#The new twenty one pilots releases have been making me so reflective (and filling me with unwavering hope)...

[noyin]

This is Logan to Ground Control

AO3 Here!

Rating: G

Pairing(s): Logicality, Familial Analogical, Background Prinxiety

Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Outer Space, Astronaut!Logan, Familial Virgil And Logan, Angst, it's sad, Also I Know Nothing Of Spaceships, Inspired By: Space Oddity By David Bowie, Oneshot, Stream of Consciousness

Summary:

Ground Control to Logan, your circuit's dead, there's something wrong... Can you hear me, Logan? Can you hear me, Logan? Can you hear me, Logan?

---

It was usually so quiet.

Occasionally, Logan would find himself singing to himself to fill up the emptiness that seemingly filled everything these days. He missed the sound of singing in the morning, the smell of slightly burnt pancakes overlapped with bacon, the warmth of the bed and a body draped over him, peppering his face with kisses.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," came a cheerful voice.

Logan woke up to the circular window overhead. And thousands of stars looked back at him. The vast expanse of space was absolutely beautiful and breathtaking, it never ceased to amaze Logan. Even as a little boy, he would spend hours under the night sky, and his bedroom had been filled with astronomy books and a telescope by the window. Yet, the longer he looked at the window, the clearer it became, that the vastness of space only meant it was also incredibly-

Lonely.

Wetly, that same voice told him, Hey, bring me back a souvenir from the moon. A piece of rock floated around the room, the same greyish white one that had been for the passed three months.

Logan undid the snap that held him in place on his bed. The snap felt like a cruel imitation of an arm. So, sometimes he would float in his sleep.

As he usually did—even in space, Logan held routine to a high standard—he first pulled out a photograph from his dark blue jumpsuit pocket. It had gone soft around the edges and it was folded in some places, a testimony to how much it had been loved. It was a picture of a man and a boy, the man whose smile warmed him, and the boy whose grimace always made him chuckle.

We love you, come back soon, was written on the bottom in faded, loopy black ink.

Logan gently set the picture back in his pocket. Something bitter caught in his throat and he got all misty-eyed, as he usually did. That was a normal, human emotion, Logan deduced. Yes, it was only natural that he missed his husband and son.

 I wonder if they're happy…

Logan floated through the claustrophobic cylindrical innards of the ship, making his way to the galley. Breakfast wasn't anything interesting, just a piece of jerky and a sip of coffee.

Okay, he thought to himself, skimming the supplies in the locker as he chewed the jerky. That would be...three hundred and twenty five days.

He marked that on the paper taped to the locker.

Floating away from the galley, he went into another smaller, spherical room, that had no windows and was kept quite dim. He sat on the seat in the middle and buckled in, then turned on the computer that sat opposite of him.

"Day one hundred and ten, it is currently zero nine-hundred, UTC. This is flight engineer Logan of the space shuttle, T. Sanders. It has been ninety five days since I lost contact with Ground Control and the rest of the crew," Logan said. He swallowed. "Today, I'm continuing my repair on the unusual kink in the OMS engine. I'm fairly certain there's a problem with the hydraulics, some kind of issue with the heating and cooling. As far as I'm aware, as of now, it is unsafe to maneuver." Logan inhaled. It was harder to keep his voice level. "However, if it is as serious as I believe it to be, then..." Logan trailed off.

His hand slid into his pocket and he caressed the photograph's worn face. I won't be returning.

"I don't- I'm unsure if I have the necessary parts on board. To- to fix it. And I don't know if it's worth taking the risk, to make the return to Earth on a damaged ship. If I do make the decision, it must be now, as I'm coming up on Mars in a few weeks. And I only have so many resources."

Quickly muttering his closing, he saved the video with the rest of the entries of his electronic journal, and shut the computer off. Logan made his way out of the room, floating down the halls to the flight deck.

He started talking again—he did that a lot as of late, he realized. Strangely, he found himself addressing the company he didn't have, or wished he had, and Logan knew it was simply a coping mechanism he had made up. Because, some days felt on the brink of a breakdown and that was the thread holding him together.

"How are you doing today, Patton? Have you done anything new? I know you were working on a garden before I left. I'm sorry I'm useless when it comes to plants. I know, I have a degree in science and engineering, so you'd imagine I would at least have some sort of 'green thumb,' as you put it. But that's why I need you, bumblebee." Logan smiled. "I'm glad gardening makes you happy. I only ever want to see you smile."

Logan turned the corner.

"Oh, good morning, Virgil. Are you doing okay recently? How has therapy been? I know you didn't tell me, but I heard from Dad that you found yourself a boyfriend. Is Roman kind to you, Virgil? It's funny how you met him at the cafe, it reminds me of your Dad and I. You should invite him over for supper. I would love to meet him."

Logan stopped muttering to himself when he finally reached the flight deck. Much like the rest of the ship, it was completely empty, save for several chairs and the control console. There was a window that stretched across the room, displaying the thousands of light years of space, stars, and unknown. Had Logan not been looking at it the whole time, had Logan not been in space for what felt like ages, he guessed he would have never gotten tired of such a sight.

Logan clawed his way to the intercom.

Logically, he knew that using it would have the same outcome as any other time. Illogically, as humans wished to think sometimes, he hoped for a newer outcome. Pushing the button, he spoke.

"This is flight engineer Logan to Ground Control. Can anybody hear me? Over."

Static.

"I repeat, is there anybody there? This is flight engineer Logan to Ground Control. I'm the only remaining crew aboard the Space Shuttle, T. Sanders. Over."

Static.

Logan dropped his head.

"Please."

Silence.

What else was he expecting?

Dejected, Logan let his hand slip from the intercom. He glanced to the window and floated up to it. He wet reflection shined clear on the glass and he laid his forehead on the cold smoothness. All he could see was space. Beautiful, beautiful, lonely space.

Don't get too lonely up there.

He held his husband close. He smelled distinctly of bread. No. Sugar. No. Logan couldn't remember.

I'll be back before you know it, love. It's a small mission to retrieve a satellite. Nothing should go wrong.

You promise?

I promise.

Logan tapped his forehead against the glass. Of course. Of course everything had to go wrong. There had to be a problem with the ship, there had to be a loss of contact from Ground Control, and there had to be a malfunctioning escape pod that shot before Logan could get in.

We love you, come back soon.

Logan dug the picture from his pocket, slamming it against the window pane. He stared at it, he stared at the wedding band around his finger, all through teary eyes.

"Dammit," Logan cursed.

Logan slipped away from the window.

He knew it was very stupid, what he was about to do. The odds of death were incredibly high, but Logan thought, what did it matter? He was going to die anyway, alone, in the vastness of space.

Logan slid into the pilot's seat and fastened his belt, then reached over to the intercom, shaking, crying, his voice thick.

"This is flight engineer Logan to Ground Control. With no given orders, I have made the executive decision to turn this vessel around. I'm charting a course back to Earth. If this message ever reaches Ground Control and I..." Logan stuttered. Pause. Inhale. "Tell- tell my husband I love him very much. Tell my son I love him very much." Releasing the intercom, Logan took in a big breath. "Though, I'm sure they know."

[cyberwavelit]

Gamer's Debt (Short Story)

"Crap, all I wanted was the gold chest so I can buy some extra lives. If I don't get any more extra lives, I'll lose all my gold when I die. How am I supposed to win if I have to pay for every damn thing?" Joden stepped down the ramp of his Blourgan cruiser and surveyed the alien landscape. It was barren except for the remains of a small village that he had just annihilated with a two-ton necro-missile.

"That's life. People are generally selfish, impatient, and insecure. Game companies use these weaknesses to motivate players. Maybe you shouldn't have blown up the village, is all I'm saying." The pilot of the cruiser, Jershamalama, spoke through his comm.

"But how does anyone get the hell out of this game if they can never win? I've been stuck in this hell hole for thirty days! My body’s back in the real world, rotting away.”

"Hey, you wanted to play, didn't you? Maybe if we travel to a non-npc sector we can trade off some of this junk we get every time we kill an enemy.” His pilot stared at him from the cockpit.

Joden looked back, “I feel like a slave. That garbage is only worth a pinto cent. It’ll take decades to get to the end game. And besides, that's if we can take off with all that junk. It'll take us a few hours to get back into the atmosphere. It's like a Fetch-22."

"You mean a fetch quest?"

"Yeah, something like that." said Joden taking out his cent-o-meter. It consumed his health bar as it scanned the surrounding sector. His eyes darted around his visor interface, looking at all the blips and bubbles that pinged. “I wish I could afford the Super Hyper Gold Jetpack that all the booster players use.”

“They only release that on the first Wednesday of every other month with a sign-on fee, an option to buy stocks in EternaEntertinament, a monthly fee, a mental evaluation, and maintenance fees when your able to grab it from one of the random places it spawns, like the Hell planet Infernum or the planet Madness Descent. Plus, I hear they only give you like a 3 second jump.”

“What?!” He nearly tripped over a crumpled alien body. “You can’t be serious. My mom’s going to kill me. I told her I was going to school. I figured I could just sign up for a few games, try my hand at Galactic Teamslayer, and be back at the rent-a-plex by nine. That was a month ago!”

“Relax. They won’t even notice you’re gone. Most parents have been sucked into this new thing called Binge Child Raising. EternaEntertinament created it too. It’s a simulation where adults can raise children and not have them become reclusive, angst-ridden failures. They’re really gouging everyone for money, real and fake, young and old.”

Joden was too focused on the horizon where a few blips were going off. They were purple, which meant that they were low-value targets. Everything seemed to be purple. “I never asked--how long you been here?”

“You shoulda seen it when it was it first came out. The servers would never load and you had to sit there, in the darkness, watching a timer run out as they patched their simulation. It was like holding your breath under water.” The pilot sucked his teeth. “Hang on a sec. Have to rate the game again—after this ad.”

“Yeah, I hate doing this every hour.” The astronaut picked up a child’s toy from the clutched hand of a sloblarian. “Wonder what this is worth. I heard that we used to play with things like this, not just video games where you pay to win. Up, hang on a sec, got an ad playing.”

Joden’s reality changed. He was sitting on a park bench. A duck came up to him, honking and pulling at his pants. The countdown to the end of the ad appeared in his peripheral. It quaked and quaked until Joden threw down a few coins to skip it.

Back in game world he was still holding the toy. He threw it down with distain and a lack of remembrance for such physical trifles.

He was then asked to rate the game. He voted as he always had, giving it a one-star out of three. There was a chime and a message: “We’re sorry you’re not enjoying your time in our game world. Perhaps if you were more openminded and understanding of the fact that you may not always get what you want, you might have a better experience with our merchandise. Please lower your expectations. Thank you.”

Joden coughed to drown out the message he had heard a hundred times. “I’m so tired of game companies stealing from us. Don’t they realize that it’ll only make the game suffer?”

“Yeah,” responded the pilot, “let’s go steal something.”

“I’m so tired, Jersh. I just want to go somewhere where we can kill an alien race and grind their bones into dust. What’s so wrong with that?”

“If you only knew, kid. On its launch the game world wasn’t even finished. Eterna used the gamers to construct most of the planets using the build-and-play incentive. Those gamers signed a contract that said that they had to make at least four hundred ‘products’ before they could actually the game. They called it the ‘fix-it-later’ release. The products they were referring to was one galaxy. Those designer gamers are probably still waiting…”

“Four hund--?” Joden held up his fist to the pilot, who had been watching from the ship’s windshield. “That’s extortion!”

“Welcome to the world. They get away with it because it’s a game world. You can do anything in the game world like gambling, murder, blackmail, forced labor, and forced sodomy. Nothing’s real so nothing matters.”

The astronaut had disembarked about five hundred meters from the ship. Steam bellowed from its worn exhaust. “Why did you call me kid? How old are you? I mean I know you have the same avatar as me…”

“Age doesn’t matter either. Yeah, I couldn’t afford the customizations either.” Jersh tapped his helmet. “So, I guess we both have the same face.”

“And same weapons, gear, armor, boots, ships, weapon skins, and abilities.” He noticed a large oval blob on his visor’s HUD. It was moving closer behind a small series of stone pillars.

“Oh no, I have the blue-skinned Rigormortis rifle. It’s got this badass blue stripe on the side. Cost me 20,000 gold, 200 platinum, and 4 of my lifesaving’s accounts. If I didn’t have this stripe, I’d probably go insane or worse, color blind.”

“Shut up, dude. Something’s coming. I think it’s a surviving sloblarian. I hear they get angro really quick. I don’t want to die here, man. I never bought a 600-gold resurrection pack. It’ll take sixty days to load back in…”

Jersh responded, sounding distracted, “You’re fine. Just cap it in the head or something.”

The purple blob was twenty meters away. If it wanted to attack it would have to come out into the open and charge him. He could tell there was movement but it was more restless than threatening. Joden took out his rifle and fired at the rock tower. The gun exploded in his hands, sending his obliterated fingers in multiple directions.

“Ah damnit! I forgot about the maintenance fee!”

The figure bounded from the pillar and slunk slowly towards the enemy astronaut. It skulked across the yellow, Phallusian sand with its omni-dexterous flippers. Arriving to the hunched-over human its tugged at his spacesuit and motioned for him to come closer.

“Gross dude, it wants to talk to me. What should I do?” The rounded head bobbed up and down like a rubbery ball. It seemed to be injured or at least miserable.

Joden heard distinct crunching noises emanating from the pilot’s mouth. “IDK. Step on it I guess.”

The polymorphous blob at his feet opened its crevice-like mouth and appeared to gasp for air. But it wasn’t gasping. It was whispering. He leaned down and listened.

“Dunk…prrray…Donk pppreeeey.” It was saying, and gargled as its lips flapped. “Doooonnk plllaaaaay. Chooose nut to pprraaaaay. Fyind sumting essl to do wilth yourg tyhme.”

“Oh, hell no!” shouted the man, as he squashed the creature’s face with his boot. It was like stepping on a water balloon filled with pebbles. He looked at where his hands used to be and screamed into the sky. “What does it all mean? Why do I always have to be punished! I’ve been in the same place for too long!”

"It's not good to live in a dream.” More crunching came from the ship. “You sometimes forget what life is like."

Virtual blood splashed onto the dry dirt from his nubs. A few splatters mixed with the alien’s internal fluids. The reflective pool at his feet showed his avatar’s face, the same face of his pilots. He searched rapidly for any signs of wealth or material possession. There was nothing but ooze and viscera. Tattered cloth around the dead alien’s head was smushed and torn.  

He turned toward the ship with a look of bewilderment. “How many gamers are trapped here? We can’t be the only ones. This game isn’t anything like what they advertised. They lied to us! Who would want to be stuck in this perpetual nightmare of pay-to-play, pay-to-build, pay-to-live, pay-to-pay mechanics?”

“I don’t think you get it.” The pilot was still eating. “Companies do this to consumers because consumers let them. The general belief is that consumers are very smart but when’s the last time you heard someone say: ‘I won’t buy that because it goes against my code of ethics?’ None, no one’s ever said that. People like spending money. It’s in our blood. Its our nature to trust rich people. They seem to have all the right answers even when they don’t. They make the truths that we all follow. Besides, how could they get all that money if they had bad intentions.”

Joden used his character’s remaining strength to rush back towards the Blourgan cruiser. He felt a draft of air coming in the direction of the ship, and heard the engine roaring to life. “What the hell are you doing?”

The mercenary vessel hovered three feet off the ground and its nose pointed at the runner. Its pilot could be seen through the windshield, “Sorry newb, you’re becoming to be a real downer.”

“I thought you were my friend!” he whimpered, his nubs heaving back and forth.

The ship elevated to ten feet. “None of us are really friends. We’re all just trying to make a living. And I need one more kill for the Slayer Award. We’re all just numbers.”

As he came to the plateau where he had disembarked, he held up his invisible hands to shield his face. “I just want to go home! I just want to go home.”

A cybersonic laser beam burst from the cruiser’s forward cannons. He felt the hot bathing light of the beam and then felt nothing at all.

“I can’t get out…I can’t…” He awoke in darkness. A screen appeared that read the same message he received hundreds of times, “You have died. Looks like you have low gear and feeble weapons. Would you like to buy a booster pack?”

“No.” he responded.

“A looter box?”

“No!”

He said the same words over and over before. The message continued, “You have elected to refuse game-provided assistance. This is a poor decision. In order to continue gameplay without using game-provided assistance please insert thirty-seven-point-one resurrection tokens.”

He wanted to cry but said, “I don’t have any.”

The automated voice paused and spoke again after popping up a sixty-page form. “Well that sucks. In order to continue please complete the loan agreement in front of you. The loan is for $6,000. Sign here, here, and here.”

Joden lowered his shoulders and looked at his current debt. It read: “-387,000.” He breathed out, collapsing his chest, and grew red-faced. “No!” he shouted.  

There was another pause and the form disappeared. For several moments there was darkness and silence. “Very well.” The automated voice returned. “You have chosen reincarnation. Goodbye.”

“No!” he screamed defiantly. “No!”

Then, all of a sudden, he felt strange. He looked out through oddly-colored eyes. His hands had returned but they had three fingers instead of five. When he tried to speak, he could only gasp through what felt like a straw. The sand that he walked on grew hardened in his webbed feet. An alien girl danced toward him, carrying a toy. She hugged him with pencil-thin arms and turned towards the sky. Tattered robes fell along his arm and he patted the girl’s head. He looked up, to where the girl was gazing and saw a massive fireball break through the atmosphere. A necro-missile came out of the fiery plume, heading straight for their small, stony village. 

[pineaberry]

What a Difference Ten Months Makes

Or as @sunsetofdoom called it: HIGH-QUALITY HAND PORN.

This was inspired by the fact that I’ve rolled a new Jedi Consular and we finally reached Balmorra. The entire time I was on that planet I felt so bad for killing all these Imps and essentially blowing up Sobrik. The Consular storyline takes place about ten months after Quinn left Balmorra, so my precious bae is safe but STILL! I FEEL SO GUILTY!

Tagging @a-mustache-named-doc or she’ll never let me live it down!

Anywhoodles, here’s some hand porn.

Captain Malavai Quinn, Second Grade serving under… no strike that. Serving directly under newly appointed Lord of the Sith, Tremas Cidran, informs the Imperial Military and Intelligence Services that one Republic General Karastace Gonn has been executed along with his republic collaborators. Addendum: Imperial Agent Fawste was deemed …

Quinn paused as he thought about how to properly word the interaction. The holonet news droned in the background as he worked, he found that it was the easiest way to absorb knowledge subconsciously. He stared at his report as the announcer provided a step by step breakdown of the Rakghoul plague ravaging Hutta. It was nothing he didn’t already know, but no doubt the slug overlords would be complaining loudly to anyone willing to listen.

“... all Imperial transports to Hutta have been suspended. Any vessel departing Hutta’s moon, Nar Shaddaa are currently being scanned and monitored. Imperial Customs reports recently locating and dismantling a criminal ring smuggling runaway slaves, but have found no sign of the Rakghoul virus within Imperial spaceports. The stolen property has been quarantined for their own protection and will be returned to their rightful owners...”

Well that had been idiotic. Smuggling slaves through a customs port already on high alert demonstrated a lack of foresight that bordered on the idiotic. He made a mental note to research alternatives to cross-faction holdings where a truce was in place. It was always good to have options. He’d heard rumors about a new planet called Voss...

Quinn shook his head and focused his thoughts back to the events of the previous days. Following the direction of Darth Baras, Lord Tremas had arrived on Nar Shaddaa to head off a double agent in their midst. By all rights the Chiss was a traitor, he had threatened countless lives in the Empire, yet Lord Tremas had shown him mercy and spared his life along with his co-conspirators. Quinn’s eyes narrowed in contempt.

The Ascendancy joining the Republic. Preposterous. As though the Republic would have any sort of appreciation for Chiss hierarchy and protocol.

His fingertips tapped the edge of his datapad as he mentally ran a few scenarios. All the while the Holonet rambled on about the strategic value of Corellia and its devolution into a war of attrition.

The Chiss would have a revolution within the month and it would serve them right for introducing Republic ideals to the uninformed.

“...a terrorist Jedi sect calling themselves the Green Jedi have embedded themselves within Corellia causing heavy casualties and interfering with the Empire’s planetary peacekeeping efforts. Sith assassins were deployed this past month and effectively eliminated the threat. Twenty-five of the terrorists were apprehended alive during a raid on their training grounds. They have since been delivered to Dromund Kaas for trial and questioning.

“The Republic issued a statement earlier this week demanding the unconditional release of the criminals claiming they were underage. Jedi are notorious for their use of child soldiers on the field. Teenage Jedi have been reported decimating Imperial troops on the front lines. However, a spokesperson for Darth Vowrawn reports all twenty-five of the prisoners have since repented and offered valuable information in exchange for a opportunity to study on Korriban. I’m told we have holovideo of the reformed criminals renouncing their Republic citizenship and requesting asylum within the Empire...”

The Chiss traitors’ lives were forfeit. They’d proven to be untrustworthy agents meaning they were less than worthless. The entire unit was a liability, whatever use the Empire could squeeze out of them would have to be in the form of indentured servitude to Darth Baras.

Quinn’s lips twitched in a wry smile. He wasn’t sure if such a fate was indeed more merciful than death.

...Fawste has been deemed a critical asset for Lord Tremas’ ongoing mission. He and his men have been reassigned to classified positions under her Lordship’s service. Attached are Sith Personnel Transfer Forms 2556-A and notice of access revocation to their personnel files. Please note that the transfer forms and subsequent notice of revocation file are provided only as a courtesy to local command and not subject to appeal.

He gave the missive a cursory glance before sending it out to the appropriate channels. Another job well done. He allowed himself to stretch and lean back looking every bit like a smug manka cat draped over the central command chair. The bridge was quiet save for the holonet’s droning, and the stars sparkled just beyond the Fury’s viewport giving the enclosed bridge a sense of wide open space. It took him a moment to realize the light, airy emotion he was feeling was contentment. He caught his reflection on his datapad and noticed the dark circles under his eyes were gone, his face had filled out making him look less gaunt and half-starved than before. He realized the worry lines around his face had smoothed and he appeared- well he physically looked happy.

He glanced at the date. Ten months. Had it really been less than a year since he had left Balmorra? It felt like a lifetime ago. It was as though that entire decade had been a terrible nightmare that had ensnared him in a darkness that threatened to consume him.

Until she came into his life.

Her presence had been like a breath of fresh air within a tomb. Thoughts of Lord Tremas always filled him with strange emotions. Any other soldier would be thrilled to receive her attentions but he couldn’t help but feel unworthy. Whatever sordid affairs all the other imperials prided themselves in, Quinn felt that acting on his baser impulses to be conduct unbecoming an officer.

And yet, she always seemed to find a way to slip past his personal boundaries. From the very beginning she hadn’t been what he expected. On the field she was considerate to his limitations even going as far as to reprimand him when he pushed himself too far. She never punished him when things went wrong. She never indulged in the thrill of having him cower or cringed in fear of her. More often than naught, she asked for his opinion.

She was kind, and understanding, and loyal, and brilliant and... He would dare to say they were friends if it didn’t sound so incredibly ridiculous and pretentious of him to assume such a thing. He was her tactician, her strategist, her navigator and pilot… He had so many skills, so much to offer, and she provided him the opportunity to impress her with all of them. She could be the greatest Sith who ever lived...

And yet, she cooked for her crew. She shared her wealth and rewards with them. She never gave in to irrational bursts of violence. She sat up late at night and watched ridiculous melodramatic holos with Vette and now Jaesa. She listened patiently whenever his thoughts turned grim and never once betrayed him to the others…

Lord Tremas was a contradiction.

His fawning thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a last minute bulletin blaring from the holonet.

“We interrupt this report for a breaking news update. Preliminary reports from planet Balmorra indicate that Republic Jedi assassins working in collaboration with local terrorist cells have murdered the legitimate government causing planet-wide chaos and anarchy. Terrorist attacks on all Imperial holdings including the Balmorran Arms Factory have caused commanders to issue a planetary evacuation of all Imperial personnel. Currently, all infantry forces are regrouping in the capital city of Bin Prime for immediate extraction.

The first verified reports of heavy casualties have come in from the Imperial city of Sobrik, where Republic Terrorists deployed suicide bombers to disable the city’s artillery shield. Republic forces indiscriminately bombed Sobrik including the city’s spaceport, crippling any evacuation attempts. Sources on the ground report that as of 0900 local time, Republic terrorists and a cabal of local alien anarchists have begun executing innocent civilian survivors in the city square…”

Quinn stared transfixed as security footage of Sobrik filled the screen. The protective shield overhead was gone and buildings lay torn apart by carpet bombers. The streets were littered with the remnants of barricades and bodies of Imperials and Sith were strewn about. The same streets he had traversed for a decade were now gouged with burning craters. The image flickered and showed his old quarters torn asunder as though it were made of flimsiplast, its contents were charred and partially spilled onto the street like gutted entrails. As the holonet reporter spun the news into familiar propaganda, he caught a glimpse of a corpse he thought he recognized.

“…It is unknown if any personnel stationed in Sobrik survived the attack. A spokesman for Darth Marr could not be reached for comment but Imperial Military Communications has informed us the Empire has no plans to evacuate Balmorra airspace. The Imperial fleet will no doubt begin coordination for a counter-strike against the Republic Terrorists in retaliation for their illegal campaign-”

Malavai turned off the holo unwilling to hear any more. The display once again showed a passive map of the known galaxy, but his face was pale as he stared out at the stars without actually seeing them.

Sobrik had fallen. It shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t important. Imperial Cities fell and were reclaimed all the time, it was a part of war. For Emperor’s sake, he didn't even LIKE Sobrik. The city had been little more than a cage, or an experiment in cruelty designed to drive him insane. He’d moved past it, he had been lifted away from such a pedantic fate.

Memories rose unbidden as he recalled his torturous existence. Devoid of meaning, of purpose, he had trudged along through the years. More than once he had seriously considered the possibility of just ending it either by swallowing a blaster bolt or walking into a firefight with no intention of walking out. Denied the smallest shred of hope, Quinn had all but given up trying to reach for anything better. His mind had clawed for anything to stall the inevitable decay that surrounded him. In an attempt to fight off the stagnation he had memorized every step of the city. Every hidden corner, every shadow, every flicker of the shield above; he knew it all by heart. His memories of the oversized cage became laced with the grainy images of the city destroyed.

He got to his feet and put distance between himself and the holoterminal as though that would somehow save him from the crippling what-ifs tormenting him. He needed… something. A bottle of alcohol, a stim or five, at this point he was desperate enough for spice, anything to dull the pounding in his head.

Would he have been obliterated in the initial carpet bombing? After everything the universe had put him through, would it have granted him a quick, painless death or would he have had to die on the barricades? Would he have had to hold the line as smoke, ash and blood filled his lungs? Would he have died by an enemy’s blaster shot, or at the tip of a Jedi’s lightsaber or merely wounded and crippled? Would he have died on his feet? Or would he have suffered the indignity of having his his half-dead body dragged and mutilated him in front of an audience?

Nausea filled him at the thought. His entire life would have added up to another crimson smear on the Balmorran dirt.

Had the men he served with escaped, or had they been forced to endure the humiliation of siege and defeat before death? The faces and names of them all echoed around him, he hadn’t realized he memorized them all… Gods, even Jillins…

Guilt assailed him. Was he at fault? He’d been lenient with them, well, one particularly misguided idiot anyway. Had that snowballed into a credible threat? Had his foolish mercy and sentiment clouded his foresight to the Empire’s detriment? If he was not directly responsible, then indirectly. He’d allowed a resistance Doctor to learn Sobrik security protocols. He’d walked almost the entirety of the officer’s compound and then… he’d let him live. All that knowledge had been used against the Empire, he just knew it.

“Captain, are you well?”

He blinked and realized he had walked straight to his Lordship’s quarters. She was sitting at her work table tinkering with her lightsabers but had turned her full attention to him. Quinn stared at her unsure as to why he had made his way to her door and even less certain about how to explain himself. The silence drew on and he cleared his throat hoping it would somehow loosen his tongue.

“I thought… t-to inform you… Balmorra has fallen. Sobrik has been destroyed,” he managed to stammer out. Her piercing dark blue eyes seemed to stare into his very soul and he looked down unable to hold her gaze for long.

“Captain Quinn, are you well?”

She repeated the question slowly as though to get him to focus on what she was asking. All at once he felt a strange, irrational reluctance to answer. Of course he was fine! He was safe, millions of miles away from Balmorra. He was no longer enslaved to the place and for once his life was finally going right. He had a future, a career, a place where he belonged. He had never been in a better situation than this! There was no reason to lose his nerve! No reason to break down in front of the only person in the universe who didn’t think he was a complete and utter failure!

Why had he come here? What ruinous instinct had brought him here to expose the very fabric of his weakness before her?

His ice cold hands clenched to keep them from shaking and the leather of the gloves creaked with the motion. He steeled his resolve and looked up at her as he projected the image of a calm and collected Imperial Officer. He clasped his hands before him as he stood at parade rest, as though completely unfazed by the daily grind of running a war.

“It is a blow to our presence in the system, but I believe… Military command has things well at hand. Sobri- Balmorra is a loss but strategically the Empire can-”

His voice trailed off the moment she touched his hands. Whatever lip service he’d been about to give the military suddenly died in his throat.

She knew.

White-hot shame washed over him. Damn it all, of course she knew. She always knew. Tremas was a Sith, she’d have to be blind and dimwitted not to know.

“Quinn, are you well?”

He shut his eyes as his blood pounded too loudly in his ears. He felt naked and exposed under her perceptive gaze. He braced himself for ridicule or disdain and he simply nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak but she then brought his clenched fists up and began to coax them to open. He felt her warm fingertips on his bare wrists and his trembling fingers unlocked.

“Malavai, are you well?”

Delicate touches from calloused fingertips ghosted over his skin and his shaking hands instinctively clung to hers. Why was she asking? Why did it matter? Why wouldn’t she just dismiss him so he could have a nice quiet breakdown in private? His mind continued to resist, but deep down he knew the answer to all those questions. She asked because he mattered to her. Tremas asked because she cared about him. It was an impossible thought that he could not reconcile with the realities of the Empire’s hierarchy.

“No, my lord. I… I don’t think I am,” he finally confessed barely above a whisper. A lifetime of discipline forced him to brace himself awaiting punishment for his admission. It was a punishment that would never come.

In slow motions, she removed one of his gloves a finger at a time. Her warm hands cradled his ice-cold skin, slowly encouraging his circulation to flow. She held his trembling hand without judgement or scorn and his composure threatened to crack under the strain of his emotions.

He felt himself being led further into her quarters as the door closed behind him. Ironically the moment he was alone with her, a weight lifted from him. Lord Tremas was Sith, she should inspire fear and awe from mere humans like himself. But here alone with her, all he could feel was safe. It would have been pointless to compare himself to her. Of course she was stronger, faster, smarter, better than him. In her presence, he was allowed to be weak and irrational and foolish and…

“You’re brave.” Her voice silenced his insolent thoughts as she lifted his other gloved hand and carefully peeled back the soft leather so she could hold his hand. Her skin was so warm against his, it penetrated and thawed the ice that had settled in his bones. “You’re brilliant. You’re strong.”

“All things I feel I’m currently lacking, my lord,” he demurred but Quinn couldn’t deny her words had a settling effect on his emotions. The chaotic storm was growing ever more distant as his attention was focused on the Sith Lord gently kneading warmth back into his fingertips.

“You feel as though you could have been one of those soldiers,” she murmured and Quinn took a ragged breath.

“There was nothing- There is nothing special about me, my Lord. It has never been lost on me that my chrono ran out over ten years ago. I live, I continue to live due to your kindness and mercy,” he said as he focused on how good it felt to he have her hands around his. At his words Tremas’ face lit up with a gentle smile. A pleasant haze filled his thoughts and he wondered why he had ever believed Tremas would mock him.

“You always think so poorly of yourself, but you were wasted on that post,” she reassured him as she reached out to touch his face. He took it as a sign that the usual protocol between them was temporarily suspended. His hazy blue eyes blinked slowly as the worries continued to melt away. By now he realized she was actively settling his apprehension.

“You always think so highly of me, my lord… I strive to… strive to...” Quinn wavered as his eyes closed and he slumped forward into her arms. He sighed as he hugged her weakly and buried his nose in her hair. Distantly he felt as she rubbed his back and soothed away the remains of his panic attack.

“You're incapable of disappointing me, Malavai.”

A shuddering sigh spilled from his lips.

“I’m sorry… It shouldn’t matter... It doesn't matter… but I should have done… more… and I cannot shake the feeling...”

“You are not to blame for Sobrik’s fall. You matter Malavai. Stay tonight, I’ll prove it to you.”

[ronin-32]

Zulu-22

New Alexandria, Eposz, Reach

August 19th, 2552

2200 Hours LT

The rain pattered against the side of the falcon. The water ran down the propeller blades and onto the tarmac. It pooled around my boots and set the mood for the night. The different lights from the towers that sprung up from far below me reflected onto the wet rooftops, reflecting shimmering neon colors onto every surface. The massive fires from the fields of boiling plasma rippled in the distance. The cruiser that caused it floated calmly above. Clouds sailed around it as the dark smoke from the churning plasma turned the cloudy grey night skies black. I looked up into the sky, rain pelting my visor as another cruiser roared overhead, jetting over the massive city to the location it was ordered to glass. It swung itself broadside as it came to a halt twenty clicks out. The purple light on its underbelly growing brighter and brighter as it drew to full power, before releasing it in a shower of plasma that shook the ground and turned the sky to fire. I stood and watched in a horrified wonder. What chance do we have against something with that kind of power? I snapped to attention as our unit CO came up the wet stairs, his boots sloshing in the puddles that scattered the tarmac. Following close behind him was some ONI spook that we were here to evacuate to the Office of Naval Intelligence offices at the FLEETCOM HQ in Olympic Tower.

“Let's mount up, Kids.” The sergeant hollered as he approached the falcon. He pointed at me before yelling, “Cody, I want you on the port side fifty. Cover our take off from the east. Anderson, you've got starboard, covering from the west. I want to make it to Olympic tower in one piece, boys. You understand me?”

“Yes Sir, Sergeant!” I said hauling myself onto the falcons door gun.

As I sat down in my gunner seat after hooking my safety harness in I grabbed the bolt on the side of the machine gun and pulled it back letting it crack back into place, chambering a round. I looked up at the rotor on my side of the aircraft as it began to spin, shedding the water that had collected on it. The blades whined as they reached top speed, a ear piercing sound that would've been unbearable if not for the padded ears of my helmet. In no time the vehicle was airborne and we were speeding across the open airspace of New Alexandria. A city that was almost totally filled with fire from the constant plasma bombardments that the Covenant had so graciously gifted us with. Squadrons of Banshees could be seen gliding along over rooftops and sailing past the towering buildings. I sat in stunned silence as we traversed the black, smoke filled skies, watching the massive Covenant ships carve their way across the ground. I didn't hear Anderson yell contact, but the following gunfire of the fifty hammering rounds downrange sure snapped me back to the here-and-now. I turned in my seat to see the enemy forces that were engaging us. Two banshees had splintered off from a much larger squadron to deal with us. Anderson rained bullets on the two banshees and managed to drop the shields of one. The ships fired back, peppering the side of the bird, one bolt catching the ONI spook in the chest. Sergeant unbuckled himself as quickly as he could and rushed to treat the reeling agents smoking wounds. The two alien ships buzzed past us at remarkable speed and picked up speed as they shot out a couple miles in plain view of my side. As they were circling back for another run I opened fire on the ships the second they were within range, my bullets digging into the front of the one Anderson had been shooting at. Bullet holes sprung up all across the front of the vehicle as the ship erupted in fire and carened to the left sailing to the ground in a bright ball of purple alien fire. The other ship kept its course and lined us up more accurately. I realized what that meant, maybe a little too late, as the Banshee shot a glowing ball of plasma at our aircraft.

“Evasive maneuvers!” I yelled into my helmets mic. The pilot of the falcon banked the bird at a sickening angle that would have bucked me or Anderson out of the side doors had it not been for our safety harnesses. The Sergeant had managed to quickly pin himself to the interior of the falcon with his hands and feet so that he would not be tossed from the aircraft himself. The falcon shot towards the ground at breakneck speeds but the plasma bolt stayed on our tail, having locked onto our heat signature. I fired a couple of rounds at the Banshee which was trailing us, while Anderson shot at the plasma with little to no effect. As the bolt grew closer and closer the pilot yelled for us to brace as the missile slammed into the tail of the bird sending us pinwheeling through the air. The world spun past outside quicker and quicker as our falcon spun. Our Sergeant was flung from the aircraft out into the open air, not that he would’ve been able to hold on longer as we picked up speed. As we spun, dropping altitude quicker and quicker I picked out something in the small glimpses of the world the rushed by as we spun like an airborne top. It was a building that we were headed right for. I turned in my seat to yell at Anderson to hold on, but we collided with the glass and steel giant as I did, tearing my co-gunner from his position and ripping away our other rotor with the shrieking sound of metal tearing and shredding. Glass shards ripped at my fatigues and glanced off my helmets tinted visor, chipping away at it. The bird spun in place, jerking around as its still functioning rotor dug its way into the buildings interior and caught a crossbeam in the wall. It ripped and tore at the carpet, desks and the steel that made up the buildings interior. I gasped as my breath was pushed from my body as something hard hit me in the back. I doubled over, looking down at my stomach which had the new addition of a forearm sized piece of jagged metal that was freshly coated with crimson. I barely had time to react to my wound as the falcon jerked itself hard, throwing me from my seat as my harness ripped from the force. I flew up and smashed my head on the roof with enough force that without the helmet, I would have broken my neck. Now free from my death trap of a harness, the falcon’s violent thrashing tossed me away from the vehicle and deep into the offices that it was destroying. I crashed onto a desk in the middle of the room and landed on not only a rather uncomfortable PC, but the exposed metal that had punctured my stomach. I hollered as the metal ripped at my flesh and caused my bleeding to worsen. Without a second thought to my injuries I rushed to my feet, stumbling as I ran for the cockpit attempting to rescue the pilot. As I neared the cockpit window I could see the pilot was already dead, blood pouring from his mouth. Stunned I stepped closer to check just as the port side engine exploded engulfing the bird in fire and sending me careening back into yet another desk, landing on my wound, which tore even more at my insides. Slowly in a painful, lethargic state I reached into my survival kit in my pack and brought out my canister of biofoam to hopefully seal my wound as much as possible. I sprayed the can liberally on my chest and attempted to reach my backside, but only managed to cover some of it. I rolled onto my side looking at the bird in the hole in the wall.

As I lay dazed, my vision blacking I could see the damaged and plasma burned exterior of the falcon slipping from the building's ledge falling away into the dark cloud filled abyss below. Through the hole the falcon had made I could see another CSS Cruiser moving into place. Its main excavation cannon charging in preparation for turning its designated sector to a hardened slag that was anything but actual glass.

[hallelujuh]

shay’s favorite albums of 2017

didn’t commit to finishing this until the literal very end of 2018 but whatever fdjhfkjdsnfds

I’m not sure if it was my newfound willingness to explore new genres and artists, but I thought 2017 was a fantastic year for music. Plenty old favorites of mine released new albums this year, and I was lucky enough to discover a lot of music, both from new musicians and old. Here’s my top twenty albums of this year.

20. Divide by Ed Sheeran

19. Fin by Syd

18. Blossom by Milky Chance

17. I See You by the xx

16. Trip by Jhene Aiko

15. Good for You by Amine

14. Future Friends by Superfruit

13. Sacred Hearts Club by Foster the People

12. American Teen by Khalid

11. All We Know of Heaven, All We Need of Hell by Pvris

10. From the Outside by Hey Violet - While I originally only cared about this band because it’s composed of mostly girls, which is rare, I’ve grown to really love them as musicians. They’re very creative, producing catchy pop tracks that aren’t like most pop songs, and their debut album is fun as hell. Each song makes the listener feel badass and sexy and young, and you just kinda wanna dance and enjoy life. Favorite track: Tie between Like Lovers Do and Unholy. The former is distinctive and unique, and reminds me of Emilie Autumn, and the latter is incredibly well-produced and pretty visceral for a pop track by such a young band. 

9. After Laughter by Paramore - Continuing their previous album’s sound so that every song sounds like Ain’t It Fun, After Laughter has a gorgeous aesthetic, a memorable sound, and, notably, follows the trend of most emo artists of today - disguising sad lyrics beneath happy music, as made famous by Twenty One Pilots. Each song is catchy, allow the lyrics all leave you feeling a bit empty, but you’ll be dancing to misery. Favorite track: 26. I’m always a sucker for the one mellow song on an album full of bops, and that rang true once more. 26 is about reflecting back on how you’ve spent your youth, and it’s paired with a bittersweet simplistic guitar. Hayley’s vocals hold pain, but also gratitude.

8. Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey - I’ve been a huge Halsey fan since before Badlands even came out, when all we had was Room 93 and live versions of then-unreleased tracks. Though her evolving sound was criticized by some, I appreciated that HFK follows the formula so many other sophomore records follow, with the lyrics addressing new-found fame and how the artist is dealing with it, and also how they want their sound to be since they’ve already made it big. This record was clearly more hip-hop driven, with production that sounded heavily influenced by Kanye, but it felt fitting. Furthermore, HFK is the redemption arc to Badland’s heartbreak-themes. It’s really a triumphant album overall. Favorite track: Sorry. While 100 Letters is my most-played track and therefore a close second, because the simplistic beat allows Ashley’s lyrics to shine, and she’s a lyricist and a poet before she’s a singer - I believe Sorry is the quintessential song from this record. Her pain is so tangible in this stripped-down ballad, and it’s such a nice switch from her usual lust-driven upbeat songs. I always have respect for musicians who can bear their sleeve in such an open, honest way, and while Ashley’s always been vocal about her struggles, it’s still nice to hear such a heartfelt track come about even after all her success.

7. Dua Lipa by Dua Lipa - This young pop singer's self-titled debut is a catchy, passionate, and solid record that's earned her a well-deserved place on the charts and in people's playlists. The songs are rather cliched, recycled themes that I've heard from dozens of other young female artists, but there's some emotionally-charged pop ballads that show potential. Dua's vocals remind me of a raspier Ariana Grande mixed with a less-powerful Christina Aguilera. Seeing as those two aforementioned singers can over-do their performances a bit, I enjoyed this mellower newcomer. Don't get me wrong, Dua's unique in her own way, and she's hardly a copycat; but I'm worried her talent will overlooked because there's already others like her. Still, it was a solid album that I enjoy thoroughly, and I had multiple tracks from it on repeat.

6. Beautiful Trauma by P!nk - I've been a P!nk fan since I was very young, and this album was wonderfully nostalgic to me. P!nk's one of the few artists who's never been swayed by a need to stay relevant; she just makes the music she wants to make, and her fans love her for it. This record was, at times, a little generic beat-wise, but still distinctly P!nk. As always, she wore her heart on her sleeve and you can feel how personal every song is; how genuine every word is. It really pays off. Favorite track: Barbies - This is a song I think every girl over thirteen can relate to. I'm twenty years younger than P!nk, but this track really resonated with me. It was the only song on this record I listened to repeatedly. I think every girl wants to grow up as quickly as possible, but once you reach adulthood, you just want to be a kid again. You long for simpler times. The beautiful message of the song (enjoy your youth) is paired beautifully with gorgeous instruments (violin! cello! wow!), which adds a timelessness to the track.

5. One More Light by Linkin Park - Although most, myself included, were unhappy with the pop-driven sound of LP’s seventh effort, the death of Chester added a lot to how meaningful this album is. Listening to it now fills me with a hopeful nostalgia, in contrast with how I listened to it in the days following his passing. What once sounded like a cry for help that no one listened to, now sounds like a triumphant farewell. As usual, these guys put their hearts into the making of this record, and it’s a real bummer that it took Chester killing himself to make people appreciate that. LP is a master at their craft, regardless of what genre they’re feeling at the moment. It’s a solid album, full of truly heartfelt lyrics and Chester’s beautiful voice, and I’ve often found myself listening to it when I’m feeling down. It really helps. And that’s what LP’s music has always been about, I think. Being there for you when you feel like no one else is. This album still felt like that, even though it was through a different genre. They let go of the anger that fueled their signature sound in the beginning, in exchange for a more rounded, reflective take on things. I think that’s comforting, and beautiful, in a way no one seemed to understand. What’s better than someone making peace with the world? Alternatively, what’s worse than someone taking their own life because people didn’t want to see them get better? Favorite track: Talking to Myself. I watched this video the day it was released - hours before Chester’s passing was announced. I enjoyed the bass and the video made me smile. After I found out, and after a few hours of crying, I rewatched this video, and it meant so much more the second time. The song itself is a favorite because it’s such a fun track. The bass line is catchy as hell, and my favorite part of the song is the chorus following the bridge, where Chester does a powerful run and then briefly lapses into Meteora-style vocals (”you keep running like the sky is falling”). That bit is so profoundly incredible to listen to for me, and I’m glad he left us with it.

4. Revival by Eminem - I’m one of the biggest Eminem stans of all time, so I’d probably buy a record that consisted entirely of Marshall shitting - but in all actuality, though he could never disappoint me, I was prepared for the worst, and I was pleasantly surprised. This album felt more solid than MMLP2′s experimental sounds, with Em showing us he really hasn’t fallen off. His usage of words like “lit” and “shook” are admittedly a little cringey, and his take at a more modern sound on Believe (with a trap beat and a Migos-like flow) is questionable, but the lyrics show he’s just as on top of his game than ever. It’s not an instant-classic like MMLP - those days are probably over - but it’s a decent record with several damn good songs. (Edit, 12/2018: Bro I wrote this last year, what the fuck was I on dgfkjdgh.) Favorite track: In Your Head. While the most memorable tracks on this record are definitely the collaborations - my favorites being River with Ed Sheeran and Need Me with P!nk - this rather short track really stood out. I listened to the album for the first time on my CD player, without having looked at the track listing since it was released a few weeks back, so every song was a surprise, and when I heard O'Riordan’s vocals, I got very excited, since Zombie is one of my favorite songs of all time. Though the original song is about war, Em raps over the sample track’s bass line and signature guitar riff and speaks about the skeletons in his closet with a passion reminiscent of The Eminem Show and a flow taken from his Recovery days. The smooth transition to Castle is another nice touch. While his speed in the last thirty seconds of Offended is impressive (with Flight of the Bumblebee in the background! Ha!), this was the song that sold me on this album. It’s everything I love about Eminem. (Note: This was written before O’Riordan’s passing. RIP.)

3. Scum Fuck / Flower Boy by Tyler, the Creator - From the goofy poster boy of a generation of carefree and colorfully dressed punks, to an extremely talented and capable producer and musician, watching Tyler’s growth as an artist and a human has been extremely rewarding, especially as a longtime Tyler/OF fan. While Cherry Bomb failed to impress me in the midst of my emo-craze, I appreciated that it was a turning point in Tyler’s career. SFFB, however, successfully took me right out of my indie-craze. Flower Boy builds upon what Tyler tried to do on CB, and it works out much better. Watching his brilliant NPR Tiny Desk Concert only solidified this belief. Tyler’s a musical genius, and I hope more people come to realize it. Favorite track: 911/Mr. Lonely. The whole record is full of earworms - Glitter, Boredom, See You Again - and it’s truly a feat Tyler was able to pull that off. But I have to go with this single - both songs are catchy, the production is masterful, Frank Ocean and Steve Lacy’s voices are beautiful. Who Dat Boy didn’t particularly excite me upon first listen, but these two tracks did, because they reminded me how talented and incredible Tyler is.

2. DAMN. by Kendrick Lamar - My favorite thing about musicians is getting to watch them mature, both musically and personally. I’ve frequently compared DAMN to J. Cole’s 4 Your Eyez Only, as both records feature Jermaine and Kendrick discussing much more mature concepts within their albums. Kendrick’s always been grounded because of his upbringing, whereas Cole was a little more blinded by fame for the first few albums. However, since their respective last albums, Kendrick has gotten engaged, and Cole got married and had a little girl (EDIT: Apparently he had a boy!), and you can hear how these lifestyle changes have influenced their lyrical content, which is really nice to behold. Kendrick’s always seemed like a very intelligent person, with an understanding of the world many in his field lack, and this album highlights that beautifully.  Favorite track: Humble. While Love’s a personal favorite, Humble’s success reminded me of Control. I still remember the day that dropped - and Humble felt similar, as it was Kendrick reminding us that he’s simply on another level. The simplistic and almost grating beat excellently parodies every single rap song that’s on the radio these days, except Kendrick proves his superiority by showing us that the beat’s not the important part; the lyrics are. It’s genius, and I’ll never get over how iconic it is, honestly.

1. Saturation I, II, & III by Brockhampton - Because this remarkably talented new group released three new records this year, and I can’t pick a favorite, nor can or do I want to rate them separately, they easily earn this spot. With flawless and innovative production, refreshingly creative and intricate lyrics, remarkable versatility, and, best of all, a youthful individuality reminiscent of Odd Future circa 2011, Brockhampton is one of the best things 2017 has offered. I’ve grown attached to these kids, and I’m glad I’ll be able to see where they go and how big they get. Favorite track: Star. While Junky is the most impressive track, and Follow is my personal favorite, Star earns this spot because it’s the song that single-handedly got me into Brockhampton. The name-dropping bop is a good introduction to the band, as it features their signature memorably synth-infused beats, Ameer’s clever wordplay, Ian’s favorite thing to talk about (his sexuality) as well as his penchant for hooks and bridges, Merlyn’s loud and brash vocals, etc. I won’t be compiling a list of my favorite songs of this year, but if I did, this would easily make the top ten. It reminded me exactly why I love rap music, in a time when I was beginning to doubt hip hop.

honorable mentions

CTRL by SZA - Though I’d never heard of SZA aside from her feature on Consideration, this album was hyped immensely by Twitter, so I felt I had to check it out. Unfortunately I was disappointed. Although the album’s masterfully done, and I love the production and her voice, the lyrical content ruined it for me. Of course, this is personal preference, and she’s allowed to write songs about whatever the hell she wants to, but the nature of the lyrics were what kept me from being a fan. To each their own, I guess.

Everybody by Logic - I wasn’t a big Logic fan prior to 1-800. Funny story, actually - I thought he was entirely white, and I’m vehemently against white rappers. He's more like a biracial Kendrick, especially in flow on Hallelujah. The record continues the trend started by Bey’s Lemonade of celebrating black power and beauty, with Logic demonstrating a fresh, biracial perspective on it. Loved that there were actual instrumentals, that was refreshing, considering modern rap beats are often created entirely using synthesizers. Also love that Logic’s cementing himself as the Inclusive Rapper, and accepting that title proudly. Good for him.

I Decided by Big Sean - I’ve been a casual Big Sean fan since Finally Famous (2011), but he’s very rarely impressed me with his lyricism. This album showed that Sean’s matured and grown as a person and a rapper, but the songs didn’t leave enough of an impression on me to be featured on my list.

Lust for Life by Lana Del Rey - Although I’m sure die-hards were more than happy with this record, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I wish I could’ve. Lana’s sound hasn’t changed much, so I don’t think the quality of her music is decreasing, I just think my tastes are changing. This newer stuff hasn’t appealed to me nearly as much as her Born to Die/Paradise stuff did. I think 2012!me would’ve loved this record, but 2017!me was unsatisfied.

Melodrama by Lorde - I can always appreciate growth in an artist, but in Lorde’s case, I couldn’t bring myself to like the change. While there’s traces of the sound that put her on the map, and the music still sounds like teenage rebellion, it just doesn’t invoke the same feelings. It’s less grounded - and not in a good way.

Lovely Little Lonely by The Maine - The pop punk 1D continues to make catchy, solid tunes, but nothing about this record particularly stands out to me. Still, it’s a decent album from an underrated band.

extended plays

they’re too short to be included in my top albums, but i wanted to mention them anyway.

Caught Up by Sarah Close - I found this adorable Brit through her fantastic covers of popular songs, and thankfully I was subscribed when she started posting original music. Caught Up isn’t particularly unique, but the songs are fun, her voice is wonderful, and it’s a solid little EP.

Y.O.U by Dodie - I’ve watched Dodie’s covers for a while, so it’s nice to see she’s making original stuff. Love the style of it. Very excited to see what she puts out next.

dont smile at me by Billy Eilish - The fifteen-year-old, who sounds very similar to the recently-disgraced Melanie Martinez, may talk like an annoying skater boy, but her angelic singing voice keeps pulling me back in. I’m not used to talented celebrities being younger than me. It’s depressing. (EDIT: I spelled Billie wrong jdgdhf she’s in my top 10 artists of this year now too hahh)

Hard by The Neighbourhood - This band has been a favorite for four years now; I even saw them live for my birthday in 2015. They could never disappoint me, but their recent music hasn’t changed much to what long-time fans like myself fell in love with in the days of I Love You, which is nice to see, when so many other artists I used to like are experimenting with their sound in unflattering ways.

[ecotone99]

[SF] Gamer's Debt

"Crap, all I wanted was the gold chest so I can buy some extra lives. If I don't get any more extra lives, I'll lose all my gold when I die. How am I supposed to win if I have to pay for every damn thing?" Joden stepped down the ramp of his Blourgan cruiser and surveyed the alien landscape. It was barren except for the remains of a small village that he had just annihilated with a two-ton necro-missile.

"That's life. People are generally selfish, impatient, and insecure. Game companies use these weaknesses to motivate players. Maybe you shouldn't have blown up the village, is all I'm saying." The pilot of the cruiser, Jershamalama, spoke through his comm.

"But how does anyone get the hell out of this game if they can never win? I've been stuck in this hell hole for thirty days! My body’s back in the real world, rotting away.”

"Hey, you wanted to play, didn't you? Maybe if we travel to a non-npc sector we can trade off some of this junk we get every time we kill an enemy.” His pilot stared at him from the cockpit.

Joden looked back, “I feel like a slave. That garbage is only worth a pinto cent. It’ll take decades to get to the end game. And besides, that's if we can take off with all that junk. It'll take us a few hours to get back into the atmosphere. It's like a Fetch-22."

"You mean a fetch quest?"

"Yeah, something like that." said Joden taking out his cent-o-meter. It consumed his health bar as it scanned the surrounding sector. His eyes darted around his visor interface, looking at all the blips and bubbles that pinged. “I wish I could afford the Super Hyper Gold Jetpack that all the booster players use.”

“They only release that on the first Wednesday of every other month with a sign-on fee, an option to buy stocks in EternaEntertinament, a monthly fee, a mental evaluation, and maintenance fees when your able to grab it from one of the random places it spawns, like the Hell planet Infernum or the planet Madness Descent. Plus, I hear they only give you like a 3 second jump.”

“What?!” He nearly tripped over a crumpled alien body. “You can’t be serious. My mom’s going to kill me. I told her I was going to school. I figured I could just sign up for a few games, try my hand at Galactic Teamslayer, and be back at the rent-a-plex by nine. That was a month ago!”

“Relax. They won’t even notice you’re gone. Most parents have been sucked into this new thing called Binge Child Raising. EternaEntertinament created it too. It’s a simulation where adults can raise children and not have them become reclusive, angst-ridden failures. They’re really gouging everyone for money, real and fake, young and old.”

Joden was too focused on the horizon where a few blips were going off. They were purple, which meant that they were low-value targets. Everything seemed to be purple. “I never asked--how long you been here?” “You shoulda seen it when it was it first came out. The servers would never load and you had to sit there, in the darkness, watching a timer run out as they patched their simulation. It was like holding your breath under water.” The pilot sucked his teeth. “Hang on a sec. Have to rate the game again—after this ad.”

“Yeah, I hate doing this every hour.” The astronaut picked up a child’s toy from the clutched hand of a sloblarian. “Wonder what this is worth. I heard that we used to play with things like this, not just video games where you pay to win. Up, hang on a sec, got an ad playing.”

Joden’s reality changed. He was sitting on a park bench. A duck came up to him, honking and pulling at his pants. The countdown to the end of the ad appeared in his peripheral. It quaked and quaked until Joden threw down a few coins to skip it.

Back in game world he was still holding the toy. He threw it down with distain and a lack of remembrance for such physical trifles.

He was then asked to rate the game. He voted as he always had, giving it a one-star out of three. There was a chime and a message: “We’re sorry you’re not enjoying your time in our game world. Perhaps if you were more openminded and understanding of the fact that you may not always get what you want, you might have a better experience with our merchandise. Please lower your expectations. Thank you.”

Joden coughed to drown out the message he had heard a hundred times. “I’m so tired of game companies stealing from us. Don’t they realize that it’ll only make the game suffer?”

“Yeah,” responded the pilot, “let’s go steal something.” “I’m so tired, Jersh. I just want to go somewhere where we can kill an alien race and grind their bones into dust. What’s so wrong with that?”

“If you only knew, kid. On its launch the game world wasn’t even finished. Eterna used the gamers to construct most of the planets using the build-and-play incentive. Those gamers signed a contract that said that they had to make at least four hundred ‘products’ before they could actually the game. They called it the ‘fix-it-later’ release. The products they were referring to was one galaxy. Those designer gamers are probably still waiting…”

“Four hund--?” Joden held up his fist to the pilot, who had been watching from the ship’s windshield. “That’s extortion!”

“Welcome to the world. They get away with it because it’s a game world. You can do anything in the game world like gambling, murder, blackmail, forced labor, and forced sodomy. Nothing’s real so nothing matters.” The astronaut had disembarked about five hundred meters from the ship. Steam bellowed from its worn exhaust. “Why did you call me kid? How old are you? I mean I know you have the same avatar as me…”

“Age doesn’t matter either. Yeah, I couldn’t afford the customizations either.” Jersh tapped his helmet. “So, I guess we both have the same face.”

“And same weapons, gear, armor, boots, ships, weapon skins, and abilities.” He noticed a large oval blob on his visor’s HUD. It was moving closer behind a small series of stone pillars.

“Oh no, I have the blue-skinned Rigormortis rifle. It’s got this badass blue stripe on the side. Cost me 20,000 gold, 200 platinum, and 4 of my lifesaving’s accounts. If I didn’t have this stripe, I’d probably go insane or worse, color blind.”

“Shut up, dude. Something’s coming. I think it’s a surviving sloblarian. I hear they get angro really quick. I don’t want to die here, man. I never bought a 600-gold resurrection pack. It’ll take sixty days to load back in…” Jersh responded, sounding distracted, “You’re fine. Just cap it in the head or something.”

The purple blob was twenty meters away. If it wanted to attack it would have to come out into the open and charge him. He could tell there was movement but it was more restless than threatening. Joden took out his rifle and fired at the rock tower. The gun exploded in his hands, sending his obliterated fingers in multiple directions.

“Ah damnit! I forgot about the maintenance fee!” The figure bounded from the pillar and slunk slowly towards the enemy astronaut. It skulked across the yellow, Phallusian sand with its omni-dexterous flippers.

Arriving to the hunched-over human its tugged at his spacesuit and motioned for him to come closer.

“Gross dude, it wants to talk to me. What should I do?” The rounded head bobbed up and down like a rubbery ball. It seemed to be injured or at least miserable.

Joden heard distinct crunching noises emanating from the pilot’s mouth. “IDK. Step on it I guess.”

The polymorphous blob at his feet opened its crevice-like mouth and appeared to gasp for air. But it wasn’t gasping. It was whispering. He leaned down and listened.

“Dunk…prrray…Donk pppreeeey.” It was saying, and gargled as its lips flapped. “Doooonnk plllaaaaay. Chooose nut to pprraaaaay. Fyind sumting essl to do wilth yourg tyhme.”

“Oh, hell no!” shouted the man, as he squashed the creature’s face with his boot. It was like stepping on a water balloon filled with pebbles. He looked at where his hands used to be and screamed into the sky. “What does it all mean? Why do I always have to be punished! I’ve been in the same place for too long!”

"It's not good to live in a dream.” More crunching came from the ship. “You sometimes forget what life is like." Virtual blood splashed onto the dry dirt from his nubs. A few splatters mixed with the alien’s internal fluids. The reflective pool at his feet showed his avatar’s face, the same face of his pilots. He searched rapidly for any signs of wealth or material possession. There was nothing but ooze and viscera. Tattered cloth around the dead alien’s head was smushed and torn.

He turned toward the ship with a look of bewilderment. “How many gamers are trapped here? We can’t be the only ones. This game isn’t anything like what they advertised. They lied to us! Who would want to be stuck in this perpetual nightmare of pay-to-play, pay-to-build, pay-to-live, pay-to-pay mechanics?”

“I don’t think you get it.” The pilot was still eating.

“Companies do this to consumers because consumers let them. The general belief is that consumers are very smart but when’s the last time you heard someone say: ‘I won’t buy that because it goes against my code of ethics?’ None, no one’s ever said that. People like spending money. It’s in our blood. Its our nature to trust rich people. They seem to have all the right answers even when they don’t. They make the truths that we all follow. Besides, how could they get all that money if they had bad intentions.”

Joden used his character’s remaining strength to rush back towards the Blourgan cruiser. He felt a draft of air coming in the direction of the ship, and heard the engine roaring to life. “What the hell are you doing?” The mercenary vessel hovered three feet off the ground and its nose pointed at the runner. Its pilot could be seen through the windshield, “Sorry newb, you’re becoming to be a real downer.”

“I thought you were my friend!” he whimpered, his nubs heaving back and forth.

The ship elevated to ten feet. “None of us are really friends. We’re all just trying to make a living. And I need one more kill for the Slayer Award. We’re all just numbers.”

As he came to the plateau where he had disembarked, he held up his invisible hands to shield his face. “I just want to go home! I just want to go home.”

A cybersonic laser beam burst from the cruiser’s forward cannons. He felt the hot bathing light of the beam and then felt nothing at all.

“I can’t get out…I can’t…” He awoke in darkness. A screen appeared that read the same message he received hundreds of times, “You have died. Looks like you have low gear and feeble weapons. Would you like to buy a booster pack?”

“No.” he responded.

“A looter box?”

“No!”

He said the same words over and over before. The message continued, “You have elected to refuse game-provided assistance. This is a poor decision. In order to continue gameplay without using game-provided assistance please insert thirty-seven-point-one resurrection tokens.”

He wanted to cry but said, “I don’t have any.”

The automated voice paused and spoke again after popping up a sixty-page form. “Well that sucks. In order to continue please complete the loan agreement in front of you. The loan is for $6,000. Sign here, here, and here.” Joden lowered his shoulders and looked at his current debt. It read: “-387,000.” He breathed out, collapsing his chest, and grew red-faced. “No!” he shouted.

There was another pause and the form disappeared. For several moments there was darkness and silence.

“Very well.” The automated voice returned. “You have chosen reincarnation. Goodbye.”

“No!” he screamed defiantly. “No!”

Then, all of a sudden, he felt strange. He looked out through oddly-colored eyes. His hands had returned but they had three fingers instead of five. When he tried to speak, he could only gasp through what felt like a straw. The sand that he walked on grew hardened in his webbed feet. An alien girl danced toward him, carrying a toy. She hugged him with pencil-thin arms and turned towards the sky. Tattered robes fell along his arm and he patted the girl’s head. He looked up, to where the girl was gazing and saw a massive fireball break through the atmosphere. A necro-missile came out of the fiery plume, heading straight for their small, stony village.

submitted by /u/CyberwaveFiction [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2TlbQXo

[nathanorenstein-blog]

Twenty One Pilots - Trench

Twenty One Pilots - Trench

Release Date: October 5, 2018

Genres: Alternative Hip Hop, Alternative Rock, Reggae, Pop

Reviewing Trench by Twenty One Pilots was definitely a strange experience for me. There are very few bands and artists where my opinion of them changed so drastically. Before Twenty One Pilots blew up, I considered myself a massive fan. Vessel was on repeat for several months and I knew basically every word to every song. Blurryface rolled around in May of 2015, and I wasn’t really a fan, but I eventually forced myself to like it. I saw the duo live in October of 2015 and had an incredible time at the concert. However, as time passed, the band’s tragically annoying fanbase (nicknamed ‘The Skeleton Clique’) wore on me, and my love of Twenty One Pilots came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t until now that I finally returned to their music, and I tried to have an open mindset, although that was difficult at times. I revisited their albums before writing this review, and I found that there were a lot of shining moments, but mostly an abundance of potential. Vessel has many of the bands best songs to date, and Blurryface, although it admittedly had some rough song writing and overblown production, shot the band into the ears of anyone with a radio, whether they liked it or not. I was never a huge fan of the band’s debut, but even that self-titled record had some great songwriting that carried into their other projects. All of these albums eventually led to this one, Trench, and after a strangely silent three years, Twenty One Pilots have come back stronger than they have ever been.

Before I get into the actual review, I want to explain Trench’s narrative as quickly as possible, considering it is a genuine concept album. There is a fictional city named Dema, which is controlled by nine Bishops (Nico and the Niners). A rebel group, known as the Banditos, is working to escape the control of the Bishops, and to ultimately leave the city of Dema. The Banditos wear jumpsuits that are lined with yellow tape, and Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun are both members of the the Banditos. Nico is also Blurryface (from the previous album), which is basically the representation of Tyler’s insecurities. Leaving Dema and escaping the Bishops is essentially an extended metaphor for escaping your insecurities and being able to live how you want to live. There’s even more lore than all of this, and you can easily find a lot of fan theories and Reddit threads that go deeper into it all. If you’re interested in a learning more, but in a more enjoyable and accessible fashion, I would recommend watching the music videos for the lead singles “Jumpsuit” and “Nico and the Niners”. Hopefully that crude explanation of the album’s concept is sufficient because I’m moving on.

The most notable and all-encompassing improvement on this new Twenty One Pilots album is an overall sense of cohesion that can be seen in every aspect of the album. Although it might sound absurd, the album’s overall narrative actually works pretty well with the themes of the album. There are really only four songs that are truly devoted to the album’s narrative, those being “Jumpsuit”, “Nico and the Niners”, “Bandito”, and “Leave the City”. Aside from “Nico and the Niners”, none of these songs really force the narrative down your throat either. The lyrics to these songs are packed with metaphors, and they all happen to fall in line with the narrative arc. And although the rest of the songs don’t make any serious allusions to the story, Tyler Joseph's metaphor-filled songwriting has led to many fan connections and theories that aren’t necessarily far fetched by any means. The narrative holds up, and many of the songs support it well. It’s vague enough to keep much of it open to interpretation, but what is directly stated builds a solid framework for the story to work itself out in.

Keeping up with the theme of cohesion, the songs on Trench have solid structures that don’t jump around too often. The rapping has been dialed down a lot on this project, and though that may upset a lot of die-hard fans, it ultimately lends itself to smoother songs with cleaner structure. That’s not to say there isn’t rapping at all. “Levitate” is the best rapping that Tyler Joseph has ever done on a track, hands down. His flow is nearly flawless, and he honestly stands his ground among a hip hop heavy mainstream in 2018. “Neon Gravestones” is also rap-centric, but in a completely different way. My roommate told me that he thought it sounded like Hamilton (the musical), and I definitely agree. “Neon Gravestones” is actually a very important track, as Tyler expresses his discontent with modern society’s glorification of death and suicide. “Levitate” and “Neon Gravestones” are the two best tracks on the album (in my opinion), but I still think the decision to remove a lot of the rapping on the album was a smart and justified one. Tyler Joseph is able to convey a lot of different emotions through his voice, and that range is evident throughout this project. “Jumpsuit” contains almost childlike vocals from Tyler, which reflects the song’s themes of fear and protection quite well. His falsetto on the chorus of “Morph” is earcandy, and he uses it again on the incredibly peaceful “Bandito”. “Smithereens” and “Legend” both remind me of the older work of the group, and a lot of that can be attributed to Tyler’s signing. And I can’t even explain it, but something about his vocals on “The Hype” are just so addicting to me. The tracklisting here is littered with impressive showings from Tyler Joseph, and he comes across as a impressive singer here more than any other project, rather than just an introspective songwriter who happens to rap over alternative rock production.

In terms of lyrical content, Trench sees the band as much more optimistic and accepting individuals, rather than the emotional wrecks that we’ve seen on previous efforts. That isn’t to say that this album isn’t emotional, it’s just much less “emo” than before. “Legend” sees Tyler addressing the recent death of his grandfather, but his outlook on the situation is beautifully optimistic. “Leave the City”, the album’s closer, ends the albums narrative, but its metaphor shows Tyler accepting his mental health and he seems to have come to terms with living with it. “Smithereens” is similar to Blurryface’s “Tear In My Heart”, but sadly the ode to his wife comes off as cheap and simply unappealing. Tyler Joseph also writes about some new topics too. On “Chlorine”, he sings about the cleansing power of music (it’s not as cheesy as it seems), and on “Pet Cheetah”, he addresses the writer’s block that afflicted him while writing the album. “My Blood” is a simple, radio-friendly take on brotherly love, and its sincerity is tangible and powerful. The song topics across the album are fairly varied, and it keeps the overall effort feeling fresh all the way through.

In terms of the album’s actual musical composition, the album is much more reserved than the bombastic Blurryface. Twenty One Pilots is often seen as a genre-hopping group, which is just as often a detriment as it is something to be happy about. On Trench, they tone things down and iron out a lot of these musical inconsistencies. Sure, there are definitely hints of many different genres here, but the overall package is simply a solid pop record. Josh Dun’s drumming is consistently a highlight in the composition of each song, and the production is created in a way that almost seems to be built around it. “Jumpsuit” opens the album with a pounding bassline that comes in and out at the chorus, but it’s Dun’s drumming that carries the rest of the song and controls the build ups. The chorus of “Chlorine” exists in a open void with only a twinkling production effect and some mellow drumming to uphold it. A lot of the ukulele that made up several of the older Twenty One Pilots songs is now reduced to a supporting role, which honestly works much better. It’s used more consistently, and it supports the production better than it would have led it. The consistency throughout the album unfortunately leads to some stale production however. Much of this is due to tracks being too long with the production unable to hold it up. “Chlorine” drags on way too long for its own good as the final two minutes are completely unnecessary. “Bandito” has a really slow start with choruses that drag on too long, but it’s luckily saved by an explosive finale. “Cut My Lip” is sadly boring all the way through. The lyrics are boring, the production is boring, and everything just feels way too slow. Like the other aspects of the album I’ve looked at, the production is good for the most part, but it isn’t without its problems.

Overall, Twenty One Pilots have delivered a very solid record that is a good listen from front to back. Nothing here is that new, but rather they have built upon a lot of the foundation they have established in their previous albums. Much of the album is an improvement on the past, though some of the changes here don’t quite pan out all the way. Making Trench a concept album works surprisingly well, and it holds the album together in a strong way. The songwriting isn’t as emotionally potent as albums like Vessel, but the songwriting is still strong despite this. As a whole, Trench is definitely worth a listen, especially if you leave behind any previous notions you may have had about the band and its fanbase.

Best Tracks:

* “Jumpsuit”

* “Levitate”

* “Morph”

* “My Blood”

* “Neon Gravestones”

* “Nico and the Niners”

* “Leave the City”

Worst Tracks:

* “Smithereens”

* “Cut My Lip”

Final Score: Solid 7/10

[kidsviral-blog]

How Fueled By Ramen Has Stayed Relevant For 20 Years

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/how-fueled-by-ramen-has-stayed-relevant-for-20-years/

How Fueled By Ramen Has Stayed Relevant For 20 Years

The label, started in a Florida dorm room in 1996, is still thriving. Here’s why.

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Hayley Williams of Paramore. Frazer Harrison / Getty Images

Fueled by Ramen, like many record labels, started in a dorm room. Somewhere in Gainesville Rock City in 1996, a young John Janick shook hands with Less Than Jake drummer Vinnie Fiorello, and the hottest property in north-central Florida pop-punk was born. Its first clients? Ska-punk dilettantes The Hippos and The Impossibles, bands you’d only know if you, like Janick and Fiorello, were in it for life.

“We were operating out of a 150 square foot room, maybe less, with bunk beds and CDs, just running everything from my desk,” said Janick over the phone from Los Angeles, where he now lives. “I’d go over to Vinnie’s apartment to do mail orders. It was an interesting time, and maybe a little bit naive.”

Fueled by Ramen had its first major success when it issued the 1998 self-titled EP from an upstart group of Arizona kids named Jimmy Eat World. It sold enough for the still-fresh-faced label to buy its first office space in Tampa, and served as a sign of things to come. Eventually this Florida-bred, rude-boy indie label became a tastemaking stalwart. It’s where Fall Out Boy got famous, selling 250,000 copies of Take This to Your Grave over the course of two years. Gym Class Heroes and Panic! At the Disco would soon follow, and they remain signed to this day.

But shouldn’t Fueled by Ramen be dead? We’ve seen this story before. An era-defining label goes rags to riches with some smart business partnerships and a savvy A&R — swallowing up every hot act in the scene until their brand becomes synonymous with the genre itself. Replace the guyliner with MDMA or a couple bodies hung over hotel balconies, and it’s the exact same legacy of powerhouses such as Factory or Death Row. If there’s one thing we learned about iconoclastic, hyper-specific record labels, it’s that the gravy train doesn’t run forever. Suge Knight is bankrupt and locked up; The Haçienda is an apartment complex. By any reasonable estimation, Fueled by Ramen should be floundering, or downsizing, or absorbed — that’s just how these stories are supposed to end.

But that hasn’t happened. Fueled by Ramen continues to thrive. The old mid-2000s guard of Fall Out Boy and The Academy Is… have been cycled out for a younger, hipper, more dynamic generation of acts such as Twenty One Pilots and fun. That’s right, fun. — the band who won a bunch of trophies for Some Nights are signed to Fueled by Ramen. Paramore, the long-standing Hot Topic icons, tasted true, transcendent crossover success with their 2013 self-titled record, propelling their name into nondenominational pop radio, and scoring singer Hayley Williams a guest spot on Zedd’s “Stay the Night.” Gym Class Heroes are still getting on TV, your mom listens to Young the Giant — Fueled by Ramen’s current roster remains an influential modern rock record label.

That’s no small feat in 2015. Fueled by Ramen might never be able to escape its emo-pop peak, but you’d be hard pressed to come up with any imprint that’s been able to stay so relevant for so long. It’s managed it, in part, by becoming a subsidiary of Warner Bros., which earned the until-then indie criticism from punk rock purists. But that, like everything else Janick has built, was a means to an end.

“We wanted to make sure there weren’t any ceilings for our artists, while also keeping our culture independent,” said Janick. “There were other major labels filling artists’ heads with stuff like, ‘Oh you’re being held back by Fueled by Ramen, they don’t have the resources.’ For me it was about being an indie label with major ties, where we can build the foundation with a big company there to take you all the way.”

That environment is what resonated with a 15-year-old girl from Meridian, Mississippi, who was screaming her lungs off in a band called Paramore.

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Fall Out Boy. David J. Bertozzi / BuzzFeed

“I remember meeting with John at a Cheesecake Factory,” said Paramore frontwoman Hayley Williams via email. “I was with our manager Mark, and doing some acoustic shows at Taste of Chaos 2005. We talked about the scene and where I saw Paramore fitting into it. I was so happy to be hanging with a label guy who got it. He didn’t see me as some answer to Avril Lavigne’s success. He just always understood what Paramore was. Who we were. That sort of thing means a lot to a 15- or 16-year-old kid.”

Paramore would carry Fueled by Ramen’s banner for years, through the bloody triptych of All We Know is Falling, Riot!, and Brand New Eyes, three of the best albums mid-decade emo-pop ever produced. But then, around 2010, the bubble burst. Two-thirds of Paramore quit and looked for greener pastures elsewhere; Fall Out Boy, who had left Fueled by Ramen for Island, called it a day; and Panic! At The Disco were well past their crossover, VMAs-headlining peak. As far as era-defining labels go, this was par for the course. Eventually pop-culture fixation moves on, and the sound you’re known for becomes a lot less hip. But Janick adapted. In perhaps the most important signing in Fueled by Ramen history, he inked fun.

“I tried to sign Nate (Reuss) when he was 18 years old and in The Format,” said Janick. “But he went to Elektra instead. That was back when we were in Florida and didn’t have much money. Five years later we had the partnership with Warner and Nate was still in the Warner system through Elektra — I tried to work with him but he went off to do his own thing. But the third time around he had started fun., and we finally managed to get a deal done. He’s one of my closest friends now. They spent a year and a half figuring out what Some Nights is going to be, and it was one of the biggest albums of that year.”

Fueled by Ramen has kept an iron grip on a very specific part of the industry — from Jimmy Eat World to Fall Out Boy to Paramore to fun. — for its entire 20-year run as a company. It has shifted with the generations, while never alienating its core audience. It’s hard to think of a label that’s been more tenacious.

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Nate Reuss of fun. Kevin Winter / Getty Images

But then, at perhaps the height of its powers, in the moment where Fueled by Ramen proved it could keep up with everyone, Janick left. The primary entrepreneurial force of the company, the man who’d become an icon in the scene, who sat down at the Cheesecake Factory to sign Williams, was leaving his baby after perhaps its greatest crossover success yet.

Janick is now the CEO of Interscope, and working with everyone from Kendrick Lamar to Lady Gaga. For the first time in its history, Fueled by Ramen was out of his hands.

“I’m trying to keep the label moving forward, I’m trying to grow the label, but at the same time I’m always thinking about how John has built this amazing brand and all I want to do is not screw it up,” said Mike Easterlin, the current head of Fueled by Ramen. “You try not to freeze up and overthink everything, but sometimes you can’t help yourself.”

Easterlin worked alongside Janick for years, and got the nod to take the reigns of Fueled by Ramen in 2012. He seems appropriately aware of how daunting it is to become the adoptive father of a label with such a distinct legacy, but he also understands the way forward. If fun. proved anything, it’s that Fueled by Ramen is perfectly capable of transcending its kiddy, Warped Tour reputation.

“There was still this perception that FBR was a ‘scene’ label instead of a modern pop brand that’s had dozens of major hits,” said Easterlin. “The first one I encountered was with Young the Giant, who were on Roadrunner, and The Devil Wears Prada, who were on Fueled by Ramen. I thought, ‘Wait a minute, you guys should be switching,’ but I’d be lying to you if I said that Young the Giant didn’t have concerns. They still saw it as a scene label, despite the huge success of Paramore and the huge success of fun. I had to convince them that at this point what I wanted to do was grow the label up.”

A few months later, Easterlin asked Janick what he thought of the label’s progress. His response? “I’d be doing exactly what you’re doing.”

It’s a philosophy that’s best exemplified in Paramore’s self-titled album, which was the first album Fueled by Ramen released under Easterlin’s authority. Poppy, cheerful, and energetic, it was all the things you loved about the band, but now getting play on Clear Channel. It won a Best Rock Song Grammy over Jack White and the Black Keys, the first of Paramore’s career. After a decade of incubation, Paramore emerged lockstep in Fueled by Ramen’s new, post-Some Nights era.

“I tried to position it that way,” said Janick, reflecting on his last couple years at Fueled by Ramen. “I watched labels that were in a specific scene, and I don’t want to say they died, but they weren’t as relevant anymore because the scene they were tied to wasn’t healthy. For me it wasn’t about being a part of the ska-punk scene or the emo scene or the pop-punk scene, it was about being culturally important and transitioning in a way that felt natural.”

Throughout all this, the shifts in leadership, mission statements, and scene associations, Fueled by Ramen has managed to keep its core group together. Paramore, Panic!, Gym Class Heroes, even never-beens like Cobra Starship. In an industry that relies on turnover, Fueled by Ramen looks out for its own.

“We have a core group of 9 or 10 people who work here, and at the end of this year our artist count will total, like, 14 or 16, and that’s it,” said Easterlin. “We want everyone to feel a part of the family. There’s a band that we’re signing that said, ‘You guys all seem to really like each other.’ We’re brothers and sisters, we want a personal relationship with our bands, and because we’re small, we get to really, really focus on each of them. I’d like to think we have a very unique situation here.”

“There have been plenty of changes, and I know that’s pretty normal in the industry, but we’ve never had a reason to want to leave FBR,” said Williams. “We like the history that’s there. They have always believed in our vision for the future and they also know our roots. It’s having so many people on the team who we grew up with. We like the reminder of where we came from. It’s nice to share stories and say ‘remember when?’ with some of those people. Not to mention FBR actually have put out so many cool punk rock records and they’ve been a part of so many kids’ experience with the scene. Whether it’s someone else’s idea of punk or not, to me, the fact that two punk fans built a label out of their college dorm means something, and I’m proud to be a part of that.”

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/lukewinkie/fueled-by-ramen-feature