#prompt: I wanna dance with somebody by sleep token

[hitlikehammers]

wouldn’t it be WILD if steddie were heartbroken 💔 without each other (steve thinking eddie’s dead 💀 post s4/eddie in super intense secret WITSEC and couldn’t find steve if he tried 🫥) but they’re both actually secretly making 🎶music🎶 ABOUT EACH OTHER & THEIR BROKEN HEARTS?!?!?!????

…and both of them are hearing it?

Today for @steddielovemonth y’all are going to be subjected to a very indulgent snippet for a fic I have about a million words of headcanon and backstory for, but can never be allowed to write.  EVER.  Quick summary for the context: post S4, Eddie’s whisked away for treatment and healing and then given a new identity so everyone who ever knew him thinks he’s dead. This is not appreciated by Eddie at all bc he thought he and Steve were…that they had a ✨SPARK✨ He eventually settles; finds musical success in paving the way in some metal-adjacent genre fusion (can’t outright be as he was, ofc, he is IN WITSEC) Weird, then, when a masked, intentionally anonymous and deeply private metal-fusion-y group (think 🎵🎸Ghost meets Sleep Token🎵🎹) start climbing the charts to encroach on join his territory. Extra weird that their lyrics are all about either metaphors that only barely hide viscerally-disturbing violence that sometimes ping Eddie’s nightmares a little close to home, or even more often: love. Lost love. Lovesickness because of the lost love.  So much love. Again: weird.  The fact that the lead singer reminds Eddie of Steve from the first roll of his hips onstage means nothing; to this day, everything reminds Eddie of Steve.

rating: t ♥️ my only remaining note is to encourage that you listen to the link in the prompt 🎶

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: 🎵 I wanna dance with somebody - Sleep Token

Eddie had done the calculus in this head. No one had seen him in public for years, now. He’s far from Hawkins, and the government locked the truth down hard: there hadn’t been coverage that went widespread. He’d fought them on the whole fucking thing as soon as he was conscious and understood they’d taken him to treat him, but had no intentions of letting him go back.

Disappearing under interdimensional-WITSEC was one thing. One already unacceptable thing he never agreed to. But…when he found out everyone thought he was dead?

That…that—

Even take out the way things had, like, Eddie could have sworn there was something real sparking between him and Steve—not just because the way he held himself back from kissing him goodbye luck, good luck when they split up in that last stand would not have been their first, Eddie’d gotten actual proof that all the taffy-thick tension and the fucking looks weren’t just things he was weighing up with his own want in the shape of Steve’s lips on his own. In the knowledge of what Steve Harrington fucking tastes like.

It was an all around dick move, is the point.

And he misses his people. His friends.

For the way he’s yet to pass a day without thinking of Steve: he misses the man he was already most of the way in love with.

But that’s how it ends up even being a question: can he risk leaving the house and entering a place so crowded and contextually ‘risky’ as a fucking concert.

He sells it mostly as market research, rather than him just trying to the fuck out of the house. It can be both, really, but in reality? It’s not a threat to him directly—sure as shit couldn’t convince his G-man handler out the gate to try and be a metal musician the way he’d always wanted to, but he’s found (not easily, <i>not</i> easily) a way to weave genres so he’s as unrecognizable now in his discography as he’s been forced to be physically: scruff on his cheeks, head always covered in some absurd new hat, part of the bit, part of how he gets away with being too lazy, still to maudlin to keep his hair shorn tight—he needs something to tear at on the worst nights or he will fucking lose what laughable grasp on sanity he has left, so.

But the whole multi-genre thing’s kinda his corner. So he tells himself that’s the real reason he’s here. At this show, in public. For a metal-adjacent fusion act that’s rocketing up the charts for their cross-genre innovations, not to mention their rip-your-heart-out approach to lyrics.

So maybe part of Eddie’d come to size up the competition in person, seeing as these motherfuckers are the gods of anonymity—paint and masks like KISS on steroids, but a little flair of mystique, like robes and veils and just…drama that walks the tightrope of being too much in a way that’d ruin it, that’d take them down hard just as they’re still on the rise but they…they manage it.

Fuck if Eddie knows how, walking in to the venue that night.

By the encore, though, now?

Well, shit.

They don’t talk on stage—Eddie’s heard they don’t talk at all, the bare number of interviews they give all being written exchanges, save for who he thinks is one of the two fucking drummers, but they use some kind of voice alternation like they’re the motherfucking FBI and this is Deep Throat calling. Eddie gets that it adds to the drama, but also their claim to not want the attention on themselves, only their music: good or bad. And if that’s honest, Eddie can respect it.

And in person, after this: he can certainly respect the effect that it has on the music itself in how it’s received on the ground, Jesus.

The whole thing is a well oiled machine made of human fucking emotion, which is kind of goddamn absurd. But the impact, the fact that it works, feels like it’s mainly credit to the lead singer—he’s got a code name thingy but fuck if Eddie remembers it; fuck if Eddie remembers anything with that figure, not even a face, but that body mostly hidden by paint and a robe he could swear had a twin he used for Hellfire in the old theatre room—but the lead singer. He’s conducted the stage for the whole fucking show less like a director with their annoying pointy stick and more…more half like a king, but higher, a nameless deity, and god-emperor with no face but then at the very same time, leaping in like a battle master, a general rallying troops he will die for before he loses, and so will push them past the brink to keep them safe, no matter the costs. He seems to push himself the hardest, by far.

Maybe too far.

There’s a danger in the whole display, that way—something spellbinding; riveting. It grasps Eddie from the inside, those big hands on the microphone reaching to squeeze his heart and stroke his lungs as much as to stroke something lower, lower, harder—

Fuck. Well.

Here he is. And if the lights weren’t still down, he’d think the set was over.

But then Mr. Lead(-me-down-a-dark-alleyway-and-have-your-way-with-me) swaggers back on from the wings, to the kind of insanity, the pitch of screaming and applause that Eddie thinks requires ear protection all on its own. And the Lead has been keeping the crowd in order as much as his band, the mastermind behind the offensive, with the protective drive he exudes, this weird feeling like he’s…proud when the fans move and sway and push and break and sing and sob—like they matter. Like he cares, without saying a goddamn word.

Now he hold his hands up: peace, still, quiet, and they obey. Everyone. It’s…uncanny.

A piano appears behind him, and anarchy unfolds again in an instant.

Eddie noticed a lot of piano, especially from the Lead-man, and how it’s been used in unexpected ways, especially with the doubled-up drums, hell, the multiple players on various instruments, the way they’ve put together an orchestra without it sounding forced or overcrowded, pretentious or unnecessary.

The lone figure walks toward the edge of the stage, away from the baby grand, and tilts his head, extends a hand again but only one this time—it quiets but doesn’t wholly quell the noise and then he shifts his body weight, a hand settling on his hip; his judgement playful but powerful.

Everyone is silent again. Eddie is…fucking floored.

The Lead waits, surveys every inch of the crowd in a way that feels like he actually sees everyone from behind his mask, Eddie included, and isn’t that a thought for lonely night in the near future, goddamn.

Eventually, though, he nods, satisfied with..something, and struts to his piano.

Eddie is left in those moments being too fixated on how unsatisfied he is by comparison, in very specific ways, until the keys ring out.

Like starlight. Like drops made of angel tears or some shit.

And then Eddie recognizes the song.

It’s all over the fucking radio—the original—so much even he can’t avoid it, but in truth he doesn’t really want to. Whitney is a massive fucking talent and the song’s catchy as hell.

But this man. This man.

He’s reshaping it into something deeply other.

And maybe later Eddie will marvel at how the song’s being reimagined, at the technical level. Will pick apart the genius, wonder at the inspiration of transforming what’s on the charts into this.

But for now he can only watch. Jaw dropped. People around him are actually crying for the feeling in this man’s voice, spare and personal and otherworldly—and Jesus H., Eddie feels fucking close to tears himself, what the actual fuck.

He doesn’t play the whole thing—ends. Stands. Bows. The crowd erupts on a delay as the Lead’s mostly out of sight. Eddie…

Eddie is still stuck on what he just witnessed.

Mainly—unexpectedly—the words.

He says man, like the radio version: need a man who’ll take a chance—

Which could mean nothing. Could just be respecting the masterpiece as written.

But then Eddie, replaying it all in his head, doesn’t think he’s making up that the Lead on stage just now failed to change up the lyrics, as the original did intend in one specific place.

He’s clear about the call of his loneliness. Fuck, half their songs make that real clear. But.

He never once sang this song—picked deliberately, crafted so elegant and raw—but never once did follow the original and sing about his lonely heart.

But again.

Could just mean nothing.

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divider credit here and here and here

[mcflymemes]

"TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN" BY SLEEP TOKEN PROMPTS *  assorted lines from the album, some slightly reworked to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

it was no accident.

you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood.

you've got me in a chokehold.

it's all the same to me.

it makes no difference.

i've seen my days unfold.

i've done the impossible.

show me that which i cannot see, even if it hurts me.

show me the way.

you've got my body.

raise me up again.

take me past the edge.

i want to see the other side.

won't you show me what it's like?

did i mistake you for a sign from god?

are you really here to cast me off?

maybe you're here just to turn me on.

i would be lying if i told you that i didn't wish i could be your man.

you won't ever have to talk about it.

i was more than just a body in your passenger seat.

you were more than just somebody i was destined to meet.

i see you go half-blind when you're looking at me.

you gave me nothing whatsoever.

you say you want me, but you know i'm not what you need.

you sit there acting like you know me.

if you had a problem, then you should've told me.

keep an eye on the road.

i can't get enough.

no wonder my ears are still ringing.

you have become the voice in my head.

my life is torn.

are you in pain like i am?

will the pain stop if we go deeper?

i wanna go where nobody else will ever go.

there is always something in the way i wanna have you to myself for once.

you take what you want, then leave.

who made you like this?

tell me you met me in past lives.

won't you come and dance in the dark with me?

anything's better than the way i feel right now.

you make me wish i could disappear.

don't you know i was trying to hold back the darkness?

are you really okay?

you woke me up one night, dripping crimson on the carpet.

i saw it in your eyes.

don't you know i could see it in you even now?

i cannot fix your wounds this time.

i don't believe you when you tell me you are fine.

please don't hurt yourself again.

why are you never real?

i am trembling with fear.

this scar will never fade.

just let me go or take me with you.

do you wish that you loved me?

is there something you give that you will never receive in return?

do you know what it is?

are you trying to live like everything is a lesson to learn?

can you ever forgive yourself?

do you ever believe that we can turn into different people?

it's getting harder to be myself.

for so long, i have waited.

i don't wanna get in your way.

touch me again.

you have got your hooks in me.

you get what you give.

i can hear you say my name.

no one told you where to go.

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired.

i need you to see me for what i have become.

we've no idea what we've got until we lose it.

it was no accident.

give me five whole minutes.

call me when you get the chance.

do you remember me?

do you still believe that nothing else matters?

the night belongs to you.

i must be someone new.

you will not be mine.

[channelsoph]

some post-ritual thoughts

Prague 15.11.2024

at the show in Prague I took plenty of videos and photos. but when I checked later, most of the photos turned out not usable. they are literally all so blurry and you cannot see the eepies at all, although when I took the pictures, the shot felt great, lucid and sharp. I don’t suppose it the problem of my phone’s camera, it is a good camera. maybe it was the lighting design, maybe my shaky hands. videos turned out not so bad.

this really prompted me to think about if I ever want to ditch the camera and just experience the show. at the end of the day, the moments I enjoyed the most were those when I bawled my eyes out to TNDNBTG, Atlantic and Missing Limbs, and TMBTE (yes, I do remember exactly which song made me cry. yes, I’m weird like that, sue me). my phone was not in my hands, which were very much occupied with wiping tears and snot from my face. please, if you see this, let me know your thoughts on this matter, on filming during concerts and how it affects you. I’m genuinely so interested and would like to converse. asks are always open and, if you would like, anonymous option is on but I value every instance of communication. let me know. I’m in my feels about it.

this set has a very different vibe. not as much moshpit activity, possibly due to removal of Vore form the setlist. they have a catwalk, Ves appears and disappears on it a couple times. he performs Missing Limbs on the catwalk, very close to the crowd, I could practically feel his presence in the space just by looking at him (it feels like I’m describing a religious experience. it was. it always is with their shows). it’s just him and his guitar and it’s very emotional. I could see his chest heave.

a much more intimate atmosphere, possibly, due to the choices made for the setlist. 

I could hear the espera clearer, and they did some choir work to make it more interesting. that is what I love most about a live show - the new arrangement of music, it sounds new and unpredictably, eye-openingly better each time.

ii’s podium is rising during his solo in The Summoning. very high, and I don’t know how the smol guy gets back down from it. he’s so smol.

during the breaks there were messages played, about death and life, mostly. in the usual Sleep Token fashion of wording, you know what I’m talking about. very immersive and also such a grounding peaceful moment? between sobbing you heart out and jumping and screaming at the top of your lungs, this was a welcome silence - an override of overstimulated senses. 

Ves thanked us by getting on his knees on the furthermost point of the catwalk. I’m always emotional when he thanks us in his own ways, bowing and kneeling. I stay extremely still and silent in those moments, because I am choking on my own swollen heart. I want to give him space. see, I’m crying again.

my heart always feels expansive after their shows.

oh, and the “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” tradition is going strong. I love it.

[daddyhausen]

• song lyrics prompts •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

shut your mouth before i fuck it — rats | motionless in white

i’ve been waiting for you — come undone | bad omens

addicted to a lonely kind of love — teardrops | bring me the horizon

somewhere in the past, something was between, you and i, my dear — the apparition | sleep token

i don’t know what hurts the most, holding on or letting go | 1x1 | bring me the horizon + nova twins

we said this was the last time, over and over again — synthetic love | motionless in white

you were more than just somebody i was destined to meet — granite | sleep token

i’m sorry i can’t see that you truely love me — bulls in the bronx | pierce the veil

you’re not the person i knew back then — mr. highway’s thinking about the end | a day to remember

i want you to show me what a bitch you can be — hatefuck | motionless in white

what if i can’t forget you? — caraphernelia | pierce the veil

even if it hurts me, even if i can’t sleep — chokehold | sleep token

you’ve got my body flesh and bone — the summoning | sleep token

my love, did i mistake you for a sign from god? — the summoning | sleep token

you have become the voice in my head — vore | sleep toke

won’t you come dance in the dark with me — acesntionism | sleep token

i cannot fix your wounds this time — are you really okay? — sleep token

for so long, i’ve waited — rain | sleep token

will you cleanse me with pleasure? — rain sleep token

missed calls, answer phones from people i just don’t trust — take me back to eden | sleep token

call me when you have the time, i just need to leave this part of me behind — euclid | sleep token

i miss the way you say my name — the death of piece of mind | bad omens

heaven knows i ain’t getting over you — just pretend | bad omens

stay with me, as we cross the empty skies — rosemary | deftones

take me one more time — sextape | deftones

it’s too bad you’re married to me — mascara | deftones

i’m hypnotised by your name — romantic dreams | deftones

but i’m tired of proving this love — mx | deftones

i wanna fuck you till you scream and cry — for your love | måneskin

i’ll make your body a habit — on my mind | måneskin

i want to taste you better — give | sleep token