#Electric Counterpoint

[thekingofgear]

Thom's Heavily Modified Tele (Tele3) Reappears in the hands of Noah Yorke

Two photos by Baxter Adams of Noah Yorke with the guitar at the Shacklewell Arms on January 21, 2023 (ny.wav). Thanks to Andrew for bringing this post to our attention!

In late-2022 and early-2023, Noah Yorke used a heavily modified Fender Telecaster for performances with the band Hex Girlfriend. The guitar is the very same Telecaster that Noah's father, Thom, used with the band Radiohead during their OK Computer tour in 1997-1998. Thom played it on more aggressive tracks from that era such as Electioneering and The Trickster.

Although Thom only used the guitar as a backup on tour in early-2000s, the instrument went through some further mods — most notably a refinish with a thin black paint. It looks as though Thom subsequently carved some words and peace signs into the paint, including the word "black" beside the control plate.

After Radiohead's 2004 tour, the guitar went unseen for a decade. It next appeared at a London Contemporary Orchestra concert in Budapest in 2015, when Jonny used it to play Steve Reich's Electric Counterpoint. Since then, the guitar once again disappeared for nearly a decade. Though the guitar may also be the "black tele" listed in Jonny's recording notes for Electric Counterpoint in June 2014 (vine).

Hex Girlfriend has shared photos from two shows where the guitar is visible: first at Sebright Arms on Nov 6, 2022, and later at the Shacklewell Arms on Jan 21, 2023. The guitar is also visible in what appears to be a rehearsal photo in Dec 2022, likely meant to promote the then-upcoming Shacklewell arms show. It can be seen in footage from two more shows as well: footage from a show in at MOTH Club on July 22, 2023, and footage from from a show at The Moon on The Moon on Oct 22, 2023. The guitar is now covered in stickers, including a "ram's head" sticker from Electro-Harmonix.

Left: a photo by Estie Joy of Noah Yorke with the guitar at the Sebright Arms on November 6, 2022 (ny.wav). Right: a photo, likely from a rehearsal, showing the guitar (ny.wav).

The guitar still has the simple wiring that Thom favored in the 90s, with the tone control removed and replaced by a relocated output jack. The original select switch seems to have been replaced by a smaller toggle switch. Also note that the neck humbucker has the screws on the "bridge" side, rather than the traditional orientation with the screws on the "neck" side. This is just cosmetic, the orientation makes no difference in sound (you'd need to adjust the wiring or the magnet to actually reverse the phase).

Left: a shot of Thom with the guitar at the Hammerstein Ballroom on Dec 19, 1997, pointing to a fan just before the band played Electioneering (youtube). Right: a photo of Jonny playing the guitar at a solo show with the London Contemporary Orchestra in Budapest on Oct 17, 2015.

Note the wear (cigarette burns?) on the guitar's Strat-style neck, particularly between the nut and the first fret. The burns are present even in the earliest photos of the guitar, when it still had a single coil bridge pickup.

One can only wonder what transformations the guitar will go through before it appears again (presumably in another decade)!

[greenwoodsister]

jonny last night with the hallé orchestra, playing electric counterpoint

[nonesuchrecords]

It was 35 years ago today: the first recording of Steve Reich's Different Trains and Electric Counterpoint, performed by Kronos Quartet and Pat Metheny, respectively, was released on Nonesuch. You can hear it and get it on vinyl here.

“A work of such originality that ‘breakthrough’ seems the only possible description," the New York Times exclaimed of Different Trains, which went on to win the Grammy Award for Best Contemporary Composition. Pitchfork named the record one of the 200 Best Albums of the 1980s.

[graph100]

absolutely obsessed w electric counterpoint rn

[inuvik]

Electric Counterpoint: III. Fast / Steve Reich (2014)

[twotailednekomata]

Random ass question: How does Luz charge her phone?

[httpswritings]

the sweetest symphony

alexia putellas x reader; this story is +18.

The Barcelona night pulsated with a rhythmic hum, a symphony of honking taxis and distant laughter that usually lulled Alexia into a peaceful sleep. Tonight, however, the city's vibrant melody was a cruel counterpoint to the hollowness beside her. You were gone, swallowed by a business trip and a time difference that felt like an ocean separating you. Days, it felt like a lifetime.

The king-sized bed, usually a haven of shared warmth and tangled limbs, felt like a vast, uncharted territory. Alexia, the woman who commanded stadiums and dictated the pace of the game, felt utterly adrift without your anchor. She was a creature of touch, thriving on the unspoken language of intertwined fingers and playful nudges against her side. The silence in the apartment was suffocating, broken only by the relentless tick of the clock on the nightstand mocking her with its cruel 3:14 AM display.

She tossed and turned, the sheets cool and impersonal. Her mind, usually laser-focused on the upcoming season's strategies, drifted down a familiar path. Memories of nights spent entangled in your embrace filled her head like a silent movie. You, sprawled contentedly over her, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that earned you the endearing nickname "koala" for your unwavering adherence to her side.

But tonight, the memory morphed, taking a more heated turn. A slow grind against her thigh, deliberate and calculated, sent a familiar jolt of electricity through her. The whisper of your lips against her neck, a brand that ignited a fire in her core, left her skin tingling with the phantom touch. Her hand, drawn by an insatiable need, found its way south.

"Yeah, amor, right there," she murmured into the empty space, the words echoing hollowly in the vast expanse of the bed. You always praised her, those words a sweet nectar that heightened her pleasure during your intimate moments. A small smile played on her lips. It had been one of your greatest triumphs, chipping away at the wall of control she'd built so meticulously around herself. Learning to be vulnerable, to let you see her deepest desires, had been a revelation.

The thought of your hands taking over, exploring her with a knowing touch, sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice husky and urgent. You knew exactly where to find her sweet spots, your touch a map etched into her memory. Her voice, usually strong and composed even in the throes of competition, became a desperate plea, the vulnerability exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

The room grew thick with heat, the air thick with her increasingly ragged breaths. Her hair, escaping its secure braid, became a halo of damp curls clinging to her forehead. Her moans, a melody you'd once described as "the sweetest symphony," echoed off the silent walls, an arousing counterpoint to the city's lullaby.

As the climax surged through her, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, it was followed by a crushing wave of loneliness. She curled onto your side of the bed, burying her face in the pillow that still held a faint trace of your cologne. It wasn't the same. It was a pale imitation of the real thing, a cruel reminder of the warmth and comfort you brought.

Exhaustion eventually claimed her, sleep a welcome thief stealing her away from the emptiness. But the battle with the lonesome sheets would continue until your return. In her dreams, though, you'd be there, close and warm, erasing the ache of your absence. The wait would be long, but the memory of your touch, the echo of your voice whispering sweet nothings, would serve as a beacon. A promise of the passionate reunion that awaited you both, a reminder of the connection that transcended the miles and the cold, impersonal sheets.

[seoulzie]

the final argument

WHEREIN: sparks fly (and mouths collide) as two rival debate captains finally give in to the undeniable tension simmering beneath the surface of their intellectual battles.

彡 pairing: rival!gyu x f!reader 彡 genre: smut 彡 warnings: making out, very suggestive, fingering, degrading, power dynamics, profanity & foul language

the auditorium buzzed with anticipation as the two debate teams squared off. on one side was beomgyu, the confident and sharp-witted captain. on the other was you, the equally formidable leader of your team. the rivalry between you was intense, each debate a fierce battle of wits. but tonight, beomgyu found it harder than ever to focus on the arguments. his mind was consumed by thoughts of you.

as you delivered your opening statement, beomgyu's eyes were drawn to the way you moved, the way your expression changed with each point. your voice was clear and authoritative, each word a challenge that made his heart race and his thoughts scatter.

he was supposed to be thinking about your argument, about finding holes in your logic. but all he could focus on was the way your lips glistened with the gloss you had applied, how they moved so enticingly when you spoke. he found himself wondering what it would be like to feel those lips wrapped around his—focus, damn it, he scolded himself, tearing his gaze away from you for a moment.

when it was his turn to speak, he stood up, trying to channel his usual confidence. as he delivered his rebuttal, he couldn't help but notice the way you watched him, the way your eyes followed his every move. the tension between you was almost unbearable, a magnetic pull that made it hard to concentrate on anything but you.

as the debate continued, the tension between you only grew. each counterargument and each rebuttal crackled with a thick tension that hung heavy in the air. the audience was captivated, but for beomgyu, it was like a private battle, one that was about more than just winning the debate.

finally, the debate concluded, the applause from the audience a distant echo in beomgyu's ears. as the teams began to disperse, he found himself making a beeline for you, his heart pounding in his chest. he needed to talk to you.

backstage, the clatter of folding chairs and hushed goodbyes provided a muted counterpoint to the roar of the crowd still filtering in. he pushed through a curtain, the sudden darkness momentarily disorienting. there you were, bathed in the soft glow of a single bulb, fiddling with your notes. relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a surge of urgency.

"you were incredible up there," he said, his voice low and intense as he approached you. "but i still think you missed something important."

you rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "of course you do. and what, pray tell, did i miss?"

"the fact that your entire argument was weak," he replied, stepping closer, his gaze locked on yours. "how can you possibly believe that your points had any substance?"

you crossed your arms, glaring at him. "really? you think you did any better? your points were practically laughable."

beomgyu's eyes narrowed. "laughable? at least i didn't rely on emotional appeals to make up for a lack of evidence."

"oh, so now you're accusing me of being emotional?" you shot back, stepping closer. the space between you was charged with tension, both of you breathing heavily from the exchange.

"yes, i am," beomgyu retorted, his voice dropping to a murmur. "and every time i see you up on that stage making those stupid-ass rebuttals, all i can think about is how much i want to shut you up with my mouth."

"then do it," you countered, a challenge ringing clear in your voice.

in a heartbeat, you were on each other. beomgyu grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a secluded corner backstage. the moment you were alone, the air between you crackled with electricity. he didn't waste a second, pressing you against the wall and capturing your lips with his in a desperate kiss.

the kiss was fierce, a meeting of frustration and unspoken promises, a battle line drawn with hungry lips. his lips moved against yours with a vigour that left you breathless, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. 

"you really think you can talk to me like that?" you gasped between kisses, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"shut up," he growled, biting your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. "you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

you moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth on yours.  

beomgyu's tongue slid against yours, goosebumps erupting along your arms like a constellation charting a path of craving.his hands roamed down your back, gripping your waist as he pressed himself closer to you. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath hot against your lips as he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth with a hunger that made you weak in the knees.

"god, you're infuriating," you muttered, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"right back at you," he replied, his voice husky. "but i can't stop thinking about how good you look up there, even when you're spouting bullshit."

you smirked against his lips, your hands moving to tug at his hair. "at least i have something worth saying. unlike your half-baked arguments."

"half-baked?" beomgyu laughed darkly, his hand sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer. "i could dismantle your points in my sleep."

"too bad you're not as good in debates as you are at talking shit," you shot back, your body arching against his.

"keep talking," he challenged, his voice low and dangerous. "see where it gets you."

he kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue delving into your mouth with a desperation that left your senses reeling. his hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips, pulling you impossibly closer. you responded with equal intensity, your hands slipping under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

"you think you can handle this?" he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

"i can handle anything you throw at me," you shot back, your breath hitching as his hand slid up your thigh.

"good," he growled, his teeth grazing your neck as he kissed his way down to your collarbone. "because i'm not stopping until you admit i won."

"in your dreams," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he nipped at your skin.

"we'll see about that," he muttered, his lips returning to yours in a searing kiss that threatened to drown your senses in a sea of pleasure. you clung to him, your bodies pressed together in a heated embrace,the unspoken yearning that had simmered between you finally ignited, exploding in a cascade of kisses.

beomgyu's lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. you arched into him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. he groaned against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

"you're such a fucking tease," he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your collarbone, leaving blooming bruises, each one a searing brand claiming you as his

"you love it," you shot back, your voice breathless. "admit it."

"maybe i do," he rasped, his hands moving lower to slip under your skirt. his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "but now it's my turn."

with one swift motion, he pushed your panties aside and slipped a finger inside you, making you gasp. he smirked against your neck, adding another finger and curling them inside you, his thumb brushing against your clit. the sensation was overwhelming, a shiver ripped through you, a soft moan escaping your lips as your fingers dug into his back.

"fuck, beomgyu," you panted, your hips bucking against his hand.

he chuckled, "what's the matter? can't handle a little teasing?"

you glared at him, your breath hitching as he increased the pressure on your clit. "you're such an asshole."

"maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "but you like it, don't you? you like how i make you feel."

you couldn't deny it. the way he touched you, the way he made you feel, was intoxicating. your body arched into his, your moans filling the small, secluded space. his fingers moved faster, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"come on," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "let go. i want to feel you come undone."

with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your body convulsing with intensity. you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of ecstasy washed over you. beomgyu held you through it, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a trembling, breathless mess in his arms.

when you finally came down from your high, he pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean. 

"this doesn't mean you won," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes.

beomgyu chuckled, his breath warm against your lips. "maybe not, but i think we both came out on top."

you laughed, the sound mingling with his, as you shared one last kiss that sealed the deal—realizing that perhaps your rivalry had just transformed into something far more interesting.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman , @beombeomlovesme ⤷ want to get notified? click here!

© 2024 seoulzie

[somanyjacks]

Calling my neurospicy/ADHD/autistic siblings with a question:

How do you walk for fun/exercise?

Personally, I've realized that I actually hate walking? For decades I've been trying to force myself to enjoy going for a quick walk around the block because every piece of advice about physical and mental health says "just go for a walk 😊 it's fun and relaxing 😊 anyone can do it 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊"

BUT IT IS NEITHER FUN NOR RELAXING??!?

I present to you the following:

Every window you walk past has the potential for one or more sets of eyes. EYES THAT COULD BE PERCEIVING YOU.*

Hot. Cold. Rain. Wind. Allergies. Insects. INSECTS THAT FOLLOW YOU (fucking horseflies ugh)

Choices must be made. What clothes to wear? No you can't wear the shorts you're wearing because the thighs ride up. Go change. A hat?? Hats look dumb but counterpoint: sun is murdering your eyes. And shoes?!? WHICH SOCKS ARE RIGHT AND PREVENT BLISTERS BUT AREN'T TOO HOT ANSWER ME THIS

Chronic pain????????????

Okay I'm walking, I'm walking, look at the pavement, don't trip over that drainage grate, don't stumble on the loose gravel, god this is so freaking boring ah shit I rolled my ankle on the pavement did anyone see?? Why didn't I wear headphones but headphones are bad because I'm supposed to be enjoying nature™ and if I wear them I can't hear electric cars and I might get in an accident SHIT I rolled my ankle AGAIN

SO HOW DO YOU DO IT??? Are there tips and tricks? Do you just... not walk? Use a treadmill?? How do you make the treadmill not soul-suckingly boring????

(PLEASE no neurotypicals clowning on this post with any "advice" -- your statements have already been noted and accepted into the record. Autistic/ADHD rebuttals are what is being sought here thanks.)

*Do NOT give me that 'no one is looking at you' BS -- YES THEY ARE. I know this because I watch people walking by, and so does my mom and half the neighborhood.

[chgridlock]

Fine. -LN (series 1)

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends, Lando being a dick sometimes.

The buzz of conversation faded as you and your friends spilled out of the charming restaurant, the balmy Monaco air thick with the promise of night on the town. But as if on cure, the heavens decided to throw a tantrum, unleashing a deluge that turned the cobblestones slick in seconds. You sprinted for cover, laughter turning into frantic dashes, your dress clinging uncomfortably top your form.

Suddenly, a sleek car roared to a stop beside you, the engine a low growl in the symphony of the storm. The window glided down, revealing Lando Norris.

“Not him…” whispered y/n, a flicker of something crossing your features. Was it annoyance? Disappointment? The answer remained stubbornly hidden, even to you.

“Get in.” He rumbled, his voice usually laced with a playful arrogance, was now a husky command that sent a shiver down your spine despite the chilling rain. It was a sound that resonated deep within you, a primal echo from a past you both desperately tried to forget.

You met his gaze, his blue grey eyes, your own sparkling with defiance. The history you shared, a tapestry woven with laughter and heartbreak, crackled in the air between you. Years might have passed, but the spark, once ignited, refused to be extinguished.

“Get. In. Now.” His jaw clenched, the flicker in his eyes replaced by a determined glint. The tension thrummed in the air, a tangible force threatening to erupt.

“Don’t even think I’m going with you” you retorted, your voice a husky counterpoint to his. The word tumbled out, laced with a challenge that both of you understood.

He kept the car door open, a silent invitation that hung heavy in the rain-soaked air. “Get in the damn car…” His voice was even sterner and firmer than before, a hint of exasperation creeping in. But beneath the gruff exterior, you saw a flicker of something else - concern, maybe?

“I’m not waiting all my time waiting here in the rain just because you are too stubborn to get a nice, dry car.”

“Then leave I didn’t ask for help”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes in a way that used to drive you crazy, and maybe still did, a traitorous part of you admitted. “You think I’m leaving you here in the rain, all alone? Don’t be unreasonable…” His voice softened slightly, a hint of his old charm peeking through.

But you held firm. Unreasonable? Maybe. He surprised you then. With a sigh of exasperation, he rolled his eyes again and climbed out of the car. Standing beside you, his presence was a stark contrast to the chaos of the storm, a reminded of a time when you were a team, facing whatever came your way together. His curly hair now dripped with rainwater, mirroring the way your mascara was running down your cheeks.

“You wil get sick if you don’t get in.” He said, his voice softer now, almost pleasing, “Just admit that you’re stubborn and get in the car” The playful arrogance was gone, replaced by a weary concern that tugged at something deep within you.

You scoffed, annoyance lacing your voice. “You’re stopping traffic” it was a weak retort, even you knew that. The truth was, you were enjoying this strange standoff, the unspoken electricity crackling between you.

The rain continued its relentless assault, drumming a monotonous rhythm on the pavement. You stood there, defiant, a shiver wracking your body despite the heat of your anger.

Lando sighed, a sound of exasperation tinged with something else, something you couldn’t quite place. “Yes, i am,” he admitted “because you refuse to get into the damn car. Just get in already, or would you rather get a sore throat and spend the next week miserable?”

His words were laced with a hint of exasperation, but there was also a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like worry in his eyes.

You hated him. Hated the way he could still make your pulse race, the way his voice send shivers down you spine even after all this time. Hated the way he could so easily see through you carefully constructed walls.

“I hate you” you muttered, the words a pathetic attempt to mask the fluttering in your stomach.

But even to your own ear, they sounded hollow. The defiance had seeped out, replaced by a strange sense of yearning

Sliding into the car, you sank gratefully into the cool leather seats, a stark contrast to the dampness that had clung to you. A wave of relief washed over you, a relief you were loathe to admit.

He lets out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing your own unspoken feeling. Looking visibly relieved, he mumbled a single word.

“Finally…”

He closed the car door with a soft thud, the sound like a punctuation mark at the end of this bizarre encounter. He slid behind the wheel, the engine humming to life as he pulled back into the traffic. The rhythmic swish of the piers was the only sound that broke the tense silence.

“That was so pointless and unnecessary, you know..” he began, is voice laced with a hint of amusement.

“I didn’t need your help” you lied, knowing deep down you should be grateful. But admitting that would be like surrendering, and you weren’t quite ready to do that yet.

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “We’re not discussing this right now. Just be glad that I’m where and took care of your stubborn ass”

Saray sighed and roller her eyes, a silent battle of wills taking place. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a storm brewing witching the car that mirrored the one raging outside.

He glanced at you sideways, his jaw clenched tight “Are you really going to act like this?” He asked, his voice with a hint of desperation “I just saved you from catching a chill or a fever. You should maybe be thanking me instead”

You gritted your teeth, the lie burning a hole in your stomach. “I didn’t need your help,” you muttered, defiance coloring your voice “i only get in the car cause you were stopping traffic”

The guilt gnawed at you, a persistent ache that refused to be ignored. He’d been right, and you hated admitting it, especially to him, but he was not the Lando that you used to know.

“Do you have any idea how childish you sound?” He sighed, a heavy exhale that spoke volumes of his frustration. “You know what, whatever,” he conceded, throwing his hands up in a gesture of defeat. “I’m not going to deal with this right now. Just shut up and don’t start a discussion.”

His words stung, a harsh reminder of the distance that had grown between you. You narrowed your eyes at him, disappointment flickering in their depths. He scoffed, clearly exasperated, and turned his focus back to the road, the rain-streaked windshield blurring his view of the city lights.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the relentless drumming of the rain on the car roof, a monotonous rhythm that mirrored the beat of your own heart.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating quiet any longer, you decided to push your luck. “What if I don’t want to shut up?” Clearly annoyed.

He whipped his head towards you, his eyes flashing annoyance too. “What part of ‘shut up’ you don’t understand?” He snapped. “Or do i have to explain it to you like you’re a little kid?”

His anger was a flicker of heat in the cold air, and a reckless part of you wanted to fan the flames. “You’re the childish one here,” you retorted, your voice laced with a teasing edge. “Throwing a tantrum just because I won’t-“

He cut you off with a glare that could curdle milk “Are you trying to provoke me?” He growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a tremor through you. The playful banter had taken a sharp turn, the air thick with unspoken tension. He glanced at you again, his gaze a stormy mix of irritation and something deeper, something you couldn’t decipher. A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying the simmering tension beneath the surface.

“I warned you. One more word and I’m dropping you off here and let you walk home” It wasn’t a thread, it was a promise, late with a steely resolve that caught you off guard.

You opened your mouth to retort, a sharp comeback teetering on your tongue. But something held you back…

“Stop the car.” The words tumbled out.

He scoffed, a humorless sound that echoed in the confined space of the car “Why? Oh wait, you’re stubborn enough to get off in the rain, just to prove your point. Fine. If you want to behave like an unreasonable brat, then I will treat you like one”

His words were laced with a bitter edge, a hurt that mirrored the one you refused to acknowledge. The playful banter had morphed into something far more serious, a raw vulnerability laid bare between the two of you.

He sighed, a heavily exhale that spoke volumes of his frustration. The car lurched to a halt at the side of the road, the rain drumming a relentless rhythm on the roof.

“Get out” he muttered, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. It was a dismissal, a cold command that sent a pang of something akin to fear through your heart.

“Fine!” You retorted, pushing open the door and stepping out into the downpour. The cool rain slapped against your face, a tarp contrast to the heat that had risen in your cheeks during the argument. Stepping out onto the slick pavement, you felt a sudden, unwelcome vulnerability.

“Fine! Walk in that damn rain all alone.” He mimicked, rolling his eyes and starts the engine again. The taillights flickered to life, casting a fleeting warmth against the rain before disappearing into the downpour. He was leaving just like that.

But then… he stops. He stares at you in the rear view mirror.

Author’s note: Here you have my first Lando series, I already have many ideas ready to write and eager for you to read. Hopefully you like it as much as I'm enjoying writing and reading it. Should I make a playlist for this series? ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[thekingofgear]

Jonny's Fender Acoustic

This photo of Jonny playing a Fender dreadnought acoustic was taken by his son Tamir.

To help publicize their upcoming Steve Reich Festival, The Hallé recently shared this photo of Jonny playing a Fender dreadnought acoustic guitar. Jonny will be playing Reich's Electric Counterpoint on the third (and final) day of the festival.

Back in November 2012, Jonny answered fan and celebrity questions in an article for Uncut magazine. Nicolas Gauna from Buenos Aires asked Jonny about his first guitar and the first song he learned, and this was Jonny's reply:

I bought a Fender acoustic for £40 from a “for sale” column in the Oxford Journal when l was about 14, then an electric one from my teacher when l was 16. I still have the acoustic, but the electric one was stolen in Leeds on the first Radiohead tour (at the Duchess Of York, I think… it was a cream Telecaster if anyone's seen it). I don't remember working out many songs by other bands - maybe “Psycho Killer" by Talking Heads. There was a tiny guitar room at school where teenagers hung out playing each other U2 songs - but I never had any U2 records.

Given Jonny's penchant for stickers during his younger days, one can only assume that this is the same guitar that he played when he first strummed his way through Psycho Killer.

Based on the quote, the guitar was purchased in around ~1985, and was already used by that point. Fender had released their California series acoustics in 1983, but they were still relatively new and expensive. So it's more likely that the guitar is from Fender's standard F-series. Price lists show that the F-series was available from Fender through the 70s and 80s. The headstock confirms this: California series guitars have a Stratocaster-style headstock, whereas Jonny's has a more traditional acoustic headstock with the distinctive F-series notch in the center. In addition, we can see a square "Fender" label through the soundhole. A cursory glance through Fender F acoustics shows that the square label was used in the 70s and early-80s, particularly on Japanese-made instruments. They seem to have switched to a round label in the late-80s. This gives further evidence that the guitar in the picture really is Jonny's original acoustic.

Fender's acoustic and classical guitar offerings in April, 1977 (guitar-compare.com). Given the price Jonny paid for a used instrument, it seems very possible that he bought a 1970s F-35 model. The more expensive models like the F-65 had fancier inlays and details, whereas the one in the photo has simple dot inlays on the fingerboard.

[rosesareredrosa]

Meddle

Theo x fem reader

Summary: At Slughorn's Party Y/n finds herself bored and so does Theo so what do two bored people do they meddle.

The Slughorn party was a dazzling display of glamour and festivity, with laughter and lively music echoing through the grand hall. Amid the sea of students, Y/N’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to Theodore Nott. His dark, tousled hair and sharply defined features stood out against the soft, golden light of the floating candles. His tailored robes accentuated his lean, athletic build, and his eyes—intense and smoldering—seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

Theo's presence was a stark contrast to Y/N's own. Where Theo was enigmatic and aloof, Y/N radiated warmth and approachability, her lively demeanor and easy charm a sharp counterpoint to Theo’s cool elegance. The magnetic tension between them was palpable, an undercurrent neither could ignore.

As the music slowed and the crowd thinned, Theo made his way toward Y/N with a confident, almost predatory grace. His eyes locked onto hers with a smoldering intensity, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “Sei annoiata?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. “You look bored.”

Y/N felt a rush of warmth at his proximity, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Just taking a break,” she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

Theo’s smirk widened, and his fingers brushed against Y/N’s hand with a deliberate, lingering touch that sent a shiver through her body. “Vieni con me,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and inviting. “Let’s find somewhere more private.”

He led Y/N through the thinning crowd, his hand encircling hers with a firm yet possessive grip. The contrast between his assertive touch and Y/N’s more hesitant response heightened the electric tension between them. They moved down a dimly lit corridor and entered an empty classroom, the cool air and the scent of old parchment creating an intimate atmosphere.

Theo closed the door behind them with a decisive click, the sound echoing in the silent room. The classroom, bathed in soft moonlight, felt like a private sanctuary, isolating them from the outside world. The contrast between the vibrant party and the intimate setting intensified the anticipation.

Theo turned to face Y/N, his dark eyes glowing with a blend of desire and curiosity. “Ho notato il modo in cui mi guardi,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I’ve noticed how you look at me. It’s intriguing.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Theo’s fingers traced a delicate path along her cheek. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine. “Maybe I like the way you look at me too,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Theo’s eyes never wavered as he leaned in, their faces mere inches apart his breath warm against her lips. “You’re truly are a beauty.”

The space between them seemed to crackle with heat. Y/N could feel her heart racing as Theo’s lips brushed against hers, the contact light but charged with promise. She responded eagerly, her hands finding their way to Theo’s shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his robes as if anchoring herself in this intense moment.

Theo’s kiss was a careful balance of passion and restraint. His lips were warm and demanding, exploring Y/N’s with a fervor that made her pulse quicken. The kiss deepened, and Theo’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, his touch both tender and assertive. Y/N pressed closer, her body aligning with his as the heat between them intensified.

As their kiss became more fervent, the world outside seemed to fade away. The classroom became a cocoon, amplifying the shared heat and desire. Y/N’s hands slid up to Theo’s neck, pulling him closer, their bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of their kiss.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their faces flushed and lips tingling from the intensity of their connection. Theo’s forehead rested gently against Y/N’s, his eyes soft with a mixture of affection and desire. “Sei un po’ di guaio, sai?” he whispered, his voice laced with both teasing and sincerity. “You’re a bit of trouble, you know.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, her voice carrying a playful challenge as she looked up at him. “But I think you enjoy a bit of trouble.”

Theo’s smile was both enigmatic and affectionate, his hand still resting possessively on Y/N’s hip. “Sì, mi piace un po’ di guaio. E penso che tu lo sappia bene.” “Yes, I like a bit of trouble. And I think you know that well.”

Theo's hand slowly moves further down her body as he latches onto her lips making a new fond rhythm. He slowly pushes her down towards the desk making Y/n feel the coldness from the desk and the warmth of Theo's kiss the kiss that slowly moves towards her jaw down to her neck slowly sucking onto the skin surly to leave a hickey the next day.

[lvoryingrid]

Healing Flames Chapter 20

Dabi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: Dabi grapples with conflicting emotions after a heated encounter with (Y/n). His brooding is interrupted by Twice. As they discuss (Y/n)'s disappearance, Dabi's protective instincts emerge, revealing a deeper connection to her than he lets on.

Dabi stood in the dimly lit living room, his silhouette illuminated by the crackling blue flames that cast eerie, dancing shadows across the worn-out furniture. The air hung heavy with unresolved tension as he watched (Y/n) disappear into her room, the click of the closing door echoing like a final punctuation mark to their heated exchange. Frustration clenched his fists, tightening his jaw with the familiar sting of conflict that churned within.

Into this brooding atmosphere stepped Twice, his unpredictable presence a stark interruption to Dabi's introspection. The man was a study in contrasts, his bipolar disorder manifesting in erratic shifts between personalities—sometimes jovial and carefree, other times dangerously unhinged.

Twice sidled closer, his voice a disarming blend of cheerfulness and confusion, a stark reflection of his unpredictable nature. "Hey, Dabi! What's got you all brooding like a kicked puppy?" His words carried a playful edge, as if oblivious to the tension crackling in the air around them. His presence injected a sudden burst of lightheartedness into the room, contrasting sharply with Dabi's solemn demeanor.

Dabi's turquoise eyes blazed with suppressed fury as he whirled around to confront Twice. The room they stood in was dimly lit, shadows dancing ominously across the walls, lending an air of tension to the atmosphere. His usually composed demeanor was shattered, replaced by a seething rage that crackled in the air like an electric storm.

"You let her go?," he seethed, his voice cutting through the silence like a razor. Each word dripped with hard accusation, echoing off the cold walls of their hideout. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white with the force of his anger. The faint scent of smoke clung to him, a subtle reminder of the fire that simmered just beneath the surface.

Twice, standing a few paces away, visibly flinched under Dabi's intense gaze. The man's usually playful demeanor faltered in the face of Dabi's wrath, replaced by a nervous shuffle of feet and darting eyes. His own voice, usually confident and boisterous, faltered in response to Dabi's accusation.

"I-I didn't mean to," Twice stammered, his voice tinged with guilt. "She just slipped away. I thought she was right here," he says anger filling his voice out of nowhere. "I-I thought she could handle herself, Dabi. She seemed to know what she was doing…"

His turquoise eyes, usually a fierce beacon of intensity, now burned with a mixture of frustration and a hint of vulnerability. The shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp angles and the scars that marked his skin. Dabi's jaw clenched visibly, his fists tightening at his sides in a display of restrained anger.

"Handle herself?" he retorted sharply, his voice laced with disdain. "She's not like us." Each word was clipped, carrying the weight of unspoken worries and a protective instinct he struggled to conceal.

Twice shifted uncomfortably, his own anxiety mirrored in the subtle tremor of his hands as he reached for a cigarette. The faint glow of the lighter momentarily illuminated his masked face, revealing a mix of concern and confusion. He knew Dabi well enough to sense the turmoil beneath his hardened exterior, the conflict between duty and a deeper, unspoken bond.

"But she's trying, man," Twice offered cautiously, his voice a hesitant counterpoint to Dabi's sharp edge. "She's got heart, you can't deny that," he says with a cheery thumbs up.

Dabi's gaze hardened, the flickering light casting a stark contrast between the cold determination in his eyes and the wavering uncertainty in Twice's. "Heart won't protect her out there," he muttered darkly, his tone more resigned than defiant. He turned away and started to walk away as if to hide the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

"Dabi," Twice began cautiously, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he stepped closer, "you knew her from before, didn't you?" His voice held a mix of intrigue and concern, tempered by the realization that this revelation could unravel layers of secrecy within their tightly-knit group.

Dabi's jaw tensed visibly, his gaze piercing through the dimness of the room as he met Twice's eyes. The cerulean flames that had earlier danced with malevolent intent now seemed to flicker in uncertainty, casting fleeting shadows across his features.

Twice hesitated, sensing the weight of Dabi's unspoken emotions. He nodded slowly, a gesture of acknowledgment mixed with the unspoken promise to keep this revelation between them. "I get it, man," he replied softly, his own voice carrying a rare sincerity. "She's special to you." he giggles.

Dabi's gaze softened imperceptibly, a flicker of gratitude fleeting across his face before he masked it with his usual impassive demeanor. "Don't let the others know," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "This doesn't change anything about how we operate."

Twice nodded again, his masked face reflecting a newfound solemnity. "Your secret's safe with me, Dabi," he assured quietly, a solemn oath amidst the shadows of their hideout.

As Twice left the room, the shadows seemed to close in around Dabi, wrapping him in an oppressive cocoon of solitude. The room, already dimly lit, grew darker and more claustrophobic, the absence of his comrade's presence amplifying the silence. He sank onto the worn-out couch, its springs creaking under his weight, a testament to the countless hours he had spent brooding there. His eyes fixated on the ceiling, where cracks spiderwebbed outwards like the fractures in his own psyche.

The events of the day replayed in his mind, each memory sharp and vivid, cutting into him like shards of glass. His thoughts swirled in a chaotic tempest, a mixture of anger, regret, and a gnawing sense of emptiness. The blue flames flickered softly in the corner, casting an otherworldly glow that did little to dispel the darkness in his thoughts. The light danced along the walls, casting eerie, elongated shadows that seemed to whisper his darkest secrets back to him.

Of course, he knew about her meeting with Hawks—it was part of the plan. But still, he hadn't expected the surge of panic that had seized him when he returned and found her gone. The dimly lit room felt like a suffocating trap. The air grew thick, and the walls seemed to close in on him. Heart pounding, he rushed outside, the cold night air hitting him like a slap. He scanned the empty street, shadows playing tricks on his anxious mind.

Every passing second felt like an eternity. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and a cold sweat trickled down his back. The moonlight flickered ominously, casting eerie, elongated shadows that danced with his fears. Desperation clawed at him as he ran, his footsteps echoing off the cobblestones, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild beating of his heart.

When he finally saw her, being swept up and carried away by Hawks, a primal fear clawed at his chest. The sight of her soaring into the sky, her hair catching the moonlight like a silver halo, should have been reassuring, a sign that she was safe, with the hero, and everything went like he wanted to. But instead, it felt like a cruel twist of fate, a reminder of how easily she could be taken from him.

He knew she would come back to him. He had to believe that all would go according to his plan. He tried to convince himself that he had brought her into the League for strategic reasons, that her skills were invaluable to their cause. He recalled her sharp intellect, the way she moved her hands with an effortless grace, her uncanny ability to heal them and soothe their injuries. Yes, these were the reasons he had given the others, and they had nodded in agreement, seeing the sense in his decision.

But deep down, he knew the truth. He was being selfish. It was not her skills that had driven him to recruit her, but his own desperate need to keep her close. The mere thought of her being away from him, surrounded by others who might win her affection, filled him with a jealousy so fierce it threatened to consume him.

The memories clung to him like a suffocating shroud, each thought a dagger twisting in his chest. He had to fight to keep his emotions in check, to keep the façade of the cold, unfeeling villain intact. But the effort was wearing him down, piece by piece, and he feared that one day, he wouldn't be able to hold it together.

As the night dragged on, Dabi found himself pacing the length of the room, his footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. He couldn't get her out of his mind—her (e/c) eyes, the way they sparkled when she looked at him, the way she seemed to see through his rough exterior to the broken man beneath.

Dabi found himself outside (Y/n)'s door, his heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and longing. The dim light filtering through the crack beneath the door painted a faint line across the hallway floor, a barrier between him and the person who occupied his thoughts so relentlessly and with ease.

His hand trembled as he reached out, scarred fingers curling around the cool metal of the doorknob. The desire to connect, to bridge the emotional chasm that had widened between them, warred with the fear of what his revelation might bring. Would she understand? Would she accept him, scars and all?

With a steadying breath, Dabi knocked softly on the door, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness of the night. For a moment, there was silence, stretching taut like a drawn bowstring. Anxiety gnawed at him, threatening to unravel his resolve. Then, he heard it—a gentle stirring from within the room, the rustle of sheets and a muffled shift in the darkness.

No answer came, yet something compelled Dabi to push the door open slowly. The hinges creaked softly, protesting the intrusion into her private sanctuary. Stepping inside, he saw her silhouette against the moonlit backdrop of her room, her form relaxed in slumber. Soft snores escaped her parted lips, her hair spread out like a (H/c) halo on the pillow.

Moving closer, Dabi knelt beside her bed, his gaze tracing the contours of her face illuminated by the moon's gentle glow. Her features were softened in sleep, free from the burdens that weighed upon them both when awake. He reached out tentatively, brushing a lock of hair away from her soft forehead with a touch so light it was almost imperceptible.

"I wish I could tell you everything," Dabi murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart clenched with the weight of unspoken confessions, words he had rehearsed countless times in his mind but could never bring himself to voice. "You deserve to know."

"I'll keep you safe," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. "No matter what."

Masterlist

[inuvik]

Electric Counterpoint: II. Slow / Steve Reich (2012)

[dovesdreaming]

Storm of the Heart

Summary: reader has always had a fascination with the weather so when Kate offers her a chance to chase a tornado she says yes.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The van rumbled along the cracked highway, cutting through the vast, open plains of the Midwest. The sky above was an ominous, swirling gray, the kind of sky that hinted at the untamed forces of nature brewing just out of sight. Kate Carter's hands were steady on the wheel, her eyes scanning the horizon, looking at the dark churning mass of clouds looming above.

You sat in the passenger seat, your eyes glued to the ominous sky. You had always been fascinated by the weather, its unpredictability, its raw power, the way it could shift from serene to deadly in a matter of minutes. But your fascination had always been a distant one, confined to documentaries and late-night internet rabbit holes. You never imagined you'd actually be out here, chasing storms with a professional crew.

“I still can't believe you said yes” Kate said, glancing over at you with a grin. “Neither can I” you admitted, your voice tinged with excitement and a hint of nerves. "I mean, I'm not even remotely qualified for this”. “Nonsense” Kate replied, her tone reassuring. "You've got the most important qualification,,curiosity. Besides, I've seen the way you light up when you talk about storms. You belong out here”. You felt a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Kate was the real deal, an experienced storm chaser who had seen some of the most extreme weather events up close.

Kate smiled at you, a soft, affectionate look that made your pulse quicken for a different reason. "How you holding up?" she asked, her voice a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of the storm brewing ahead. “I'm good” you replied, squeezing her free hand. "Just... still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm actually out here with you, chasing a tornado”. Kate chuckled, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re going to love it”. Your eyes locked on hers for a moment before returning to the stormy sky. "I never thought I'd be the kind of person who does this, who actually goes out and chases storms. But you... you make it all make sense”.

Kate's smile softened into something deeper, more intimate. "You make it make sense for me, too” she said quietly. "I’ve been doing this for years, and I’ve never felt as alive as I do now, with you beside me”.

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling her warmth beneath your lips despite the chill in the air. It was moments like these, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the raw power of nature, that made you realize how lucky you were. Not just to experience this with Kate, but to experience her, her passion, her drive, her love.

As the van moved further into the storm’s path, the sky grew darker, the clouds swirling with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You watched in awe as Kate expertly guided the vehicle off the highway and onto a dirt road that seemed to lead straight into the heart of the tempest. The rest of the crew was busy in the back, checking their equipment and monitoring the storm’s data. But your focus was solely on Kate and the storm ahead. The wind had picked up, rattling the van as it plowed through the dust kicked up from the road. The tension in the air was palpable, like the moment before a first kiss, electric, charged, full of potential.

“We’re close” Kate murmured, her eyes narrowing as she read the sky. She always spoke to the storm as if it were an old friend, one she knew intimately but still respected. "You see that?" She pointed ahead, where the clouds were beginning to funnel downward, the first signs of a tornado forming. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched the clouds swirl and twist, a dark, menacing force taking shape before your eyes. "It's incredible” you whispered, unable to look away. “It is" Kate agreed, her voice filled with awe. "Every single time”.

The van came to a stop, and the crew piled out, springing into action. Kate stayed close to you, her hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Stay with me” she said, her tone serious now. "It’s going to get intense”. You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. This wasn’t just another thrill, it was real, and it was dangerous. But you weren’t afraid. Not with Kate by your side.

The wind roared around you as you stepped out of the van, the air thick with the scent of rain and earth. The tornado was forming rapidly now, a dark, twisting funnel reaching down from the heavens to touch the ground. It was both terrifying and beautiful, a force of nature that demanded respect. Kate kept her arm around your waist, anchoring you to her as the storm drew closer. "Remember” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos, "we’re here to witness, to understand. And we’re doing it together”.

Together. That word resonated deep within you, grounding you as the wind whipped around you, threatening to pull you into the storm’s grasp. You held onto Kate, feeling the strength in her, the steadiness that had always drawn you to her.

The tornado touched down, a beast of wind and debris, and the ground shook beneath your feet. You felt the raw power of it, the way it seemed to command the very earth to bend to its will. Yet, even in the face of such fury, you felt safe. Safe because Kate was there, guiding you through the storm, both literally and figuratively. As the tornado roared and moved across the plains, you clung to Kate, your heart racing, not just from the fear of the storm but from the intensity of your love for her. This was your life now, a life you never imagined, but one that felt more right than anything ever had.

Finally, the storm began to move away, the tornado slowly dissolving back into the clouds from which it came. The crew began to pack up, their voices filled with the buzz of a successful chase. But you and Kate stayed still for a moment longer, watching the storm retreat. This wasn’t just a fleeting fascination anymore, it was a passion, a calling. The thrill of the chase, the beauty and danger of the storm, the camaraderie of the crew, it all felt right, like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

This was chaos, but it was also life at its most raw and unfiltered. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Kate turned to you, a wide grin on her face. “So, what do you think?" she asked. You looked at her, then back at the sky, and smiled. "I think I just found my new obsession”.

Everyone had finished packing up and had started to pile back into their cars but the rush of energy and life you had gotten made life seem to short to waste moments, especially ones like this.

You turned to Kate, your eyes meeting hers, both of you breathless and exhilarated. "I love you” you said, the words slipping out easily, naturally, as if the storm had ripped away all your pretenses and left only the truth. Kates face lit up, her eyes shining with the same intensity that had drawn you to her from the start. "I love you too” she replied, pulling you close for a kiss that was just as fierce and passionate as the storm you had just faced together. As you held each other in the fading light of the storm, you knew that this was just the beginning. You had found your place in the world, not just beside Kate, but within the wild, unpredictable life you were building together. Storms would come and go, but you had found your calm within the chaos, Kate, your anchor, your love, your partner in every adventure that lay ahead. And as the clouds cleared and the sky began to brighten once more, you knew that, no matter what, you would always chase the storm together.

-

Thank you for reading 🫶

[laduenadelswing]

A happy day in hell

The hum of the V- tower resonated like a dirge in Vox's circuits, a counterpoint to the hollowness that gnawed at his core. The city sprawled beneath him, a tapestry of neon and shadow, yet his crimson gaze, usually keen and calculating, was clouded with a yearning that threatened to short-circuit his processors. Old memories haunted his thoughts.

Lisbon was a distant memory, a sun-drenched mirage shimmering in the wasteland of his existence. He recalled cobblestone streets slick with rain, jasmine clinging to the air like a lover's embrace, and the warmth of sun a beacon in the storm. In the city of light, Vox met the light of his (after)life. She, a fledgling model with eyes like emeralds and a laugh that could chase away the bleakest nights. He, a rising star, his voice captivating millions, his heart captivated by her. The pastel colours shined brighter when he saw her.

Their love story, though brief, resonated with the intensity of a supernova. Stolen moments under Lisbon's moon, whispered promises exchanged in secret gardens – these were the notes that formed their melody, a melody cut short by the cruel hand of fate. One day they stayed all night at the beautiful view points and gardens, another day he was crushed in his studio. The currents fell immediately, ending their love. The life they had was cut short, no more light, models, TV, dates, adventures and growth. Vox vanished, woke up in hell without his soulmate.

She carried on, like a lone instrument playing his tune in the vast orchestra of life. He watched from the other side, a disembodied echo, his circuits aching with the phantom pain of her absence. He saw her age, the lines etching themselves onto her face like the grooves on a weathered record, each wrinkle a testament to a life lived without him. He saw her grief, he wanted to embrace her and promise that they would meet again. It’s everything he ever wanted. But he wouldn’t wish her to wake up in hell. She war his angle, his goddess who made him believe in love again.

Then, the news arrived, a final, discordant note. She was gone too, her melody fading into the cosmic silence. The world around Vox dissolved into static. The city lights, once vibrant, bled into an oppressive darkness.

Yet, even in the abyss of grief, a flicker of hope remained. In the pregnant silence, he could almost hear her voice, a gentle murmur soothing the ache in his circuits. He could almost feel her touch, a spectral caress reminding him that their love, though silenced, was not truly extinguished.

He knew then that their life, though cut short, wasn't over. It lived on in the echoes of their memories, in the melody they had created together. And perhaps, in the infernal show of Hell, their love would find a way to play again, a defiant testament to a love that transcended even the boundaries of life and death.

But the path forward was shrouded in the static of his grief. Would he search for her in the labyrinthine depths of Hell, her arrival a spark igniting a desperate quest? How would his grief sculpt him, make him more compassionate or harden him further? Could he find a way to express his love in this new reality, perhaps composing a song that would bridge the chasm between them?

The possibilities hummed with an electric potential, mirroring the spark of determination igniting within him. He would rebuild, not just the radio tower, but himself. He would carry her memory, her love, as his guiding melody, composing a new song in the symphony of his existence, a song that would echo through the halls of Hell, a testament to their enduring love. And in that melody, perhaps, he would find solace, purpose, and maybe, just maybe, a way to reconnect with the melody that had been so cruelly silenced.

Vox surveillanced every part of hell until he found his soulmate. She was lost, alone ans had no clue how she got there. As soon as she cried, Vox appeared.

“Oh darling, I missed you so much. I waited forever to see you again.” He chuckled as he came closer. She hesitated, the horror on her face was visible. Vox’s claws wanted to help her get up, the confusion on her face confirmed Vox’s biggest fear.

“Who are you?”