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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

Leave before you love me--sebastian stan oneshot

a/n: This scenario has been in my head since I heard this song. Might be a little on the rusty side as I haven’t written in a while and I’m trying to find the groove for writing for Sebastian!

Warnings: drinking mentions, party atmosphere, slight banter, a very lightly mentioned age gap (reader is 25) and he is his true age, heavy 80s inspired theme, angst, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.9k

Feedback is always welcomed and I’m trying to get in the groove still of writing him

Enjoy! 🙂

***

The highway lights flash across his windshield as he zooms by on the road, they’re the last remaining stars in the sky. The bright yellow-orange sun is just about peeking above the horizon and he pushes on the gas, the small orange needle ticking closer to ninety.

His favorite 80’s playlist blares through his speakers and out of his windows, the techno beat of Sunglasses At Night reverberates through his sound system. The wild wind tousled his hair but it cools his body down and slowly takes away your warmth. He taps his thumb on the wheel as he curves with the bend, the lights up above flicker out one by one as he passes by.

Sebastian’s trying not to think about the red marks from your nails that still have a slight burn as he rubs against his driver’s seat. He tries to breathe in and out through the thin of his lips because he can still smell your perfume on his shirt.

He glances at the clock above his screen and he’s right on time which means you will be awakening soon. Sebastian is always consistent.

He rubs at the back of his neck trying not to think of your bare legs peeking out from your sheets, the only thing that covers your skin.

One more twist and the lights have all timed out and your name flashes across his screen, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He always sees you calling and it’s always at 5 a.m when he’s more than halfway away from you.

He’s consistent with his poor timing just as he is consistent with crawling back to you. He accelerates to 100 mph. The revving of the engine mimics his lasting hunger and desire for you but he swallows it down and ignores your call.

It’s not that he wants to leave you. No, it’s just that he can’t stay. There’s a difference. Right?

He pulls into a parking spot at a twenty-four hour diner, the open sign flickers intermittently. He doesn’t get out of the car until your name disappears and the bell jingles as he pulls on the door. There’s a small group of people in the corner huddled together that are still in their club outfits, make-up smeared under their tired eyes.

It reminds him of his own party days, he knows they haven’t slept. Sebastian nods to the woman at the u-shaped counter before he slides into a booth. The waitress approaches with a cup and a full pot of coffee.

“Sugar or creamer?” She asks popping her gum as she pours the steaming liquid in the bronze mug. She’s chewing strawberry gum.

“Neither, thanks,” he huffs.

“Breakfast?”

“Just the coffee,” he shakes his head and looks up at her. “Thanks.”

“Holler if you change your mind,” she nods then traipses her way towards the young group to refill their coffees.

Sebastian lifts the mug and blows carefully over the top of it, the steam rolls over the opposite lip before he takes a drink. The bitter taste feels good on his tongue and wakes him up slightly. He’s not far off from the party group across the way, he hasn’t slept since taking you to bed last night.

He knew beforehand that you’d be there and he kept promising himself that he wouldn’t take you home. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t be hooked by your eyes or your charm. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t repeat this thing you two have.

It was a mutual friend of a friend that you both know hosting a party that was 80’s themed. On his way he made sure to play his 80’s playlist so he’d be in the right state of mind to participate. He didn’t really dress up too much, just some dark wash jeans and a leather jacket. A leather jacket you fashioned for him with your matching red lingerie set.

Sebastian repeats his promise, his swear, and his vow to himself as he crosses the threshold and is thrown into a swarm of 80’s dressed people. There’s wild hair and bright colors as he moves through the crowd towards the pool, that’s where the makeshift bar is stocked with alcohol.

He subconsciously looks at each face hoping he doesn’t see you--or does he?

Chris, as always, is the bartender whenever there’s a party. He claims it’s his calling at parties to make drinks and chat up new people.

“There’s my guy! Whisky or tequila tonight, buddy?” Chris holds up each bottle of alcohol respectively.

“How about rum and coke?”

Chris lifts his eyebrows in surprise but dutifully proceeds to mix the desired drink. Rum and coke goes down smoother and doesn’t leave him with a splitting headache the next morning or gut rot like tequila does.

It has no relation at all to you preferring rum. Absolutely not.

“Have you seen her yet?” Chris asks, handing his best friend the red plastic cup.

Sebastian finds humor in this, they’re all adults and can afford actual glasses for everyone, and yet they’re supplied with red solo cups like a college house party. He glances around and is pleased to see a beer pong table is set up near the shed where a group of people are playing and cheering.

“Nope. Have you?” He takes a ginger sip testing the taste. It’s mixed well so he swallows some more.

Chris folds his arms and shakes his head.

“No. But I know she’s invited so you two better behave.”

“I will,” Sebastian nods, “I’m going through a three step guide in my head. I’m all good.”

“Yeah? What’s the percentage of it working?”

There’s a collective shout of your name behind him and he cranes his neck to see you being lifted in the air by the mutual friend of a friend you two share. You’re at the beer pong table and apparently you made the winning shot.

Sebastian looks away before he can really get a good look at you in your outfit but the flash of your skin flickers in his mind. He meets Chris’ eyes.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Sebastian does a good job of steering clear of you. His three step guide that he made up seems to be working but the more rum he drinks he gets them a little jumbled. He just took a shot with some guy he’s been talking to about cars when he feels a light tap on his shoulder.

“You’re supposed to dress up.”

He nearly chokes on his shot at the sound of your voice. Sebastian places the shot glass a little haphazardly on the table before turning around and he groans at the sight of you and Tom Jones’ voice is singing ‘She’s a Lady’ over the sound system.

You’re in high waisted jeans, a ruffled white bandeau and black suspenders that cling to your bare stomach. Your hair is styled in high volume and the lipstick you have on is so red he wonders if it tastes like cherries.

His eyes drink you in and land on your red nails that are placed on your waist, he takes in a deep breath before traveling back up to your eyes.

“I did dress up.”

“As who?” you scoff with a laugh taking in his own outfit. He notices how your eyes linger on the jacket.

“Leather jackets were very fashionable in the 80’s. The whole...rocker look,” he waves his hand off dismissively. “I should know.”

“You wore a lot of leather jackets as a toddler?” you snicker. “It was jean jackets and big hair.”

“And how would you know? You weren’t alive then,” he grins.

“I do my research,” you shrug. “And the 80's are coming back.”

“Well, who are you supposed to be?” he turns as you pull a can of Mike’s Hard Lemonade from a cooler, it’s strawberry lemonade. He holds his hand out expecting you to ask for help to pop it open but you open it yourself and toss the bottle cap onto the table.

“You’re joking, right?” you take a smooth chug of your drink.

“Are you portraying what a young woman in the 80’s would wear to a party?” he guesses taking in your outfit once more.

He promises not to...what was the first step again?

“I’m Kelly Kapowski,” you sigh with an eye roll then they widen at his vacant expression. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Saved by the Bell?”

“I don’t watch much tv. Does she look half as good as you do in this outfit?” his eyes drift over you once more.

He swears he won’t….what was it that he swore he won’t do?

“She looks better actually.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirks and you shake your head. “How’ve you been? Sorry I left early that last time we were together. I had an appointment that I forgot--what’s so funny?”

You’re laughing at his ramblings of the last time you spent the night together and he left at 5 a.m before you even woke up.

“I know you’re an asshole, you don’t have to cover it up with excuses,” you snicker then pull the neck of a rum bottle up from behind the counter.

“I am an asshole, aren’t I?” he watches you pour the drink into two shot glasses.

“Yeah you are. Shall we cheer to that?” you lift up a shot glass to him.

“Sure,” he laughs.

You clink glasses then swallow the shot in one go. He watches you while he takes his and smiles at the way your body shivers from the pure rum, and he’s zeroed in on your lips as your tongue swipes up the remaining rum.

The night continues with you two playing beer pong and winning three times consecutively. You’re touching his arm and leaning on him while you banter with your opponents. He gets a little mesmerized when you hold your hand behind your back as you take your shots and how you toss your hair back before each throw.

When you swat at a ball, you bump the table and he catches you by the waist so you don’t topple to the grass. You’re both giggling and he feels how cold your skin is.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs in your hair, his fingers rubbing against the goosebumps on your stomach.

“I’m pleasantly warm and drunk.”

“You have goosebumps.”

“That’s because you’re touching me.”

Your eyes meet but before either one of you could say something else, you’re being called back into the game.

Sebastian ends up making the winning throw and you exclaim in joy then jump into his arms from the excitement. He laughs and spins you around in victory.

“Woah! No spinning or I’ll throw up!” you shriek in laughter and he stops abruptly.

When you’re bored of playing the game you take his hand and drag him inside to the makeshift dance floor. Your bodies move together as Queen plays and Madonna. Then when ‘Hungry Eyes’ comes on, your bodies are flushed together.

You’re dancing on the edge about to take it too far than you both know you should. His hips move against yours in a way you know all too well and you’re looking at him with those damn eyes of yours. Your eyes always mess with his head. He stops his hips then cups the back of your neck pulling your lips to his.

You kiss him back and he’s shocked at the taste of strawberries and not cherries but it makes him kiss you with more fervor. Your fingers slip into his hair as you continue to kiss amongst the crowd. He feels his head clear as your lips move with his, your body pressed against every inch of his.

“Want to get out of here?” he mumbles in your ear and you nod.

He’s always so good at knowing when to leave the party and he doesn’t care who notices. It’s a known fact that you two show up separately but inevitably leave together. It’s a habit that never breaks.

Back at your place, you fumble with your keys as he kisses your neck and his fingers are teasing the lower part of your stomach. You crash through the door in a tangle of arms and legs. He kicks the door shut and captures your lips in the same movement.

He moves through your darkened apartment like so many times before and makes sure to watch for the door handle. He’s bumped his hip too many times in the past. You make quick work of yanking his jacket off just as he snaps your suspenders from the clips.

You gasp when he suckles on your neck, his hands hot and needy on your waist and stomach. He always remembers how much he misses you when you’re together like this again. When he wants to touch you in a certain spot you move your body so he can before he gets a chance to voice it. You’re never afraid to tell him to keep doing whatever it is he’s doing and the noises you make?

You unclasp the frilly white fabric and Sebastian is quick to cup your breasts in his hands and attach his mouth to one of them. You hum in response, carding your fingers through his hair as his tongue rolls and swirls over your bud in a tickling fashion that twists your stomach in knots.

You back up until you fall onto the bed together and he removes his clothes while you shimmy out of your jeans.

“Wait,” he stops your hands from pulling your panties down, his hands over yours. “Let me.”

You smile and let him take off your last article of clothing. He leaves open mouthed kisses up from the curve of your knee, up your thigh and stomach. His tongue leaves a trail between your breasts and you feel him against his thigh.

You moan and he takes himself in his hand, ready to guide himself inside you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you gasp breathlessly and he stops his movements quickly.

“Are you okay? Do you feel sick or need water?” he asks, cupping your cheek in his hand.

Your hand covers his, your eyes steady on him.

“I’m okay. I want this--you, always but…”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t leave tomorrow?”

Your request is simple and staring at you now he’ll fulfill anything you want. He nods and a faint bell of a promise rings in his ear. Was this what he was trying to remember earlier? The promise of not leaving you?

You lift your head connecting your lips and he swears he’ll keep this promise just as he sinks into you. Your moan is so sweet and you fit around him so perfectly it makes his body shiver slightly. Just like on the dancefloor, your bodies move rhythmically and the faster he moves the louder you get.

Your nails make large arcs in his back as you orgasm twice. You’re panting his name, your nails falling slack against his sweaty back.

“So good for me,” he pants, dragging your hands up above your head. He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you. “Got one more for me, baby? Hm?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already feeling your stomach twist at his words.

“Yeah you do, you’re such a good girl for me,” his hips start to move at a quicker pace again. Your mouth opens in pleasure as he hits the right spot. “Always so good for me.”

He watches you come for a third time, your moan long and sweet and then you’re snatching his hair in your fingers. You bring his lips to yours frantically.

“I want you to come for me,” you whisper. “Wanna feel you.”

He groans at your words and licks into your mouth, thrusting as fast as he can chasing his own release. You moan along with him and then he pulls out and his body pulses. He tastes strawberries.

Sebastian has his face in his hands as he remembers the swear, promise, and vow he made to himself and the one he made you. He broke all four including two hearts. He’s doubled over in the allotted strikes.

After being together last night he cleaned you up and got you some aspirin and a glass of water. You rolled over and fell asleep in seconds and he stayed up the whole night forcing himself to stay. He stared at the ceiling chasing his thoughts and then when you rolled over cuddling into him he almost fell asleep.

When the birds started to chirp that’s when he slipped out from underneath you and put his clothes back on. He noticed the goosebumps on your legs and covered you up then kissed your forehead with a whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

You deserve better than him and that’s why he leaves before you could love him. If he stays he’ll never want to leave and that’s dangerous for his heart and yours.

His phone buzzes again but this time it’s a text message from you.

Delete my number and if you see me at a party, don’t approach me. I’m so over this Seb. This is the last time you break my heart.

He should feel relief that this is the end, but he only feels worse. Why couldn’t he just stay?

********

taglist: @cxddlyash @calumance (tagging you because you let me scream about ideas)

#sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan writing #sebastian stan fic #seb stan fic #seb stan oneshot #seb stan angst

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years

Text

Yoo! I’m back in with an 11 Chapter (subject to change) story. This was made for the TWB Fic Flip, unfortunately I wasn’t able to finish the whole thing by the deadline, but chap 1 is out.

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

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Techno Blade strode into the old gas station on the corner opposite the local mall. He winced at the harsh fluorescent lighting that welcomed him in from the crisp evening air.

He lowered his hood and ran his fingers through his short pink hair. His roots were coming in, he’d need to grab some dye as well tonight. Taking off his backpack, he began placing items in--trying to fit as much as possible: beef jerky, canned peaches, chocolate bars, a couple energy drinks a pack of Tic Tacs, and some box dye from the ends of the isle.

Techno glanced at the cashier. He liked when Tango was on shift; that guy didn’t give a shit about anything and cared more about Clash of Clans than whatever thievery Techno was doing whenever he came by.

“You plan on paying for that stuff?” Tango shouted across the room, still immersed in his game. “You know I don’t get commission if you steal it?”

“Of course!” Techno called back. He snorted to himself, it said a lot about his life that he and the cashier could joke about him stealing from the store. Techno grabbed another bag of beef jerky, slipping it into his steadily filling backpack. He heard the ding of Tango opening the till and the sound of coins splattering on the counter. “For Tommy,” he muttered, reminding himself why he was risking a criminal record.

There was an emergency exit he knew he could use down by the bathrooms. Techno studied the monitor that was supposed to display feeds from the four security cameras, but those were still busted from when those college seniors ransacked the place the week prior. Four different static patterns danced back at him. At least that would make his escape easier, not that Tango couldn’t point him out in a line up.

He grabbed a pack of gummy worms and put them at the top of his bag. “For Tommy to share with his friends.” He smiled to himself. Gosh he was going soft for the kid.

“Get down!” The front door was kicked open with so much force that the previously fractured glass shattered upon impact with the wall. “Hands where I can see them!” a male voice yelled.

Techno didn’t do that, his confrontation response telling him to stay put and out of it rather than submitting. Instead he crouched down and leaned his back against the aisle shelves, peaking out towards the counter. There were two guys pointing guns at Tango; one was ginger, black jacket, medium height, orange bandana peaking over his collar; the other was taller, but he was also less confident in his stance, blond, and he was wearing a purple sweatshirt--one that Techno was certain he had seen a thousand times before.

“Guys guys,” Tango said, trying to placate them. “I’m in the middle of something. Can this wait?”

“No. No it can’t,” he voice said again, clearly put off by Tango’s causal demeanor.

“Really? Cause I gotta get back to my Clan War…” he trailed off.

“Aren’t there more important things than a Clan War right now?” a new voice asked.

A voice that Techno recognized. If he thought the hoodie gave it away then the voice was the nail in the coffin. He let out an involuntary “Why?” before he could stop himself.

All three heads turn to him. “Like I said, in the middle of something; there’s a customer here.” Tango spoke slowly, as if the situation was finally dawning on him.

The ginger turned his gun towards the store. “Show yourself!” he demanded.

“Isn’t this place a little low profile for Las Nevadas?” Techno tried to joke. Eyes darting towards the door, Techno put his hands up. “I’m just shopping.”

“Not you’re not.” Fundy Soot smiled menacingly. “We’re doing a robbery, if you couldn’t tell. Take what you need and scram. Don’t call the cops either.”

“Got it.” Once Fundy turned his attention back to Tango, Techno grabbed a pack of M&Ms and shoved them in his backpack as well. He leaned down to zip it up, before tossing it over his shoulder and snagging a tube of toothpaste on his way out. Sue him, he needed a refill.

Techno carefully stepped over the shattered glass, and made his way out of the building. He regretted leaving Tango to deal with the gang, but sometimes he needed to put himself first. Always. Always put himself first. Techno vaguely wonders if he’s ever actually bought anything from this gas station.

“It’s immoral to steal,” yet another voice from the left side of the door called.

Techno whipped around and took in the man next to him. Techno first took notice of the red fabric folded neatly into a handkerchief pocket: a bandana. “You with those guys?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”

“Then why aren’t you calling this in?”

“Why aren’t you?” the man countered.

Techno gave him a sarcastic look, the sides of his mouth twitching in displeasure. “Because the guy with the gun told me to run, so excuse me.” He pivoted to make his escape.

“Say I said I was with those guys,” he said before Techno could make his escape. “What would you do?”

“I would assume you are Wilbur Soot. Brown trench coats and fluffy hair are the signature look of that guy. Looks like you’re watching over your brother and the new kid.” He shifted uneasily on his feet, ready to bolt. “Las Nevadas, saw the marker, figured it was polite to ask.”

Wilbur nodded, a gleeful smile taking over his face. He held out his hand. “Gimme the bag.”

“I need this.”

“Give it here.”

“Please,” Techno said, taking another step closer to his car. “Why do you need to take my stuff? You have two guys in there with guns.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Wilbur opened his palm, getting impatient. “I just want the M&Ms, kid.”

Techno glared at him, but he nonetheless opened his bag and handed them to the man. At least he could keep everything else in the bag.

“Thanks.” Wilbur ripped open the packaging and tipped his head back, sliding half of the bag into his mouth.

Techno took a tentative step back and waited a second for Wilbur to wave him off. “Hope Tango’s okay,” he muttered to himself on the brisk, stiff walk back to his car.

He threw the bag into the passenger seat and rested his head against the steering wheel--trying to slow down his beating heart--for thirty seconds before remembering that there was a robbery taking place ten meters from him, and he did not want to deal with the police.

Techno snorted to himself, and turned on the engine. As if he hadn’t gone in there with the express purpose of stealing.

He sighed deeply as he took stock of himself. He didn’t get shot--which was great. He also had a lot more food to add to his stash. His and Tommy’s stash.

Techno groaned out loud. Tommy. The person in the purple sweatshirt was definitely the kid’s friend Purpled and now he was going around robbing gas stations with Las Nevadas. “Why? It could have been anything else, but no: he just had to go and join a gang.” Techno slammed on the gas pedal more than was necessary. Techno parked his car a couple streets away from his foster home. He waited for a few minutes to collect himself. “Eleven thirty,” he read off the car’s dashboard. “Gonna have to use the window.”

He arrived at the house. Through the ground floor window he could see that the lights were on at the back of the house. The house he was in is quite old, and he’d managed to snag a room in the attic with a bay window jutting out the side of the roof. He’d had it for as long as he could remember, in fact the Foster Bitch’s was the only house he’d ever had the displeasure of living in.

Unfortunately, Techno was in the circumstance of having had to do this a hundred times. He hopped up one of the columns holding the overhang above the porch, feet slotting into familiar grooves. Swinging himself up on the shingles and quickly making his way to the concave corner of the building, he used his momentum to push himself up the next two stories. Finding the familiar scruff marks on the window frame, he hoisted himself up to the top of the roof.

Techno looked out at the street below, it was a nice few all things considered. He went to open the window.

Locked.

Right. It had been storming the night before and he forgot to open it in his rush to get to school that morning.

Techno looked up at the sky. It was nice out, and he wasn’t one to be bothered about sleeping in day clothes--better than facing the wrath of the Foster Bitch for entering the house at such a late hour. He’d have to sleep on the side facing the backyard, he remembered what happened last time he slept on the roof.

Techno knocked on the window. Yes, Tommy should be asleep right now, but it didn’t hurt to check. After a minute he knocked once more.

Techno smiled at Tommy through the glass when the kid finally dragged himself out of bed to let his roommate in. The blond stuck out his tongue and opened the window. “Evening Blade,” he whispered. “What brings you back so late?”

“Sleep,” Techno said, slipping into the room. He snorted at the sleepy, unamused look Tommy gave him. “Stuff. Did you eat?”

“No. The other kids got to it first.” Tommy closed the window behind them, leaving the latch unlocked. “Like always.”

Techno hummed and unzipped his bag. He dumped the contents out and started organizing them.

“How did you get that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Techno dug through the pile and pulled out a pack of beef jerky. He tossed it in the general direction of Tommy’s head. “Leave a slice for me.”

Tommy caught the bag and quickly tore it open. He watched Techno disperse the food around their shared room, taking note where each item would be. “Techno?” he called in a small voice.

“I know, Tommy. I’m careful.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Techno if you’re caught they’re going to send you away!” he said, still a little distressed. “Then how am I going to survive here?”

“I won’t get caught.” Techno reassured him. “And if I do, I’m not getting sent away. If that was the case I’d have been gone before you even showed up here last year.” Techno hummed; he remembered that party. Some kid he’d never spoken to couldn’t afford to lose their scholarship so little seventh grade Techno had taken the blame for the alcohol serving party held at the house that night. He chuckled as he remembered gaslighting the whole community that it was his idea, not his finest moment, but one he was proud of nonetheless.

Being barred from the dinner buffet for two weeks had been worth the reputation points. Plus, he learnt valuable hoarding skills in that time. The Foster Bitch was fine--all things considered--but she was under the impression that if she put out a bunch of food on the table, everyone would get an equal portion in the mad dash for sustenance.

That wasn't the case. Techno could get food just fine, but Tommy was a gangly fourteen year old with too much height and not enough bulk; it was virtually impossible for him to grab food off the table.

“I’m not going to get caught.” Techno said putting the gummy worms on Tommy’s night stand. He held out his pinky, “I promise. I’m safe.”

“Techno,” Tommy whined, unhappy with the response--ignoring Techno’s hand. “That stash is bigger than normal.”

“I know.”

“Techno.”

“The cashier was busy with something else.”

Tommy’s voice took on a colder tone. “Techno.”

“Tommy.”

“What was the cashier busy with?”

“Stuff.”

Tommy huffed. “It wasn’t a Dream Team thing was it? You shouldn’t be hanging out with them.”

Techno snorted. “I’m older than you. Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to tell you to stop hanging out with the wrong crowd? Dream’s fine. Besides, you hang out with his little brother.”

“Well yeah!” Tommy’s voice got defensive. “But Tubbo’s Tubbo. Dream’s in the news for stealing and shit.” Tommy munched on his jerky angrily, even if he was going to stay oblivious: they both knew that Techno didn’t have the money to pay for this. Tommy dropped the friend’s point and moved to double down on the previous one. “What was the cashier busy with?”

“Stuff. Not Dream. Not death. Just stuff okay?”

“Not death?”

“Not death,” Techno agreed sagely.

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

Techno took off his hoodie and belt, but otherwise didn’t bother with pajamas. “Nope.” He settled into bed and held out his hand for Tommy to pass him the food.

Tommy stared him dead in the eye as he ate the last piece of beef jerky from that particular package. Techno rolled his eyes, but he understood; Tommy had heard that from Techno before: the not explaining where he’d been. He knew not to bother his foster brother, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The next morning Techno and Tommy didn’t bother going to the kitchen for breakfast. Instead, they ate last night’s stolen granola bars in the comfort of their dingy penthouse suite--attic room--and listened to the thundering feet of the ten other foster’s in the house racing to get some food.

“If you want another, then take another.” It had taken a long time for Techno to teach Tommy that it was safe to take food from his stash; as far as he was concerned it was their stash. Hopefully, Tommy would stop feeling guilty about not asking, although that didn’t seem like it was happening any time soon.

Tommy sent him a half smile and scoffed down another bar. The two of them got ready for school, and were soon in Techno’s car. It was a ten minute drive to the high school, and Tommy sang along with the radio at the top of his lungs. It would be endearing if Techno wasn’t socially exhausted from the extrovert living in his room.

“I’m on top of the world, eh!” Tommy shouted, flipping off their foster siblings waiting at the bus station.

“Tommy.”

“What?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“ I’m on top of the world! ”

Techno kept his smile to himself.

He rolled the car to a stop in the school parking lot. Before Tommy could open the door and vault out, Techno spoke. “Today’s a ‘going to Bad’s after school’ type of day.”

“What? Why?”

“Hanging out with Dream.”

Tommy’s face soured.

“Come on, don't be like that.”

“It’s not that I don’t like Bad. I just don’t like Dream. He’s bad news, and in the news.”

“It’s just an English project. We need to make a PowerPoint on something or other.”

“Okay,” Tommy said stiffly.

“I don’t police your friends. You don’t police mine.”

“Tubbo’s not in the news. Neither is Purpled. And you can’t complain about Ranboo.”

Techno thinks back to last night with the Soot brothers and the new kid in a purple sweatshirt. “Put a pin in Purpled.”

“No!” Tommy looked appalled at the insinuation Techno just made about his friend. “Have some faith. Tubbo and Purpled won’t turn out like their older brothers. Crime isn’t a gene that runs in families!”

Techno smiled sadly. “I hope not. Get out.”

“What do you mean ‘put a pin in Purpled?’” Tommy demanded.

Techno shrugged him off. “Text me if you leave Bad’s, I’ll come pick you up later.”

Tommy harshly pulled at the car door. “Tubbo won’t be like Dream, and Purpled won’t be like Punz.”

“I never said Purpled was a mercenary!”

Tommy got out of the car, slammed the door, and flipped his brother off before marching away.

Techno was so glad that they didn’t share any DNA. Could you imagine that? But just because they were brother’s out of necessity and foster placement didn’t mean he didn’t care about the kid.

#Technoblade #TommyInnit #Purpled #Fundy #Wilbur Soot #These Streets Are Made For Walking

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distractedhistotech · 4 years

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The difference a few seconds make

A couple of days ago I wondered how the altered memories would be affected if Lewis had turned around just a little earlier and realized Arthur was possessed before dying. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Came up with several ideas about how things would go.

So here you guys go.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” said Vivi as she practically bounced in her seat. “At least two weeks of traveling, maybe more, and all sorts of fun stops!” She turned to Arthur. “What are you looking forward to the most?”

Arthur hummed in thought for a moment. “I’d have to say the Techno Expo. There are some really interesting exhibits there besides mine. Hopefully, I’ll be able to take some time to check ‘em out. There’s a one about using body heat to power electronics that would improve my arm.”

Vivi very carefully did not look at Arthur’s new arm. He didn’t enjoy people staring at his prosthetic, especially if they were the nosy sort who asked questions. Yeah, that probably didn’t apply to Vivi, but she still felt Arthur ought to be treated like he still had both his arms. “I have no idea how that would work, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out no problem!”

Arthur smiled at her. “Thanks. What about you? Anything you’re looking forward to?”

“I’m just hoping we see something supernatural this time,” said Vivi. “I know that the hoaxes with get us some more funds for traveling, but they’re just so disappointing, ya know.”

Arthur chuckled nervously. “I’m not really sure which I prefer.”

“That’s fair. At least we only have four items on that itinerary. Well, if you don’t include the Ripley Museum we’re going to.”

“It’s haunted? I don’t remember seeing that in the brochure…”

“Not so much the museum as the items inside of it. Some of them are cursed or haunted or magical. Fortunately, Ripley was aware of this and put up all sorts of protections,” explained Vivi. “So do the regular triple photographing.”

Triple photographing was the term they’d given to the method of photographing when they were ghost hunting. Nothing complicated. They just took three photos in quick succession. It helped them determine if anything odd that showed up was just a weird artifact instead of a spirit of some kind.

“You and Ripley would’ve gotten along,” commented Arthur.

Vivi giggled. “Yeah, we would’ve, wouldn’t we?”

“Hey, random thought, if you could, would you-what the heck?”

“Hm?”

“The engine just stopped!” said Arthur. Sure enough, the van had gotten a lot quieter, and they were slowing down quickly. “You gotta be kidding me! I went over every part and made sure it was in tip top shape before we set out!” Arthur glared at the various displays in front of them. What were they even called? Was it part of the dashboard? Was it all considered part of the dashboard? Should she ask?

Vivi’s thought process was derailed as a large mansion came into view. It was old, dark, decrepit, and generally creepy looking. What was weird was that it was visibly beating. The three stared at it for several moments before Arthur broke the silence. “Vivi?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s a haunted house, isn’t it?”

“Or a very good fake,” admitted Vivi because she has learned that you can fake anything with the right technology. “But if it’s real it would explain why the van stopped working.”

Arthur groaned. “Great…” He turned to look at Vivi. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into helping me push the van out of range?”

Vivi did consider it. “I’m not sure we’re strong enough to do it, and we were planning to check out haunted houses on this trip. I mean you can stay here if you want to. If it is an actual haunting, it’s probably a pretty powerful ghost.”

Arthur bit his lip but shook his head. “Nah, I-I’ll be f-fine.”

Vivi smiled and gave Arthur a peck on his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” That got a thankful smile from Arthur.

And that was how they found themselves walking up to doors (that opened on their own and then closed on their own) into what looked like a fairly fancy if damaged manor. For some reason there was a lot of purple.

“Hey, the candles are burning purple,” commented Vivi. “Think we’ll be able to tell if they’re those specially made rainbow candles if we take them apart?”

“Uh…I’d avoid breaking anything,” said Arthur as stared at a painting with glowing eyes that seemed to be staring back. “’Cause I’m starting to lean towards the ‘actual ghost’ theory.”

Vivi made a pleased sound. “Well, better say hi. Hello! We don’t mean to intrude, but our van broke down, and we’re kind of stuck. We’ll be out of your hair once we figure out how to fix it. If you aren’t happy about our presence, let us know, and we’ll leave.”

“Just, uh, p-please don’t, you know, try t-to k-k-kill us,” added Arthur.

Mystery didn’t react to what either of them said. He was more distracted by the familiar scent he was picking up. He let out a few barks.

And that was when several purple bedsheet looking ghosts started popping out of the woodwork and floating around the group. Vivi let out an ecstatic squee. Arthur recoiled with a shriek. Mystery barked at them.

“They’re so cute!” squealed Vivi.

“Why are there so many of them?” questioned Arthur. “Isn’t it usually just one or two ghosts?”

Vivi paused in thought before carefully reaching out towards one. When it didn’t react badly to being touched, she gave it a pat. “Actually, you’ve got a point. These guys don’t seem to have enough power to manifest. Maybe if they were pooling their energy together (which would explain why they all look the same) they could manifest. Or maybe there’s another, stronger ghost that’s helping them manifest. That does happen sometimes.”

Arthur blinked as he tried to shoo several of the ghosts away from his prosthetic, which they seemed to have taken a strong interest in. “Uh, how much st-stronger are we t-talking ab-about here?”

Before Vivi had a chance to answer, something tugged his arm up with a surprising amount of strength. The surprised look on Vivi’s face made it clear it was not one of the tiny, purple ghosts. Arthur gulped and slowly turned around.

The first thing that came to mind upon seeing the ghost was ‘big’. The second thing was ‘skull’. The third was ‘purple pompadour?’ because the ghost did indeed have a glowing purple pompadour sprouting out of its jawless skull. Arthur wasn’t sure what to do as the ghost studied his prosthetic for several moments. “You have a metal arm.”

Arthur nodded. “Y-y-y-yeah.”

The ghost somehow blinked despite having no eyelids and quickly let go of Arthur’s arm. “Whoa! I’m not gonna do anything to you!” Fire burst out of the top of the ghost’s suit and engulfed his skull for a moment before reforming into an admittedly handsome face with dark skin and a hooked nose. Still had a purple pompadour and freaky eyes though. “It’s me, Lewis.”

#msa #mystery skulls animated #vivi yukino #lewis pepper #arthur kingsman #Mystery the not-Dog #memory mess #how they met ghost lewis for the first time

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gayenerd · 4 years

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Another old article saved in a Word document, which I can only find behind a paywall now (but I linked it in case someone does have access to a subscription)

Green Day Rising Metal Mike Saunders, Bam, 28 January 1994 Popcore Ascending? Or Is That Just The First Phase Of 'The Greatest Band In America'?

'We were down in Irvine and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of his stride he turned around, right into a horizontal beam five feet off the ground – Vhoom...Out cold. So that suggested the concept of ...misery.'– Billie Joe

WHERE IT all it the brick wall for me personally was 11th grade carpool. Four high school boys jammed into a VW bug, or worse, with the AM radio on for about 20 minutes en route to Hall High, Little Rock.

It was the season of the great Bubblegum Wars, that pint in time where the underground FM vs. plastic AM trench wars had reached the point of no return. Kids vs. pigs, rednecks vs. longhairs. Combat was the order of the day, even in music.

In the fall of 1968, the musical lightning rod was 'Chewy Chewy' by the Ohio Express: 'Turn it off' and 'Turn it down' were the majority opinions. I was for sure the only one going 'Turn it up!' The same routine was repeated just a few weeks later with the Archies and the 1910 Fruitgum Co. (the later with the classic top-five hit 'Indian Giver'), and it seems like ever since that point in time 'pop' has been a derogatory term. Something less than…what? 'Rock'?

What does this have to do with Green Day? Well, it’s like this: There’s this real lame tag – 'popcore' (say it once and erase it forever, pul LEEZE) that was kicking around for a while last year and was affixed to the East Bay trio’s style of music. Aw, hell, they’re just a great rock band.

If Santa came and went recently and there’s still no Green Day in your house, here’s a shopping list: 39 Smooth (Lookout!), Kerplunk (Lookout!), and Dookie (Warner Bros./Reprise). Forty-eight killer tracks by this country’s greatest band and, considering that only in the preceding 12 months did its members start to hit drinking age, possibly just the beginning of what could turn out to be an amazing career.

Proof is no farther away than the band’s new album, Dookie, its first for a major label, but proceeded by two LPs and three 7-inch EPs on Berkeley’s Lookout! Records.

Anyone who’s seen the threesome knows they can play like gangbusters; the difference between a tiny indie-label budget (try about $3000 for all 34 Lookout! Tracks combined) and a major-league endeavor is that for the first time you get proof 10 times over on tape. So you get raging guitar sounds and cracking snare rimshots that explode like the early who. Even the band’s chronic shortcoming – weedy studio vocals – has been corrected to an encouraging degree.

"Yeah," volunteers 21-year-old lead singer/guitarist Billie Joe, "for my vocals we used a Beyer microphone, which was used on some of the early Elvis Costello stuff. I’m really happy with the way it came out."

The entire album is a veritable role model for any guitar-heavy rock band. Says producer Rob Cavallo: "In the case of a raw, live-sounding record like this one, what I try to do is capture on the listener’s speakers the whole left-to-right stereo spread – what we heard in preproduction, listening to the band blast away in their practice room. The key to this, in Green Day’s case, is that they have such a focused idea as to what they sound like, and they’re great players in that style."

Specific elements of Dookie’s production style include a live rhythm guitar on every song, singletracked lead vocals only, and all vocal harmonies done by the second-stage voice, 20-year-old bassist Mike Dirnt.

Warner Bros.’ hands-off role, a characteristic of the company in the wake of its Mudhoney "creative control"-type underground signings, was crucial in shaping such a record. "Warner Bros. stayed out of the way and let us do exactly what we wanted to," says 21-year-old drummer Tre Cool. "All I can say is if you can get on Warners, you are one lucky son of a gun!"

The inclination to make a guitar-heavy record was present from the get-go. "I definitely wanted to get a bigger sound," recalls Billie Joe, "something with more meat to it." Which is achieved, in parts thanks to a borrowed vintage 1972 Marshall head hooked up to the same blue Stratocaster Billie Joe’s been battering since he was 11.

The wall of guitar sound was achieved with a live track and just one more rhythm guitar dropped in. "We had experimented a bit on previous records, stacking guitar tracks to try to get a thicker sound," recalls Billie Joe. "But this time with just the two rhythm guitars; we got a better distorted sound."

Like any other trademark-sound band, it’s the deviations on the record that are most interesting. We’ve got three here: 'Pulling Teeth,' 'When I Come Around,' and the album’s first single, 'Longview,' 'Pulling Teeth' leaps out of the album like a K-Tel cut buried in a techno set; it’s the tune Dave Edmunds never had to break his career Stateside. Tight harmony vocals frame a straight guitar-heavy country-rock melody with a conciseness worthy of the masters. Not one wasted word or second.

"We were down in Irvine," recalls Billie Joe of the song’s lyrical genesis, "and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of this stride he turned ground – vhoom…Out cold. So that suggested the concept of…misery."

'Longview' hits a whole opposite style. It’s something you might imagine as a late’70s FM track, with a loping dumbo beat ("a rumble," suggests Dirnt) not too far off Tom Petty’s 'Breakdown', Lyrics about nothing, really-killing time, punching the cable remote, getting high. A two-chord riff to nowhere, then a basic garden-variety three-chord chorus. The trick is that the whole darn song is a hook. Simultaneously the dumbest and catchiest Van Halen guitar licks panning across the speakers.

"In a way, that song was cheap self-therapy for watching too much TV," recalls Billie Joe. "It was another case of writing about whatever mood I’m in."

Especially near to my heart (I’m from the South, y’all ) is 'When I Come Around,' an unintentional dead-on-evocation of Lynyrd Skynyrd at its top-40 hookiest. With a lazy turnaround beat like 'Sweet Home Alabama', it’s just about five degrees westward of the slightly ‘70s ballads 'Christie Road' and 'No One Knows' from the earlier Kerplunk album.

"On that one, we weren’t thinking country rock, but rather something that had a groove to it, almost like you could imagine having a martini and listening to it at the same time," explains Dirnt.

See, 80 percent of Dookie is in the trademark Green Day raging pop-punk. It’s this deviant 20 percent that makes one suspect they can pull off almost anything they want out of the trash-dump of earlier under appreciated rock styles. A mainstream audience could forge a very, very interesting alliance with this group.

Of the trademark pop-punk onslaught, averaging an airtight two minutes, 30 seconds apiece, 'Basket Case' and 'Sassafras Roots' are two of the strongest numbers. 'Basket Case' was about a friend who’s pretty loopy,' explains Billie Joe, 'but a bit about myself as well – like seeing your own trails in other people where it’s been taken to a total extreme. There are a lot more songs on this record that are about other people’s experiences, even though I might still be singing in the first person.'

The recording of Dookie went fairly fast by industry standards, the music and vocals finished last summer in three and a half weeks (at Berkeley’s Fantasy Studios), followed by an initial mix. The band then headed out on 40-date fall tour with the veteran LA punk band Bad Religion, which enabled them to come back to the project with a clean set of ears. The entire album was remixed with engineering whiz Jerry, Finn who paid special attention to the record’s amazing bottom end. At that point, the band’s 'creative input' reached its most extreme.

"We all three sat there for 10 days straight, 15 hours a day, and listened to every minute of the remixing sessions," recalls Tre Cool. Which is just short of four working-Joe (like me) work weeks without a day off.

Dookie is one of the rawest melodically oriented rock records to show up on a major label in the last zillion years. Usually when bands go from an indie to a major label, the result is a slicker product.

"When I listen to bad rock music occasionally, I just wind up going, ‘What the hell were these guys thinking of?" agrees Billie Joe.

I speculate that there have now been entire generations’ worth of bad drum sounds committed to record. "Huge room sounds on the drum with shitloads of reverb," responds Dirnit. "Flanged drum rolls," adds Billie Joe.

My favorite, rolls across the chromatic-tuned rototoms, comes in a close second.

While most bands with almost 50 tracks into their recording career hit the point of labored songwriting (that old saw about a band’s first album being its best), that hasn’t been the case with Green Day. "Actually, I think I was more comfortable with my songwriting on this record than I ever was before," insists Billie Joe. "I had a real good handle on what kind of melodies and hooks I wanted to come up with. Didn’t rush myself, just let them come out naturally. It was the previous time out, on the songs on Kerplunk, that I was consciously trying to outdo my previous songs."

The variation from Green Day’s uptempo style, now comprising a good one-quarter of the band’s most recent two albums, will continue. "We definitely are going to continue to expand the scope of our material; we don’t want to get into a rut where we rewrite Kerplunk or Dockie over again," explains Billie Joe. "There’s a lot of musical tastes that run through this band."

I did my homework on the band’s "song-about-girls" label (a tag, Dirnt complains, 'we got caught up in') going back to January 1992’s Kerplunk and assigning topics to each song. The tally was girls, four; mortality/meaning of life, three; neurosis/insanity, one; one novelty song; and alienation, motivation, and coming of age, one apiece. Dookie is more of the same, with topics ranging all over the map, the median perhaps being the pissed-off frame of mind of 'Chump' and 'F.O.D.' The girl-songs ratio is down around 30 percent.

The "girl-songs" tag must have sprung from what was the band’s classic 1990 debut, 39 Smooth, written and sung by Billie Joe and Dirnt at the ripe old ages of 17 and 16. A good 70 percent of the album’s songs related to the opposite sex, with the lead off track, 'At the Library', ranking as perhaps the best song ever written by a high-schooler.

One facet of a Green Day performance that’s impossible to capture on paper is the continuous bantering and riposting between the band and the crowd, much of it hysterical.

"It’s all part of making our audience feel like they’re at home, communicating on an eye-label basis," offers Billie Joe.

"See, before a show we’re usually making fun of each other – making a mess by playing baseball with apples or whatever, meeting new people who are funny and have jokes we haven’t heard – so we’re totally stoked by the time we get onstage," elaborates Tre.

It’s safe to say that after two trips to Europe, half a dozen ('at least') full American tours, and over four years of nonstop gigging, performance anxiety does not figure into this band’s equation. "We never have a list, we just make it up as we go," explains Tre.

I offer my theory that no matter how many fans a band has, there are five times as many people who think they stink, and 10 times as many who don’t care.

"I would see it as three different sections: the people who really like you, the people who really hate you, and the vast majority who are totally oblivious," muses Billie Joe.

The vast size of the record industry contributes to making yesterday’s barely gold act today’s 'Who?' (think Britny Fox, Vixen, and a half-dozen gold Loverboy albums). Indeed, if everyone who ever made fun of Motley Crue videos were assembled in one place, we would surely fill the Oakland Coliseum.

Speaking of videos, the world doesn’t faze our subjects – not yet anyway. "We’ve never done a video. They’ve got us scheduled to do one, so for now we think videos are cool," laughs Tre.

"We’re probably shooting the video in our house," adds Billie Joe, the "house" being what appears to be a subterranean Berkeley abode, complete with a tiny band-practice room; it’s not squalid, it’s absolutely slacker). "So…we figure our video concept will be kind of ‘Looks That Kill’ meets ‘Hot for Teachers’ meets 'Rock You Like a Hurricane'," quips Dirnt.

Given the absolutely superb quality of the band’s Warner Bros. debut, the only mystery is that a major label bidding war on Green Day took so long to materialize.

"Warner Bros. was the label initially considering the band," recounts band co-manager Jeff Saltzman. "But it was when Geffen and Sony/CBS jumped in with serious interest that Warners got serious about picking up the band."

Green Day never would have gotten so much done so fast, however, without the astute ears of Lookout! Records’ president and perpetual talent scout, Larry Livermore, who sent the band into the studio two months after first seeing the trio to record an EP called 1000 Hours, which was followed by the 39 Smooth album, which was recorded at the end of 1989 for less than $500.

"I knew Al Sobrante (Green Day’s drummer through mid-1990) from Isocracy, so I knew about his new band, Sweet Children [renamed Green Day six months later]," recalls Livermore. "My band, the Lookouts, were playing a house party up in Mendocino County, February 1989, so I invited Al’s band up to play also. I was so impressed with the band and their attitude, playing just in front of 15 people, that I hooked up with them immediately to record for Lookout! I never had any doubt about their potential, musically. I thought they were great the first time I saw them."

#all typos are in the article i'm pretty sure #the origin story of pulling teeth never gets old #but also who has a pillow fight OUTSIDE???#billie talking about outdoing himself even on KERPLUNK #our poor little workaholic #the stats on 'songs about girls' is sending me #green day #BAM #interview #article #articles

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randomvarious · 4 years

Video

youtube

Casey Hogan - “Under My Skin” Stockholm Mix Sessions 2 by Jesper Dahlbäck 2000 Deep House

***Song starts at 43:59 and ends at 48:08***

From Casey Hogan's Discogs profile, which is kinda lengthy, but provides a good backstory on the guy:

Casey Hogan was born in Miami, Florida. After his father, who by the way is in the Radio business uprooted Casey multiple times, they finally settled in Tennessee after short stays in Oklahoma, Texas, Kansas, Colorado, and Kentucky. Growing up around the radio business was definitely a benefit for Casey. He was exposed to all kinds of music, from Jazz and disco to electro, 80's electronic and everything else under the sun. Although Casey appreciated many of the different styles he was exposed to, the newbeat/industrial sound of the late 80's is definitely what caught his attention. Stuff from Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, Level 42, and New Order, is what initially got him started. Not [too] long after that, Casey was also particularly interested in the scratching and hip-hop thing as well as the moody techno sounds coming out of Detroit.

As early as 1991, Casey was making mix-tapes of his favorite tunes for his friends. At the same time Casey also began dabbling in production. He would go down to his father's radio station and work on the multitrack dubbing carts, splicing tape, and editing commercials after school. Not [too] long after in 1992 Casey began performing at both raves and clubs throughout the South and Southeast as a DJ. After building some experience in the studio, in 1994 Casey began to create his own music. He initially started with drum machines. Then he began to build his studio up. At that point Casey decided it was time for even more changes. Although the scene down south was growing, it seemed it would never catch up with the big cities of the north like Detroit, Chicago, or New York. So in the spring of 1996, Casey packed up and moved to NYC. Once he arrived in NYC, Casey began doing sound design/engineering for quite a few multimedia companies doing everything from original scores, to remixes, to edits, to everything else that takes place in a production house. Not too long after this, Casey got a job at the world-renowned vinyl shop Sonic Groove.

The year of 1998 would then see Hogan's first professional release, Precocious Track, as part of a trio called Peak Project. He would then make his solo debut the following year, and in 2000, a track of his called "Under My Skin" would land exclusively on a great deep house mix by Jesper Dahlbäck for the second installment of Turbo Recordings' Stockholm Mix Sessions series.

But here's where it gets just a tad confusing: the year after "Under My Skin" appeared on that Dahlbäck mix, Hogan released a 12-inch by the same name, but none of the tracks on Hogan's 12-inch were called "Under My Skin." And I haven't heard that full 12-inch myself, so, I don't know if Dahlbäck mistitled a track that came off of that 12-inch that hadn't been released yet, or if "Under My Skin" is the actual name of the track and it hasn't appeared anywhere else. 🤷‍♂️ If anyone knows, I'd love to know myself.

So, anyway, this Hogan track is great. Its light and catchy, twinklingly jazzy keyboard lead is definitely both its best and crowning feature. But the song wouldn't really be anything without the thick, aquatic morass that lies beneath it. When people call something "deep house," they mean a track that has a lower BPM than a typical house tune and is also imbued with a chillier affect. And while this track 100% meets that description, this song is also deep house, but by a different definition: it also feels like you're grooving deep at the bottom of the sea.

And that's because of the vast ecosystem of sounds that exist behind those leading keys that top the track off. There's a mix of different percussions, from some reverbed whip-slapping, to hand drumming, to snares, to subtly jingling hi-hats, to kick drums, and there's a slow, humming bassline that murmurs in tandem with a synth melody that sways at the bottom, too. Plus, a bunch more little sounds that are a whole lot more difficult to describe come and go as well. And all of these pieces, both big and small, both prominent and fleeting, coexist harmoniously, complementing each other in order to yield what ultimately becomes this exquisitely deep piece of deep house music.

A tremendous early aughts offering from Casey Hogan.

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raspberryjones · 4 years

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At This Time...

Sitting here paralyzed for days, trying to figure out what more I can do. Quarantined, distracted from grading these final papers by the fires in my feed, knowing that donating to activist organizations and RT’ing, on top of crying, shaking and cursing, is not nearly enough. Plus, just about anything I say/do on the socials feels like a f*cking performance. All of it — except the anger and the stream of information that continues to reassert the utter disdain that this country’s White supremacy (not just Tr*mp, but the whole friggin’ establishment) has for Black and Brown people, here and throughout the world. The insidiousness.

Even wallowing in my own exhaustion — jobless, hope on a tattered string, watching the powers that be f*ck the populace over in every way imaginable… All of it feels self-pitying, when I can recognize my privilege and be struck by the existential sorrow that, even before this week’s events, or the racial disparity of the pandemic’s victims, surrounds most Black American lives. When I hear my Black and Brown friends and colleagues express their own exhaustion, as so many have over the past five days, it has the weight not just of the moment, or a political term, but of history. Personal, familial, written in volumes, reaffirmed constantly — and running contrary to America’s dip-shit self-mythologizing.

And yet... Despite this horror-show past, with white supremacy’s attempts to subjugate them for generations, Black America’s ability to move society forward has been beyond fucking remarkable. The creation of culture, the strength of moral character, the depth of communal compassion. It is no overstatement that the moral and creative compass of not just Black excellence but of the African-American community I’ve known, has been among primary lodestars of my life in this country. And while I do not expect all other folks to feel the same way I do, I most certainly judge those who feel contrary — or those who dismiss the notion that, if anyone’s ever made this hard land great in the past, it’s been Black Americans.

And that in the struggle to understand the fullness of this account, you will find pretty much all contemporary crises. It’s incredible that, in 2020, a majority of people still don’t comprehend the connections between systemic white privilege and Black death in the headlines, between colonization culture and the overwhelming inequality rampant in American society, between the contemporary malaise of the Western imagination and the whitewashing of the media. For a person who does not simply work in/with culture founded on the Black experience, but gets their very lifeblood form it, this is a hard fucking pill to swallow. The big “YOU don’t get it!”

So, when thinking about WTF else I can do, as a writer who deeply supports Black American communities in the struggle against white supremacy, I thought it worthwhile to reiterate some of this historical record’s personal and social importance. Having just spent a semester teaching NYU sophomores about how we got here — while re-reading classic texts by LeRoi Jones and Ralph Ellison and Isabel Wilkerson, Nikole Hannah Jones’s massive new one, and discussing the contemporary settings of these ideas with DeForrest Brown Jr. and Angel Bat Dawid — what I believe should be our collective mission is fresh and clear in my mind.

This is where music comes in. It’s especially important that anyone who listens to contemporary music in the 21st century, also participates in reappraising these whitewashed texts, restoring Blackness back to the center of this culture. Not only to acknowledge the proper origins of the forms and ideas that are so important to it — and thus, acknowledge the people who developed these forms and ideas — but act accordingly in times of crisis, requiring us to use our white privilege to support pro-Black and anti-colonialist positions in a way that could actually lead to structural change. To “see something, say something” when companies belligerently monetize the (Black) people’s culture and do not recompense the community, or when cops act like overseers that treat Black lives as wanton boys do flies.

Because… Here’s the thing: blues and jazz are the basis of all great new music of the last 100 years — paving the way for the post-modern Black electronic music (hip-hop, house and techno and electro) which is the core of pretty much all popular sounds of the 21st century. And the Black experience is the DNA of these musics — meaning, in the clearest terms, that we don’t get to have this music without the burden that preceded it. This is at the core of the accusation that “loving Black culture more than Black people.” You do NOT get to do one without the other, and still call it “love.”

Unlike European art, that original Black music is not the product of some art-school- and conservatory-learned experiments. Or of commissions from a royal court. Or of direct updates on thousand-year folk forms. Oral traditional and molecular memory aside, Black American music’s past was almost completely — genocidally, is also a word — wiped away in the Middle Passage. So when it came to fruition in the years during and after Reconstruction, it did so as a personal Black expression of what to do and how to live in this new, foreign here-and-now, far from “home.” This music is, simultaneously, a lament and celebration, complaint and utopia, art and evidence, personal diary and modernist work. Nothing like that had been conceived before, and it was so revolutionary that almost no one’s been able to build a next-level to it since.

It was also the first musical art-form original to the United States. Now imagine: the engine of this art-form’s motivation was a desire to express oneself within a society that did not want to hear any of what you had to say. A society that, in many cases, did not regard you as fully human. And yet think of how Black music expresses the full spectrum of humane truths and emotions. Actually, fuck it, don’t read me telling you about it. Go listen to the Wesley Morris episode of the 1619 Project podcast, who does a far better job than I of narrating Black American music’s wonders. This is why remaining on the sidelines, or providing only cursory support to the uprising, does not sit well.

It is crucial that people around the world know this history when they hear a variation of these musics being described as “global phenomena” or “universal,” or divided into “genres.” Such terms might seem neutral, or even complementary to its creators; but at their core, they move to dilute the role that the Black experience played in its birth. And distancing the music from the people who made it (and why), mitigates the music’s values. What was once specific becomes conditional — out goes the particularity of its expressions (feelings, words, citations), and in come market-democratizing generalities, like capitalization and trends, elements that tend to be elevated by whoever controls mass communication. This is how a local culture becomes a global genre, and how some people who make “techno” or “jazz” music in [insert European city here] can’t comprehend why “neutrality” towards George Floyd’s death is a betrayal of their creative work.

But... They will do as they will do. And, as I said before, we will judge them - because it is on these very decisions and proclamations that the intention of the art-work (a crucial aspect in the value of the art-work — its contemporary “aura” some might say), that artists and their audiences are judged. And when I mis-step, my Black friends and colleagues will also judge me, and the humility and self-reflection with which I handle this will say volumes about what my cultural intentions are. Because for the rest of us, there never has been nor will continue to be a disconnection between the culture we have sworn allegiance to, and the need to change society’s norms, to speak about the need for social justice, and to continually reassert that #BlackLivesMatter and #BrownLivesMatter.

And that if you continue to engage with the words and ideas that I hope to continue putting out into the world, this is their starting point. That music — for all its glory and hope and joy and wrenching feeling and fuck-you energy and let’s-love energy and all that — is neither the beginning nor the end. It is one narrative of history’s arc. That chapters of this history are being written all the time, some quietly and some in push-notifications, and that what’s going on outside our windows at this moment, is a major scene of the permanent record. To be quiet is to be complicit. I choose not to be complicit. I hope that you make that choice as well.

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#blacklivesmatter #brown lives matter #how to be an ally #jazz #techno #House Music #black music #hip-hop #sister rosetta tharpe

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sound-provider · 4 years

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Techno hi-hat now

buy for 25€

Sound Provider “Techno HiHat Now” is collection of 529 wav samples (106 one shots and 425 loops) prepared with love and care by Leonard de Leonard, a Berlin-based producer, sound designer for top-tier synthesizer manufacturers, sound engineer and label manager.

This sound bank was designed to help you add groove, character, space and fullness of sound to your beats with rich percussions created from his impressive analog hardware collection, ranging from modulars to drum machines. Added analog effects as well as digital processing of the samples will ensure a refined and precise sound design for immediate professional results. From 120 to 136BPM, this collection is particularly suited for techno, rave and house productions but goes beyond those genres and prove to be a great addition and creative boost whichever music field you are exploring.

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#techno hi-hat

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princess-josie-riki · 5 years

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Haunted: Dead or Alive

The Sequel to The Wrath of Ammo Baron.EXE. A Shantae Creepypasta featuring Techno Baron.EXE and Ammo Baron.EXE (the horror forms and Creepypasta versions of Techno Baron and Ammo Baron from the Shantae series). Co-written by tarzanwothaz.

Techno Baron sadly walks down the corridor in his lair, worried about the disappearance of his friend, Ammo Baron. It's been so long since Ammo Baron was last seen after he was defeated by Shantae. His army had disbanded the day after he vanished. Now, many people were never found, but that didn't concern Techno Baron. What concerns him is that Ammo Baron was missing. "Oh, Ammo," Techno Baron said sadly. "Wherever you are, I hope you're okay. If only you are still here, I would've been there for you." The Techno Grunts came up to him as one of them said, "Hey, boss! Why are you talking about Ammo Baron out loud? What's wrong?" "I'm worried that Ammo Baron is missing." replied Techno Baron. "You know, I was gonna tell you to get back to work, but I'm too upset to do that. What am I supposed to do?" "Maybe you should look for him." another Techno Grunt suggested. "Maybe you're right." said Techno Baron. "I guess I should look for him. He's probably worried by now." Techno Baron entered his Jeep, started the engine, and drove out of the factory and straight to Sequin Land. He searched for his friend, Ammo Baron, for an hour. He checked every place but there is no sign of him anywhere. The only place in Sequin Land that he didn't check yet is the forest. So, he drove into it. He parked his Jeep at the entrance, got off and turned on his flashlight as he entered the forest. The sound of the crickets and birds made him a feeling that is like in the Tarzan movies. "Ammo Baron!" he called, "Ammo Baron, where are you?" Like, come on. Who could get lost in a forest like that? There's no way Ammo Baron can be in here. Up ahead is an eerie red glow shining through the trees..Could it be a campfire? Is there someone camping in here? Techno Baron stepped closer and closer until he saw something. It just glows light a lightbulb. Very shiny. It's edges are square shaped with a pyramid-shaped top. There is blood dripping down from the top. He looked up and saw a body impaled from above. This being is wearing a blue coonskin cap. And a blue trench coat? "Ammo...Baron...?" he asked in horror and dismay. Ammo Baron didn't respond. he was cold and emotionless and there was even blood coming out of his mouth. But that's not the worst part, his clothes are a bit ragged, his eye is bloodshot and his skin is pale and slightly decaying. "No..." Techno Baron said before crying. "No, no, no, no, no..." He felt an ocean wave striking him. Like everything that he loved is being dragged away from him. He ran into his Jeep, grabbed the shovel and came back. He stabbed the shovel into the base and began to push down the handle. The crystal tipped over away from him and it landed on it's side. Ammo Baron's head drooped down forward as his arms swayed. Techno Baron dropped his shovel and ran up to Ammo Baron and grabbed him by the shoulders. He tried to pull but Ammo Baron is stuck. He put his one foot on the crystal as he pulled harder until the body popped off and landed on top of him. Techno Baron pushed the body off him and he stood up. Examining the body, he saw something in the pocket of the trench coat. He took it out and it is inside a cover. It looked like it can be played on a VCR. Looking back at the body, drops of tears dripped out of his eyes as he closed his eyes. The next day, Techno Baron and his Techno Grunts, Twitch and Vinegar, Barracuda Joe, the former Ammonian Soldiers who used to be in Ammo Baron's army, Squid Baron, Hypno Baron and several other people in Sequin Land are at Ammo Baron's funeral in the cemetery. In front was a grave that says "R.I.P. Ammo Baron: February 27, 1980 - March 24, 2016". "Although he was kind of a sleazy jerk, trigger-happy and aggressive and a mechanized militaristic madman, Ammo Baron was also a great military leader." said Joe. "Sure he was a menace, but he was also great with women. He wasn't just a baron, he was the greatest leader in the whole world. He was strong, he was brave and he was loyal as well." Then, tears come pouring out of Joe's eyes. "And I'm gonna miss him so much." "We're all gonna miss him, Joe." said Vinegar. "Yeah, we're all gonna miss him very much." Twitch added. "And I am going to miss him too." Techno Baron said quietly to himself sadly. "I will never forget him." Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned around, it was Shantae. Even though she is his and Ammo Baron's enemy, she was concerned. "Hey, I'm sorry for your loss." she said, sadly. "I know he was my enemy, but he was a great man and a better enemy than Risky Boots." "Thanks." said Techno Baron. "At least you came." As everyone else left, Techno Baron stood alone and looked at Ammo Baron's grave. "Ammo Baron..." he said with tears coming out of his eyes. "If you are still here, I am so sorry I wasn't there for you. I will never forget you and I will spend the rest of my life missing you. Goodbye, Ammo... See you soon." Then, Techno Baron left the cemetery, crying as he ran off. Unknown to him, a shadowy figure was watching from behind a dead tree. "There, there, Techno," it whispered sinisterly. "It'll all be over soon." Then, it chuckled eerily and faintly before it vanished. Later that evening, Techno Baron drove his Jeep back to his house, parked it in the driveway and then entered through the front door. He walked upstairs to his bedroom and sat down on his bed. He looked at the photo of himself standing next to Ammo Baron that was taken before his death. Techno Baron changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth and tucked himself to bed. He is standing in the middle of a black void. There nothing around him. It just feels empty to him. He heard a chuckle and whispers around him. "TECHNO BARON..." "Huh?" he said, frightened, "Who's there?" "I'm coming for you..." This made Techno Baron's eyes widen in fear as he says, "W-w-who are you?" "You can't hide from me..." "Sh-sh-show yourself!" he demanded in fear. "You're...doomed... Doomed... DOOMED..." Then, a faint, eerie, maniacal laughter was heard, making Techno Baron cover his ears in both fear and agony. Then comes the mocking whispers that terrified him. He woke up screaming in horror. He breathed heavily as he looked around and notices that nobody's there. Then he realized it was morning and he was in his bedroom. "It was a dream." he said to himself. "It felt real to me, but it was all just a dream." As days passed, Techno Baron has been the same nightmare every night. He kept hearing strange and eerie whispers in his sleep that are haunting him in his dreams. It was so much horror and agony to him. It felt like something, or someone was haunting him, out to get him. At Hypno Baron's Castle, Hypno Baron hears a knock at his door. When he answered it, it was Techno Baron, looking scared and desperate. "I need your help." said Techno Baron. "Yes? What is it?" Hypno Baron asked. "Voices. Whispers. Black void. And, darkness. I don't know. It's the same thing I dreamed every night for a week." Techno Baron shuddered. "When did you start having it?" Hypno Baron asked again. He is very confused. "A week ago." Techno Baron sighed, "The night after Ammo Baron's funeral." "Alright. Where was he?" Hypno Baron questioned. Techno Baron sighed again. The two went onto his Jeep and drove into the forest where the body was found. There are Barricade tapes everywhere. And what they surround is the red crystal that Ammo Baron's body was found. A mobile crane lifts the crystal off the ground and brings it out of the forest and away into the distance. "He was impaled at the top." Techno Baron pointed out. "This crystal looks familiar." Hypno Baron scratched his head. "What? What is it?" Techno Baron raised his eyebrows. "This is the Crystal of Corruption." Hypno Baron answered. Techno Baron suddenly got confused. "The Crystal of Corruption?" "Yes." Hypno Baron nodded, "Come on. I'll show you." At Hypno Baron's lab in his castle, Hypno Baron and Techno Baron went inside. Then, the cloaked Cackler baron gets out a book on dark magic. He opens the book and found a page on the Crystal of Corruption. Hypno Baron shows the page to Techno Baron and said, "The Crystal of Corruption is the most powerful, the most dangerous and more importantly, the most haunted artifact in all of Sequin Land that contains so much dark magic that is more powerful than mine. Whoever touches it becomes cursed into a malevolent state forever, even in death. No magic in the world can break the curse. Do you know what it means?" This made the squat reptilian baron's eyes widen in shock. "Ammo Baron..." said Techno Baron. "He's come back...from beyond the grave...to haunt me..." "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." Hypno Baron said in concern. "It looks like you are on your own." Techno Baron becomes sad until he realizes something and said, "Wait a minute, I have an invention that could help me." Later, at Techno Baron's lair, he finds his invention that can contact ghosts and spirits. It looked like a cute little radio with a speaker attached to it. He calls it his Ghost Box. He is going to use it to contact Ammo Baron's ghost. He raises the speakers up and says, "Ammo Baron, are you there?" "Yes... I am, Techno..." a familiar voice replies. Techno Baron was relieved, yet frightened and concerned. "Ammo, are you the one haunting me?" he asked again. "Of course I'm the one haunting you..." Ammo Baron's voice replied. "Why?" asked Techno Baron. "You'll see..." Techno Baron becomes more concerned and asks, "Can you materialize? I just wanna know if you can reveal yourself? Can you do that?" Ammo Baron was heard chuckling evilly before he answered in a sinister tone, "Gladly..." Suddenly, he felt something cold touching his shoulder, making his spine chill. When he turned to his shoulder, he sees a black, red and blue tentacle on their, making him more scared. "Guess who..." he heard Ammo Baron tell him from behind. When he turned around, he saw Ammo Baron's ghost, except he looked monstrous, corrupted, deformed and more terrifying than ever; he is clad in a torn red and black version of his coat and helmet, a dark blue version of his shirt, a dark gray belt and blue pants which are reduced to a bloody ghostly tail. He has ghostly light blue skin, skeletal hands with claws stained in blood, a bleeding broken heart on the left side of his chest, black, red and blue tentacles on his back, sharp bloody teeth, blood coming from his neck indicating that there is an unseen bloody scar on there and a magenta eye with the black sclera with blood coming out of his eye. The ghost laughed evilly as Techno Baron screamed at the sight of his dead friend's horrifying state in terror. "W-w-who are you?" Techno Baron asked. "Don't you remember me...Techno Baron?" he said, smiling evilly. Techno Baron recognized him in horror. "A-Ammo...B-B-Baron...?" he asked, stuttering. "That's right, but you can call me "Ammo Baron.EXE"." he said. "Doesn't it sound like some computer file?" Techno Baron asked. "I am aware of that, but I don't wanna talk about it!" Ammo Baron.EXE said, frowning. Techno Baron began to question him. "I have one question for you: Why were you following me around all week?" "Well. I'll tell you why." Ammo Baron.EXE began, "I saw you at my funeral seven days ago. You were sad and depressed right after I died." "Is that why you're doing this?" Techno Baron gasped. Ammo Baron.EXE laughed. "How about if I can give you less misery. Yes?" Then, what came out of him is a loud glitchy roar. It sounded like a computer error noise. "You know what?" Techno Baron shuddered, "I don't need you anymore!" Techno Baron rushed out of his lair, jumped into his Jeep and then drove away. "They always run..." Ammo Baron.EXE said before chasing Techno Baron. Later, after arriving at the cemetery in Sequin Land, Techno Baron parked his Jeep at the cemetery gates, ran out of his Jeep and goes running into the cemetery while Ammo Baron.EXE is still chasing him. The short lizard kept running as he passed the tombstones. His heart was pounding, his veins were racing and we was sweating with fear. He felt like he was in a horror movie. He is the helpless victim and Ammo Baron.EXE is a combination of the ghost, the monster and the killer. "You think you can escape me?" Ammo Baron.EXE yelled. "You can run, but you can't hide! When I get my hands on you, you'll be mine!" Then, he laughed evilly. "L-l-leave me alone!" Techno Baron cried as he kept running. He kept running, trying to escape the evil grotesque spirit until he went inside a mausoleum and ended up in a dead end. "Oh no!" cried Techno Baron. "A dead end! I'm screwed!" That is when Ammo Baron.EXE comes to Techno Baron from behind, laughing maniacally. Techno Baron turned around to realize I'm horror that he is cornered by Ammo Baron.EXE. "It's the end of the line for you, Techno Baron..." he said in a sinister tone. "P-p-please... h-have... m-m-mercy..." Techno Baron whimpered. "Well, that's too bad." Ammo Baron.EXE said. "I don't do mercy to the living! I have killed and eaten many people who have disappeared into the woods!" This made Techno Baron horrified. Then, Ammo Baron.EXE continued, "I tried to do the same to Shantae while getting revenge on her, but she escaped after I attacked her. Now that I have you, it looks like you're gonna die in the cemetery! I wonder what you taste like." Shadowy hands shoot out of the ground as Techno Baron backed away. They continued to spread, but he felt his heart being sore and all full of static. He remembered the moment of what he did. "I touched the Crystal of Corruption." "Of course you did." Ammo Baron.EXE laughed, "But now, it's time for you to die!" "No, I won't!" Refusing to go without a fight, Techno Baron gets in him and starts hitting Ammo Baron.EXE, but Ammo Baron.EXE, having the upper hand, attacked him. Techno Baron stood up, despite being badly injured with bruises, sores, cuts and scars. He was bleeding, he had a nosebleed, he was coughing up blood, his tail is broken, his helmet is also broken and has minor dents and a hole in the left revealing one of his eyes which is a black eye, his clothes are slightly tattered, his neck is sore and his hands and legs are aching. "I will not lose to the dead like you..." Techno Baron said. Techno Baron was about to pull out his laser rifle but a hand shot out of his chest. It then slipped back in as blood dripped on the grass. He fell onto his knees as Ammo Baron.EXE laughed with a sinister grin. "Poor Techno," said Ammo Baron.EXE. "It's a shame that you couldn't last long." Techno Baron was laying on the ground, bleeding heavily. Then, Ammo Baron.EXE grabs Techno Baron by the collar with his tentacles and stared evilly at the wounded Techno Baron as he looked back with full eyes, showing no fear. "I'm...I'm not...afraid of you. ..anymore...Ammo..." said Techno Baron, weakly. "It's okay, Techno," Ammo Baron.EXE said before whispering to him, "Though it's too bad that a head will roll." Ammo Baron.EXE used his claws to slice to decapitate Techno Baron, slicing his head off and putting him out of his misery. Then, Techno Baron's head falls to the ground. Ammo Baron.EXE poked his finger on the top of the chest and through, cutting a line down to the bottom of his belly. He opened it and took out a heart, before eating it. He took out a liver and ate it too. Next is the lungs, and then the esophagus, his stomach, and finally, his intestines. All the blood dripping down. He released the body and it flopped to the ground like a ragdoll. Blood dripping out of the body and onto the grass. He grinned as he stared down at the body. A shape came out of the body and materialized to reveal the same Techno Baron with the same injured looks. Eyes closed, laid down, not speaking. Ammo Baron.EXE began to shudder as he looked down at what he did to Techno Baron with all the joy vanishing away from him. "I'm sorry, Techno Baron. It's all my fault. I didn't mean to do it to you. I didn't even know what I was doing. I hope you forgive me." With all the sorrow inside of him, he picked up Techno Baron's spirit and away from the cemetery. The body growing distant from him as he continued to carry to spirit away. The next day, at Scuttle Town, Shantae was calmly walking in the street, though she is still thinking about the memory of her horrific encounter with Ammo Baron.EXE, making her worried. That is why she didn't tell anyone about it or the disappearances of the missing people that were slaughtered by Ammo Baron.EXE. She can imagine Ammo Baron.EXE hunting down her friends and family, including Bolo, Sky and Rottytops. "Oh, Bolo, Sky and Rottytops, I wish I could tell you what happened, but I don't wanna risk losing you." Shantae said to herself. "I just wanted to protect you from...him." Suddenly, the half-genie sees a crowd of people at the cemetery. She became curious about what happened, so she goes into the cemetery to see what's going on. When she got there, she comes to the crowd to see them surrounding something, making her concerned. Suddenly, she overhears them mentioning a dead body of a murder, making her eyes widen. She goes through the crowd to see the dead body of Techno Baron on the ground, bloodied, wounded and headless. The severed head of Techno Baron has a dull expression in his face, making Shantae more scared. "Techno Baron...?" Shantae said, "What happened to him?" Then she remembered when she encountered Ammo Baron.EXE. She looked at the corpse and imagined Ammo Baron.EXE cornering Techno Baron right before he attacked and killed him. Shantae became horrified and ran out of the cemetery. "Ammo Baron..." Shantae said to herself, "He killed Techno Baron... How could he do this to him? I thought they were friends. Why did he do it?" Then, she sighed sadly. " But I can't tell anyone else about that. I hope the same doesn't happen to anyone else." Days passed. More missing posters are put up all over Sequin Land. The stars shine above the sky as a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air police car drives up to the missing poster on the telephone pole and parks next to the sidewalk. A man and a woman wearing uniforms hopped out of the front seat and took a look at the poster. "Look at that, Sally. Another person missing." The man pointed out. "Where ever they went or how they disappeared, this must be getting worse every minute." Sally crossed, "We were told that a kid went into the forest but never came back." "If this is where they went, then we must got there and find them." The man nodded. They then hopped back into their police car and drove to the forest (where the Crystal of Corruption used to be here) to look for the missing people. When they arrived, they got out, turned on their flashlights and entered the forest. The owl hooted and the crickets chirped as the detective couple continued their search for the missing people. The lights from their flashlights shined on the trees until it hit something in the distance. It looked like a person kneeling down on the ground. "Hey, Bill. I think this must be one of the missing people that they're looking for." Sally gasped. "Okay. Come on, honey. Let's go talk to him." Bill agreed. As they got closer, they heard him say "Will you marry me?" and a woman gasping and saying "Yes. I do.". Of course, a couple getting married. The detective couple walked up to the man and the woman. "Excuse me. Are you two of the missing people?" Sally asked. "What? No. What do you ask? Who are you?" the woman questioned. "We're the detectives. We are on a search for the missing people who had disappeared in this forest." Bill introduced. "Now, have you seen the missing people somewhere? Or maybe, some more evidence to where they are?" Sally asked. A laugh is heard. It sounded faint and psychotic. "I bet this must be the missing person." Bill pointed out. Then, they saw a blood trail. "And this cannot be good. Come on. Let's follow the trail." The two couples followed the trail of blood. This is almost like straight out of a horror movie. A person is shown in the flashlight's light and is lying on the ground. Not moving or even talking. As they got closer, the person is missing his head and had a large hole on the front of the torso. This made the woman shriek in terror. "It looks like there's a murder here." Sally gasped, and then saw more dead decapitated bodies up ahead. "A big one." All the bodies were missing their heads and organs. Who could've done this?! They saw a pirate girl in half horizontally on the ground and her entrails are missing. The married couple's eyes widened as the detectives studied the dead bodies. "We should probably get out of here." the man shuddered. "Alright." the woman nodded. "Why bother?" asked a voice. "You will never escape this place." This made the married couple frightened as the detectives heard it. "Who's there?" Bill asked. "Where are you?" Sally asked. An evil chuckle was heard as the voice said, "It's not really important, but I can tell you this. You think a pair of detectives like you can stop me? You're bluffing. Mortals like you are always weak, especially when they vanish without a trace." "You're insane!" cried Sally. "Whoever you are, you won't get away with this!" yelled Bill. A psychotic laugh was heard as it got closer. "Oh, but I can...and so can he..." Suddenly, a figure came out of nowhere and attacked the married couple, clawing their bodies. The detective couple became shocked as they watched the creature maul the married couple until it killed them and started drinking their blood and eating their flesh and organs. Then, the figure turned around and revealed himself to be the monstrous, corrupted and deformed ghost of Techno Baron; his skin is pale blue, his helmet is damaged with a hole on the left side, revealing one of his eyes, which are now black with yellow pupils and with black ooze dripping from them, his teeth are are bright orange, his hands are mechanical claws, his tail his mechanical, his coat is dark purple, his vest is purple, his legs are a ghostly black tail, he has a pair of broken handcuffs, he has a collar with a chain attached to it and there is blood on his teeth and claws and blood coming from his mouth and down his neck. "What is that?!" cried Bill. "It looks like a grotesque lizard monster!" said Sally. "Hello. You can call me "Techno Baron.EXE"..." he greeted before chuckling evilly. "Techno Baron?" Bill said. "But you were dead." "And so will you two." Techno Baron.EXE said before tackling the two detectives. Ammo Baron.EXE appears next to Techno Baron.EXE, smiling evilly at the detectives. The two detectives recognize him as Sally said, "Wait a minute. You're..." Ammo Baron.EXE laughed evilly before saying, "Yes, I'm the ghost of the deceased Ammo Baron, but you may call me Ammo Baron.EXE. I see you've met Techno Baron.EXE. You know, I was going to hunt you down, but instead, he will do the honors of killing you." Then, he turned to Techno Baron.EXE and said in a grim tone, "Kill them." Techno Baron.EXE lets out a psychotic laugh and was about to claw the detectives until Bill pushes him off them. They get up and aims their guns at Techno Baron.EXE. "We're sorry, Techno Baron, but we we can't let you do this." said Sally. The detectives put their finger on the trigger and Techno Baron.EXE charged directly at them with an open hand. One shot, the detectives missed. "Come on, honey. We must stop them!" Bill called out. The reptilian ghost baron dodged the bullets until a cut on Bill's chest from Techno Baron.EXE came. Bill put his hand on his chest as blood dripped down his suit. "Call someone... Call the sheriffs... The police... Everyone..." Bill begged as he coughed out blood. "Don't worry, sweetie. I will." Sally nodded. And then Bill flopped to the ground and let out his breath. "Aww! Too bad your husband is not here to help you." Techno Baron.EXE laughed. Sally pulled out her walkie-talkie and put it in front of her mouth. "Hello. This is Detective Sally speaking. I found the missing people in the forest, but they were all murdered! I repeat, they are all dead! The forest is haunted by the spirits of Ammo and Techno Barons! You have to come here and condemn the forest! It's not safe here! I need to get out of here-" But a metal hand burst through her chest and she dropped her walkie-talkie. She coughed out blood. Techno Baron.EXE grinned as he released the hand, letting her drop to the ground. He raises his claws, cuts open the corpses and began to rip out all the organs before eating them. Ammo Baron.EXE came up to him, put his hand on his shoulder and smiled."Great job, my friend." "Thank you very much." Techno Baron.EXE nodded, "What should we do now?" Ammo Baron.EXE saw the police lights in the distance and then back to Techno Baron.EXE. "How about we find Shantae?" "That would be great." Techno Baron.EXE agreed. The two corrupted ghost barons flew away from the bodies and out of the forest while each letting out a laugh as the police arrive to the scene and found the bodies. Because of the horrific murders and the hauntings, the forest has been condemned. And as for Ammo Baron.EXE and his ally, Techno Baron.EXE, it is unknown when they will come back. No one knows what they're going to do to Shantae, but who knows.

#shantae #creepypasta #techno baron #techno baron.exe #ammo baron #ammo baron.exe #horror #thriller #supernatural #mystery #violence #blood and gore #cannibalism #major character death #haunting #sequel

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sounds-right · 2 years

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25/02 Dennis Cruz al Bolgia - Bergamo

Sabato 25 febbraio 2023 il Bolgia di Bergamo si muove a tempo con la tech-house irresistibile del top dj producer spagnolo Dennis Cruz. Si tratta di un'altra notte esplosiva per il tempio dell'elettronica sull'A4. E' un party da non perdere che ancora una volta fa scatenare il suo pubblico con la musica dei top dj più importanti della scena elettronica mondiale.

Originario di Madrid, Dennis Cruz è da sempre alfiere di un sound da club sempre originale. Classe '83, inizia a muovere i primi passi a 17 anni come sound engineer, a 20 collabora con artisti rock e hip hop. Da quel momento, la sua carriera è in ascesa verticale. Il suo nome è ormai da tempo presente nelle line-up di festival importanti, come BPM o ADE. Moon Harbour, Defected, MUSE, DIRTYBIRD, e ovviamente quella dei Milk & Sugar sono le label su cui fa uscire la sua musica. La sua nuova traccia, "Una Rumbita", tra techno, house e suggestioni afro, appena uscita, già sta facendo ballare il mondo. Dopo il dj set al Bolgia di Bergamo il 25 febbraio '23, Denys Cruz, a marzo '23, è al Mondo di Madrid (il 9) e il One Marylebone di Londra (il 10).

Con Denys Cruz, a far scatenare la Main Room del Bolgia il 25/02 ci sono pure Dario Sun b2b Donadely, Ferdi, Salvo V, Simon Ricci. Nella Lab Room va invece in scena il party We Know. Il Bolgia apre alle ore 23.00 e si balla fino alle 6 del mattino.

Quello che vede sul palco del Bolgia di Bergamo il 25 febbraio '23 lo spagnolo Dennis Cruz è solo l'ennesimo appuntamento d'eccellenza nel top club. Nelle scorse settimane, e per tutta la stagione passata, si sono esibiti top dj della portata di Chris Liebing, Sam Paganini, Len Faki, Ilario Alicante, Luca Agnelli, Sidney Charles, Piero Pirupa, Leon, Raffa FL, Wade & Fer Mesa, Pan-Pot, Franchino, Marco Faraone, Joseph Capriati.

25/02 Dennis Cruz @ Bolgia - Bergamo

Info e prenotazioni

https://www.bolgia.it/dennis-cruz/

Bolgia

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino

0 notes

djs-party-edm-italia · 2 years

Photo

25/02 Dennis Cruz al Bolgia - Bergamo

25/02 Dennis Cruz @ Bolgia - Bergamo

Info e prenotazioni

https://www.bolgia.it/dennis-cruz/

Bolgia

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino

0 notes

tarditardi · 2 years

Photo

25/02 Dennis Cruz al Bolgia - Bergamo

25/02 Dennis Cruz @ Bolgia - Bergamo

Info e prenotazioni

https://www.bolgia.it/dennis-cruz/

Bolgia

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino

0 notes

birdsareblooming · 5 years

Text

I Can’t Forget.

BirdsAreBlooming 300 Followers Fic

(Ya’ll voted for a fic! Then you voted for it to be Sans and Papyrus centered! Then ya’ll voted for it to be emotional! So!)

[Part one] [Part two] [Part three]

Frisk knew only two constants when it came to the skeleton brothers. One was that Sans was calm, mellow, and couldn’t crack. Two was that Papyrus was bright, happy, and loud. Remember these two constants, because they are important later.

It is always good to have constants, but it was especially good to have constants with the skeleton brothers. They were very unexpected. Literally anything could happen in their presence. Papyrus could walk on air to grab a toy from the roof, Sans could step into the fridge and step out of the bathroom only a second later, Papyrus could run at impossible speeds to win a quick, purely non-competitive race, and Sans could be at every street sign of that race, somehow. At this point, Frisk had welcomed expecting the unexpected.

But they hadn’t expected this.

“HUMAN!” Called Papyrus, from inside the house door. “HURRY UP PLEASE!” Frisk sprinted over to the door, trying not to trip over the weight of the empty box they carried.

“You can call me Frisk, you know.” They signed, after dropping the small box inside.

“I KNOW, I KNOW, IT’S NATURAL TO CALL YOU THAT IN THESE SURROUNDINGS.” He had a point. They were back at Sans and Papyrus’s old house, most of the underground was packing personal items for the surface, and the skeleton brothers weren’t free from this rule. Frisk wanted to get out of school, so they offered to help the brothers pack the remaining things from their home.

It was weird being back here. The familiar smell, the same snow crunching under their feet, the same places Frisk had gotten very used to. But it was weirder that it was so empty. Frisk didn’t like it being so empty, it gave them a weird feeling. Stepping into the brother’s house while it was empty wasn’t natural. The painting was gone, the pet rock was carefully moved, the couch was half in a box Papyrus was shoving it into, the tv had disappeared completely. “ALSO IT’S HABIT, SORRY.”

“It’s quite alright!” Frisk signed, smiling, picking up the small box again. “Where do I put this?” Papyrus looked up from shoving the couch in a giant box.

“OH! THAT’S FOR MY ROOM. MY BOOKS ARE GOING IN THAT ONE.” Frisk nodded and skipped up the stairs, and opened Papyrus’s room with a side push.

“sup kid.” Frisk lifted their head to see the shorter brother, carefully sticking action figurines in a padded box.

“Hi!” They responded, placing the box by the book shelf. “What’s cook’n?”

“noth’n much. just help’n pap out.” Frisk grinned.

“So you’re…” they leaned in, “...doing something?” Sans let a chuckle slip.

“maybe.” he laughed again, “it’s nothn’ much, and it’s helping pap’s sanity.” Frisk looked at him confused. “it’s just been a little stressful is all,” he placed another action figure into the box, and started closing it, “my bro’s great, but he’s not the best at socialisation if you know what i mean.” Frisk knew what he meant. Papyrus was a sweetheart, and amazing to be around, but he came on strong. It also didn’t help that skeletons in the human world were a sign of death, and Papyrus was a monster, humans were still getting used to them. So Papyrus coming on strong and loud and frightening wouldn’t do him any good. He never understood when he was doing wrong in a conversation, and Frisk got that. “he doesn’t look it, but it’s weighing on him.”

Frisk nodded. It was weighing on everyone, especially them. Monsters had trained themselves to keep a happy face in bad times, it would take them a while to adjust. Sans lightly punched Frisk in the arm,

“hey, lighten up will ya? we didn’t come here to be sad sacks.” Frisk smiled and started placing books into the box. The differences were frightening. “ADVANCED PUZZLE CONSTRUCTION FOR CRITICAL MINDS.” Was first in the box “GOOD NIGHT STARS” was the second “LONG DIVISION PROBLEMS FOR LEISURE AND RECREATION” was followed by “A SMOL CATERPILLAR”, “THE ILIAD”, “IF YOU GIVE A DOG A BONE”, and “ADVANCED SCIENTIFIC ENGINEERING [201X edition]”

“be careful with that last one,” Sans said, “it’s old and classic.” Frisk carefully placed “PEAK-A-BOO WITH FLUFFY BUNNY” into the box, and started closing it.

“Anything I need to pack from the closet?” They said, opening it up.

“nope, paps got that ages ago.” Frisk looked around. The bed was packed up, so were the posters. Papyrus had gotten a new and better computer, so the old one’s data had been harvested and put into a new monitor. The carpet had been rolled up. The box of bones had a new home. It felt… wrong, somehow. “let’s get these boxes downstairs, then i can sleep.” Frisk nodded.

Recently Sans had surprisingly enough been doing things… kinda. He was participating willingly and even showered every once in a while. But there was still laundry undone and dishes he was supposed to do left in the sink. He was getting there, and getting better. Alphys had said the sun was good for his health, and him being forced to do somethings had caused him to willingly do other things. He would never admit it, but he was getting closer and closer.

When they walked down the stairs Papyrus wasn’t there, but the couch was fully in the box.

“Where’d he go?” Frisk asked.

“probably to get more boxes, he’ll be back.” Sans placed the boxes he was carrying next to the door, and went to lay on the couch, but only found a giant box sealed instead. He shrugged, and slid on top of the box, and started snoozing. Frisk giggled.

“SAANS?” Sans sighed and sat up, and Frisk turned to the door. Papyrus’s voice seemed worried. Sans waited till Papyrus was at the door, to do otherwise would mean Sans would have to raise his voice, which he wouldn’t do anytime soon. Frisk leaned against the wall as the door creaked open.

“what’s up bro-” Sans stopped suddenly, then pretended he hadn’t. The taller brother’s face was wrinkled into a confused and worried expression, and he was looking down at what he was holding in his hands. Clasped gently was a large blueprint, folded over itself. From the distance it was too difficult to understand.

“SANS, WHAT IS THIS?” Papyrus turned to his brother, holding up the blueprints.

“looks like some old garbage to me,” he shrugged, “unless it’s some old blueprints for one of your puzzles, you must have forgotte-”

“‘NEED TO REALIGN THE GRAVIMETRIC WAVE REFRACTORY.’”

“what?” Sans stammered.

“THAT’S WHAT IT SAYS,” Papyrus pointed at the blueprints, and continued reading, “‘ONCE THE REROUTE THE SECOND SYSTEM IT SHOULD CAUSE A REACTION.’” Sans looked away from his brother.

“sounds like technobabble to me.” he said, “real sci-fy stuff-”

“DO YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?” It went quiet for a second.

“huh?”

“I READ BOOKS.”

“i know you’re very good at it.” “I MEAN, I READ SCIENCE BOOKS…IT HELPS ME SLEEP.”

“and?”

“THIS ISN’T MEANINGLESS TECHNO JARGON,” Papyrus looked right at his brother, “THIS IS-” Sans nodded his head in Frisk’s direction. Papyrus stopped, and sighed. “HUMAN, YOU SHOULD GO BACK TO YOUR MOTHER NOW!!” he said, putting on a smile. “BESIDES, YOU HAVE SCHOOL TO DO.”

“I wanna stay!” Frisk signed, as Papyrus was pushing them out the door.

“I KNOW BUT... UH... WE HAVE... SIBLING THINGS TO DO!! YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.” Frisk crossed their arms and gave Papyrus a stern look in the doorway. “I’LL SEE YOU LATER HUMAN! THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR HELP!!” Frisk sighed.

“You’re welcome.”

#undertale #undertale fic #oneshot fic #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #sans fic #papyrus fic #sans and papyrus fic #[Part One]#[I Can't Forget}#part two out tomarrow #deltarune #[I Can't Forget]

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