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#(i listened to holy until you let me go once and the whole composition for this just got beamed into my brain)

bangtiddies · 5 years

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Erasers

Pairing: Jin x female reader Genre: Fluff, Soulmate AU Words: 1,644 Warnings: minor swearing

Summary: You never thought to contact your soulmate through the erasers you always lose until you lose something extremely important and irreplaceable.

You find yourself in this predicament almost every day; rummaging through your bag, trying to find the thing you need in this particular project. You give up trying to find it in five minutes, sighing in frustration before turning to the person sitting next to you.

“Hey, Amy?”

Your friend hums, looking up from her manuscript and giving you a tired smile while adjusting the glasses perched upon her nose, “what’s up?”

“Do you have a spare eraser I can use?”

“Yeah, I do,” she laughs as she opens her pencil case and searches through it, “how many erasers does your soulmate have now?”

You sigh, “too many.”

“Here,” she says, handing you a white eraser with a very familiar character on the cardboard surrounding it. Amy returns to jotting crotchets and quavers down on her manuscript, while you frown at the character as if it’s offended you.

“Hey, Amy?” you ask, and she hums again in response, so you continue your question, “what’s this character?”

Amy looks up again to look at the character and blushes, “oh, that’s RJ, a LINE FRIENDS character.”

“A what character?”

“Um, it’s like a series of characters from a popular Asian chat app. I got that eraser when I went back to Taipei to visit my family,” she frowns at your interest, “why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you want to know about the character?”

You wish you could drag her to your house and show her why. Instead, you explain, “this character’s on most of the stuff that my soulmate loses.”

“Huh,” Amy says before giggling, “so your soulmate is either a LINE FRIENDS fan or a BTS fan.”

Oh. You know of BTS. Actually, you’ve recently fallen into the pit of BTS, even if the prideful musician in you will never admit to succumbing to mainstream pop. You’ll stick to privately enjoying the music by the suddenly famous K-Pop group.

What you don’t know, however, is how BTS relates to this long sheep-looking character.

However, you don’t get to ask Amy any more questions because your tutor decides right at this moment to walk past you. So, you quickly rub out the mistake you made on your manuscript and continue composing your jazz band piece, just like you were supposed to do.

You’re fucked.

You’re royally fucked.

After weeks of writing and erasing out musical notes on various pieces of manuscript paper, you had finally written down a good melody for your jazz band piece last night, after drinking three cups of coffee, feeling energised and extremely sleep-deprived at the same time. And you were going to work on it today when you woke up, so you could have it perfectly ready for the composition check-up meeting with your tutor next week – only to find that it’s missing.

You’ve searched through your pile of manuscript paper for twenty minutes before giving up. And you know that there’s no point turning your whole room over to find it. Because you know exactly where it is.

The melody you had written last night is in the hands of your soulmate.

You grab a pillow from your bed and let out a frustrated scream, muffling it with the pillow so your flatmates or neighbours won’t hear. After you’ve calmed down a little and thrown the pillow back onto your bed, you notice something red underneath your pile of manuscript paper on your desk. You pull it out to find that LINE FRIENDS character again, only now it’s on a memory stick and not a keychain or a pen or something that doesn’t seem important.

Your breath hitches. If you’ve lost something important to you, then that means that this memory stick could be important to your soulmate.

You’re not usually one to pry, and if you were in any other situation, you would put that memory stick in your drawer full of things that your soulmate lost. But right now, in your moment of stress and frustration, you have something in your hand that would give you a piece of who your soulmate is. Other than the fact that they like this RJ character.

Your heart is beating as you insert the memory stick into your laptop, and you can’t tell if it’s because of anticipation or guilt. When the memory stick opens, you see that it only has one file; an audio file titled demo_jin.

It takes you a few minutes of contemplating before you decide, fuck it, and you open the audio file.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you most certainly not expecting to hear an unfamiliar melody being sung by a very familiar voice. A voice you’ve fallen in love with recently.

You spend the next few hours browsing through YouTube and Spotify, listening to every single BTS song and every single compilation of Kim Seokjin’s lines. And you don’t find the melody at all. Realisation dawns upon you. It’s an unreleased song. A demo.

You now have an obvious clue on the identity of your soulmate – a connection with Kim Seokjin of BTS.

You own a lot of erasers, partly because you use them a lot when you write music, but mostly because you love buying and collecting cute erasers.

And so, you feel slightly betrayed and heartbroken when Amy suggests you start naming and putting your number on every single one of your erasers.

“It’s so you can get that amazing melody you were raving about back,” she reasons, and you can’t disagree with her. Still, you don’t want to ruin the cute ones.

“Can’t I just put my number on all the plain white ones?” you whine.

“Stop being precious about your erasers, Y/N. They’re erasers.”

You mumble something about Amy being heartless before reluctantly naming and putting your number on all the erasers you own.

“This better work,” you say to her once you’re done, looking sombrely at all your precious erasers, and she rolls her eyes at you in response.

“If your soulmate doesn’t call you, they’re a fucking idiot.”

You spend a whole week staring at your phone, waiting for an unfamiliar number, any number to call your phone. You also try to recreate that melody but to no avail. You really need that missing manuscript. You always prefer writing music on paper but after this incident, you’ve been using Sibelius to avoid any risk of losing another piece of manuscript. And it’s not the same.

When Amy comes over, you tell her, “my soulmate is a fucking idiot.”

“Why?” she looks at you with a confused look, but also etched with fascination – she probably suspects that your soulmate finally called you.

“You said that if my soulmate doesn’t call me, they’re a fucking idiot,” you groan, slumping on your bed and burying your face in your pile of pillows.

Amy sighs, “it’s only been a week. They’re probably really busy and haven’t thought about the extra details on the many erasers they probably have from you.”

You open your mouth to say something – anything to prove how much of an idiot your soulmate may be – when your phone starts ringing. You dive for your phone like a teenage girl in a teen movie waiting for a boy to call. Which, in your case, might actually be the situation. If your soulmate is a boy.

You check the caller ID. It’s an unknown number.

(Your mind does whoops and cheers for the potential that it might be your soulmate, but you try to tamper it down.)

You answer it hastily, “hello?”

There’s a small pause. A breath of hesitation from the other side.

You’re about to say something before a masculine voice says, “hello, is this... uh... Y/N?”

You’re sure you’ve heard this voice somewhere before, but you don’t dwell on it.

“Yeah,” you say, coolly to hide any ounce of fear or awkwardness, “and who might this be?”

“I’m Jin. I have your... uh... sorry my English is not very good.”

Your mind clicks. Holy shit. It dawns upon you that you’re talking to Kim Seokjin.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say, “um, I have your memory stick with your audio file and I’m wondering if you have my manuscript?”

“I’m sorry, what is manuscript?”

You laugh nervously, “sorry, it’s like a piece of paper with music written on it.”

“Oh yes,” Jin says, “I saw it. It’s very good.”

You blush at the fact that an international superstar (and possibly your soulmate,) complimented you on your music, “thank you.”

“So why did you write your name and number and call me on your... uh...”

“Erasers?”

“Yes! Those! Why?”

You sigh, “that manuscript, it’s my only copy and I need it for a project.”

“Oh,” Jin says, “and I have it.”

“Yeah. I’m also guessing you’re halfway across the world so there’s no chance of me getting it.”

There’s a pause. Amy, whom you’ve forgotten is sitting on your bed right by you, gives you an excited look.

Soulmate? she mouths. You give her a look that (hopefully) says, of course it is; have you not been eavesdropping?

“Oh!” Jin says, bringing you back to the phone, “I can send photo!”

“Yes!” you exclaim, “please! Oh my god, thank you, that would be helpful.”

“Okay, I’ll take photo and send soon.”

“Wait,” you say, remembering the RJ memory stick on your table, “what about your memory stick?”

“Memory stick?”

“The one with your singing.”

“Oh, you can keep it. My present to you.”

“Oh,” you say, looking at the memory stick. RJ stares at you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Jin says, “bye-bye! Talk later again?”

“Yeah,” you smile, “talk to you later.”

(After five months of messaging and calling, you finally meet Seokjin.

He runs to give you a hug as soon as his eyes fall upon you.

And in his arms, you fall deeper in love.)

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ineffably-in-love · 5 years

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Good Omens Soundtrack: The “Lift Home?” Music Analysis

So, I’ve been way too deep into the Good Omens OST lately, and it’s a real shame that not every piece we hear in the show made it to the final soundtrack. One of the pieces most people miss is the romantic violin song that plays in Episode 3, when Crowley hands Aziraphale his unharmed books and bastard angel canonically realises he’s in fact in love with that demon thanks Michael Sheen.

I thought it would be fun to unpack this piece of music --- and even though Aziraphale and Crowley don’t have an explicit theme of their own, by now I firmly believe that this melody is Their Theme. Read my take on it under the cut :’)

First of all, a brief definition from Wikipedia on what a ‘motif’ is in music: “A motif is a short musical phrase, a [...] recurring figure, musical fragment or succession of notes that has some special importance in or is characteristic of a composition.”

With that outta the way, let’s dive into this.

So, this is basically the melody we’re hearing when Crowley hands Aziraphale the books:

But that’s not the first time we hear this melody. It first shows up in the Main Theme, after the A Minor and Major parts, that, as far as I’m concerned, are Hell and Heaven respectively. Or at least two different ideologies/ideas/fractions. This new little theme is still in A Major, but it’s not as elaborate as the melody from before. It’s playful, sure, but very simple and repetitive, maybe even to a point where it can get kind of annoying. It goes like this:

As you can see, both motifs start on an E --- the same note that the Main Theme (the first thing that plays in the intro) starts with. The melodies go down from there, to D sharp and C sharp respectively. But the little new motif takes a very different turn with C sharp, because C sharp is what distinguishes the sound of A Major from A Minor. It’s E - C sharp - F sharp. This new motif does not turn into A Minor, like the Main Theme did. It ends on a high A and stays A Major throughout.

That’s very interesting, and I kept wondering --- what does it mean? Why is there such a cut in our intro music? It’s a completely new theme. What kind of theme is this?

Whose theme could it be???

Crowley and Aziraphale, of course. This melody and the fact that it stays in A Major until the very end contain a lot of things they stand for: That they stay true to themselves and their Arrangement. That they share the same “origin key”, but turn it into something that’s solely their own. Their positive nature (we’re in Major, not Minor). But more on that later.

So when do we hear it in the show? The motif does not always play during vital turning points in the plot involving them (I’ve talked a bit about ‘Is That You?’ here), but I think it does play when something changes fundamentally about their relationship. Something personal. I’ve not actually counted all the times the motif is played in the show, but here are some instances as examples:

Crowley’s Lullaby: Sung in C Major, for David’s sake, maybe? Crowley and Aziraphale have thought of this *brilliant* idea to keep the Antichrist normal. They’re actually watching the wrong boy, but they don’t know that, so they’re very enthusiastic about it. but they’re actually being dumbasses Crowley sings to Warlock as “the evil fraction”, but it’s actually part of his and Aziraphale’s mutual plan, and as of right now, everything is going according to that plan.

It’s interesting that a variation of the Main Theme plays when they enter the scene as the Nanny and the Gardener. It’s the “representative tune”. But in that intimate moment, when Crowley is alone with the child he believes to be the Antichrist, he sings our motif, the little new one that sounds so simple and sweet, during the mission that might save his and Aziraphale’s precious Earth.

Before that, we’ve only heard the new theme briefly play when Mr Young names Adam after his birth in the hospital (in the key of C Major) and before Crowley tries calling Aziraphale. You might think that it is out of place here, but remember: The Antichrist is what will drive Crowley and Aziraphale for the next eleven years and make them work together -- even when they first think it’s all about Warlock.

We’re Not Killing Anybody: This is their break-up scene in Episode 3. Now we’ve changed to A Minor (E - C - F). We even get a bit from ‘Holy Water’ in here. But our motif begins when they start their break-up: “This is ridiculous, you are ridiculous”, showing how their relationship is changed by this conversation and by their different ideas about dealing with Armageddon. Showing how their past relationship is coming to a sad end. “It’s over!” Sob.

Bookshop’s ON Fire: An altered version (F - D - B flat - A - D), but it’s there. The motif goes up to B flat before it falls to A and D, showing Crowley’s great emotional distress and the destructive mania he drives himself into. Listen to the choir when he picks up the Nice and Accurate Prophecies, one book as a souvenir, the last thing that connects him to his angel now -- that’s our motif. Sobbb.

Requiem for A Bentley: Even more altered, distorted even (A - G sharp - C - B) --- The Bentley has accompanied them with the greatest loyalty, and their theme is showing here, too, if you listen closely to the strings at the end. The Bentley is gone, that’s how close they are to Armageddon. Everything’s a mess already, how much worse could it get?

End of This Story: We’re back! Well, sort of. Not A Major, but G Major, the key of the Them. One note below A. An only slightly altered version of our motif plays as Aziraphale believes the war is already won, believes that he and Crowley did it. It comes up again when he starts talking about the Beginning and how his husband was a wily old serpent and how he was technically on apple tree duty and---

All Change: They reverse their bodyswap and chatter happily on their bench in St James’s Park. We’re finally back on the old pattern in the key of A Major. After the motif, there’s a nice line cliché down to A [=harmony’s “going down” note by note in a very pleasant way; Queen used those a fair bit, e.g. in ‘Somebody To Love’] and then to E without resolving the tension that comes from this dominant of A Major. It only gets resolved in the piano version of Nightingale later on, which is written in A Major as well.

Okay. So far, so emotional the ugly sobbing. But, especially when watching Ep3, you might be asking yourself: Isn’t the “Lift Home” scene the first time in Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s mutual past when this motif plays?

The answer is yes.

Let’s revisit Episode 3 before the Blitz scene. At the Globe, when Aziraphale looks at Crowley, eyes begging him to make Hamlet a success using a miracle, an E plays quite prominently and you could think it would kick off our little motif. But it doesn’t; it somewhat changes into a sweet little downwards melody, ending in a happy little E Major chord (while showing Aziraphale’s sweet smile) before cutting to Paris. E Major is the dominant to A Major, as written above, and the dominant always means tension. Tension that, to our ears, feels like it needs to be resolved, ideally to the tonic, which in the case of E Major could be either A Minor or A Major. Now we don’t actually get that feeling right away, because the whole phrase is written in E Major, but keep it in mind still.

Because apart from the many times the Main Theme plays (e.g. when Crowley enters the church), I think that’s the closest we get to our little motif: The two of them bickering about their Arrangement and doing each other’s deeds, when suddenly Aziraphale wants Crowley to do something for him. Not for head offices, not for God, not even for poor Shakespeare, but for him. And when Crowley says yes, “my treat”, our angel gives him the most precious smile ever. Urgh.

The motif first plays in its proper form when Crowley hands Aziraphale the books and offers him a “lift home”. This is when Mr Sheen decided that Aziraphale would finally realise his love for Crowley, and the camera and music department support his acting rather strongly in that regard. As for the instruments, I believe it’s a violin playing the melody, with those cute recurring chimes sprinkled on top. The chimes play so often on this soundtrack I’d have to analyse their meaning/symbolism as well, oh God. Back to our scene with Aziraphale staring into the middle distance. Finally he’s on the same level as Crowley, who’s had it bad for 6,000 years already, and maybe Aziraphale even knows. I think that in this scene, Aziraphale not only realises his own love for Crowley, but he also realises that Crowley very much loves him as well, and has loved him for a damn long time already. That’s a big effin turning point for these two.

However, this would mean that the variation we hear in the Blitz is actually the original version of our motif! It’s a quiet tune that sounds like realisation, yearning and loving, and it’s written in A Major. It would mean that the times we hear it later on in the timeline (e.g. the Warlock lullaby or the happy ending) are actually an evolved version of Aziraphale’s love theme from the Blitz.

Let’s take a look at this early motif again:

It goes up to G sharp before falling onto F sharp. This kinda sounds like a sigh, doesn’t it? The second time around, the melody goes to G sharp once more, before falling down to E -- an even more longing sigh in here, a quickened heartbeat in the quavers there... At least that’s what I hear :’) Aziraphale’s heart is practically beating out of his chest here. That’s one brilliant way of musicalising the feeling of falling in love if you ask me. But the best part is that the music also conveys Aziraphale’s confusion about those feelings, his insecurity, because we do not get a resolution. We are in A Major but we end on E Major yet again.

Now, let’s look at the evolved version we hear in the intro once more:

The melody is much more refined by now, it’s steadier, quicker and overall more complete, mainly because we end on an A Major chord. We climb up from our E Major to a high A and the thing finally, finally resolves. Aziraphale and Crowley have come into their own, they are comfortable with their feelings and their mutual love for one another. It’s whimsical, playful and laid-back at the same time. This little motif is about them and them alone, it’s the signifier of their relationship, and it has turned into their Theme. In this regard, the omniscient intro has given us a fully developed theme since Ep1, and it has been evolved from Aziraphale’s little love motif.

So, if you ask me, this melody is as close as we get to a Theme for Crowley and Aziraphale. It’s more joyous than the Mystery Theme (which plays very prominently during their pep talk to Adam), mischievous even, but quiet and solitary when compared to the pompous Main Theme. It also lends itself to more serious tones when shifted in key, as seen above. But most important of all, it gives us a resolution after Aziraphale’s confusion in Ep3. Now we have a happy ending in fucking A Major, the key that is said to sound the most emotional, bright, proud and joyous; the key that closes the series with ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’.

Bach, famously one of the demons’ composers, once said that “the glorious heights of the light of A Major have only seldomly been really reached” by other keys in music. If that isn’t worth a Hallelujah then I don’t know what is;;

Thank you for reading!

#dear god I'm in love with that gif #ineffable husbands #episode 3 #music #meta #analysis #david arnold #good omens #*

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ghostofasecretary · 6 years

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🌻?

i really like seeing you on my dash. i don't say that enough, you're lovely.and now, are you ready for some STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS RAMBLING? i hope so because that's all i've got.lately i’ve been trying to follow impulses - “oh, hungry? drop everything, eat right now. oh, might want to make a phonecall tomorrow? great, what are all the logistics, gotta do that.” so in this case, oh, you asked me something? i’d better answer, i’d like to. that's all to say that most of this answer was written last night because i stayed up too late; there are pros and cons to the impulsive approach. i keep watching The Handmaid’s Tale. i have extremely mixed feelings on Atwood - Stone Mattress was fascinating, shameless enough to be delightful and trashy, poignant enough to feel true, and very well crafted. her Oryx & Crake series just depressed me, though. Atwood knows what she’s doing, you can tell, and she has convictions, but the world she lives in is not…well. we live in the same world. i just find hers relentlessly grim, sometimes.i haven’t read The Handmaid’s Tale the book, yet, but the tv show is gorgeous. holy shit, the composition of basically every shot has destroyed me. also, uh, painful lying and trauma and abusive setups. that moves me too. i think i’m kind of an optimist? for a Known Crazy person who spent a significant chunk of their life suicidal, that feels a little weird to say, so let me clarify. i don’t like the obnoxious “everything turns out for the best!” optimism, but i do think most things return to equilibrium, that people will do their best, that we have the chance to do better. gratitude is something i have intensely mixed feelings on but, well, sometimes it does help. Atwood's stories are showing something true about the world, but there's no relief in them for me. i want to return to hope at the end, instead of that grim bravery that comes at the end of the world, when you know you might make it out but you will still never make it out. the other day i read a thinkpiece on “pain acceptance” in light of the opiod crisis. it was short and not exceptional, but i remember it because it focused on the perspective of sick people about equally with the perspective of doctors. (that's a bit of a muddled comparison, doctors can be sick and have chronic pain issues and most people become sick and not all sick people are sick forever. still.) some of the quotes about pain management resonated with me. "I may as well do things I want to do even though it will hurt, rather than just do nothing and still be in pain." (from Harvey, a lady with EDS) my junior year was awful on a lot of fronts including the body one: i spent so much time thinking about how much i hurt because it was there and it hadn't been before and pain is trying to tell you something, you have to listen, right, you can't not. it wasn't until i had medications and was thoroughly burnt out trying to find answers that i went "fuck this, i'm going to act like i'm not in pain." and then i pretended (as well as one can while taking three fat pills a day and two prn in addition to the mental health cocktail) that i never had issues to begin with, and now that my fingers are getting warped i'm starting to get worried again. i don't necessarily think "fuck pain" is a good coping mechanism but on the other hand living in fear is terrible and i like to be fear reductionist. most of my negative reactions to the piece where about the context, because "acceptance is sometimes useful as a way to cope" is kind of threatening when coupled with "the opiod crisis is BAD." one of the first anecdotes was about a lady with a spinal injury who Didn't Need Opiods, too, which...was not exceptionally convincing, i think the stats on spinal injuries are similar to those of paraplegics and quadriplegics, though i could be wrong. these stats are fairly different than things like, idk, fibromyalgia, which tends to work similarly to depression in terms of quality of life. ...and which i was diagnosed with, and which has bothered me much less since i went "pain isn't real," and also once i got effective anti-migraine meds and nice antidepressants and such. the topic of "how real is fibro as a diagnosis" has been haunting me for years and i still don't have a conclusion aside from "it's as real as shit life syndrome, which while flippant and sad does seem to be a thing. it's also about that useful a diagnosis in terms of finding helpful treatments." opiods are probably best avoided but most people don't want them if they have better options. in other news, i registered to vote yesterday and will do my civic duty in trying to pick less shitty legal weed laws. (there's also the concern about the effects of weed on bipolar, which having seen those personally...yikes. but that's an anecdote and in general, let's do less bullshit about drugs, kthanx.)i don't really think pain is something we get to get out of, but right now i'm in pain and there have been whole weeks where i wasn't, really, not enough to register. context is everything. today i went to Wal-Mart's home and garden section and it was just like a public garden only it was right next to my work and it told me what drinks go well with sweet basil.

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doomedandstoned · 6 years

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Atomic Mold Speaks... And The Universe Listens

~By Mari Knox~

At the New Year dawned, Doomed & Stoned gave you another listen into the always fascinating rumblings of the Italian heavy underground, debuting a new music video by Italian psychedelics ATOMIC MOLD. Their new album, 'Hybrid Slow Flood' (2018), as it just so happens, was just released today via Electric Valley Records. It's time, readers, to enter Atomic Mold's trippy world of sight, sound, and substance, with our embedded scene reporter, Mari Knox. Check it out... (Billy)

HYBRID SLOW FLOOD by ATOMIC MOLD

Let's start with the classic introduction. Who are Atomic Mold and what is your origin story?

Atomic Mold is: Fila Marco on drums, Marotta Davide on guitars, and Bonizzato Antonio on bass and vocals. The project started at the end of 2013, after the stoner band in which Marco and I played split up. After two months of testing drums and bass together, we had already written the pieces that would later make up our first album, issued in January of 2014. Massella Luca joined us and, in October 2014, we recorded the first self-titled LP.

In March 2015, we recorded a 12" split LP shared with German band Mount Hush for the Electric Valley Records label. That same month, Luca left the band and we played live in the bass and drums version for a whole year all around Italy. Exactly one year later, in March of 2016, Luca re-joined the band and live shows, which have often been abroad, giving us great satisfaction. During the long absences of Luca, Marco and I wrote the tracks that make up Hybrid Slow Flood. In January, we started recording that same album and Luca decided to leave the band permanently. Immediately after that, Davide Marotta came forward, a guitar player with whom there was a very good feeling, since that first jam in June 2016 and we went back to the studio to finish the recordings.

Each of you has his own interesting musical background. Toni and Marco played with the hardcore punk band Reset Clan and Davide had his own stoner rock project, Holy Fuzz. Tell us about your personal influences and how these affect the Atomic Mold sound.

Marco: My influences come certainly from black metal, death metal, and drindcore -- genres that I've always listened to, probably the reason for the energetic feel with which I beat the skins!

Toni: Marco and I have been playing together since 2005 in various projects and genres, very different from each other -- from stoner to hardcore punk. Musically, we have grown a lot together. "Yellow Crocodile" definitely makes us feel that we have hardcore influences. Every now and then in the rehearsal room, the vein gets closed -- we go totally ham -- and the bpm start to get crazy!

Davide: My musical influences are tied to the blues from the very beginning. For me, it has always been key to my way of conceiving and playing music. Throughout the years, I have developed an affinity for particular sounds like Hawkwind, Can, Jimi Hendrix, and so on. Growing up, I have undertaken darker and heavier sounds, first of all Black Sabbath, then Electric Wizard, Conan, and so on. I always try to capture details that are always distinct and different to add and blend into the composition and my way of playing, influenced by all the genres that distinguish my musical background.

'Hybrid Slow Flood' marks your musical return to the scene after two years. We can feel a little twist about your sound now -- it's tougher and strongly lysergic. What do you think has changed in your music and what kind of expectations do you have about the new record?

Marco: In the periods of time in which we played as a power duo, just drums and bass, we have experimented a lot with our sounds and I think that even if they were difficult times they helped us to grow. With the arrival of David, we have made our sound more complete and consistent.

Let's talk about the topics of the disc: from the title to the four tracks which comprise it, tell us how 'Hybrid Slow Flood' was born and what meaning we can find here.

Toni: "Hybrid Slow Flood" represents the slow, yet constant load of traumas, painful experiences, and disappointments with which we fill our minds in everyday life. The topics of the lyrics inside the record (what little words there are) revolve around hallucinations and travels within one's self, journeys that often border on the absurd and touch extremely conflicting emotions. We composed the tracks of Hybrid Slow Flood in two times: during the first long absence of Luca and then during his leaves of absence once he was back in the band -- for all of us that was a difficult period to deal with and I think that this has forged the sound and lyrics of the tracks.

Since your previous release (the Mount Hush/Atomic Mold split) until today, you've always worked with the Sardinian label Electric Valley Records. Surely we can say you have a lovely relationship with them, right? How was this collaboration born?

Toni: Yes, with Electric Valley Records, we have a very good relationship. They contacted us during the release of our first album and we started working immediately after for the realization of the split with a good harmony. In October 2016, with the tour in Sardinia together with Fatso Jetson, we met Marco Nieddu who is a great man and really puts his heart in what he does. For this reason, we naturally decided to issue Hybrid Slow Flood on Electric Valley Records, as well.

Regarding the artwork, you've relied on the work of the artist Errecì, who is the same guy behind the cover of the previous release. I'm really curious to know what the 'Hybrid Slow Flood' artwork means, with all of its cosmic and mysterious vibes?

Toni: Well, we found ourselves really happy with the work he did for the split and we like very much the work that he often publishes on social media, so we decided to rely on him. We sent him some lyrics that I wrote, that will end up in the next effort we are working, to use as a track. They are about a person in contact with Mother Earth -- something increasingly rare for us human beings -- and the energy that it releases.

In my opinion, one of your strongest musical characteristics is truthfulness, authenticity. Let me clarify: listening to you both live and on record, I always get the feeling of attending a jam session. I’d like to know how you organize your musical compositions and arrangements and how it takes place during your days in the rehearsal room.

Marco: We spend a lot of time improvising in the rehearsal room, trying to create real sound-images. For example, the track "Wood Line" was first born from a jam and, often when we are on stage, we get carried away and we dilate it a lot while performing.

I know you really love playing live. Besides Italy, you have played several times in Germany, where I've heard the crowds are very enthusiastic. Can you confirm this? Where did you like to play more? Have you got some funny anecdotes to tell us about your live experiences?

Toni: We can confirm that abroad the public is very warm and, even though in Italy there are some wonderful situations, every time we have been abroad, there people are around the stage from the beginning of your set and when you finish your thing they still want more, again and again, and this happens with all the bands in the lineup. People go to concerts to have some real fun.

Davide: The last time we were in Rosenheim, we were going to sleep at the home of a guy who had offered to host us, supposedly. After the evening, we were all pretty high and when we loaded the van we started looking for this guy so we could sleep for the night. No one could be found for an hour and, in the end, we found him completely drunk, crashing on the backstage sofa without the slightest bit of strength to bring us home or tell us where his home was. At that point, we went to sleep in the van to minus-five degrees weather and it was snowing all around us! That was a crazy night for one of us -- you have to guess which one -- that in his drunk and ice-cold dream-sleep started barking!

What are you doing lately? Are you writing new tracks or did you prefer to focus on promoting and touring for the new record?

Davide: In addition to the promotion of Hybrid Slow Flood, we are arranging some brand new pieces, this time composed, worked through, and created in a three-member lineup. These we will soon record for the next project of Atomic Mold.

Let me ask you one last question: If you could bring back a past legend or choose a modern band, whoever you particularly like, which one would you take on stage with you?

A band that we would like to resurrect and be able to see on the beaches of Sardinia with us is Sungrazer!

Thank you, on behalf of Doomed & Stoned, for your time and for spending a few minutes with our readers.

Thank you so much, Mari, and thanks very much also to Doomed & Stoned for their support.

Follow The Band.

Get Their Music.

#D&S Interviews #Atomic Mold #Verona #Italy #Stoner Rock #Sludge #Metal #Electric Valley Records #Mari Knox #Doomed & Stoned

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copkillinganarchist · 4 years

Text

The Old Chunk Of Coal

Every so often are precious stones. Every so often are Stones... what's more, the other one, I am only an old lump of coal, yet I will be a jewel sometime in the not so distant future.

I love tunes. I love the verses and furthermore the pounding vibrations of the lower note beats. I recollect these lines from two nation exemplary holds back. I recollect them since I know the sentiment of being viewed as a cluster of coal. It's a negative inclination. It's less the shading that is a killjoy, the murkiness' included when one considers coal. It's a petroleum derivative. It's acceptable just for loading onto an effectively heinous natural or figurative passionate injury circumstance and exacerbating it. We should light up a match to the coal and consume it until it's utilized into debris. At that point how about we trust the breeze will dissipate it, as we would even prefer not to discharge the cinders once it's value has been spent. We're selfish now and then for administrations delivered. Coal structures under the ground. Without light. I think it deteriorates. I think coal isn't so much as a unique thing. I believe it's packed gases or spoiled wood or something disposed of regardless.

Alright. So you get the image that I like the words to tunes that sing about trust in spoiling old disposed of components.

I have a companion that is a shamanistic healer. It began that he was going to assist me with finding my direction and discover my voice. At that point I began cleaning his home for him. This seemed well and good sooner or later for reasons unknown. We likewise share melodies. Gen X-ers are consistently blossom youngsters on a fundamental level. I think neither one of us truly realizes why I'm as yet spiffing up the castle. I know at some level we bargained house keeping for rose above contemplation meetings. However I returned with a plan. I'm going to scour my way through his latrines and into his heart. At the point when I arrive, I will mirror my Light on his pathway and afterward transform him into the arms of the one genuine God to deal with. Senseless hypothetical egotistical me, accepting he required me to spare him. I raise my Shaman since he let me know in three separate mending meetings I was a jewel so stunning that soon numerous around me would perceive and see me. I figured he was talking in the profound domains and in emblematic language. Presently I'm not entirely certain.

Alright. So you get the image that I've been on an otherworldly journey to associate and bind myself directly into the mainline association with my Creator, God as I was instructed. You know the one in the Christian box? In any case, something occurred en route I didn't anticipate. My perspective with respect to customary Western Christianity flipped. I think now, that Jesus was without a doubt the substance that lead me into the Kingdom of God. In any case, since I've really addressed and researched from unique source information, I think God is Spirit, the whole Spirit of the God and that God is finished unadulterated Love; the starting, making, insightful Source which is the vibration of unadulterated white vitality light. The Light of all cosmology and creation.

Something has likewise transpired since my unique companion and the Shaman helped me discover my voice and soul once more. I started to compose. I started to compose productively Loose Diamonds. I compose constantly. I can't stop it. It's been around a half year now of constant composition. I compose day and night. I expound on everything without exception. I have parts to state and don't have the foggiest idea why. My "still little voice" is exceptionally chatty. Pretty much anyone that is interacted with my email radar go, has proposed I compose professionally. I've recently been sitting tight for the approval signal from somebody. I've been at the convergence trusting that the light will turn green. Today it occurred.

You currently comprehend I live to compose. I locate my general surroundings stunning and wondrous and need to enlighten everyone all concerning it.

I have a place with a churchwomen's association gathering. It's 75-100 ladies who can discover time on Thursday mornings to meet up with aim of being God regarding, together. One of the educators for one of this present season's classes, I am regarded to state, has become a companion of mine. Judy is a raven-haired holy messenger of a lady loaded up with effortlessness, insight and poise. She's the minister's better half. She's additionally extremely interesting. I'm steadily persuaded God has a solid dry comical inclination. He should have. Take a gander at us!

Today Judy astonished me. She solicited my consent to peruse one from my composed works. It was convenient and identified with the President of the United States. She felt it really was great for certain ladies to hear. I would not like to appear to be traitorous in these unsafe occasions, directly after 9/11 so I concurred. I was thankful she was not going to cause me to get up and read my article. I pondered simply playing hooky today, to maintain a strategic distance from the shame I'd no uncertainty feel and maybe evade the unforgiving mockery or negative analysis of my sisters in Christ. (Oh no. It sounds a touch like my impression of my kindred man is cockeyed, doesn't it?) God will take a shot at this issue.

I didn't back down. I appeared. What I didn't envision occurred straightaway.

Judy didn't hold up until little gathering time. She got up there and read my article to the whole bundle of all around reproduced, astute ladies at the month to month planned all-congregation ladies' lunch get-together before our composing class. I was embarrassed! I began to check out me. The meal room was loaded up with round tables seating 8 ladies a table. A little fire-orange rose grew out of the focal point of each table. These women started to resemble a bundle of newly slice roses to me. Such a bouquet is such an excess for somebody like me. These women are the best of the best on Mercer Island, WA. a.k.a. The Golden Ghetto. My children and I just live on the island because of a Section 8 HUD lodging voucher for poor people.

I looked as ladies cleared water out of the edges of their eyes. I looked as eyeglasses began being eliminated and noses were blown. I watched ladies conflicted between gazing at me ( attempting to stow away in an edge of the front of the room) and needing to remain bolted on Judy perusing My composed words. I looked as the hints of my story bobbed against my mind. I was astonished most definitely. I 'd never listened to my words uproarious. I was entranced by the article. It created a quiet stable down in my internal center association with God. It struck dread (as in stunningness) in my heart as I understood something powerful had happened to my fingers to compose such sounds.

At the point when the article was done, the ladies extolled. They mentioned duplicates to have as one. I was announced a skilled essayist. I was lowered into quietness, once more. I saw something unrecognizable. I saw refracted light beginning to crystal off these ladies back at me. Much the same as when a precious stone is held up to the daylight. I contemplated this sight.

As though this was insufficient, the principle bunch disbanded into the littler study hall gatherings to get ready for the motivational lessons of the day. It would be 90 minutes of learning and sharing Life exercises, female Christian style. Judy had another astonishment available for me. She wasn't through with me yet on the grounds that she was the teacher of the composing bunch I had a place with for this littler gathering.

The theme being talked about was Changing Times. Judy started giving instances of how exemplary creators had communicated as she browsed Emerson, Lewis, and a couple contemporary light creators. Partially through the class, Judy yanked out one more of my accounts and read it to this class as her last model! I was frozen the ladies would become angry, exhausted and furious at this restraining infrastructure on their time. There were many talented ladies in this gathering. All with amazing inspiring stories to tell. Judy avoided mincing words about how profoundly she respected my capacity to catch pictures and offer my heart-musings to a crowd of people. She read Homecoming Parade. She excerpted and compacted the long story into one that hit the imprint. More tears streamed and mouths hung free. You could've barely heard anything at all in the spot. More acclaim. I contracted under the table and attempted to fool around benevolently to soothe the inconvenience of thankfulness and acknowledgment.

What I saw as I checked out this gathering of 30 movers and shakers all things considered, paralyzed me. I saw it emblematically, just like my direction. However, by the by, it was there for the review. I saw an ideal perfect blue-white, splendid cut jewel being held up and set into a platinum solitaire setting.

At the point when the gathering finished, a lady I'd become more acquainted with as of late moved toward me. Her name is Judy Boynton. She cut off her accreditations for the gathering. She was an expert distributed essayist of fiction and genuine books. She was a practiced craftsman of figures. She was a trustee on the Board of Pacific Northwest Writers Conference subsidiary with Pacific Lutheran University. She'd been an individual from this gathering for more than 25 years. I was intrigued. Less by her accreditations, as magnificent as they were, however by the force and power behind her eyes. This lady had insight and purpose. She was focusing on me.

She revealed to me she comprehended what she was discussing. She let me know and the gathering I WAS a skilled author. She disclosed to us she'd seen enough to know the distinction between one that might want to be an essayist and one that IS an author. I fell into the last class. She gave me numbers and leaflets and advised me to be at the following gathering meeting. She clarified this is the place distributers, operators, and writers meet each other with the purpose on distributing composed works of legitimacy. Names like Ann Rule and J.A. Jance were talked about during this equivalent day by others as they mentioned my consent to have them maybe contact these "companions of theirs."

Rarely in a lifetime that one really knows about a groundbreaking second or day. I've been graced with one of those minutes. Today it appears, my general surroundings is starting to see and perceive the old lump of coal got the residue pressure-washed off of her so hard and seriously by Life, that she'd advanced into a jewel solitaire of worth and notice.

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auskultu · 6 years

Text

Leonard Cohen: Beautiful Creep

Richard Goldstein, The Village Voice, 28 December 1967

And the child on whose shoulders I stand   whose longing I purged  with public, kingly discipline  today I bring him back   to languish forever,  not in confession or biography,   but where he flourished   growing sly and hairy   — Leonard Cohen (‘The Spice Box of Earth’)

AN ELEVATOR man with hairy hands grumbles “shit,” as he takes me up. It is a massive mid-town hotel, in steep decline. The corridors are long and lit occasionally, like a cardboard coal mine. Humid ladies in black lace seem to peer from every transom, and old men with their backs turned lurk in every shadowy corner. There is a smell of stale cigars, or is it piss? I knock politely on a wafer-thin door, and wait.

Finally it opens, and Leonard Cohen, Canada’s most acclaimed young poet and novelist, offers a seat and some coffee. He has been listening to a tape of the half-completed album on which he will soon make his debut as a pop star (a year ago that would have given even me pause, but not today, when Leonard Bernstein picks the hits and the Partisan Review talks about “Learning from the Beatles”). His verse—collected in slim volumes perfect for pressing roses—so unabashedly romantic that it sits among my New Directions paperbacks like some later day Ossian from the North.

With Annie gone   whose eyes to compare   with the morning sun.  Not that I did compare,  but I do   now that she’s gone.  — ‘For Annie’

No wonder Allen Ginsberg huffed out of a meeting with Leonard Cohen muttering, “This place looks like a ballet set.” There is a sinewy quality to those muscular images as they stretch across a page. There is a shameless agility to those leaps and conceits, which seems ethereal next to the boog-a-loo of modern verse.

But Leonard Cohen is a Visceral Romantic and he can hit you unawares because his emotions are recollected with anything but tranquility. He suffers gloriously in every couplet. Even his moments of ecstasy seem predicated on hours of refined despair. Leonard does not rant: he whispers hell and you must strain to hear his agony.

The fact is, I’m turning to gold, turning to gold.  It’s a long process, they say it happens in stages.   This is to inform you that I’ve already turned to clay.  — ‘The Cuckold’s Song’

Today, he faces me across a hotel room with the sun shining second hand in the windows down the block. The drapes are as florid as his verse. In fact, the room could be the set for most of his poems. The bedspread is faded, and you can hear the toilet. Atop the bureau is a seashell ashtray, embossed with Miami palm trees. To this pasteboard Chappaqua, Leonard Cohen has added only a Madonna decal for the mirror, and a terrible cold.

His front pockets bulge with tissues and Sucrets. The cold seems appropriate; his nose aches to be filled anyway. It is a huge nose, etched by some melancholy woodcarver into the hollows of his cheeks. He wipes it and wheezes gently as we hear a tape of his song, ‘Teachers’.

Though he claims he has always written with a typewriter for a guitar (“I sometimes see myself in the Court of Ferdinand, singing my songs to girls over a lute”), Leonard Cohen has been spending this past year or so creating lyrics with real melodies. He made his pop debut recently as Judy Collins’ beautiful person. Her choice was inspired; Leonard Cohen has written her best material—songs of love and torment powerful enough to be fairy tales.

And just when you mean to tell her  That you have no love to give her  Then she gets you on her wave length  And she lets the river answer  That you’ve always been her lover.  And you want to travel with her  And you want to travel blind  And you know that she will trust you  For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.  — ‘Suzanne’

“I think my album is going to be very spotty and undistinguished,” he says in greeting. His eyes sag like two worn breasts. “I blame this on my total unfamiliarity with the recording studio. They tried to make my songs into music. I got put down all the time.” He sits back on his bed, folds his hands in his lap, and lets his voice fade into an echo of itself: “It was a continual struggle… continual… they wanted to put me in bags. I thought I was going to… crack up.”

He is modestly addicted to cracking up. References to breakdowns past and future dot his conversation. He seems to judge periods in his life by his failure to cope with them. His favorite words—or those he uses most frequently—are “wiped out” and “bewildered.”

“When you get wiped out—and it does happen in one’s life—that’s the moment… the REAL moment. Around 30 or 35 is the traditional age for the suicide of the poet, did you know that?” (You look around for razors, pills, sharp edges, or easy plunges.) “That’s the age when you finally understand that the universe does not succumb to your command.”

That moment magnified into theme, is the chief concern of his major novel, Beautiful Losers. It is a multisexual love story, ecstatically, lyric like his poems, but deeply committed as prose to expressing its theme through an accumulation of detail. Its protagonist, a petty researcher, is victimized by the love of his wife and of his best friend. They control his life: soothe him, fuck him, teach him, cuckold him, and ultimately destroy him. Their triangle, joined on all sides, is further complicated by Catherine Tekakwitha, an Indian saint who fixes herself in the protagonist’s consciousness as an extension of his wife (also an Indian) and his own suffering. Martyred by the suicides of both his lover-tormentors, our hero is left to ponder the moral of Catherine’s life: suffering is madness, but it is also the sacred ground where Man encounters God. Somehow, we are all fated to walk that ground, is Leonard Cohen’s message. To embrace that agony of communion is to live with grace.

It begins with your family But soon it comes round to your soul.  Well, I’ve been where you’re hanging  I think I can see where you’re pinned  When you’re not feeling holy  Your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.  — ‘Sisters of Mercy’

He was born in Montreal, to a wealthy Jewish family. “I had a very Messianic childhood,” he recalls. “I was told I was a descendent of Aaron, the high priest. My parents actually thought we were Cohenim—the real thing. I was expected to grow into manhood leading other men.”

He led himself through McGill, where he studied literature with Oxonian aplomb. A professor published a volume of his poetry on the University press, and Leonard Cohen became a writer. It was, he insists, “as accidental as that.” Because if he had had a choice, he would have become a revolutionary. But he approached radicalism with a bad cold, and a thorough knowledge of the Tonette. Though the Montreal Communists fascinated him with their paranoia and their certainty, he was less than embraced by his chosen confreres. “They saw me as a symbol of the decline of the enemy,” he recalls. “I never had that heroic revolutionary look. There was a certain openshirted quality I could never duplicate, I always looked different, maybe because my folks owned a clothing factory.”

Today, he wears poet’s gray, and a soft worker’s hat hangs on his closet door. He is getting old; the trousers of his cuffs are automatically rolled. He watches you jot that down in the middle of a point about politics and you wonder if he knows you plan to use it.

“I’m not a writer coming to music in the twilight of his youth,” he says suddenly. You look up. He begins to discuss the rock scene, then and now. Once, he thought Elvis Presley the first American singer of genius. Once, he played a Ray Charles record till it warped in the sun. Once, he thought of himself as Bob Dylan’s ancestor. “It wasn’t his originality which first impressed me, but his familiarity. He was like a person out of my books, singing to the real guitar. Dylan was what I’d always meant by the poet—someone about whom the word was never used.”

Until a short time ago, Leonard Cohen had never heard Dylan. He has spent much of the past seven years in a cottage on Hydra, Greece. He still returns there regularly for replenishment, the way F. Scott Fitzgerald’s heroes should have gone back to the Midwest. It keeps him from making too many scenes outside himself; that seems to be the scene he can make best.

Anyhow, you fed her five MacKewan Ales   took her to your room, put the right records on,   and in an hour or two it was done.   I know all about passion and honor  but unfortunately, this had really nothing to do with either:   Oh, there was passion I’m only too sure   And even a little honor  but the important thing was to cuckold Leonard Cohen  I like that line because it’s got my name in it.  — ‘The Cuckold’s Song’

“I wrote ‘Beautiful Losers’ on Hydra, when I’d thought of myself as a loser, financially, morally, as a lover, and a man. I was wiped out; I didn’t like my life. I vowed I would just fill the pages with black or kill myself. After the book was over, I fasted for ten days and flipped out completely. It was my wildest trip. I hallucinated for a week. They took me to a hospital in Hydra. One afternoon, the whole sky was black with storks. They alighted on all the churches and left in the morning… and I was better. Then, I decided to go to Nashville and become a song writer.”

He came to New York instead, thanks to a lady who is now his manager. And here he is—slaving over the songs he calls “Eastern Country laments,” trying to make them sound the way they read. Things are happening for Leonard Cohen. ‘Suzanne’, his best known lyric, made the charts on a vacuous cover version by Noel Harrison. Two recent compositions appear on the latest Judy Collins album. And Buffy Sainte Marie will include selections from Beautiful Losers on her next LP. Sometimes the two visit Saint Patrick’s, where there is a bas relief of St. Catherine on one of the Cathedral doors. Buffy puts daisies in the statue’s hair. “She sees the suffering in Catherine,” he explains. “She feels the thumping on the sky.”

If his forthcoming album is a good one, Leonard Cohen may well become one of history’s odder choices for pop stardom. But the men we deem to worship are never ordinary; that is the one passion they must guard against. If the time is ripe for a guru with a cold in the ego, Leonard Cohen’s modest agony will stand him in good stead.

“My songs are strangely romantic,” he admits, “but so are the kids. I somehow feel that I have always waited for this generation.” He pulls out a letter from a young girl who wonders over his unremitting despair. He frightens her because she senses that he has achieved an understanding of life, but he is sad despite it. She prays that the comprehension she seeks will not bring her such misery. She prays for him, and for herself, that he is really blind. And she ends by calling Leonard Cohen a “beautiful creep.”

Real tears form in the corners of his eyes, but modestly, they do not flow. He sighs for real. “That’s what I am—a beautiful creep.” He excuses himself and you grab for the letter when he is gone. That too is real.

Beautiful creep! You can’t help hearing him in the toilet; he pisses in quick panting spurts. You want to put him to bed with hot milk and butter, turn up the vaporizer, and kiss him good night.

And you want to travel with him   And you want to travel blind   And you think maybe you’ll trust him  For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.  — ‘Suzanne’

#Leonard cohen #poetry #folk #singer songwriter #1967 #1960s #sixties #60s

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aftgonice · 7 years

Note

What I would like to know: are there any operas you could recommend? :)

*cracks fingers*

I’m SO glad you asked :D

Some boring disclaimers first:

Obviously not everything works for everybody and this is a list of personal favorites or operas that are usually recommended for getting started to the opera world.

Be aware that some of these might have trigger warnings but I haven’t been able to find a list and I don’t feel comfortable trying to label the warnings myself. They also depend a lot on the scenes and direction used in any particular production. So if you’re afraid of a particular trigger being present in one of the operas I list here, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll try to answer you.

I honestly can’t write much about every single rec I write here as far as plot and music goes. I’ll include YouTube links to the full opera if I can find it - some of them won’t have English subtitles but I tried my best. Google has all the translated librettos anyway so a quick search should do. Also, I haven’t seen some of versions I’m linking so I can’t always guarantee that they’re the best ones but often it’s just the best I could find. (Also let me know if the links don’t work because every country has different copyright laws)

And let me just say that regardless of what you want to see, the best thing for starting out would probably be find a theater next to you and go see something live.

Let’s start wit my personal Holy Trinity brought to you by the amazing duo Mozart - Da Ponte. Basically what you need to know about these three operas is that they’re the best in the whole world. They’re all in Italian and Da Ponte was the best librettista ever and a really interesting person, but I digress.

Le nozze di Figaro

From the French play La Folle Journée, ou Le Mariage de Figaro by Pierre Beaumarchais (I read it a bit in French and the opera’s libretto seems very similar). It’s clever and funny and the music is obviously glorious, but that goes for everything that comes out of Mozart (and Da Ponte).

Don Giovanni

This is my most favorite opera and composition forever and ever. The protagonist is amazing and is one of the best and most iconic anti-heroes of the whole literature and everyone should watch it at least once in their life. The version I linked was the best one I could find in video even though I think some of the tempo is weird (too slow at times and too fast at other times :/), but here’s my favorite recording of it.

Così fan tutte

Contrary to the other two above, this is an original story by Da Ponte and it Does Not Disappoint. The plot is so modern and you wouldn’t think it was written in 1789.

Let’s move on to my second favorite opera composer: Gioachino Rossini. He’s done both opere buffe (funny) and dramatic ones. He’s done operas both in Italian and in French but the ones I’m linking are all in Italian. I’m more into his comedies than the tragic ones and I also think they’re a better rec for someone who’s just starting out, but anyway here’s a short list in popularity order:

Il barbiere di Siviglia

The plot is actually a prequel to Le Nozze di Figaro, so some of the characters are the same. There’s a couple popular pieces that everyone has heard at some point in their lives.

La Cenerentola

Literally “Cinderella”. There’s a few differences from the original story and the Disney one that everyone knows (even though this one by Rossini has been my “original” Cinderella since I never watched that cartoon as a kid lmao).

L’italiana in Algeri

This opera is so funny and so underrated but it has some of the best comical situations in the whole history of opera.

Il viaggio a Reims

This one is really funny too -it has a couple more serious parts but overall it’s just pure fun from start to finish.

Let’s move on to my third fave, Gaetano Donizetti. He’s done so many but to start out I’m only going to rec two:

Lucia di Lammermoor

This is a dramatic one but it’s one the best and most popular ones from its time period. It has one of the most iconic examples of belcanto and even if you don’t want to see the whole opera you should just listen to this scene followed by this one because boy can the human voice do some amazing things!

L’Elisir d’amore

Probably his most famous opera buffa, it’s really popular and for a good reason. I personally love some parts but I’ve seen it too many times to really want to listen to it on my own again, but it’s a really good choice for starting out.

I noticed my favorites also follow a chronological order, so I’ll just continue following the same order with a couple more recs from popular composers:

Georges Bizet:

Carmen

The only French opera from this list lol, I love it so freaking much and it might not be the easiest opera to start with but there’s at least a couple of pieces that you should definitely listen to.

Giuseppe Verdi:

La Traviata

Probably one of the most popular dramatic operas out there. Not my favorite, but a really good start if you’re new to this world.

Macbeth

Yep, like the Shakespeare one. It’s actually my favorite opera by Verdi even though it’s not his most popular one. It’s dark and Lady Macbeth is a fucking badass.

Rigoletto

Inspired by Le Roi s'amuse by Hugo but eh, not really my favorite one either, but also a really popular and “easy one” to listen to. The female main character pisses me off but whatever.

Aida

This is one of my favorites by Verdi together with Macbeth. Not only is the music wonderful but the story has one of the best female characters imo (not the protagonist but her rival actually).

Moving on to Puccini:

La Bohème

Tosca

Turandot

Madama Butterfly

They’re all sad and dramatic (only Turandot has a somewhat happy ending). The music is more modern (we’re in the late 1800s - early 1900s) and my personal favorite is la Bohéme because it portrays some realistic situations that were unseen until that point in an opera (like a group of friends living together and joking with each other, couples fighting, people just hanging out at a café and so on). Madama Butterfly is my second favorite and it always makes me cry so much.

I could mention many more but I’m just dropping a final one by Leonard Bernstein:

Candide

Obviously inspired by Voltaire’s Candide, ou l'Optimisme. It’s in English and it’s everything you might expect from something inspired by Voltaire’s work. Even if you don’t want to listen to the whole thing please listen to this aria called Glitter and be gay because it’s hilarious and just…yeah listen to it. (And here’s a shameless promotion of a fandom-related post that I did a while back and that nobody saw lmao)

Anyway, I could go on and on but if you or anyone has more questions I’m always happy to help if you DM me or send me an ask!

(I didn’t even begin to talk about all the possible AUs that one could make out of any of these operas because I want to keep this post relatively clean but I already have a couple in mind - one of which I already outlined actually - but again, if anyone’s interested feel free to send me an ask.)

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kelolon · 7 years

Text

On “Agape”

(Or, The Closest I’ll Ever Get to Meta, Probably)

This is like some kind of weird, disjointed masterpost on why I love Agape. It’s not particularly deep or thought-provoking and it has a lot of bad words (sorry) - I’m not the best at this stuff. But it’s something I felt like writing about, so here we are. Enjoy! (Or don’t, see if I care.)

6/22/17: Updated with info from the guidebook!

So. Agape.

Where to even start? I love everything about Agape. The song, the choreography, the overall message - it’s far and away my favorite program. Please allow me to talk about it at unnecessary length.

Yuri: “Damn it. Who cares about agape?”

Me, that’s who.

The official stuff

The guidebook has this to say about Agape (this is a somewhat rough translation - feel free to correct!):

With unconditional love as its theme (in opposition to Eros) is the impressive "In Regards to Love ~Agape~", with its boy soprano overflowing with the feeling of translucence. When he was assigned the song by Victor, Yuri said "this innocent image makes me wanna barf," but during his mandatory trip to a waterfall, memories of his time with his grandfather surfaced, and he put those feelings into the program. He had realized that the feelings from when he was very young and he skated to see the joy on his grandfather's face were agape. From the choreography, it was said to be "made in the image of things like a white bird or something holy (Miyamoto)", so it feels light as a feather, and yet you can also feel the strength of the will of someone who has something to sacrifice.

There's beauty in the limit of what can only be done "now" with an androgynous appearance. It's an earnestly flexible and delicate program, but the jump composition includes two quads in the second half, putting it at a high level and prompting Yuuri to name him "a beautiful, ever-evolving monster." Although the triple axel is in the first half, you could say that the program composition is challenging for Yuri, who is still young and lacks stamina. Also, in the same way as Yuuri's "Eros", the filler between components is strong, making it a difficult program as well. With a firm foundation in ballet thrown in, movement is in the orthodox Russian skater way, and the costume can't be overlooked.

The concept

What is agape? baby don’t hurt me Okay no, this is serious shit. It’s one of at least four Greek words for love, two of which should be immediately recognizable to YOI fans (the other being eros, of course). The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy has a lot to say about love, including agape-flavored love:

Agape refers to the paternal love of God for man and of man for God but is extended to include a brotherly love for all humanity. [...] Agape arguably draws on elements from both eros and philia in that it seeks a perfect kind of love that is at once a fondness, a transcending of the particular, and a passion without the necessity of reciprocity.

Beautiful, right? Almost brings a tear to your eye. Or maybe that’s just me. Anyway, I feel like this sets the stage pretty well. Agape evokes certain themes: purity, selflessness, clarity, innocence. Not necessarily traits that embody Yuri as a character, but that’s what makes it interesting, isn’t it? (I’ll go into this more later.)

The song

Yuuri: “It’s very clear and innocent, like someone who doesn’t know what love is yet.”

Holy shit. I really, really love this song. I can listen to it over and over and have done so many times. It’s just gorgeous. I do enjoy Eros, too, but something about Agape just really resonates with me. I’m going to punctuate this liberally with lyrics (fun fact: music with lyrics wasn’t allowed in ISU competition until 2014), which I have taken from the YOI wikia in the case of the Latin-English translation. The Japanese-English ones were done by me.

Since my life is only temporary, it desires ardently the eternal love

The translation of this line from Japanese to English (rather than Latin to English) is somewhat different:

This life, driven by passion, is like the briefest flicker I pray for an eternal love

The addition of “driven by passion” is fitting (as opposed to the Latin’s use of “desires ardently”). It makes it seem a little more forthcoming, which is very appropriate for Yuri, who is very obviously driven by passion.

I will believe, I will give, I will wait, I will honor I will work, I will give thanks

Here, too, the Japanese-English translation differs slightly:

I believe, I sacrifice, I seek, I revere, I bear it and I give thanks

I feel like these lyrics in particular do speak to him at least a little. When you remove the religious connotations (whether or not he’s actually religious at all seems to be up for debate - personally, I take the giant, gaudy cross necklace he wears in WttM with an equally giant grain of salt), a lot of these words ring true. Sacrifice? Check. This kid provides for his family, who he rarely gets to see, and has little in the way of friends. Work? Double check. He’s been busting his ass almost his whole life. The waiting part is iffy, but I guess I have to give him credit for holding off on doing quads while still in the junior bracket, even if that was only to get Victor to choreograph his next program. It totally counts.

And at the end, opening doors hidden to us, solemn and famous, it will take care of us to us, solemn and famous, it will take care of us

And the Japanese version:

At last the hidden door is exposed God's great spirit appears, bringing with it pure healing

Clearly, the second is more explicit when it comes to the religious themes. I think in some ways the Japanese version kind of expands on the Latin version, which seems a little more vague.

One can certainly speculate that there are death themes at play in this song, with death presumably being the “hidden door.” The final two verses can be interpreted to be a reference to death as well (the Japanese version is not much different, so I’ll only share the Latin):

The grand, grand Mercy. Ah! I hear your voice My freedom is near! My life with love, the peace of benevolence That this is the eternal happiness, I pray.

The only real difference between the Latin and Japanese versions are that "Mercy" is replaced with "god's love" in Japanese. Whether this “eternal happiness” refers to something like the afterlife is probably subject to interpretation unless there’s some translated commentary floating around that I haven’t seen (which is certainly possible).

On the other hand, it could just be some kind of reference to opening your heart to God’s love or whatever. Who knows? Not me, clearly.

Yuri: “Switch them! That piece isn’t me at all!” Victor: “You have to do the opposite of what people expect. How else will you surprise them?”

Yuri makes it no secret that he doesn't care for this song. He's Not Into It. When Victor plays it for him and Yuuri for the first time, he proclaims that "this innocence crap makes [him] want to barf." He wants Eros, but of course that's not how Victor assigns them and he winds up with Agape. This is the part where I admit I'm really glad, because Yuri is my favorite character and Agape is my favorite program. What can I say.

The choreography

How do you take a song (and concept) like Agape and a character like Yuri and make it actually work? The program itself, of course. Choreographed by Victor (as he originally promised), it does a fantastic job of turning an angry little hellspawn of a teen into the embodiment of the highest form of love.

(Please excuse my extremely fake photoset - tumblr will not let me do what I want. Thanks tumblr.)

The program begins with him facing the ground, and then reaching up towards the sky. Possibly to a higher power? As the program comes to an end, he’s got both arms extended upwards, hands clasped together as if in prayer. That makes it a little less ambiguous, especially considering the song closes with the words esse oro, or “I pray.”

The program composition is as follows, according to the official guidebook:

Triple axel Flying sit spin Change-foot camel spin Quadruple salchow/triple toe loop Quadruple toe loop Step sequence Combination spin

It also notes that the planned components were not changed for the Grand Prix Final.

You can watch the choreography as performed by a real person on the second BD, and you can also watch Johnny Weir do part of it on Instagram!

The costume

Yuuko: "It's the see-through costume of legend from Victor's junior days! I never thought I'd see it in person! It's so beautiful..."

I don’t know what to say here. It’s pretty. Look at it. (It’s my phone case.) I do think it’s worth noting the vague cross shape over the chest and the fact that the shoulders look somewhat like angel wings, tying into the religious themes of the song.

The part where I ramble aimlessly

Yuuri: "Everyone's drawn into Yurio's agape performance. I can tell it's completely different from what I saw in practice. No one can look away from this beautiful, ever-evolving monster!"

I think the fact that Agape is at such odds with Yuri's personality has a lot to do with why I enjoy it so much. He's called "a beautiful monster," and aside from the implication that his off-ice persona is quite different from what he typically exhibits on the ice (with the obvious exception of Welcome to the Madness, which is basically him going “hahaha, fuck you” and finally doing what he wants - I highly recommend reading @ice-tiger-kitten‘s fantastic WttM meta!), Agape (and Allegro, I guess) really embodies the “beautiful” part of that, whereas the monster comes out in WttM. Agape is very ethereal and angelic, playing into his “Fairy” nickname quite well. Which he undoubtedly hates, but hey. I happen to enjoy it. In the end, the “Punk” nickname comes out on top, anyway - WttM cemented that pretty solidly.

Yuri: “Agape... unconditional love. To me, that means grandpa.”

With that said, I don’t think Agape is that outlandish a choice for him. He did find his “agape” in his grandpa, after all. It takes him a little while to realize it - and even longer to really embrace it - but it’s a perfect example of unconditional love. It’s when he’s with his grandpa that we get to see what he’s like underneath all the prickly bullshit. He may not form relationships easily, but I think when he loves someone, he really loves someone. Maybe not unconditionally, but it’s obviously a mistake to think he doesn’t feel things besides anger and arrogance. Aside from the scenes where he’s with (or thinking about) his grandpa, he also shows this side of him when he goes out of his way to bring Yuuri pirozhki on his birthday and in his friendship with Otabek, who he actually roots for in spite of their inherent rivalry. Honestly, that’s a post of its own for another day, but I think it’s worth mentioning.

Yuri: “Sorry, grandpa. I'm too busy trying to skate the program to really think about agape at all!”

At Yuri’s first performance of Agape at Hasetsu, his performance is technically correct, but the “agape” feeling isn’t there, and he winds up losing to Yuuri. The next time we see it, at the Rostelecom Cup, he’s thrown off when he discovers his grandpa can’t stay to watch his performance and becomes angry, falling on a jump he hasn’t screwed up in a long time. In his inner monologue, he claims that he’s “not feeling agape at all.”

Despite the initial difficulty getting into it, though, Yuri nails Agape during the Final and manages to break Victor’s world record short program score. If he was simply going through the motions, stringing together jumps and spins, he would not have scored as highly as he did. This isn’t to say he doesn’t employ strategies to maximize his points (like backloading programs and doing Tano/Rippon jump variations, aka the thing where you raise one/both arms in the air), but there are elements of IJS scoring that focus on presentation - the program components score, which includes the following:

Performance/Execution: Performance is the involvement of the skater/couple/teams physically, emotionally and intellectually as they translate the intent of the music and choreography. Execution is the quality of movement and precision in delivery.

The performance aspect of this score includes “style and individuality/personality.” In addition, choreography is scored based on things like “purpose (idea, concept, vision)” and interpretation is based on the following:

Effortless movement in time to the music

Expression of the music's style, character, rhythm

Use of finesse to reflect the nuances of the music

Needless to say, if Yuri wasn’t able to pull off the concept of Agape, his scores would have suffered. It can certainly be argued that it’s just the performer in him that gets the job done, but I think the fact that he becomes able to infuse his own feelings into the program is what closes the gap.

Lilia: "His short program will have 'agape' as its theme. I believe he's found an entrance to 'love' through his many encounters with others. People shine brightest when they seek to understand what kind of love sustains them."

He may not like it - indeed, when left to his own devices, he does things like WttM, which could not be more different from Agape - but it works. They both do, somehow. He really does make Agape his own, and it’s completely believable.

...Well. Mostly.

#yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky #agape #in regards to love: agape #on love: agape #why are there so many goddamn titles for this song #some semblance of meta i guess #mine

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houseofvans · 7 years

Photo

Art School | Q&A w/ Andy Kehoe (PA)

We’ve been following the magical and mystical works of Pittsburgh based artist Andy Kehoe for some time, and we’re excited to have him for our latest Art School Q & A. Through his own unique visual language, Kehoe creates mesmerizingly imaginative and otherworldly places where his mysterious inhabitants venture into mystical interactions with the “awe and grandeur of nature.” We chatted with this brush wielding wizard on various topics from his upcoming show at Thinkspace gallery, his process of creating some of these resin layered works to how he recently delved into the world of Magic the Gathering!

Photographs courtesy of the artist

Hey Andy, tell us a little about yourself.

I’m just your typical run of the mill Korean/German/Irish-American trying to survive the mean streets of Pittsburgh with nothing but luscious head of hair, a foolish dream, and a sharp knife that thirsts for the blood of my enemies.

In non-wise ass terms, I’m an artist that lives and works in Pittsburgh, PA. I share my house/studio with my lovely, awesome wife, Ash, and our insufferable furry children comprised of one dog, Gizmo, and three cats, Gremmy, Sir, and Mia.

Last year is finally over, what were some of the highlights? What were your favorite projects or shows?

I had an absolutely insane year of art making in 2016. It started in June with my most recent solo show, Fantastical Romanticism, at Jonathan LeVine Gallery. That was immediately followed by 3 group shows in the Fall. Then came the holidays, which are always a super hectic time for me with print sales and the usual holiday madness. It’s safe to say that 2016 was the busiest year of my life and, though it was very rewarding, I was glad to see it come to an end.

My LeVine show was definitely a career high point for me. I put so much work into that show so it was great to see it all come together in the end. I wanted the show to be big and super detailed, so that added up to many sleepless nights. And man, was it down to the wire. I had so much going on in the last month and I remember looking at my notes and my crazy person dry erase board thinking, “My god…What have I done? How the holy hell am I going to pull this off?.” After fighting back the urge to violently vomit and weep, I just had to take it step by step and hope for no unforeseen delays. When working on multiple pieces at once, my goal is to get all of them to a point in which I’m comfortable I can finish them in the last month of work. So when a piece is pretty close to completion, I’ll put the piece aside and focus on those that need more attention. Usually, a large majority of the pieces get finished in the process.

For this show, I had to keep bouncing between pieces and almost all of them needed to be finished in the last few weeks. It was an intricate and chaotic act of juggling to get them all done in time. I’m still unsure of how I actually pulled it off.

Any new and cool places you haven’t shown that you got to show at?

I also got to show some original work in Australia for the first time which was a real highlight. It was a smaller group show at Outré Gallery in Melbourne. I got to share the gallery with the super talented Femke Hiemstra. How cool is that? It seems like I have a surprisingly strong following in Australia. In fact, almost half my print orders these days get shipped to Australia, which is unbelievable. Thanks Australia! My show there sold out and I’m hoping this leads to another bigger show and an eventual journey to Oz.

What a truly insane year for you, so how is 2017 shaping up? I know you mentioned you have a new show at Thinkspace coming up. What can you tell us about it?

I started 2017 by taking time, collecting my tattered wits, and beginning the process of catching up on every other aspect of my life that I had neglected during the art making fury of 2016. It’s crazy how much of your life will fall behind when you’re deep into the final stages of a show.

Now I’m working out some of my initial concepts and prepping a bunch of panels for the Thinkspace show in September 2017. My last show with Thinkspace was in Miami for the Art Basel fair madness, so this will be my first show at the actual gallery in five years. I’m excited to come visit the LA area again. The show opens on September 30th, so if you’re in the area, stop by! (We will!)

What’s your process like for creating concepts for your shows?

The beginning of a show is all about trying to wrangle some strange, loose ideas out of the ether and wrestle them into some form of practicality. I spend most of this time with headphones on, staring at a blank, freshly gessoed panel while mulling over those concepts until something starts to form. Seeing the blank space where the painting will be helps me visualize the idea. It’s pretty amazing how deep and detailed your mind can get when you focus and concentrate hard enough. Maybe this could be considered some weird form of meditation. There was a time where I felt pretty guilty about spending a whole day just staring and thinking and jotting down random ideas. Now I know this is a step in the weird process I have for making my work.

Once the paintings start to take shape, I’ll finally reach a point where I can dedicate hours to straight painting. Then it’s on to listening to a whole lot of audio books and podcasts.

How many audio books / podcasts did you burn through for your last show?

For my last show at Jonathan LeVine, I listened to upwards of 20 books in six months. I listen to a smattering of contemporary fiction and nonfiction, but the largest portion of my reading/listening belongs to the Fantasy & Sci-Fi genre. These stories are world building in written form and listening to them never ceases to stoke and inspire my own imagination.

When you are working on your various pieces - do you work on them start to finish or several paintings at a time? How do you manage it all?

As for my process, I always work on several pieces at once so there is no down time while pieces are drying. The beginning of a show is the toughest part for me. Trying to flesh out a dozen ideas and then plan out the different layers for each individual painting can be overwhelming.

I have a big dry erase board that looks like something your conspiracy theorist uncle would have hidden away in his tool shed in the woods. I use it to keep track of what layer I am working on with each piece, and for little notes about possible techniques and concepts that can be utilized. I also have a sketch book that has my initial concept sketches along with lot of notes. One thing I know about myself is I need to sketch and write ideas down or it’ll likely be lost in the void for all time. When you make a living off of your ideas, it’s of paramount importance to record them when they come. Inspiration can hit at the strangest times.

Knowing the first layer will be coated in resin and set for all eternity can make me a bit hesitant to jump right into a piece. Painting the first stroke is always the hardest thing for me. I’m not sure why there is no much trepidation on my part, but I need enough of a resolved concept before I can jump in. To keep my sanity during the first stages, I’ve learned to keep it kind of loose conceptually and to let the painting form in a more organic way. Many times I paint the background and decide to change the placement or scale of a character, or to alter the original composition completely. Sometimes, when the world starts to build up and materialize, I’ll see something else inhabiting that landscape so I’ll readjust and change the piece accordingly. Some of my favorite paintings come from lending fresh eyes to an incomplete piece and being willing to go a different direction with it. Working with the resin kind of lends itself to that way of thinking, since you have so much time in between each layer. But at the same time you have to make a final decision because, once the resin is poured, there is no going back. That finality can be really daunting, but being forced to make a decision and move on is very helpful for me.

Has your technique with working with resin changed or evolved?

I am continuously experimenting and evolving that technique. For my most recent work, I started working with less layers and moving toward making my resin pieces less deep. The resin itself has become more of a painting tool for me. The paint effects and textures that I can achieve with the epoxy resin are why I love working with it, more so than the depth effect that initially drew me to it. There is certainly still a great deal of depth in the final product, but I don’t want that to be the primary focus of the work. I’ll still be doing some deep pieces to incorporate sculptural elements but, for the most part, I’ll be treating them more like traditional paintings.

How about traditional painting? Do you still find yourself working w/ oil and acrylic?

Speaking of traditional paintings, I’ve also been getting back into straight oil and acrylic paintings which has been very gratifying. I forgot how much I missed the opportunity to go back and work on the background. It’s been interesting to take all the lessons I’ve learned from working in layers of resin and applying them to a more traditional medium.

In your works, your dreamy and magical environments are very much characters themselves. What aspect do the landscapes / dreamy realms play in your paintings and/or in your imaginary worlds?

The world itself is, in many ways, the most important aspect of my work and what I think about the most on a day to day basis. The awe and grandeur of nature is a prevalent theme for me and one of my greatest inspirations. Because I work in resin layers and work back to front, the vast majority of my pieces naturally start with the background. These nascent steps into the environment are the first thing I have to plan out and are the first elements of the piece to get fleshed out. The development of the initial background layer effects the direction of the entire piece.

There is a symbiotic relationship between the characters and the environment. The characters tend to be products of their environment and many times the environment is physically part of the character. This is sometimes apparent in the patterns of the clothes they are wear or maybe by the surrounding fauna actually growing on them. This harmony is an overarching theme for me, but a lot of that also has to do with the technical process of making the piece. As the world builds, the characters enter and evolve with the painting and the world gets more and more defined.

What’s something you think people might not know about an artist or mostly about what you do as an artist?

Being an artist and working for yourself is, of course, very gratifying. But, it also has much of the mundanity of running a small business. There is rarely a day when I get to wake up and just be creative and paint all day. I feel like there is a romanticized notion of an artist rolling out of bed, smoking a joint in his/her paint-spattered bathrobe, and being manically creative in the studio all day. While that’s true some days, most of my days are filled with emails (which I was bad about and now I’m getting worse), print shop issues, inventory, book keeping, and general life duties. These are truly mundane tasks, but you need to utilize every tool you can to sustain yourself in this crazy line of work.

What would you say to folks who want to walk down the art path? 'Abandon hope all ye who enter?’ or ‘Jump into the Fire’ ?

Be patient and create as much as you can. It takes a lot of time and a lot creating to come into your own in terms of technique and overall artistic purpose. Seriously, just make work. A lot of work. Making piece after piece is the only true way to refine your vision and help you determine what and why you want to create. Never stop challenging yourself, learn from each piece, and try to carry those lessons forward.

Share your work as much as you can. The internet is a powerful tool and your work can reach parts of the world you would never imagine. My following in Australia didn’t come from a huge exhibition or an article in a major arts publication. It came people seeing and sharing my work on the internet.

Getting the opportunity to showcase your work is usually the hardest and most frustrating part for aspiring artists. There is no set way to do it. So if and when you get that opportunity, make it count and take full advantage.

Also, don’t let “making it in the art world” be your top motivation for creating.

In terms of art, what are things you admire or appreciate when you go to someone else’s show or view another fellow artists’ pieces?

I’m always drawn to work that is imaginative and genuine. I appreciate attention to detail and an overall care for the work. You can tell when someone really cares for their work and wants it to be the best representation of their particular artistic vision.

Technical prowess and craft is something I admire immensely, and something I strive for myself, but it has to be a whole package of vision and mood. I love work with a sense of mystery that can evoke a feeling of wonder and awe. I want to be able to stare at a piece and get lost in it for a time.

How do you stay balanced with art and non-art activities?

All of my current non-art activities are intertwined and share a mutual need: A need for actual human interaction. (Besides finally getting to indulge in some long desired interests.)

It’s easy to get wrapped up in adult shit. Work shit, wife’s school shit, house-work shit, all sorts of errands and shit. Lots of shit nonstop all of the time. When you work in a home studio, your personal life and your work life coexist in the same place. Unsurprisingly, it can all start to melt together and become your whole world. When you go to a day-to-day job, even if you despise some of your coworkers, at least you get to see other people in a different space out there in the real world. My coworkers are a dog and 3 cats. Though they do get up to some crazy things and the studio is full of tantalizing gossip, there is a definite void of human contact. It is always crazy to essentially work alone for months and then get thrown into the chaos of an art opening. Suddenly, I am surrounded by an overwhelming amount of people wanting to ask me about my work. Basically, something needed to change before I became an unsociable recluse.

Definitely can see that, so how do you un-wind after a full studio day?

After working all day, I typically hang out with friends virtually via video games, but I really needed something tangible. So I started a board game day and got a group of friends to join me at my house and it was marvelous and fun. I love board games. My favorites are Betrayal at House on the Hill, Lords of Waterdeep, and most recently, Scythe.

Then I decided to take it up a notch and start a D&D campaign with those friends. I’ve always wanted to get back into D&D and I figured the best way to do it was to learn the new 5e version, become a DM, and start the whole damn thing myself. One thing about me is when I decide to get into something, I get pretty obsessive and go all in. I spent every second of free time researching it and learning all the rules. I learned to make charts and tables in MS Word and Excel so I could produce a whole laminated quick reference guide binder for all my players. Having a large format printer also came in pretty handy as I was able to make huge maps for the all the places I would be taking them. It turns out having a strange imagination and a deep love of trolling your friends is a good recipe for being a successful DM. Making stories is a lot fun for me and having those stories played out by your creative and somewhat twisted friends is super rewarding… and super hilarious. The tales I could tell of these adventurers and their deeds would make an bugbear blush. I still think of them every once in a while and chuckle to myself.

Dude I love it, you went deep into gaming. Last time we emailed, you mentioned you were competing in Magic the Gathering. How did that all come about?

Having friends over for those activities was fine and awesome, but I still wasn’t leaving the comfort of my familiar confines. So, a little over a year ago, I started playing Magic the Gathering and I’ve become a bit obsessed. It’s something I’ve always wanted to explore. I love card games and love the art attached to the game. The gameplay itself involves a lot of strategy and improvisation which I find mentally rewarding. I love that there’s so much personalization when it comes to crafting a deck and people can play it so many different ways.

And, very importantly, it gets me out of the studio and I get to meet new people and have some real human contact outside of my familiar studio/cat world. The Magic community has been very gracious and inviting to am aspiring player such as myself, and I really appreciate that.

Any other non-art activities you’re looking forward too?

I hope to start traveling a bit more in the coming years. My wife Ash has been in school for the last 4 years getting her Doctorate and she graduates this year! Hurray! She will be a nurse practitioner with a much better schedule. She’s had to continue working as a critical care nurse while also completing a massive workload for school, so besides being a total badass, her schedule has been far from flexible. We definitely love to travel and I look forward to our many future adventures together.

What’s the best art related advice you’ve ever gotten? What wisdom can you share with folks?

The best advice I ever got in regards to work was from my Illustration Concepts teacher at Parsons, Jordin Isip. Well, he gave me a lot of good advice over those 2 years, but the one that especially resonated was his advice on building a visual language.

In the Illustration department, every one of us was pretty obsessed with what our unique “style” was, and what would set our work apart from all the other illustrators out there. This is obviously a ubiquitous issue with Illustration students, so Jordin addressed this concern right away.

Right, aspiring artists are still concerned with finding their own style. What did he say?

Essentially, he told us to not concern ourselves so much with where we’d end up in terms of our style, but to take a little bit from each piece we make and start to build a unique visual language. You start small with letters and words and build up to sentences and paragraphs. Eventually you’ll be speaking your own visual language fluidly with more and more elegance. I think that’s a great way to look at it, and it really worked for me. I still continue to follow that lesson to this day since it’s something that will always continue to evolve and grow.

How about the worse given?

I’ve been wracking my brain over some horrible advice I’ve gotten over the years, and I honestly can’t think of any that really stick out. Even if it’s bad advice, it’s usually well intentioned and not something to take personally.

Okay, completely switching subjects, what are your FAVORITE Vans?

I love the classic look for the laced and slip ons. Plain with no stripe.

Finally, any last words, shout outs, and/or random words of wisdom?

I just want to thank you guys for reaching out and giving me the chance to spew my nonsense!

Website | Instagram | Facebook | Shop

#vans #vans art #andy kehoe #q&a #painters #visual #resin #studio

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fallout4reacts · 7 years

Note

After a snowball fight, how do the companions and a romanced Sole "warm up" ;)

And here come in the Winter / Christmas Asks!! I may be slow bu they’re on their way!!

Thank you somuch for the Ask!! I had actually completed this and had to rewrite it allafter it disappeared so I apologize if they’re a little weird since I waspretty salty of having to do it all over…

As usual, only Canon romancable companions (DLC included!) are included unlessotherwise requested, feel free to request me to add others! (ie; Nick, deacon,Maxson etc)

Click “Keep Reading” to see the answers! Or; If you’re on mobile Android and the “Keep Reading” link doesn’t appear;check out the answers here

Cait: When snow started to fall Cait could hardlybelieve it, saying things like ‘This shithole of a world is too goddamned hotfor this, what the hell?” but she quickly warmed up to the idea when Soleintroduced her to the art of a good snowball fight. Sole and Cat ended uphaving a few drinks and laughing as they’d toss snowballs and some of the lesspatient companions, including Danse, Nick and Preston and then proceeding tolaugh their asses off about it, even if it took them five or six tries to evenhit them. Eventually Danse, Ada and some of the other robots had to drag theminside since they were bothering everyone so much. And at this point, both ofthem were adequately drunk and once inside the warm house, both smirked at eachother like they shared a mind, and immediately started to remove their wetclothes, causing Danse to flush and ROCKET out of there as fast as possible,forcing another laughing fit from Sole and Cait. And well, they were alreadyundressing right? May as well keep going…

Curie: Curie was in awe as snow started to fall fromthe sky in Sanctuary, she could hardly believe it was still possible after allthe radiation had heated up the planet so much, but the way her eyes reflectedthe snow and she snow in wonder as her synth fingers melted the flakes thatwould have just slide off her old metal body was too precious. Sole made sureto bundle her up in a jacket and took her in the backyard of the house to tellher some fun stories and traditions about snow ball fights and snow men. Ofcourse Curie was ecstatic to try all the things Sole explained while by theirside, they two built a small snowman in the backyard, and then Soledemonstrated how to throw snowballs, hitting one of the houses. When it wasCuries turn, she tossed the ball of snow she had carefully crafted and ended uphitting Codsworth!“Oh dear Codsworth please excuse me! That was my first time throwing such a snowball! I apologize if I’ve startled you!” She had to furiously apologize everytime she hit anyone. Be it human, robot or animal. Eventually they came backinside and Curie was so amazed she talked forever about how much fun she hadand all the physics and chemistry behind snow balls and their composition andeven made sure to bundle Sole and herself up in a big blanket describing thefundamentals of hyperthermia that she never thought she’d even get close toexperiencing. Sole was just entranced by Curies wonder, they just held hertight and listened to her talk, sneaking in kisses when she’d least expect it.

Danse: Sole and Danse were on the Prydwen when thesnow started to fall. Sole quickly bounded inside to tell him the good news,and explain all the things they could do in the snow if it kept up. Danse,while surprised was not all too impressed initially, and the two had tocomplete their duties before they left. But the second Sole was done, “Last one in the snow is a glowing radroach!!” and jumped off the side of thePrydwen in their power armour, forcing Danse to quickly pop down in a vertibirdto make sure they were okay. Upon landing, Danse was already starting to givethem an earful about “safety” and “what would he do without them” but Sole hadalready excited their power armour and chucked a snowball at him from their hidingspot. Danse, while initially upset calmed down quickly looking at their smile,and they tossed a few back and forth at each other until Danse called it a day,his stomach hurt from laughing too much. They decide to warm up in a littlecabin they found close by rather than returning to the Prydwen, enjoying each other’scompany and the privacy that came with it.

Gage: It was snowing at Nuka World!! No one couldbelieve it, a whole arena was set up on the semi frozen pond in front ofFizztop Grill as each raider group sent out their best fighters to engage inthe new “snow gauntlet” they had set up. Winner of the winter match would get afree pardon from any misdemeanour in the future and everyone wanted in. Gageand Sole ended up just viewing the match from their abode high above, laughingas raider after raider either slipping on the ice, fell in or was just wastedby an onslaught of snowballs. Sole had even snuck over to the edge of the openbuilding gather a chunk of snow and tossed it at the unsuspected gage getting adrink at the torn apart bar.He quickly turned, around, snow melting on the back of his head, “Overboss, I’mnot sure you’d wanna be doing that, I ain’t no brainless raider like the lot of‘em down there.” A small smile on his face as he approached sole by the window.“Now I got that crap running down my back, freezing me, how’s to say we skipthe show and head on back to warm up huh? You ought to fix what you started,stunner.”

Hancock: Hancock was dragged out of bed, fighting of hischem hangover as Sole wrapped him up in various layers of fabric, explain thatit was snowing or something, he wasn’t sure he was just saying “Uhuh, yeah.”Until that is he was pushed out the front door, stilling holding soles hand andhit right in the face with a cold wind and snowflakes. That’s when he woke up.“Holy hell, no fucking way? It’s snowing?” He could hardly believe his tiredeyes but there it was! And when he looked to sole, to see them smirking at him…“What’s the grin f-“ only to be met in the face with a snowball. “Oh I’m feralnow!” He quickly retorted, jumping them and tackling them into the snow. Thetwo tossed snow at each other for a good while until Hancock could hardly moveanymore, his limbs started to freeze up on him. Sole quickly brought himinside, suddenly worried having forgotten how sensitive ghouls are too the coldand buddle him and themselves up in a mass of blankets.“Hey, don’t worry so much, I’ll be fine in no time.” Hancock grinned, pullingsole closer to him under the covers. Then Sole started to undress, earning acurious expression from the ghoul.“Body heat will warm you up faster.” Sole answered“Well, I ain’t complaining!” He smiled wrapping his arms around them tightlyand then whispering, “But it ain’t my fault if my cold hands wander.”

MacCready: MacCready and Sole had ended up bolting itoutside first thing in the morning when they had realized it had snowed, and inenough quality for snowball fights. They spent the morning chucking them ateach other and whomever happened to walk by. The two of them ended up gettingin trouble by Preston for throwing them at some of the settlers just trying todo their jobs, and Sole ended up having to quit to do some of their GeneralDuties, but Mac kept on swinging for the fences, hiding behind places andthrowing longshots at the other companions and then killing himself laughingwhen they would turn around and see no one standing there. MacCready ended upstaying outside so long it was nearly dark when Sole came to gather him and When Sole and Mac had returned home for the night, it was obvious MacCready hadgotten a cold from spending all day outside in the wet snow. Sole ended uphaving to take care of him, helped him change out of his wet clothes, and laidhim down for the night as the fever that had kicked in started to make him sayfunny things.“Y’know boss, you’re like. SOO hot like, dang, feel my face! You’re likeradiating onto me! I’m with a radioactive woman/man!! Wow, that’s crazy.” … Heyhey! Leave my nose alone! He wants to drip, he’s drooling for you! C’mere ,C’mere!! You’re not allowed to get that close to me and just leave! Kiss mekiss me!!

Piper: Sole and Piper were restocking in Diamond Citywhen it had started to snow, and in enough quantity to be of use for mischief.After they had gotten all their supplies ready for their trip back out into thecommonwealth, the decided to wreak havoc on the city before they left. The twowould dash behind building, hide in alley ways and toss snowballs at unsuspectingDiamond City Police. And it was so worth it to see them look around at theculprit while they hid. Occasionally their laughing would get them caught butthey ran out of there quick enough to get away with it. The best was when theythrew a snowball at Nick and they thought he had short circuited, both theirscared faces and his annoyed one when he turned around was worth it. Eventuallyafter spending a good few hours outside, they had ended up soggy from the snowand fingers red from the cold. The two decided to stay in town and warm up forthe night before heading out, and that’s just what they two of them did. Whatstarted off as heated laughter warming their bellies soon turned into silentfriction between bodies that would keep them warm on that winter night.

Preston: After all his years in the commonwealth,Preston had only seen it snow maybe two or three times, and never enough toactually do anything with. But when it had started to snow in Sanctuary and itdidn’t let up he got pretty excited. He had heard the stories from Sole of snowtraditions before the war and really wanted to partake in them with Sole.Eventually the two gave in, ran outside and started to chuck snow at eachother, of course all in fun. Preston had even decided to chuck one at Sturgeswho was walking by and the two guys had a good laugh. After a few hours in thesnow, Sole and Preston walked back hand in hand to their place in sanctuary,drenched from the wet snow. The two endearingly, yet slowly undressed eachother and put fresh warm clothes on, retiring to the living room. Drinking hottea while listening to the radio under a blanket, chatting and laughing quietlyas the snow continued to fall outside, hands occasionally wandered and lipsoften came together.

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burndownthehousetonight · 7 years

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((One more RP I did recently with @oxidethehedgehog. I have to admit, I knew nothing about the 70s british punk scene, so this is the first time I’ve done extensive research for the sake of one of these RPs. It was actually a really interesting RP to work on! Hope y’all enjoy!))

It was 1976. Mobius was going through a phase where all the colors were grey, brown, orange and mustard, everyone listened to the same shit, everyone either worked a dead end job or was on strike. And all the kids would go to school to do the exact same thing that their parents are doing.

In one school, there was an orange hedgehog with blonde hair. He was waiting for the teacher to arrive. And waiting. It wasn't a rich area, and the schools tended to suffer. Some teachers couldn't be bothered to show up, and many students didn't either. So one Collins, sometimes going by his surname 'Collins', waited in vain as they sat around, waiting for her to arrive. "They still on strike?" Some girl in the back row asked one of her friends. Even for the poor schools, this one had particularly non-caring staff. Some teachers would leave on strike daily, some would just go whenever they felt, and most carried on like nothing had changed. And judging by how Collins's neon green friend actually brought blank sheet music to class, he was trying to find some way to keep himself occupied. "Oh hey Manic, whats with the sheet music mate?" He asked, looking at the blank paper that was covered in lines in an orderly fashion. The bars were occasionally covered in a few normal seeming notes, but for the most part, it looked like the triangles and xs of percussion notation. "Hey, you remember how I said I had some real good idea for drum parts yesterday?" Manic said, poking the paper impatiently. "Guess who forgot it by the time I got home? Can't remember this crap to save my life." "Haha, hey, you wanna split? Fuckin' wanker of a teacher ain't comin' bye, probably protestin' about how shitty it is to deal with kids like us." Collins laughed again, getting up from his seat. "What, would YOU wanna deal with me, either?" He teased, standing up. She never showed up for their last period, anyways. "Besides, I'm not getting any good ideas." He hastily grabbed his paper and pencil, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. There were only three or four other kids they ran into in the halls, but it was clear that the idea to skip an empty class wasn't unique. "Man, you think they're even gonna have enough teachers to keep this dump running until break? Even this crappy shirt isn't half as beat up as this place." All of Manic's clothes were crappy, but even he couldn't ignore the large hole in his sleeve. Not that he hadn't tried. Collins had safety pins that were holding the left sleeve of his striped long sleeve shirt together, with a giant hole in the left pant leg of his blue denims. He already looked like a punk, but he barely knew what that was. "Oh yah, and dude, there's this band playing that one of my friends told me was gonna be awesome and that we should check it out. It's 2 pounds to get in, you wanna come?" he asked, walking out of the building. "Two pounds? Uh... Yeah, I can probably get that much, sure." Manic searched his pockets to try and see if he had enough on hand. He stopped to look up at Collins and grimace. "This ain't the same friend that told you that country doo-wop-y band was gonna be good, was it?" He shuddered at the memories. The ten minutes they bothered to stay for were agony. "Nah man, I fuckin' got rid of that asshole long ago. Its another band called the Sex pistols, along with the Damned and The Clash." Collins smirked, they sounded really atrocious for the time, very vulgar. Manic seemed surprised. "I mean- Alright." He seemed to be in disbelief. "That's not what I expected to hear, but I guess I'm down. You got any idea what kind of-" Manic stopped himself from finishing his sentence. "Nah, don't tell me, I want to be surprised. So what, that usual bar we go to? Nine o'clock, usual time?" "Nah, its at 6PM, and it's at a place called the 100 club." Collins and Manic walked to Collins's house where he dropped his stuff off and told his mom that he was gonna go to a concert. She seemed ok with it, and Collins and Manic were off again. And that's just how most of their afternoons started. It was always the two of them walking together, always to Collins's house, and usually after skipping out of study hall early. It was strangely normal, but hell, it worked for them. Even if they loved going on stupid adventures through the city, they didn't mind the regularity. Of course, their evening was going to be nothing but regular. They would realize this as they started to reach the club they were going to. This was not usual. They places near Collins's house were usually cleaned up, but this felt weirdly dirty. The people walking around seemed slightly on edge, slightly off. It didn't feel like this place was right, somehow. "You sure this is the place?" "Yah, cause there's Logan right there." Collins pointed to the short 13 year old cyan blue hedgehog who was waiting outside of the club. Inside, they could hear a band doing soundcheck. It was out of tune, out of key, loud fast and raw. "Holy shit, they sound like Iggy and the stooges on PCP." Collins said amazed, it sounded amazing in there, so Collins, Logan and Manic went in and paid their way in. This was clearly a place children shouldn't have been allowed in. It was a good thing they were teenagers, and therefore much more responsible. It was just like a lot of the show venues they ended up at, although with the same vague filthiness that the streets outside shared. Collins certainly seemed into it, and that blue friend of his wasn't complaining. Manic wasn't too sure yet. It was definitely powerful, and it was definitely new to him. But would they back up power with good composition, or would it be power without substance? He shook off his doubts. He was never this nevative about bands. "That's like... Well, it's definitely new." Manic laughed. "So what are you thinking? They gonna be your new favorite band of the week?" "Haha very funny...." Collins rolled his eyes. Soon, the real deal. The first band was The damned, and they were amazing. People were jumping up and down, shaking the heads about as they spat at the people on stage. Manic wasn't expecting the way they played. This was definitely rock, but not any kind of rock he was used to. These lyrics were strangely blunt, vulgar, the kind of thing he would have never expected to hear on any kind of radio station. And he had no idea if he was liking it. It was intense, and it was very new to him, but that was also the problem. Was the novelty all he enjoyed? The style was new, and he hadn't heard enough to get a gauge of what 'good' meant for this genre. Was it just a subset of rock he would enjoy, or just a gimmick? Manic felt like he had to take all kinds of new music seriously. Collins clearly wasn't thinking about this kind of thing even a little. Collins was at the front of the stage, gobbing at the band as well as he pogoed to the music. "I got a new rose I got it good Yes I knew that always would I can't stop to mess around I got a brand new rose in town!" The singer was dressed in very goth like attire, with his face very pale and black eye liner applied too. Gimmick. That's all Manic could think about this genre once he started to pay attention to the musicians. Hell, to the crowds, too. This must have been one of those subcultures that was fully developed and yet never extended beyond the tiny reach it had. And yet, it was a gimmick Manic was liking. Yes, he wanted to pretend like he wasn't going to fall for a trend, but he definitely liked the general sound. Even if he didn't understand the spitting or all the dark colors, he was liking it. He slowly gave way to the beat, dancing along and letting loose to the melodies. Even so, he still was nowhere near as immediately invested as Collins seemed to be, but he wasn't going to mock him. The next band came on; The clash, who were much more politically aware. The audience kept gobbing as they pogoed and the band kept playing. The night felt rapid fire. Song after song, note after note. Somehow, every note drew attention to itself, but the songs still felt like they were speeding by. Sure, most shows they went to sped by, but this night felt different. Manic was excited and energized, yet completely confused by how he was feeling. He definitely wasn't complaining, though. Hell, he was loving the show. He didn't want to stop dancing, even as songs drew to a close, and even as yet another band came on stage in more explicitly gimmicky clothing. Manic didn't want to admit he was a sucker for a good gimmick, but he was. And he never wanted the show to end, but it had to eventually. The final band, the sex pistols, were the best of them all. They blazed through a half hour of pure energy and speed, the lead singer looked like he was on acid at the moment. And Manic loved every second. He gave in to the weird uniqueness of the music, the straightforward fury of eveyr syllable. It was entrancing. And when the final notes played, Manic didn't want it to end. It felt like the aftermath of some disaster. He was confused about what he was supposed to do next. When he finally found his way to Collins, he was still visibly shocked. "Dude, that was... Wow. What WAS that?!" He was grinning through his dazed excitement. "I know, that was fucking amazing!" Collin said excitedly. "Hey, more punk bands play here every week, so don't blow your load just yet, guys." One punker said from behind them. Collin and Logan laughed. "We'll be here!" Manic said, before turning towards Collins and Collins's friend. "I'm still not over that whole- Wow." It was all he could say. Although the work punk wasn't new to him, he'd never really learned what it meant. He'd heard that it was awful, or mindless, or any negative adjective people could seem to think to throw at it. Even Sonic, when they even spoke, didn't seem to like it. If he'd known it was supposed to be a punk band, he wouldn't have agreed to come along. He also would have noticed the slightly naff dress. It wasn't beige or earthy tones, but rich, dark shades of black. It was a kind of bold Manic was enjoying, especially against the kinds of stuff he normally saw people wearing. "God, my ears are still ringing! How'd you here about this place, uh..." He motioned towards Collin's cyan friend. "Logan, right?" "I was just walking about and found it out, bands called Chelsea and The Stranglers were playing." He shrugged. "Pretty alright." He smirked. "......You guys wanna form a band?" Collins asked, looking at Manic then Logan. Manic was caught off-guard for a variety of reasons. "Hey, I mean... I mean, I'd love to, but I ain't exactly perfect on drums, dude." He could see that Collins wasn't deterred. "Hey, you ever wanna jam with me, uh... I mean, I could try and lead in some electricity?" He scratched the back of his head. "I have this practice space, but it doesn't have electricity." He grinned, not too certain but still amused by the idea. "I know a place where we can nab a mini generator and some amps." Logan pitched in. "I got a bass guitar, and I know Collin's parents have an old electric guitar. But we need amps..." "I thought you said we could nab some wherever you could get the generator? No, wait, you meant more, right?" Manic thought for a moment. "Maybe we could life one from- Nah, the school's pretty much bankrupt already. I think I could nab one from-" He didn't want to tell them that he was an amateur thief, so he stopped himself from telling the truth about that hippie guy four doors down from his place. "I think this guy near my place is trying to get rid of one, I could get it from him. If you get those other ones, you think that'll be enough?" "Yah sure, and I bet the school's ought to have somethin' mate. Me and Logan will go check." Collins said. "Yah man, theres a nice lookin' generator in the storage room, don't ask me what I was doin' in there...." Logan quickly said. "So what do you guys wanna do now?" Collins asked "You know I never do anything," Manic joked. "I was just gonna go to my place and see if I could grab that amp. I mean..." The sky was already dark. How long had the show been? "I guess we've still got school tomorrow. We could try messing around with writing music, if you want. Just crash at your place?" He had a tenancy to hang out at Collins's house and end up falling asleep. "Yah sure, hey Logan, you coming?" he asked him. "Nah, sorry mate, gotta go back to me mums or else she'll flip her fuckin' lid." He laughed, knowing his mom hated how he's always out late at night It was a longer walk to Collins's house than usual - most of the clubs they would visit were much closer. They waved off Logan midway through the walk, eventually coming up on Collins's house. It was definitely a poor neighborhood, but Collins's part of town was a bit wealthier than most. They threw the door open, ending up in Collins's room, and Manic opened his backpack. He pulled out the sheets of staff paper, Collins went to get the old electric guitar, and the two played out melodies on acoustic and wrote down anything that sounded good. Anything that sounded loud, absolutely anything they liked whatsoever. Maybe it did start as some offhanded project he wasn't too keen on, but Manic was slowly getting into it. Way further into it than he expected he would. They laid down scribbling ideas for lyrics, band names, anything they could think of for hours on end. "Hold on, how are these for lyrics? Ahem.... You find it hard to move as the poison seeps in You find it hard to breathe as you begin to give in You stare at the door, your only way to escape You pound on the door, the locks, they don't break You find yourself gagging, take in your last breaths Your body crumbles, you feel yourself enclosed by death Your life flashes before your own eyes! You see all the happy memories before you die The soldiers come in, clear the bodies out The bodies litter the floor, more than they can count The drag them into the pit, poured with gasoline! They watch the bodies burn, with a heavy black smoke screen" Collins played the same 3 chords over and over for the versus, but for the chorus, he played the same 2 chords over and over Manic's opinions on lyrics would change dramatically over the years, and in time, he would nitpick details here and there. But for something he was hearing for the first time, it was impressive, especially given that Collins seemed to be making it up as he went. Manic scribbled down the lyrics as fast as he could, hastily leaving the lyrics vaguely legibly in the margins. He couldn't write guitar chords, though, but Collins didn't seem to care. "Dude, you sure you haven't written music before?" Manic said, thrilled with their sudden lyrics. "Yeah, dude, that's awesome! I thought we'd mostly be doing covers, or something, but- Awesome!" They had vague ideas for backing and absolutely nothing else for this song, and they didn't care one bit. They were actually writing a song. They weren't just talking about it, it was actually happening. Song after song, lyric after lyric, they kept composing and composing, until their bodies were too tired and they fell asleep on the floor. By the time they woke up, they realized just how many sheets of paper they'd thrown around in their attempts to compose... and had maybe three sets of lyrics finished out of all their work, tops. "Man, so like, are we actually doing this?" He said, collecting the papers as they slipped into conciousness and read over what they'd come up with the previous night. "I guess so." Collins shrugged. "Hey, wanna skip out on school and get some amps? Logan can get the generator." He smirked, really excited on doing this. "It ain't like anything's happening this week anyways." Manic added. "Uh- Actually, you mind if I get that hippy guy's amp myself? We could cover more ground." Rather, he still hadn't told Collins exactly how he planned to get his amp. "Meet you back here, like, an hour?" "Yah sure." Collins got up, grabbed his backpack and went down to the nearest guitar shop. He went in with a resume. He handed the guy the application and the guy went into the back of the room to get him a piece of paper to sign so he could work there. He went to an amplifier, took it, and grabbed a chord. He then walked out just like that. Manic, of course, didn't know that Collins was a thief. It was just coincidence that the two thieves in their class hung out. Manic's plan was simple. He just pulled a set of lockpicks out from their hiding place in his quills, and walked right in and out. This wasn't Manic's first time in this area. It was a beaten-up old thing, but he was careful to make sure he didn't go down any streets where he was liable to get mugged. And in a half hours time, he ended up back at Collins's house. He waited out front... and waited. He kept reading over what they came up with, looking for any lyrics he would change, any notes that seemed off. That's what he'd say, anyways. He simply loved their amateur lyrics and melodies, and wanted to keep reading over their creations. Collins came by, with an amp and chord. "Do you have a drum kit?" Collins asked, looking at him Manic scoffed. "Dude, drumming is my LIFE. I've got a whole practice space and everything!" He looked a bit sheepishly to the side. "I mean, it's not that cool. It's just like, this tiny old building in a bad part of town no one cares about. But like, yeah, no one ever bothers me there. It's just a big, empty room with drums and nothing else. Wanna check it out?" "Hell yah, and after that, I'll go find Logan." He said, walking with Manic to his practice space. When they got there, it looked exactly like he described it as. Empty, besides the drum kit and kind of dull, but perfect. "Alright, just put it down over- Actually, that's perfect," Manic said, putting down the amp he was carrying near the back entrance. The front door was all nailed and screwed shut so no one could ever enter from the street. The only open door into this decayed space was a back door that was locked with a small padlock. Manic was the only one with the key, it seemed. The small space must have been a shop of some kind, but with all furniture and shelves removed, they could only guess. "Hey, Collins, don't tell anyone about this place, alright? Logan's fine, but make sure you don't say a word. I can't really get this think out of here." He patted one of the drums with his hand. "Alright, sure." He smiled, plugging his guitar into amp before running off to go find Logan. An hour later, he returned, along with the generator and Logan's bass. "Alright, lets fucking do this!" He yelled, jumping into the air. "Yeah!" Manic shouted, starting the generator and hooking it up to the guitar and bass. Manic rushed back to his drums- "Uh... where are we going to start from, anyways?" They had no idea, so they just started playing. The three desperately tried to find harmonies between whatever notes they'd end up making, looking for any patterns. They all but ignored what they wrote that previous night, instead improvising and hoping to come up with something. It was less than amateur, and if anyone had heard them play, it would have sounded terrible. But the three were in heaven, finding things to like about their performance. They knew they would probably hate everything they played at their first recital in a few months, but they didn't care. It was perfect to them, and that's all that mattered. "Alright hold on, lemme write on the tab for this." He said, grabbing a piece of paper and writing out the guitar and bass tab Manic opened his own bag, handing some blank sheet music and a pencil to Collins. His hand fidgeted impatiently, desperate to get back to drumming. "Man, I haven't jammed with someone else ever. This is awesome!" There was a rush of excitement in Manic's mind that was quickly taking over. Collins gave a copy to Logan and Manic. "Just make something up over this." He said towards Manic. "Oh and guys, call me Napalm from now on...." 'Napalm' said, who used to be Logan. "Heh, alright." Manic didn't see any reason to complain. He seemed to be much more immediately invested in this scene than Manic was. The two looked over the chords Collins scribbled out, listening carefully as Collins started playing. Napalm's playing joined in soon after, not a great harmony, but perfectly acceptable. Manic spun his drumsticks in his hand, and tried to come up with a pattern. Manic was a talented drummer, a passionate drummer. But he wasn't great at coming up with harmonies on the spot. They mostly repeated the same sounds together as Manic kept trying to come up with some kind of sound that seemed good to him, without being too generic. But with enough patience, he ended on a high-hat heavy pattern. Again, amateur, but still acceptable. Compared to what the three had already come up with? They thought it was perfect. They played for hours upon hours, until it was 8PM. They stopped and ended up having to go home, they had played these songs to the point of which they didn't need sheet music anymore and could play them decently well without it. "Hey, guys, thanks for hanging." Manic said as the three left their practice building. "I've got no idea what we're doing... I love it." Napalm and Manic split off onto their own walks home early on, leaving Collins to stroll home on his own. But then something fell out of his backpack - a piece of sheet music, written and drawn in Manic's handwriting. When did he even put it in there? At the top of the page was one short line; "You ever wanna hang out and jam or compose or whatever like last night, just let me know" He smirked, stuffed it into his back pack and went home. The next morning was a Saturday, so he got up and walked to the 100 club. He then looked around for the owner. He came out 30 minutes later and ran to Manic's house. He'd never actually been to Manic's house. But Manic did say it was down the street from some coffee shop. But the road from that coffee shop was very long, and branched through several neighborhoods. He also said it was on the same street as some old publishing house. Again, a long street, but this one didn't intersect with the other street. It seemed at least one of those statements was a lie. But there was one place he thought Manic might be, and sure enough, he could hear the faint sound of Manic pounding away at the drums as he approached their practice space. Collins burst through the door. "DUDE! I GOT US A GIG!" He screamed out at Manic who was on the drums. Logan happened to be there as well. "Wait what?!" Napalm asked. "Collins are you fucking nuts?" "Dude, wait, hold on!" Manic stood up, seemingly surprised. "I mean, I'd like to, but we don't have any songs! We don't have a band name, we don't have nothing!" He brushed back at his bizarre quill style. "Dude, it's way too soon to try and play a gig, we need to actually form our band first!" "What were we just doing yesterday then? We played like 7 different songs, and besides, we do have a name, well for now." He then laid down a poster that showed the bill. It read: The Clash The Vibrators 999 The Slits and The Amphetamines "We're called the Amphetamines." Manic pushed his hair back nervously. "Dude, like, we gotta make sure we're READY to play before we do a gig!" He suddenly realized what he said. "I'm not saying we're bad, I'm saying we've gotta make sure we're gonna be good on stage! Napalm, what're you thinking?" "When is it?" Napalm asked. "In 2 days." Collins said. ".....We got this...." Napalm said with a smirk as he plugged in his bass. "If we practice that is," he added. "This is a terrible idea." Manic smiled at his comment. "Let's do this." It didn't take long for Collins to grab his guitar and the three to start playing away. Even if they were having their fun, a band just barely coming together like this was always going to have its bumps. "Hey, like, you think we could all get a chance to sing?" Manic pointed his thumb at himself as they paused during some cover they were trying to work on. "You know I'm a good singer, too, and I dunno if Napalm's up for it or not, but like, you're already lead guitar. Just spread the attention, you know?" "Sure." Collins then turned to Napalm, who shook his head. "Alright, here." Collins handed him some lyrics for a song they were working on. "Oh, and call me Oxide from now on too" Collins said, who was now Oxide. "What, we all getting weird fake names now?" Manic joked at 'Oxide', not exactly complaining. "Let's get this mess going!" They dumped the cover they were practicing in favor of their original pieces. Napalm and Manic stared, eventually deciding to let Manic sing first. Didn't seem like letting a drummer do lead vocals was a good idea by any means, but he was going to try. "Go get our epitaths engraves And we'll destroy this brand new age Running water turned to gold Under butchered steel and atomic roads" Manic wasn't trained for punk rock specifically, but he clearly trained. A lot. His voice carried a great deal of power and emotion. For his age, it was an impressive set of pipes. Oxi played along, playing the same chord for the majority of the verse before playing different ones for the chorus. They seemed to be getting pretty tight with this as the day went on. And practice carried on. Manic took one or two songs, with Oxide and Napalm taking the brunt of the load. They didn't have too many songs yet, and they definitely weren't ready for any kind of a show. But they were still passionate about they were doing, and carried on as long as they could. "Hold on dude, I need to..." Manic stood up some time late in the afternoon, exhausted by their almost nonstop practice. "I need, like, ten drinks right now... God, how long have we been practicing, anyways?" "I don't know, long time I guess." Oxide shrugged, unplugging his guitar as he put it against his amp. "Wanna go home?" Oxi asked. Napalm nodded, putting away his bass guitar as he walked out. "I'm just gonna stay here," Manic said. "I'm just gonna try and get this drum pattern a bit more, I feel like I've gotta. Night, dudes." So Manic stayed in the building as Oxide and Napalm left in the late afternoon. But something was wrong. Oxide could hear Manic drumming earlier in the day, but nothing of the sort now. Even though he claimed to be staying behind to practice, he wasn't playing, and he wasn't leaving the building. Oxi notice this and stood there for a moment, wondering what Manic was doing in there. He stood there a little longer before peeking in, maybe he dropped his sticks and was trying to find them. But when he looked through the door, Manic was gone. The instruments and amps were all present and untouched, and the drum sticks were neatly left on top of the snare drum. He didn't see Manic leave through the back, and he couldn't have left through the front. It seemed like Manic had just disappeared. Well, not exactly. He normally ignored them, but there was a small set of stairs in the back room leading up to a second floor. And sure enough, he could hear Manic humming one of the tunes they performed from deeper in the building. Oxide began to explore deeper into the old, beaten up building, looking for Manic to see what he was doing. Wasn't his business but then again he didn't have anything else to do but go home. The stairs were cramped and short, but they lead upwards, into- "Collins!" The room itself was clearly once an office space, but was now just some decayed room. Manic shot up from where he was on the floor, surprised and angry. He stepped backwards quickly, no idea what he should have said.He didn't need to say anything, though. "Dude.......what is this place?" He asked, walking around the room, checking it out. "Do you........live here?" Oxide was shocked, looking at the worn out mattress, the pile of dirty clothes, and the very few possessions underneath a small light. Manic's mind didn't just search for the right thing to say, but the right thing to feel. Confused? Angry? Depressed, scared, what?! When he began to get close to his clothes, though, he suddenly ran up and stood in front to stop him from moving closer. "What the hell are you-?!" He stopped himself from yelling, and took a moment to calm down. "Why are you up here, anyways?" He snarled, trying to derail the question. "Cause I was was wonderin' if you were havin' a wank, you said you were gonna play drums, well these walls are paper thin cause I can hear you playing drums a block away and I didn't hear any drums......why are you homeless?" Oxide asked, kneeling in front of him. Manic looked away and huffed. He'd known Collins- No, he'd known OXIDE for he last three years, he could trust him. "I'm-" He began to sit down, moving to the side a bit so he was sitting on the pile of clothes. "You know how I said I was just, like, adopted by that Ferrel dude? You know, the street thief guy? Uh, he dealt in a lot of really illegal stuff, I guess, so-" He kept swallowing and inhaling to stay calm. "I'm pretty sure he got arrested, and I ended up here." He looked up at the skylight, the glass clouded from decades of use, but still letting light trickle through. It was clear a lot of thoughts were running through his head. Oxide didn't know what to say, he went through all of this. "Mate.....why didn't you tell me?" Oxide questioned, looking Manic dead in the eye. Manic smirked. "I can make enough money to like, get food and stuff. I don't need any help getting by, I've got everything I need." He curled his legs to his chest, and looked up. "And I don't know what kind of stuff Ferrell was in. I don't know if anyone'd be looking for me, or whatever." He sighed heavily. "I can still get by, dude. I ain't hungry or nothing." He looked back with a depressed glare. "I guess I'm happy here," he lied to himself. Oxi saw right through that last bullshit covered sentence Manic said. "I can see right through that. You're miserable here aren't you?" He asked him. Not moving his eyes away from his. "Dude, quit-! Don't stare, that's weird." Manic looked away, but they both knew that Oxide was correct. Well, not entirely correct, but not wrong, either. "I'm not miserable, it's just- it gets hard, you know? Laundry and food and all that crap, it ain't cheap. I mean..." He hugged his legs to his chest. "I mean, I've met a few other guys at my job that are pretty cool." I.E., he met them while pickpocketing. "There's this dude named Scourge who's helped me a bunch, and-" He smiled. "We got into a fight with this guy he hates, Sonic? He's actually pretty cool, too. So's his sister, and all his friends. Trust me, knowing 'em both ain't easy. They hate each other. Like, HATE." He laughed genuinely through his desperation. "I wouldn't know 'em if this didn't happen to me, so I guess it's kind of a good thing?" He kept trying to smile and lighten the mood, maybe make the news hit him easier. But it clearly wasn't helping.

"You're lucky, dude." Manic eventually said, dropping the act. "Not everyone gets to know who their birth parents are." Oxi sat there, listening to Manic. As he was doing so, he couldn't help but notice that Manic looked pretty cute, but he quickly got those thoughts out of his head, and continued to listen before Manic stopped talking. Oxide didn't know what to say, he really didn't. "You're good at listening, dude." It was a very out-of place thing to say, and didn't sound natural out of Manic. It might have helped a tiny bit, but it just replaced some of the angst with awkward discomfort. He didn't look up or smile, but his sentiments were there. "Thanks, Oxi." "Come on," He said, getting up from the pile of old clothes he was sitting on. "Let's get outta here. I don't wanna make you all depressed." Oxide smiled. "Its not your fault.... Come on, lets go to my house man....." He said, getting up and lending out his hand to help him up. The two stood to their feet. Manic bent over and picked up his backpack, still filled with pages of music notation and writing supplies. The walk back down the stairs was slightly awkward, the entire building having a slightly different vibe to it now. Before they walked away, Manic took the time to padlock the back entrance shut. "Hey, can you keep this quiet?" Manic spoke as they left the building. "Uh, not a lot of people know this about me, and I don't want any pity parties or anything." "Yah yah, I gotcha mate." He patted him on the back and they were off back to Oxide's house. Oxi plopped onto the bed and went to sleep almost right away. Manic just laid down on the ground near the bed, trying to stop thinking as he drifted off to sleep. He didn't want to think about this show right now. He didn't want to think about not having enough money to get food for the week. And he definitely didn't want to think about what Oxide suddenly knew. He just closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. But trying didn't go too well, and he figured if he couldn't stop it, he had to do something. The best he could worry about was food, and his solution wasn't pretty. Late in the night, he snuck through to the kitchen of the house. He didn't take anything large. A few cans of fruit, some old dinner rolls in the back of the bread box... and then put them back. No, he couldn't do this to Oxide. He could just steal from the grocery store if he needed. The more he thought it over, the worse he felt about his decision, and he went back into Oxide's room empty handed and desperately hoping he was still asleep. Oxide was, snoring very softly as he was sprawled out over the bed, wearing his normal clothes. Manic stared for a moment... and ignored whatever he was thinking. Nah, that's ridiculous, he's just a close friend. He laid back down on the blanket he left over the floor, and nervously went to sleep to push those silly thoughts away. He woke up sooner than he normally would. Oxide was still sleeping, so he pulled out some blank paper from his bag. As Oxide slept, he racked his mind for ideas for songs, anything. Just something to push his normal stressed thoughts out of his mind. He scribbled loose ideas for lyrics and melodies for a while, finding all the emotions he could and trying to milk some kind of substance out of it. Oxi got up and stretched, looking over at Manic who was fiddling about with lyrics and melodies. "Come on Manic....*Yawn* lets go and practice again....." He said, getting up, beginning to walk to the kitchen to make some toast before leaving, waiting for Manic. Manic followed him into the kitchen, and waited. No, he was a good thief, he'd covered his tracks. Oxide certainly didn't notice, anyways, he was fine. "Hey, you mind putting in a few slices for me, too?" Soon enough, the two were leaving the house, munching on their toast before starting the short walk back to Manic's home. "Hey, dude, I still need to get some food and stuff after practice. You wanna meet up and do something after? I dunno, just like hang out at some other club or something?" "Yah sure." Oxide shrugged, waiting for Manic to open the door. Napalm was waiting there as well, seemed like this was gonna be a pretty normal thing for them. Manic gave Napalm a quick salute and undid the lock. It didn't take long for the three to get back to their usual practice. Yes, they were ignoring writing new songs so they could try and perfect the ones they already had before their performance. Yes, they were playing the same patterns over and over again, time after time, in what could have been a monotonous cycle. But there was a thrill in just having a song like this that they weren't just writing, but perfecting and claiming as their own. There was an odd ownership to the songs that kept this all fresh. He couldn't help but drum even more passionately as they carried on. Maybe it would be another long day, and maybe they would only have the briefest pause to eat, but they were determined to get their songs right. They had about 10-11 songs down by the end of the day. Tomorrow was gig night. Once again, the three were worn out by the end of practice. They'd spent all weekend getting these songs and covers right, and they were as ready as they'd be for this performance. Manic sent off Napalm with a two finger salute. He expected Oxide to do the same... and then he remembered. "Oh, right!" Manic had completely forgotten about hanging out with Oxide. "Hey, uh, I'm still stopping to get some food and stuff, you mind if we do that before the stores close?" We. He didn't mean to say we, and he didn't want to have any accomplice if he was going to commit any thefts, but the word slipped out. Instead of asking to go it alone, he inadvertently invited Oxide along. "Yah sure, I was planning on nabbing some shit as well," he said, a wide smirk on his face as he began to walk with Manic to a corner store. Manic didn't quite pick up on the vernacular, so when he entered with Oxide, he tried to play it cool. He knew what kinds of foods would be cheap, he'd done this plenty of times before. He even knew which of the aisles the cashiers couldn't see down. So he waited, conveniently trying to hide a few things in his bag while no one was looking. Some canned goods and a few vegetables disappeared into his bag. But as his basket filled and his bag filled quicker, he started to get a bit greedy, and begun slipping a few comfort foods in, as well. He started getting a bit too confident, and payed less attention to what Oxide was seeing until it was too late. The store manager lunged at Manic, grabbing him by his arm. Enter Oxide, who drop kicked the guy in the face, knocking him into the aisle. Luckily this was before the time of cameras, so he also decided to nab some money from the cash register before booking it with Manic. They legged it down a dark alley, not stopping till they got to Manics place. They locked the door and hid in Manic's room. Manic's heart was still racing. He had so many questions as they darted, Manic still grasping at the basket the whole way. He didn't ever FIGHT anyone he robbed. Was Oxide just doing this to help him? He had no idea, all he knew was that they had to run. They slipped into the alley unseen, but Manic still pulled in the padlock as they reached the building and locked it from the inside. They quietly dashed up into his room, Manic dropping the stolen basket and his bag of stolen goods to the floor before flumping over onto the mattress. The action was over as quickly as it started. Manic breathed heavily from their short run. And then he laughed. It wasn't just a humored laugh, but a relieved, thankful laugh. It carried on for longer than he thought it would, before sitting back up and smiling widely. "I was so worried," he said happily between pants, "that you weren't gonna be cool with me being a thief, but-!" He couldn't help but chuckle a little more. "You seriously went for the register? How much'd you get?" He threw the money on the ground. 50 pounds. "We could maybe get a proper mic so I can hear myself sing," He laughed. "Come on, dude, a mic? You've got a loud voice, you'll be fine! You don't need more attention, it ain't like anyone can ignore that kinda fashion," Manic smarmed, egging him on a little. "But seriously, dude, thats..." He fell back first on the bed, fists held above his head. "Whooo!" He shot up again, this time opening his bag to see what he took. The usual lasting foods, but also a few comfort foods. Some candies, a few sodas, nothing too breathtaking. For Manic, this was like treasure. "So, was this like a one time thing, or are we both gutter thieves?" He joked, choosing a candy bar to gnaw on as celebration. "I guess, but I gotta go, see yah later Manic." He smirked, walking out, hands in his leather jacket as he walked out, but then realized Manic needed to unlock the door for him since it was guarded with a padlock. "Aw," Manic joked. He followed Oxide downstairs, opening the door for him and watching as he stepped out and walked down- "Hey." Manic stopping Oxide from walking further for a moment. "You've been a really cool guy, mate. I just-" He laughed again, and stood in the doorway. "Thanks, dude. It means a lot." Oxi patted him on the back. "It's alright mate, its alright...." He smilled as he then walked out after Manic unlocked the door for him. On the way home, he started having....thoughts...of Manic, them together, in a not so very friendship way, as it was. In a romantic way. He shook his head but this time he couldn't get it out of his head. The thoughts danced across Manic's mind occasionally, but he didn't want them to bug him too much. That was stupid, he wasn't even a girl. Guys were supposed to like girls. He must have been misinterpreting a normal friendship. Thankfully, he had a way to hook up water. True, he had to do some makeshift pipework with old tools that probably weren't completely secure, but the water pumped. He didn't know who was being billed, or who specifically was paying for his showers, but that's how it was. He spent a long time in the shower, just thinking about how on earth they were going to pull off this show, and hoping he could trust Oxide not to tell. Maybe Scourge and some of his friends could show up to the show, if they wanted? Once more, sleep didn't come easily, but his worries were different, and very heavily focused on Oxide...

The day came. First it was going to school, which for some reason, the teachers were there, all of them. Wellm all of them in Manics and Oxide's classes, they were not too sure about the rest of the school.

Before getting to class, Oxi sneaked into the Office to photocopy a piece of paper. Yah they had a photocopier, but no budget to spend on the teachers.

Oxide began plastering those posters all over the school, which read

"The 100 Club

The Clash The Vibrators

999

The slits

The Amphetamines

Come down at 5PM

2 pounds"

And yet, even after taking the time to put those up and getting to class late, Manic wasn't there. Was he alright?

Manic only deigned to appear by midway through second period. But this time, he was different. His hair was worn just a bit higher in a strange style, some of them jutting straight up. Normally, they just fell wildly. Manic walked in midway through he period, as though nothing was strange, and sat down in his normal seat. He tried to look casual, but the way he tapped his foot throughout the day gave away that Manic wasn't as calm as he acted.

This carried until fourth period. Their teacher was tired and didn't care about students talking. Even better, Manic and Oxide were right at the back of the class. "Hey, dude, I saw all those posters," he said. "You think we're ready for this?"

"Hell yah man." He then plastered another poster onto the chalkboard. The teacher just looked at him but then looked away, not really caring. Some people got up to check it out. A lot of murmuring was coming from them.

"Is this that 'punk' think?"

"Ew, what's with these gormless names?"

"I dunno, sounds cool."

It was mostly disapproval, with some loose interest from a few certain students. If it was any other teacher, they would have stopped the students. But their science teacher was so disillusioned with his job, he was willing to let most anything slide.

The day dragged on, passing through lunch and their last few periods. Manic occasionally tapped some of the drum patterns as some desperate means of practicing, until someone would tell him to stop. Finally, after an agonizing, anxiety inducing wait, the final bell rung. Manic started his normal walk out of the building with Oxide.

"Hey, you mind if you meet me at the place? I wanna talk to someone first."

"Yah sure, but we should make it quick, we got 2 hours to get to the club and we still gotta transport are gear to it, including the drum kit. Maybe I could get Napalm's parents to drive us there."

"I thought the club would- hm." Manic realized just how little he knew about these places. "Tell you what, I know a guy who can drive us there. You and Napalm go and get the kit disassembled, I'm gonna find a payphone. Just listen for a van." Without giving Oxide a chance to respond, he rushed away, rummaging through his bag for however much change he would need.

Oxide nodded, grabbing Napalm. "Wait, you need to unlock the place for us." Oxide said. He ran off to grab Napalm before bringing him back.

Manic stopped in place. "Right, uh... Right, here!" He found the key in his bag, tossing it towards the two. Napalm caught it, and once more, Manic rushed to the payphone outside of the school as Oxide and Napalm rushed towards the practice space.

As they disappeared down the street, Manic waited for his friend to pick up the phone. "Hey, Scourge? ...Yeah, you know that show? I need some help with something..."

Oxide burst into the room, bringing out all the amps near the door and dismantling the drum kit. They waited for the sound of a van.

It was a little longer than they expected, but with time, a van customized with some weird green striped design pulled up near the back alley entrance. The van screeched to a stop, and Manic hopped out of the passenger door, and from the other side, a green hedgehog in a leather jacket left the driver seat.

"This is that Scourge guy I mentioned," Manic said. Scourge greeted the two with a nod of his head.

"Your sure they're old enough to enter a club like that?" He joked.

"Hey!" Manic and Scourge snapped at one another, but every word they said was blatantly sarcastic and meant in good fun. He gave Oxide a brief look, but didn't seem to say anything to him. "Come on, let's get moving." Manic and Scourge started loading some of the drums into the van, whispering something to one another when the other two were out of earshot.

Oxi paid no attention to the whispering and just loaded up the gear. Soon it was loaded up and it was time to go to the show.

It was a fairly short drive, so Scourge took the chance to talk while he still had it. "So what, you guys are a punk band?" Scourge asked.

"Uuuuh, I'm pretty sure," Manic said, not entirely sure himself. "I mean, we're trying to be really blunt and loud, so-"

"So a punk band." Scourge said with a grin, clearly amused with himself. "I called up some of my friends to check it out. You know, Fiona, Miles, Jason- Hope you don't mind a crowd," he teased.

"Hell yah, we're a punk band! We're called the Amphetamines!" He grinned laughing from the back of the van.

"Oh my god I'm so fucking scared!" Napalm had really ragged breath.

"Don't worry dude, just remember, no one can hear the bassist in the first place." He snickered, it seemed to get Napalms spirits up a bit.

"Hell, I'm always nervous, an I'm still going in there! For some reason. You'll be fiiine!" Manic tried to reassure him as they sped down towards the venue.

After maybe ten minutes tops, they'd arrived at their show location. There was a slightly larger crowd, and judging by the amount of colors and a few of the faces they could make out, it looked like some of them were from their school. As they left the van in front of the side entrance, a few other animals came up to see Scourge. A red fox woman, a snobby fox boy, a few of his normal crew members. Some of them didn't seem to like being there. Not fans, presumably.

"Boomer, Jason, help us get this crap in there!" He shouted, prompting a walrus and yet another hedgehog to step forward. Scourge and Manic still carried in drums and amps together, seemingly caught up in a serious conversation.

Oxide didn't bother listening in. It was his friends, he didn't need to butt into Manic's life even further. Besides, they needed to get this stuff in quickly.

After 5 minutes of loading up and hauling ass, the band got everything onstage. The manager gave them the ok to play, they got onstage and looked around. There was a decent crowd of 30-40 people out there.

As Oxide gave a very brief introduction to the crowd, Manic scanned the faces. Of course, Scourge and his crew, some other punks who were there the last time they played, and if he wasn't mistaken, a few kids from their school. Given that they just wrote most of these songs three days prior and hadn't performed a show before, there was a lot of pressure to perform well. Oxide gave the cue, and there was a pause.

Manic froze. He was supposed to start out this song with a drum line, but he couldn't lift his sticks. He'd never played for an audience before, and it was starting to come out. Why couldn't he move his arms?! He had to play, something, anything! He was a good drummer, he could pull this off! Why wasn't he playing?!

Oxide started up with a guitar riff for a completely different song. What was he-

Like an automaton, Manic immediately started into the drum line as soon as the riff ended. Sheer muscle memory was driving him through the songs where anxiety stopped him from playing, and he was playing well. More than well, actually. All their practice was paying off.

Oxide jumped into the air when Manic started drumming. Napalm managed to keep up, though due to his much smaller size, it was much harder to hold a bass. Oxide got up to the mic and start singing.

"wearing, you're klan hood

Sucking on, the white man's chode

Hanging people from the trees

Wearing, your klan coat

Kill the KKK

Kill the KKK"

Oxides vocals were now able to be heard, and it was shown that he had a very rough sounding singing voice.

It definitely carried a lot of vocal fry, much more than Manic's. But this was punk rock, and that only helped his performance. The singing carried all through the room, blunt line after blunt line reverberating through the amps. Maybe the band was making an all-around amateur performance. But the audience realized just how young they were, and didn't seem to mind. Hell, most of them seemed to be enjoying the show.

And as their songs carried on, Manic began to find his rhythm again. Whatever fear was stopping him from playing at first was gone, as his focus drifted to making sure every smash was perfectly timed. It was cacophanous and absolutely perfect in his mind.

They finished their set and the crowd cheered, they were also covered in spit as well. Hey, if they don't gob at you, means they don't like the performance.

"Ah, man, thats- That's kinda gross!" Manic said as they began to move their equipment, shaking off some of the spit that managed to reach that far back on the stage. The drums disassembled quickly, and were easy to move away as they waited for the next band to get on stage.

"Sorry about freezing up like that at the start. Thanks for saving my ass, guys."

"Yah man, that's alright." Napalm said, taking off his spit covered shirt. Oxide reappeared from the club after taking a little longer than the rest.

"We're playing in 3 days," Oxide said.

"Again?" Manic seemed quite genuinely surprised. But the crowds seemed to enjoy them. Maybe it was just the novelyty of a band having only three members and skewing so young.

Scourge approached the three outside of the club entrance. "I ain't ever heard a punk show live. You've got some talent," Scourge said. "Anyone who can make Miles that pissy's gotta be making good music." The young fox with the snobby hair was standing with a few other members of Scourge's troupe a distance away from the club, shooting glares and gossiping loudly about what they perceived as subpar music fans.

Manic didn't seem that bothered by him. "Ah, who cares what he thinks? So what, we staying to watch the whole show, or what are we doing?"

"Yah sure, we can get in for free, though it will cut into our cut of the money. " Oxide said. Thirty to forty peeps times two equalled 60-80 pounds right there.

Manic stood back and thought. "Eh, tell you what. Let's just leave 'em here to have a good time without us." He spoke from behind his hand like it was a secret. "With last night, that's at least 110 pounds in two days."

"And where'd you get that kind of money?" The red fox with Scourge walked up and teased the two.

"Hey, Fi, you dumpin' me already?" Scourge clearly knew she was just flirting, given by his massive grin. He pulled Fiona into his arms, with her toying with his chest. "What, you're giving up the REAL green criminal badass and going off-brand?"

"Please, I've played drums for like four days," Manic said, ignoring the almost decade of practice he'd already had before their show. "You've only played your guitar for, pfft, what, ten years? You can't POSSIBLY be half as good."

The three continued with their pointless banter, temporarily leaving Oxide and Napalm out of the conversation. Well, only Oxide, really. Napalm seemed to be in his own conversation with Jason away from the four. Soon enough, Manic turned around and motioned for Oxide to come closer. "Funny thing, Oxi? These guys live out of this van, dude, they're also homeless." He smirked. "I'm almost dissapointed you're missing out on having a shitty, horrible lifestyle~"

Scourge's leather jacket looked like it was very nice, especially for someone who was homeless. Hell, Fiona's clothes were clearly pricey, and those earrings looked like real gold. But with Manic being a thief and Scourge bragging about being a criminal, it was clear how they could 'afford' such nice things.

"Oh cool. If I stayed outside my house for more than one night, then my mom would fucking kill me." He said with nervous laughter, cause it was probably true. His mother has actually told him that, and she could be violent, especially when drunk.

But they didn't catch on the undercurrents completely. They just laughed along with him, leaving his slightly terrifying statement as a joke in their minds.

"Man, don't let her give you that shit!" Scourge said. "Do whatever the hell you want, and if she doesn't like it, that's her problem.

"Well, it'd probably end up being his problem." Manic said. "I'd say you could hang out at my place and work on those lyrics we've been struggling with, but I guess she'd kill you then, too?"

They could hear power chords playing from inside the club. It looked like most of the students from their school had decided to quietly leave at some point, but they could still see a few familiar faces in the crowd. "Eh, come on, they ain't getting any better than us," Manic joked. "Wanna cruise around for a while and do nothing?"

"I thought we were just dumping you guys back at your place and heading out?" Fiona asked her boyfriend. He shrugged, not seeming to care either way.

Manic turned towards Oxide. "I dunno, what are you up for?"

".....I kinda wanna see the show...." He said quietly. Napalm nodded, wanting to do the same. Hell, they were there so they might as well.

"Well, come on, let's see the show!" Manic said, not even giving a moment for them to respond. "We've got fifty pounds to burn, let's get in there!"

It would have been another exciting, brilliant show with a bizarre amount of spitting. And for a while, it was. Manic could see his friends watching, pogoing and enjoying the show for a while, and the music was growing on Manic more and more. For a while, it was perfect. A bit stereotypical, with a small band in a smoky room, but it was fun.

...Smoky?

There was an odd smoke in the air, something Manic couldn't place as some members of the audience slipped into the back room and out, even watching Scourge and Fiona head through. He normally wouldn't have cared - punk traditions weren't his alley, he just like the music - but he then noticed that at some point, Oxide was no longer gobbing at the stage like he normally would have. He couldn't help but peak into the back room.

It was was a smoke room. Pot, tobacco, anything you could smoke, you smoked it here. There was a joint being passed around. Oxide had done this sort of thing before, he took a hit and coughed a little before passing it to some other guy.

Manic could only tell what the cigarettes were. There were strange substances and strange pipes he couldn't identify, and he wasn't sure what to think. It looked like there was some nasty stuff... was there? He honestly couldn't tell, but from the looks of it, the people using it seemed more drugged out than anyone else in the room.

He closed the door again, leaving Oxide and whoever else was in there to do as they wanted. The fumes were making him feel a little slow, and he still had a show to enjoy. He just kept an eye on that door, making sure he didn't see anyone who looked like they were ODing, or anything.

Oxide came out, his eyes a tad red from all the pot. He then went to the front of the stage and pogo'd, gobbing as well just like the rest of the audience.

Manic hadn't seen drugs used in person before. He heard horror stories, but other than that, nothing. Still, Oxide didn't seem like he was having the kinds of horrible symptoms he'd heard from a few loose awful stories. He seemed like he was having the time of his life, and the few of Scourge's crew that actually stuck around didn't seem to mind. Was he just being square about this stuff?

Chord after chord, song after song. Another violent, loud concert that was probably audible to anyone in the neighborhood. Manic kept near the back of the club this time, dancing but mostly staying away from whatever those weird spitting rituals punks had were. He'd been spit on enough for one day. Which was to say, he got spat on by absolutely anyone. And once more, the music carried on for much longer than it felt like it did.

The concert ended, and everyone piled into the van to drive around and do nothing like they were going to do originally. "So what now?" Oxi asked, looking around the van.

Their gear was stashed near the side of the panel van. Around the floor that Manic, Oxide and Napalm were sitting around on were some beanbags and a lot of garbage and litter. The van certainly looked lived in. Fiona sat in the passenger seat as Scourge drove them around mindlessly, some rock station turned up and with most of them just chatting mindlessly along to whatever was playing.

"And I swear, she said those kinds of things would 'rot your flesh off!'" Manic said, still not over what he'd seen. "How was smoking some weird drug supposed to do that?!" "That's not the nasty stuff," Fiona added. Scourge glanced over from the driver's seat. "If you're didn't like seeing that stuff, you wouldn't wanna see what goes on in underground clubs," he teased. "Shut up!" Manic shouted back. "What, don't call me stupid about drugs just because I was stupid about drugs!" "Drugs are awesome." Oxi poked in. Just bluntly saying like that got him a few stares. "What? You haven't stolen some pill bottle from a 200 year old lady in some retirement home?" He asked, looking around at the surprised faces. They were surprised for different reasons. Fiona was simply surprised, hearing him speak up for the first time in a while and not knowing what to make of that. Scourge was more amused than surprised, actually laughing at what he said. "What, just random pills?! You don't even know what you're getting into? That's all kinds of stupid," he laughed, clearly not thinking of it as a tragedy. Manic, however, was mortified. There were the kinds of things he'd heard about drug users. It was one thing to think of these kinds of traits on a random vague person who was presented as an antagonist. It was another thing to hear them coming out of the mouth of someone he actually liked. Manic was trying to come up with some way he could justify this for Oxide without challenging his beliefs, but nothing was happening. He sat there, staring, as Scourge and Fiona started shouting hollow insults at one another in jest. Manic leaned over while the two were distracted. "Uh... You aren't being serious, right?" "I've slowly gotten to know what kind of pills do what, and which ones I do need to stay away from, but before that, I'd just snatch a random pill bottle while helping out at the retirement home centre or wherever and see what they do to my body. Of course I don't take all of them at once." It was that line 'see what they do to my body' that got to Manic. There were many, many mixed thoughts. Anger, sadness, fury, even a little jealousy at how carefree he was with himself. But still, bad thoughts echoed through Manic's head, as well as every word Scourge had spoken to him. "Don't get fucked up, dude. Okay?" Manic was oddly somber as he spoke, not that the three others in the car even seemed to be listening. "Alright, alright." Oxi wrapped his arm around Manics neck and gave him a noogie, laughing out loud. "Ey, ey, quit it, dude!" Manic protested, trying to break free but laughing the whole time. Suddenly slingshotting from one emotion to another caught Manic off guard, and he ended up genuinely laughing at the moment. Oxide knew what he was doing. He hoped he knew, anyways, but he was still healthy. He had to stop worrying, and let loose. When he finally pulled free of Oxide's grip, he slammed back towards the van, slamming into Napalm... and after a moment, laughed again. "Ah, sorry, dude!" Manic said, helping him up. "You alright, mate?" "Yah I'm alright." He giggled. "Hey, I know a great place we can eat at." Oxide went to the front of the van, poking his head in from between the seats. Scourge and Fiona gave one another a glare. Then, Scourge turned back to look at Oxide. "Where's it at?" They weren't driving anywhere in particular, just wasting gas and seeing if they saw anyone they could mess with. The van turned around and rocketed back from the way there were coming, speeding through lights and taking back road shortcuts that were more for Scourge to show off than to save any time. They weren't in a hurry. So they kept singing along to whatever came on the radio, until they finally made those last few turns. "THERE IT IS!" Oxide yelled incredibly loudly, forgetting he wasn't screaming on stage from earlier. Oxi went into the back and sat back down, waiting to get out. No one cared that he was yelling. Maybe Fiona was getting tired of hanging out with a bunch of screaming dudes all day, but she wasn't saying anything yet. They didn't know what this place was, but it wasn't a fancy part of town, so no one was complaining. "What is this mess, anyways?" Manic said, dying to get an answer. "Its an awesome burger joint. Huge burgers for really low prices," he said, kicking the doors open and hopping out. Napalm just kinda fell out of the van, picking himself up after falling. When the five piled into the restaurant, the rooster running the register visibly went through from shock to disappointment to acceptance, cycling through the stages of grief. It appeared that this wasn't Scourge's first visit. "Heeeey, punk," Scourge schmoozed as he strolled up to the counter. "Glad to see you got the place all fixed up." "I've had a long day," the exasperated employee sighed out. Clearly, whatever Scourge did here last time left some kind of impact. "What do you want?" The burgers they could see people eating around the restaurant weren't big, they were absolutely massive. Manic rubbed his hands in anticipation as they all made their orders to an employee that probably shouldn't have had to deal with Scourge. "Heh, you know this guy?" Oxide asked, looking at Scourge with a smirk on his face as he pointed to the rooster. "Know him?" Fiona teased, walking up and running a finger down the face of the clearly tired employee. "He's such a good worker. He didn't even call the cops when we came here last time!" "Last time." Manic said, curious about this story. "You know, someone screws up our order, we screw up their restaurant." Scourge shrugged. "Fair's fair." "I'm just the guy who runs the register," he protested again. "Alright, let's give him a tiny, short, brief break." Manic said, impatient to finally try one of those monstrous burgers. "I'mma get one of your number five- No, seven? Yeah, number seven. Gimme that cheesy mess." "Number 9," Oxide said, which was the veggie burger. "Number 1," Napalm went next, which was the normal cheese burger. "And a large Coke as well, and for this guy, too." Oxi added in. Scourge and Fiona didn't seem to want to stop teasing them, but they'd had their fun. By the time they finished placing their order, Scourge handed over a debit card. Pretty swanky, given how young he was. "Whaddya mean it's not working?" Scourge asked. "Swipe it again." He swiped it five or six times, before Scourge went back into his wallet to fish around for his card- "And thank you~" The moment they got their food, Scourge grabbed the bag and jetted out of the building without even bothering to pay. Manic grabbed Napalm by the arm and virtually dragged him out of the building as they made their sudden, petty escape. Oxide however, wasn't an asshole and paid for his food. He grabbed his cup and went to one of the new fountain drinks that have been popping up around here lately. He filled it with his soda and left, along with Napalm's soda. He got in the car and shot them looks. "You really are a bunch of arse holes arn't you?" "Ain't we all?" Scourge cooed out with a massive, toothy smile. "Some of us steal food, some of us old people's medicine, who're you to judge?" Manic shot Scourge a glare, but he was barely shaken by it. Manic didn't quite agree with this, either, but hell, it was free food for him. He wasn't going to complain, especially from the delicious melted cheese smell wafting from their bag. "Don't be an ass, dude." Once again, Scourge seemed unfazed. He clearly didn't care what he was called. Oxide then whispered to Manic. "Think I should dump my soda on his head?" He asked, pointing to Scourge. "Like, he deserves it, but it's also a waste of a soda." Manic said back. "Just use something else. Napalm probably won't miss his soda~" The glare he shot at Manic indicated he would, indeed, miss his soda. Manic just made a smug face back at him. "Hell, you don't like the way we roll, then get outta the van," Scourge shot back. "Hey, don't kick him out yet, we still gotta drop this stuff off, dude." Manic said in some desperate attempt to try and lighten the mood. "Jesus christ mate, calm down." Oxide laughed, seeing him get all pissy because Oxide didn't like the way Scourge just snatched the food. "Then again, I shouldn't talk, I nicked 50 pounds from a cash register so I really have no reason to judge." Scourge still seemed mildly angry, but maybe he was just being stubborn. Fiona seemed mildly amused, and Manic just looked away looking embarrased. "And I'm guessing Manic talked you into that?" She asked, giving Manic a joking glare. He was currently gnawing down on his stolen meal. He took a moment to swallow a bite of that heavenly burger before continuing. "Uuuh, yeah, more or less," Manic laughed out. "We kind of screwed up at nicking something, and guess he jumped in to help." "Yah." Oxide said, slurping down his soda as he wolfed down his burger. "Jesus christ, these things are amazing," Oxide said, mouth watering from the flavour, and they were huge too. It was clear that the others shared their sentiment. Napalm was chowing down happily, Fiona clearly didn't care about being ladylike as she made a mess of her meal, and even Scourge took the time to eat while he drove, making his driving even more erratic than usual. Everyone was loving their meals. Manic a little too much,as barely after starting to eat his, he was already finished somehow. "Ah, man, that was awesome..." He then remembered just how much burger he was actually eating. "I'd wanna go back for another, but-" "How?!" Scourge snapped at him. "That thing was as big as your head!" "Minus the hair," Oxide chimed in. Napalm snickered at that, Oxi did too. "But seriously, that hardly filled me up at all, even though it was as big as my stomach. If not bigger." "I mean, there's that, but like, I think we probably got kicked out for that? SCOURGE?" Manic sassed at Scourge. "Hey, they'll forget about it in a month or two," He shot back. "How much do you guys eat, anyways? Thought someone's cute as you wouldn't eat at all." Manic and Fiona seemed unfazed by the 'cute' comment. "That burger's probably enough to keep him going for a year," Fiona joked between bites. "Cute?" Oxide questioned. "What are you, gay?" Napalm laughed, Oxi did the same. "Like there's nothing wrong with that it's just.....weird," Said Napalm, finishing off his soda. "What makes you think I'm gay?" Scourge said, grinning widely and pointing his thumb back towards Fiona. "You think anyone could resist that?" Fiona put down her meal, having eaten a surprising amount given how thin she was. She hopped into the front passenger seat, and kissed Scourge on the lips. "Feeling's mutual," she gleamed back. "And who cares if I like dudes?" Scourge said in a joking tone it almost sounded like he stole from Manic, and warped into his own strange way of talking. "You don't like that, then get out of-" "Can you stop kicking Oxide out? That's the second time today," Manic interjected, dripping with sarcasm. "Hey, you wanna get kicked out twice, too?" Scourge shot back. This was the first time Oxide noticed the kinds of glares Manic and Scourge were occasionally exchanging all night, always followed by looking away and pretend like nothing had happened. "At least drop us off at the place you picked us up from, Jesus christ....." Oxi then took a look at Manic. He did seem pretty cute, and this time he allowed those thoughts to run freely in his head. "You sure?" Scourge just turned back to the road. "Whatever." Each look the two of them gave kept lingering over the other's body. There was no doubt that there was some kind of interest between Manic and Scourge. But these looks took a backseat to some normal chatting as the five started the short drive from wherever they were back to Manic's place. Scourge's erratic driving only made it even shorter. "Alright, get your stuff outta here," Scourge said as soon as they parked by the building. The drums were already bagged up, and the amps and guitars were easy to lift. But once again, Scourge and Manic spoke in private as the two other hedgehog moved the gear back into the building. It looked fairly serious, too. But with a high five, Manic spun back around, and Scourge and Fiona rocketed down the street once again. "Ah man," Manic said as he stretched his arms over his head. "That show was brutal, guys. I can't believe we pulled that mess off." "Yah. and we got another show in 3 days." Oxide smiled, putting his guitar into the practice space before leaving for his house. "Bye Manic, see you at school tomorrow." He got into his bedroom and then plopped down onto the bed, falling into dream land. "Wait-" By the time Manic said it, he was already too far away to hear. What was he getting nervous? What wasn't the punk thing to do! But there was nothing he could do about it now. Before Napalm left, he zeroed him out. "Hey, dude, can you... I dunno, dude, do you think you could say you're too sick to practice tomorrow, or something?" Manic scratched the back of his head. "Me and Oxide have a lot to talk about tomorrow." "Yah, sure, I guess...." Napalm shrugged, walking off to go back to his house. The morning sun rose behind the thick layer of clouds, it was now October and it seems some teachers were returning to school, probably just so they get paid. "If any of you are still awake," their geometry teacher sputtered out, "we're going to start our unit on radians... ..." Circles. It was just boring, boring circles. Manic scribbled on the papers around him as the teacher droned on. He wanted to talk with Oxide, sure, but he didn't mind school giving them an excuse to keep procrastinating. But Oxide couldn't read this during any of their classes. All he could tell was that Manic was nervous, and Tristan seemed like he'd come down with something. Oxide wrote down what the teacher told them, being a goody little two shoes for the time being. He glanced at manic, the same thoughts running through his head. He had to focus on school right now though, so he went back to writing the equation. And that's how it went for most of the day. Either Manic felt like he had to focus, Oxide felt like he had to focus, or they were in a class with a teacher who wouldn't let anyone talk. Most times, multiple cases ended up being true. So the day dragged on and on... "Pukey?" Just as planned, Napalm had stopped the two on their way out of the school, with Manic playing along. "What, you think you'd vom all over the practice room?" "Yah...not feeling to good...." He said. He walked off after saying that, leaving Oxide and Manic alone. "Ok....so why did you wanna talk to me, Manic?" He asked, looking at him. There were still some straggling students leaving the school. "You mind if we talk about it on the way to my place? We could practice a little without him, you know." It was only a slightly longer walk to Manic's place than to Oxide's. The streets carried on, the more decrepit stretches of buildings having nearly empty streets. He finally got to the point as the got nearer. "You know how Scourge, like, said he was into guys?" Manic asked. He started by testing the waters, and seeing if he could see any pangs of nervousness out of Oxide. "That's- it's not that weird, right dude? Cause we've been talking, and I mean, I think I might be into him, but he's already got Fiona." He looked away. "I ain't gonna break up what they've got. I just- I didn't think I was a homo. Is that cool with you, dude?" Oxide froze. Manic was homo? Maybe he could actually come out to him. He bit his lower lip, sweat going down the side of his head. "Uhh...Manic....can I tell you something? " He asked, squirming a little, afraid. Manic was removing the padlock at this point. Just from the way Oxide talked and jutted around, he felt like he knew what he was going to say. He pushed the door open, and laughed lightly. "Are you into me?" Manic lead Oxide in, spinning around in the empty room to face him. Oxide was surprisingly bashful for the kinds of songs he tended to sing, but it just made him look cute. "I was asking Scourge about how to tell you this stuff, and he gave all this advice about being slick and all that shit, but I don't wanna be fake." He laughed again, a bit nervous himself about what he was about to say. "You're... pretty hot, Oxi." This made blush even more. "Uhh....Uhh. ...I......" Oxide couldn't even think of something to say he was so embarrassed. ".....Same to....you...." He said bashfully. "I didn't think you'd be embarrased," Manic said. he stepped forward slowly, giving Oxide plenty of time to push back. But he didn't. Manic's twitching hands wrapped around Oxide's waist. He was trying to act casual, but his acting skills were beginning to be off-set by sheer nervousness. He faced Oxide head on. "Have you ever kissed a guy?" His lips were parted, but he waited for Oxide to make his move, if he wanted. "N-No....But...." He swallowed, feeling like he was trying to choke down a cue ball. "I....I've always wanted to....to be honest...." He looked away then back to Manic. Not knowing if he should make the first move or if Manic should. Manic just smirked. "I mean it, dude, you're cute." He pulled Oxide slightly closer. "Really cute..." He moved in slowly for his first gay kiss. There was no tongue kissing or anything, just simple movements to learn exactly how kissing worked. Not that they needed any help, they didn't think. This feeling was perfect to them, for just the short few moments it lasted. Manic pulled away first, not sure what to think. He moved in again, wanting the moment to last. Oxi did too, he helped out by wrapping his arms around Manic as well to kiss him back, moaning softly as their lips touched a second time. He was in heaven, his first boyfriend. Even if people thought it was weird, he didn't. They kissed for much longer before pulling away to breathe. "I don't have anything going on," Manic said. "I was just gonna hang out here and do some homework, maybe rob someone else or summat." He laughed at himself. He couldn't believe he just said that. Oxide's shamelesness was starting to affect him. "You wanna head out? We could just stay in, too." He smiled, pulling Manic close. "Sure, I'd love that....." He said, walking off with Manic. He wanted to hold hands, but they were in public and he didn't wanna get beaten up by a bunch of jocks. There weren't too many places they could walk to that they could really talk about this stuff at. Having a boyfriend, any kind of flirting, they couldn't do that. They certainly wanted to, but they knew they couldn't. Their walk brought them past some bougie restaurants they couldn't really afford, some run down shopping district, and a few of the small parks in the area. For two punk rock musician, it was strangely twee. Manic kept trying to say something, but it was strange now. Things were clearly going to be different, and he wasn't sure what would have been appropriate. Oxide had a smile on his face, he was happy that he's got someone to be with, he couldn't care less if it was the same gender or not. They decided to walk to that burger joint. "I'll go in, since I actually paid for my stuff....." He laughed, winking at him before going into the burger joint. The rooster seemed relieved that it was only Oxide in the store. So he happily - well as happily as a minimum wage employee could get - served Oxide his food. Oxide came walking back out, giving Manic his food as well as a soda. "Hey, I didn't STEAL my food, that was all Scourge!" Manic protested, knowing this was completely untrue. "Thanks, dude. How'd you even hear about this place?" He didn't wait around this time, sitting down so he could unwrap that burger and show down as soon as possible. It was some different burger. Manic normally wouldn't have cared for a veggie burger, but this joint found a way to even make them delicious. "Ah, dude, that can't be vegetables, can it?" His only experiences with vegetables had been blandly cooked or steamed, nothing with proper spices and good cooking. "I know right? Oh yah, I guess I should mention the fact that I'm vegetarian." he said before biting into his burger, and taking a sip from his soda. "So....what do you wanna do now?.....boyfriend...." He asked with a small blush. Manic took a scared glance around. No one else had heard Oxide. "I mean, I don't really care, dude. We don't have to be mushy, I just like hanging out with you." He scratched his head. "I kinda wanna hang out alone, I don't really feel safe doing this stuff in public." He chuckled. "But you can protect me, can't you?" His normal sarcasm was back, it seemed. "Yes, I can protect the little princess that is Manic the hedgehog." He laughed, teasing him a bit before calming down as he began to eat and slurp down his meal. "But seriously, what else is there to do? Honestly, so fuckin' bored of this fucked up city. Depression, no future, bullshit music on the radio, Nothing....It sucks...." "If all the music's bullshit, that why we've gotta make it better." Manic smirked. "Ain't that the point of having a band?" ".......God damn you're smart...." He said, finishing off his burger. "Come on, let's go get Napalm and let's practice. We got a show in 2 days now...." He reminded Manic. This was true, they needed to get better. Sure the crowd liked them the first time, but that's because it was their first concert, so it was forgivable. But now they would have to play harder, faster, and tighter. Manic laughed slightly. "So what, you saw right through Napalm's acting? He ain't that great, is he? I'll go tell him to stop over, you head back to my place and get the stuff all set up." He handed the key over to Oxide. "Got it?" "Sure man." He smiled. He then looked around, making sure no in was watching before he locked lips with Manic, pulling away soon after before walking off to the practice space. It was a bit of a wait, but Oxide had plenty of time to tune his guitar and practice some chords on his own before Manic arrived with a very confused Napalm. "Alright, we've gotta get these songs DOWN. We were great, let's make it better." They turned up the amps. Now that they had some kind of a set and some kind of songs, their practice was much more focused. They had played them enough times to know what sounds good and what doesn't. Which notes needed particular emphasis, or sounded better slightly out of time? It was almost like they were broken with how often they would play one particular part over and over again and again, before doing the same for another small patch that should have sounded fine. Their ears were starting to get more refined to their own songs. Oxide decided to start speeding up the pace of the songs, playing all down strums as they hammered through their 10-11 song set list. It was sounding better and better each and every day till the concert. And practice was getting more and more intense with each day until the concert. By the time they were finished with some last minute fine tuning the day of the concert, Manic was definitely feeling awful. He was thankful Oxide didn't decide to do this on one of their full day practices, he probably couldn't have handled that just yet. Still, all this practice was keeping him in shape, so he wasn't complaining. "This just gonna be a normal thing for us now? Like, same time every day?" Manic wiped his arm across his forehead, brushing off some sweat. "Yah.....now let's go...we gotta load up and go to the concert...." Oxide said, giving him a kiss. By this point Napalm knew what was going on, he didn't mind. Oxi and the band started packing things up and waited for Scourge. But they waited longer than they expected. Ten minutes passed... fifteen... twenty in all, before Scourge even bothered rolling up. "Scourge, what're you doing, we're on stage in like half an hour!" Manic helped the band hastily shove their equipment into the van. "We've still gotta do soundcheck and set up again!" "Calm down," Scourge said with that smug, wide grin. "I'll have you there in five minutes." This was no easy feat, but damn if he didn't try. Speed limits were treated as vague suggestions, with Scourge taking two different 'shortcuts' over the course of their wild drive to avoid police. The van suddenly screeched to a stop in front of the venue, Manic visibly reenergized by the intense car ride. "What, it's already over?!" Manic shouted, acting as though the three hadn't had an intense practice session. "Come on, guys, help me haul this crap in!" Oxide and Napalm hopped out and started hauling gear on stage, and doing it fast, setting up the drums, amps, mics and such. Finally, they got everything onstage, except for Napalms bass, which they forgot. "Shit! I forgot my bass!!!" Napalm panicked, but the bassist of 999 chimed in. "You can borrow my bad mate, just don't break it." He smiled, handing him the bass. Napalm thanked him before plugging in. No time for sound check, there was only time to play in front of an audience of 60. Manic could feel his heart race again. He'd forgotten how he froze up at their last show, and just prayed that as soon as Oxide was done saying something to the audience- Manic wasted no time. Driving through what was supposed to be their intro song last time with surgical precision. He wasn't just focused on precision, but power. Damn, he was going to need power to be audible over Oxide's performance. Oxide bounced around all over the stage, at times trying to dodge the hurls of spit thrown at him and the band. Even though getting gobbled at was a sign that they liked you, it wasn't very pleasant, cause when he looked over at Napalm, he was visibly disgusted at what was going on. Manic at least had the benefit of having an entire drum set around him, but Napalm didn't have that kind of protection. The moment Oxide looked over to him, Manic motioned towards Napalm to try and tell Oxide to shield him at least a little. He only had a moment to get this across, before yet another intense burst of drums came in. They'd have to come up with something for next time. Oxide sure as hell wasn't gonna take the gunk people where spitting at them, Napalm can tough it out. Hey, Oxide was having the same problems, but he was toughing them out no problem. Manic wasn't really sure what he expected. He knew he didn't want to get spit on any more than they did, so he wasn't judging. It was strange to course through these songs on a stage. Not because of the audience, but because he kept reliving bits and pieces of their practices. Many, many pieces of practice. Offhanded lines about single moments were etched into his mind, and he couldn't tell if it was because they were so new. It was completely new, and Manic was all about new experiences. It was frightening in an exhilerating way, and only drove him to hit the drums harder and harder. After their last song, the crowd cheered. While the rest of the band was putting away gear, Oxide went over to collect payment, which was 20 pounds. After, he went over to help out the rest of the band and haul the rest of the gear into Scourge's van. "Were you guys on something?!" scourge said, clearly excited. "You've got a ton of talent." Manic blushed at the comment, and once again, they had one of those cushy stares. He didn't give the same to Oxide, thankfully, but he did help him carry all his stuff to the van. When the final amp was loaded, Manic turned to Scourge. "Man, you need to drive me back, this mess is disgusting." He said, shaking the legs of his pants that got covered in spit. Scourge said something to Manic quietly. He made a goofy face and grinned. "Yeah, I already told him, dude." Manic walked over to Oxide, and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "Turns out... he's just as gay as me." "Bisexual actually, I like both cocks and tits~" he smirked, pulling Manic into a sloppy kiss the moment they got into the van and out of the public eye. "Don't worry about being subtle with me around," Scourge said, "Anyone screams at you guys, I'll fuck 'em up." Napalm seemed just as uncomfortable when they started the drive back to drop off the equipment, with Manic and Oxide kissing and flirting shamelessly in the back. "Don't worry, kid." Scourge gave Napalm a condescending pat on the back. "You'll find a piece of ass someday." This absolutely didn't make him more comfortable, but Scourge didn't seem to notice or care. When they arrived, Manic hopped out of the van almost immediately. "I'll be right back, guys, I'm just getting pants that aren't covered in spit. Just start getting stuff in!" He didn't even give them a chance to respond before rushing inside. "Manic couldn't shut up about you a week back," Scourge said to Oxide. "You're lucky, I almost wanted to make a move... You make him real happy." ".....yah don't you have Fiona though?" Oxide asked, looking at Scourge as he unloaded equipment into the practice space. "Yah man, be fuckin' faithful to you're woman dude..." Napalm added in, putting the bass amp into the practice space. "You say that like she wouldn't know," Scourge said. "And you say that like I'd choose between 'em." Manic finally came down the stairs, wearing virtually identical but less spit stained pants. "Alright, I think that show's gonna leave me sore for like, five years?" Still, he trundled out of the building and carried one of the few remaining things inside. "Hey, dude, thanks again. Sorry about the spit stains." "Don't even care about 'em," Scourge said. He nodded at the three band members before shooting down the street again. "Ah man, that was awesome, guys!" Manic didn't want to contain his excitement. "Ah man, I think I wanna sleep for ten years." "Then let me join you~" Oxide cooed, pulling him into the practice space, leaving Napalm outside by himself. "That was kind of cold, dude," Manic teased about Napalm being left outside. He thought they were just joking around... but Oxide was being serious. He was being nudged towards the stairs, and he was putting on his flirting voice. "Woah, woah, dude, wait." Manic said, clearly very nervous. "I mean... I mean, I'm not saying no, dude, but I haven't ever-" He swallowed. "You know what I'm trying to say, dude, you get me? I haven't even had a boyfriend before." Oxide stopped for a moment, then pulled away. "You're right.....that was kinda cold of me, wasn't it?" Manic just smiled. "Dude, he's your friend, I'm sure he'll be fine with it. We've both been treating him like such a third wheel..." He swung the door open. Napalm was already walking away from the building. "Wait, dude, we were just playing a joke!" He was rushing down the street. Damn, he'd been ignoring Napalm badly. Napalm was pretty angry. "What the fuck do you want, you fucking cock sucker?" Napalm cussed at Manic, he was really angry. "I don't wanna fucking talk to you....." He began to run away. Manic's initial thought was to keep trying to call him out for calling him a cock sucker, but that wouldn't help. His second was to try to open up to him, but Napalm didn't want to talk. He kept chasing, though, just to say one more thing. "Dude, if you wanna talk, I'll be here, okay?" Napalm didn't respond. He ran. Manic slowly walked back towards his home, Oxide waiting near the door. "I fucked up real bad," he admitted. "Really bad, dude. Fuck... fuck!" It was all he could think to say. As the last week began to replay in his head, just how much of a third wheel he'd become was becoming more and more obvious, and Manic was slowly growing angry at himself. Oxide came out, watching Napalm disappear into the horizon. "Don't worry, I've know this guy for a while, he'll get over it pretty quickly,. He always has when I've pissed him off, or if someone else has. He's not one to stay angry for long." He assured Manic, knowing he probably was really angry at himself for making Napalm third wheel for this long. "Still... Ah, whatever." Manic shook off the nerves, hoping Oxide was right. There wasn't anything he could do about it now, anyways. The two stood facing one another, slightly awkward. "Hey, dude, uh, were you being serious before?" Manic was blushing heavily again. He couldn't believe he was being this brave. "You wanna stay the night?" Oxide wasn't being very serious, bur he kinda did. "....Uhh.....yah sure...." He smiled, wrapping an arm around Manic's waist. " Oh wait, hold on." He then ran off. He came 5 minutes later. "Had to get mums permission to sleep over at your house." "'House'." Manic scoffed. "Don't worry, dude, you're fine." It was just another walk upstairs. It felt different to walk upstairs this time, not that they knew what they were going to do. They were anxious to start... Very anxious, in fact. "Wait, mate." Manic kept backing up on the mattress or pulling away from kisses whenever they tried to get more intimate. "I thought I'd be more adventurous than this. Um... You mind if we just hang out tonight?" He seemed incredibly embarrassed, like he'd shamed Oxide. Oxi blinked, looking at Manic who looked incredibly cute with how much he was blushing. A smirk appeared on his face, and he chuckled. "Sure." He said. "Alright, dude, cool, cool." He didn't know why he was backing out now. Maybe it was that same thing stopping him from playing earlier? He wasn't a nervous person, right? He was a rock musician, he couldn't be scared! But here he was chickening out yet again. Not that he minded, in this case. It was nice to law down next to Oxide on some crappy mattress, turn on an old radio and listen to whatever they could find. Oxide was weirdly cuddly, and Manic didn't think he'd be into that, but once more, here he was. The could hear the wind howl from behind the dusty skylight, and watched as the last bits of indigo light disappeared into night. Oxide had both arms wrapped around Manic, hugging him tightly as he watched the sun set before there was no more sun to set. However, he was in the mood to make out a little, so he pulled Manic close and locked lips with his. Manic had thought of his little place as abandoned, or screwed up, or just a massive sack of crap. He didn't think he could get romantic in a place like this, but he was making out with a guy he'd only been interested in for a few days. Manic might have been worried about going all the way, but some making out was definitely fine with him. The night rolled by, the moon and stars their silent witnesses. Memories came rushing back to Manic as he woke up... Oxide had actually gotten him comfortable enough. There were many thoughts going through his head, and the fact he was with Oxide made the pleasant thoughts that much stronger. He was too tired to get up, so he let Oxide sleep against his chest as he ran his hands down his orange partner's back. His fur was warm to the touch. Oxi snored softly, his face pressed against Manics chest as he was still in dreamland, reliving the moments he had with Manic not long ago in that land. Manic did move a bit, to turn on the radio to something that was actually playing music in the morning. Nothing loud enough to wake him up, but just some noise to make the moment even better. He pulled the blanket back over them both, and let his sleeping partner cuddle for as long as he wanted. Maybe the air was dusty, maybe the rain against the skylight was harsh, maybe they were using bundled pieces of Manic's clothes as pillows. They didn't care even a little. "Thanks," he mumbled, kissing him on the lips as his lover slept. This woke Oxi up. He wasn't complaining cause he kissed his lover right back, giving some tongue this time as well, to add to the moment. It was unexpected and entirely welcome. Just a lazy morning between them. Sure it was passionate, but it was only as passionate as they could manage to be for how tired they were. They regularly stopped to breathe, or lazily roll over. They just wanted to keep kissing one another, and forget about anything else. Manic eventually broke the kiss to speak properly. "We've already missed our first three classes," he said, clearly fine with that fact. "Shit, oh well. Come on let's go, we can get all mushy afterwards~" He cooed, getting up as he put his shirt back on. He had a skinny, but very muscular appearance. They threw their clothes back on and grabbed Manic's school stuff. He lent some pencils and paper to Oxide, it wasn't like they needed anything else, their textbooks were all old anyways. And thankfully, they arrived just before the fifth period bell. They were able to enter into the crowds of students shuffling from class to class like they'd been there the whole day. But their French class wasn't quite as smooth as their entrance. Manic wasn't near Oxide this period, instead next to Napalm, who still seemed a little angry. He just happened to miss the spelling of a certain word. "Hey, dude, how do you spell 'ar-jeaunt'?" Napalm didn't reply. "Dude?" He just continued to work, not looking at Manic. He was thinking about something, and that something was telling the entire school that Manic and Oxide were gay for each other. He then looked at Manic. "........what?........." "Mate, I know what we did was shitty. I'm sorry, okay?" The sentiment was genuine, but the delivery wasn't Manic's best. The words more tumbled out clumsily, than anything. "Manic?" Their teacher said across the room, clearly calling him out for speaking in class. "If you're done chatting, can you repeat the name for 'yellow'?" "Uh, jaune, right?" "...Correct," she spoke, keeping an eye on Manic as she turned back to their colors unit. Manic kept peeking at Napalm, who didn't exactly look moved by Manic's apology. Napalm wasn't as angry, but he wasn't gonna just say, "Ok now we're friends again." They still were, but Napalm looked like he wanted some time to himself. He gave Napalm another concerned glade before class was over, but then dropped it. Once Mrs. Owens started calling students out, people knew to go on high alert. "...And he was just like that all day." Manic and Oxide spoke during their final period. "I dunno, I don't think he's coming to practice. You sure he'll be fine?" "Yah....At least I think so." "Collins Atskins?" The teacher called out. "Here!" Oxi called back, raising his hand as he did so. After that, he turned his attention back to Manic. "This is pretty new to him, he's only 13 and with all the shit people feed others about people like us, it's probably had an affect on him...." Oxi explained. "It's weird we're this much older than him," Manic said. "Hope he didn't hear too much of that garbage." But any kind of socializing in a high school came with gossip attached. Mostly in vague, sometimes explicitely, it was always there. Even if he didn't realize it Napalm was going to absorb some of it just by existing in a school like this. But class marched on like they weren't having a serious conversation. Why did the teacher show up today, of all days? Why couldn't they go on strike when they needed to get out of school early? Just sitting around and listening to droning lectures was only giving Manic time to overthink the situation. Somehow, he managed through with minimal awful thoughts. They didn't pursue Napalm, but they did see him almost hurry through the halls, and likely leaving through the back entrance. "Well, crap." Manic said as they exited. "You just wanna practice a bit without him? Or- Ah, doing stuff without him's what got him like this." "......." Oxide kinda wanted to do the stuff that made Napalm the way he is today, but, they did need to practise. "Sure, I'll right down some bass tab for new songs..." Oxide said, walking out with Manic. "I guess we should try working in some more prominent bass lines? Punk ain't really about having a groove, but just cause it ain't normal doesn't mean it couldn't work." He needed to think. What could they do that would help make Napalm's role more prominent? "I'd say solos, but he's still bass, and that ain't really a-" "No." Manic cut himself off, smiling. "Punk's all about doing things the 'wrong' or 'rebellious' way, so let's compose the 'wrong' way. How the hell could we make it work?" They could make it work, they knew they could! They learned eleven songs in barely a week, they were capable! They just needed to put in an effort, and probably a hell of an apology later. "Dude, even I can't solo, and I think Napalm only started playing like 3 months ago anyway.....we could throw in some better grooves though....." Oxide thought, spending a couple of hours trying to write bass lines. That was most of what practice was. Grooves, how could they make him more prominant in their sound? They kept plucking at the strings of his bass guitar to remind them of exactly how the instruments soudned together. They needed to get every note tight, which was hard to do without every band member present. "That- that's just straight up funk, right there." Manic joked, in response to a particular line. "Like, it's pretty good funk, but that ain't rock." Eventually, Oxide started playing the basslines on his own guitar, just to make sure that they would sound good. "Uh, can you try it a little faster?" "Yeah... yeah, with a few minor note changes, that one could also work." Manic started playing a simply rhythm, enough to compliment but not enough to overpower. "I think we've gotta get him in here to work on the guitar part, but yeah, that'd be great!" Mild worry pushed them into action, it seemed. They were pretty productive, given it was only the two of them. Oxide finally thought of a good bassline that worked well for 3 of their songs. "Well, now to think of some more." Oxide sighed, however. He put down his bass and walked over to Manic. Once he got close enough, he wrapped his arms around Manic and pulled him into a kiss. Manic knew exactly what he was coming in for. He backed away from his drums a bit and stood up to meed Oxide. They were alone, they were spending time doing music stuff together, it was just going to happen. Another warm kiss to give them a break from their work. "I mean, we've already come up with a bunch and gotten a lot of practice in," Manic said when he pulled away. "We can just call it off for today and head out." "Sure, but....I'd much rather....cuddle.....to be honest....." He said bashfully, his face turning red as can be as his eyes darted away for a short while before going back to meet Manic's. "Why're you being so shy?" Manic said coyly. "You're fine, Oxi, You know I like doing nothing with you." Manic lead the way upstairs again, Manic having hastily cleaned the room. He sat down on the bed, holding Oxide in for a hug. It wasn't anything big or bold, but it was some time with each other, and that's all it needed to be. But Oxi did wanna take it a few steps further, so he locked lips with Manic and began to push him onto the bed, both arms around him as they made out. What was Oxide doing to Manic? He was worried about being a punk band, or getting spat on, or going all the way with someone else. But the more time they spent together, the more comfortable he started to get with these ideas. Much more, in fact. He knew his nerves stopped him from doing things he'd enjoy, and Oxi was pushing him even further into enjoying them. The adventure and thrill of it all was a treat for Manic. Every second they spent together was a treat. So Manic let him make his move. "Nine already?" Manic shifted up to look at the radio. Sure enough, practice and their time together had passed more time than he thought. He did want to keep laying right next to Oxide and keep nuzzling him. Even if he enjoyed being intimate, the time spend nuzzling and cuddling after was the real draw for Manic. Despite all that enjoyment, though, that night was just a little different. "Hey, you know, there's this place downtown that has reeeeeal cheap drinks on Friday nights. Scourge said he'd pick me up in like half an hour, you wanna come along?" He laid back down against Oxide's chest. "Like, a real date?" "Yah sure, lemme go tell my mom. I'll be most likely spending the night here though, or at the very least won't be home till late." Oxide said, getting up and rushing out the door. He came back 15 minutes later, ragged and out of breath. He plopped onto the floor, too tired to move for the next 10 minutes. Manic squatted down next to him. "You didn't have to jog the whole way." He smirked, sitting down next to him and poking fun at one another until they heard some tires screech yet again in front of the building. Scourge was in the front, Fiona sitting right next to him. There were a couple of Scourge's other friends already in the van, although no one Oxide know. Fiona passed Oxide back a small ID card. Did she have a fake ID printed for him? "Thanks mate." He thanked her, wrapping an arm around Manic, softly nuzzling him till they got to the place that Scourge was driving them to. The drive seemed too short, in what felt like a couple of minutes. Actually, it was a couple of minutes because Scourge drove like a fucking psycho. The doors swung open after the van came to a screeching halt. "We're here already?" Oxide asked, letting go of Manic as he stepped out of the van. 'You think we're fucking around in here?" Scourge said. "I don't waste time." It was a small bar deep in the city, the kind surrounded by neon signs and darkened windows. And the begrudging bodyguard out front didn't even check most of the IDs, clearly noticing and not caring that some of the patrons were underage. But inside, it was strangely nice, for someone Scourge or Manic would go. The bar was already filled with many others, a number of whom Manic could identify as some of Scourge's other friends. "Hope y'all brought your own cash," Scourge added with an evil grin. Manic had remembered to nick some money for this, that wasn't his concern. "Oh my god- Oxi, you won't believe who's here," Manic whispered, indicating Oxide towards a table near the far end of the pub, at one of the few patrons in here who wasn't drinking. It was Napalm, a 13 year old in a 16+ bar. He was sipping on a soda. He then looked over and saw Manic and Oxide looking at him. Manic immediately brushed his hair aside and started to walk towards the bar, as though that would have helped the situation. He tugged Oxide along by the arm, giving Napalm his space and hoping this didn't make things astronomically worse. He went right up to Scourge. "Why didn't you tell us Napalm'd be here?" Manic sputtered. "Napalm...? Oh, right, your other band guy." Scourge said. "I didn't know, I didn't tell him. Jason said he was bringing some friend along, he didn't say who." "Oh.....well shit....." Oxide cussed, but anyways, they sat down, trying to forget about the situation. Oxide and Manic went to the counter, Oxide ordered a some whisky mixed with Cola. "Uh..." Manic didn't know what to order. "Okay, honestly? Promise you won't judge." He whispered behind his hand, before turning to one of the two bartenders. "You got anything that's really fruity?" The bartender walked away, coming back with a small glass filled with a dark red drink. "What? Most alcohol tastes awful, who cares if it's strong or whatever?" They sat at a small table close to the bar, not having found any open seats there. "Ugh... sorry, dude, if I knew, I wouldn't've come." He took a sip from his cup. "This stuff just kinda happens around me, y'know?" He let out a small laugh at himself. "Yah, I have the same problem....." Oxide said, looking at him before looking away, seeing a bottle of whisky and a glass bottle of cola, along with a pint cup that had some ice cubes in it. Oxide poured the whisky and cola in at the same time, stopping once the fizz was reaching the top. He let it die down, and poured some more untill the glass was almost full save for some fizz still hanging around. His way of preparing his drink was very methodical. Manic smirked, "I'm guessing this ain't your first time going out drinking?" He certainly wasn't judging, and his red disaster clearly wasn't his first drink. "Woah, that mess is sour!" He said after another taste of his drink. He looked away, wincing a bit. "Like, that's really sour! Damn, I didn't expect that!" He just laughed it off, cursing himself for ordering a random drink. "Here lemme try that...." Oxide said, taking the glass and giving it a taste. "Hmm, yah that is sour, luckily I love sour stuff. Wanna try my drink?" Oxide asked him, sliding his whisky/cola concoction towards Manic. He didn't need more than a sip to know he was liking it. "See, that's the good kind of alcohol, cause it doesn't taste like alcohol." He said like he was some kind of wiseman. His glance kept turning towards the bar, not enough for Napalm to think it was suspicious. And sure enough, he eventually saw that hedgehog Scourge would hang out with talking to Napalm. But he was careful to keep his looks short and subtle. He kept talking as he peaked over. "God, the first one I tried just tasted like dirty nickels, who drinks that stuff?" "Sad, unemployed or minimum wage people in their 40s who have lost all hope in life and haven't had sex in 10 years...." Oxide said, smirking as he finished off his drink. He then just drank the cola and whiskey seperate. Manic was fine with his sour drink, and happily finished it now that he was prepared. Happy enough to get a second cup, in fact. Napalms presence was keeping him on edge, but he was still spending a night drinking and having fun with Oxide, and even though he didn't know too many of Scourge's friends, they were fun to be around. "Hey." Manic spoke bluntly through his drink, now drunk enough to say it in public. "I'm lucky I got to meet you, dude. Thank you." "Jesus christ are you drunk already?" Oxide asked, laughing his ass off. He was tipsy, but it looks like he can take a little more than Manic can. "Jesus christ you're a light weight...." "Hey, I'm not drunk!" Manic said, affecting a slur for the sake of the joke. "Like, I'm the lightest lightweight, but even I'm not that light! Two drinks is like my limit." He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, just to enjoy the energy of the bar. Oxide could see someone at the bar glaring at them... and Scourge standing up and clearly threatening them. They piped down immediately, and started minding their business. It seemed like Scourge's promise wasn't hollow. Manic pulled away. "You need to wash your face, dude, you taste like dirt." But he said it with a big, winning smile. "That's because I slept at your place last night." He laughed, ordering another drink. 3 drinks later and Oxide was visibly drunk, not shitfaced, but he was slurring quite a bit. "Alright, dude, I think we should get you back to your place." Manic said. "Before you pass out in an alley or summat." Manic stood up and lead Oxide out of the bar, happy to see he was still walking properly. "I guess my place is a while away. You just wanna pass out in Scourge's van? I'll keep you safe~" He teased. "Sure, will he mind if he finds us without our clothes 'wrestling'~?" Oxide asked in a very sexual tone, a hand going up Manic's shirt as his lips were inches away from Manic's. "Oooooh, trust me, you don't wanna know what happened to the last couple he caught back there." The panel doors swung open easily - Scourge didn't bother to lock the car, it seemed. He helped Oxide get up into the van so he could fall to one of the crappy bean-bag chairs left in the back. Manic sat against him as Oxide laid down, holding his head in his lap. It should have been a sweet moment. "Hey." The two immediately turned their heads to the open van doors. It was some heckler. Oxide turned his attention towards the fat, late 40 year old fuck who caught them about to make out. "The hell you fuckin' faggots doin'? You suckin' each others cocks? Thats what faggots do, right? Fuck buttfuckers...." He cussed out, spitting on almost every word. Oxide got up and pushed him away, then began to kick him in the head. The guy begged for Oxide to stop. Eventually, he did, and watched the man cry from being beaten down. "I got beaten up by a faggot..." He said inbetween sobs over and over. "Watch out, maybe I'll fuck you next time~" He chuckled, getting back into the van and locking the door this time. "My hero~" Manic said with the most sarcasm he could muster. He was grateful, truly, but he just had to work in some sass somewhere. He watched Oxide waddle back towards the beanbag. "But he got it wrong. He got beat up by a DRUNK faggot." "Hahahaha! Aahahahaha! Yah!" Oxide laughed his ass off, plopping on top of Manic before sloppily and drunkenly making out with him, his tongue slipping against Manics tongue. Manic was half expecting Scourge to come in at any point just to say something sassy, but he didn't. He did pop in to grab some cigarettes, but neither of them noticed, and he didn't ruin the mood for them. They were just kids being stupid and enjoying themselves, that was pretty much Scourge's whole life. The night would draw on, and the two would keep kissing and flirting stupid statements at each other. Eventually, Scourge's crew was going to need a ride home, but Manic didn't care. Even when some of his friends started piling into the van, they only slowed down and didn't make such a show out of it. NOW was when Scourge decided to wolf whistle and break the mood for fun. Oxide looked up from the wolf whistle, with the perfect 'Are-you-fucking-kidding-me-mate-why-did-you-ruin-the-fucking-moment-you-cunt?' face as he just stared at Scourge for the rest of the ride. "Don't worry about it, dude, he's just being an ass." He leaned over and gave him another smooch on the cheek, this time prepared for the taste of dirt. "Oh, shit, wait, we got a few more guys coming. Get in here!" Scourge waved in the last few people, leaving the van pretty cramped. The last few stragglers were that lynx he always hung out with, that walrus Manic wasn't too fond of, and Jason. Jason and Napalm, in fact. They walked into the van, clearly considering walking back, but Scourge was already off and driving. "So are those guys like...your friends or something?" Jason asked Napalm. "Somewhat yah, we're in a band together...." Napalm replied with. 'We're in a band'. Not, we WERE in a band, he admitted they were still a band together. That was good. Manic felt a little more comfortable with that statement. He waited until he was sure they weren't speaking. "Hey, name's Manic." He piped in with, above the sounds or the rest of Scourge's crew talking and chatting. "Man, sorry, Napes, I had no idea you were coming here, I just came for the drinks. Honest!" He turned towards Jason, careful not to put on too much energy and be annoying. "You wanna get dropped off at a different bar, or something?" "I just wanna get dropped off at my house..." Napalm said, in a very bored and monotone voice. The van came to a screeching halt outside the practice space. Oxide, Napalm and Manic got out. Oxide waved goodbye to the van before it disappeared. "Napalm, I'm really sorry about just like, not treating you right." Manic was blushing heavily and looking away, clearly having trouble finding the humility to apologize. "We've been trying to write some better bass lines, dude. We'll- We'll treat you better, dude." He looked back up at him again. "You want us to look at the sheet music, or-" "Yah sure, gimme the sheet music and I'll take a look at it...." He said. After he was handed the sheet music, he walked off. Oxide and Manic watched as Napalm walked off into the horizon. "So...where were we~?" Oxide asked, wrapping an arm around Manic's waist. "Getting interrupted by Scourge, I think." Manic joked, he only took a short break to unlock the door and let them both in. Manic was a little too tipsy to go too far with Oxide, but he was happy kissing and cuddling his drunken face until they felt like they couldn't stay awake another second. And by the time they woke up, their hangovers were taking over. They didn't drink too much, but a hangover was a hangover, no matter how mild it was. "Ah, man... you're just gonna keep crashing here, ain't you?" Manic said as we went to grab something to drink to get it to stop. He went to turn on something decent- He stopped. It was almost noon on a Saturday. Practice was supposed to start hours before, and there was some kind of loud knocking from the back entrance. "Open up the fucking door, you fucking gays!" Napalm was screaming and shouting from downstairs, wailing on the door, trying to get the hungover boyfriends attention. Oxide slowly walked down stairs and opened the door. "Shut up and get in asshole, Oxi and Manic are hung over...." Oxide said, dragging Napalm into the building. "Wait." Manic almost commanded through his headache. "Dude, you need to stop saying that shit. That's the second time now, dude, you can't just insult us with that. It just makes it alright for assholes to insult us with that." Napalm didn't care, he just walked over to his bass guitar. "I practised those basslines, and tweaked some as well, they're pretty good to be honest." he said with a faint smile. He plugged his guitar in and tuned up. "Really, dude, I'm serious. Don't ever call me a cock sucker again." But Manic didn't call of practice or act like a diva after that. He just grabbed his sticks and walked towards his drums, as ready as he'd be to get some practice done. It was an interesting challenge to work the almost jazzy lines into such a harsh sound. Sure, notes needed to change here and there and guitar suffered a bit to make it work, but the sounds started to come together through the sound. They tried their best to focus on getting some kind of lyrics to fit, to make anything fit. "Aaaaugh!" Manic groaned in frustration. "We've been doing this all wrong, we need some rhythm guitar to make it- Nah, Oxid's gotta play the main melody, the whole point- Ugh." Another sigh. This was harder than they thought it would be. "I think Jason can play guitar..." Napalm piped in with his own comment. "He can?" Oxide asked, looking away from the fretboard and at Napalm. "Yah, you want me to go get him? I know where he lives, has his own amp and everything...." Napalm said, putting down his guitar. "Jason? That's the same guy you were out with last night, right?" Manic scratched his head. "Like, sure, head down if you want. I think I gotta do some maintenance on my drums, anyways. I think the snare's too loose." "Alright." Napalm walked out, returning 2 hours later. "He lives on the other side of the city, in a much more rural area...." Napalm said. Jason walked in, amp and guitar in hand. "Oh, dude, you should've told us! We could've gotten, like, Scourge or Oxide's parents or something to drive him over!" Manic said. "Uh... Yeah, we're looking for some kinda rhythm guitar part. You think you can give it a go?" "Yah sure, you got the tab?" Jason asked, plugging in his guitar into the amplifier. "And how many songs do you guys have anyways?" Jason asked. "11 finished ones, with a couple that we're still working on...." Oxide replied Manic was finished with maintenance on his drums, and everyone else was plugged in and tuned. Yeah, a fourth member could help the band come together, make a fuller sound. Bands clearly didn't have four members just for the hell of it. They were ready. Napalm and Jason shared a look, before Manic started them off on their unfinished number. Jason seemed to be able to play his parts pretty well, even though this was his first time playing any of them. They played through all of their songs, usually on the 1st or 2nd run through, only one song had to be stopped more than twice, and that was due to a cymbal falling over each time, not because of Jason. "Jason's pretty good." Oxide said. "He lives in a rural area filled with rednecks and homophobic fucks, this is the only thing he can really do." Napalm said. His playing had a distinct sound to it, perfect for rhythm roles. "Dude, you're really good!" Manic said after making sure his cymbals were set up and hopefully not going to fall again. "You're got a really good sound. Uh- I mean, you think you'll be able to keep driving out here? Hell, we need a fourth member." He turned to face the other two. "What're you guys thinking?" "I can walk out here, I don't mind...." Jason seemed to be a very laid back dude. "When's our next show?" He asked, looking at the three. "Uh... It should be next Thursday, right? So like, we've got five days to get a set down." Manic put his drum sticks down on the snare. "IF you think you can handle that, we can totally keep meeting up!" He gave a mischievous grin. "You up for the challenge?" "Yah sure...." Jason seemed bored, well not bored, but just kind of a little too calm. Five days later and the band was onstage, along with Jason. Some of the school kids came by again, after putting about 300 flyers all over the school and city. "Hey everyone, this guy right here, yah his name is Jason....I don't know his full name...." Oxide laughed. "1 2 3 4!" Oxide counted them all in. And just as they'd promised to, Napalm had a more prominent role this time around. It was strange to have more of a groove compared to the other punk bands playing that night, but it just meant they were distinct. They sounded good, they knew that. And now that they had a fourth band member, their sound was starting to fill out more and more. In fact, Jason helped their band with more than just sound. He was chill enough that he could stop Napalm and Manic from getting angry at one another for those first few rehearsals, it helped considerably. He was even willing to stand closer to the front of the stage and take some of the gobbing that normally would have hit Napalm. They definitely got along well. But most importantly for their performance, his playing was fantastic for his age, and filled out their sound considerably. He might not have been the first person Manic would have gone to, but damn if he wasn't happy with the result. The audience gobbed, the audience pogo'd, the audience cheered, it was awesome. After the set was done, Oxide and his band packed up so the next band, Chelsea, could play next. "No, really, dude, I think you were even better on stage than you were at practice!" If Manic had recordings of their practice and their show, he wouldn't have heard too much of a different. But the thrill of showing off their new sound magnified Jason's music even more in his mind. He turned towards Napalm now, still pointing casually at Jason. "Have you guys played songs with each other before? Your styles mesh really well." "Once, but not for long...." Napalm said, putting the bass amp into the van. "Hey, thanks for constantly driving us out here Scourge." Oxide thanked the green hunk. Scourge gleamed back, taking a moment to realize what Oxide had said.

"Wait, 're you tricking me into being a roadie?!" Manic just spun around and gave Scourge that silly, sassy smile he would always give him. Scourge pushed his hair back, and put on that evil, toothy grin. "You're lucky your music's too good to pass up... So what, am I some grunt or whatever?" "No, you're the BEST grunt," Manic teased right back. He broke his smarm to laugh genuinely and pat Scourge on the shoulder. "But yeah, dude, you've been awesome. Thanks a ton." "I wasn't calling you a roadie mate...." Oxide laughed a little. "Can we go to that bar again and maybe get shit faced some more?" Oxide asked. "They ain't half as cheap any other night. You sure about that?" Scourge said. "Kinda overpriced, too." "They're letting us in, we can't really complain," Manic said. The moment Manic finished helping them load the van, he ran around to the passenger side door. "Come on, y'all, get in!" The band nodded, getting into the back. Oxide looked over at Manic, before going up and wrapping both arms around him. He was tired, so he felt like cuddling a little. He made sure not to let himself and Manic get too heated, he didn't wanna piss off Napalm again. Napalm seemed a tad more comfortable with this, at least he knew what was going to happen. 'Comfortable' was a relative term. Scourge's driving was still insane, and Manic was clearly still about the thrill. There was only so comfortable one could be in a car hurtling through the streets with little regard for absolutely anything. But it seemed like Jason's efforts to get Manic and Napalm to stop being bitchy with each other was working. He did seem about as comfortable as someone could get in this situation. By the time the van screeched to a halt in front of the bar, far too little time had passed for as far as they went. "Alright, so are we just ordering a round of something to celebrate or what?" "I wanna get fucking shit faced." Oxide smirked. "I also know a guy that can sell us some pot if anyone wants to smoke." Oxide said before stumbling out of the van, That seemed to brighten Napalm's spirits as he got out of the van along with Jason. Scourge was clearly into the idea. Manic wasn't so much, but he didn't say anything. The group walked right into the bar, the doorman once again not caring who he was letting in. This wasn't the most reputable bar, it seemed. "Alright, get us like, four of those coke and whiskey drink things, and like, one normal drink for blue boy over there," Manic said to the bartender, indicating towards Napalm. Even if they weren't fighting, they still played their stupid games teasing each other. "Get me the strongest stuff in this bar...." Napalm said. "Same here...." Jason added. Everyone looked at them like they were insane, the bartender shrugged and pulled out a bottle and 2 shot glasses. While the sat down and waited for their drinks, Scourge ruffled Oxide's hair in a way that would've been condescending, but Scourge was always messing with him. "You sure you can handle that? If you black out here, we're leaving you here." He threatened hollowly. "Shut up, Scourge." Manic fired back. "We're leaving him outside, the bartender shouldn't have to drag him out!" "I'm not getting the strong stuff, Napalm and Jason are....." Oxide said, looking at Scourge. Oxide's whisky and cola got place in front of him. He filled up the pint glass and chugged it down. "I wasn't asking about the strong stuff," Scourge added as he filled his own glass. A simple round of drinks to celebrate a show gone well. It would have been a fun but somewhat mundane celebration. And then Napalm and Jason got their drinks. Napalm and Jason filled up their shot glasses and downed the first shot, then the second, then the third, then the fourth, it wasn't until the 6th that they were really actually totally absolutely no-doubt-about-it shitfaced. "Holy shit, you guys seriously- Are we gonna have to drag you to the van, or something?" Manic joked. But as they stumbled around in their chairs and seemed to laugh at nothing, Manic was starting to think they would actually have to do that. When Napalm tumbled out of the barstool, Scourge just laughed. Manic would have gotten up to help, but given his grin, he didn't seem to mind having fallen. How much alcohol were in those shots, anyways? "Oh yah, forgot to tell you guys, that stuff is about 75% pure alcohol...." The bartender said. Oxide lost it, laughing his ass off. He then nabbed the bottle and took a swig from it, and it hit him hard. "Holy shit....." Oxide said, putting the bottle down before falling out of his chair, he already did have 2 pints of whisky and cola. Scourge faced Manic, laughing wildly. "Whaddya say, think he's drunk enough?" Scourge said, stopping his laughter for just long enough to speak. Manic was already out of his stool, helping Oxide get back to his feet. "You think you can walk, or do I have to carry you?" Manic joked, looping one of Oxide's arms around his shoulder to stand him up. "I can walk." He said, paying the bartender as he grabbed the whiskey, the coke and the really strong stuff to go while the rest of the gang helped Napalm and Jason to their feet as well. Napalm and Jason waddled over to the car, having taken the effects of the alcohol stronger than Oxide did. It seemed like Oxide was much more used to drinking than they were. The two eventually slumped and stumbled their way into the back of the car with plenty of assistant, falling down next to one another and still laughing. Before Scourge started the car, Manic leaned over to look at Oxide sitting next to him. "Guess we've got a full band now. You wanna do this after every show?" "Sure~" Napalm said. He wrapped an arm around Jason, who wrapped an arm around Napalm. The alcohol seemed to be having an affect on the both of them as they made prolonged eye contact for quite a while before pulling each other into a kiss. Manic immediately put a finger in front of Scourge's mouth to stop him for ruining the moment for the two. Were they honestly gay for each other? Hell, would they even remember this tomorrow? He leaned over and put his own arm around Oxide as the van pulled away, Scourge watching the less inebriated two talk. "Whaddya say, dude? A whole punk band of faggots sound good to you, too?" "Hell yah, we're here, we're queer, get used to it." Oxide said. "That sounds like a perfect thing to put into a show or movie....." Oxide added, who went to kiss Manic, putting a hand on his leg. Scourge didn't even bother ruining the moment this time. It was one thing to piss off two people who were making out, but they were just kissing and being drunk and stupid. Maybe he was a little jealous, but he wasn't entirely evil. Just mostly. As the van violently flew through the streets, Manic pulled away from the kiss for long enough to talk. "Well, what're we waiting for? We've got tons of music we're working on, let's see how gay we can make it before someone kills us." Another kiss. "Actually, let's wait 'til tomorrow~"

#oxidethehedgehog #Show's Over #Strong Language #There's A Melody Playing

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mkkusi1990 · 4 years

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Arise we are the one

Title: Arise, we are the one.

Theme: We must strive after God in the position we are in.

Purpose: To edify the faith.

The topic for this Bible study is Arise, we are the one. No matter who we are, God has need of us. The passage is taking from 1 Samuel 16:1-23.

Arne and Peder decide to go ice fishing. They head out, find a nice spot, cut a hole in the ice, and stick in their poles. Suddenly, a loud voice booms from above, “THERE ARE NO FISH HERE!!!” Arne and Peder look around, look at each other, and look up, and they don’t see anyone.“I suppose we’d better move then,” says Peder. They get up and find another spot on the ice, cut a hole, and stick in their poles with great hopes of fresh Walleye. Once again, the voice booms from above, “THERE ARE NO FISH HERE!!!”

They look around, look at each other, then look up. Again, they don’t see anyone. “We best find another spot,” says Arne. So, they gather up their equipment, choose another promising spot on the ice, cut a hole, and stick in their poles. Once again, the loud voice booms from above, “THERE ARE NO FISH HERE!!!” They look around, look at each other, then look up, again seeing no one. Peder calls out, “God in Heaven, is that you?”

The voice responds, “NO! THIS IS THE SKATING RINK MANAGER! THERE ARE NO FISH HERE!!!”

Let us set some context to the passage. Saul was rejected as king, and Samuel was deemed to go and find another king who he had to anoint. Samuel was told to stop mourning over Saul and find the next king.

This is so true of us. Sometimes we mourn based off of what God has done in the past that isn’t there anymore, so much so that we don’t see the future that God has in store for us. We can be blinded by nostalgia for the things of the past, for the people of the past. But sometimes God has to remove people out of our past, because they do not belong to our future. God is taking us to a place where everyone does not belong. We should not take it for granted, but know that God is doing a work and wonder in our lives.

Samuel arrives at Jesse’s house. And Jesse brings out his oldest son. Samuel is impressed by the oldest son’s stature, so much so that he thinks that God will work the same way he did with Saul. God works in different ways with us, but each way is always majestic. But God tells him that this young man is not the one who he has chosen to be king. God tells Samuel that he looks at the heart while man looks at the outward appearance.

This is so true of us. We tend to look at the outward appearance of things, and think that it is a composite analysis of the whole. If we are impressed, we think we should go after it, but if we are unimpressed, we think that we should toss it aside. Unfortunately, this is our loss, because God oftentimes uses the unimpressive. Like when God used the 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish to feed the multitude. Or when God used the colt to have Jesus ride on it to Jerusalem.

Samuel had rejected all of Jesse’s sons. After all of the sons had failed to be King, Samuel had asked Jesse if this was all of his sons. Jesse should have brought David out from the start, but he let him tend the sheep. And he said it to that effect, to Samuel that there was David, but he was out tending the sheep. He does not mention his name, but David is almost like an afterthought. As if being the youngest was a disqualifier for him becoming King. As if his tending the sheep proved himself unworthy even in his father’s eyes. Jesse should have brought out all of his sons. Think of the privilege that Samuel was giving to Jesse, the opportunity to be the father of a king.

Jesse’s words were lukewarm. This was not this is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. This sentiment was more like, yeah I got a son, but. That but is telling. It is an acknowledgement that he is just there, at least in Jesse’s eyes. Almost like he doesn’t count and you shouldn’t bring him up. But to God, we are more than just there. We are the appointed people who God has set up so that we can do the work of the kingdom. We are after God, not an afterthought. God will always acknowledge us as worthy when we stand in front of him. Even when people are lukewarm towards us, God is always excited for us and about us.

This is similar to when Jesus was going into Jerusalem, and said that they should tell the owner that the master had need of the colt. The Lord has need of us, no matter what position we find ourselves in. The Lord has need of us, to go to the divine position that God has in store of us.

Before David grew up to be a man after God’s own heart he was a boy who sought after the Lord. This is vital because if we want to grow in the things of God, we must seek God with our whole heart.

He keeps the sheep. Almost as if that is a disqualifier. But this was a qualifier because David was obedient. When David was told to take care of the sheep, he did. David protected those sheep with his life. As he was telling Saul, when a lion would threaten the sheep he would kill it. When a bear would threaten the sheep he would kill it as well.

We will not sit down until he comes. God will not rest until there is breakthrough. His mighty right hand is there with us in spirit and in truth. People will not rest until you come to their presence, because they know what you bring, and they know your value. Also we should not rest until God comes to us. We should be preoccupied with the work of the kingdom so that God can say Well done thou good and faithful servant.

Listen to the words of Jacob, I will not let you go unless you bless me. The blessing is on its way! It may be by touch or by oil, but it is coming. And when it comes, we should be ready.

There was something in David that caused Samuel to rise up and say to him, You are chosen. A quality given by God, that was found lacking in his seven brothers but abundant in him. Something that was so powerful that Samuel said, we will not rest until he comes, even as he was rejected by his father. David was not rejected by God. In fact, he was the one who God chose all along. We are the ones who God has chosen so that people cannot wait for us to arrive. We must arise because we are the one. We are the one who God has chosen to do the miraculous. We must not hide from our responsibility, but stand tall knowing that God has chosen us because he has deemed us to be worthy.

Pastor Paul had been advised by his doctor to lose 30 pounds or risk serious health consequences. The good pastor took his new diet seriously, even changing his driving route to the church building to avoid his favorite bakery. One morning, however, he arrived for Bible study carrying a gigantic devil’s food cake. The class chuckled and chided him, but the good pastor’s smile remained cherubic.

“This is a very special cake,” he explained. “I accidentally drove by the bakery this morning and there in the window were a host of goodies. I felt this was no accident, so I prayed, ‘Lord, if you want me to have one of those delicious cakes, let me have a parking place directly in front of the bakery.’ And sure enough,” he continued, “the eighth time around the block, there it was!”

David took God as inspiration for everything he did. The Bible says to Train up a child in the way he should go so that when he is old he will not depart from it. He was a shepherd. During this time he would have had a lot of downtime, so that he could work on his harp playing. During this time it is believed that he composed Psalms 23. He talks about the Lord being a shepherd and David would know about this because he was a shepherd. David was talking about the Lord being a prime shepherd, a real example. He strived to be a man after God’s own heart

The anointing that we have inside of us will cause people to rise up and acknowledge the God that is in us. It will cause people to bless us on behalf of our God. Whether we know it or not people are watching us and evaluating us. We must set a shining example for people so that they know we serve a living God.We are the God-given solution to somebody else’s problem. We are the God-ordained answer to somebody’s prayer. The God that lives inside of us can content with the devils and situations that are tormenting other

people. The God that lives in us will arise, and situations will be confronted and put to rest.

David was anointed, but he still remained at home. He was anointed, but he was still a shepherd at his dad’s house. Nothing had changed from the day to day, other than there was outward confirmation that David was special. In that meantime the Spirit of God took control of David. Now he is indwelt with the Holy Spirit. And as the Holy Spirit entered David, it left Saul.

And Saul was afflicted by demons which drove him to madness. A man came up to David and said that I have seen a man of Jesse’s household.

David used what was already in his hand to great effect to help Saul. God is a master at using what is already in your hand. He told Moses to use his rod to part the Red Sea and to show Pharoah who was God. Samson used the jawbone of a donkey to devastating effect against the Philistines. God put into David the gift of music, so that he could help Saul.

The Spirit of the Lord that was with David could contest with the devils that were tormenting Saul because David was now anointed in everything he did, including playing music. It was a battle those demons were destined to lose, because David served the Most High.

When we serve the Most High, we can be assured of the victory. We will not be beaten like the sons of Sceva, but we will raise our heads and our voices in unison to command the Devil to leave. The Bible says that the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but are mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds.So through Christ, we can overcome anything.

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