#being an artist will make you look up stuff for the dumbest reasons. like hold on i gotta know what a chair looks like
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metadede week: sweets
a regular occurrence at the kirby cafe
#is this funny. Anyway#being an artist will make you look up stuff for the dumbest reasons. like hold on i gotta know what a chair looks like#my art#kirby series#meta knight#king dedede#shipping#metadede#mtddweek2023
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How'd you like the new Death Metal special (and, more broadly, this week's comics)?
pretenderoftheeast said: Comics this week (12/9/2020)?
Batman: Black and White #1: The first of a platter of anthologies today:
* The Tynion/Moore story is predictably fire.
* JHIII is JHIII. Also he does a really nice surprising story about how Batman’s relating to this moment of the time, but let’s be real, you’re here because JHIII, and be assured he is JHIII as helllll here and it’s great.
* Dini/Kubert plays as the former building a story around accommodating requests by the latter, but that’s not a bad thing, and glad to see Kubert’s kept up the pace since his DK3/Up In The Sky creative rejuvenation.
* Ok I’m a philistine who has no idea what that Emma Rios thing was about but it was certainly pretty.
* Wilson doing Batman is surprisingly disappointing, but Smallwood doing Batman definitely isn’t.
DC’s Very Merry Multiverse: Not a very merry time! I hate to say it given this should be so geared to my interests, but this is the weakest overall effort we’ve gotten from one of DC’s quarterly anthologies in a good long while, at least among those I’ve picked up. Not to say it’s a dud, there are several nifty little stories in here including the much-hyped first appearance of Kid Quick (destined to become the Flash of Future State) and really almost everything here reaches ‘pretty okay’. But for $10, and a creative space that should reach so much more than ‘pretty okay’, I don’t know that this is a justifiable recommendation unless you’re understandably desperate for all the President Superman content you can get your hands on.
Tales of the Dark Multiverse: Flashpoint: I’m surprised I got it too, but the preview grabbed me and in practice it was a fun, mean little high-concept adventure of Reverse Flash being a total cock.
Wonder Woman #768: Credit where it is due, this has been getting a bit better in its closing stretch.
Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: This ruled. Obviously there was the one story folks are most interested in, but almost all of the tales in here lived up to being a ‘final’ story of sorts for their leads.
* The Titans bookenders were pretty nice even if it’s hilarious that their big rallying cry basically amounts to “by god, our book may be shit, but we’re valuable IP so we’ll never be cancelled!”
* Green Lantern is basically an epilogue to Johns’ run sans the baggage of bringing back Johns (that we get in two weeks with Secret Origin and god forgive me I’m so looking forward to that), and definitely one of my favorite efforts from Lemire.
* Wonder Woman’s the stinker in what’s nominally her own event. I can parse the roots of most bad Superman stories one way or another, but I just can’t understand what’s behind most bad Wonder Woman stories beyond that the people handling it simply don’t give a shit.
* Astonishingly, the Green Arrow and Black Canary chapter in here might be my favorite of the bunch? Simone at her best, a really sweet slice of playful, sincere romance about two characters I’m not by default invested in but ended up quite caring for here.
* This Aquaman story is everything I generally hate in Aquaman stuff, a big long maudlin speech about the weight of the world as he swims through a black featureless ocean, except here between the real heart Sebela brings to the script and the mood artist Christopher Mooneyham manages to evoke, it all clicks together.
* The Batman Family story feels like it can’t quite make its pacing work, but it’s still a heartfelt little ode to the theoretical power of the concept.
* Hey, that Mark Waid guy? Turns out he can write him some Superman. It’s not perhaps the total barnburner you might have expected - I imagine he’s saving his biggest hits for later - but it’s a very solid execution of a gangbusters concept, and Manapul steals the show with absolutely sensational, gorgeous scenic Superman imagery. I’mma say 60/40 in favor of them doing a Superman project together on either a main book or Black Label (I know Manapul was supposed to be locked into a creator-owned thing with Scott Snyder but that was ages ago), because this is a paring that’s yielded some immediate results and I imagine everyone knows it. And given my upbringing, nice to see a big, iconic, beautiful Superman story with him rocking the mullet.
Anonymous said: Haha holy shit Crossover is literally Cates taking that page where Spawn meets all the corporate heroes locked up and spinning it out into a series
Anonymous said: Does Crossover #2 hold the crown for the funniest, dumbest, most baffling opening page ever?
Crossover #2: Readers I’m not too big to admit I laughed my ass off at the first page, and at least a little bit for the actual reasons intended. The sense of homaging that Spawn scene in the context of a book about “Gosh, isn’t IP the best folks?”, or Cates’ dialogue...(shall we say) proving why he likes the concept of ellipses enough to name a character after them aside though? That it’s already crossed the line with its central metaphor from “indefensibly insensitive in its ridiculous self-centeredness” to “out-and-out cartoonishly offensive” somehow actually makes it more rather than less palatable; there’s no longer the secondhand embarrassment of waiting to see how bad Cates is going to handle this, it simply is the worst it could possibly be and readers have to accept and perhaps revel in the sight of him stepping on rake after rake. I cannot wait for him to finally give an interview on this book where he explains what the hell he thinks this looks like, and I hope my dad keeps somehow enjoying it forever because I totally wanna see what pit this descends to next.
Penultiman #3: This is absolutely agonizing and probably the most relatable take on a ‘superman’ ever.
Home Sick Pilots #1: A new creator-owned book from Dan Watters (whose big two credits include the stupendous “Afraid of America” with John Paul Leon in the last Batman Secret Files, and the upcoming Future State: Superman/Wonder Woman) and Peter Cannon’s Caspar Wijngaard, this new book set against the backdrop of a Californian high school’s punk scene in 1994 describes itself as “Power Rangers meets The Shining (yes, really)”. The former influence isn’t much in play yet, but thus far this is a book that merges building tension and freewheeling dopey teen bullshit to an extent that’s subtly impressive as hell, and seems likely to proudly take a place among the current horror comic renaissance.
Warhammer 40,000: Marneus Calgar #3: Ok again I don’t have any experience with this franchise but you’d better believe that cultural osmosis was enough that I popped for BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!
King in Black: Namor #1: Kurt Busiek’s return to Marvel...sucks? Such is the power of Knull I guess even if he doesn’t manifest within the actual story here, this is a complete nothing of a comic and I’m not tuning in for issue #2.
Avengers #39: Eh, I’m not liking Aaron Avengers when it gets remotely serious nearly as much as when he’s doing stuff like having them finally help Blade with all those vampires or Captain America assisting with the delivery of an exploding space-baby in the back of a muscle car.
Anonymous said: That new Guardians of the Galaxy was something else. What do you think the odds are that Comic Books, with a decade or two of hindsight, recognizes Ewing as one of the best to ever do it?
Guardians of the Galaxy #9: I lack much context here beyond recalling from an interview that this is Ewing’s way of grappling with the ideas from Steve Englehart’s original unrealized vision of Star-Lord’s character arc, but wherever it stems from this is a hell of a comic.
S.W.O.R.D. #1: This is everything I’ve wanted from the non-Hickman X-books since the moment HoXPoX ended, and so much more, and also it is basically hilarious that Ewing is all but explicitly using his clout to force Marvel to let him to Ultimates3 under a currently cancellation-proof banner. Most importantly of all, Ewing has already mastered the subtle art of writing not merely Magneto, but the infinitely superior Jonathan Hickman Magneto. And good lord Schiti and Gracia, I already knew they were top-tier but these pages’d make a grown man cry.
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Hi Zaina UwU may I request “It is so awkward having a crush on a [coworker/classmate].”
With Kimura/Okano being annoying tsunderes for the lols :eyes:
Please make it as crack as possible thank you love you bestie <3
omg I love this 😂 ofc bestie 💕💕
Word count: 1,589 words
“Can you just move over?” Okano growled, trying her absolute hardest to resist the urge to shove her comrade over. Hard.
Kimura glanced at her, clearly annoyed. “Um, can you just shut up?” He made no effort to scoot aside on the bench.
She gave up and threw her arms in the air. “Ugh, I don’t even know why I bother! You’re the worst.”
He stuck his tongue out. “Back atcha.”
Okano defeatedly retreated to the grass, a few meters away. She sat down besides her friends, trying and failing to fight back the heat rushing to her cheeks. “I hate him,” she said sourly.
Maehara looked up at her from his phone. “Mm-hmm.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?!”
“What?” he asked innocently.
Okano eyed him. “You said ‘mm-hmm’,” she replied, imitating his voice.
“Ah. Well, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Kurahashi shoved him gently. “Stop lying to her, Maehara-kun. Yes, you did.”
“What?” Okano’s eyes narrowed.
Maehara pursed his lips, making a hum sound before inhaling. “You and Kimura obviously like each other.”
WHAT??????????
“Wha-” She instantly kicked him in the shin, earning a choked groan from the soccer player. “GROSS! That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said! There’s no way I’d ever like that booger-looking ass gremlin.”
Kurahashi just looked at her, a patient yet conniving sweet smile on her lips. “Then...why are you blushing?”
Okano’s eyes widened in horror at her reflection off of the sunglasses that sat on the grass by them. Oh no...I AM blushing...
No, no, no, no, no, NO!
Without another word, she whirled around and dashed away, her face still heated up.
Unlike his short-tempered partner, Kimura had already accepted his feelings. He disliked them immensely, but knew there wasn’t much anything he could do.
He’d tried focusing his attention on Kurahashi, to no avail. He’d tried avoiding Okano at every moment possible, but it was hard when they were PE partners and in the same friend group. He also sat behind her...
And now, he’d decided the best course of action was simple. Just be an annoying asshole to Okano. There’s no way he could feel attraction to her if she was yelling at him or kicking the shit out of him.
Or so he thought...
“Urghhh!” He groaned, covering his face with his arms. “Of all the girls in the world, why do I like you?!”
He knew why.
Okano was his partner, his classmate, his friend, and his rival all in one person. Their bond had been building over so much in the past year. No matter how much they bickered, they’d always have each other’s backs.
“Having relationship troubles?” A familiar voice caught his attention and Kimura quickly snapped up in surprise. A very smug Maehara stood by, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.
“What the fuck-how long have you been there?!”
The soccer player casually examined his nails. “Oh, long enough to hear all your woes.”
Kimura groaned. “Dude why are you so creepy and overdramatic? You seriously stood by that tree, waiting for me to say that.”
“I’m being helpful!” Maehara whined. “Now tell me what’s wrong!”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Kimura replied quickly.
“Bullshit. Now have a seat and spill everything to me, child.”
Kimura relented and awkwardly lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged near Maehara, who did the same.
“Fine...” Kimura sighed. “I don’t-I guess it’s just really...weird liking the person I like.”
Maehara hummed, stroking his chin. “And who would that be?”
He glared at him. “You already know, dude.”
“I do not.” He lied.
Kimura rolled his eyes. “It’s Okano. I like Okano, okay?”
“Ah...I see...” Maehara drawled, irking Kimura more and more by the second. “And what exactly is making this hard for you?”
“It’s just so awkward having a crush on a classmate.”
Maehara raised an eyebrow, thankfully dropping the psychologist front for a moment. “Uh, no it’s not. That’s where 95% of teenagers get their crushes, man.”
Kimura spluttered. “Okay, fair. But she’s my classmate, friend, partner, and rival all in one person. I’ve always seen Okano like a bro, but now I like her?”
“Hmm yeah that’s one predicament you’ve got, my friend,” Maehara agreed, running a hand through his hair. “But I know Okano, and the best way you can approach this is just being upfront. Tell her how you feel, be straightforward!”
Kimura eyed him suspiciously. “Will that really work? She might just kick the shit out of me...”
His friend waved him off. “Trust me.”
And so Kimura did.
“Uh, thanks for walking home with me,” Okano said awkwardly, adjusting the hold on her bag.
You idiot, you probably sound like a weirdo! She screamed internally. But she just wanted to say something to break the silence that had been resting between them for the past five minutes.
Kimura was walking a few feet behind her, his figure lax as his hands rested behind his head in a way that reminded her strongly of Karma. Huh. Maybe chuunis really do rub off on each other, she thought wryly.
“No problem,” Kimura replied, sounding a bit distracted. “I have to stop by the convenience store on my way, anyways. And I know you usually ride your bike so you’re not used to walking alone.”
“Yeah,” she laughed lightly. “That’s true.”
Silence stretched between them once again, but to Okano’s relief, it was more comfortable this time. Some of the old familiarity in their dynamic had returned, as Kimura stuck his tongue out at her playfully when she looked back at him.
They continued walking until they reached the bridge, surrounded by the noise of cars rushing past them. Okano looked to her left and admired the way the sunset reflected off the water, making it a lovely orange-pink hue. If she was artistic in anyway, she would’ve loved to re-create the image somehow.
“Okano,” Kimura suddenly said, catching her attention. She had to strain a bit to hear it, given the wind swirling past her from the traffic.
“What?” She replied, raising her voice slightly as she turned around to face him.
Kimura, for some reason, was standing a few meters away from her, the colors of the sky lighting up his face. “Okano, I-” Whatever he said next was drowned out by the cars.
“What?” Okano called back, furrowing her eyebrows.
“I said I-” Interrupted again, this time by a particularly large oil truck passing by.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
He opened his mouth again but she made out no words.
“What the hell are you saying?!” She shouted.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I SAID I LIKE YOU!” He screamed back, and she finally heard him.
Oh. So that’s what he was trying to say.
Oh.
Oh crap.
Okano’s brain froze for a moment as it caught up to her. Then all the blood in her body quickly rushed to her brain, and her face felt like a furnace. “You...what?” she asked in disbelief.
Kimura let out a sharp breath. “I have a crush on you. Okay?”
Oh my god.
She stayed absolutely still, processing it. “Okay...”
Kimura’s eye twitched and he marched right up to her. “Hello? Are you even gonna reply? I just confessed to you, idiot.” He punctuated his words with a flick to her forehead.
She grabbed his wrist, her reflexes acting immediately. “Back off, stupid! I heard you loud and clear,” she muttered annoyedly.
“So? What’s your answer?” His voice turned slightly whiny, sounding almost anxious. He tried to yank his hand back but Okano kept a firm grip on it.
“My answer...” she started lowly, eyeing him. “Is that I like you too.”
A few seconds passed as Kimura froze, his eyes wide.
“Hello? Are you gonna reply? I just admitted my feelings for you, idiot,” Okano imitated his voice as she repeated his words.
He seemed to snap back to reality as his eyes met hers. “Are you being for real? Like this isn’t a joke?”
Okano scoffed, finally releasing his hand. “No, dumbass. It’s not a joke. I like you,” she said slowly.
“Oh...” He averted his gaze, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. “Cool.”
She rolled her eyes, punching his arm lightly. “Cool? Man, you’re so bad at this romance stuff. Who confesses in the middle of a busy highway section?”
“Okay WOW. To be fair, I thought the sunset and water made it romantic enough.”
Okano laughed. “How was I even supposed to hear you properly?”
“You eventually did!” He retorted and joined her so both of them were laughing together.
As it died down, Okano leaned against the railing, smiling at the sunset that was burning away into embers as night was soon to approach. “Man...we’re probably gonna be one weird ass couple.”
He joined her, dropping his bag to the ground lightly. “Speak for yourself, weirdo.”
She chuckled. “Korosensei is gonna lose his shit.”
“Maehara too,” Kimura agreed. “Hmm though, he wasn’t a half-bad wingman, I guess.”
Okano turned to him in disbelief. “You took Maehara’s love advice? He of all people really told you to confess on a busy loud bridge?” she snorted.
“Ah no...I took creative liberties on that one,” Kimura admitted, his face slightly pink.
Okano laughed and looked up. “It’s getting dark. We should get back now.”
“Yeah...” Kimura glanced at the time on his phone before picking up his bag again. “Wanna hold hands?” He asked sarcastically with a grin.
“Hold my hand and I’ll throw you over this bridge.”
#assclass#ansatsu kyoushitsu#assassination classsroom#hinata okano#justice kimura#writing#im not very good at crack lmao but i tried my best#maehara as a wingman is so funny to me shjsafsdksa
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Some Other Women, Part II
Previous post, now with extra crackfic discussion and corpse disposal. Same disclaimers apply.
Domitia Lepida (the elder): Caligula’s cousin, Nero’s paternal aunt. There’s a story that when she was bedridden, she told Nero that she wanted to stay alive long enough to see the coming-of-age ritual of his first shave. According to this story, Nero said he’d shave posthaste - and then poisoned her and took her stuff.
In Fateverse, of course, Nero wasn’t going to have anything to shave up there but her eyebrows, so I wonder how it would have translated. That, and the arts festival that historical Nero threw when he did have his first shave. I’m picturing something with an obviously fake beard, Hatshepsut-style.
Domitia Lepida (the younger): Caligula’s cousin, Nero’s paternal aunt, mother of Empress Messalina. She raised Nero once his father (her brother) died and Agrippina was exiled. After Agrippina’s return they came into conflict, not least over her influence on Nero. Apparently Lepida was the honey to Agrippina’s vinegar. But when Agrippina, now Empress, brought trumped-up capital charges, she got the teenage Nero to testify against her. Lepida was subsequently executed.
Claudia Octavia: Daughter of Claudius and Messalina, Britannicus’s sister, Caligula’s first cousin (though far younger than him). Nero’s first cousin once removed, stepsister, and unloved first wife. She was a couple of years younger than Nero and their marriage was arranged some years after their parents’, when she was thirteen and Nero was fifteen.
A bit over a year later, her father died and Nero became emperor. A few months after that, she witnessed Britannicus die of poison at a dinner party while Nero dismissed his death throes as an epileptic fit.
(Also present, by the by: the future emperor Titus, who was Britannicus’s BFF or at least liked to say that he was in the years afterward, and also said that he had a sip from Britannicus’s cup and was deathly ill for a while)
(Also: The ever-virtuous Seneca wrote a nasty little RPF about her dead father called the Apocolocyntosis. You can find online translations of a work that historians are reasonably convinced is the same one. It trashes Claudius as a deformed mass murderer and Caligula’s whipping boy, and shamelessly sucks up to Nero)
By all accounts Octavia was an ideal virtuous Roman wife despite all this, with a lot of practice at holding her tongue and hiding her feelings, but Nero didn’t care for her and busily carried on affairs with first Claudia Acte, then Poppaea Sabina (see below). She was popular with the people, probably because of the ideal virtuous Roman wife thing. Seven years after becoming emperor Nero finally divorced her to marry Poppaea, leading to protest in the streets. Nero kept escalating, exiling her further and further away, accusing her first of being barren and then of committing adultery - first of doing it with a random slave, then with his admiral Anicetus (who had previously killed Agrippina for him, and who he paid off for his assassination and perjury with a cushy retirement of an “exile” in Sardinia). He threw in an accusation that she’d aborted an illegitimate child, never mind that he’d previously said she was barren. Her slaves were tortured to provide more “evidence,” but most of them refused to break. Eventually, on the encouragement of Poppaea, who was nervous at her popular support, the executioners came for her.
By now Octavia was imprisoned on Pandateria, one of the go-to exile spots for women of the imperial family. Augustus’s daughter Julia had died there, and Caligula’s mother/Nero’s grandmother Agrippina the Elder, and Nero’s aunt Livilla. She begged to be allowed to live as not Nero’s wife but merely his sister, to no avail. It’s said they tried to bleed her to death, but she was so frightened the blood wouldn’t flow heavily enough (I have no idea about the biological veracity of this), so they suffocated her instead and brought back her head to show Poppaea. She was about twenty-two years old.
Headcanon time: Britannicus took after Messalina in looks, and Octavia took after Claudius, so Claudius was far more certain she was his. Hence he eventually agreed to a marriage between his daughter and his “stepson,” with the understanding that they’d be engaging in the good old Roman custom of adoption. The seemingly more sensible measure of a marriage between Britannicus and a female Nero was dismissed because of his doubts about Britannicus’s paternity.
Historically it’s speculated that Nero poisoned Britannicus so that Agrippina, who he was already quarreling with, couldn’t hold him over his head as a threat. But in Fateverse Everything Is Agrippina’s Fault, so she probably poisoned Britannicus too, to make sure he didn’t challenge Nero as he got older. Maybe he really did have epilepsy, and Nero didn’t take it seriously until it was too late - and maybe Octavia didn’t believe that she hadn’t known.
And the slander? The murder? It can’t be blamed on Agrippina, who was dead for three years by then and in any case wanted him to stay with Octavia for political reasons. Shall we switch gears to Everything is Poppaea’s Fault? FGO Nero in Septem is from 60 AD, the year after Agrippina died, and the divorce/remarriage was in 62. Were the effects of Agrippina’s poison really kicking in at this point, leading to Nero’s paranoia ramping up?
Claudia Acte: Nero’s first love, a freedwoman formerly owned by the Claudian clan and afterward under their patronage, indicated by receiving the name Claudia upon her manumission (headcanon: Nero met her because she was one of Octavia’s attendants). From her name, she might have been a performer of some kind (alternate headcanon: Nero noticed her after she played the role of Andromache in Seneca’s Trojan Women). Nero fell for her so hard that he sought to fake a genealogy that made her a long-lost princess of Pergamum, presumably so she would be a suitable wife. The relationship was a source of conflict between Nero and Agrippina, who presumably thought putting aside an emperor’s daughter to marry a former slave was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard of. As such it was encouraged by people like Seneca and Burrus, to lessen Agrippina’s influence. Some of Seneca and Nero’s friends helped run interference. One of them pretended that Acte was his mistress; Nero would slip him presents to pass on to her. There’s a story that Agrippina, desperate to recover her influence, starting trying to get incestuous with her son. Seneca nipped that in the bud by getting Acte, who herself was alarmed by this development, to go tell Nero to please don’t get down and dirty with your mother, it’s gross and the soldiers won’t like it.
You would think she’d be cast in the role of the Grasping Gold-Digging Whore, but that wasn’t the case. The likes of Tacitus regarded her as far better than Poppaea - to them, she was a nice inoffensive girl who knew her place and followed the instructions of good influences. Eventually even Christians began to claim she had been one of them. Why would Nero take so much to this Nice Inoffensive Girl and take so much against Octavia? Romantic chemistry is weird and unpredictable, and that he was never accused of being anywhere near the killing of any of Acte’s family probably helped their relationship. Maybe Acte, the common girl, was supportive of Nero’s artistic endeavors when Octavia, the proper Roman lady, wasn’t.
Being all virtuous and noble doesn’t mean you can’t amass oodles of money, as Seneca can attest (in an age before mass production, he had five hundred identical fancy tables). Nero eventually moved on to Poppaea, but Acte did very well from the affair, and retained her wealth after it ended. There are inscriptions indicating that she owned multiple properties and funded a temple to Ceres (I hear things floating around the Internet about one of those inscriptions being a prayer for Nero to love her again, but haven’t seen any actual source). She would use that wealth after Nero’s death to fund his funeral, presiding with two of his old nurses.
Poppaea Sabina: Nero’s second love and second wife. She was named after her mother, a famous beauty who was driven to suicide by the accusations of Messalina, and took after her in looks. She had red hair, which Nero rhapsodized about and compared to amber - “amber” hair dye became fashionable afterward.
She was married three times. First was to a guy named Rufrius Crispinus, resulting in a son who Nero was accused of having drowned on a fishing trip after her death for supposedly having imperial pretensions (i.e. playing at being the emperor; he was still a kid). Second was to Otho, one of Nero’s buddies who’d helped him with the Acte thing. Third, Nero fell for her and packed Otho off to Lusitania (modern-day Portugal or thereabouts).
All the potential nasty things they didn’t say about Acte? They said them about Poppaea. Josephus is the one historian I know of to have anything nice to say about her; according to him, she was a “God-fearing” woman who sympathized with the Jewish people and influenced Nero to go easy on them. There are claims that she pushed Nero to kill his mother so that he would be free to ditch Octavia and marry her - but, as noted, there was a three-year gap, so if that was the case Nero took his sweet time about it. Then there’s going to extravagant lengths to maintain her beauty i.e. milk baths a la Cleopatra, marrying Otho just so she could get close enough to grab Nero’s attention, and gloating over Octavia’s decapitated head.
She and Nero had a daughter, Claudia Augusta, who died at a few months old (infant mortality’s a bitch). She was pregnant again two years later, at the time of her death. Nero is the prime suspect, being accused of kicking her in the stomach or else jumping on it, possibly after an argument about his time at the chariot races. Modern historians are more inclined to think it was a miscarriage or childbirth complications; if it was childbirth, the child died with her.
At any rate, Nero took her death hard, threw her a grand funeral, and had her declared a goddess. One of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri has a poem of uncertain vintage in which the deified Poppaea is greeted by Aphrodite and reluctantly whisked off to the heavens to be with her children. Later, Nero “took up” with Sporus (a very unfortunate young man who has a whole other sad story) because of his uncanny resemblance to her, and sometimes dressed him in women’s clothes and called him by her name.
Headcanon: Nero, the admirer of Paris, decided she’d rather have a Helen than an Andromache.
Unless Simon Magus had penis-attachment magic, baby Claudia Augusta and the unborn child would have been adopted in that good old Roman tradition. Who was the sperm donor? Otho, perhaps?
Nero would marry a third time, to Statilia Messalina (having her husband bumped off to do it), who survived his fall, was briefly engaged to Otho during his own bid for emperor, and apparently disappeared into obscurity afterward.
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Anyway, hope some of you were entertained by my rambling.
#fate series#fate/grand order#fgo#nero claudius#headcanon#amateur classics hour#tw child murder#tw abuse#tw incest
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Why Space Channel 5 is one of SEGA’s best dumbest games ever, no questions asked. (Report 1 & 1/2.)
Space Channel 5 on the Dreamcast is one of my favorite things ever, let alone favorite video games. Though I more often watch it on YouTube then actually play it.
For those not in the know, Space Channel 5 is a game series developed by United Game Artists and published by parent company SEGA. And that’s the most Wikipedia quoting I’m gonna do in this gush piece.
There aren’t many games quite like this rhythmic, Simon says game. At least in style because this game has that in spades, the gameplay anyone can do. And I am not at all qualified to explain its style because I wouldn’t how to describe it as besides maybe very 70s?
Point is there’s something charming about this game, and I think SEGA agrees with me on that. The lead character, Ulala (seen above), appear in these games to name a few years after new Space Channel 5 games stopped being made after 2002:
2004: Sega Superstars
2006: Sonic Riders
2008: Sega Superstars Tennis and Samba de Amigo
2010: Sonic & Sega All-Stars Racing
2012: Sonic & All-Stars Racing Transformed and Project X Zone
2015: Project X Zone 2
And not to mention the invading aliens have been skins of the titular Puyo Puyo in that series for a while I can’t determine. Possibly since at most 2007 up until current day with Puyo Puyo Champions in 2018/2019.
ALSO not to mention the VR game that came out recently! (How could I forget that? That’s the main reason I’m doing this.)
So it is clear SEGA loves this game and it’s sequel a lot. I don’t think their most beloved cult classic NiGHTS: Into Dreams gets that much love from the company though it certainly does get a lot itself, most games wish their parents still loved them that much long after they had a game. Anyway...
Now the part where I actually talk about the game.
I wanna say, first and foremost. This is not a review of the game. This is just gushing about why this game makes me happy.
And everything I’m gushing about is just what you get from the from one playthrough of the game. Save for one exception, I will not be talking about supplementary material, nor Space Channel 5′s lore.
And yes, this colorful dancing/rhythm/simon says game has lore. Basically any non-repeated character model has their own biograph. So I will not go into that.
You’re not missing too much, there are interesting tidbits, sometimes they fill you in on background details of the story.
Speaking of the story. I’ll start in a second. But if this is new to you, you can watch it here first (The first playthrough is only half the video):
youtube
Prologue:
We start off with a bunch of alien sitting on a space couch watching space TV. These aliens are known as the Morolians and they’ll be the main antagonists for the evening.
This cutscene has no dialogue, so this is all open to interpretation for a first time viewer. Though I do enjoy this split second foreshadowing:
And that’s when the title screen appears. Blasting you with the series’ main theme Mexican Flyer. Look it up if you must. You’ll be hearing it a lot, it’s the game and Ulala’s leitmotif.
Report 1: This is terrorism attack on an airport... I’m gonna ignore that.
This is the only piece of supplemental material I’ll talk about, as it’s present in the game itself, but not elaborated on, and it is important to two of the character.
The game starts in a flashback. In the year AD 2489 a spaceship exploded. Everybody on board died safe for a little girl.
She was rescued by a man working for Space Channel 5. A news organization that with a specific focus on dancing. That last bit is nothing special though, as everything in this galaxy revolves around dancing.
After the little girl is saved by this kindly Channel 5 Gent (Age 25) she knew what she wanted to be after she grew up. She wanted to be a sexy dancing reporter for Space Channel 5 just like him (presumably). And to meet him so she can thank him in person.
10 years later......
It is AD 2499! And the Morolians attack a space airport and their ray beams hypnotize people to dance silly.
THE HORROR!
And that’s when Space Channel 5 sends in Ulala to report on the progress.
But what they’re actually doing is for Ulala to solve the problem instead of the Space authorities.
One character I do wanna mention now is that Ulala’s producer, Fuse, is an unseen character yet is important later. He’s the one briefing Ulala in the screenshot above. And oversees Ulala’s every move.
Also Ulala never got to meet her rescuer. He either left shortly after Ulala got rescued, or shortly before Ulala joined. Given what we learn later, likely the former.
Anyway onto the show:
BAM!
BAM!!
BAM!!!
I will always love that. Ulala got down on the ground in the panicking space air port to coolly report on the panic.
As quick aside, I wanna mention that Ulala doesn’t run in this game, she slowly struts and all of her struts are simply majestic. And those amazing struts lead her to the first gameplay section of this game.
Some Morolians hold a few hypnotized people hostage. This is is a dance battle. Meaning you got repeat exactly what the aliens do in the exact rhythm they did it in order to save the hostages. And I love this gameplay. It’s simple yet fun (provided you got minimal lag, you should look into that if you wanna play this game).
The controls are:
Up: Up
Down: Down
Left: Left
Right: Right/Light
Button 1: Chu (Aliens)
Button 2: Chu (Humans)
And this is how normal people settle things in this world apparently:
Party 1 (usually the Aliens) make up a tough but fair pattern for Ulala to copy in the hopes of psyching her out.
Party 2 (Ulala & Co.) gets as many chances ad she got. And the better she does more people tune into her news report. If she wins she gets what she wants. Saving the hostage and getting Party 1 out of her hair.
Every single one lives by this code of honor and I honestly have no clue if there’s an in-universe reason. But I love it regardless. I love it when people say: Up Down Chu Chu Chu. And the Ulala repeating it.
Though frankly, I don’t like it when the Morolians issue the commands. I like it when others do the exact same commands in this same game, so it’s a little bit of a bummer the Morolians do it.
Anyways. You save the hostages and they join in on Ulala’s unstoppable strut as will always happen if you rescue people. And they strut to the second gameplay type: The Shoot-out.
The controls are the same as the above but now you gotta watch out for humans in the mix.
In general these are trickier. And I might go into that later. But they do work on the same rules.
Don’t worry I won’t go over every dance or shoot-out unless there’s something special about it.
Also I’m pretty sure you kill people if you push the wrong Chu. Don’t do that, it’s bad for the ratings!
Skipping over three battles.Something new happens, rival space news station: Space(?) Channel 42 has a reporter of their own out on the field. And that reporter is planning to steal Channel 5′s viewership. And this is HER!
You do a dance battle and she dies.
Though seriously, I like this game does this. It’s not only aliens you fight, but other factions of the Space News Media. And it’s always a nice shake up when someone besides her shows up.
You see, for the most part any reoccurring enemy has recognizable mannerisms you gotta batlle, and her is no different. It’s hard to describe for me. You kinda gotta play or watch the game for yourself to see what I mean, but I think it’s best exemplified in Report 2. And the following games.
Though one thing’s for sure, each non-normal Morolians or rival reported does bring their own genre switch with them. Heck sometimes even normal battles have unique genres. I’m am not musically inclined so I wouldn’t know hers or most others.
Any way, before she dies she give an emotional speech and gracefully suggests to take her Channel 42 guitarist with her and Ulala accepts that’s the least she could do for a lousy reporter like her.
And then it’s boss time!
Yeah, actual bosses with actual boss characters. And not like the recently deceased as shown above. She’s practically for all intents and purposes another Morolian dance battle.
And it’s down to funky jazz music, not unlike what you’d see in Sonic Adventure! Even Ulala comments on it, confirming it’s dietetic Where does it come from? Not sure, there might be an explanation somewhere. But do keep that in mind. That the music we hear is also the music the characters hear as well.
Anyways:
Not Pictured: Super Stretchy Arms.
I think it’s a bit of a misnomer. Invader is correct, that’s what it’s here for. But is it really a robot? It moves like an organics and is a bit rubbery. This basically goes for all Morolian robots.
I can suspend my disbelief. You shouldn’t nitpick too much about Space Channel 5, it doesn’t want you to think too hard about it’s world even if there’s a lot to it. I’d be concerned if Space Channel 5 did wanna put its story and world building first and foremost.
But “Hypnotized Robot Invader”?
What?
Spoiler.
Robots and hypnotism... I’m pretty sure a sign that we made perfect human-like Artificial Intelligence if they can fall susceptible to Hypnosis. Even then I doubt it.
Sorry, that’s always bothered me, I get what they mean by it. It’s just the word choice... Did they mean Hypnotizing Robot Invader? This boss is great.
It starts off with a normal dance battle, but you get to watch a new Morolian enemy’s moves. It’s also quicker on the draw along with a few softballs to throw your timing off. Pretty good stuff.
And that applies to the next phase as well, where the the shooting starts.
I don’t have much to say.
Unlike the robot’s final phase where it’s the first phase again, but with guns and the robot goes to berserking speeds with the input commands.
And after you beat it, it joins you in a strut.
As does everyone you saved, No matter the gender, nor age, nobody is embarrassed imitating Ulala no matter what she does. We’ll be half as lucky to get a cool future as cool as 2499.
And with that the first report is over.
Report 2: (Age 35)
At the Morolian HQ (Presumably), their boss doesn’t like failure.
But like a good boss he doesn’t dwell on failure and moves on to the next plan. One of his lackeys has this plan: Another boss battle dance robot who operates on:
The everyone at the table is impressed. So I guess Ulala is screwed, game over.
This level is more of the same as the last one more or less, it’s possibly the most boring level in the series in that regard. It’s not bad, this is just the game bulding enough a status quo before they change things up in Report 3.
But that doesn’t make this level any less interesting to talk about, so I won’t go over it much.
The short story until something new happens is: Space Ship (think of it as a fancy yacht but in space) is being attack by Morolians, Ulala is send to report on it, and being the professional she is saves hostages as well.
She saves the captain, crew members, stewardesses, waitresses, the Space Diva (OH NO! NOT THE SPACE DIVA!), passages and the like.
UNTIL!
He voice says “I’m gonna steal you show, Space Channel 5”. And you see this ship flying by:
Another rival reporter, this one a pirate broadcasting station.
Side note: That’s sounds like the most important kind of pirate ever. Alternative news/non-mainstream with no money/rating motive blinding everything with journalistic integrity? Yes, by all means. If they’re pirates then so are Secular Talk & The Humanist Report.
Back to the silly dance game. The Pirates either jam or hack Channel 5′s signal and the Ulala is stuck with them for a while.
And then we meet that where we meet the gent above.
“[His] name is:“
“JAGUAAAAARRRR!!!”
“JAGUAAAAARRRR!!!“
(Age 35)
LET’S DANCE!
Dude, I love Jaguar (Age 35) he’s gotta be my second favorite character in the series on account he’s just cool and incapable of embarrassment.
Remember the deceased of the last report? The Channel 42 reporter in the blue dress? He’s her counterpart for this chapter.
But whereas the deceased’s gimmick sounded air headed for a lack of a better term. Maybe, girly? Point is, battling her didn’t feel too dissimilar to battling Morolians despite her rhytmic mannerisms.
Jaguar (Age 35)’s gimmick is that he just adds. He starts with a simple Up. And then he adds a Chu, and another Chu. Eventually it becomes a really long chain of commands, it has to be some of the longest in the series. And you have to do them all from start to finish because he does them all sequentially. Can you repeat?:
Up. Chu. ChuChu. Right. Left. Down. DownDown. Down. Chu. Chu. Chu.
He is easing you into it, but it is by no means an easy fight. Because after the chain is at its longest, he just spamming ChuChuChu in quick succession. And then a simple Chu.
After defeat Jaguar & Co, escape by jet-pack, saying they will meet later.
This battle is a highlight for me. Coco Tapioco and the big bosses to come are better if you ask me (with exceptions). But Jaguar (Age 35) is some of the best the normal gameplay goes.
And you could argue what normal means in the context of Space Channel 5. But effectively, like Channel 42′s deceased, functionally he might as well be another Morolian if he wasn’t there to be set up for later. Because you do get person that just joins your Strut Club like everywhere else.
You gain his Jazz Man and you get a great sax solo as a reward beating him. Like how you got Channel 42′s guitarist for beating them. I like the think the Jazz Man can work for Jaguar (Age 35) again while the Channel 42 Guitarist is blacklisted.
And before we move on from Jaguar (Age 35) check out his Chu pose:
BOSS TIME!
Jaguar (Age 35): The alien mothership is retreating. Don’t you have to follow them, Channel 5?
Fuse: Blast you, Jaguar [Age 35].
With the pirates giving chase, Ulala is left with the cowardly alien robot to elegant music.
Ignoring the robot’s title, while silly, its cowardice is its greatest asset. For it has kidnapped some space schoolkids, making their space teacher worry. Their space teacher can actually be seen at the start of the report.
Space fashion, am I right?
I’ve exceeded Tumblr’s invisible limit of what to put in a blog post. I’ll have to rewrite this boss what I have to say for this boss. So full, can’t spell check! We’ll be back!
#space channel 5#sc5#ulala#dreamcast#chu#gushing#jaguar#fuse#pudding#coco tapioca#morolina#morolians
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Pain and Noise (Duff x Reader)
Summary: I was fed up with just about everything that constituted my life, so I started playing.
Warnings: Unprotected sex, mentions of violence, swearing, panic attack.
Wordcount: Almost 5k
A/N: First fic I ever write, I am nervous and this was originally in Spanish, so be nice with my best try of a translation. Enjoy :)
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!
Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist
The pain in the back of my hands was intense, searing, and growing worse with every minute I spent holding the drumsticks and unloading my rage over the drums in the studio. The accumulated tension stiffened my fingers, the muscles in my arms were numb and it had been a while since I started feeling my nails spiking my own skin because of the pressure I was putting on it. I didn’t care; I preferred to feel that rather than the anguish that had been threatening to rip off my chest these last few weeks. I don’t know how much time I spent like that. What I do remember is the pain. And the noise.
I also remember sitting on the stool during a little while the guys were out, I’m not sure what for, maybe to grab some food or take a break. They had been working on the album for months, and these days of polishing, re-recording, fixing and tuning everything up for the final version were being especially hard; they deserved a breather. “And so do I”, I told myself while I held Steven’s drumsticks and gave it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He, as any other percussionist, didn’t like it when someone else fiddled with his instrument, not to mention if it happened without him being around to control it. I could only hope that he didn’t show up in that very moment and caught me, because I don’t think I would have the strength to explain him every thought that was circling my head the moment I decided to play his drums, and even less not to drown the whole story with my tears. I mean, come on, it was only going to be a little while.
I had been working with the band practically since the recording process for Appetite for Destruction began. I was in my last year of university, and needed an internship to complete my learning agreement, and, I still can’t comprehend how, my best friend’s father got me plugged-in in Geffen Records. They were the ones who decided that the best option for an audiovisuals student was in the recordings for a young rock band’s debut album. This is how I ended up being Mike Clink’s personal assistant and hanging out with Axl, Slash, Izzy, Duff and Steven. The chemistry had been practically automatic, I got along with them pretty quick and, even though I started being basically the coffee girl, I was always very comfortable in such a creative and carefree environment.
I remember those first days in which Mark, my boyfriend, used to drive me to the studio in his car. I could drive, of course, but my new job seemed almost more exciting for him than it did for me, so he insisted in getting me there, picking me up and making me tell him every little detail of my brand-new work life. He was thrilled when I told him how I had spent twenty minutes of my first day talking with Slash and he had shown interest about my studies, my reasons to be there and my general life. “If we’re gonna work together, we might as well be friends”, he said. The guy told me that he had a snake, that his parents were artists and that’s why he had always been so involved with music. He also said he got his first guitar when he was 15 and that he and the guys ended up together out of sheer coincidence, but they had realized they were the perfect combination, so they were really excited about their new project. It was there that I realized I was in the right place and, even if, worst case scenario, the rest of the band hated me, at least I had a new friend.
However, my worries couldn’t be any more unfounded. Once I had talked to Saul, the rest of it went smoothly. Axl was quite a character, for instance, a guy you felt like looking at. Wherever he was (because he couldn’t stand still for a second), your eyes would be glued to him. He had an enviable magnetism no matter what he did: singing one of their songs, bringing order to the mixing desk, finishing off half a liter of Jack Daniel’s… He was the kind of person who seems out of reach from every one of us mortals but, deep down, is a cinnamon roll. Our first interactions (mostly his, let’s be honest) were filled with double intentions. In any case, now that I see it in retrospective and compare it with the way he treated other girls, I came to think that this was his way to know women in general, his default mode. Actually, those anecdotes of conversations I had with the vocalist were worth a fair dose of laughing for Mark and me during our more than usual supermarket-pizza, Ben-&-Jerry’s-ice-cream dinners in the flat we shared. Over time, Axl’s phase of blatant flirting with me faded away, making room for a really close friendship between the two of us.
Izzy, on the other hand, treated me almost as if I was an experiment. Do you know the feeling when you arrive to a new school but the year has already started and everybody is curious about you? Well, that was more or less how the guitarist reacted to my incorporation. He had never been too talkative, or, at least, not as much as the rest of them, so my first days with the brunet can be summed up to him joining conversations between me and someone else, to learn a bit more about me without having to ask directly; to my hand-waving gestures and his responses raising his chin or his eyebrows; or to him offering me drags of his cigarette from time to time, while we waited for the rest of the guys to record their tracks so we could all go partying together. It was interesting. It was entertaining. It was even funny to see us unfolding, adapting to each other until we gained full trust. We could argue that his more reserved, almost wary personality and my own, more explosive and versatile, complemented each other as two puzzle pieces; one had what the other lacked.
And, while Izzy complemented me, Steven understood me. We were two peas in a pod: energetic, chaotic and jam-packed with energy. Basically the kids in the team. Like two naughty twins, we loved to terrorize the studio. We threw stuff at each other, we laughed like crazy, we yelled from one corner of the room to the other the dumbest, most absurd shit you could imagine… One of the activities I enjoyed the most was to scare away the chicks from him. Some afternoons when he was chilling on the couch, unaware and concentrated on hitting on whatever girl he had just met, I arrived, seated next to him on the couch and went full on clingy-ass-girlfriend with him: handsy and unbearable. I interrupted the groupie and put up with Steven’s deadly glares until, after a while, the girl took off, sometimes walking towards one of the other guys, sometimes straight to her house. The drummer always got mad at me when I did this to him, but his anger never lasted for more than ten minutes.
And then there was Duff. He was something else, something different. I had never had such a connection with anyone, and even less with anyone I had met for so little time. Duff had his own light, like an extremely bright star, and I was flashed by it but, at the same time, he irradiated a delightful kind of warmth, too nice for me to voluntarily step away. He was fun, he was compassionate, he was sensible, he was a little bit mad and he made everything unspeakably easy. The rest of the band spent their days saying that we should have sex or betting on whether we were or weren’t conscious of the sexual tension they assured was too obvious between us. At first, we either told them to fuck off or went along with it, but without giving it much of a second thought. At the end of the day, I was dating Mark, who I adored, and Duff knew it. We were nothing but friends, like the rest of the guys.
Weeks went by and I kept getting closer and closer with the bassist: we talked about everything and anything, we told each other countless anecdotes from our lives before arriving to L.A., and he even sometimes helped me with the paperwork. More than once, even though smoking was allowed in the studio, the two of us stepped outside to do it, and a break that was meant to last for 10 minutes ended up being one hour long. When this happened, Slash had to come out for him, wielding his guitar and threatening to smash it on his head if he wasn’t back inside in the following fifteen seconds. In fact, some of those days when it took me longer to finish my job he would stick around and offer me a ride home before he headed to the club, so that Mark didn’t have to come pick me up that far that late.
Of course, it was all being too good to be true. The first day this happened, when I arrived home in “some other dude’s car, instead of a fucking taxi”, Mark’s own words, I found a version of my boyfriend that I didn’t like one tiny bit: wary, silent and mean. When I asked what his problem was I already saw the answer coming, but I just refused to believe he was going to get all possessive over such a nonsense, he had never behave like that. That night we went from yelling at each other to the silent treatment in a matter of a few hours, and the next day, when I got to the studio in my own car for the first time since the guys knew me, that place looked like goddamn press conference. They took less than two minutes to notice I was a little bit off, and less than five to tell me “Dump him, fuck Duff”. I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t broken up with Mark, we had just argued; I would speak to him and we would fix things; that’s what couples did. Bitch, you thought.
For the next few days everything seemed to have turned back to normal: my boyfriend and I were okay, he said he was sorry and begged me to let him apologize by being my chauffeur again. I didn’t quite feel like rocking the boat after that night, so the idea of not driving myself to work didn’t seem that bad, until the days Mark started arriving a little earlier each day. Five minutes, fifteen, half an hour before my cutoff time, as if he had to make sure I went back home with him, as if he had to keep an eye on me. In fact, one of the days in which he arrived with a bigger margin of time, he decided it was a good idea to wait inside the studio while the band was recording, and argued that “it would be a lot more boring to wait in the car”. Over the last days, the guys had noticed how pissed it made me the fact that he was chasing after me, behaving like an asshole and little more than tying a leash around my neck, so Axl stepped up and asked him to leave, since the guy wouldn’t listen to me. I have to admit I was surprised with how calmly the vocalist took the intrusion, taking into account his normally short temper. He told Mark that “it wasn’t his problem if he wanted to be his girlfriend’s chauffeur, but he couldn’t simply burst into a private property as if it was his house, and even less when they were working.” To be honest, that was one hell of a comeback, because if the singer had exposed the real reasons why he wanted him out, the other one would have clutched at straws to the philosophy “She is my girlfriend, you don’t get a saying on this.” But on his argument and on his turf, Axl had the upper hand.
Despite all the efforts, Mark told him to mind his own business and that, if the redhead kicked him out of the studio, he would be behaving like a total dick. Then, as if the destiny was trying its best to fix things, sarcasm be sensed, Duff showed up in the anteroom where we were. As soon as my boyfriend saw him, his eyes started blazing, and it only took the bassist telling him he had to leave and that I was still in my working hours so I wouldn’t go with him, for his fist to connect with Duff’s jaw in a nasty jab. And hell was fucking raised.
Axl pushed Mark, who was holding my arm with the same hand he had punched the blond with two seconds ago. Not letting go of me, he tackled the vocalist, mumbling something I can’t remember. Then he walked towards the front door, grabbing me with him. “Let’s go. Now”, he ordered. His fingers dug into my skin with such anger and despair that I could already feel the bruise forming underneath, and I was half shocked, half scared shitless. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get in the car with him and I didn’t want any more punches either, but in any case my limbs were not responding to the commands my brain tried to make, whichever they were. It was then that, halfway across the room, before reaching the door, Mark stumbled and fell, finally releasing my arm. The first thing I saw when I lifted my eyes was Duff standing there, with his mouth covered in blood, shaking his right hand once and breathing heavily.
- If you ever touch her again like that, I’ll kill you.
While Mark was trying to get up, Slash stormed in from the recording room. He had seen the events of the last two minutes from his position behind the glass, and he wasn’t going to take any more of that shit. Right before the other one went ballistic attacking the bassist and blood started to hit the fan, Saul grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kicked him, literally, out of the place. Once the metal door had closed between Mark and us, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I vaguely remember I started hyperventilating, on my knees, on the floor, and the sound of punches hitting metal on the outside was all but helping me calm down. As tears streamed down my face and I frantically run my fingers through my hair, a hand started trailing my back. It was a soft touch, slow, really slow. Making its way upwards and then going back down, over again. The noise level had considerably decreased, and now all I could listen to were whispers, the sweetest whispers coming from the mouth of one single person. “Shhhh, easy. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here. Breathe.” Little by little my quick and superficial breathing became steadier, and after a few minutes I was able to stand up to sit on the couch. The beating on the door had stopped, and I realized all the guys were surrounding me, worried look on their faces, as Duff, seating beside me, still had his hand in my back.
_________________
It had been two weeks since that day. After the incident, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be under the same roof as Mark, and even less with the fight still recent. Who knows what he would do to me as soon as I crossed the threshold… The guys profusely insisted that I could stay with any of them, but they let me use their phone to call my best friend when I told them I would be in very good hands with her. Laura received me with a warm hug the moment she saw me, and that night, at her home, we cried, we ranted and we ate ice-cream until we couldn’t take any more. I have to admit that, given the circumstances, she managed pretty well to get me into bed feeling kinda happy. But of course, nothing lasts forever. I was about to graduate, with no home (the foster-bed in Laura’s house didn’t count), no boyfriend and no plans of work, projects or future in general; ahead of me there was a massive precipice with seemingly no ending. Besides, the production process for Appetite was coming to an end, and so did my internship and the months of togetherness with the band. Now was the time for press conferences, concerts and, if it all went well, the tour. To be honest I was super happy for them. I had seen the birth of that album, and I was blindly certain that with such a masterpiece they were bound to success. It was inevitable. But in any case, that meant the end of what had given me the most joys in the last four months and, if apart from all the financial and emotional stability I had gained during my college years, someone took that away from me… what did I have left?
__________________
After that much time hitting the drums, I had ultimately interiorized the beat so much now I was just reproducing it on loop, with my eyes closed and breathing heavily. I was so self-absorbed that I didn’t realize the door had opened and someone had stepped into the studio. Suddenly I felt how, behind my back, two hands softly landed on my shoulders. I didn’t stop playing. My arms moved now with less vigor to the beat I had marked from the beginning, while those fingers gently traced small circles in the back of my neck, comforting me.
Duff.
It had to be him, I was certain.
Little by little I reduced the speed of my movements, gradually, until I completely stopped playing. When I left the drumsticks on the snares and turned around in the stool I saw him. He was standing there, right in front of me, asking with his eyes, a calm and expressive look on his face. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped my lips. He was worried about me.
- Good thing it was you who entered, and not Steven – I said, half jokingly, as I stood up, hoping to relax the tension built up between us.
- Yeah – he laughed softly. – Had it been him he would have ripped the drumsticks off your hands and hit you with them.
I laughed too, quietly, bitterly. This was too much for me. The words we never said were floating around, like a thousand needles falling into a tailspin above us; eventually, they would have to land. The worst part was that I didn’t know if I craved that moment or, on the contrary, dreaded it.
It looked like he had read my mind when he slowly, almost asking for permission, held my hands. I startled a bit with the contact, but I let him go on. Duff looked at them for a second before he noticed the tiny wounds I had unconsciously inflicted on myself digging my fingernails too hard a while before, at the drums. Without saying a word, he started caressing them very softly, as if he wanted to calm, more than my physical pain, the sentimental one. He was breathing deeply and slightly frowning. He was concentrated in trying to make that feeling disappear, the confusion, the guilt, the fear… the stream of emotions that had been threatening to break me for some time now. He looked me in the eyes. In that very moment, the temperature inside the room raised a few degrees. We were really close. So close I could feel his breath on me, listen to his heartbeat accelerating with every second that went by, see how his lips lightly parted, practically not at all, only a hint of the thought that filled our minds in that place, in that moment. Then, almost involuntarily, as an instinctive reflex, I stretched my neck upwards. That was the only sign he needed to make the already scarce distance between our lips disappear, and kiss me.
The contact was slow, sweet and full of longing. Our lips moved rhythmically, perfectly fitting on each other’s. Duff was still holding my hands, and I could feel my breath accelerating progressively. I released one of my hands and placed it on his neck, stroking the hair on his nape and helping myself keep balance in my tippiest toes. He saw my struggles and moved his free hand to my waist, firmly holding me so that I wouldn’t fall. All of a sudden, I felt the urge to be closer to him, even more. Everything that I hadn’t been able to do and that had bottled up inside of me was now too overwhelming, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. Our kiss intensified, we hungrily enjoyed each other, panting. The next thing I knew was that Duff had placed his hands on the back of my thighs and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and leaned my arms on his shoulders, so I could keep kissing him while he crossed the room and sat on the leather couch, with me straddling his lap. He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, slightly lifting the hem of my dress, as if he was testing some boundaries that I hadn’t set and, at this point, I didn’t plan to.
I was euphoric, nervous and loaded with desire. In a burst of braveness or lust, I’m not entirely sure, I started to buck my hips, back and forth, following a slow path at first, which progressively accelerated. The friction of my underwear in direct contact with his leather pants was about to drive me mad, and I couldn’t stop. His hands, which a moment ago were on my hips, guiding them, started moving over my lower stomach, tracing the edge of my panties in painfully slow motions. His breath was also heavier, somehow ragged, and I felt him hardening beneath me. His lips were stuck to the base of my neck, lightly sucking as I, with my eyes closed and lips parted into a silent “O”, gently pulled his blond hair. My core grew more sensitive by the minute, and when I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold the moan trapped in my throat anymore, his fingers touched my most sensitive spot, turning my steadily rocking hips not that steady for a moment.
In a matter of seconds, and with his hand working wonders between my legs, I got rid of the dress, which only bothered, and the perspective of my almost absolute nudity on top of his entirely dressed body made me shake with arousal. His free hand took care of my breasts, now exposed, as I dug my nails into his shoulders, underneath the sleeveless shirt he was wearing.
- Take it off – I managed to blurb between gasps.
- What? – Duff seemed confused, too concentrated on something else for having been able to follow the road of my own thoughts.
- Your shirt, take it off. I want to touch you.
A shit-eating grin lit up his face right before he separated in a quick motion from that piece of clothing and threw it somewhere else. Immediately after, in a total change of the atmosphere, he laid back on the couch and, placing his hands behind his head, said:
- Then touch me.
I didn’t hesitate for a single second. My hands flew to his shoulders, his arms, his shoulders again and went down his chest as I peppered kisses all over his lips, jaw, neck, collarbones… I took my sweet time while swinging my hips against the fabric that separated my pussy from his erection, and my nails traced a descending path down his torso, really slowly. I could notice how he was growing desperate; I felt his breath, now turned into a subtle growl, against my hair; I realized how shortly he had managed to keep his hands off me, since now he was caressing my flanks, my back and my chest. When I reached the cord of his pants with my fingers, I slowly undid the knot that tied them together and slipped my hand underneath, without stopping my hip motions. The very moment I found the base of his length, a soft grunt escaped his lips. He was driving me insane.
After a while arousing each other, we couldn’t stand the teasing any longer and Duff took the first step to getting rid of the clothes that were still around. I stood up and took off my sandals so that he could slide my panties down my legs, grazing my skin along the way. He also let go of both his pants and sneakers, tossing them on the carpet. Our moves were clumsy thanks to eagerness and anticipation. I once again sat on top of him, in our initial position, only now there were no clothes in the middle of the road. I could feel him against me. Touch. Friction. Desire. His expert fingers moved now freely over my core, as he left little love bites under my left ear. I kept on rubbing his cock, fully hard and a bit wet, while, with my other hand, I held on to his hair for dear life. We were close, really close. It felt as if every centimeter of my skin was on direct contact with Duff. He was everywhere, every corner, every goosebump, every scar… With all this overstimulation, my moans filled the room, and I didn’t have enough sanity to realize anyone could come in. I was a mess.All of a sudden, right when I was seconds away from cumming, his hands disappeared from my core. Even though I couldn’t see myself, I was sure in my eyes one would be able to read the anticipation and confusion.
- Wait – he said in a desperate whisper -. I want to feel you, I want to be inside of you.
If he hadn’t stopped touching me a moment before, I am sure that sentence would have sent me to the wildest of orgasms, but it wasn’t the time for my sweet release. Not yet. He put his hand right next to mine, on his cock, and, with an almost unbearable slowness, he brought the tip of it to my entrance. A trembling sigh fell from my lips and we looked into each other’s eyes. Then, I gently let my hips descend on his lap, and he completely slid inside of me, letting escape an unearthly growl that gave me chills. He had dropped his head back, leaving his neck and collarbones exposed to me, but I had my eyes closed as I tried to control the delightful contractions that were about to take over me. I felt him inside of me, extremely deep. As if we were two pieces of the same puzzle, as if we had been manufactured specifically to be together. Now THAT was overstimulation. Once my body had adjusted to him, I started motioning my hips up and down, holding on to his shoulders so that I didn’t lose the limited balance I had left. He once again was looking at me, with his hands on my waist as I kept the path. Close, very close. His arms slid around me and I kissed his lips eagerly. Our moans died in one another’s mouth while the movements became faster, erratic, frenetic. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep my sanity, I was almost raving with pleasure, and the moment our lips broke away to take air and we looked at each other, nose to nose, without stopping for a moment, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I came with a flashing intensity, pronouncing his name countless times, asking God knows who for this moment to last forever. I couldn’t stop screaming, and when Duff begged my name and I felt his liquid warmth filling every bit of me, I saw white.
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His hand stroked tenderly my naked back while my breath came back to normal against his neck. The same as that day, but at the same time entirely different. I was still on top of him, he was still inside of me. I hadn’t yet gathered the strength to pull him apart from me, but he didn’t seem willing to get separated either, so we stood like that for a while, I don’t even know how much, but I don’t care. This felt utterly intimate, intense, extremely ours and totally apart from the rest of people, from the rest of things. It was a parallel universe inside of a crystal ball. It was the embodiment of all that was right. What we had been, without knowing or admitting it, even to ourselves, waiting for all this time.
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Waste Love: Part Seven
Pairing: Colson Baker|Machine Gun Kelly x OFC
Warnings: Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut, Violence, Angst, Fluff
A/N: credit for the bomb ass banner is to best friend @coffee-obsessed-writer Masterlist is now in effect and can be found at the bottom before the tags. This is another short one, I’m sorry :(
“The fuck is that shit, man?” Slim asked accusingly, “You fucking stupid or somethin’?”
“Bro, what the fuck ever,” Colson deflected, brushing him off with a shake of his head, “I’m done with this bullshit.”
Colson turned to pick his phone up from the arm of the couch so he could leave, but was suddenly speared into the furniture, his face instantly smacking into the wall behind the sofa. Pain shot through his face for a split second before relocating to the back of his head, the feeling of fists pounding against his skull overwhelming.
Colson managed to get turned over to face his attacker, Rook. The man was furious, his face red and straining as he fought against Slim and Andre, who were already trying to get him off. When the two larger men finally got a grip on him and started to pull, JP saw the perfect opportunity to lift his leg and kick out, his sneakered foot coming in contact hard with Colson’s face.
The sound of bone crunching was almost vomit-inducing. Colson’s hands instantly covered his face, blood pouring through his fingers and down his arms as he leaned over the arm of the sofa in pain. Rook huffed and strained against the arms leading him towards the door, determined and out for more blood.
“You’re a fucking bitch, Kels. Stay the fuck away from my fucking sister.” Rook spat, attempting to break away from Slim’s grasp as Andre moved to open the door. Slim finally shoved Rook outside into the hallway of the studio, dragging him towards the exit.
Baze threw a towel at Colson, shaking his head in anger before walking out. Andre narrowed his eyes at Colson, watching as the blonde man held the cloth to his nose, his tear-rimmed eyes already swelling.
“You the dumbest nigga I know, you know that?” Andre started, still holding the door open as he pointed at Colson, “You fucked up. Period. Now go to the hospital and get checked out.”
Andre shook his head as he walked out, letting the door close behind him with a loud bang.
Colson knew better than to think that anything in that article was true. He’d seen dozens of other ones with practically the same content and had laughed about them before. Tiffany had even sent him a few and laughed with him. He knew better. He’d caused the one thing he never wanted- an issue with his friends.
--
It had taken months, and they still weren’t completely back to normal yet, but JP forgave Colson eventually. So did everyone else. Except for Tiffany.
She’d packed up almost all of her stuff out of her and Rook’s house and had left literally zero trace of her at Colson’s before climbing into her car and just leaving. It took her two weeks before she’d answer JP’s calls, her brother pissed and angry and worried about her. Their father was the one who made sure JP knew his sister was alright and had told him he’d be sure she’d call him.
Tiffany had moved to New York City from California, the woman wanting to get as far away from Colson or any memories of him as possible.
She’d found a little apartment in a nice neighborhood near Chinatown, the space clear and fresh and hers. She didn’t think she’d enjoy living alone after being her brother’s roommate since his birth, but she realized what she’d been missing that entire time when she didn’t have to trip over his clothes or shoes or left over women every morning.
She’d been working as a freelance makeup artist and photographer, which was actually going a lot better than she’d expected. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t have anything to do with who her past consisted of, but she was okay with that. It was the least the asshole could do, in her opinion.
She was leaned against her kitchen counter waiting on her coffee to brew, one morning, when the sound of Colson’s voice through her phone scared the living shit out of her. ‘Lace Up’ blasted from the speaker, Ashleigh’s name and face flashing across the screen. Scrunching her face in confusion, she swiped the green button, answering the call.
“Bitch, please, please, please tell me you’re not busy today.” The woman begged, her voice sounding frantic and almost on the verge of tears.
“Why?” Tiffany asked back, suspicion lacing her tone. Ashleigh was one of the only people besides her brother she had remained in contact with, and even that was few and far in between. She knew that there would only be a couple of reasons for her to need her.
“Okay, please just don’t say no.” Ash started, obviously shaking from what ever anxiety she was dealing with, “I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t for the fact that we’re literally fucked if you don’t help.”
“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Tiffany inquired, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“I need a photographer.” Ash explained, “We have like fifty grand into this fucking production for this music video for Dubb and Jordan’s photography dude can’t make it or some shit. I might need your help with makeup, too, ‘cuz I haven’t been able to get a hold of her today, either.”
“Colson’s going to be there?” Tiffany guessed.
“Yeah, hence the begging.” She sighed. It was obvious she was desperate. She knew how much Tiffany was hurt by what happened and was just as pissed at Colson, but she’d promised Dubb that she’d get everything taken care of.
“I don’t know, Ash…” Tiffany replied, wanting to be able to help her friend but not wanting to have to see him.
“Look, I’ll keep him as far away from you as humanly possible, okay? Pleaseeee, Tiff. I’ll even pay you.”
After a few more minutes of begging, Tiffany finally caved. She got the info on the location and set about getting everything together, anxiety and dread filling the pit of her stomach. She’d thought she’d put all of this behind her, but here she was, one call throwing her all back in it.
She was grateful that Colson hadn’t arrived yet when she got there. Ash met her in the lobby of the studio they were using for the shoot and ushered her in to show her where she would be setting everything up, Jordan giving her a huge smile and a big hug when he spotted her.
“Thank you so much for the help, Tiff, like, seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.” The man told her, squeezing her shoulders again as he lead her towards a group of girls who were to be the models, “If you wanna start on makeup first that’d be awesome. I won’t need you for any of the photographs until a little bit later on today.”
“Sounds good,” She said with a smile, waving to the girls as he introduced her.
Tiffany was in the finishing up doing one of the girls’ faces when she heard his voice. Well, his laugh, actually. It echoed through the open space, and Tiffany couldn’t help but turn her head in the direction of it. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him, nerves pitting deeper as she watched him turn in her direction. He hadn’t noticed her yet, his phone in his hand serving as a distraction.
Colson’s cerulean gaze met hers from across the room when he looked up, a shocked expression crossing his face as he stopped in his tracks. Ash caught him as he started to head towards Tiff, distracting him from her and leading him away as quickly as she could.
Shaking her head, Tiffany turned back to her client. The girl eyed her suspiciously, her gaze moving from Colson to Tiff, and asked, “Aren’t you that girl he used to date?”
Tiffany’s mouth opened and closed in surprise, her eyes widening, “Um…”
Her reply was interrupted by Jordan coming up and whisking her away before she could answer, and Tiffany was mentally thanking him a thousand times. Another girl sat in her chair instantly, the ebony-skinned woman already looking irritated.
“Hello, I’m Tiffany. How’re you today?” Tiffany smiled politely, brushing the woman’s hair out of her face gently.
“Just don’t poke me in the eye, alright?” The woman huffed, cocking an eyebrow as she raked her eyes down Tiffany’s frame, judging Tiffany’s dirty Chucks and bare face, “You better know what you’re doing.”
Cocking a haughty eyebrow of her own, Tiffany took a step back, “Excuse me?”
“Did I stutter? You poke me or hurt me in any way and I’mma stomp your ass.” The woman threatened, rolling her eyes, “Everytime I let a white bitch do my makeup, they fuck my shit up.”
Tiffany was about to spit back at the woman, anger seeping through her when Colson seemingly came out of nowhere to her defense, his eyes narrowed and serious as he pointed at the woman, “The fuck you just say, bitch?”
“Who the fuck-” The woman began, but was cut off.
“Nah, fuck that. Aye, yo, Dubb, this one’s gotta go.” Colson shouted, pointing down to the woman in the chair as Tiffany stood there, “I don’ like her attitude.”
“Nigga, fuck you,” The model spat, standing up and getting into Colson’s personal space, “Who the fuck you think you are?”
“I’m the dude who’s paying you to be on your knees and shakin’ your ass, bitch.” Colson rebutted proudly, a humiliating smile being thrown at the girl, “And I’m the dude who just fired your skeevy ass.”
“It’s fine, Kels, don’t worry about it,” Tiffany promised, gesturing that it wasn’t a big deal, “It’s nothing.”
“The fuck it is. Ain’t no hoe talk about my girl that way,” Colson replied, not looking away from the model as he spoke, pointing towards the door, “Now get the fuck out.”
“Best do what he says, girl!” Dubb could be heard shouting from across the room somewhere. The woman huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, rounding on Tiffany, who was leaning against the counter behind her. Tiff raised her eyebrows and shrugged nonchalantly, not about to defend her or try to keep her there.
“You good?” Colson asked once the girl had stomped off, his voice low and avoiding eye contact.
Tiffany nodded, swallowing thickly against the lump in her throat as she looked away.
“Bitch was fuckin’ stupid.” Colson commented, shaking his head.
“Thanks, Kels.” Tiffany replied, turning her face to finally look at him, the guardedness in her eyes unmistakable, “I can take care of myself, though.”
“I know. Just didn’t like what I was hearing.” He shrugged, looking down at his shoes as he mumbled, “It’s good to see you, Tiff.”
“Yeah.” She returned blankly, her eyes flicking to Ash as she yelled for him.
“Yeah,” Colson replied, nodding his head to Ash in recognition before finally meeting Tiffany’s hazel irises, “You think we can talk later?”
Tiffany sighed, afraid that this would happen. She knew what he’d say, how he’d apologize, how she wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him. She’d been hoping that he would just ignore her, but she knew better.
“Maybe. I’ll let you know before I leave.” Tiffany responded, hearing Ash call for him again. Colson let a small smile slip for her as he nodded, seeming to be happy with her answer for now as he walked away.
The rest of the shoot went without too many hiccups, and Tiffany was able to get hundreds of shots that Jordan loved. She was packing the last of her things in her bags when she felt him walk up behind her, the indescribable energy that was colson instantly recognizable.
“Thanks for all the help today, Tiff. Seriously.” He stated, leaning against the counter beside her with a joint between his fingers.
Tiffany looked up to him with a soft smile, nodding her head while she zipped up the suitcase, “Always.”
The tension was obvious between them as she rose to her feet, awkwardly standing there while waiting on him to say something else. He held the joint out for her and she took it, bringing the cone to her lips and inhaling deeply, hoping it would help calm her nerves.
“You busy tonight?” Colson finally asked, taking the spliff back from her as she exhaled the thick smoke.
“Um, not that I know of.” She shrugged.
“You wanna go get a drink or somethin’ later?”
Biting her lip in hesitation, Tiffany shrugged again before meeting his crystalline gaze, “I mean, I guess.”
Instantly taking any answer that wasn’t ‘no,’ Colson’s smile beamed at her as he passed the joint back, “I can pick you up once I finish with this interview I gotta go to. Bring by something to smoke before hand.”
“Okay,” She replied, still unsure but deciding to at least be grown enough to hear what he had to say, “I’ll text you my address.”
“Cool,” Colson responded as Ash hollered that it was time for them to go, “I’ll see you later, Tiff.”
He leaned in hesitantly, holding his arm out for permission for a hug. She smirked at him but obliged, letting his arms envelope her in his warmth and scent. She couldn’t help but squeeze him a little, letting herself soak in his embrace for a moment before pulling away. He gave her another gentle smile accompanied with a wink before heading in the direction of where Ashleigh was screaming for him again.
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Tags: @abbysdogcollar @coffee-obsessed-writer @through-thesilver-lining @daryldixonandfrogs @buckyscrystalqueen @mgkobsessed@iamdorka @creatureofthen1ght-v3 @xxencagedxx@xxkellsvixen19xx @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk
#olson baker imagine#colson baker x ofc#machine gunkelly imagine#machine gun kelly x ofc#mgk imagine#mgk x ofc#colson baker fanfiction#colson baker#machine gun kelly#mgk
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Q&A: Ronnie Radke Talks ‘The Drug In Me Is You’ Going Gold, Touring With Escape The Fate & The Future Of Falling In Reverse
In the ten-plus years since the start of hard rock outfit Falling In Reverse, larger-than-life frontman Ronnie Radke has seen various levels of success -- one of them being the recent news of his band’s debut album The Drug In Me Is You selling over 500,000 copies and becoming gold certified by the RIAA.
In celebration of this news, Radke and Co. have decided to embark on a full US headliner playing their beloved 2011 record from front to back. To make matters even more special, Falling In Reverse has invited The Word Alive as well as Radke’s former band, Escape The Fate, to play alongside them on the Noise Presents The Drug In Me Is Gold Tour.
With just a few days to go until the highly anticipated trek kicks off, as you can probably imagine, the charismatic vocalist has a lot of feelings heading into the upcoming tour.
“It's super ironic that I'm bringing Escape The Fate on tour because [The Drug In Me Is You] was me singing about how angry I am at them and they're coming on this tour to celebrate the record that I was talking shit about them,” Radke explains. “So we're all just gonna laugh about it, you know?”
Radke later went on to say there’s no ill will between the two scene staples stating, “I never really hold grudges for too long even though that was like a huge deal in my life that they kind of turned their backs on me and kind of bad-mouthed me while I was in jail and stuff. But like, I'm not a guy that holds grudges for too long. I mean, that was the longest grudge I ever held, you know? But over the years, it kind of just disappeared. I've known most of the guys since high school. So it's almost like an unconditional love kind of thing.”
For more from Radke, including the Drug In Me Is You song that was the most challenging to relearn, as well as what the future holds for Falling In Reverse, be sure to read our in-depth Q&A below. Afterward, if you haven’t already, make sure to grab tickets to see Falling In Reverse, Escape The Fate and The Word Alive out on tour here.
The Drug In Me Is You going gold is obviously an incredibly huge accomplishment. What does it mean to you personally?
RONNIE RADKE: I mean, in this day and age, it's such a big deal to me. I mean, I have another [record] that's going gold -- it's pretty close so that'd be a total of a million sales. So for a band that's like a Warped Tour scene band, like generalized as that, it's a pretty big deal because I look at all my peers and I try to see if anybody else has actually had a full record go gold and it's pretty rare. So it's a huge accomplishment for me, for sure. Especially, because it's an entire record and not just a single like most of these bands. Like the successful bands will [usually] get a gold single or two but not the entire record. That's crazy to me.
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Looking back on the record nine years after its release, what stands out the most to you about it now?
How stupid some of the lyrics are [laughs]. Straight up. I mean, not stupid. I guess I was young, you know. So I guess it was growing as an artist and becoming more self-aware and stuff like that -- singing old lyrics about like, you know, how angry I am at somebody. It's just funny, actually. We laugh at rehearsal. We're like, “Can you believe I said this!?” And we just laugh.
You're getting ready to play The Drug In Me Is You in full out on tour. Are there any songs you’re most excited to bring back and play live?
Yeah. It's super ironic that I'm bringing Escape The Fate on tour because that record was me singing about how angry I am at them and they're coming on this tour to celebrate the record that I was talking shit about them. So we're all just gonna laugh about it, you know? But um, it'll probably be like “Tragic Magic” because that's a song that's like, completely directed at Craig Mabbitt. I might even have him come sing on it or something just to be funny.
That has to be pretty special to get to celebrate this accomplishment with Escape The Fate. Is it nice looking back and thinking how much you've progressed as a person to be able to put all that stuff in the past?
Yeah, I never really hold grudges for too long even though that was like a huge deal in my life that they kind of turned their backs on me and kind of bad-mouthed me while I was in jail and stuff. But like, I'm not a guy that holds grudges for too long. I mean, that was the longest grudge I ever held, you know? But over the years, it kind of just disappeared. I've known most of the guys since high school. So it's almost like an unconditional love kind of thing.
Yeah, and looking at all the recent events with Kobe Byrant thinking about his feud with Shaquille O’Neal and now Shaq is totally willing to let all that go... like, it’s 2020. Time to let those beefs go.
100%. Yeah, we've been cool for a long time. Like, it's been years. Some people on Twitter still think we don't like each other. It just blows my mind because there's like pictures of us hanging out. We tweet at each other, we follow each other. It just blows my mind sometimes.
So back to The Drug In Me Is You. Was there a song that was challenging to relearn at all?
So funny you're saying this because yes. Yes, I was stressed actually. Super stressed because of a song called “Don't Mess With Ouija Boards,” which is literally the dumbest song. I just think it's so funny because it's like the lyrics are so dumb to me. They're cool for a scene band but they're just, you know, I don't know. It's like that cringy kinda look back when you had that emo haircut. Did you ever have an emo haircut?
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Sadly, no. I was close with long hair though.
So you never look back and like cringe at old photos of you with long hair or anything like that?
I think I used to rep a bandana at one point so now I’m like, “Hmm probably not the best look.” So yeah, definitely cringeworthy.
[Laughs] Yeah. So pretty much those ["Don't Mess With Ouija Boards"] lyrics are really funny. We've never played that song live at all. Like, not one time in the entire history of the band. So people are looking forward to me playing that song the most. And that song's like four different tempos. Like it shifts between four different tempos so we have to put these cues in the tracks where we have to slow down drastically and then speed up drastically. So that was a bit challenging. I didn't realize how challenging it would be but we got it now.
As for Escape The Fate’s set on this upcoming tour, we imagine they might play songs off Dying Is Your Latest Fashion. If so, would you want to join them on stage at all?
If they play Dying Is Your Latest Fashion?
Yeah, if they play songs off that record.
No way, that’d be dumb if they did that. I really hope they’re not going to do that.
So you haven’t had any conversations with them regarding those songs?
The reason I say that is because if they played Dying Is Your Lastest Fashion, there's pretty much no original members in Escape the Fate. So they'd literally just be covering me before I go on stage. I was going to do it though and then I would bring a couple of their members out on stage with me -- which would make more sense. It would actually be hilarious if they performed my songs before I went on stage. So who knows [laughs].
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[Laughs] Maybe they can warm the crowd up first to get people ready then you do it second and everyone would be happy.
That would be sooo funny. That'd be so awkward but that'd be funny.
Definitely. So lastly, as you look ahead seeing the success of singles like “Popular Monster” and “Drugs,” what excites you most about the future of Falling In Reverse?
Just the day-to-day kind of thing [where] you just never know what's going to happen next I guess. Like that's what I love about being able to be in that position now. Because a lot of bands, you kind of got to have growing pains in order for people to look at you that way. Like, the “you never know what you're going to get” kind of thing instead of like, “We know what's going to happen with this band. When they put out their next record, it's gonna sound like this.” I would much rather it be like, "What is he going to put out next? It could be anything.” Instead of like, you know, the same old same old kind of thing that you're expecting. So you just never know. I mean, it could be like a fucking jazz song, I guess, or a country song. Who knows.
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Do you see yourself continuing to go the single route for the next few, maybe months or so?
Yep! For a long time, yeah. It's so funny because a couple other big bands like big, big bands -- I won't name their names -- but like I heard them saying “We're gonna go the single route.” I was like, “That's so funny because I'm doing that and no one ever talks about me doing anything.” They're just like, “I'm the one that's doing it.” You know? I guess I just don't really talk about doing it I just kind of do it and not really say anything about it.
Well, guess this is your opportunity then. You’re going to do some singles for a while and see how that goes?
Yeah, I started the singles with “Losing My Mind.” I don't know even how long... has it been two years? A year and a half? Something like that. And then I just kind of connected all the songs and videos together and then the next one and then the next one and then the next one. I feel like I've just honed in more because we're an ADD nation. All we do is look at our phones all day and we get everything instantaneously [and we get] instant gratification by clicking on things. Songs are getting shorter because people's attention spans are getting shorter. So why would you release a full album when you can just hone in on one song and drop that every three months with a music video? That way the viewer is satisfied and their ears are satisfied at the same time -- like sensory overload -- and everything is focused on one thing. And then three months later, it happens again. So [that’s the plan] instead of giving somebody an album where they like three or four songs and they don't listen to the rest of the album. It's just what's happening nowadays, you know?
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kl-writes
Back to the trees!
heatherxandxhollyxberries
hoping someday i will breathe again