#the guitar is an entirely different beast

[ladykailitha]

The Fallen

I blame @vecnuthy for this entirely. Seeing all their Sleep Token posts has completely intersected with Steddie and you get this.

***

Modern AU: Corroded Coffin makes it big. Like Metallica levels huge. Like every up and coming metal band is clamoring to open for them levels of fame. When this metal band, The Fallen comes on the scene and are dismissed as glam rock wannabes.

They are very theatrical. They are dressed in long coats with hoods and face masks. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer all have full Venetian masks of different colors. The bassist has one that looks like a starry night (but not Starry Night if you know what I mean). The Guitarist has a red devil’s mask, horns and all. The drummer is in a black death mask. The eyes of the mask are closed and it looks eerie as fuck. The most dramatic of the masks belong to the lead singer. He wears an opaque white lace mask with the mouth and chin cut out so he can sing.

Their outfits match their masks.

The lead singer, Abbadon, the fallen angel is in all in white with a splash of color on the lining of his coat. Sometimes it’s pink or baby blue, sometimes it one of the colors of bandmates, black or red or starry midnight blue. He wears high heeled boats and not always of the combat variety. Once he wore stilettos with a baby blue stripe up the side. It’s the outfit that gets made into dolls and merch the most. Most of the time he’s shirtless, but has been known to switch it up with lace or sheer tops.

The guitarist plays up the devil persona to a tee and calls himself Asmodeus, the demon of lust. Red leather and fetish gear. Thick red combat boots. His guitar is even blood red.

The bassist is called Astraeus, the titan of the night. While in certain light his clothes look black, but they are in fact a dark blue with bright stars, swirling galaxies, and glowing nebulae. His bass is of the night sky as well.

And finally the drummer, Azrael. Angel of death. Always in black. His drum kit is black with black metal fittings. Even his drumsticks are black.

Like I said, at first dismissed as wannabes but they are killing it. It’s clear that not only are they talented, their flare for the dramatic adds to their mystique. Soon they are the new rising stars of metal.

Dustin is their biggest fan. He loves them. Eddie is offended at the highest level. How dare this little butthead like The Fallen. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Dude, Corroded Coffin is still number one in my book,” he tells Eddie. “But you can’t deny that Abbadon is a beast on vocals.”

Eddie is forced to concede the point. Abbadon knows how to really get the through to the emotion of a song.

So when Dustin gets front row tickets to The Fallen’s concert in Indy, Eddie reluctantly joins the little twerp.

And the concert starts. First the drummer gets lowered into his seat on giant raven wings.

“Azrael!” the announcer calls out.

And the crowd goes wild.

The man slips out of the harness and wings ascend. Eddie cocks his head, yeah all right that’s kinda cool.

Azrael hits his drums and the bassist gets lowered on to the stage. All shimmering blues and purples, like actual stars, lands deftly on the stage and Azrael hits the high hat.

“Astraeus!”

The crowd is frantic now. Screaming and jumping up and down.

As soon as the wings are unstrapped and lifted away Astraeus riffs on his bass and the crowd eats it up.

Eddie likes this one. It’s unique.

Then Azrael starts up again as another man is lowered and it takes everything in Eddie’s power not to roll his eyes at this one. Red leather gear, horned mask, and fucking bat wings.

He stomps on the stage and really wails on his guitar. Eddie looks over to see that Dustin is absolutely eating it with the rest of them so he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Asmodeus!”

Dustin is vibrating so hard that Eddie’s fears he might literally crawl out of his skin with excitement.

And then the entire stadium goes silent. Like stock still. Eddie is looking around him confused.

He looks back at the stage and there descends the absolute most devastatingly handsome man Eddie has ever seen and he hasn’t seen his face.

His arms are out stretched and his head is bowed. Once he lands air cannons shoot out white feathers out at the crowd and the wings ascend without this man.

“Abbadon!” the announcer screams for the final time.

“Indy!” he shouts into his mouthpiece.

And the crowd screams could deafen the most resilient of metal goer.

Abbadon starts singing and the crowd is losing their god damn minds. And yeah, yeah. Eddie is one of them.

They’ve got a stage presence that can’t be manufactured.

And then about half way through the concert he sees it. Abbadon turns his head just right and holy fuck, Eddie is losing his mind for a different reason. He manages to take a picture with his phone before Abbadon turns.

After the concert Eddie grills Dustin about the band all the way home. But the only thing the kid knows is how awesome the band is.

He gets to the hotel and starts watching every interview with The Fallen ever. And he pulls up one from about a year or so back where Abbadon is talking about the masks.

Abbadon pulls out a black mask and holds it up to the light. “See? You can tell that the eyes have mesh covering over them. They work the way two way mirrors do. Azrael can see out of them just fine, but you can’t see in.”

There are a lot of impressed nods, Eddie is definitely one of them. That’s certainly a neat trick.

“So what’s the reason for the masks at all?” the interviewer asks.

Abbadon looks at the members of his band and they all nod. He licks his lips.

“Because if we had been ourselves when we started on the scene,” he said, “we would have be called posers and we wouldn’t have even gotten this far.”

Eddie paused the video and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

Just then Jeff wanders into the hotel room and looks at the TV.

“Is that The Fallen?”

Eddie hums. “Yup.”

Jeff grabs a drink from the mini-fridge and makes his way over. “Oh hey is that poser interview?”

Eddie hums again.

“He can’t really be serious about that,” Jeff says with a huff. “No one in the metal scene would call anyone posers, not if they truly loved the music.”

“We would have,” Eddie says with a finality that brings Jeff up short.

“The fuck we would have, man,” Jeff snaps. “There’s no way.”

“We would have it was Steve Harrington’s band.”

Jeff’s eyes go wide. “There is no way that’s Steve Harrington.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and zooms in on Abbadon’s neck. He hands his phone to Jeff.

“Okay so the dude has moles on his neck,” he says handing the phone back, “lots of people have them.”

Eddie goes through his phone and pulls up a picture of Steve. He’s not in the exact same pose but it’s close enough. He hands the phone to Jeff again.

Jeff squints and then zooms in.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie drapes his hand over his mouth and purses his lips.

“Steve Harrington in a metal band,” Jeff says in awe. “All be damned.”

“When The Fallen came on the scene,” Eddie says dropping his hand so his talk, “we were outselling Metallica in records and ticket sales. If the rest of the band are preps like Steve we would have mocked them relentlessly.”

Jeff sits down hard on the sofa next to Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands.

“We got to tell someone, man,” Jeff says. “This is huge!”

Eddie in his haste to look at Jeff accidentally hits the remote.

“Do you think you’ll ever do a reveal?” the interviewer asks.

Asmodeus leans over to speak in the microphone. “Ask us again in ten years if we’re still selling out crowds.”

Eddie fumbles it again, but manages to turn off the TV.

Jeff and he looks at each other.

“We can’t say shit, man,” Eddie hisses. “It would be like outing someone as gay or trans before they want to.”

Jeff slumps in his seat. “Fuck. Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

They’re silent for a moment.

Eddie cocks his head to the side. “What I don’t get is how the kids don’t know.”

Jeff opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head slowly. “Sorry but if I was Steve I wouldn’t tell them shit either.”

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Jeff says turning to face him, “they’re great kids. Brilliant D&D players, nerds, geeks, and dorks the lot of them. But I would not trust them with a secret that big.”

Eddie thought about all the time that they accidentally blurted out something that didn’t make sense out of context, but once you knew, holy shit was it a miracle these kids didn’t get into more trouble.

“Yeah okay.”

After a moment of silence Eddie looks over and frowns at Jeff. “What are you doing my hotel room anyway?”

Jeff holds up his beer. “Your beer was cold, I forgot to put mine in the fridge when we got in.”

“Asshole,” Eddie grouses, bumping Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff kisses his cheek. “You love me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

*

Steve is in his dressing room after their last concert of the tour for their second album scrubbing the hell out of his face because that mask is prone to giving him the worst breakouts, when he notices the blue roses.

He gets a lot of flowers but never blue roses. He rinses off his face and walks over to the them.

There’s a note and he thinks he recognizes the handwriting. It’s short and sweet and absolutely terrifying.

“I know your secret, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”

It’s not signed, but the ‘sweetheart’ gives it away.

He messages Robin.

“Get Eddie Munson in here right now!”

She protests that she doesn’t know where he is. But Steve knows he has to still be in the building and sure enough she finds Eddie waiting in the wings, looking smug as hell.

Her eyes go wide and cursing up a storm drags him into the dressing room.

She presses her back to the door.

“Who told?” she squeaks.

Eddie laughs. “No one, I swear.”

“Then how did you know?” Steve asks.

He hands Steve his phone with the picture he took at the concert. Robin wanders over to peak over Steve’s shoulder.

“So it’s a picture of his neck,” she murmurs.

But suddenly Steve gets it. “It’s my moles!”

Eddie nods, pressing his lips together so he doesn’t giggle.

“Shit!” Robin hisses. “Do you think anyone else figured it out?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’m just obsessive that way.”

“About moles?” Robin says with a frown.

“With Steve.”

Robin blinks. “Right I’m out of here.”

She closes the door behind her and they are left alone.

The night ends with Eddie in Steve’s bed asking him for The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on their next tour next year and there is no way Steve could say no to that. His bandmates would kill him.

They go on tour and the hardest part is dodging rumors that Eddie is two timing Steve with Abbadon because when The Fallen and Corroded Coffin perform together they make out on stage.

Then for The Fallen’s ten anniversary they do a reveal and Dustin is livid.

Robin and Steve had been telling him for years that they were just low level PAs and not a famous rockstar and his equally mysterious manager.

They’re forgiven when Steve tells him that half the songs on the first album are about him and the rest of the kids.

***

This is just a rough draft. I might expand on it in full later.

ETA: Story here.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child

[halloweenacara]

all my beasts! my main account is totally full now rip. names & info under the cut

aske - halloween acara, he/they - horror artist & author, kinda the main character. he writes a horror-comedy comic, but his most famous work is a series of intense horror novels published under a pseudonym. he's secretly a huge scaredy-cat & has become very fond of a certain zafara.

flora - mutant aisha, she/her - baker & activist. she runs a little bakery in the haunted woods that only employs other mutants. she's sweet as sugar, but you don't want to be on her bad side. not afraid of anything- in fact, she has a sweet spot for the scariest resident, alder.

fossil - tyrannian elephante, he/him - anthropologist, museum curator, technically undead. he was found in a glacier on the border between tyrannia and terror mountain & revived. now, he has a special interest in tyrannian history, spending more time in the field than behind a desk. he will talk your ear off.

kilroy - steampunk zafara, he/him - a knight from the golden era of meridell- sort of. he was brought to life via a wayward spell from mac, pulling him from the pages of a book of old meridellian tales. he's a little lost, but taking it in stride- besides, he has a cute lil acara to help him out.

pup - toy poogle, they/she - midi musician, streamer, sapient robot. they speak almost exclusively in internet memes and audio clips. she has a vast collection of expression stickers, one for every mood. recently, they've been visiting veknir's workshop every night…

mu - burlap kau, he/they - fiber artist, gardener, ex-scarecrow. he used to live in a farm north of the haunted woods, then took himself off his stick and ran away. he sewed his legs himself, as he didn't have any originally, and has to fix them often. makes a lot of crochet plushies and blankets- stark contrast to the manor's otherwise spooky vibe.

alder - shadow skeith, she/her - groundskeeper. an intense individual, to say the least. she's been with the manor longer than anyone can recall. she mostly keeps to herself- she lives in a small cabin on the edge of the courtyard. she spends her time meticulously cleaning the tombstones, or lurking in the yard in the midst of heavy rain. aske is terrified of her.

rory - chocolate/halloween bori, he/it - some variety of candy-based creature. he only joined the group recently- previously he was known as the thing that howls and roars just past the fence line. he smells like candy corn and hot cocoa- apart from the bones, of course. those smell like death.

maxie - ghost cybunny, she/her - tour guide/scam artist. she offers tours of the manor, even installing a little gift shop in the foyer. most of the 'haunted features' on the tour are fake. even if the others wanted her to leave (frankly, she's a rude, self-serving conwoman), she couldn't- she died in the manor. every time someone asks how she died she gives them a different story.

veknir - speckled grundo, he/him - alien, scientist, engineer. he keeps the manor running- repairing old appliances, fixing broken railing. of course, he did blow up the microwave trying to improve it. he crash-landed in the courtyard while fleeing someone and set up a workshop/lab in the basement. who knows what he gets up to down there? do we want to know?

cake - snot chomby, it/its - slime monster. one of veknir's experiments gone awry- well, it made a new creature, but cake's a rebel. it chose its name after coming to life and immediately raiding vek's lab minifridge. it has a massive sweet tooth- flora is its best friend- and takes its sick axe guitar everywhere (it can't play it)

remy - halloween xweetok, he/they/she - the owner of the october house. the oldest resident (besides kilroy, technically?) and also the hottest (according to remy). if he's not ominously swirling a glass of something red in the study, he's at some club doing drag.

diaveli - halloween ixi, she/they/it - some variety of horrid clown thing. her entire existence is dedicated to tormenting aske and causing problems.

chimaera - lab rat, they/them - they have chronic health issues, but visiting the lab ray and changing their body calms their aches. it also leaves them ravenously hungry and pays fairly well. they also "work" at maxie's gift shop. they sometimes play on pup's streams as a guest.

mac - mutant lenny, he/him - wizard. he spends all his time hidden away in his tower, practicing spells or mixing potions. his hermit-like tendencies are partly because he needs privacy for his evil machinations and party due to crippling social anxiety.

croaksby - candy quiggle, he/him - butler, janitor, etc. a long-suffering servant, croaksby has worked for remy for a long, long time. he does actually enjoy his work- if he gets frustrated with a resident, he can always add a touch of poison to their nightly tea/coffee/borovan- not enough to kill them, of course...

[trix-in-a-box]

Thinking about how almost every saga has something referencing Odysseus not just losing his humanity but him being more than mortal?

First Odysseus says he’s ‘just a man’ but ‘when does a man become a monster?” (Just A Man, Troy Saga)

Then he claims to be ‘neither man nor mythic’ (Remember Them, Cyclops Saga)

I don’t think anything specific is in the Ocean Saga?

I know he was lying to Circe about how he got the ✨Holy Moly✨ but he still claims “then i must be a god like you’ (Done For, Circe Saga)

He has an entire song about becoming a monster, and i know these are all his opponents, but he’s in a way comparing himself to godly figures like Poseidon and Circe (Monster, Underworld Saga)

Different beast is Odysseus being a monster, but you could interpret “We are the same you and I” in a few ways, mostly obviously being a monster and trying to survive, but you could take it as Ody being not quite human? (Different Beast + Scylla, Thunder Saga)

nothing specific in the wisdom saga either i don’t think

And then he has the background chorus that only gods can have, as well as the glowing eyes in the canon animatic, and he LITERALLY DEFEATS AND TORTURES A GOD also Poseidon calls him a monster and to do that to a god as a mortal is crazy(ik some say another god gave him a power up or he was just so pissed it was like a divine rage but for the purposes of this we’ll say he could just be more than mortal) (600 Strike, Vengeance Saga)

As well, Odysseus having the electric guitar at some times, and only gods/non-mortals having electrical elements in their music.

I could be wrong idk. It’s just interesting how he repeatedly calls himself more than mortal and is referenced to be as well.

Also I know the gods call him a mortal on a few occasions but maybe he’s mortal but just a step above? Not a demigod though. not enough to be divine really but not totally mortal either. Also he sort of proves the comments that involve him being called mortal wrong in a way.

[chosclub]

After Last Night, 𝟏

PAIRING — choso ° f!reader GENRE — one night stand au!smut WORD COUNT — 6.1k (side eye) WARNINGS — cunnilingus (f!reader receiving) º penetration º 18+ smut! CONSPECTUS — After spending too long mulling over a breakup, you decide to join your friends to the bar they frequent, hoping for a new beginning and the guitar-playing, angel-voiced singer looks like a good contender. PARTS º 𝟷 º 𝟸 (coming soon)

A/N: If you were thinking to yourself:

"Damn, I wish I had a soundtrack-like playlist to listen to as I read",

We might intergalactically connected

It’s right here

Listen in order (obviously)

☆

According to the multiverse theory, there are infinite amounts of you, they all diverge upon different branches made up of decisions and indecisions. But out of infinity, there exist two current versions of you that are living simultaneously at almost midnight. One is curled up in bed, luminated only by your lamp, blurry light like a warm blanket as you scroll on your phone, eyes brimming with exhaustion. The other is squished between dancing, drunk bodies, in a dress slowly riding up your thighs, sticky, sweaty and exhausted. If your fate lay in your hands like a magic orb, every decision only decided by you, the beholder, you’d pick the first reality; To be half-asleep, in bed, alone but in good company. However, it’s been months since you got dumped and–

“I just thought to myself, fuck it yanno? Life’s too short to care about some man!” You shout over the blaring music to Maki, who seems to be completely in her own world, eyes shut, face jungled by her hair as her head sways side to side.

“Yeah! Fuck men!” To your surprise she shouts back, reaching out her drink to clash against yours and chug in solidarity. A cacophony of voices from your friends join in, shouting the same. Can’t count how many of these moments have happened up to this point, some with complete strangers, most with the girls who dragged you out in the first place. The burning that initially rested in the back of your throat is no longer there, replaced by the insatiable desire for more – more drinks, more dancing, louder music, more excitement – fast forwarding through a movie and trying to fit in as much as possible. 

This rush of adrenaline has taken over you like a quenched beast, thirsty for more energy in any form it can latch on to, you decide to take a lesson from Maki’s book, closing your eyes, trying to absorb the music into your fingertips and arteries. Granted it’s been…a while since you’ve gotten to have a night like this, relationships sneakily take it out of you, it’s apparent your tolerance has depleted and the expectations for a Friday-night-out for everyone is your wannabe-alcohol-blackout-bender. 

The bar your friends frequent is a small one but always lively, the building feels like it’s going to spill over with the amount of people that fill up the dance floor, the bar, the patio. Moreover, Nobara offhandedly mentioned a hottie (her words) that plays with his band every weekend. 

There’s a newfound feeling, a thought that screams within you to disregard the fear of what could happen next — you have no one to answer to, no man in the corner telling you your dress is too short, no policing on what fun you could have. It’s an epiphany, only amplified by the alcohol that takes over your whole body, swaying your hips more deliberately, leaning comfortably into the air, lifting you and everyone else up until the entire dance floor floats. 

In an instant, the bubble is poked, atoms popped and disintegrated into the air; you have the ball and a football player just hungrily tackled you for it. Except you’re at a bar and a tall shadow of a being just bumped into your shoulder with a rushed force like you were the gate blocking his way through.

His hands hover over your shoulders as he floats through behind your back. “Shit! I'm so sorry!” He’s stopped to, presumably, only check if your brain is still intact inside your skull before he sets to rush through the rest of the crowd. The linger feels like an eternity to you, two paradoxes standing still among the dancing crowd that elevates around them. He’s almost made it to the stage when you come back down to Earth, leaving you standing still, without words. Another you would’ve cussed him out, grabbed him by the collar of his white shirt and brought him close to your nose to spill threats straight into his nostrils, this you only stares as he maneuvers from behind everyone, spilling an occasional excuse me you can only decipher from the movement of his lips.  

You watch as he props his foot onto the edge of the stage, a leap he climbs over with ease. He props his guitar over his shoulder, resting his hand on the strings. He stands over the crowd like a giant, the murky clouds drifting at his shoulders, he stares intently down at the people that seldom notice his band’s presence, sans one. The lights are dancing along his frame, pink purple blues illuminating his visage. His hair is split in two spiky buns, only a few strands that frame his face, his eyes dark with seriousness, a stripe the color of his eyes tattooed across his nose. 

The music drifts, dragging a series of groans, cheers, boos with it as he enters the indigo lights. 

He stands alone, adjusting his guitar and stepping closer to the mic. The lights dim a cool blue, leaving him as the center of attention, the focus. 

He steps on one of the pedals by his feet and begins to play a riff on his guitar. It’s a slow intro, already having captivated the audience, who have begun swaying to the entrancing melody.

He’s closed his eyes at this point, dipping his head down causing the loose strands to stand still on the tip of his nose and cheeks. His chest rises slowly in preparation, he leans closer to the mic, lips just grazing the metal grid of the mic head. He joins the melody and God, his voice is fucking angelic. He’s entered his own world now, paying no mind to the captivated crowd at his feet. His voice is raspy but strong, he’s singing as if the next verse is his last, the grate of his throat transforming the cringy 90s song he covers into an emotional ballad. You remember the melody, blasting from your older brother’s CD player, chorus bleeding from his room into yours until you banged a fist against the shared wall, signal for him to turn the volume down.

Your friends emerge from the rest of the crowd behind you to join the statue they left behind, watching, gazing at the dark-haired, angel-voiced performer. 

“No fucking way, is this Boyz II Men?” Nobara calls, propping her elbow on your shoulder like a pigeon landing on a limestone sculpture. 

“Yeah,” is the only word you can muster. 

She nods, “I’m into it.” The rest of you nod in unison like ogling robots, all at the command of the singer. Everything else sounded blurry, except for his voice. He’s reached the chorus, belting the notes, occasionally letting the audience peak at his irises, flooded in the iridescent indigo light. 

“I used to hate this song but–” A sentence left unfinished, floating with the air particles because whatever you say is no match for his melody and the way it has enchanted the crowd. 

The song concludes, the crowd enveloping him in cheers as his other band mates emerge from the crowd, picking up their respective instruments and talking amongst one another. Maybe it is the wow-factor of the band or maybe they are from outer space but you notice their uniquely styled hair; The bassist looks like a sea urchin, hairspray-locked spikes peeking out from his head of hair, the one with a mint-green detailed guitar next to him, pastel pink hair washed out by the dazzling white spotlight. The main act, the lead, listening to the two conclude a quick soundcheck, two buns lazily hanging on his head, the strands of hair slowly being picked up by the soft breeze of the ceiling fans and being dropped back on his forehead. 

The bassist begins striking a weighty, groovy riff and like a stack of dominoes, the background track and the guitarist follow lead. The pink haired boy inches his foot to his pedal board, tapping one slightly and his guitar begins to sound gritty; It’s a beat you can’t help but bop your head to. The lead singer’s voice has also taken a new approach from the ballad-singing, emotional sound before. This time, he’s closer to the mic, head dipping down so his irises glare forward and his voice swings in a way you’ve never heard before, left fingers carefully changing chords. His confidence and slight smirk drive a stake through your chest, heart pumping blood to get any other body part other than your head to move. His ability to soften his voice in falsetto for the pre-chorus leaves you captivated because holy shit he’s good. And holy shit are the three of them coordinated. 

The pink haired guitarist quickly taps a different pedal on his board, the bassist immediately playing a different riff, one heavier, more viscous. The slow riffs from the mint-green guitar send the crowd slowly swinging, bopping their heads. The singer adapts as well, grabbing the mic stand with one hand; You can’t tell if the wavelengths traveling from the bass guitar to you are affecting gravity itself, if the three of them smoothly transitioning to the slower part of the song, or if standing for so long has made you light-headed, but you’d bet the triple digits in your savings account that the raven haired, two spike buns singer glanced into your eyes. 

You exhale at the slight exchange, two stars orbiting a galaxy and only for a nanosecond meeting at a conjunction; When you blink, his eyes are closed as the other two band members begin singing the background vocals, leaving the lead to show off more of his falsetto.

—☆

The alcohol that was streaming through your veins has died down, only leaving behind heavy eyelids and a fuzzy view of everyone dancing. You and your friends linger around the bar, your elbow propped up on the wood, your only crutch to stay awake. The people have begun to fizzle out, the band playing earlier taking a break, the speakers booming with 2010s R&B. 

You wish you would’ve seen him approaching, like an entity identifiable by their silhouette, the shadow growing bigger and bigger behind you. 

“Hi,” he begins and before you can turn around to acknowledge the greeting, he continues, “I’m really sorry about bumping into you earlier.” 

It is then you turn your head from the rest of the conversation, catching a glimpse of the girls as they stare as if they’ve seen a being and are too scared to tell you that it’s about to devour you first. 

Now that he’s closer, he’s taller. 

“It’s fine,” you shrug, smiling, “I mean surely you could’ve navigated a crowded venue better but who’s to say?”

He has the same gaze from earlier, iridescent eyes unafraid to maintain eye-contact. He smiles and purses his lips to the side as a terrible cover up for his smirk. 

“Settle it with me and let me buy you a drink then.” 

You try to play it cool, but you’ve already used up all the shrugs and he’s already leaned his elbow against the bar, cocking his head to the side; He’s made himself comfortable because he already knows the answer. The other girls have already left, you see Nobara’s amber hair from your peripheral standing outside with Maki and Mai. 

All the confidence and allure you can convey to him, trying your hardest to mirror him – “Sure.” 

He turns to face the drinks, the only time you can look at him meticulously without him noticing. You stare at the tendons on his neck, his white shirt that hangs loosely on his form as he leans closer to the bar to get a bartender’s attention. Your gaze makes its way down, defined muscles outlining the shape of his arm, he rests his left on the bar and his right he holds by his face, a soft wave to catch the eye of the bartender who has his back turned to the both of you. You don’t dare look down further. He turns his head to you just in time before your eyes can make it past his waistline.

You blink at the bartender who stares expectantly back at you – An unsuspecting passer-by that watched you gawk at the spiked-bun singer. 

“A vodka cranberry, please,” 80% cranberry, you wish to add because you want to spare tomorrow-you the turmoil, she’s dealing with enough from the sleep-deprivation as it is. The bartender glances back at him, asking if he’s starting a tab or closing it off. He drives the inside of his cheek between his teeth before requesting to close it. 

Once the bartender has turned, tending to more drinks and drunken orders, the raven haired boy turns to you, leaning temple against his palm.

“I love your drink of choice –” He tips his head forward slightly, pausing for you to fill in the blank.

“____” 

“I love your drink of choice, ____”

“What did you get?” You pause as well, waiting for him to give a part of himself, an equal trade so that even if every memory from tonight diminishes tomorrow, each other’s names will remain. 

“Choso,” He reaches the arm he was balancing his temple on to shake your hand, you giggle at the sudden formality and he smiles expectantly, like he knew that’s the reaction the gesture would ensue, “A whiskey neat.” 

“Oh, simple, I like it.” 

The bartender comes back with the two drinks,  one a radiant rouge, the other a brooding umber. He leaves the checkbook for Choso to fill out and departs once again.

You take a sip of your drink, the bitter taste of vodka hitting your bottom lip; As if by telekinesis, the bartender had taken the ratio you thought of and flipped completely.

You exhale a biting breath. “Damn, that’s so strong.” 

“You don’t like it?” Choso looks at you as he takes a sip of his drink, lips tipping the edge of the glass back. You can’t help but stare, wishing you were the drink. He swallows a sip back without even wincing. 

“Not how I’d make it, I guess.”

He raises his brows, “You bartend?”

“Yeah, a few blocks down.” You nod, “I guess on my days off, I come to spend money here instead of getting the drinks for free at my own workplace.” 

He smiles, “Makes me feel fateful you chose tonight to blow your money on a 200% markup.”

You shrug, “of course, anytime.” 

— ☆

The cold fall air is nipping so late at night, you try your best not to stumble over the cobble, shamelessly hanging on to Choso’s arm as he tries not to stumble over you dragging his body down. It’s nearing 1 a.m. and the music booming from the bar suddenly turns off, drunken bodies shuffling out and trying to figure out where to venture to next.

“Who lives closer?” You suggest. You glance up, expectant, and although you reach his shoulder, it still feels like Choso towers over you. He turns his head slightly towards you, but the eyes are what lock in with yours, waterlines lifting as he smirks. 

“What’re you trying to whore me out? We just met!” He exclaims. Panic almost rushes to your chest before he quickly chuckles, “Fuck dude, I’m totally kidding, I’m sorry. My apartment’s nearby if you’re willing to walk a bit.” 

You exhale, nodding because he seized all your words from you. 

The night envelops you both in her dark embrace, mid-October wind pulling your coat back as you use your hand to cover any part of your face you can keep warm. You and Choso try not to stumble and you try not to turn and look at him as he walks, his eyes focused straight ahead, jaw lightly clenched trying to bear against the wind. His hair flowing behind him exposes part of his face you hadn’t seen yet, soft pale skin, he looks different, his tattoo more in view despite the color of it partly blending with the night sky. 

His apartment is a few blocks away from the bar, a duplex he says he shares with his bandmates, Yuji and Megumi. The road is quiet, streets lined with cars and the glowing of streetlights is the only warmth you two can seek out in the cold. From the outside, the duplex is brick-lined, bay-windows on the first floor that overlook the street; You can see a warm light radiating from a lamp left on inside. 

You reach the top of the steps, Choso unhooking his arm from your hold and fishing through his jacket. The keys jingle as he inserts one and opens the door, allowing you to enter first into the warmth. The living room is eccentric, a long lamp reaching over the couch, orbs that illuminate the room hanging from the metal. The couch is caramel colored leather, lined with pillows on each side, matching the side chair and the walnut wood of the table. A fireplace faces the couch and everywhere, everywhere, on the floor, on the bookshelves, propped against the coffee table, are vinyl records, they line the player, they cover the table.

“Wow,” You exhale a breath, face vibrating with warmth, “this is an insanely nice place.”

“I know, right? We’ve been renting it for a while, got extremely lucky.” Choso floats in behind, hanging his jacket on the coat hanger and heads for the kitchen. “You want anything?”

You turn to face him and the kitchen, a large bar counter lined with stools and next to it, a dining table. These guys really like lamps, you think to yourself, eyes glancing at a small lamp on the corner of the counter. “Water, please.”

Choso nods and you both turn in sync, him towards the cabinets and you to your left to look at the bar cart that’s placed in between the living room and the walkway to the kitchen. You gander at the alcohol, accessories, and the fancy, when-the-guests-are-here glasses. When Choso approaches from around the counter, he asks, “just water?” 

“My liver’s going to give out by tomorrow,” you cringe at the thought, tomorrow-you hungover, tired, and miserable. “But you do have all the ingredients for a mojito, and it is one of my favorite drinks.”

“Can I watch you make it?” You look at him and there it is again; his intense gaze, looking straight at you as if there was nothing else in the world that could keep you out of his sight. All you can do is nod. 

You grab the muddler, container of mint leaves, and rum; Choso reaches from behind you to grab the syrup and you both set the ingredients on the counter. He opens the fridge, grabbing ice and a container of cut strawberries. 

“Could these work?” He holds the container up.

You shrug, “haven’t tried that before.” 

You add the leaves to a tall glass as he grabs a cutting board and begins to cube the strawberries. You’re side by side working in sync but you can’t help but glance at the way his veins protrude from his forearm even when he’s relaxed, how muscular his arms look, the overhead lighting shading in the valleys of his forearm, making the muscle bulge in the light. Your chest tightens watching him glide the knife across the stem of a strawberry, angling the knife to cut the fruit into smaller pieces. Unlike him, you’ve been enjoying the secret glances you get at him rather than the blazing eye-contact. It’s a game you’re unsure he would participate in, an act you don’t want him to catch you in, a secret between you and yourself; In this moment the only person that gets to secretly admire the valleys of his muscles is you. 

Frankly, staring at Choso had already built up a demand of sexual frustration that you are taking out on the mint, extracting every last drop that you don’t notice when he slides the cutting board full of glistening, cubed strawberries towards you. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re torturing the mint, the creased leaves sticking to the glass. But you also hope he does.

He announces he’ll be back, departing from the counter and disappearing to the living room. You don’t want to turn back to follow him with your eyes, the desire bubbling inside you like a geyser. Instead, you can hear him shuffling, stop, then hear a record crackle as he lowers the needle. 

He’s back at your side, watching you intently split the batch of strawberries in two, adding them to their respective glasses, and smashing them as well. You can feel his quiet stare on your shoulder as the record begins to play. You almost laugh when the music floods the room; He’s queued slow songs, full of bass that have your body vibrating trying not to bop your head or move your body. The room is filled with honey, it radiates from the soft yellow lighting, it flows from the record player and sticks to every corner and has begun flooding to the ceiling until everything is tinted yellow. 

After adding ice, you reach for the double-sided jigger he pulled from one of the drawers, measuring the simple syrup on one side, pouring into the glass, and rum on the other side. 

“Oh, fuck, almost forgot,” he states, startling you in your state of thought about his body. He opens the fridge again, grabbing a lime and a half-consumed bottle of club soda. He slices the lime between his hands, handing one half to you to squeeze the juice out of. Your knuckles turn white at the intensity of the squeeze, all the frustration from his gaze, his confidence, his voice, traveling to your forearm. He hands you the other half for the second glass and then the chilled soda. After pouring, you give both the glasses a stir, sliding one towards him. 

He doesn’t waste time tipping the glass back and taking a sip. You have to divert your eyes to the dishwasher to not stare at the way his collar bones come into view and the way the tendons on his neck project. 

He exhales a quiet breath. “____, this is so fucking good,” he says, making your eyes switch back to him as the edge of your glass is steady on your lip, not quite ready to tip over. “I saw you pour in the rum but I can barely taste it.” Dangerous, he adds, grinning. God he’s almost making your eyelid twitch. 

You finally swallow back a sip. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You smile, amidst the warmth, the music, the soft lightening, his compliment striked out, making your cheeks warm; You have to look down out of even more embarrassment that he noticed a compliment so simple made you blush. 

Maybe the pent up nervousness has affected your depth perception because when you look back up, you swear he’s hovered closer. He holds the glass to his lips again, slowly indulging another gulp and staring directly into your retinas. His gaze is so fierce you can’t help but stare right back; His tattoo is in full view when he sets the glass back down, empty, the well of it rouge with strawberry nectar. The music that’s continued to play isn’t helping either, the way he has his arm extended on the counter, biceps stretched, isn’t helping at all. The record spins. The song that plays intros with a guitar solo which leads you back to him, thinking of his fingers strumming each individual string under the iridescent lights.

There’s a soft crackle as the record halts. It catches you off guard, eyes deflecting as you watch the needle automatically lift and levitate back to its place. 

From your peripheral, Choso hangs his head down before sliding his hand off the counter and turning to flip the record over. You chug back the rest of your drink quickly, head dipping forward again to admire his back and the way his white shirt hangs from his shoulders to his waist. You watch him take each side of the record in his palms and give it a flip. Then pick the needle between his fingers and hover it over the record. Then pause. Then turn. Then all of the sudden, he’s walking at a quicker pace, wider strides, back to you. You catch a last glimpse of his dark irises before he’s grabbed the side of your face and enveloped your lips in his. His lips are soft, cold from the ice, bitter from the alcohol, but tender nonetheless. His right hand travels underneath your coat to your hip, pulling your body forward by the flesh. He lightly sucks on your bottom lip before pulling away. Eyes blown out like supernovas, breathless, he says, 

“I had to kiss you,” the words spill from his lips in a rush like he was going to die if he didn’t get to taste your lips. 

You’re still both attached at the hip, a branch splitting in two, his breath reaching the tip of your nose, his eyes gazing into yours in expectancy. You lean forward once more and take his lips in yours again – If the universe were to collapse in on itself, what a way to go making out with Choso. This time, he kisses with fervor. His hand leaves your cheek to slide to the back of your neck and gently tangle his fingers in a handful of your hair. His tongue prods at your lips, pushing against the flesh to meet yours. The sensation of his tongue simultaneous with the way he drives your lip between his teeth has you letting out a whine into his mouth. At this, Choso’s nails dig into the flesh of your hip. 

Fuck, he softly groans, beginning to walk backwards and dragging you with him – you willingly follow like he’s holding you by the leash. You can’t let go of his lips the same way he can’t let go of his hands from your body; The feeling of him so close has sparked the fuse that’s slowly begun to inch closer and closer to the dynamite. The way he holds you steadily as you almost trip over his feet fills your chest with warmth, filling every crevice with color and making you lightheaded. You’ve wandered into a bedroom, his, unable to let go of each other and almost tumble in front of the bed. You slip your shoes off using your opposite ankle, detaching your lips from Choso’s to take a breath. He’s breathing loudly, his chest rising with every inhale, the hair on top of his head inflating and deflating when he exhales. 

“Kiss me again,” he breathes, waiting. And you do. He’s kissing you passionately, jaw wider, unafraid. His tongue slides on yours in passing as he slips his on the soft and slick side of your bottom lip. Your hands begin to stray over each other’s bodies and he pulls you close again. The tip of his hardening cock prods your groin shamelessly. He spins you both, your back now facing the bed; He lets his hands wander down from your neck to the zipper of your dress, dragging the fastener down the metal teeth agonizingly slow. Your dress loosens when the zipper reaches the end and he slides the fabric from your shoulders. You’re standing before him, almost naked, vulnerable. He’s staring and you have to look away, knowing the heat that flows through your temples isn’t because of the mojito. He backs you slowly onto the mattress, the lamp on the bedside table is a low light, the equivalent of a candle or the shade of moonlight when it’s a full moon, enough to keep the shadows of your bodies hidden but enough to appreciate what you can see and feel of Choso. With your distraction of the amount of lighting in the room, Choso has already lifted his shirt from his shoulders and hovers over you. His pale torso is wide, you can see the scales of his side abs, the shadows of his abdomen contrasted by the light. His right bicep is by your ear now and he leans down to meet your lips again. 

Your hands reach the stretch of his sweatpants, sliding your thumbs underneath the band and the rest of your fingers slide the pants down his thighs, he has to wiggle his leg to toss the fabric on the floor, making you laugh. He smiles. 

Choso brings his chest close to yours, reaching his hands underneath your back to unclasp your bra. It feels freeing when he takes the garment and tosses it to the side of you and begins to pepper kisses onto your neck. You’ve both fully committed now, there was no room for pointless mind reading; When he reaches your collarbone and sucks on the skin, you think you’d be stupid not to understand his feelings. He’s wandering down further, confident as he delves deeper into the anatomy of your body. He kisses the valley between your breasts, settling on a particular spot to leave a deep purple mark. He takes one of your tits in his mouth, licking the soft and sensitive skin around the nipple and suckling on the bud. The feeling leaves you whimpering, taking a handful of his hair and pushing him closer to your skin, trying to burrow him inside you forever. 

He doesn’t succumb to your pressure, traveling down the valley of your stomach to your underwear, he slides his palms up your thighs and slides the panties off. Without wasting any time, his mouth is on your core, licking whatever nectar has begun to seep out. A hot summer’s day and he divulges on an overripe apricot, sinking his tongue against the slit, sucking every drop of the juice out. You moan, the wonderful feeling is heat to your core, you can feel his cock harden against the flesh of your thigh. Yet, he keeps going, grabbing your leg to make sure it stays open for him. A part of you wonders if he’s even breathing, his mouth busy on the flesh of your cunt and his nose reaching your clit, you wonder if he’s too focused on your pleasure to breathe. His tongue peeks inside your walls, then retrieving to lick up your slit and repeating. You’re on the cusp of an orgasm, muscles clenching, when he takes his middle finger, sliding it in the soft flesh. His hands are cold, they cool you down like melting ice cubes when he touches you. The feeling of his tongue and finger is overwhelming but you don’t want it to cease. You feel an orgasm coming on, afraid if he adds another digit, you’ll combust like the death of a thousand stars. He looks up the hill of your body, watching the tendons on your neck stretch as you lean your head back against the covers, your stomach heaving up and down. Without a sense of control, he moans into you watching you relish every moment. He slips a second finger, a silence in the room between your soft whimpers all you can hear is a gush. He picks up his pace slightly, leaving you melting into the bed. Breathless and whimpering, your orgasm flows through you like thrashing waves kissing the shore. 

Every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes, you feel Choso plant soft kisses on your inner thighs. His lips are soft, relaxing you and bringing you back down to Earth. He floats back up to you, looking into your eyes, you can barely open them to look at him properly. He hovers over your lips, kissing them, softly sliding his tongue to yours, you can feel the moisture on his chin and practically taste yourself on his lips. 

You’re eager to continue, relish in his pleasure like he relished in yours. You don’t want the night to end, to conjunct at one point and diverge from each other forever. You’re trying to signal to Choso that you can continue, trying to kiss him harder, tougher. You reach your hand down to his briefs, the soft fabric slightly wet with pre-cum. He smiles into your teeth in response,

“You want to keep going?” He asks. You nod, licking his bottom lip. He begins to lift himself off of you, leaning over to his bedside to try and scavenge a box of condoms. 

You reach for his shoulder, “I got an implant,” smiling almost encouragingly. He laughs, it’s short but it sounds heavenly, a complete contrast from the brazen persona you’ve gotten to know tonight. He slides his briefs down his legs. He leans closer to the side of your head, driving your earlobe between his teeth. You take his divergence from your face to grab a hold of his cock and guide it to your entrance. 

The feeling of your orgasm is still remnant, overwhelming as Choso’s dick fills your walls but your desire to continue overrides any discomfort you have. He groans softly against the nape of your neck, dragging his hand to your hair and gently grasping a handful. You feel so good, he whines, his whimper a low and deep moan, sexy, leading you to close your eyes and drive your hips further against his. 

With each thrust, the movement between his push and yours makes a slush sound, sap spilling against him, it’s almost embarrassing, almost, because you swear it makes Choso’s cock even harder in you. 

Choso fucks you slow but hard. Venus observa. He feels so captured by your cunt, that he’s lost all other motor functions, his lips lazily and sloppily kiss and lick your neck, your face, your ear, he’s lost complete control, shamelessly groaning against your cheek. The sounds that come out of his throat only drive you closer and closer to your release. You whine and moan against his ear, his cock burrowed in you in perfect fit, your hands stray to his shoulders, then back, digging your nails in as he drives into you deeper. He reaches one of his hands down your stomach, pressing a finger against your clit and stimulating the area in rhythm with his thrusts. You clench your muscles against him in preparation for your orgasm, Fuck, he draws out the word, groaning at the feeling of your folds tightening against his dick. You orgasm almost simultaneously, you first, arching against him and yelping an ah! at the intensity. The air is popping like bright stars, you salivate at the feeling of spilling on his cock. Choso follows you, coming in you, adding to the complete mess he’s made. 

He stays on top of you, his skin warm against yours, until you feel him inhale and slide off your stomach. You open your eyes, retinas embracing the warm light; when you turn to face Choso, his eyes are closed, the light pours on him like golden nectar. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not asleep,” he smiles, breathing slowly and softly. You think for a moment, eyes drifting to his torso, tattoos etched at his ribcage and abs. 

“When’s the last time you had sex before this?”

He scrunches his nose, trying hard not to laugh. “Actually, I am asleep.” 

You chuckle breathlessly, “I’m only wondering, I promise. It’s been six months for me.”

“Ooh, close enough. Almost a year.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, trying to remain inconspicuous to the surprise. No offense to Choso, on the contrary, you think someone so attractive would have a line out the door. 

He opens his eyes, indigo retinas flooding with light and you can tell by the slow blinks, the way his eyes are almost squinting that he’s tired. “Have you ever been to the small restaurant on Second street, a couple blocks down? They have a great breakfast.” 

“I don’t think so, no.”

“We should go.” He pauses, awaiting a reaction, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you smile, Choso’s fatigue drifting to you. 

He leans and hovers over you, clicking the lamp switch off and dragging his blankets over the two of you. Even with the light turned off, you can see the silhouette of his body, covered by the blankets, scooting closer to your warmth. You’re staring at the moon reflecting out the window, hearing Choso’s breathing slow, too tired to think a single thought. 

[anxiousalene]

My Thoughts On the Vengence Saga 🔱🩸

HOLY SHIT ODYSSEUS MY GOD, BRO DID NOT HOLD BACK. The saga started with I'm not sorry for loving and it was sad on Calpyso's part (WANGUI COOKED SHE ABSOLUTELY COOKED) but I'm really glad Jorge didn't have Odysseus accept her "apology" because what she did even though she tries to justify it, it was 100% wrong AND THEN HERMES SHOWED UP AND WE GET REFERENCES TO THE TROY SAGA, OCEAN SAGA AND CIRCE SAGA. AND I LOVE THE "IF YOU DANCE WITH FATE THEN I KNOW YOU'LL ENHANCE YOUR STATE" LINE. I LOVE HOW MANY THINGS GET PERSONIFIED IN JORGE'S MUSIC LIKE PRIDE AND DANGER FEEL AS IF THEY'VE ACTUALLY COME TO LIFE. ALSO, THE FACT THAT JORGE'S SISTER VOICES THE PRINCESS WINION IS SO FUNNY TO ME, LIKE WE HAVE THE WHOLE FAMILY NOW. BUT DANGEROUS IS A BANGER LIKE I KNEW IT WOULD, ALL HERMES SONGS MAKE ME WANT TO DANCE. THE WINDBAG MAKES A SECOND APPEARANCE SO WE ALREADY KNOW THAT IS GONNA HAVE SOME SIGNIFICANCE. ALSO, ODYSSEUS IS GONNA USE RUTHLESSNESS FOR SURE. I ALSO LIKE THE "DON'T THANK ME FRIEND, I'M NOT THE ONE WHO FOUGHT FOR YOU" and Odysseus is like who then?? I was kinda hoping that Athena would show back up and it would be this whole big moment but she didn't :( RIP. Charybdis is REALLY COOL it was different from what I expected and I'm pretty sure it's Jorge's only entirely solo song In the show which is really cool. I also LOVE that right before Odysseus explains he doesn't have to fight Charybidis we get an electric guitar rift to show that he's using his intelligence. AT THE END HE SEES ITHACA AND HE'S ALMOST HOME AFTER ALL THESE YEARS AND THE MUSIC IS SO SOFT COMPARED TO EARLIER IN THE SONG. But... POSEIDON SHOWS UP. IM ANNOYED FROM A SHOW PERSPECTIVE BECAUSE JUST LET THE POOR MAN GET HOME BUT STEVEN IS ALSO SO TALENTED. HE WENT BEAST MODE FOR GET IN THE WATER. I like how intentional Poseidon's threat of "I'll take your son and gouge his eyes" to give an eye-for-an-eye deal to harm Telemachus as Odysseus did to Polyphemus. I also love Odysseus really does use all his tricks because he tries to show Poseidon to forgive and almost "Greet the world with open arms" but when Poseidon ignores him, he goes F* it. Then Poseidon uses his final boss move "OCEAN SHATTER" and Odysseus gets weighed down in the water by everyone who has died because of him in someway. But what I find heartbreaking is instead of singing their own motifs or "final thoughts" they all sing Waiting and his name until something clicks in his mind. ODYSSEUS GRABS THE WIND BAG AND OPENS IT WITH GLOWING RED EYES DESPITE KNOWING THAT IT WILL BLOCK HIS ONLY WAY HOME. HE USES IT AS A JETPACK AND STRIKES POSEIDON WITH HIS BOSS MOVE "600 HUNDRED MAN STRIKE" JORGE DID SUCH A GOOD VOCALLY TO SHOW HOW ANGRY AND SURE OF HIMSELF ODYSSEUS IS. ALSO WHEN HE'S ATTACKING IT SOUNDS LIKE LEGENDARY AND I THINK IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE HE'S CLOSE TO HOME SO HE'S MORE SIMILAR TO HIS SON. ALSO, THE VOICES OF THE CREW IN THE BACKGROUND IS JUST AHHHH. ALSO, I LOVE THAT WE CAN HEAR THE WND BAG MUSIC AND THE STORM MUSIC AS THE BATTLE IS GOING ON. Then Poseidon proceeds to taunt Odysseus by the fact he released the storm because now Poseidon can kill him and there's no way for him to get home. ODYSSEUS GOES APESHIT, or rather VERY CALM. We hear the danger motif as Odysseus walks toward Poseidon and Posiedon says "You can't kill me" and Odysseus says "Exactly" HE PICKS UP POSEDON'S TRIDENT AND STABS HIM OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER TO THE POINT WHERE POSEIDON IS BEGGING HIM TO STOP. but Odysseus has a Ruthlessness is mercy mentality and doesn't stop even as Poseidon, god of the seas, is calling him a MONSTER. AND THE CRAZIEST PART IS Poseidon relents the storm and asks "How will you sleep night?" and Odysseus goes "Next to my wife" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LIKE LINE IS SO ACTUALLY INSANE LIKE THIS SAGA WAS AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER AND ODYSSEUS HAS TRULY STOPPED CARING ALSO, EVERYONE'S VOCALS WERE OFF THE CHARTS AND IM GOING TO BE OBSESSING ABOUT THIS FOR THE COMING WEEKS. As usual, thank you to the entire Epic Crew and everyone behind the scenes for making these sagas, they are awesome.

[evil-youth-messrs]

In honor of Vengeance Saga cover reveal, welcome back to Moments in Epic That Make Me Go Insane ™️. In today's episode, we have The Thunder Saga and The Wisdom Saga. (I decided to split Act II in half, so the last part will be up after all sagas are released!)

Previous parts include: Troy, Cyclops, Ocean | Circe | Underworld. Without further ado, let's goo 👉

The Thunder Saga⚡️

~ee ee aaa ee ee aa aa pe-ne-lo-peee pe-ne-lo-pee~

oh, I would, but IIII've been suffering, trying to float the whole time-I would take the suffering from youuu

but only if you answer a question or two... of course!

okay, soo let'ssayIwasontherun or hiding from.... I dunno 🙄 POSEIDON! 😜

he will chase you high and low so find a place he'd never go, the one way you'll get home is sailing where he's scared to roam oh, it's through the lair of Scylla *DUN* (also the way this mimics the "He will burn your house and throne..." from The Horse and The Infant)

now jump in the water! Penelope whyy? you know I'm too shyyy 🥺👉👈🎀

aah, the things I'd do for you *shoots her*

*the electronic sounds at the beginning of Different Beast*

I know underwater there are packs of you hiding

you didn't notice that your friends got snatched! WHAT 😦

we are the ones who con-quer

while on the run from Poseidon we found a ship with no crew, I realized nearby there were sirens!

spare us, oooh, spare us, pleeaase 🙏

CUT OFF THEIR TAILS! we're ending this now, throw their bodies back in the water, let them drown NOOOO

KILL EM ALLL

*pum pum pum pum* The Lair of Scyllaaa 🤲

you hide a reason for shaaame~

leaving them feeling betraayyed~

Eurylochus, light up six torches 💀

ROW FOR YOUR LIVES! DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARSSSS *the entire verse that Scylla sings* DIE IN THE BLOOD WHERE YOU BATHE

*the instrumentals in this saga are all so good omg*

look me in the eyes and tell me, Captain, that you did not just sacrifice six men 😥

then you have forced my hand *epic guitar riff*

EURYLOCHUS! EURYLOCHUS! EURYLOCHUS! ODYSSEUS! ODYSSEUS! ODYSSEUS!

*the luck runs out reprise basically omg*

aaaaah aaah 👼🙏

this statue, the god of the sun~

please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do 🥺

Ody

I'm just a maaan EURYLOCHUS NOOOO

you've doomed us😦

these cows were immortal, they were the sun god's friends and now that we pissed him off who do you think he'll send?!

fullspeedahead FASTER fullspeedahe-*THUNDER*

*the entire Thunder Bringer, but especially:*

*the intro electronic brass melody*

PRIDE IS A DAMSEL IN DISTRESSSSS

in the end it's all the same once I apply all the pre-ssure

THUNDERRR⚡️ BRING HERR THROUGH THE WRINGERRRR SHOW HER I'M THE JUDGEMENT CALL THE ONE ☝️ WHO MAKES HER KINGDOM FALL

✨️enlighten me✨️, king of Ithaca

and suffer a gruesome fateOF THE THUNDERR BRINGERR...

SUBLIIIME YOU FOR YOUR ACT OF CRIMEE

CHOOSE choose? 🥺

please don't make me do this - when? does a comet become a meteor? - I can take the suffering from youu

captain? I have to see her 🥺 but we'll die 🥺 I know 😔

*can you tell this is my favourite saga*

The Wisdom Saga ⏳️

it's just me, myself and I 😊 stuck in my bedroom 😖

cause I'm stuck with your storiess~

if so, then give me sirens and a cyclops! give me giants and a hydra! I know life and fate are SCAry but I wanna be LEgenDAry

the minotaaauuur even cerberus

L-L-L-L-LEGENDARY

where is he??? where is the man who'll have you to wife???? ooOoOh???

give me a chance, a single opportunity and I'll overcome these obstacles and scrutiny and-BOY

WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT CHAMP

you'll have run of of b~o~nes to break

*tick tick* need some help? 😏

uppercut him, NOW woah HOW DID I DO THAT?? 😲😲

I just made your *thoughts* *quick* (get it)

I've seen plenty enough! to truly understand this kind of field

take advantage now and stRRRRike, little wolf, STRIKE

Athena 🥺

I've never felt strong before, you're my friend, I couldn't ask for more 🫂

I don't think he'll miiiiind

you're a good kid 🥹

keep your friends close and your enemies closer RUTHLESSNESS IS MERCY UPON OURSELVES one wrong move and you're done for anything I SONG OF PAST ROMANCE I SEE THE we won't take more suffering from you DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARS (yes this was necessary)

🪘🏝🪘🏝🪘🏝

tell me though, who's Penelope? ☺️ she's my wife 💀 ..........anyways!

from here on out you're mine, all mine-HELL NAH

last I checked, godesses can't die hihihi

bow down now to the immortal ~Calypso~

my island stays unkNOwnNO I don't belong here, there's something wrong here

*the bg music especially when he sings "I won't be drawn to love in paradise"*

it will be fine dear, come back inside dear

oooooooooh oooooooh ATHENA 😭

father, god king, rarely do I ask for favors, now I'm knocking~ on your door

divine intervention, is that what you seek? 😝😤

great - very well - eh - alright - groovy - bring it

Apollo! you all know I'm a fan of catchy songs 🕺🕺

why should I give him my support? he sacrificed his own cohort (rip uncle hort 😔)

Aphrodite~ your little high and mighty~ Odysseus

really Athena? these old tricks?

Areeees, Areeeees

what kind of sick coward! holds back his power while his friends get devoured? he didn't even fight Scylla, DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO KILL HER (his theme mathing Athena's, omg it's details like this that make this musical a masterpiece)

hey baby 💃🕺🪩

he's got the mind of a genius try harder he's pretty skilled with words you can do better than that hE's kINdA fUnNy? 🥴 ehhh never once has he cheated on his wife 💀 ...release him

no one beats me, no one wins my game! THUNDERRR BRING HERR THROUGH THE WRINGERRRR

As always, thank you for reading (this was really long, give yourself a pat on the back if you made it this far!)

We'll be back one more time! 💛

[agentcalypso]

⚡️my (mostly) coherent thoughts on the thunder saga, as promised⚡️

spoilers, obviously

⚡️SUFFERING⚡️

PENELOPEEEEEEE

the piano (athena's instrument) already telling us he has a plan before he even speaks

daughter? 🤨

the vocalllsssssssss

ohhh so that's how he learns abt scylla

ok this drags on a tiny bit near the end

having the first song of the saga called suffering when, in retrospect, this entire saga is odysseus suffering is just *chef's kiss*

not much to say abt this one but i love it

9/10

⚡️DIFFERENT BEAST⚡️

damn 0 to 100

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE SIRENS SHOWING UP HELL YEA

ok but the (i think) electric brass implying odysseus is becoming more ruthless (and powerful) like the gods?

the way it descends on "while you were so focused on turning my men into snacks" augh

the "you didn't notice that your friends got snatched" almost sounds kinda playful like the "my name is nobody" bit from polyphemus but then it just DESCENDS into ruthlessness i love it

"i would take the suffering from you" vs "we won't take more suffering from you"

"i made a mistake like [sparing the sirens] it almost cost my life" AUGH

LET THEM DROWN?????

the woahs from remember them/my goodbye are back

i can't hear any guitar (acoustic or electric) in this entire song and i'm afraid of what that implies abt odysseus' mental state, morals, and sense of self

i kinda like this more than the original scene in the odyssey ngl

all in all a fuckin bop

9.5/10

⚡️SCYLLA⚡️

EURYLOCHUS OPENED THE BAG?!?!??!?!?!

i don't think bringing back the "forgive me" is gonna get him to forgive you buddy

also the "forgive me" is in a triplet - odysseus already knew he's become a liability

building on the previous point obviously odysseus knew he'd have to sacrifice six men DO YOU THINK HE DECIDED TO HAVE EURYLOCHUS LIGHT THE TORCHES AT THE LAST SECOND WHEN HE HEARD ABOUT THE WIND BAG SO EURYLOCHUS WOULD BE ONE OF THE SIX TO GET HIM OUT OF THE WAY????

the way that scylla haunts the scene before she actually appears implying that she's stalking/circling? augh

the violin is going CRAZY i love it

scylla's voice is SO POWERFUL

love this all tbh

10/10

⚡️MUTINY⚡️

to preface this during the livestream i was yelling into a pillow by the end of this song so i wouldn't wake up my family so there's that

i feel bad for eurylochus dude is just trying to keep everyone alive and odysseus is telling him nothing lately

the growl in "I CAN'T" omg

also during the livestream the animatic for this song fucking SLAPPED

OH SHIT HE GOT STABBED

perimedes <3

"you relied on wit and then we died on it" A U G H

the danger motif is lingering

also this part reuses the melody from zeus' appearance in horse and the infant WE KNOW HE'S COMING BEFORE WE KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING

LUCK RUNS OUT??? AND THEIR POSITIONS ARE SWITCHED???

ODY

the fact odysseus still tries to save them :(

tbh i feel like poseidon and zeus' entrances in the song before theirs terrify you in opposite ways: poseidon you don't know who it is (partially since he didn't show up here in the original myth) since you have no context he just appears. zeus you just hear the thunder and you still know EXACTLY who it is

anyways this is an emotional rollercoaster

12/10

⚡️THUNDER BRINGER⚡️

the first half of this song was just me kicking my feet and giggling over luke's voice ngl

OH FUCK THAT "THE LIVES OF YOUR MEN AND CREW OR YOUR OWN" WASN'T A HYPOTHETICAL

JUST A MAN HHHHHHHHHHHH

BUT THEN ALSO PENELOPE

"captain?" "i have to see her" "but we'll die" "i know" IM SJSBFHSHFBSHFB THE EMOTION IN THEIR VOICES

I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY EURYLOCHUS IS PISSED BUT AT THE SAME TIME WHAT DID HE THINK WOULD HAPPEN

BUT ALSO AT THE SAME TIME I AM SOBBING OVER BOTH OF THESE BETRAYALS

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️/10

in conclusion

[tea-mew96]

hi meow :^) can i geeeeet optimus priiimal

Why, yes you can!

Send me a character and I'll tell you my...

First impression

This guy seems neat. Not sure how I feel about this whole furry alt mode thing, but I'm curious to see what else this character has in store.

Impression now

My beloved ape dad, munky queen, and comfort character.

Get past the "lol munky" jokes and you will find what is IMO one of the best designed characters in Optimus Primal. His iterations do differ (mainly in terms of the sass level he possesses), but the one constant is that he is a perfect ambassador of his beast mode: gentle, caring, and protective of his team and friends-sometimes to a fault-yet powerful and not afraid to smack a bitch if need be. Favorite Transformers character of all time, if you don't like him we can't be friends /hj

Favorite moment

You could put all scenes of Primal in the Beast Wars episode "Gorilla Warfare" here, but I'm specifically gonna pick the scene where Primal is going on a rampage through the Darksyde. Berserk Primal always lives rent-free in my head.

Idea for a story

I've given quite a bit of thought to an origin story for Optimus Primal, specifically for the original show. Decades later and we've never gotten canon info about his life before Megatron stole the Golden Disk, which baffles me.

To keep the story short, I imagine Optimus Primal's origin story being complimentary but opposing of Megatron's. While Megatron took the name for himself out of a power-hungry ego to be better than the Megatron of legend, Optimus Primal received his name upon activation due to his similar appearance to his namesake. However, he has a rough upbringing due to the pressure to be "perfect" like his namesake, despite not wanting anything to do with being a political leader or spiritual successor to Optimus Prime (hence pursuing a career in space exploration instead once he was older).

Unpopular opinion

I personally like Optimus Primal in Beast Machines for the most part, primarily from a psychological perspective.

Yes, he is snappy to his team, he's not as cheery or light-hearted as he was, but that's entirely because of the extreme negative situation he's faced with.

I always remember what Primal said to his fellow Maximals in episode 3: "Megatron decimated this planet because of me, you think I can bear losing any of you?!"

I bring this up because this is what signaled to me that Primal is not mentally doing well. Primal is blaming himself for Megatron's escape and his subsequent unleashing of the virus, blaming himself for the millions of sparks and future of Cybertron now on the line due to Megatron's actions, blaming himself for putting his teammates right back at square one but now with limited resources and numbers. Primal is putting a lot of unhealthy pressure on himself and it shows.

I just think it sucks that a lot of people don't seem to talk about this when it comes to his characterization. Most of what I see usually starts and ends with how preachy he is when that's only scratching the surface of his character IMO.

Favorite relationship

I will always stand by Primal, DInobot, and Megatron polycule, though only in an AU/what if scenario.

If referring to canon material though, I like Primal and Dinobot's relationship because of how sweet their friendship ends up being. Primal believes in Dinobot more than Dinobot seems to believe in himself, and Primal still supports him even during his worst moments.

Meanwhile, I find Primal and Megatron's dynamic fascinating to study, primarily because of how strongly linked their fates are with one another. They don't get along at all, yet their opposing characterizations and mannerisms ironically compliment each other well.

Favorite headcanon

He doesn't get many chances to do so, but Primal is a talented singer that knows how to play the guitar and piano (or whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of those instruments are.) I like to believe he's sung lullabies to Cheetor when the young bot can't sleep. Yes, this headcanon is based off Garry Chalk.

[shefanispeculator]

Blake Shelton revealed plans for his long-awaited Las Vegas residency on Thursday, but he’s still holding his cards pretty close to his famous vest.

“At the moment, all I know is that I’m doing it,” Shelton told American Songwriters

“It’s been five or six years now that that’s kind of been a possibility, and I just kind of kept kicking the can down the road,” Shelton said. “It became obvious that it was going to happen at some, but I wanted to wait until Ole Red was completed and it was up and running and all the kinks worked out before I did the Vegas residency. Because I want to be able to play both of them honestly while I’m there.”

“The Voice” alum readily admits he’s uber-competitive. When he saw everyone from Shania Twain and Carrie Underwood to Garth Brooks, Luke Bryan and Keith Urban slapping down extended Vegas runs, he didn’t want to be left out.

“It seems to be the new watermark for, ‘Have you made it?’ whether you’ve had a Vegas residency or not,” Shelton said. “So, I definitely need to check this one off the board because it seems like anybody who is anybody is doing a Vegas residency. It’s just a cool thing to do now.”

When the February slot opened at The Colosseum at Caesars Palace, Shelton snapped it up. He said six shows is a short residency but that it’s the first time-possibly in his career-that he’s played six back-to-back shows in the same venue. The closest experience for him was going to work on “The Voice” every day, and that was a different beast entirely.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he exclaimed. “I haven’t really thought about what the show’s going to be or anything, to be honest with you. I mean, we literally just completed the agreement or whatever in the last few weeks. Now it’s time to start thinking about what it’s going to be.”

Blake Shelton Jokes He Won’t Hang From the Rafters

He said six shows is a short residency but that it’s the first time possibly in his career that he’s played six back-to-back shows in the same venue. Shelton went to 12 or 13 of his wife Gwen Stefani’s residency dates, so he knows how residency shows differ from typical concerts on tour. Carrie Underwood does aerial work during her residency. Bryan constructed a huge bridge over the audience. And Brooks leans heavily into the songs and his connection with the audience. Shelton quips that his show will be more like Brooks’ than Underwood’s because his physique is built more for holding guitars than swinging from scarves. “I don’t know what the weight limit is on the rafters over there, so I better not be hanging from anything,” he laughed. I kind of have an idea of how it’s different, what people expect, and what I want to do as far as something different than what I do on a regular tour. This will be way different for me, but I’m excited about it.”

[starblazes]

𝐓𝐄𝐍  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 .

01. stelle tells dad jokes. ( ok, first of all, don't be so loud. )

02. stelle doesn't own a single pair of matching socks. ( not true. she has at least one pair that matches! )

03. stelle is unemployed. ( i suppose it depends on your definition of unemployed. technically, the nameless don't get paid for what they do, but stelle makes a not insignificant sum being everyone's fucking errand girl. )

04. stelle's least favourite subject in school was gym. ( if she had gone to school — or had a 'childhood' at all — this bitch would have loved gym. she'd have been a BEAST at dodgeball, come on. she would hit every one of her classmates in the face. )

05. stelle has an intense fear of doctors. ( untrue! natasha is incredibly kind and nurturing, if a bit horrified at the shit stelle gets up to, while bailu is much like a little sister. )

06. stelle is oblivious to any and all romantic interest someone may show them. ( true, in the sense that romance isn't even remotely on her radar most of the time — from lack of experience and being in constant 'fight' mode. someone would have to be pretty forward and deliberate with their intentions for her to realise it isn't some twisted way to manipulate her. sexual advances are a different story. )

07. stelle is very willing to eat inedible things. ( yes. )

08. stelle can play the guitar. ( she cannot. though i think she'd really enjoy taking lessons from serval if she had the time to really pursue it. )

09. stelle uses the word 'fuck' like a comma. ( untrue, surprisingly. stelle doesn't often curse. and if she does, it's usually to say 'damn' or 'shit'. 'fuck' is reserved for when someone's royally pissed her off, usually right before said person takes a bat to the face. )

10. stelle uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. ( at the beginning of her journey, absolutely. march was horrified when she found out and demanded to curate an entire beauty regimen for stelle thereafter. stelle doesn't usually do the full routine because she's not very high maintenance about her appearance, but she does switch to using a lightly scented shampoo and conditioner. nothing incredibly perfumed or floral. )

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Vague Plot

Vague Plot is made up of New York City avant-indie regulars, veterans of other bands, who got together to make driving, moving, long-form instrumental music a la Can and Popul Vuh during the pandemic: Zachary Cale, Uriah Theriault, Phil Jacob, Ben and John Studer. Of their debut Crying in 9 from earlier this year, Jennifer Kelly wrote, “Vague Plot’s jams shimmer like highways melting in the heat, running straight on through Kansas or Nebraska until they disappear in the undecipherable distance. Which is to say, they go on for a while, repeating the same short grooves ad infinitum, with modest changes, until the measures blow by like mile markers and the journey transcends itself.” All five members contributed picks to this wide-ranging listed.

Phil Jacob (sax/keys)

King Tubby meets Lee Perry — Megawatt Dub, 1997

In my late teens I started getting into dub, particularly King Tubby and Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. It’s tough picking one album, but this is the compilation I keep coming back to over the years. My favorite Tubby track, “Termination Dub,” isn’t here, but the giddy feeling I get from “Come By Yah” and “Perfidia” has no equal. And these are some of my favorite Lee Perry selections as well, particularly “Rainy Night” and “Open the Gate”. There’s an attention to melody here that often gets lost on dub remixes, even while these two are digging deep and pulling everything apart. Every delay drop seems to happen exactly when I want it to, leaping out of the speakers. A lot of the genre classics make me feel locked to the couch in a smoky haze, but this collection pulls me into a dance of dub ecstasy.

Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band — Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller), 1978

Possibly the best music education I ever received was playing in a Beefheart tribute band. The emphasis on polyrhythms as arranged by Don Van Vliet and John French on Trout Mask Replica made me feel music in an entirely new way; that it’s best if things don’t always line up at the beginning or end of a bar, a tension I enjoy searching for. TMR does it so often and with such ferocity that it grows exhausting over the length of the 79-minute album. On the other hand, Shiny Beast manages to incorporate some of those ideas into layers and layers of infectious hooks. From the driving bass line of “Floppy Boot Stomp” to the loping funk of “Tropical Hot Dog” to the stately guitar lines of “Owed T’Alex” to the existential spoken-word closer “Apes-Ma”, every track perfectly highlights a different aspect of what makes Beefheart so unique to my ears.

John Studer (drums)

Slint — Untitled EP, 1994

When I first heard the song “Glenn,” it changed the physicality of my body. Britt Walford has an impressive skill to subtly shift around beats so they gently roll and slide over themselves. It’s as if he’s repeating the same line of poetry but with different punctuation to give it fresh meaning each time.

DJ Shadow — Endtroducing, 1996

The surprisingly refreshing choices around arrangements and samples on this album highlight their unexpected connections. Repetitive, hypnotic rhythms combine with soothing layers of instrumentation and allow every special moment to shine appropriately. Endtroducing then delicately transcends these distant connections to create an entirely new space.

Zachary Cale (guitar)

Sonic Youth — SYR 1: Anagrama, 1997

The music on SYR 1 consists of four instrumentals. The first song “Anagrama” has a beautiful winding arc to it. Over the span of nine minutes, you can hear the band searching and expanding. When I first heard it in 1997, it broadened my sense of not only what guitars could do but also the importance of listening when playing within a group. There's structure but it's extremely loose, there's playfulness but not without restraint. That's a big part of what Vague Plot is about. One thing about Sonic Youth I've always appreciated is that even though they “jam,” they never get trapped into a traditional blues or one-chord vamp freak out. It's modal. Sometimes that can lead to dissonance, but that dissonance has always rubbed against something highly melodic.

CAN — Ege Bamyasi, 1972

I once had a summer job painting dorm rooms at the college I went to. One day I found a discarded CD with no jewel case or artwork. It was Ege Bamyasi. I took it home and put it on not knowing anything about the band. I was completely taken off guard upon hearing it. I could not place it into any known quantity. The inscrutable lyrics, the infectious rhythms and the mystery and sonics of it all; it cracked my brain wide open. To me CAN’s mission was always to find the pulse, vibrate with it and then ultimately dance around it. Vague Plot uses some of that same framework in our music. A singular idea to keep extrapolating on. Now that I know more about music history I can hear Fela Kuti, Stockhausen, disparate folk music as well as 1960s psychedelic rock all mixed up in this record. CAN has always seemed genreless to me in their fearless exploration of style. That’s something we as a band all aspire to. All gates open.

Ben “Baby” Copperhead (bass)

The Staple Singers & Curtis Mayfield — Let’s Do It Again, 1975

Let’s Do It Again is a soundtrack album composed by Curtis Mayfield and performed by The Staple Singers. A few years ago, I had the honor of performing a benefit concert for Little Kids Rock. I was playing guitar in the backing band and one of the singers was Hozier who wanted to do the title track “Let’s Do It Again”. Mavis Staples was also on the bill. It was an unforgettable evening. After the concert, I bought this record on vinyl and it’s been on heavy rotation ever since. The string arrangements are absolutely magical. The whole album is a beautifully recorded masterpiece with Curtis Mayfield and his stellar band backing up The Staple Singers. What more can you ask for?

Ornette Coleman — Change of the Century, 1960

Change of the Century was the first Ornette Coleman album I bought when I was in college. I was interested in the world of “free jazz” and Ornette and his band were the pioneers. Surprisingly, all of it is incredibly melodic with bebop-style phrasing, which I wasn’t expecting at the time. All the musicians have incredible ears to be able to pull this off. Ornette Coleman used the harmolodic system which allowed contrapuntal movement during the solos to avoid a key center. Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins were masters at this and could make any soloist sound great by deep listening, feel and support.

Uriah Theriault (guitar)

Dirty Three — Ocean Songs, 1998

My first exposure to Mick Turner came through this album, which introduced me to a broader range of guitar styles than the folk music I had been listening to. Unlike Fahey’s intricate picking patterns, Mick Turner’s guitar work resonated as lyrical phrases more than prose. Often open and spare, other times stormy and erratic, his guitar created atmosphere and conveyed emotion without relying on virtuosic solos. He and drummer Jim White crafted moody mise-en-scenes for Warren Ellis's main character, and l found myself drawn to the visual storytelling more than the narrative itself. Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to see Mick perform in various forms, but the tour for this album stands out due to a specific memory. During a live performance of “Authentic Celestial Music,” my then-girlfriend passed out right in front of the stage. A stranger and I caught her and moved her to the side. When she came to, her only remark was, “Great song.”

Popol Vuh — Hosianna Mantra, 1972

I was familiar with Popol Vuh only as Herzog’s house band until I heard this album, and it cut immediately. I listened religiously to this enigmatic album over the span of a few years, whenever I took a shower so that my attention was undivided. Defying easy categorization, the collection spans classical, ambient, and krautrock. The title track was haunting, calling back to the only music I knew growing up, Catholic hymns. The guitars, oboe, and harpsichord weave sinewy webs of harmony — more chamber music than rock bravado, more conversation than monologue. The ecclesiastical tenor of the Hosianna Mantra (Hosianna, or "please save") sits uncomfortably amongst its dancy krautrock contemporaries, but the slow-burn nature of this album is anything but stiff. If deep attention is akin to prayer, as suggested by Simone Weil, then to me, this album is a dozen rosaries — penance not required.

[byullielle]

That Mind Mine to Lose // Han Jisung x Gn!Reader

yes another song-inspired fic, it's the 3RACHA brand atp; odds by NIKI, but only the line 'What I'd give to make that mind mine to lose' because I am the biggest genius!Jisung enthusiast A look into how Jisung shares his creative processes with Y/N, and although they don't get it too much they're still overall amazed and endeared by the sheer passion Jisung has for his job.

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Kissies, Music Terminology (author doesn't know wtf she's saying style), Est. Relationship, Petnames (baby, darling, jagiya/jagi)

Disclaimer: wrote this to NIKI's entire discography because idk what it is but in my mind she's so...jisung coded (???) i suggest listening to acoustic guitar-heavy music while reading

A strum then a tap against the fret board, and then another strum, before a full chord comes out, the grunting. Even with your back turned you could see your boyfriend's cute little pout, lips pursed out while bending to write something down on the notepad on the coffee table.

You're heating up cups of tea and coffee for the both of you since he is deemed energetic enough to not stay cooped up in his room and provide you a little show about how he works on his songs. And while you make snacks and a drink the guitar has been playing partially for the past 10 minutes. It isn't a full song, but the humming, half strums and taps to the fretboard with some of his own mumbling and light singing provides the comfiest atmosphere to man. You love watching and hearing Jisung work, always so entrapped in how he concentrates then suddenly lifting his head to smile at you. It turns your heart into mush and would render you wanting to bash your head against the wall because of pure cuteness aggression.

Your Jisungie was one energetic beast. Always running off the walls, dancing around the house, and on a tangent about everything and anything—and it wasn't that you didn't love him for that, but there was just an entirely different vibe when Jisung is in the zone but with your presence in the mix. It's comforting and healing, as Felix would put it.

Putting the plate of warm cookies and your mugs on the small tray, you carry it to the living room and set it down on the coffee table, "Jagiya," you let out in barely a whisper because he has his guitar encased in his arm and eyes closed as if he's pulling some lyrics within the galaxies of inspiration behind those closed eyes. You sit on the velvet armchair right across your couch where he was working, not wanting to invade his personal space.

He smells the coffee and opens his eyes, beaming up at you to see the snacks. "Sweet!" he beams up at you and reaches out to take a cookie, "Baby, what are you doing there? Come sit here," he pats the spot next to him. "Are you sure?" you ask but already stand from your spot.

"Of course! I need some of your powers so that I could think of things," he chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek immediately right after you sit down, then another on your lips after you set your drink down. You couldn't help but giggle, cupping his face quickly before pressing one last peck on his lips, letting go before settling down on the couch. "What are you working on?"

"I wanna make it sound like, soulful but bridge should have some high point," he visualizes with his hands in front of him, twisting and turning as he interprets it physically, "Like, if a sad song had a happy beat, there's supposed to be a hook that lets it sinks in that it's a sad song," he rambles on, and you nod along, trying your best to revision what he's trying to achieve although you're probably thinking of two different things.

"I have like, a verse and the bridge but it's still missing a whole chorus and two more verses,"

"Well, let's hear what you've got, if it's alright," you request, which makes him look over to you with heart eyes, absolutely smitten by your request as the tips of his ears turn pink, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Okay," he replies before pulling the notepad closer, but you take it and hold it up for him.

"Thank you darling," he smiles before clearing his throat. He strums a few chords, making you sway gently against the fine melody he's making, a bit choppy but not like you could do any better. He starts singing, lyrics still unrhyming but still holding weight, his voice and the chords of the guitar melding properly and you giggle at the sudden dissonance after he plays the wrong chord. He carries on until it's over.

Then a comfortable blanket of silence envelops you both. You set the notepad down and gently clap for him, delight spread all over your features as he chuckles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think it's starting to sound nice," you honestly say, knowing he hates it when it's a simple 'sounds good,' because he needs to know how it sounds to you. And you love him so much for valuing your opinion because you could be credited for half his work at that point. Which was something both of you often joke about.

"It's like...you know when you listen to a song for the first time not knowing its lyrics so you assume its a happy, acoustic song?" you try to explain to him more specifically, "That kinda vibe,"

"I see," he nods. "Well, I'll work on it more tomorrow," he shrugs before strumming the strings one by one, "Wanna sing for you jagiya, is that alright for you?"

"I'd love to!"

With your tea encased in your hands, warming you up, Jisung takes a sip of coffee and a bite of a cookie before starting to position himself properly. He starts out a few testing strums, then fully plays chords familiar to you. As he plays, you sway to and fro, eyes closed and taking occasional sips of tea, his voice relaxing every muscle in your body.

God, did you love Han Jisung. Your creative and talented genius.

if you wanna send in a prompt or an ask or just say hi feel free to do so!!

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Hi! If I am recalling correctly, I remember something about a Desunity rock band AU. I’d love to hear more about that 👀

WELL sorry this took so long lol I have zero excuses, but you have asked and you shall receive!! So.

First off, for the record in this au it's not a traditional romantic relationship, it's more...idk if queerplatonic is the right word? But yeah. Desire is aromantic but not asexual. I just honestly don't care much what sort of bond these two have, the odd couple energy just really appeals to me. Unity has already had relationships and done the whole marriage and kids thing, she values her independence now too much to want to give it up. Also frankly, she cares for them but Desire is too much of a diva for her to want to live together long term. And for their part...yes, the two sleep together on occasion but Desire frankly isn't short of bed partners. Friends...that's something else entirely. (Also honestly I see them having...no idea what to do with kids, and never particularly wanting any. Zorawitch's excellent au is a different beast, this is mine) Unity is sweet and down to earth but so has a wit and tongue that can be as sharp as theirs so honestly, what's not to adore about her?

They both spoil each other in different ways, Unity with genuine affection and connection that allows this prickly diva to maybe even let their walls down sometimes, Desire with attention and gifts and excitement, both of them giving each other great sex. She loves her kids, Miranda Rose and Jed, in this au, but it's hard to get often buried in work and family only, and have less time for yourself. Plus, middle aged women (she's in her 40s that's right; we're doing milf Unity here. Desire's pushing 30) often get treated as undesirable invisible maternal figures. So to have this person sweep into her life and make her feel attractive, and like life is fun again too...it's something she needed even more badly than she realized.

Endless Night, the band, is between tours when Desire happens into the same bar as Unity, and the two hit it off. She didn't know who they were at first, because she's not really a rock fan, which honestly...is for the best because that means the two can really bond as people. (She nearly had an aneurysm when she found some of their videos later) And bond they did...over a trivia quiz game, and fought to a draw. Then they both ended up talking all night and the rest was history.

The rockband part is pretty straightforward, the Endless family are a rock/metal band who are putting out bangers regularly and also constantly on the verge of total collapse because. This family. Nothing can ever be easy with them lol. Desire is the lead singer, Death the guitarist, Morpheus bass guitar and Destruction on drums, Despair is their techie, Del does album art, Destiny is a lawyer and not involved in the band if he can help it xD I will go on about the band part all day if allowed, I've got more to say

Unity in this au also: collects antique dolls, it's something of a passion for her. Her day job is a pastry business she now owns, Kinkaid's Sugartopia.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

theres a lot of different ways people have illustrated the greed and evil of billionaires from visual portrayals of how big a billion actually is to comparing their philanthropy and how much money they have to highlighting the sufferings of those theyve exploited, and theyre all great demonstrations in of themselves.

but one i dont see quite as often is comparing the charitable works of every day people to that of billionaires. i think part of it is that a billionaire can donate more money to charity in one click of a finger than i can in my entire life, but i think another part is a combination of not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth while also not wanting to rock the boat.

a great example of that is the fact that you cant criticise mr beast/jimmy donaldson without people pushing it aside with the notion of "hes helping people" or "the guy could cure cancer and youd find something to criticise about it", which are endlessly frustrating and engaging with your criticism in bad faith.

but outside of him, youll see versions of it across the board for any philanthropic rich person. people automatically assume your criticism is coming from a cynical point of view, and often that you dont ever take part in charitable acts yourself.

and it is endlessly frustrating to run into that attitude every damn time like youre a dog running into that same glass door. because there is very valid criticism to be made about it.

because most of the time, these people could use that money to make lasting structural changes. i mean, the UN estimates you could end world hunger with $6billion, but no billionaires attempted to. on a smaller scale, you can build shelters or youth hubs or rehab facilities, or you could invest in ongoing work to help people out of poverty or improve local education or help people get better healthcare. or even just put your money where your mouth is and financially back the people trying to make these structural changes.

but these so-called philanthropists dont because systematic changes arent what they actually want. theyre this rich because of the system.

and their philanthropy is a form of propaganda; they want you to think the system is unchangeable and that your only options for improving your life is working yourself to the bone or for some kindly rich person to take pity on you and just hand you the money you need. the system is fucked, but the rich are good people who just want to help. this isnt some hot take, ro ramdin made a great video about mr beast specifically regarding this sort of thing. müne cat also has a video about it which is basically a 30 minute rant from her stream.

i know why you dont see the comparison of billionaire philanthropy to every day charity that often, and its because you have to preface the entire thing with the explanation that i just had to make, because most people dont want to think further than "give money to charity is good". i think part of that is people not realising everything is political, but thats a discussion for a different post.

originally, i started writing this just to get something out of my head. two days ago, i asked my mom if she still had the trumpet i accidentally stole from school (long short story) because id been thinking about the fact like, i could flog that for £200 and £200s a good bit of money. during the conversation, it came up that one of our neighbours had bought an empty guitar case from a charity shop for a fancy dress party, and all thoughts of flogging it were suddenly gone from my mind.

because it reminded me that i could donate it to a charity shop or find a local musical program aimed towards giving poorer kids a chance to learn how to play an instrument. and like, how could i flog it when i could do just a little bit of good with it.

a similar thing happened with these big marvel pictures i had in my room as a teenager. idk how much money theyd go for but they werent cheap when we bought them. but then my mom found this local charity where you could donate items that theyd then auction off and that money went directly to the local foodbank, and so thats where they went.

and this isnt for me to be like hey how good of a person i am; i do not give a shit about that. its about the fact that this mindset is directly opposed to that of billionaires and to neoliberalism in general.

you cant earn a billion dollars by being a good person, we all know that. but i do think a great illustration of it is to compare those billionaires with the people who run your local food bank or run charity drives or the people who put free period products in public bathrooms or the local deli owner who lets unhoused people eat for free.

[goldendragonleaf]

Waddle Dee Town Headcanons

*looks at how the name of my blog is called lair of lore*

*looks down and realizes I haven't shown off like any lore*

whoops! uh, have some Waddle Dee Town hcs from FL. I made like a short description for every notable dee (plus an extra) so be warned that it's long under the cut.

Café-Manager Waddle Dee (Cafdee): She's might be his boss, but she's also the Pandee's friend too! You can often find Cafdee trying to comfort a sobbin Pandee about his food being too delicious. She also runs on like 12 cups of coffee per day and is tired from lunch rush hours, but they make do! Café-Staff Waddle Dee (Pandee): A bit on the timid side and has social anxiety™. mans is self conscious about the fact that his cooking is the reason why the beast pack is raiding the town. His cooking is excellent though! (which is why lunch rushes are so frenzied every day) Commentator Waddle Dee (Repdee): A true announcer at heart, Repdee loves his job and can't help but commentate everything he sees! He's actually pretty brave and energetic, and everyone around town knows and loves him! (even if he is a bit annoying with how loud and often he commentates sometimes) Delivery Waddle Dee (Deelivery): Although he's the youngest dee with a job in town, Deelivery is very hardworking and kind to everyone he works with! Deelivery is in charge of importing all the goods to all the other services in town, as well as mail! Due to this, the rest of the dees often come over saying that he should take a break… Game-Shop Waddle Dee (Tildee): He's the main reason why taxes are so high/everyone is so poor in waddle dee town. A shame that his games are so popular too; Tildee is jokingly hated on due to the notorious level that shall not be named, but he's actually a pretty nice guy! Mans is very honest, and donates most of his star coins to charity/helping other dees! He's also the oldest working dee in town. Item-Shop Waddle Dee (Elixdee): Has a friendly rivalry with the cafe, but they're more often than not business partners. He's pretty new to the business scene, and is great at chemistry! Also the local pharmacist, yes, Elixdee makes drugs. At least they're prescription!

The Deedly Dees (bass-Baridee, electric guitar-Guidee, drums-Thrumdee, and keyboard-Clavidee): Baridee is the leader and the most intense of all 4. He's pretty gruff and blunt, but has the best interests for the Deedly Dees in mind. Baridee's favorite type of music is hip-hop, and will quite literally die on that hill. Clavidee's the 'nice girl' of the group, always excited and going "yayyy!!!" She loves pop music and everything cutesy and pink! Guidee is the most chill and easygoing, and loves lofi, the blues, and jazz. Thrumdee is the least talkative out of the 4, but has the loudest music tastes. In fact, his neighbors have to deal with blaring loud rock music most nights (which Thrumdee will not apologize for). Minion Waddle Dee (Mindee): A kid, but also smaller than the average dee of his age. He loves bananas, and idolizes the King! Mindee is also friends with Gorimondo, and generally a fun-loving child all around! He's also my favorite,,,,,,,,,, Trader Waddle Dee (Tradee): Nicknamed "Trashdee", Tradee is a scammer with an entire hoard of rare stones that he scammed out of all those poor dees. In fact, it's gotten to the point where he's as bad as Magolor… If you can't tell I really hate him Usher Waddle Dee (Videe): Your classic theater kid, he's quite dramatic with the way he talks, even in normal conversation! Videe is bigger than other dees, and it's not because of what you think! He's actually quite buff and works out a lot, and could take on Meta Knight just fine! Of course, no one knows that, but if the other dees did they would probably treat him quite differently. Weapons-Shop Waddle Dee (Smithdee): The 2nd-buffest dee after Videe, Smithdee has spent most of his life oogling all sorts of contraptions, and was the main builder in the construction of Waddle Dee Town! Quite energetic despite his age, he's a big softie and would never hurt anyone.

Wise Waddle Dee (aka Bandee): Unknown to everyone, Wise Waddle Dee is actually Bandee from the future. After learning so much throughout his years of adventuring with Kirby, Bandee decided to travel to the past and help his younger self bloom. That one dee that walks around watering flowers (Rosedee): A gardener at heart, Rosedee is in charge of taking care of the flowers around the main plaza, and is actually dating Elixdee! Her job would be a lot easier if Kirby stopped trampling the flowers and if the rain stopped taking its water back…

[forathousanddays]

Closure in Moscow - Soft Hell (REVIEW)

My last time touching on Closure wasn't terribly successful in either reach or reception, but I'm doing this one again for me, and because I said I would back in my First Temple review. I always give a brief rundown on the artist in my preamble, but I've already gone into detail on these guys once before on this blog.

Soft Hell does carry a different angle to it, though. It's a lot closer to their sophomore album Pink Lemonade than it is to something like First Temple or Penance and The Patience, but it's a wholly unique experience. Not only is it unique when viewed through the lens of Closure in Moscow's discography, but also in prog as a whole. I've never quite heard anything like it, and we'll see exactly what that means below the cut.

TRACK 1 - Jaeger Bomb

The lead-in is quiet and reserved, with guitar reminiscent of some of the slower parts in Pink Lemonade. As soon as the preamble concludes, though, we have a weight that we really haven't heard from their discography yet. Jaeger Bomb exists in a state of very curious balance; the verses are very light and high, while the pre-chorus and chorus are a broad, heavy sound. Featuring guitarist Mansur Zennelli and feature artist Aphir as background vocals provides something very new to the band, which was previously exclusively sung by Christopher de Cinque. "I don't actually wanna hurt anyone, I'm just gonna be the monster that I need for me." is a great line. Solid opener, very good at establishing that this is a new sound. 7/10 TRACK 2 - Primal Sinister

I hope you didn't get too comfortable when I said Jaeger Bomb introduced us to something new; no two songs on the album sound similar. The wide range of vocals is a really fun effect, and definitely evokes some of the same feelings as Pink Lemonade. The rolling bass in the back-and-forth sections of the chorus is a blast every time I hear it, and the strange plink-plonk guitar in the bridge keeps me on my toes. Primal Sinister is weird, even by Closure in Moscow standards.

The refrain is a blast too, especially at the outro. The song is just really, really fun. 8/10

TRACK 3 - Absolute Terror Field Ah. Hm. I have some reservations about the vtuber-esque discord kitten rap sections, purely for the inclusion of the phrase discord kitten as a whole. I'm a little worried to see how it'll date the album in the future, but man if the sections aren't groovy. The quite frankly gnarly beat is a highlight, with a nasty low bass that perfectly highlights de Cinque's higher vocals. The inclusion of the phrase "wet for Jesus" in the rap sections is also a nice wink to anybody who likes to look in on de Cinque's twitch streams. Looking forward to the interview where he explains why the title is an Evangelion reference. 9/10

TRACK 4 - Better Way

Better Way had me very excited for Soft Hell's release. As a preview single, it was very effective in teasing me and keeping me on the edge of my seat. Better Way is something entirely new to the discography, but simultaneously a crystallization of everything we know from them. The bridges are essential First Temple/Penance and The Patience lyricism, the high shred guitar is reminiscent of Pink Lemonade/Impeccable Beast, and yet none of it feels derivative. The guitar solo in between the two sections of the bridge is probably my favourite stretch on the record. I'll need to find footage of them playing it live, but I wanna say the beeping sound is tap guitar? I wouldn't have picked anything else for our first preview. 10/10

TRACK 5 - Holy Rush

Holy Rush is immediately groovy. I don't want to keep tying Soft Hell back to Pink Lemonade, as it stands on its own as a work of art perfectly, but the lyrics in Holy Rush are quite literally the plot of Pink Lemonade. "Chasing heaven when you're feeling numb, never enough ... With one more taste of paradise, the noise in my head drowns out." The bridge is stellar, and I really appreciate the decision to switch up the vocalists. The lyrics in the outro being an inverse of the intro is really cool, with the cold vs the sun. 8/10

TRACK 6 - Keeper of The Lake

Pay attention to the bass when you listen to this one, it does some really interesting things. I'd like this track a lot more if I could properly get behind the momentum, but it seems to stop and start pretty often in ways that feel a little disruptive. All of the instrumentation is stellar, with almost bluesy somber chords in the background of the chorus. de Cinque shows off his pipes yet again, with a really powerful belt in a couple different spots.I wish I had more to say about this one; it's completely alright. The last minute or two is definitely a highlight.

The instruments and vocals are really technical and super strong, but the way they're put together is a little underwhelming? 7/10

TRACK 7 - Lock & Key

Once again, a largely just alright song has a lot of really strong ingredients that are put together competently. I'm lucky I'm just a hobbyist, because I don't think "it just doesn't do it for me" would hold up in a proper review article. Everything here is technically really solid, the guitar work is the proggiest it's ever been and the vocals are very measured; de Cinque clearly knows what he's doing here, and you can get the sense that he's practiced and refined his technique. The mix is great, too, but something about it just feels forgettable.

I could see guitar with a similar structure making its way into a Polyphia track, which is a compliment. 6/10

TRACK 8 - Don Juan Triumphant

Don Juan Triumphant is the name of an opera written by The Phantom of The Opera within the story. There may be some references tucked into the lyrics I can't quite catch, but the title seems largely disconnected here. The title reference might have you expecting something elaborate and touching, with some more classical influences, but Don Juan Triumphant is very firmly a groovy prog experience. With one of the strongest chorus sections on the album, it's chronically catchy and unapologetically strange in its composition.

Once again, Closure in Moscow go above and beyond in the last two minutes of the song. 9/10

TRACK 9 - Soft Hell

Woah! Title track! This is my personal favourite place for title tracks to show up, in the last "act" but not as the last song. The record really mellows out near the end, and Soft Hell is where that really sets in. The mix and samples invoke the feelings of that era of mid-2010s pop with Justin Timberlake and Bruno Mars doing their best to genetically engineer the sexiest pop song possible like they were breeding the nose off of a pug. Under that veneer, though, Soft Hell is permeated by anguish. The distant vocals in between the verses feel like they're trying to cut through to you, or to the true feelings of the song, and it's a pretty haunting effect. Altogether, Soft Hell is a really emotional experience, and the softer instruments fit right in here. 7/10

TRACK 10 - Fine

The little lead-in is really fun, with the entire track springboarding off of its delivery. The "I'm alright" refrain is a really nice touch, complimenting the more jazzy delivery on the verses and the nice rolling percussion crashes in the background. Really do keep an ear out for the percussion, all of the hits are consistently super tight and controlled. I appreciate the simplicity in the guitar work here, as the focus should be going mostly on the big-picture mix and the vocals.

Solid performance from everybody involved, great technical work. 6/10 sound.

TRACK 11 - Lovelash

I've seen more praise for Lovelash than any other song, so far. Every time it shuffles on, the synth hit at the start sets off my "oh god is this death grips" alarm, but the percussion is unmistakable. In a traditionally very mechanical prog band, the strong presence of the synth here is a nice effect; Lovelash is a very dreamy experience, complimented by the layering on the vocals in the chorus. Once again, Christopher de Cinque flexes his mastery of the art of writing a bridge, and augments the whole experience with just a couple added lines. Seriously, has this guy fumbled a bridge at any point? They're always the best part. 7/10 TRACK 12 - My Dearest Kate

If you couldn't figure out how pointed Soft Hell was yet, this should help speed that along. The lyrics have all been about parting, from start to finish, and My Dearest Kate is a raw and intimate confrontation of that. There's no groove, no synth, nothing I can call the ever-elusive definition of "proggy." It's just you, the heavily distorted guitar filter, and de Cinque's raw vocals. There's no better adjective for this song; it's a vulnerable confrontation of vulnerable ideas, and I really respect the choice to constantly praise the subject. There's no spite and no bitterness; this is a genuine letter wishing her the best. The easy choice would've been to make this acoustic, but the distortion is a perfect touch. 9/10

RETROSPECTIVE

Soft Hell is a lot of things. AT Field, Better Way, and Dearest Kate are all dramatically different experiences, but you know what? I think it's better for it. There's a reason those are all very highly rated; I don't think I could listen to a full album of Absolute Terror Field-esques, or a full album of My Dearest Kates. (I'd be very open to a full album of Better Way-likes, though.) All of Soft Hell's ingredients are carefully measured and portioned so as not to be overpowering, and as such it comes out as a strangely cohesive experience for being composed of so many moving parts. From Neon Genesis Evangelion to Phantom of The Opera, Soft Hell is a microcosm of culture and extremes.

On my first listen, I was admittedly disappointed; the discord kitten inclusion in Absolute Terror Field set me on edge, and the general lightness of the record had me a little underwhelmed after Better Way set an expectation. Now that it's been out for a while, though, I can confidently say I jumped the gun there. Even my least favourite songs have a reason to be there, and the whole piece would feel underdeveloped without them.

I fully had to Gendo Ikari pose at my screen to decide between the rankings, but I ultimately settled on a 7/10. The highlights are very very high, but the whole unit isn't really shattering any ceilings. If you asked me on a different day, it might be an 8/10. It's very, very close.