He was still on the ground. This is bad. Danny attempted to float again to some success, only to stumble back onto his feet.

“You can fly?” Jason asked with genuine surprise.

“You can’t?” Danny returned his inquiry with genuine confusion.

“No, I can’t.” Jason said matter-of-factly

“I feel like you should be able to fly. That’s like the base stats dude.” Danny looked appraisingly at Jason, who looked just as quizzically at him.

“I’m not a meta or a ghost like you so no, I cannot fly.”

Jason could feel himself getting slightly annoyed at this line of questioning.

“Two corrections. I am actually half ghost.” Danny proved his point by letting a ring of light split and wash over him leaving a raven haired, blue eyed kid in the ghost’s place. “And so are you.”

Jason took a moment to school his surprised expression. “Sure thing sailor moon.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment! Also, it’s true?! I can tell you have a heart beat but too much ectoplasm for a normal human to survive.” Danny continued to look at him for a moment. “Welcome to the club. Also, this may be a personal question but, where’s your core?”

Jason was getting tired of being confused. “What do you mean where’s my core?”

@addie-lover-of-stories @impulsiveasshole @soren1830 @psycoaces21 @tired-yet-awaken @avelnfear @cat-in-a-fedora @overtherose @mewzaque @icecweme @jaytriesstuff @naluforever3 @nappinginhell @terzatheunderscorerima @currant-owo @dontfightmecauseillcry @nixthenerd @pheonixqueen @sarina-elais @wanderer-of-worlds @regressor-marina @sunflowershine03 @sailor-goddess @yjfk @coruscateselene @stargazer-luna @phandomhyperfixationblog

[000marie198]

It's done. Phew *passes out* here, please accept this little prologue, I've planned a multichapter for this.

Here's my entry to Nine Tailed Travel Guide Through the Multiverse. Juuuust short of time running out. Takes place in Synergy Au

.

.

Unsynched

The sea lit up in a thunderous white flash, lightning striking the mountaineous waves with vengeance, their turbulent surface swallowing million tiny craters and being struck by million more.

Rain fell in torrents, bulleting streams of water speeding downward lit by the blinding flashes every few seconds. Wind screamed and wailed as it hunted within the deadly storm, one of the bigger ones this area had seen since the Rift.

At the edges of a secluded shore, the rumbles of thunder sounded muffled inside a locked up facility, the safety of reinforced hangers and labs failing to hide the chill caused by nature’s wrath. Even as the world slept peacefully, most of the staff was on high alert. That included the operators dutifully running continuous scans at their respective stations.

A large computer set up at the radar control station began to beep in alert, one of its monitors displaying a red dot pinging offshore over the regional map. The agent stationed by it reached for the controls, slipping a headset over his ears to report what the monitor displayed.

“Commander, we've picked up on an energy anamoly fifteen miles west.”

“Another beast?” The gruff voice on the other end inquired almost immediately.

“Negative,” the agent responded, “this signature does not match the one given off by the Breachers.”

There was a pause on the other end, likely due to the other consulting about their next course of action, before another voice crackled through the comm links.

“We are at Hanger 5, prepared for deployment. Allow clearance for investigation.”

“Commander?” The agent prompted for confirmation.

“Send off The Tempest,” the first voice ordered. “We cannot take any chances.”

“Affirmative.”

An intensifying hum sounded from Hanger 5 as mechanisms powered up and the reinforced gates slowly rose, the icy claws of the storm reaching in with a vengeance.

……….....................................

Expecting to appear on solid ground as he had the past few times he walked into a new world, Nine hadn't anticipated the portal to deposit him thirty feet high, in the middle of the ocean.

A startled yelp escaped him, quickly turning into terrified scream as rain, wind and lightning blinded his senses, flashes preceding blasts of thunder that shook him to the core.

The world was an earthquake and he was at its epicenter.

His heartrate sped up as he fell. Loud beats thudding through his veins mirrored the thunder’s claps like symphonic war drums. Pupils shrunk into pinpricks and something buzzed across his fur, skin, flesh– every single cell.

Adrenaline.

He was familiar with adrenaline. With its fight or flight instincts.

He had honed them for years to choose fight. With practice and struggle, pain and blood, a lifetime of suffering. Nine squeezed his eyes shut and let them take over, trusting them to keep him safe.

Seven metal tails clicked apart and spun, two organic ones joining them and the kit slammed to a halt midair, the harsh shift in momentum barely shocking him. Black waves below and grey clouds above sandwiched the wind and rain that tried to push him down but he held on, though barely.

Raising an arm to block the droplets, Nine squinted through the shower, flinching as more strikes lit the stormy horizon. He needed to find someplace to land. Now. Being in the air increased the risk of his metallic appendages attracting lightning.

Just stabilizing while hovering in same place was difficult enough, if he couldn't find land soon- he pressed his lips, glancing down at the MTC- he'd have no choice but to leave this universe unexplored.

For the first time in many multiverse adventures, he wished Sonic and Tails would show up. He had internally complained about it before but he could really use some help right now.

Well, no matter, if they couldn't find him, he'll do it himself. A harsh gust pushed at him from the side, Nine grunting as his tails strained to fight against it. Right, he'll try to find them after he was sheltered and not under the mercy of a heavy storm.

Reaching for his yellow handheld, he turned mid air so his back was to the rain’s direction, shielding his front just enough for him to huddle over the device and activate its wave scanner, trying to find a satellite signal he could hack.

In any other case, he would've shot down the thought immediately, considering he's been through universes where such technology didn't even exist, but Nine had checked the readings of this particular world before deciding to teleport here. It seemed to be advanced in technology just as much, if not more, than New Yoke. And it had a strangely strong reading, similar to the fixed Green Hill did compared to the other shatter spaces. He'd looked forward to exploring it.

If only he hadn't ended up in the middle of the storm.

“C'mon, work,” Nine muttered with frustration as the device took longer than it usually did to pick up a signal, the weather hindrance still playing its part.

Finally, it pinged with an alert, the fox not taking another moment to jump on the frequency, launching codes to bypass firewalls and access the available GPS and maps. As he pulled up the one which showed his location, he paused, brows furrowing up in confusion.

“What?”

The live map had his coordinates, which made sense considering he connected through the database, but it also showed location of another signal, heading straight towards him.

He felt the air trmeor with a deep rumbling thud, it's sound blending with the storm’s so well, he hadn't realized it could have a different source.

Nine froze, his fur pricking up as another rumbling thud sounded, louder. Closer. The lightning that would accompany the thunder impossibly staying static, not flashing off within milliseconds.

Nine was not alone.

He held his breath as waves rose like curtains, a deep groan vibrating the moist air like whales’ songs after a last thunderous thud. Glaring beams shone down at his back, framing his sharp shadow flickering with the waves as he hovered with his handheld gripped tight, the other signal blinking right behind his own.

Swallowing back his growing fear, Nine turned around, finding himself face to face with a gigantuan mech’s dark visor, piercing beams from its shoulder pads focused directly upon Nine.

.......

To be continued in Unsynched

[tunastime]

Hello beloved tuna 💚

How about a number 9 for the spotify wrapped?? (And if u feel like throwing any SEN guys in there I would simply love to see them)

HI THEO. you can tell I've been listening/reading too much murderbot when I start writing in the cadence that freaking kevin r free uses to do the audiobooks. so here, have some SEN ranchers. this song is actually on the SEN ranchers playlist! so I drummed up a little something that I think takes place around that time, where tango is about to receive notice that he's to come back to the Prometheus

(794 words)

Jimmy feels the pressure of all his emotions in his chest like a bubble about to burst. He's made of complex metal lattice, wires and tiny fibers that move like muscle, tubes and chambers holding cooling fluids and lubricants, silicon that filled spaces left behind and protected the various moving parts, made up his skin filled with sensors. Still, the part of him that felt, that processed emotion in a way he wasn't sure he was supposed to, still created that sense of feeling in his chest, as if the air filters and chambers of fluid had seized up all at once and were grinding to start again.

It wasn't a bad feeling though. This one he liked. A lot. It was the closest he had felt to being real in a long time. But it sucked to know that he liked it, and that he only liked it because it made him feel present, because the present was a time in which he knew minutes were slipping through his hands in a way his internal clock couldn't properly count. 

Way back, when Tango first arrived, almost three months ago, he had told Jimmy that he was only there for a month. The successes and failures of their botanical project had meant Tango had stayed longer. It had given them more than enough time to become friends, dissect the little things that made them something other than human, find a piece of each other within the parts most similar. It was odd. And good. And Jimmy liked the idea of being like someone, rather than so different from his shipmates.  

Tango was in his room now—their room, maybe, if Jimmy were feeling brave. The thought of sharing, be that personal space, personal data, personal storage, memory, RAM, emotion, feeling, thought, was a thing that was equally as confusing as it was terrifying. Jimmy was made of emotion—concocted from a hacked emotional core that HASA allowed to be installed in him, and with no way of processing any of the emotion, to filter it through subroutines designed to handle it, to manage it, with the secondary buffer it was supposed to have, Jimmy had too many times fallen victim to its overwhelming charge of his system. So sharing that very large, very vulnerable part of him wasn’t something he thought Tango could handle. Tango simply wasn’t housing an emotional core. Sure, his processor was large, and the long-term storage he had was complex (and Jimmy would know, they’d both poked around in his code and parts as a fun side project, considering Tango had finally decided that Jimmy should simply upload the rest of his data into Tango’s memory in case their project ended early. Tango had been reluctant to do that when he first arrived—he was built to learn, not to just store and retrieve. But what was learning but storing and retrieving, Jimmy had argued, and by the time their three months were meeting a yet-unknown close, they’d gone and backed up the data into Tango’s skull, and looked for fun), but he didn’t have the emotional capacity Jimmy did. And maybe he wouldn’t for a long time.

But he’d let him in. Just like Tango had let Jimmy root around inside his code and trusted him not to delete something essential. And Jimmy hated the idea that he might be losing this soon. He’d overheard Fwhip at some point, talking low to Tango in the hallway. Something about callbacks and data transfers, names of admirals Jimmy had never heard of, but sounded important. He had meant to ask Tango, but had never summoned the strength or reason to do so.

Jimmy watches Tango out of the side of his vision. Tango stayed because he had something to do. Maybe if Jimmy sabotaged their data, Tango would stay. Maybe if he changed something, fixed part of the system but not another, took data into long-term storage where they couldn't access it. Whatever he could do. Tango would stay here. And he wouldn't be alone.

But he couldn't do that to Tango. Which is why this feeling hurts so much. He liked it, because it hurt. And he hated it, because it meant he was coming to terms with the idea that Tango was leaving.

Scott called it grief. Jimmy thinks that robots shouldn't have learned how to grieve. It made looking at his friend Tango that much harder. It made watching him try to laugh and smile that much more difficult. But tucked away in Jimmy's room, watching the display surface show reruns of media Jimmy had long since seen, Tango laughs, and Jimmy grins his way. He’s getting better at that—laughing. Jimmy likes it.

And maybe he likes grief. Just a little.

(send me a number 1-100 and I'll try to write a little something based on the song!)

[reachartwork]

CLASSIFIED - FOLD-BOUNDARY AIRCRAFT PROGRAM

FB-1 "Harbinger" Fold-Boundary Experimental Aircraft

TECHNICAL SPECIFICATIONS

PROPULSION

Primary Propulsion: Modified F135-PW-100 turbofan with fold-volume-expanded architecture.

Effective Thrust: 191kN (dry) / 280kN (afterburner).

Apparent Thrust: 130kN (dry) / 190kN (afterburner).

Exhaust Management: Conventional exhaust geometry with fold-enhanced flow stabilization to maintain subsonic airflow continuity across external plasma boundaries.

Throttle Response: ~0.7 seconds from idle to max dry; ~2.3 seconds to afterburner.

SPATIAL ENGINEERING

Integrated Fold-Volume Expansions:

Main Engine Cavity: 2.3:1 spatial ratio (internal volume x2.3).

Fuel Storage: Four distributed chambers at 1.8:1 spatial ratio (effective capacity ~16,200 liters).

Ammunition/Stores Bay: 1.5:1 spatial ratio, supports 6,000 kg internal load.

Computing Space: 2.1:1 spatial ratio, with thermal isolators for core electronics.

Cumulative Plasma Boundary Intensity Threshold: 3.8 TeV/m² (manifold collapse risk at ~4.2 TeV/m²).

Notes: Distributed expansion ratios mitigate ionization-based plasma buildup in terrestrial atmospheres, particularly critical below 30,000 ft or in high-humidity environments.

COOLING SYSTEM

Thermal Management: Rotating Drum Evaporative Cooling (RDEC) System.

Drum Specifications:

Apparent Diameter: 1.2m.

Actual Diameter: 2.76m.

Surface Area: ~24.0m².

Rotation Speed: 1500 RPM (idle) to 2100 RPM (max thermal load).

Coolant: Modified fluorocarbon FC-77.

Boiling Point: ~56°C.

Coolant Capacity: 240 liters (operational duration ~120 minutes at sustained load).

Heat Dissipation:

Nominal: 220 kW.

Peak: 320 kW (coolant consumption increases).

Vapor Signature: Characteristic fluorocarbon "steam" trail forms during sustained operations or rapid maneuvering.

COMPUTATIONAL SYSTEMS

Fold-Expanded Predictive Computing Array:

Cores: 1024 RISC-V derivative cores with extrasolar manifold integration.

Clock Speed: 4.8 GHz.

Effective Performance: 42 PFLOPS (predicted peak).

Latency: 18ms (core-to-MFD response).

Prediction Horizon: ~3.1 seconds for single combatant targeting; swarm dynamics increase computational load exponentially.

Communication: Quantum coherence data relay across internal folds; hardwired backup via RF burst links.

Notes: Real-time AI-assisted targeting prioritizes swarm neutralization but offloads corridor navigation to the pilot for better response in sub-critical conditions.

PERFORMANCE ENVELOPE

Maximum Speed: Mach 2.4 (altitude-dependent).

Cruising Speed: Mach 1.1 (efficiency optimized).

Service Ceiling: 67,000 ft.

Combat Radius: 1,300 nm.

G-Limit: +9.5/-3.5.

Takeoff Distance: 340 meters (with afterburner).

Landing Distance: 450 meters (fold-assist airbrakes).

Weapon Payload:

Internal: 6,000 kg (compatible with NATO-standard ordnance).

Wing Pylons: 4 x 500 kg (external stores compromise boundary stability).

Standard Loadout:

8x AIM-120D AMRAAM.

2x AIM-9X Sidewinder.

2x GBU-39 SDB (internally stored).

OPERATIONAL NOTES

Primary Mission Profile:

Long-duration swarm suppression and precision strikes within extraterrestrial corridors.

Effective against extrasolar combatants utilizing drone tactics and maneuverable swarm behavior.

Flight Characteristics:

Tight turning radius (~650 meters at Mach 1.0) allows for corridor navigation and dogfighting in confined spaces.

Low observable to extrasolar detection systems in dry air; vapor trails and thermal blooms increase detectability in moist or high-humidity environments.

Limitations:

Coolant reserves deplete rapidly under sustained combat loads; maximum operational duration ~2 hours without refit.

Plasma boundary effects destabilize in atmospheric conditions exceeding 85% relative humidity.

High maintenance requirements for spatial integration hardware and RDEC systems.

Boundary folding imposes structural stress; airframe requires inspection every ~150 flight hours.

SUMMARY

The FB-1 "Harbinger" represents humanity’s first operational attempt to incorporate extrasolar fold-boundary technology into aerospace engineering. While limited by coolant reserves, boundary-induced stress, and vapor visibility, the Harbinger excels in its role as a swarm suppression platform. Its combination of advanced predictive systems, spatially enhanced storage, and exceptional maneuverability ensures dominance in extraterrestrial and terrestrial combat scenarios.

NOTES: Development of next-generation cooling systems and boundary field stabilizers is critical for further operational scalability and mission success in extrasolar theaters.

[yanderejustforyou]

A Vicious Love

The air in Gotham was thick with tension, a palpable weight that settled over the city like a shroud, the streets as unforgiving as ever. It was a world that molded its inhabitants into grotesque reflections of their former selves, forging them into monsters capable of unthinkable acts. Yet, in some cases, this transformation transcended mere monstrosity, rendering them something far more perilous than human. Victor Aguilar, a man who had navigated the shadows of this dark metropolis, stood in the dim confines of his office, his silhouette barely discernible against the faint glow of the city lights below. He gazed down upon Gotham with a predatory intensity, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the polished arm of his chair. But his thoughts were not consumed by the chaos playing out on the streets below; they were tethered to one person: Oswald Cobb.

Oswald had evolved into more than just a colleague in Victor's eyes—he had become a pivotal figure in his existence, an anchor in a sea of violence and despair. Yet, paradoxically, this attachment had morphed into a vulnerability that Victor both cherished and despised. Oswald represented a weakness that gnawed at Victor’s core, an emotional tether he loathed but could not sever. This internal conflict ensnared him in the cruelest of paradoxes: he desired Oswald with an intensity that frightened him, yet that very yearning stirred an overwhelming resentment for the fact that Oswald had managed to carve out a place in his heart.

Victor had always been vicious, his life a testament to survival in a brutal world. But Oswald stirred feelings within him that ran deeper, far more complex than the cold cruelty that had been instilled in him during his turbulent upbringing. He often found himself grappling with the dichotomy of his existence—caught between the man he was and the man he yearned to be.

Suddenly, a knock at the door shattered his reverie, echoing through the dimly lit room like a harbinger of impending chaos. Victor straightened, his gaze sharpening, narrowing in anticipation of who might enter.

“Enter,” he commanded, his voice resonating with authority.

The door creaked open, revealing Oswald standing in the threshold, a vision of determination with his signature penguin umbrella held firmly in hand. His posture was rigid, almost defensive, but Victor noted a flicker of concern in his colleague’s eyes. “I see you’re brooding as usual,” Oswald remarked, his tone laced with a hint of something deeper—a concern that he rarely allowed to surface.

Victor couldn’t help but smirk, though the expression lacked genuine amusement. “The city doesn’t run itself, Cobb,” he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of irritation and something softer, something that made him uneasy.

Oswald stepped into the room, closing the door with a deliberate slowness that emphasized the gravity of the moment. “Not everything can be fixed with violence, Victor,” he countered gently, his words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. “You’ve been at this for days. You’ve been pushing too hard. It’s as if you want to break something.”

A flicker of anger ignited within Victor, his fingers clenching around the edge of his desk as the tension in the room thickened, making it feel colder, more oppressive. “Maybe I do. Maybe this city needs a stark reminder of what happens when it doesn’t stay in line,” he shot back, the words coming out harsher than intended.

Oswald’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer, his piercing eyes locked onto Victor’s. “You’ve become something you swore you wouldn’t be, Victor. You’re not a monster.”

Victor scoffed, dismissing the notion as if it were a fleeting shadow. “And what do you call me then, Oswald?” he challenged, his heart racing with a mixture of anger and trepidation.

“A man,” Oswald replied firmly, his voice steady but laced with sincerity. “A man who has everything but can’t seem to hold on to it.”

Victor exhaled sharply, taking a step back as if Oswald’s words had burned him. “You think I care about your opinion?” he barked, his bravado faltering under the weight of his own vulnerability.

Oswald chuckled darkly, a wicked smile playing on his lips that spoke of a familiarity between them. “You care more than you let on,” he taunted, the challenge implicit in his tone.

The air crackled with unspoken tension, each man standing resolutely in his corner, neither willing to make the first move toward something they both instinctively recognized as dangerous. But it was not the danger itself that held them captive; it was the terrifying prospect of dismantling the walls they had painstakingly constructed. What would happen when the walls crumbled, and the simmering undercurrents of their mutual longing erupted into something tangible?

Victor’s resolve faltered, the rigid armor he had donned for so long beginning to crack. His voice dropped to a whisper as he took a step toward Oswald, an almost desperate gesture. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he warned, his hand sliding into Oswald’s, pulling him closer, drawn by an undeniable gravity. “I’m no good for you, Oswald. I’ll break you just like I’ve broken everything else.”

Oswald inhaled sharply, the tension palpable in the space between them. Yet, against all odds, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Victor’s in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was a kiss that was both desperate and fierce, charged with the years of restraint and unfulfilled desire that had built a wall between them.

The kiss spoke volumes—a cacophony of violence and longing, of love and resentment intertwining in a dangerous dance. As they pulled away, breathless and uncertain, Victor’s eyes burned with an emotion he could scarcely name. It was something far more perilous than mere affection, a tempest that threatened to engulf them both.

“You should have never come here,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion, yet his grip on Oswald’s waist tightened possessively. “You’ve made me weak.”

In that moment, amidst the turmoil of their feelings, Victor realized that the greatest threat to his carefully curated power was not the city outside or the enemies lurking in the shadows—it was Oswald, the man who had unwittingly seeped into his heart and threatened to unravel the very foundations of the empire he had built. The stakes had risen, and the dangerous game they played was just beginning.

“No,” Oswald replied, his fingers tracing the scar on Victor’s jaw. “You’ve made me stronger.”

[finchesslingshott]

AH YES THE LONG-AWAITED GREAT GATSBY CAST ALBUM NOTES FROM FINCH READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

roarin’ on - 10/10

this song has literally been on loop since it first came out

has zero right to be this much of a banger

lives in my head rent free

oh nick carraway the man you are

“tonight lets misbehaaaaaave” scratches my brain in just the right way

WHERES THE PARTY AND CAN YOU TAKE ME THERE ANDDD WHEN THE PARTYS OVER CAN YOU FIND ANOTHER PARTY SOMEWHEREEEE

harmonies my beloved

“turns out: manhattan is expensive!” nick carraway laugh line era is so good

“with his arms spread to the SKYYYYYYYYY” oh i love tenors so much

nick’s speaking voice is so silly i love it he’s just a little guy

the ensembles little “oh oh oh oh”s make me so happy

ORCHESTRA MARRY ME

NICKS TENOR RANGE GOOD GRAVY IT NEVER CEASES TO AMAZE ME

absolute rose - 7.5/10

the ukulele goes crazy

jordan’s dialogue is so silly what a woman

DAISYS LITTLE GIGGLE IM GONNA DIE

ew tom i visibly frowned

ORCHESTRA I LOVE YOU

tom no one likes you shut your face

oh daisy’s voice what a woman

new money - 8.7/10

OK GET IT THIS BEAT IS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK

samantha pauly i love you

AAA CHROMATIC SCALE MY EYES ACTUALLY WIDENED

its almost like 80s core as well as having that 20s swing and i love it

WOLFSHEIM!!!! HEY POOKS (my favorite minor character he doesnt get talked about enough)

“who’s the teahcer?” “thats nick carraway”

the rumors section oh my goodness i literally cant ensemble i literally love you

“do you believe thay about mr gatsby?” “WHAAT?”

oh jordan your speaking voice dear

JORDANNNN

for her - 9.5/10

ITS OUR BOY LADS OH MY GOSH

oh orchestra oh lyrics oh jeremy

“daisyyyy” IM CRYING

the smooth switches between falsetto and full chest voice just adds to the emotion

ORCHESTRAAAAAA

OH ITS THE PART FROM TIKTOK

ok enunciation and emotion get it jeremy

LITERALLY IN ACTUAL TEARS OH MY WORD JEREMY

oh strings you and your tremolo are killing me over here

“now she has TOOOOO KNOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW ITS ALLLL FOR HERRRRRRRRRRRRRR”

valley of ashes - 7.5/10

this beat is so cool oh my gosh 

who is this singing??? i cant tell??? 

OHHHH ITS THAT GUY HEY WILSON

talking to the billboard of the doctors eyes is actually a detail i had headcanoned when i originally read the book and this is actually making me so happy

oh wilson and his wife (whos name i forgot)

“youve got the eyes of God / if God needed glasses”

that was actually so cool what

way too short

second-hand suit - 8.7/10

im loving the ukulele content in this musical 100/10

this role is so clarisse la rue from the lightning thief and i love it

the mood and beat change when she starts talking about tom is insane

the drum beat is so cool what

i cant remember her name for the life of me what is wrong with me

I LOVE THIS OMW NEW DREAM ROLE

for better or worse - 9.5/10

oh no oboe (?) solo i know im gonna start crying 

“and to learn that my soldier has returned / its both a blessing and a curse / is it for better or for worse?”

literally just texted my voice teacher demanding (/j) to work on this song 

“and not to thinkkk about the PAAAAAAST”

oh my gosh wow hold on crying what the flip

somehow “once upon a december” coded

OH OH OH OH NO OH NO

i think my soul just left my body

the met - 8.5/10

AWESOME BASS LINE I’M ALREADY SOLD

MYRTLE THATS HER NAME DEAR GOODNESS I THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE MIRIAM OR MARY OR SMTH 

woah mr mckees voice makes him more creepy than he alr was in the book

“i need a dose of culture / and i need a cigarette”

“in the bedroom lighting i’m an eight” is literally insane

WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON IN THIS SONG

myrtle’s sister ranking different people is literally so crazy calling gatsby a 5 when he’s literally JEREMY FLIPPING JORDAN

katherine’s myrtle’s sister’s name right???? i’m not crazy???

oh nick carraway you and your internal monologue

myrtle and tom’s fight is literally crazy “dAisY dAIsY dAisY” (SMACK)

nick straight up calling tom an asshole is so crazy i love him for it tbh

OH FUNKY BASS LINE MARRY ME

“yes… please connect me with mr. j. gatsby.” BUHM

this was one of my fav scenes in the book and they portrayed it beautifully i’m literally in love

only tea - 9/10

i love a good jeremy jordan meltdown song

“i am not okay.” me too jeremy its ok pookie

“old sport” HE SAID IT HE SAID THE THING I’M GONNA START CRYING

ok the beat yes oh my gosh the goofy little trumpet slides and ukulele my beloved

“i’m gonna walk into the ocean” jay gatsby stop making me kin you

ok ensemble vocals get it

the voice crack on “cASUal” im in love

his voice cracks in general what a man

poor nick man 

i think jeremy’s playing jay to be bipolar and i’m here for it /hj

green light - 10/10

hoooooo boy ok here we go

this is one of the ones i still havent listened to even though it was released early

the falsetto jeremy you’re killing me here

calling her “daisy faye” instead of “daisy buchanan” is so symbolic of him like seeing her as his instead of legally tom’s

oh eva noblezada what a woman you are

the mood/orchestral change when daisy started singing i’m dead

OH THEYRE SINGING TOGETHER IM GONNA DIE

oh theyre definitely kissing why else would they have this random orchestral break thats somehow so similar to “something to believe in” from newsies

the emotion in their voices urhgjgdjdjdjfjfdjdksoaoeokgkf

the harmoniesss

ooh bet theyre kissing again

THE FINAL NOTE OH MY GOSH

the next “something to believe in” i fear

shady - 7.5/10

UH OH IM EXCITED

MORE WOLFSHEIM CONTENT???

his voice is so cool

he’s so tevye coded i cant even explain how or why but he is

AAAAAAAAA DOUBLE BASS I COULD CRY

this instrumental is killing me goodness gravy

“everybodys a little bit shady / the world keeps spinning if you grease the wheel” goes hard

ensemble vocals go harddddd

better hold tight - 8.7/10

more standup bass i could die

“i think i see the stars aligning / or my standards are my declining”

NICK AND HIS VIBRATO I’M SCREAMING

“what you did might be taboo / but i like that look on you” 

i need my next (if any) boyfriend to be a tenor so he can sing this with me

SCREAMING I LOVE THEM

past catching up to me - 9.5/10

oh jerjor your precious little voice can you marry me yet

“she kissed me and swore she’d never stray / then the world got in the way”

this is the new tenor song along with santa fe and great expectations

GET IT DRUMS WOO GO ORCHESTRA

THE KEY CHANGE. OH MY GOSH.

HAD NO RIGHT HITTING ME WITH A C5 (?) JEREMY POOKIE WHAT

ENSEMBLE VOCALS JUST ADD TO IT ALDKGKFKSKSKRKFKDSA

la dee dah with you - 8.5/10

ok just from the orchestral stuff its alr a banger

this is the big tap number right????

whos singing??? this isnt jordan??? is this just an nyc girl from annie type situation?

i’m confused but its a banger so i dont care

oh im so sure the choreo is so impossibly good

YES THE TAPS LETS FLIPPING GO AKDKFLFLSLERLGLDLSKA

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

yep this is it this is what i wanna do with my life

the ensemble hootin and hollerin just adds to it

TOO SHORT.

go - 8.7/10

YAY ANOTHER MENTAL BREAKDOWN SONG!

somehow violet beaudelaire x quigley quagmire core if you know what i mean

“if we wait until we’re ready we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives” core

them <333333333

ew tom spoke i hate him

“i love you lets go / before i change my mind”

these harmonies ugh

ORCHESTRA ILY

too short again

made to last - 9/10

is this tom?? i cant tell?????

OH IT IS LETS GO

OH MY GOSH ITS THE GATSBY TOM FIGHT LETS FLIPPING GO

i really wanna see how this is staged…

OK SMOOTH KEY CHANGE

the conflicting vocal parts in the argument im gonna actually die

tom desperately trying to win me over with his vocal parts

oh its so “nonstop” coded im gonna actually die

for better or worse (reprise) - 7.5/10

its my pookies oml

oh samantha pauly your voice

they better kiss

TOO SHORT

one-way road - 9/10

MYRTLE??? OH MY GOSH???

“WATCH THE ROAD ASSHOLE”

“wait what if i become her?”

the callbacks to second hand suit make me happy

yeah no this is my role i’ve claimed it now

i swear the amount of mental breakdown songs in this music i live for it

YES MYRTLE POP OFF

God sees everything - 8.7/10

lets go george pop off king

TOO SHORT WHAT THE FLIP

for her (reprise) - 8/10

YES CELLO YEA STRINGS AAAAAAAAAAAA

can someone love me like jay gatsby loves daisy buchanan

new money (reprise) - 8.3/10

ugh this beat kills me every time i cant even

DSGLAFJKLDSKLD ENSEMBLE I LOVE YOU

my fav reprise by far oh my GOSH

dying dead

TOO SHORT WTFFFF

beautiful little fool - 9/10

prepared to cry alr oh gosh

the whispery quality of her voice rn i’m gonna die eva pls

“It’s a girl the nurse said / and i broke, and i broke”

the piano instrumental killing me jeeeeeeez

“the best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool” line taken STRAIGHT from the book and it KILLS me every single time i read it sdjadljksdljafdshlsdfjakdshdfask

oh eva noblezada your VOICE

OHHH THE CALLBACK TO ABSOLUTE ROSE I’M DEAD

ORCHESTRA MARRY ME HODSJGKSLAFKDGLJFADKSGLFAKDHGSLJFADHGS

texting my voice teacher rn

finale: roaring on - 9.5/10

YAY NICK HEY POOKS YOU EAT UP THAT MONOLOGUE KING

this is partially taken from the book uihsialfdjsghkfljdg i’m gonna cry

“I can still see gatsby / standing in silhouette” ok homo /pos

YES TENOR NOTE MY BELOVED

“with infinite hope / that made him fool enough to try / that light across the water was always out of reach / so why do we (x3) keep reaching”

OOOO BEAT CHANGE KILLING ME

YAY ROARING ON ODGJSHOAPLSFJDKGSHDLJFADHSGJJLFAD

DIRECT QUOTES FROM THE BOOK HOLY CRAPPPPPPP

WHERES THE PARTY AND CAN YOU TAKE ME THERRREEEEE-

genuinely in tears oh my GOSH

IN CONCLUSION

SURPRISINGLY cohesive to the book which made me so happy - the direct quotes had me SCREAMINGGGGG

phenomenal cast literally would die to breathe the same air as any of them

dream role is myrtle she sounds like a soprano belter sorry i don’t make the rules

JEREMY. FREAKING. JORDAN.

ORCHESTRA. ENSEMBLE. I LOVE YOU.

[herrlindemann]

Bravo 05.06.1997, interview with Till

The halls burn at their concerts. With their spectacular fire show and their super hit 'Engel' (this week number 3 in the German single charts), Rammstein from Berlin rose to become the new stars of the German rock scene. Frontman Till Lindemann plays the wild man on stage: The muscular, broad-shouldered singer fires flamethrowers, lets showers of sparks spray and dances across the stage as a living torch - without batting an eyelid. In the BRAVO interview, on the other hand, the shrill 'fire devil' shows a completely different side. Till, who has recently dyed his hair silver, speaks softly, in a deep but gentle voice. He seems very thoughtful, almost shy — and he rarely smiles...

Rammstein landed their biggest hit with 'Engel'. How did you get the idea to sing about angels?

The text goes back to a fairy tale I heard as a child. A boy asks his dad about his deceased mother: "Where is my mommy now? » The dad replies: «She is now an angel in heaven. Look up at that star. There's your mommy now! » This story fascinated me. I could sense how lonely and vulnerable the boy must have felt without his mother.

Do you believe in angels yourself?

Anyway, I've never seen one. Richard always says my lyrics are childish and wise at the same time. I really am like a big kid — naughty but innocent. People always think I'm strong and badass. That's not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt — and romantic and passionate in love.

How did you grow up?

We lived in Schwerin in what was then East Germany. My parents are artists. They left me alone, I could do whatever I wanted. I was mainly interested in sports. I was good at swimming, so when I was ten I went to a sports school where I trained for an international career. At first everything went great. When I was 16, I went to Rome with the East German team for the European Championships.

Was that your first trip abroad?

Yes, anyone who went abroad in GDR times was king! We didn't have the freedom to travel back then. I was totally fascinated by Italy. After the competition I abseiled with a girl I met in Rome. I had no intention of running. The next morning I reported back to the team. Unfortunately too late. I got into big trouble and was interrogated by the Stasi. What I did was a crime for them. It was then that I noticed for the first time in what a slave system we lived in. After this trip, I was fed up with the system. I got out and became punk.

How long has Rammstein existed?

Richard, our rhythm guitarist, founded the group in 1993. At Rammstein all band members are equally important. The group can only function with this cast. If one of us gets out, it's over. The guys played in various Berlin groups like Feeling B and The Instabokatables until 1993. I got by in Schwerin as a basket weaver. From time to time I played drums in some punk bands for fun. Richard is an old friend of mine. My voice has always fascinated him. I used to sing out loud at work and he would listen for hours. One day he brought cassettes with new, super hard songs and told me to sing along. At first I didn't feel like it because I didn't want to go to Berlin.

But then you went to Berlin after all...

Yes, Richard talked to me for three days. Finally he convinced me. We then recorded the first demos in the apartment he and Schneider shared at the time. I always had to sing under a blanket because my voice woke the neighbors from their sleep. The three of us formed the core team. Paul, Flake and Olli came later when we won our first studio session at the Berlin Senate Rock Competition in the summer of 1993.

Where does the band name Rammstein come from?

At first we didn't expect to be commercially successful. For over a year we went without a name because we only played at friends' parties. When we signed the record deal, we had to come up with a name quickly. Someone said: "Rammstein. » We liked this name — «Ramm» and «Stein» express movement, strength and hardness. We knew nothing at all about the plane crash that happened in the 1980s at the military training area in Ramstein/Rhineland-Palatinate. We all come from the east and didn't notice anything about the catastrophe.

At the beginning of your career there were rumors that you were right-wing extremists...

Absolute nonsense! We have nothing to do with fascists. When Rammstein started, we seemed like a foreign body in the German music scene because we didn't conform to any cliché. We're just not easy-going heave metallers with long hair and short pants. People didn't know which box to put us in. The box on the right was obvious because we acted very tough and monumental, with long leather coats, shimmering metal, bare shiny skin and all that fire. We wanted to provoke people and do something totally crazy.

« Mein schwarzes Blut und dein weißes Fleisch, ich werd’ immer geiler von deinem Gekreisch. Der Angstschweiß da auf deiner Stirn, hagelt in mein krankes Hirn… » you sing on the number 'Weißes Fleisch'. Are such harsh texts also created out of sheer desire to provoke?

My texts arise from feelings and dreams, more from pain than from pleasure. I often have bad nightmares, waking up at night drenched in sweat from fear because I saw some bad bloody scene in my dream. My lyrics are an outlet for the emotional lava boiling over in my soul.

What scares you?

We all try hard to hide behind a well-mannered facade that we are ruled and guided by drives and feelings: by hunger, thirst, fear, hatred, greed for power and sex. Of course there is also a very strong positive force in us - love. Without them, humanity would have exterminated itself long ago. Drives and negative feelings are particularly dangerous when they are suppressed and hidden from consciousness. In my texts they are allowed to come into the open.

Are you a pyromaniac?

Fire fascinates me. I once brought two New Year's Eve fire breathers to a gig and lit them between songs. The fans cheered and I burned my hands. But I thought it was great that I didn't have to stand around stupidly between the songs, but had something to do. I made myself a gauntlet that could spit fire, then a fire arm. At one point, the fire department showed up behind the stage. On this occasion I learned that you need a ticket to play with pyro effects. So I took the firework exam.

How do you actually live privately? Do you have a girlfriend?

No, not at this time. None of the six of us have an intact relationship. We're just too much on the go. But I don't live alone. I am single father. My daughter's name is Nele and she's twelve years old: she's my everything - for me even more important than Rammstein!

[ghanjrho]

Alright, because this wouldn't leave my head here we go:

Young Justice as a band, Core 6 edition.

Red Tornado is their manager, obviously.

Initially, it was a trio act of Kon, Bart, and Tim. This lasted for their debut single Id, Ego, and Superego, as well as the EP Young, Just Us. Greta was a session player who got tapped in to help back a track for the full album, and recommended her previous collaborators Cissie and Cassie to the group. Some internal shakeups followed, but by the release of the full Young, Just Us album the band had settled down.

Kon: Drums, and the occasional backing vocal.

Bart: Man, what doesn't Bart play. He started on keyboard, then promptly went full crazy. In the EP alone, he has listed credits for piccolo, sousaphone, and harpsichord, among others.

Tim: originally lead guitar/vocals, later rhythm guitar and male vocals. Because he cannot be normal, his guitar isn't either. Usually an 8-string, but he he's broken out a Chapman Stick on more than one occasion.

Cassie: Lead guitar and lead female vocals. Also helps with songwriting.

Greta: bass guitar. Likes music, likes playing with friends, jsut as happy to fade into the background.

Cissie: keyboard, backing female vocals. Bonnie wanted her to be a solo artist, but "white girl singing with a piano" isn't exactly an unpopular niche. Bonnie's new long-term plan is for Cissie to be the breakout sensation and leave Young Justice behind. So far, Cissie isn't on board.

Tim and Cassie have a somewhat complex co-front dynamic. Tim is the primary songwriter, is go-to for guitar solos, and is the primary male vocalist. Cassie plays lead guitar and sings lead on most songs. Cissie has a song or two on each album that she takes the lead for, and that's all she really wants right now.

[iaminyourbones]

Sorry if replies are a little slow everyone

I’m currently at a really cool marching band event called Drum Core International (DCI) and I’m only answering and responding in between bands