#shoutout to eden my beloved

[maplecherri]

shoutout to this old sketchpage because it has the best loid i’ve ever drawn. anyway yeah eden au my beloved i need to make more art of it. 

loid is an imperial scholar who gets into the occasional fight and yor is a normal student who has a few too many torturous bolts

[its-short-for-jackalope]

lol okay, hi.

i know ive been memeing about it tonight but i have some actual serious thoughts & feelings about Pulp Musicals rn so I'm going to ramble!

⚠️ This will contain spoilers for the first episode, The Great Moon Hoax !

Okay so one of my favorite, favorite songs in this episode is "John's Choice." (I will be listening to it on loop while I make this post.)

I love the whole song but I absolutely adore the part when Herschel is telling the crowd that the story is true. He adopts the phrasing that is familiar and easily recognizable after the "Great Astronomical Discoveries," we've heard, but now we hear it from his perspective, and my god it doesn't seem like it would do much but the shift in pronouns (he to I, his to my, etc) is SO impactful! (Especially when you're listening for the first time and you're expecting him to reveal the hoax like he'd said he was going to!) It gave me major chills the first time I heard it, and I still get chills every time. Every time.

Another bit that makes me go insane is when we get the line "I pointed it at the moon, our companion," and then the chorus/ensemble chimes in with "Always there, watching us, from Eden to Edinburgh. As we grow..." and then Herschel picks it up again with "As she glows," and he keeps going. But here it's the ensemble that gets me.

In "Great Astronomical Discoveries, Pt. 1" it's just Samuel and Rose singing those lines. Now, we're hearing the crowd singing them, and I think that's really cool and interesting. To me, it really reflects how it's a story that's grown and been passed around a lot, that people have been talking about it and telling each other. The crowd chiming in is like when someone interrupts to finish a story they already know by heart, or when people start singing along to a beloved song that's being played by a stranger in the street.

The crowd that's gathered at The Sun already know this story, and they start singing with Herschel because they already know all the words. It's not just his story—it has become theirs, too. And that just does something in my brain. Like.. it shows how much this story about the moon means to everyone, how important it is. (As Margaret says: "So many people have nothing to believe in...") They're so happy that Herschel is saying it's all real that they can't help but tell the story with him. And the way they whoop and cheer when he says it's true? That's beautiful.

...aaaaand also pretty tragic and heartbreaking if you think about the fact that we all know it really IS a hoax, haha oops, but we'll just not think about that right now, okay? okay. 😅

Of course, I can't ramble about my favorite things in this song without a huge shoutout to Curt Mega for his amazing singing. He puts so much feeling into this song in his roles as Benjamin and John. As Benjamin, we get to hear his vindication, frustration, and impatience, as well as his anger when his plan backfires. As John, singing about his made-up telescope, we can hear so much passion. Herschel's really trying to sell the story now, and I'd say he does a damn good job of it. (Sorry Benjamin!)

Basically, this song really lets Curt show off, and I am so grateful for that because my ears and my brain have been blessed. Thank you Matt, thank you Curt. 🙏🖤

now that I'm done rambling for the time being, I am currently in the middle of an art project that I'm hoping to finish tonight, so I'm gonna try and get back to that. If anybody else wants to add their thoughts, I welcome it!!! please, come experience brainrot with me!!!! :D

someday I'd love to make more posts like this (but hopefully better and more organized) so we'll see if that actually happens lol. I love this show so much. I wanna talk/write about it. 😍

[waterdeepp]

A\N: Written for one of my prison pen-pals to judge a break in scene, he is experienced and thanks to him, this piece of creepily accurate. I cut the ending short as that was not the main focus. Shoutout to Bob for helping me with this story, character development, and plotting. You’re a real one <3 

I have a pin board for my precious Silas <3 

The night was still, quiet. Predators were always out at night stalking their prey, just waiting for the moment to strike. The coyotes dug furiously at the rabbit holes to find a tasty bite, the salamanders snapped up flies, and the ferocious gators stalked a young wild hog. It strayed away from his mother and now would learn the price of walking alone in the dark

Much like that hungry predator, Silas watched - slowly waiting for the right moment to strike. He breathed deeply, the rush was almost making him dizzy. But he remained focused and steady. He brought a pair of binoculars to his piercing eyes, the deep brown hues stared into the window. There was a leap in his chest, going down into his stomach. He felt like he was about to jump off the deep end and never come up for air. He didn’t deserve the fresh, God-given air. If he were to fade in and out of consciousness, he would be happy if God were the one to cut off his airway. He craved death, an unquenchable desire for the blood of the wicked; and he was the wicked one. A capital punishment by the Lord himself, only to be resurrected by the Devil. He watched the man walk into the bedroom in just his boxers. He felt the need to lower his gaze. Silas put the binoculars in his bag before dropping the bag down from the tree. He blended in perfectly with his all-black get-up. “God give me voice, God give me strength, God give me the fury of your wrath so I may become your hand, your harbinger of death.” He recited to him himself over and over again. “Protect me from all that is evil so that I may walk the path.” He dropped his bag from the tree before letting himself down, slowly letting himself go with the thick branches. His body was stiff from sitting up there all evening. His heart was pounding, he swore he could hear the blood in his ears. Silas grabbed his bag and trekked into the field of lemongrass. The alligator moved closer to the hog. Silas moved like a panther through the tall grass, his long legs glided through with ease and grace. When he got close to the house, he reached into his bag and pulled a glass cutter from his bag. He rolled the wheel under his gloved fingers. Clad with the night, Silas, just like the snake of Eden, slithered to the backdoor. He gently turned the handle only to see it was locked. With ease, he peered into the kitchen window close by. He peeked inside, the house was empty, dark, lonely. He rolled the glass cutter along the edges of the window, the scratching was louder than he would have liked but it would have to do. He applied steady pressure going all along the edge, cutting corners sharp with dangerous precision. When he made his way over every corner, he reached into the bag again. He dropped the cutter in there and replaced it with 2 high powered suction cups . He twisted them against the glass and gave an ever so gentle tug to make sure they were stuck. He shimmied the glass until the corners loosened and he pulled the cut glass out. He removed the cups and left the glass against the house. He grabbed the bag and entered the window like a creature of the night. Silas crept through the house, slowly, surely. Sweat formed at his brow, he was eager for the kill. He felt so angry, a fury like no other, a rage so chaotic and violent. He cared not for salvation; he only wanted a reckoning. The alligator inched closer to the young hog, a low rumble escaping its throat. Silas opened the door slowly, taking one step into the bedroom. His jungle boot landed softly on the ground, each step bringing him closer to his target who slept in his bed. The room turned into a Viet Cong camp, the dressers turned into burlap bags of sand, the floors wet, soppy trenches, the walls an open jungle where only the trees could speak and see. He pulled his weapon of choice out: a stun gun. He crept to the man’s bedside and jammed it into his neck. Silas held the man’s head against it until the thrashing stopped. The hog was snatched, a loud squeal echoed through the swamp but met with no sympathy. “Fuck,” he groaned to himself. A smile was painted on his face. The attacker pulled 6 zip ties from his pocket and bound his hands, 2 for safe measure. He did just the same to his feet. Silas flicked the lamp on and saw his victim in partial nudity, a pair of boxers lowly resting on his narrow hips. Silas threw his head back in laughter. “I hope you’ll enjoy the company of your new friends, Mr. Eisenhower.” Silas threw him over his shoulder and carried him close to the swamp. The ground was still firm enough to stand steady. His bag had a wicked selection of weapons and did Mr. Eisenhower have quite the surprise waiting. Silas reached in the bag to reveal a razor-sharp machete. The moonlight shone down on him in beautiful terror. His excitement grew and he was more than eager to feed his reptilian friends. “God give me voice and God guide my hand.” He ran the tip of the blade along his bare chest, he watched the muscle twitch. “I want to watch you squirm, you vermin,” Silas muttered sharply. The thousands of eyes of Ezekiel grew on his back and his head began to spin like the wheels of the angel. “I want to watch you die. I want to hear you scream. I’ll bleed you in this fucking yard.” With a fell sweep, Silas gave him a wicked slash over the belly. A horrified scream filled the sky. Words were illegible, Silas only spoke in scripture. Silas let his fury out on his unwilling victim. He slashed deep into his skin, watching the river inside him run red. Again and again, he beat into him, ripping and tearing out of his rib cage. His hands gripped the handle, his knuckles turned ivory. The tip of the blade was stuck in the middle of his chest and it took all his strength to rip it out. The man bellowed, crying at the very top of his lungs. He tried so hard to escape his plastic prison but with all the blood he was losing, his efforts became futile. Silas let himself go in a fit of rage. He kneeled down beside the man and held his face tight. “The only thing I hate about killing you is that I can only do it once.” Silas was too unhinged to know the man had passed. He seemed to run on autopilot. He cut the ties and spread the man’s arms and legs. Again, a fell swoop of the blade and his arm was severed, then his legs, and soon... his head. 

 Silas threw his limbs into the swamp for his beloved friends who soon swarmed the edge. He watched them carry it to their cave deeper into the swamps. The head was left, only it too was slashed and mangled. He held it by the hair before shoving it in his bag. "God forgives all, God forgives..."

God forgives...