#fm screams into the void

[slavghoul]

Full article from Metal Hammer 12/2022 that I posted an excerpt from in the previous post. BTW, Impera landed #1 on Metal Hammer’s list of best albums of 2022!

--

It was January 2022, and we found ourselves sitting in the empty lobby of a snug Seattle hotel, overlooking the sunset over Puget Sound while soft rock wafted through the PA system. Across from us was Ghost frontman and mastermind Tobias Forge, and we spent nearly two hours talking about music, family, dogs and the steady ascension of Ghost from spooky Swedish underground band to arena filling titans. But mostly we were there to talk about Impera – their fifth album, then still two months away from release.

In the run-up to an album coming out – particularly one with a highly acclaimed predecessor, like 2018’s Prequelle – artists tend to convey palpable anxiety as they prepare to relinquish control of their work to the world. Not so with Tobias, who radiated ease and comfort. Impera had not yet seen the light of day, but he had already moved on. Looking back at that period today, he explains, “As soon as I am done making a record, I’m pretty much fed up with it. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to know about it, I just want to forget about it. Once it hits the ears of people, depending on how it’s being received, that’s where you start from scratch again.”

Following Ghost’s North American tour with Volbeat and Twin Temple, Impera was released on March 11. It seamlessly blended pop-savvy songwriting with elaborate arrangements and steady torrents of anthemic pop metal riffage that created a wormhole back to the lighter-raising, arena-rock majesty of the 80s. From the glass-shattering scream that opened Kaisarion to the synth-rock squall of Watcher In The Sky, it delivered one guitar-powered banger after another.

It was enough to land Ghost their first No.1 position on Billboard’s Top Album Sales chart – their fourth Top 10 overall. Even bigger, in terms of vinyl and CD sales, Impera scored 2022’s biggest first-week sales for any album, of any genre. With more than 62,000 copies sold in the US alone, it easily bested The Weeknd’s February CD release of Dawn FM. In fact, Impera claimed the biggest first sales week for hard rock vinyl since Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy in 1994.

Critics united in swift and lusty praise. It might have felt heretical at the time, but many early reviews rated Impera as besting Prequelle on all fronts. Our very own Dave Everley wrote: ‘Impera wins on bolshiness, bravado and skyscraping songs alone. Ghost have turned in a modern metal classic with an arena rock heart. It turns out the Devil doesn’t have all the best tunes. Tobias Forge does.’ It’s safe to say any plans of “starting from scratch” were shoved to the back burner.

Ghost’s official Imperatour headlining run took them back across North America and then to Europe. Despite the lingering ravages of Covid across the live music industry, they thrived. “I am very happy that we managed to orchestrate a somewhat functioning but very successful album launch”, says Tobias. “We managed to nail 70 shows with just one cancellation. I think in this day and age in this year, that’s fucking great!”

Across the globe, stages were filling up with shows that had been booked many years prior. “We had to cut and paste a little with our touring schedule, because this past summer was basically filled with 2020’s line-ups,” says Tobias. “That made our scheduling a little… I wouldn’t say sparse, but we had breaks that were longer than normal. There are so many bands that are doing these weird dances. The last year of releasing an album into the void, with no touring and cancelling here and there and everywhere, and people having to rethink their lives, basically… We’ve been blessed not to have done too much of that.”

Logistics aside, somewhere along the line, that cultish little band from Sweden – the one with the creepy frontman singing about Satan and plagues and empires – went mainstream. Propelled by Impera’s momentum, the band tapped into new levels of cultural saturation thanks to appearances on mainstays such as Jimmy Kimmel Live.

“TV always brings you in front of new people”, says Tobias. “We did [The Late Show With Stephen] Colbert a few years ago, and every time you do something like that, you obviously expose yourself to a new scene of viewers. And that’s always great, unless you completely shit the bed on the air. Ha ha ha! I think we did do a few things this year that brought in a whole slew of new people into our fanbase.”

But ever the realist, he adds, “You might have a spike of people checking you out… but you don’t really notice if things like that had any effect. It’s not like the day after, all of your shows are now sold out and there’s a double night booked into every show you’re doing. It’s such a slow process that you don’t notice until a half year later when new fans come in and say, ‘I saw you on Kimmel’ or ‘I saw you with my dad.’ I wouldn’t say that being on Kimmel changed everything. It’s been slow, step-by-step, but it builds new branches onto the same tree and you keep growing higher.”

And higher they grew. In July, Mary On A Cross – originally released on the 2019 EP, Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic – was used in a Tiktok tribute to the show Stranger Things. The ripple effect was staggering. The song landed in the Top 10 of Spotify’s Viral 50 Global chart. As of this issue, the hashtag #Maryonacross has notched up well over one billion views. Ghost eventually released an official, slowed-down version of the song and the two versions combined now claim more than 180 million Spotify streams and counting. “For us, the Tiktok thing was or is just a giant bonus”, he explains. “That was never something that we planned.”

Surely the unplanned waves of publicity will ferry over legions of new fans, for whom an embarrassment of riches awaits. “One thing that I felt proud over, was the fact that we’ve been around for 12 years,” says Tobias. “We’ve made five records, a bunch of EPS, and I am glad that there seems to be a song that has a way to suck people in. And if they go into our world and like it, there is plenty to find. If you like Mary On A Cross, you can just jump on the train and go where we already are heading.”

It’s been an uncommonly good year for heavy music, but for Ghost it’s been more than a success – it’s been a coronation. Despite their demoniacal appearance and transgressive lyrical themes, they have negotiated the near-impossible task of attracting mainstream audiences while holding fast to the diehards in metal who have been there from the start. It creates the enviable problem of facing a new year with new pressures and heightened expectations. But Tobias has a plan.

“We’re doing a lot of touring again”, he explains. “On previous album cycles we’ve done four legs in America and two or three in Europe and repeated. We’re going to go into every territory next year, but there’s going to be one European tour, one American tour. We are going to do a little bit of everywhere. There’ll be a little bit of something up in upper Asia, on the far end there – a very well-established country with a lot of pop cultural fascination, and the home of videogames. And there’s going to be something in the Oceania world, and there might be something south of Panama, and there might be something slightly north of Panama. It feels pretty solid.”

He cryptically adds, “We’re going to come out with a little bit of change before that – good change. We’re not going to go silent. Some things are public, other things not in public view, but there are a lot of things brewing.”

We are journalistically bound to inquire about the next album and, unsurprisingly, Tobias remains mum. In January, he told us, “Everything I’m doing now is for the next record. I have a vague idea what that will be like and a vague idea of the title and the colour scheme.”

For now, that will have to do, but rest assured that as we all continue to enjoy the masterpiece that is Impera, Tobias is already hard at work, figuring out dramatic new ways to blow our minds. But he still allows himself the odd moment to stop and take it all in.

“To be able to make all of the shows that we’ve done, and to have a record that did fairly well, I think the sum of it is pretty fucking awesome,” he smiles. “I’m very thankful. It was a lot of hard work and a little bit of luck.”

[swampythesweetsketch]

>:]

The four come back, idk how exactly, but they do. They get thrown right at the Ninja to fight, but immediately they are terrified. Begging and pleading for the og4 not to kill them again. The Void was hell, maybe even worse than the chaos in the Madness Realm.

And the Ninja are confused. Aren't these guys the same evil clones they fought at Darkley's? They are, but 1000 times more traumatized and done so in only 1 event!

For the sake of this post, I'll call the Bizarros by their colors.

Black has had the worst transition back into actual living space. The sounds. Oh dear FM the sounds... Black has to wear noise-cancelling headphones at all time, but even then, there's a ringing in his ears with how much white noise was in the Void. And sometimes his inability to cope with the outside world and it's noises sends him into major panic attacks.

White was the one to be separated for some years and dear lord does this guy have the WORST anxiety. He will freeze his hand to the others and not a single Bizarro has a hand that hasn't suffered a bit of frostbite. But that's fine. They don't blame White for it, they know. He falls apart when he can't see the others, and he will start screaming if he's taken away.

Blue has made some insane progress to make himself chill 24/7. You know how Jay went mental in the First Realm? Yeah, that's Blue. The only time he ever snaps out of it is if he or the others are being threatened. Otherwise he's a apathetic, lazy, non-preserving person that is heavy in denial, he doesn't- can't accept he's back in Ninjago. They'll all wake up and see they're in Void. He's in soon for a reality check.

And Red, poor Red. He's becomes the emotional crutch by his own sacrifice. He's the one to put a wall between the Bizarros and the Ninja, screaming at them to not hurt the others. Hurt him, he can take it. Don't hurt them. His lack of self-care is also a big outlier as he'll starve if the others don't eat first. Red'll hand his own plate away if someone wants seconds. He's like Kai.

The Bizarros come back and everyone thinks they'll be back to their old evil selves-

Instead there's an entire season of them processing through mental trauma and having separation anxiety cause they've been trapped in a voidscape with no one but themselves to exist with for ~10 years. One of them at one point went missing cause they strayed too far and it took 3-4 years to find the other 3.

[12am-motivation]

I'M PRETTY SURE I SAW SOME POSTS ABOUT A COWBOY AU JUST RECENTLY I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS

And I know that these 3 finally got some new URs after a long while but DOES THIS MEAN THAT SOLOMON MIGHT FINALLY APPEAR IN THE NEXT SKILL ANIMATION BANNER—

[fm-kat]

Working on my thesis instead of doing my actual work because I need to make some progress on something before I freak out.

[wilderwraith]

I WANT A GIRLFRIEND

[ghostin]

love screaming into the void to get last fm you're the only one that gets me ahdkjas

world peace could be achieved if we all just made lfm accounts i think

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Cold (White Demon’s Love Song, Part 1.)

Series description: A new job was what the reason you found yourself on a lonely roadtrip on the western coast, ending up in the woods of Olympian Peninsula. Yet a sudden car malfuction was what cause your unplanned stay in Forks. To your surprise, there was a lot of sinister things going on under the veil of fog. 

Part summary: On your way to Port Angeles, your car just suddenly gave up, dying just in front of the Forks welcome sign. Well... It was time to call the local mechanic.

A/N: The series’ name is obviously a call-back to Twilight Saga: New Moon soundrack, A White Demon Love Song (by the Killers), used in the ending credits. Honestly, the song is amazing and you should give it a listen, or two, because it reminds me of Jacob so much.  

Word count: 4.5 K

Twilight playlist: ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

PICTURE SOURCE 

Dedicated to the best hooman being I know, my dearest, @missdictatorme​

It was nothing but a small town, located close to the western coast, standing in the middle of nothing but deep, dark woods. Its population never crossed the milestone of 4.000 people at one time - neither it had a chance to do so. The town was located in northern America, in the state of Washington. Its name was Forks - close to Forks, there was a native-American territory named the Quileute reservation, La Push being its tiny, beating heart; a slightly bigger town named Port Angeles, and one big city - Olympia.

The forests and nature of the Olympian Peninsula was one of the most mysterious and beautiful to ever be experienced by a human being. There were mountain lions and bears, wolves, and bigger, more dangerous animals hiding in the deep, all-year-long green woods. For such a small town, Forks had its fair share of unnatural, mythical, and legendary creatures roaming around/in it. The deepest nightmares of horror and fairytales coming true, if you will. It also seemed that the town just can't leave the cycle of repeating events, one man in the woods thought.

It wasn't just a man, no, that wouldn't be accurate to say. It was a man with a literal animal inside his body. An animal about which he hoped will never come on the surface once again. All he wanted was to grow old without complications, that was his whole deal. Now that he was left alone, behind and Cullens, the residing vampire family, had left the town, he and his brothers had a chance to do so... Finally. Five years ago, he and Sam Uley, the leader of another pack, watched the Cullens leave the city for another... Hundred years or so. It appeared it's the time to stop with the whole wolf thing, letting them let the wolves inside of them die.

Being a werewolf, a child of the moon, a wolf, or a shapeshifter, whatever you wanted to call it, wasn't as brutal as it was described in horror stories over the years. More than anything, the men and women of the Quileute tribe were carrying the spirit animal inside - the animal was waiting inside, sleeping, until it was called to rise once more. Not everyone could become a wolf - only the ancestors of the first big chief, Taha Aki, could do so. There also needed specific things to happen for their transformation, whether it was the first one or another beginning of the cycle. They needed to smell the scent of vampires.

No-one could predict a pack of vampires taking refuge just a small bit from Forks, again. Yet this time, it wasn't the 'good' vampires feeding on animal blood; these were wild, unpredictable, and red-eyed. These could not be debated to reach any sort of agreement or truce, as the Cullens did a century ago. These had to be stopped, killed, and burned. Whether they would be acting nice or not, they were a threat to Forks and everyone living in it. Which the spirits realized - they started to re-awaken once more.

First, it caught most of the pack unprepared - both alphas of the Uley and Black pack started to feel the sensation of intense heat, of rage and fury all of a sudden. For Jacob Black, it happened when he was in his workshop, repairing an old engine. He barely had the strength to walk out of the building. His muscles were tensing uncontrollably, a high fever appeared all of a sudden. Just muttered groans of pain and heavy breathing could be heard as Jacob walked past the first line of high trees, waiting for the feeling to rip him apart like a rag doll. This shouldn't be happening. There were no vampires in Forks anymore, why was the wolf urging to come out?

The man fell on both his knees. In despair, his fingers dug deep into the forest soil as he let himself cry out in pain. No-one could see him or hear him now, it was fine. The spasms made him fall on his back as his pupils were wildly rolling. If any Catholic priest would see him, he could easily claim that Jacob was possessed by a demon. Another groan left Jacob's body, which was still writhing in convulsions until the part came - the one where his human form just exploded, a hoard of russet fur sprang out as the wolf tried to get on his feet. The man was highly confused. Why did this happen? He wasn't left in the dark for too long - soon, he heard the familiar voice of Sam Uley, who was just a few years older than him, inside his head.

Sure, both of them decided to separate some time ago, creating two packs in Forks, but they could still communicate telepathically - as two alphas, the leaders of the pack. - 'Is that you, Jacob?' - Sam screamed into the void, being scared beyond his wildest dreams. It was understandable - back in the day, Sam was the first to awaken his spirit wolf when the Cullens moved back to Forks. Naturally, he was alone and didn't get what was happening to him that much - until the elders told him. This time, it might've been the same thing, again. Naturally, Sam was relieved when he felt another mind connect into the web of shared thoughts, even if it was just Jacob. - 'Did it just happen to you too? Are you the only one as well?' - Sam asked with anxiety. - 'Yes. I can't hear Seth or Embry or Quil. You?' - Jake informed about his current situation. - 'I can't hear anyone either. Do you know what's happening?' - Yet this time, Jacob was silent.

He didn't know what was going on. The only thing he knew was that he has to protect his territory by all costs - and that something is going on around Forks.

A few days later, road 101:

"You are now tuning into Radio Forks on 140.5 FM. The weather is nice today, but remember to be careful on the roads anyway. On a request from our listener, we will now play The Violet Hour by Sea Wolf... Take it away." - A woman in the radio said, her voice mashing up into happy guitar rhythms in the end. The song was nice and fast, so it made you dance in the seat of your Beetle while you gripped on the steering wheel. The car was most probably at least twice as old as you were, it wasn't in the best condition and the stereo was also kind of shit, and the AC worked only when you pulled out the lighter out, but it was still your car in the end. Well, you couldn't afford anything better from a teacher payment anyway - the Beetle never gave up on you, it had never malfunctioned and even if it did eat a lot of fuel, you still loved the car.

Now, you were on your way to Tacoma because of the work you've been given there - starting in a few weeks, you've already had moved most of your stuff into the new apartment which you shared with a roommate. It was exciting, starting another stage of your life in Tacoma. Sure, your mom was a bit scared when you told her how far you were moving out, but you promised to call and text her all the time, so she would be calm.

But before your final settling down in Tacoma, your friends advised you to take a short trip along the western coast - especially the upper part of it. So you did as they told you - you were now close to some small town named Forks, which you wanted to just drive through quickly, before continuing to Port Angeles. These towns were small and hadn't much to offer, but according to your friend, it was magical to stay there, even just for a while. So far, you hadn't stopped in many towns, but you had to say that you liked the weather - hot, sunny days? You were starting to question them after spending a week on the road. The higher you got in Washington, the more cloudy and rainy it got. More importantly, it was freezing in this part of the world. What was the sun? You didn't know. You hadn't seen it since you entered the deep, green, and rainy woods of the state. The roads were always slipping from the rain, so you had to focus on the damn road at all times.

There was deer here and there on the road, but even if the view was mostly the same, you liked it. The air was cold and humid even though, in the nights and sometimes even during the day, it got very cold up here. You've chosen to move to Tacoma, didnt you? This was what you should be prepared for.

Quickly, you glanced over the map to see if you're still on the right road when your eyes widened in horror. The motor just made a damn weird sound. Oh no. Oh crap! You cried out internally as you felt the car slowing down. All you did was to ride to the roadside with panic as the car made a few very unpleasant sounds before the engine stopped completely. The Forks sign was mocking you from the distance, telling you that you were just a small while from the city. So much for just passing through, huh? Without too much waiting, you tried to call the local post office, the only number you had on your phone and to your surprise, the woman knew a number on the local mechanic. Why wouldn't she? According to the number on the board, this town was damn small.

Or, maybe, a lot of people called her and asked her for a towtruck.  

More so, she switched you over to the workshop just moments after. You've been sitting in the car, already having your winter jacket pulled on since it was getting cold in there rapidly, watching the damn sign just mocking you silently. You were in the temptation to stick your tongue out, but it was just a dumb sign. - "Jacob Black on the phone, what can I do for you?"

First off, the voice, regarding the polite question, sounded almost fed up and annoyed - and you haven't spoken out yet. Someone had a bad day. Second of all - the man sounded quite young. Did the post-office-lady switch you to a bad number? - "Hello? Is someone out there?" - The Jacob mechanic asked again. The tone, again, was unpleasing to listen to. But this time, you gathered yourself to answer. - "Yea, yea. Hi, I got your number? They told me you're the Forks mechanic with a towtruck? Is that right?" - You quickly got out of yourself. While you were talking, you got out of the car and walked around the car in circles, trying to warm yourself up. Which was borderline foolishness when it was drizzling outside, but whatever. - "Where you're stuck? What happened?" - The man said without a hint of caring about the topic.

"My car just... Stopped suddenly." - You described. After a quiet sigh, you could almost hear the Jacob man rolling his eyes. - "I'm just a few yards from the Forks welcome sign. Can you help me or should I call someone else?" - Wow, you got straight to the point. Damn, you didn't need some fed up, annoyed mechanic. He could at least pretend to care. It wouldn't have killed him. - "Listen, miss. The nearest towtruck, except me, is in Port Angeles. If you don't wanna pay ridiculous prices for the service, it will be wise to hire me, okay? It's one mile... So I'll be asking for five bucks just to get your car to my garage, with the services and everything counted in. Is that alright?"

Again, even if the question was meant to be polite since you were his potential customer, it was said in such a manner that couldn't be described other than rude. Jacob was straightway rude with you. Also, five dollars for a mile were a bit overpriced. You could be glad that the mechanic of such backwater didn't ask for ten bucks... Let alone how much would the Port Angeles mechanic want? You had some money with you, but it wasn't much either. And for now, you had to save until you'd get to know what's wrong with your car. - "Okay. How long until you'll be here?" - You asked, now you were fed up as well. That made two of you annoyed, great conversation. - "In about... Half an hour. See you there." - And the phone line went dead. With empty gaze, you were staring into the woods with both your eyebrows raised as you listened to the long, beeping sound.

Half an hour? Did he want to let you freeze out there, in the woods, lost on the road 101? And for the love of God, you couldn't wait for the moment you'll talk with the man from eye to eye. That will be an unpleasant conversation, you could tell already. Quickly, you ran back to your car. For some time, you tried to get at least the almost non-existent heating system on, but the car was dead. It didn't even start. You were sure that you'll freeze to death before the towtruck comes to save you. And you almost did - by the time you've seen an old, big Chevy truck with a hook on its back, your mouth were already feeling your teeth-gnashing being fully set. You were hugging yourself inside the car, there was mist slowly coming out of your lips. Well, this was bad.

The man jumped out of the towtruck, watching your car in horror. How old was this thing? Sixty years? Well, it was certainly older than its owner, who was sitting inside. It could be told you weren't used to such cold, because you were looking as if you were about to die any minute. With your eyebrows knitted, you watched the man approaching your window. The first thing that punched you in the eyes was the fact he was wearing just a plain, short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of old jeans. The man also had long hair pulled into a man bun and damn, these eyes could start shoot bolts of lightning at any time.

He also was... Huge. You'd swear you hadn't seen a man who would take as much space as him. This man was at least six feet tall... And a lot of inches more. As he approached you, you suddenly felt the need to scold him down about politeness fading away. As he knocked onto the window, you rolled it down with a super awkward smile, feeling every inch of you being scared by the man. As soon as you rolled the window down, the man leaned both his palms into the door - with a glance, you figured out he would be able to just break the door if he'd want to, and leaned closer to you.

"You were the one that called?" - The man asked, annoyed once more. So, this was Jacob Black himself - the local mechanic in all his glory. A freaky dude, in your opinion. - "Yep. 't was me." - You peeped out while trying to keep the smile on. Jacob straightened up and sighed, looking away from you for a moment. The way you were smiling, as if you weren't feeling physically well, was giving him the creeps too, don't you worry about it. - "Get out, I'll help this bad boy up." - Jacob patted your car's top. For a moment, you were afraid that the car might break down to pieces as the cartoon cars did - the trunk would fall, the tires would roll away and you would be sitting there on the seat with the steering wheel in your palms. That, thank God, didn't happen.

As the man worked on pulling your car up so you could drag it to the workshop, you could ask him a ton of questions - why was he naked in the middle of such weather? Was being pissy his all-around mood? How was he doing? Yet out of respect, you were just standing there with the same terrifying smile and watching him doing all the job. If you weren't standing there and if you weren't watching him without moving, he'd have so much easier job. Jacob would just take the car, drag it to the hook and click to place - but solely because of your stare, he had to pretend he was struggling with the task a bit. Yet even though he was pretending to struggle, he was done in a few minutes. - "Well, get into the trunk. We don't want you to get... Cold." - Jacob spoke out to you carefully, trying to lower the level of annoyance in his voice.

It was just a simple misunderstanding - while Jacob was worried that the weather around here, to which you quite obviously weren't accommodated to, had done something to the muscles in your face, you were just worried that the man might do something to you if you say something wrong. That was the whole problem. You couldn't know that Jacob wouldn't ever hurt anyone and he couldn't know you're just afraid of big boys. With a nod, you walked to the cabin of the old Chevy truck. It was pretty old, but taken care of  - the black paint wasn't that old, it was still shiny in the drops of rain.

The way to the workshop was as quiet as hell - and uncomfortable the same. Jake didn't know what he did wrong and how to start a conversation with you. Honestly, you were just glad that the cabin of his truck was nicely warm. The color got back into your face in no time. And seemingly, the worried smile had disappeared as well. The way was quick - sooner than you'd say, Jacob already had the car inside his workshop. - "So, here's what I'm going to do. I'll check your car, see what's wrong and what can I do for you. You wanna a coffee, tea, or a cup of hot chocolate in the meantime? There are some magazines in the waiting room too, if you're interested." - The man looked at you while he cleaned his palms in the rug. - "The chocolate sounds nice if you don't mind." - "That's a buck worth of excess fare." - He mumbled to you, but walked to his office, getting the coffee machine ready. You almost wanted to tell him something back - yet just at that moment, the man turned his head at you.

His palm quickly pulled a strand of his black hair behind his eyes while his brown, warm eyes gave you a look. - "I was joking. It's counted into the services." - Jacob explained quickly. Oh. You nodded. It didn't sound like a joke, but who were you to judge that. Were all the people in Forks like this? If they were, well, this was sure a great place to live at. Just after he put the small cup on the table in the waiting room, he made sure the heating is on in there. After that, he disappeared into the workplace. All you could hear was some quiet music and rattling of tools as Jacob got into work.

All you did was that you sat there like a small kid, sipping on the warm treat. It was making you feel a bit better. Suddenly, the man almost kicked the door, standing in there with a horrified expression. - "How old is the car?" - Jacob asked simply, rubbing his palms into the rug again. Something in his eyes told you he's being freaked out by what he had seemed. - "I don't know. I bought it six years ago from my neighbor who was forbidden to drive because she couldn't see anymore." - You answered immediately, standing up to look the man in his eyes. - "I don't know how did it drive for so long. This is a wreck." - The mechanic informed you and turned on his heels, marching back to the shop. When you didn't get his hint and didn't follow, he turned his head at you and rose his eyebrow. You were there in no time at all.

"I don't even know where to start. The AC is busted, the hoses in the engine are clogged by various stuff, your alternator... Wow, I'm wondering that it's one piece..." - He was pointing his fingers around, talking about the breaks, some small parts, and various other stuff. - "Um, Mr. Black, I don't understand what you're trying to say, so... Can you get to the point? What is wrong and how much will it cost to repair the car?" - The expression you had on your face told Jacob that you, indeed, were confused as hell. He knew women, Rosalie Hale and such, who were into cars massively, so he would never say that cars were just a 'guy thing' - yet there were people who just weren't gifted in this sort of thing. - "Uh, I think it might be better to just buy some new car," - Jacob started, but your face told him you weren't thinking about leaving the beloved Beetle behind. - "Or, I can try to figure out what to do, yeah." - Suddenly, he walked to his small desk and started to work with his calculator, writing things down on a list. Then, he showed you how much you were about to pay - and the sum made you sit on the chair he had there. With a long sigh, you leaned your elbows to your knees, trying to keep it together.

700 dollars with his work counted in. That was quite something - somehow, you were positive that Jacob Black gave you a pity-discount as well. Sure, you had something saved - but you needed to eat something in Tacoma and 700 bucks wouldn't be healthy for your dying bank account. As a university student, you had multiple loans and stuff, you also had to pay the rent... And certainly, you didn't have spare 15.000 bucks to buy a new car. And you needed one. With a shaky sigh, you put your head to your palms and tried to keep it together. - "It will take me at least two weeks to get all the parts I need and then... Listen, I didn't know the car's this bad either." - Suddenly, you realized that the man is standing next to you, smoothing your shoulder. He could understand people in bad financial situations - he hadn't much himself, though it was significantly better than when he was younger.

He wanted to help you somehow, but the parts were simply too expansive against his liking. Especially for something like the Beetle in front of him. This bad boy needed to take care of everything - and Jacob, sure of his experience with old cars, knew he can repair it... Somehow. - "Is there a motel somewhere out here? Do you know the prices?" - You asked silently. Dear God, were you crying? What should he do? A crying woman, when did he encounter a situation tricky as this one the last time? His brain circuits almost burned up when he thought about what should he do with you. And suddenly... The small bulb was there. - "Um, are you a murderer or something like that?" - Jacob mumbled, trying to joke - and to his surprise, you joked back. - "I won't be killing anyone for you to repair my car with a discount." - This made him chuckle.

"That's good to know. I'll present you an idea, okay? Since I'm now sure you're not so mentally okay..." - "What did you say?" - Suddenly, you sprang up, making Jacob grin even more as he walked around the room. - "Nothing. All I'm saying is... The motel could get expansive for a long-term stay and I have one spare room above the shop. It's used for visitors mostly, so nothing you'd have to worry about. I'll ask ten bucks for a week and it would be kinda fine if you'd buy some food sometimes... And if you'd like to, you can help me out here - and in exchange for that, I'll give you a discount. I think I can lower the sum to 500, maybe 450 if I'll be lucky. I have to make something outta this, you know?" - The man leaned his ass into the car standing behind him, smiling at you carefully. Okay, this sure as hell was an act of pettiness, you could tell just by the look he gave you. But, honestly, he didn't seem to be that bad now.

Also, this was genuinely nice of him. When you imagined how much you'd pay for the motel, the car, and your food altogether, just for the two-week stay, your eyes rolled on their own. - "Why are you doing this?" - You asked quietly. You appreciated the help, you did, but it was strange. Maybe, if everyone was like the mechanic Jacob Black in Forks, the town wasn't half bad. - "Listen, I'm not some dude who would be into a kidnapping or other weird stuff... I just know how it's like not to have much money. You're young, driving this piece of crap, what do you work as, might I ask?" - "A teacher. I'll be starting in Tacoma this September." - Jacob didn't answer to your answer, he just rose his eyebrows to get his point across. - "Take it or leave it. That's all I'm saying." - "You also did miss the fact that I don't know cars at all." - There you were again, the joking-around girl he had seen just a few moments before. - "I also didn't say you'd get near my cars, God protects you if you'd try to do so. I have... Uh... Some problems with the administration if you wouldn't mind. Paperwork isn't my thing and picking up calls isn't my stick either." - "I've noticed."

For a moment, you've been looking at the dude in dead silence. Well, it was a risky plan - but you weren't in the position to do much more. Jacob gave you the best possible alternative you could hope for, it was just because he, under all the annoyance, could maybe be a pretty reasonable guy. - "I'll take your offer, only if I can tell the chief of local police that I'm staying in this workshop." - Jacob snorted at your condition, but he needed to say it was fair enough. - "Sure. So... Is that a deal?" - The man offered you a palm and you stood up, shaking it. - "It is a deal, Mr. Black. Name's Y/N, by the way. You probably should know that."

[twinsky]

if you have played twewy/a new day PLS interact

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 351: MAÂT

At the end of 2019, Growing Bin Records tossed a special surprise into one of my mailorder packages, which took the form of an unmarked and incorrectly sequenced test pressing of an upcoming release. Even without any context to anchor myself to, I dove over and over again into the entrancing landscapes of world music infused post-rock, cinematic sunset disco, solar stoner blues, seaside psych folk, balearic dub pop, organic studio jazz, and new age fusion contained therein, all the while feeling as if I had some secret sonic treasure completely to myself. And after spending a few weeks in blissful ignorance, having no clue where or when in the world this music was created, its source was finally revealed as the trio of Adrien Colle, Tim Karbon, and Maxime Castanet, otherwise known as MAÂT. Far from spoiling the magic though, knowing the authors of Solar Mantra only enhanced the experience, as did the loose ideological framework provided by the song titles and Alan Briand’s enigmatic artwork, for now, I had conceptual signposts to guide my imagination as it continued exploring the trio’s exotic environments, where rainforest rhythms anchor skeletal stoner blues riffs as smoke-shrouded vocals croon towards the sunset; where bass synths filter between fusion walks and subsonic growls while idiophones of every color splash and sparkle; where pastoral prog guitars jangle over the heavenly drone of an electric organ; where chanted harmonies flow into mantric incantations above spiritual synth cascades, swelling cymbal shimmer, and ambient funk basslines; and where heady angel voices melt down over soul-affirming expanses of dub-kissed dreampop psychedelia. I was also thrilled to discover that MAÂT dedicated the album to Don Cherry’s, Naná Vasconcelos’, and Collin Walcott’s work in Codona, a favorite group of mine who here provide less of a direct sonic inspiration and more so a spiritual one, as Solar Mantra sees another trio of gifted and sympathetic collaborators pushing each other to the limits of individual creativity in the search for sonic transcendence.

MAÂT - Solar Mantra (Growing Bin Records, 2020) In “The Walk,” echo-soaked toms, tambourines, and chain off snares gallop through the void while claps crack, four four kicks beat beneath dreamspace vibraphones, and desperate smears of singing fade into focus. Then everything cuts away, leaving space for ceremonial organs and fat acid basslines to ambulate beneath a pair of voices seeming to intone “can’t you see how they walk?” as bells and shakers swell violently. A squelching synth solo seeks out the sunrise and light kisses of dub delay work the snares as the track spreads further out into pastoral folk psychedelia, with ecclesiastical organ chords supporting jangling acoustic guitars. Vibraphones add soulful jazz flourishes and harmonize with bleary-eyed fusion leads as pleading vocals thread in and out of the stereo field and at the track’s conclusion, kick drums and shakers move together, hand drums spill over themselves, and those smokey vocal hazes continue flowing in round over light acoustic guitar brushstrokes, before it all ends in a fractal storm of xylophones and shakers. “Jaki & Bryn” comes to life on smoldering synth swells as twanging guitars play single note snake charmer leads before working into a potsmoke chug. Synthetic bells melt and pitter patter percussions pop beneath lyrical incantations, with everything slowly devolving into self-oscillating abstracting. As we snap to the groove, we find ourselves floating on a post-punk raga of skeletal guitar riffing while shakers and bongos guide the hypnotic groove. Organs dart and dash like fireflies and haunted vocalisms flow in each ear, with touches of downer prog and crooning blues mergin into a stoner lullaby. At some point, everything cuts away, leaving lonely lyricisms to float in the void, accompanied by a light panorama of shakers and melting chordscapes. Later, as ping pong echo drums rush us back into the groove, music box arps move drunkely over melting FM synth environments…the whole mix growing strange and alien. Subtle blasts of galactic magic suffuse the stereo field as we work towards the end and eventually, it all reduces to minimal guitar work and hazy vocal hymns, with drums clattering wildly and everything filtering towards darkness.

Minimalist organs join a dancing panorama of filtering chords in “Feuglace” before everything starts reversing in time. Subsonic drums and shakers emerge amidst a bubble cloud of echo-morphing vocal expressionism and as soul-soaked house chords pan across the spectrum, we drop into the groove proper, where dazzling cymbal patterns work around slap bass fusion lines while snares and claps swing on the beat. Idiophones play melancholic island melodies and at some point, the groove grows abstract, with militant percussions pounding then fading as kalimbas, marimbas, vibraphones, and tapped cymbals dance through a cloud of reverb. Then comes a smash cut into tribal hand drum rolls, Afro-folk guitar refractions, and ghostly vocal harmonizations while xylophones beat out sunshine refrains. And later, after the vocals morph into a cloud of fevered insect psychedelia, smeared deep house pianos return alongside handclaps and equatorial fusion basslines to guide an irresistible groove, wherein sparkling ride cymbals and cycling organ riffs refract sunshine and those scatting echo vocal swim far in the distance while the stereo swells with mutating choral hazes. The A-side closed with “Solar Mantra” and its steel pans dancing in a picturesque sunrise. Shakers and tambourines glitter over a tropical bongo groove and layers of plucked psaltery slowly suffuse the stereo field with a jangling dance of polyrhythmic string psychedelia. Sensual sub basslines soften the vibe and kalimba melodies fall like a gentle summer storm until suddenly, vocals ride in on effervescing tapestries of electronic drumming and sing towards the sky: “I want you to grow / praise the sun”. Bleary-eyed synths solo softly and vocal scats imitate shakers as everything reduces down to simplistic hand drumming, ambient thumb piano atmospheres, and plucked string shimmer. But eventually, the groove slowly builds back in strength, though somehow it all seems shambolic and barely held together as various passages flow in and around each other according to some unknowable logic, with plucked psaltery glowing and smokey vocals moving between the titular solar mantra and wordless soul reveries.

“Quetzal Pacino” builds wondrous anticipation from the outset, with mallets tapping and ethereal atmospheres swelling. Violins soar to the surface and drums take on a spaghetti western gallop before dropping into disco intoxication, with hi-hats working the mind via energetic double time flourishes and big synth basslines snapping and sliding. The background swirls with fantasy orchestrations and occasionally, marimbas emerge to beat out anthemic island melodies. Basslines filter into a monstrous growl, martial snare rolls portend some mighty climax, and radiant whooshes of electro-psychedelia flow across the mix until the drums drop away, leaving basslines and layered mallet instruments to pound on the beat, ride cymbals to swell into flashes of white light, and oceanic phaser strings to seek out the sky. Then, things reduce further and string synths start weaving paradise spells amidst a rainfall of cymbal shimmer. And as the extasy-laced disco groove builds back to epic proportions, with a sunset symphony swimming overheard and filtered basslines roaring, the vibe is of some thrilling chase scene…of convertibles careening down seaside highways in the light of the setting sun…the heart racing along with urgent disco drum pulsations while textures of tropical exotica subsume the spirit. Cosmic electronics harmonize with Renaud Guy-Rousseau’s clarinet in “Clairière,” with druidic cycles and ancient melodies spreading into delirium drone. Textured clicks move beneath howling ghosts while cymbal and rimshot splashes bring to life a tribalistic drum groove, which kicks fully into gear once romantic basslines begin executing drunken dances amidst layers of polyphonic idiophone mesmerism. Synths percolate like bubble clouds, hi-hats bash away, and moaning brass electronics mimic a siren until the rhythms disperse, leaving behind machine screams and computronic synth flourishes. Eventually, the clarinet re-emerges…its touches elegiac and reverb soaked jazz enticing the groove back into focus, now with sawing strings and sliding portamento sonics reminding me of the magisterial post-rock and desolate folk Americana of GY!BE, especially Efrim Menuck’s screwdriver guitar freakouts. 

In “Mount Bevray,” blurred e-piano bass chords support solar feedback swells as slap jazz and fusion funk basslines dance across shimmering ocean wave crests. Layered cymbal polyrhythms gleam in the sunlight, brass polysynths spread outwards into new age fusion cloudforms, and all the while, wordless vocal cycles build in support…these paradise incantations of impossible beauty…so simple yet so emotionally affecting. At some point its all obscured by dark filtering, with the cymbal patterns fading and synths soloing through banks of moonlit seafog. But soon, the radiant rhythms of tapped metal return, bringing with them the psych pop vocal cascades and nimble bassline motions as the background overflows with wavefronts of balearic bliss. “Llomé Dub” opens in a futuristic seaside saloon setting, where lofi island percussion and snake tail rattles surround daydream ivory leads and tapped cymbals fall like rain. Droning organs sing LSD lullabies and an upright piano flutters on an echo breeze until we lock into a breezy psych pop groove featuring Laurel Canyon basslines that occasionally transmute into subsonic bubbles and drums that swing and sway in the dubwsie sunshine. Echo modulating tom toms and hyperkinetic ride taps join dopamine choirs to background lazed acoustic guitar strums and after a devolution into crazed delay fx and anxious musique concrète, we transition towards one of the best musical moments of 2020, as vocalist Leya descends upon the mix like some balearic angel to sing flower power dream lullabies while heavy dub basslines skank over bopping reggae-pop drumbeats, body swaying clap rhythms, and soaring 60s organs. The good vibes only increase from here, as the song works itself into a breathtaking closed eye chorus seeing Leya’s vocals move towards pure wordless revery while crazed echo lasers whoosh upwards…the whole thing so perfect as to soar the spirit towards a cloudland paradise. Then, it all breaks down and returns again to the seaside western settings of the intro, as saloon pianos and echo panning guitars move over a ghost town bassline thump. And as the drums resume, bringing rimshot taps and a jazz pop swing, glorious cascades of piano chord mesmerism flow over seasick sequences and oceanic organ wavefronts before it all gives way to an outro of bleating synth detritus, abstracted ivory flutters, and underwater dub bass.

(images from my personal copy)

[fumabat]

Last night I drove around a bit after work to get my mind off of things.

You know how it goes.

The state of the world is in disarray and the weight of it is seemingly on your shoulders after smiling with your eyes for eight hours. Hands dry and cracked from constantly sanitizing surfaces and washing them while humming the chorus of “Raspberry Beret”, “Mr. Brightside”, what have you.

The sun was already setting and the air was cool for a change instead of that hot sticky summer heat you find yourself swimming in, swatting away mosquitos that travel like schools of buzzing fish.

I started to drive down an unfamiliar path.

I know this city, my city, like the back of my hand. And yet, I kept feeling a humming tug at my very core that pulled me into an area of dilapidated buildings I’d never seen before.

Piles of brick and rubble, cleared off with caution tape...nothing too out of the ordinary, what with everything going in and out of this town.

It wasn’t wise, I know.

But believe me when I say it was quiet. As the old cliché goes, it was too quiet.

Granted, I wasn’t expecting the sound of children playing outside however, there was not a whisper—not even a buzz. No cicadas screaming for a mate. No cars. Nothing.

Going 5mph down this road, I started to feel anxious so I turned on the radio hoping the sound of whatever “today’s hottest hits”, Delilah, even country music would comfort me in this eerie silence.

Every familiar station was pure static.

I couldn’t even decipher the sound of garbled music amongst the incessant fuzz.

It wasn’t until I approached a lone stop sign at the end of the block that one station came into focus with a sudden, lilting wail. I’d never heard anything from that station before. It was always pure radio silence. Why was I only now, while in this area, hearing music?

The solemn crooner continued, accompanied by the swell of strings. It was a cadence that, under normal circumstances, would fill me with tranquility. But in this instance, it seemed almost obscene. Dreadful.

It was exactly 8:25 PM.

105.5 FM.

The hum I felt in my core quickly turned into anguish and my stomach lined itself with the familiar sour of anxiety.

I know I should have just peeled out of that area as soon as possible, but instead I did the Millennial thing and pressed “record” on my phone.

I could only stand it for thirty seconds until nausea overwhelmed me.

It wasn’t wise, I know.

But please, I beg you, believe me when I say that when I drove through that intersection, once again all I heard was silence.

Well, from the radio station at least.

You know that moment when you’ve been holding your breath underwater and when you finally break the surface, the mundane sounds of the world rush back into your ears?

I won’t embellish and say that feeling was amplified, not at all. Life just went back to normal—whatever that even means today.

But I can’t shake that feeling, that ghost of the strange pull I felt toward the unfamiliar area.

Perhaps I entered a void.

[rodney-die-laughing-records]

The Hellflowers were photographed in front of Parisien radio station OuiFm @ouifm 102.3 FM and played four concerts in Paris in May. Their album POR VIDA drops 7/26/19 check The Hellflowers @thehellflowersband on Die Laughing Records @dielaughingrecords distribution by Cobraside @cobraside —— Frequency Within just back from a north west tour - a burst tyre and they damaged an axle - Frequency Within like road tours - their van had some trouble - shows went well and here is Message of the void EP also Die Laughing Records Cobraside @cobraside ——— The Unfortunate Bastard aka Dave Dalton “hey folks” unlike Loonee Tunes Dave never says “that’s all folks” cause he never stops. Dave from Cell Block 5 ( before) and Screaming Bloody Marys @screamingbloodymarys (now) also gets time to be label owner, booker and do a weekly radio show on wednesdays 11am Vegas Time on www.radiovegas.rocks and The Unfortunate Bastard 3 date tour @radiovegasrocks @dave.dalton.punk https://www.instagram.com/p/BzSiIlGiqv8/?igshid=1v7e8u6ibathb

[tisfan]

Ooohh holiday prompts! Either 'invitation' or 'parade' for Winteriron please!

“Hey,is this Bucky Barnes, from Bucky’sBroken-heart Blog?” the voice onthe phone was chipper, excited, and spoke as if the guy had drunk entirely toomany venti frappes in a row.

Bucky held his cell phone away fromhis ear for a moment to glare at the screen. What the hell? Okay, so his phonenumber technically was listed in the bio section of his blog, but who the fuckever looked at that, and for that matter, why the hell was someone calling himabout his blog? Most people who bothered to call him were bill collectors andhis mom.

“Yes?” Bucky said.

“You sound uncertain,” the mansaid. “You answer ��how to get over your ex’ letters on the internet?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, again. That muchwas true, he did do that. It had started as a joke, really, him screaming intothe void about his journey to get over Alexander Pierce, and then later makingdark humor jokes about his ex, and then later, answering self-help sort ofquestions from other people with similar problems.

He’d ended up being able tomonetize bitching about Alex in a public forum, and somehow, that had ended upbeing the best revenge ever.

“This is Tony Stark, DJ with WBAC,the Wayback FM, 98.3 on your dial for your smiles,” the man said, “and I’d loveto have you come in for an interview on our morning show, for the localcommute… we’d compensate you for your time, of course.”

Bucky held the phone out again,stared blankly. “Did I get an invitation to do a radio show? Is that what thisis?” Did people even listen to the radio anymore? Bucky was a Pandorasubscriber, and his friend Steve was constantly arguing that Spotify was betterif you liked Indie bands. (Bucky didn’t, really. He liked music that he wasfamiliar with, so he could just tune it into the background and sing, insteadof having to look up lyrics online – and while he was thinking about it, hefelt bad for people who used to listen to the radio before the internet, andmaybe he should be jotting these things down, because music was a big thing inboth relationships and post-relationships, and there were certain songs he’dlistened to after Alex proved himself to be a cheating bastard of a boyfriend…and maybe he should pay attention, because the guy on the phone was asking ifthe call had been dropped.)

“Sorry,” Bucky said. He wasn’t,really. Who the hell talked on the phone these days, either? “I got lost in myown thoughts.”

“Oh, well, that happens to the bestof us. Anyway, come on down to the studio – is Wednesday two weeks fromtomorrow too early –” pause “–great, we’ll do that, Wednesday at 6am, andwe’ll work you in. Compensation, I said that, right? Write you a check and feedyou donuts. Great! See you then!”

Bucky sighed. Apparently he wasdoing a radio interview. At least he probably didn’t have to dress up.

Turned out that Tony Stark, themorning DJ, was actually pretty funny, even if Bucky resented the fuck out ofhaving to get up early in the morning to listen to the show. (What the fuckeven was morning? He was a blogger for fuck’s sake. He didn’t do mornings!)He and his co-host, Pepper Potts, did a rapid patter that was entertaining andslick. And, a point in the station’s favor; they didn’t do the typicaldumb-guy, smart-girl routine. In the days that Bucky managed to wake up enoughto listen to the show, Pepper definitely came across as the sane host, and Tonywas the crazy guy who was up for anything, but neither of them wascondescending to the other, even in jest.

Tony did have a group of excitablefans that called themselves the Tony Stark Defense Squad; every day that Buckylistened, at least one of them called in to the show, usually to gush about anevent Tony had attended, or how sweet, smart, and brave Tony was. There wassome history there that Bucky wasn’t getting, obviously.

And there were no punch-down jokes,which Bucky appreciated. He’d had his entire sexuality made out as a punchlinefor a lot of his life, so not hearing any cracks on women, gays, people ofcolor, etc, made him pretty happy. (Well, as happy as he could be at seven inthe damn morning. Tony better have quality donuts. And coffee.)

By the time Bucky was ready to goon the show, he had to admit, he kinda had a little bitty crush on Tony Stark.Which was entirely doomed, he knew that. Everyone had heard the phrase “a facefor radio” and Tony probably didn’t look anything like what Bucky wasimagining. And, of course, the real Tony probably wasn’t much like radio Tony,even like Bucky wasn’t entirely like his blog persona.

The one who had his life togetherand who dared to give advice as if he was qualified for it. But whenever hisreaders wrote to tell him how much just having someone that listened, andcared, about their heartbreak, helped them, he couldn’t give it up. No matterhow much of a faker he felt he was.

He arrived at the station, day ofthe interview, a little early. He wouldn’t confess under threat of torture thathe’d mapped out his route twice on google maps, and had made the drive once,just to make sure. Bucky didn’t usually… go places. He had his routine downthat included getting a local service to deliver his groceries (he bought wayless Twinkies if he didn’t walk past the display, not to mention chips andstring cheese.) and going out maybe twice a month to anyplace that wasn’tClint’s house, or Steve’s place, or sometimes he did things with Nat when shedecided he needed some sort of cultural exposure, but she always drove for that.

“Hey,” Bucky said to thereceptionist, a skinny kid with a large nametag that read Peter.“I’m James Barnes, I’m here for–”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Barnes, I know,I’ve been waiting for you, thank God you’re here, Mr. Stark’s been climbing thewalls, well, you know, not literallyclimbing the walls, but… let’sget you down to the white room and we’ll do some quick publicity shots whileyou’re still fresh. Mr. Stark tends to frazzle people, so just– yeah, thisway, come on…”

Peter led Bucky down the hall to aroom with a huge light-box. A woman with a comb and a makeup kit did a fewquick adjustments before Peter shooed her away with a “photoshop is a thing!”admonishment. He took a few dozen pictures, headshots, and dynamic poses andthen had Bucky jump into the air a few times to get “action” shots.

Bucky was panting for breath and alittle sweaty by the time Peter directed him to Studio Four. Of course. He wasabsolutely not at his best when he was introduced to the most beautiful manBucky had ever seen.

Why the hell was this guy a radiodisc jockey? He could have been a movie star. Perfect face, gorgeous hair,adorable little goatee. And oh, holy fuck, when he turned around to introduceBucky to the co-host, Pepper, Bucky’s gaze was drawn down to the most beautifulass in history. Like, there should be a monument to that backside.

Pepper, when she shook Bucky’shand, smiled, her eyebrows up, as if she knew exactly what Bucky was thinking.And didn’t exactly disapprove.

“Welcome to the morning show,” shesaid. “Sit down, I’ll get you a donut. Here, look over this list, Tony’s selecteda bunch of breakup songs to play around your interview, let me know if any ofthem are triggering for you, and I’ll strike it off the list. We’ll be on afive minute delay during the interview, so if there’s a question you’reuncomfortable with, or something you don’t want to talk about, just say so, andwe’ll delete that. We’re here to promote you, and entertain our listeners, notmake anyone unhappy.”

“Does everyone around here drinkhigh octane?” Bucky whined, just a little bit plaintive. There was way too muchawake and go-go-go for this early in the morning.

“Yes, yes, we do. Coffee is awonderful thing, divine invention and all that,” Tony said. He pressed a cupinto Bucky’s hand. “And here’s yours. I don’t know how you like it, but we’vegot all the fixings back here. And you’ll sit there; chocolate donut okay? Ofcourse it is, what kind of heathen doesn’t like chocolate, well, aside fromPep, but she’s every sort of heathen, so that answers that question.”

“Yeah, okay, chocolate, yeah, that’s…you’re fine, I’m–”

Tony smirked. “I know I’m fine,” hesaid, winking. “You’re not so bad yourself. Next time, warn a guy, like wow. Iwas expecting a little more basement dweller, little less underwear model.”

“Tony,” Pepper said, shoving herco-host playfully. “Do not flirt with him.”

Tony pouted, giving Pepper, andthen Bucky, an enormous set of brown bambi eyes. Bucky could absolutely havedrowned in those eyes. “Why not? He’s cute. I want one.”

“Well, you can’t have one,” Peppersaid, firmly. “He’s a guest, stop bothering him.”

“I don’t get an opinion, here?”Bucky asked. He couldn’t help grinning. It’d been a while since anyone flirtedwith him at all, much less someone as knock-out gorgeous.

“See? See, it’s fine, we’re fine,come on, interview first, flirt later. Flirt during. Something. We’ll figure itout.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, okay. Flirtduring. That’ll be good. I’m off my game here, so by all means, let’s get meall flustered during my first official live broadcast.”

Pepper laughed. “Okay, you’ll dogreat. And I’ll just… stay out of the way.”

Tony flicked a switch in the boothand Little Mix’s Shoutout to my Excame on. “Good lead in, don’t youthink?”

“Sure,” Bucky said.

“Great. Sit down, get comfy, andwe’ll get started,” Tony said. 

[silverlily35]

*sigh* I do think she’s saying all this in good faith but it’s very frustrating. Six months ago I would have said that DLF had the artistic integrity to tell the story they planned to tell because they appeared to be defending TLJ / Rian against all criticism and the story group etc was making positive noises about continuing the themes from the previous two films in TROS. I thought FM types were screaming pointlessly into the void and should stop pestering creators about hating TLJ.

But then they released TROS which made it clear they do listen to exactly that sort of criticism on social media from certain types of fans and make major story decisions based on that feedback. They can’t then be surprised when other fans try to use the same methods to get what they want when they have already proven they can be badgered into caving. And now they’re really screwed because if they don’t cave going forward it will look like they just don’t care as much about getting / keeping female fans (whether that’s true or not, I can’t deny that it feels true right now).

This is why you don’t let Reddit write a movie. It’s always a losing game.

i can’t believe disney’s social media coordinator is asking fans to quiet down about ben solo. that makes me want to speak up even louder because clearly, they’re trying to silence the fans, and sweep this mess under the rug. it seems like they have no intention of fixing it either because i guess that means accepting accountability.

Yep! I guess this is our confirmation that DLF is doubling down and staying committed to their monsTROSity of a film.

[fm-kat]

I’m so excited to do physics full time (and make money off of it). 

[mutantdiscoradioshow]

Mutant disco by Leri Ahel #330

01. Golden bug feat. Julienne Dessagne - Un paradis artificiel (MR TC remix) (La belle records promo)

02. Konvex & the Shadow - 9 (Timothy "Heretic" Clerkin) (Azzur promo)

03. Null + Void - Into the void (HFN music promo)

04. Golden bug feat. Pajaro Sunrise - Taste of love (Il est vilaine remix) (La belle records promo)

05. Uncanny valley - Chain store (Manfredas remix) (Snap, crackle & pop promo)

06. Synkronized - Coma jam (In the dark again)

07. Tight pants - Nipples (Scream time action)

08. The Voynich manuscript - Cass red Atlantic (Autarkic remix) (Throne of blood recordings promo)

09. Null + Void - Asphalt kiss (HFN music promo)

10. Chloé - Nuit noire (Lumière noire promo)

Airing dates:

October 17th on Gradski radio Trogir (Croatia) October 17th on Radio Labin (Croatia) October 18th on Radio Maestral (Croatia) October 18th on Mix People FM (Spain) October 18th Dinamo FM (Turkey) october 20th on Radio Stacioni (Albania) October 21st Gradski radio Trogir (Croatia) (reprise) October 21st Radio Labin (Croatia) (reprise) October 21st Radio KLFM (Croatia) October 22nd on Radio Veronica FM (Italy) October 22nd on Radio Aparat (Serbia)

[fm-kat]

So. I’ve gotten a follow from the physics department on twitter... well there goes tweeting non-semi-professionally