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a-court-of-mischief-and-madness · 4 months

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Midnight revelations

Part 1 ----------- Part 2

Eris Vanserra x rhysand sister reader!

Summary: rhysand's sister has always felt lonely considering all the demons and skeletons from her past make her heart ice cold. What happens when she meets someone who has enough fire to warm her heart and unravel her?

Note: hi everyone this is my first time ever posting a story, I have always been addicted to writing but I have never publicly showcased my work. Therefore I urge you all to enjoy this. Feel free to leave a comment about what you think :)

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You clutched the fabric of your dress, a breathtaking gown that shimmered with every subtle movement. The deep, royal blue material cascaded down to the floor in luxurious folds, catching the light and creating a mesmerizing array of sparkling reflections that mimicked the starry night sky. The bodice was meticulously crafted, hugging your curves with an almost ethereal grace. Tiny, delicate crystals were sewn into the fabric, forming intricate patterns that danced along the neckline and down the fitted sleeves. These sleeves, adorned with intricate floral patterns, exposed just a hint of skin, creating an alluring contrast against the otherwise modest design.

The slit of the dress was daring, extending provocatively up to your upper thigh. With each step, it revealed a tantalizing glimpse of your leg, adding an element of sensuality to the otherwise elegant ensemble. The cool night air whispered against your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the chill, you felt a surge of confidence wearing the dress, its beauty giving you a sense of empowerment.

The Night Court had always been your sanctuary, a haven with your brother Rhysand and his mate, Feyre, after the harrowing events under the mountain. You silently cursed Amarantha for ever laying her hands on him, for the ball of trauma she had inflicted, now masked by his composed exterior. Tonight was a reunion for all the High Lords and their families, celebrating Amarantha's defeat. The meeting was to take place in the Court of Nightmares, a place you dreaded—not only because of Keir, but also because of the lecherous behavior prevalent there. Everyone had to mentally prepare to ensure nothing went wrong. You hated that daily routine of donning a cold mask, a habit that began over a hundred years ago...

"Kill the woman first," Tamlin's father barked, his voice cold and merciless.

"No, please, no. I'm begging you, please don't," you pleaded, your throat raw from weeping. Blood coated your arms and legs, seeping from the wounds on your back where the High Lord of the Spring Court had tried to clip your wings. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the terror you felt for your mother. Your wings had vanished when he tried, baffling him and fueling his rage. In his anger, he slapped you, the sting of it radiating from your cheek.

"It's okay, please do it to me but let her go," your mother sobbed, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. You tried to protest, but your mouth was clamped shut by some unseen force, preventing you from speaking or moving. You were helpless, forced to watch as the nightmare unfolded before you.

The High Lord of the Spring Court approached your mother with a knife, its blade glinting ominously in the dim light. Your mother looked at you with tear-filled eyes, her face etched with sorrow and resignation. "I love you," she mouthed, her lips trembling.

You screamed against the spell that held you, your heart shattering with every step he took. The knife glinted in the light, each reflection a dagger to your soul. He reached your mother, and without hesitation, he slashed her neck. Blood spurted from the wound, staining the ground crimson. Your mother crumpled to the floor, her eyes wide with shock and pain.

A guttural scream tore from your throat, louder and more primal than any sound you had ever made. It broke the spell that bound you, and Tamlin and his father staggered back, their faces painted with agony and shock. You rushed to your mother's side, falling to your knees beside her lifeless body.

"Mother, no," you sobbed, cradling her head in your hands. Blood seeped between your fingers, warm and sticky. Her eyes, once so full of life and love, were now empty and glassy. You rocked back and forth, your cries echoing through the cold, heartless chamber. The world around you seemed to blur and fade, your vision clouded by tears.

Suddenly, a familiar presence enveloped you, a comforting darkness that wrapped around your soul. Your brother Rhysand appeared, his power crackling in the air, but it was too late. The light in your mother’s eyes had already faded, her body growing cold in your arms. Rhysand's eyes widened with horror as he took in the scene, his rage palpable.

"She’s gone," you whispered, your voice broken and hollow. "She’s really gone."

Rhysand knelt beside you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. "I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with grief. "I’m so, so sorry."

The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that consumed your entire being. You clung to your mother’s lifeless form, your sobs echoing in the silence. The room around you seemed to spin, the walls closing in as darkness began to creep into your vision.

And then, everything went black.

When you awoke, the memory of your mother’s death was etched into your mind, a scar that would never heal. The image of her lifeless body, the blood, the pain, all of it haunted you. It was a nightmare that you relived over and over, a wound that time would never mend.

Tears sprang to your eyes, but you held them in. "Are you all right?" Azriel asked, his voice soft but filled with concern. His eyes searched yours, a hint of worry flickering in their depths. You smiled, stood from your seat, and quickly brushed away invisible stains on your dress, avoiding eye contact. "If you need to talk, I'm here, you know," Azriel spoke softly. You glanced up at him. Azriel wore a tunic of deep, rich purple that seemed to complement his dark, mysterious aura perfectly. The fabric clung to his muscular frame in all the right places, accentuating his strength and grace. It was clear that every detail of his outfit had been carefully chosen, from the intricate stitching along the seams to the subtle shimmer of the fabric in the candlelight.

The tunic was adorned with subtle embroidery, delicate patterns that seemed to dance along the fabric like shadows in the moonlight. The designs were understated yet elegant, adding a touch of sophistication to Azriel's otherwise simple attire.

His hair was freshly combed, the strands falling in dark waves around his face. Each lock seemed to catch the light, creating a halo of darkness that framed his chiseled features. There was a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself, a sense of power and authority that was impossible to ignore."You look handsome tonight, Shadowsinger," you said with a deflecting grin. He sighed, not appreciating the change of subject.

Just then as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, a gentle hand touched you from behind .You turned and your heart swelled with warmth as you beheld Feyre, her eyes sparkling with affection and admiration. She wore a gown as resplendent as your own, adorned with jewels that seemed to catch the light and reflect it back in a dazzling display of beauty.

"Feyre," you breathed, a smile spreading across your lips. Her presence was like a balm to your soul, a reminder that you were not alone in this world."You look stunning," Feyre said, her voice soft and full of sincerity. She reached out, taking your hands in hers, her touch gentle and reassuring. "Truly, you take my breath away."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, moved by her words and the genuine love that shone in her gaze. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "You look absolutely radiant yourself."

Feyre's smile widened, and she pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you close as if she never wanted to let go. The scent of her hair, mingled with the subtle perfume of flowers, enveloped you in a sense of comfort and belonging.

"I'm so glad you're here," Feyre murmured against your hair, her voice filled with emotion. "Tonight is a celebration of freedom, of hope, of new beginnings. And I couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone else."

You squeezed her hand, feeling a surge of gratitude and love for this woman who had become not just a friend, but a sister to you. "I'm glad to be here too," you replied, your voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill over. "With you, by my side, I feel like I can face anything."

Feyre pulled back, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that took your breath away. "You're stronger than you know," she said, her voice soft but filled with conviction. "And tonight, we'll show the world just how powerful you truly are."

As you shared a tender moment with Feyre, a familiar presence approached from behind. You turned to find Rhysand standing there, his eyes shining with pride and love. His gaze swept over you, taking in every detail of your gown with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"Wow," he breathed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips at his words, feeling a swell of warmth in your chest at his sincere praise. Rhysand had always been a pillar of strength and support, and his approval meant more to you than words could express.

"Thank you, Rhys," you replied, your voice soft but filled with gratitude. "It means the world to me."

Rhysand stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, yet electric, sending a shiver down your spine. "You deserve all the happiness in the world," he murmured, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "And tonight, I hope you find it."

"I'm just grateful to have you both by my side," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "You and Feyre mean everything to me."

Rhysand smiled, a soft, affectionate smile that reached his eyes. "We'll always be here for you," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "No matter what" you gave him a small smile.

"I suppose Nesta and Cassian won't be joining us tonight," Rhysand remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Feyre chuckled, shaking her head knowingly. "I believe they've found a different way to celebrate," she said with a teasing smile. Rhysand groaned theatrically, rolling his eyes. "Let's just hope they don't add to the drama with some new trauma," he quipped, his tone filled with mock exasperation.

Feyre giggled, her laughter ringing with warmth and affection. She nudged Rhysand playfully. "Oh, come now. They're just taking advantage of the freedom we fought so hard for," she said, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Rhysand sighed dramatically. "Well, let's hope they remember their manners this time," he said with a smirk, earning a laugh from Feyre.

You linked your hands with Azriel and shot Rhys a wink and a smirk. "Not like you were any different, brother." Feyre laughed, and Rhys nudged her playfully before Azriel winnowed you away.

The ballroom was opulently decorated, the light casting a warm glow on the throng of guests. All the High Lords were present: Tarquin, Tamlin—who you barely glanced at—Kallias and Vivien, looking regal as always, and Beron with his son Eris. You despised Eris for what he did to your cousin Mor, the reason she couldn't attend tonight.

For a moment, your gazes locked. Eris's amber eyes roamed over you, lingering on the delicate embroidery that adorned your gown, the way it hugged your curves with subtle grace. There was a glint of curiosity in his gaze, an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His smirk deepened slightly, a knowing glint flickering in his eyes as he took in your appearance.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks under his unabashed scrutiny, a mixture of annoyance and a strange thrill. With a subtle shift, you turned away but his amber eyes seemed to catch yours at every turn despite your efforts to avoid him, a smirk forming on his lips as he assessed you. You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks as you took your seat next to Azriel.

Rhysand began briefing everyone as each High Lord took turns expressing their joy at being free.

You looked down as Feyre spoke, "Please enjoy this party, take it as a new beginning." All the High Lords rose and began to mingle. You stood, but Azriel caught your hand. "Where are you going?" he asked, worry in his eyes. "Relax, Azriel, I'm just getting a drink," you said, and he nodded, releasing you. Rhysand seemed to have noticed and looked at Azriel; you knew they were communicating silently. As you moved gracefully through the crowded ballroom, the delicate fabric of your gown rustling with each step, you made your way towards the wine table. The air was filled with laughter and music, the chatter of High Lords and Ladies mingling in a harmonious symphony of celebration.

Just as you reached for a glass of wine, a sudden commotion broke out nearby. A drunken couple stumbled past you, their unsteady steps threatening to knock into you.

You stumbled, your balance faltering as you teetered on your heels. In an instant, you felt a pair of strong hands grip your waist, steadying you before you could fall. Heat surged through your body at the contact, your heart pounding in your chest. You looked up, breath hitching, and met those familiar amber eyes. Eris. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something that made your pulse quicken. The smirk on his lips was infuriatingly confident as his hands lingered on your waist, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive drawl that sent shivers down your spine. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

His words were laced with a teasing edge, but there was an underlying sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. You tried to step back, to create some distance between you, but his hands tightened slightly, holding you in place. The room around you seemed to blur, the noise of the party fading into the background as your senses narrowed to the man standing before you.

"You should watch where you're going," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "This place can be dangerous."

"Thank you," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to appear unaffected. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. "But I can take care of myself."

He chuckled softly, a rich, melodic sound that sent another wave of heat through you. "I'm sure you can," he replied, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was light, almost tender, and it took everything in you not to lean into it.

You finally managed to step back, his hands reluctantly releasing you as you put some much-needed distance between you. "Is that any way to thank someone?" Eris drawled, the smirk never leaving his face.

You took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the lingering warmth from his touch and the way your heart was still racing. "Thank you," you said again, more firmly this time. "But I don't need your help."

"Of course," he said, inclining his head slightly. "But the offer stands."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind swirling with a mixture of irritation and something else—something you weren't quite ready to acknowledge. You watched him go, his confident stride and the way the light caught his hair making it hard to look away.

Finally, you took a deep breath and made your way back to your seat, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingled where he had touched you. You sat down next to Azriel, who gave you a questioning look. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied, offering him a reassuring smile. "Just ran into an old... acquaintance."

Azriel's gaze flicked briefly to where Eris had gone, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "If you need anything..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off gently. "Thank you, Azriel."

As the night went on, you tried to focus on the celebration, on the laughter and the music and the sense of freedom that permeated the room. But every now and then, your thoughts would drift back to Eris, to the way his hands had felt on your waist and the look in his eyes. And you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to him than you had ever realized.

#azriel x reader #eris x oc #eris vandaddy #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris #rhysand sister #feyre x rhysand #rhys acotar #azriel #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #eris fic #eris x y/n #eris x you

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weatheredfailnot · 9 months

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Please take these sections from EE3 on the Shadowkeeper (Cylva) because I love her so dearly

Transcript below:

A NAME SPOKEN IN WHISPERS

Around the time Ardbert and his comrades left Tomra, they stumbled upon evidence of the larger design. Threads linking together the disparate troubles of the realm. A name spoken only in whispers— the Shadowkeeper.

A singular force sowing chaos and discord throughout Norvrandt to an unknown end.

During Nyelbert's search for an energy source to replace the crystal he shattered, he began to suspect that the now-lost stone was not, in fact, a naturally occurring mineral, but rather had been deliberately placed under the mountain. Pursuing the truth of that theory led them to discover a connection to Lamunth, the gem counterfeiter whom Ardbert and Lamitt apprehended so long ago in Nabaath Areng. When they visited Lamunth's gaol cell to interrogate him, however, they found the man convulsing on the floor and frothing at the mouth. Ere the poison took his life, he managed to sputter the name of the Shadowkeeper. Further investigation revealed that this sinister figure had ordered Lamunth to secret the crystal in the mine shafts, and in return rewarded him with the illusory magicks he would employ in his forgeries.

They also came to learn that Tadric, the mastermind behind Voeburt's monstrous plague, had not worked alone. Research documents recovered from the court mage's laboratory mentioned the Shadowkeeper by name, the meticulous entries describing how the arcane lore shared by his co-conspirator had contributed to the completion of his transformation magicks.

The mining industry of Nabaath Areng threatened with demolition.

A scheme culminating in the death of Voeburt's royal heirs. The Shadowkeeper had plotted the downfall of two mighty nations, and Ardbert's band feared that Lakeland, the third of Norvrandt's major powers, would be next.

Lo and behold, a rebellion erupted in the home of the elves. The reigning king was deposed, and the Shadowkeeper, their heretofore faceless nemesis, took the throne.

The elven king, Lelfrey, was a passionate proponent of the arts- music and dance in particular- with his focus on such refined pursuits earning him equal praise and scorn. His was a peaceful rule, free of war and strife, but this passivity cost his kingdom dearly in matters of foreign diplomacy. A poor negotiator, he ceded border territories to Voeburt to avoid conflict, and signed an economic agreement with Nabaath Areng that put Lakeland at a clear disadvantage.

As these political blunders chipped away at the nation's authority, a sentiment of discontent among Lakeland's high-ranking nobility began to fester and grow. Traditionalists dreamed of a return to the golden age when all of Norvrandt lay under their control, and it was the Shadowkeeper who granted them the power to act. Rumors that this new player was the king's bastard child ran wild, and, true or not, served to unify the disgruntled nobles under a single banner. They indulged in treachery to undermine rival nations, while at home, their assassins targeted influential royalists. The scene was set for revolution.

The Shadowkeeper was attended by two dark-robed mages, by whose malevolent arts the traditionalists were empowered. One of their gifts was lupine transformation, a change which granted the recipient preternatural strength and agility. Thus bolstered by a company of these wolfman soldiers, the Shadowkeeper's faction stormed Laxan Loft and captured the royal seat for their leader. No sooner had the winning side declared a new age of glory for the elves than did they muster their forces and launch an invasion into Voeburtite lands.

Caption reads: The Shadowkeeper emerged amid blood and chaos, a formidable and enigmatic figure perpetually encased in stygian plate armor. Similarly clad in midnight raiment, the Shadowkeeper's forces inspired terror in all who witnessed their advance.

THE BATTLE OF LAXAN LOFT

The heroes were poised to continue their search for Nyelbert's replacement stone in Nabaath Areng when the silver-haired Cylva abruptly left the party. The swordswoman excused herself on the premise that she wished to reconnoiter the troubling situation in Lakeland, but in truth, she was hurrying back to don her black armor, unsheathe her blade, and lead the elven traditionalists in their rebellion. Cylva, the great deceiver, had been the Shadowkeeper all along.

She was, in truth, no bastard child of King Lelfrey-that was merely a fiction concocted by Mitron and Loghrif, her Ascian accomplices. Her true origin lay in the Thirteenth, where she had died young and powerless, an unrealized champion of the reflection-turned-void. The Ascians had found her in the moment of her demise, and it was they who brought her soul to the First to serve as a pawn in dark machinations.

Cylva was to insinuate herself into Ardbert's band, and guide them along the path to becoming Warriors of Light. That which they cast aside in their journey towards heroism, she would take into herself, growing ever stronger as a disciple of Darkness. And when all was in readiness, she would reveal herself as the villainous Shadowkeeper. By her hand would the Warriors of Light be slain, and despair sown in the hearts of the populace.

What the Ascians did not plan for was the Shadowkeeper's defeat at the hands of Ardbert's party. Cylva had steadily amassed her power, feeding on her erstwhile comrades' respective sacrifices of personal ambition, innocence, independence, and tradition. Yet despite her best efforts, Ardbert would not forsake what she sought to purloin- his caring heart.

Even in the midst of their deadly confrontation, he regarded her as a comrade in need of saving.

Thus denied her full ascension, the Shadowkeeper wavered and fell.

Swallowing their grief at the loss of a friend, the heroes turned their wrath towards the villains who had orchestrated this tragedy. The Warriors of Light now shone so brightly that even high-ranking Ascians could not stand against their incandescent fury. Even as Ardbert struck his final blow, fulgent power swelled in a cataclysmic wave, and the Flood of Light was unleashed upon the lands of the First.

Caption reads: In her bid to slay the Warriors of Light, Cylva turned her transformation magicks upon herself. Though Ardbert and his comrades did indeed struggle against this formidable lupine abomination, it was the necessity of striking down their former friend that presented the greatest challenge.

#FFXIV #Cyella #Cylva #My posts

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ask-lord-morgarath · 7 months

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With Exquisite Taste And Unyielding Ambition

Greetings, inferiors! At the recent behest of @peapodsinspace of the Tumblr realm, I, Lord Morgarath of the Mountains of Rain and Night, have deigned to grace you with a guide upon mastering the art of attire befitting a true sovereign of darkness. Know that this guide merely scratches the surface of a topic that is as boundless as the abyss itself, for each facet discussed herein deserves an entire tome of its own. But for now, prepare to elevate your sinister presence to unprecedented heights- a transformation that will leave even the most stalwart of peasants trembling in awe.

Let us begin with the foundation of any distinguished ensemble: fabrics. Only the most exquisite materials should be considered. Velvet murmurs of opulence and refinement, while leather proclaims dominion and vigor. Silk, satin, and brocade drip with extravagance and decadence, while chainmail and armor exude the icy breath of mortality itself.

When it comes to colors, one must fully embrace the myriad shades of darkness in both heart and wardrobe. Deep, commanding hues such as obsidian black, blood red, royal purple, and midnight blue are essential staples of the discerning dark lord's palette.

But let us not forget the importance of lines and silhouettes, for they are the language of fashion, speaking volumes without uttering a word. Broad shoulders, tapered waistlines, and elongated contours create an aura of strength and dominance while asymmetry, sharp angles, and clean lines imbue your ensemble with a sense of ruthless precision. Remember that every stitch and seam must be executed with the utmost care, for even the slightest imperfection is a stain upon the canvas of your impeccable image.

A true connoisseur must be astute in discerning the appropriate garments for every occasion and possess a wardrobe suited to all eventualities. Apparel for the palace should be sumptuous yet pragmatic, allowing for fluid movement while still projecting an aura of regal authority. Opt for luxurious fabrics such as velvet or silk, and don't shy away from bold embellishments such as intricate embroidery, high collars, and flowing sleeves, trains, and cloaks.

For occasions requiring a more overt display of power, practicality must take precedence over pomp. To venture onto the battlefield is to embrace the use of leather and chainmail. Your garb must be plated and reinforced, your armor forged from the finest steel, meticulously crafted to withstand the onslaught of your adversaries while striking fear into their hearts.

Lords or otherwise, we must all take heed of the elements when selecting attire. Cloaks of fur-lined velvet shield against winter's chill, while lightweight silk garments protect from the sun's searing rays, ensuring comfort and resilience in any climate.

Even the ground upon which you tread should tremble in awe of your presence. Choose footwear that commands respect, whether striding through the corridors of your stronghold or trampling over the vanquished on the field of battle. Polished black leather boots are suitable for traversing both castle halls and treacherous terrain. Spiked heels, high and imposing, shall elevate you above the common rabble and leave indelible marks upon the earth, a reminder that you walk where others fear to venture.

For those brave enough to gaze upon your countenance, let your makeup be a testament to your unearthly charm. With a subtle touch, employ deep and dramatic tones to highlight your features, commanding attention to eyes ablaze with the fires of ambition and lips, crimson as spilled lifeblood, that murmur of dominion. You shall simultaneously intimidate and captivate, ensnaring all who behold you in the spell of your allure.

Next, we turn our focus to accessories to complete the ensemble. Leave behind trinkets and baubles fit for peasants- your ornaments should be as formidable and majestic as your reign. Beautifully-wrought jewelry crafted from precious metals and gemstones. Rings adorned with the sigils of one's house. Chains of blackened silver, each link a testament to the bonds of servitude that bind your subjects to your will. A finely wrought dagger, besides making a statement of elegance, can be a captivating plaything and an instrument of coercion. The ever-effective poison ring, a subtle yet stylish tool for dispatching adversaries with a mere flick of the wrist.

As a ruler of darkness, it is only fitting that you acquire for yourself a crown befitting your station. Choose one crafted from the finest materials, adorned with menacing spikes and intricate filigree. Whether it be decorated with faceted jewels or fashioned from the bones of your fallen foes, let it be synonymous with exquisite taste and unyielding ambition, and wear it with the aloof dignity befitting one who holds dominion over all they survey.

Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, never allow your façade to slip. Keep your garments immaculately tailored, your accessories polished and gleaming, and your demeanor calculating and elegant. Remember, it is not enough simply to look the part of a dark lord- you must live and breathe it, until even the shadows themselves dare not cross your path.

In conclusion, my dear acolytes, remember that true power lies not only in the wielding of swords and sorcery but also in the mastery of one's own image. Embrace the darkness within, let your wardrobe serve as testament to your malevolent magnificence, and revel in the fear and awe that your presence inspires. Now, go forth and conquer the world of fashion with the same ruthless determination with which you seek to conquer all else.

#lord morgarath's guide to everything #lord morgarath #morgarath #ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice

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best-of-basslines · 7 months

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Song Masterpost

[I was planning on linking all the songs to versions on Youtube, but apparently it goes over the number of links allowed on a post. Instead, the songs will be linked on each poll.]

Talk Talk - "It's My Life"

Kajagoogoo - “Too Shy”

The Beach Boys - “Good Vibrations”

Rush - “New World Man”

Cream - “Spoonful”

The Police - “Message in a Bottle”

Jackson 5 - “I Want You Back”

Diana Ross - “I’m Coming Out”

Diana Ross and the Supremes - “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted”

The Supremes - “You Can’t Hurry Love”

The Jam - “Town Called Malice”

David Essex - “Rock On”

Radiohead - “15 Step” | “Paranoid Android”

Michael Jackson - “Thriller” | “Billie Jean”

Elton John - “Dirty Little Girl”

Angra - “Nothing to Say”

Serú Girán - “La Grase de las Capitales”

Os Mutantes - “Ando Meio Desligado”

Bill Withers - “Lovely Day”

Blur - “Girls and Boys”

Sly and the Family Stone - “Thank You (Falettinme be Mice Elf Again)”

Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band - “Express Yourself”

Jr. Walker and the All Stars - “(I’m a) Road Runner”

Marvin Gaye - “I Heard it through the Grapevine” | “Midnight Lady”

Marvin Gaye and Tammi Tarrell - “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”

Red Hot Chili Peppers - “Higher Ground” | “Snow (Hey Oh)” | “Give It Away”

Primus - “My Name is Mud” | “Is it Luck?” | “Lacquer Head”

Beck - “Go It Alone”

The Fabs - “That’s the Bag I’m In”

The Shapes - “College Girls”

Herbie Hancock - “Chameleon”

Pink Floyd - “Money”

Rasputina - “Secret Message”

Madonna - “Material Girl”

Was (Not Was) - “Walk the Dinosaur”

Lemon Demon - “Jaws”

Creedence Clearwater Revival - “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”

Steve Miller Band - “The Joker”

Violent Femmes - “Blister in the Sun”

War - “Low Rider”

Poppy - “Motorbike”

Tokyo Jihen (Tokyo Incidents) - “Noudouteki”

Graham Central Station- “Hair”

Oingo Boingo - “Dead Man’s Party”

Vulf Peck - “Deantown”

Iroha (feat. Rin Kagamine) - “Meltdown”

Labi Siffre - “I Got The…”

Deep Purple - “Space Truckin’”

The Breeders - “Cannonball”

Earth Wind and Fire - “Let’s Groove”

Parliament - “Give Up the Funk”

Liquid Liquid - “Cavern”

Melle Mel - “White Lines (Don’t Do It)”

Tiger Army - “Cupid’s Victim”

Limp Bizkit - “Nookie”

White Zombie - “Black Sunshine”

Alice in Chains - “Rooster”

Pearl Jam - “Daughter”

Norah Jones - “Cold Cold Heart”

Joy Division - “Transmissions” | “Disorder”

Metallica - “Orion”

Anthrax - “Caught in a Mosh”

Muse - “Hysteria” | “Plug in Baby” | “Futurism”

Arctic Monkeys - “Fake Tales of San Francisco” | “A Certain Romance” | “Dancing Shoes”

Bauhaus - “Double Dare” | “Kick in the Eye”

Chic - “Good Times” | “Everybody Dance”

Royal Blood - “Better Strangers”

Fleetwood Mac - “The Chain”

Iron Maiden - “Aces High”

The Damned - “Neat Neat Neat”

The Smiths - “Barbarism Begins at Home”

New Order - “Age of Consent”

Talking Heads - “Psycho Killer”

Romeo Void - “Never Say Never”

Cocteau Twins - “The Hollow Men”

Rage Against the Machine - “Killing in the Name” | “Bulls on Parade”

Dance Gavin Dance - “Don’t Tell Dave”

Queen - “Another One Bites the Dust” | “Dragon Attack”

Gorillaz - “Feel Good Inc.”

Megadeth - “Peace Sells”

Korn - “Got the Life”

Pantera - “Cowboys from Hell”

Queen + David Bowie - “Under Pressure”

Stevie Wonder - “Superstition”

Shiina Ringi - “Koufukuron (Etsuraku-hen)”

The Temptations - “My Girl”

Paramore - “Ain’t it Fun”

Måneskin - “For Your Love”

The Seatbelts - “Tank!”

Cake - “The Distance”

Gloria Gaynor - “I Will Survive”

Miles Davis - “Bitches Brew”

The Fall - “I Feel Voxish”

Public Image Ltd - “Swan Lake (Death Disco)”

Thelma Houston - “Don’t Leave Me This Way”

Killdozer - “King of Sex”

The Beatles - “Hey Bulldog” | “I Want You (She’s so Heavy)” | “Lady Madonna” | “Dear Prudence” | “I Will”

Wings - “Silly Love Songs”

Lou Reed - “Walk on the Wild Side”

White Stripes - “Seven Nation Army”

Gang of Youths - “Achilles Come Down”

AJR - “Sober Up”

Duran Duran - “Rio”

The Who - “Baba O’Riley” | “Getting in Tune”

Yes - “Roundabout”

Led Zeppelin - “Ramble On” | “Dazed and Confused”

The Cure - “Lovesong” | “The Lovecats”

#not a bassline poll #blog update #song masterpost

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