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woundworship · 2 months

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what do all of ur tags mean? :)

hi! sorry it took me so long to answer this. unfortunately, i suck

most of them are quotes or lyrics and most of them refer to concepts and motifs im obsessed with. i intend on having a tag for each of my fav characters and maybe someday i will, but i literally only have one for abigail hobbs. lmao. here they are:

and all the fears you hold so dear - my abigail tag. its from duvet, by bôa, and idk... it just suits her, i guess.

your feelings and mine are all holy - lesbian tag. what can i say? im a lesbian and to me, lesbian love IS holy. its from another bôa song, twilight.

at seventeen i started to starve myself - girlhood tag! i dont really know how to explain my choice for this tag, it just... fits. women starving themselves noth literally and metaphorically i guess? anyway. hunger by fatm.

if you could only see the beast you made of me - a tag for fathers. i will not be taking comment or speculation regarding my relationship with my father or my psychological state at the moment, thank you. howl is one of my favorite fatm songs, and i do have a lot of those.

you'll be sorry that you messed with me - this isnt really a religion tag; its more of a christianity tag. i am a pagan and actually very very religious, i just hate christianity. and god. its a lyric from florence's girls against god, a song that makes me cry if i think about the lyrics too much.

do i look moderate to you? - my tag for love. romantic love, that is. in an obsessed freak way. its the last of my tags thats a florence lyric, and this one is from moderation (another favorite).

someday you will ache like i ache - finally, a hole lyric! the first of well. a lot to come. this is my trauma tag, because i am a loser, and its from doll parts, because its a great song.

dog bait - also from doll parts, this is my werewolf tag

i fit right in your perfect skin - my tag for everything medical <3 i love that lyric and... yeah. medical shit Does fit right into your perfect skin. anyway, thats from reasons to be beautiful

was she asking for it? - just my deer tag. its from asking for it, and... i dont know, sometimes a girl is just feeling a little bit like a deer for once in her life ok

traditional inherited predispositional - runs in the family by amanda palmer. this one is for family stuff and its very much on the nose, just like all my other tags.

to carry on through cartilage and fluid - my last song lyric tag, from desert song by mcr. its just my death tag :)

just love me and eat - i love this quote so fucking much i got it tattooed on my chest last year. anyway, its from bones and all, and its the tag i use for romantic cannibalism (bc Yes, it IS important enough to be separated from the romance and the cannibalism tag, ok?)

to be eaten raw - started as my cannibalism tag, today its a catch all for cannibalism, gore and meat. is it me telling you its supposed to be eaten raw? is it musing about how it must be to be eaten raw? eh, i dont know. its not really that important though is it

thats most of them. the rest are self explanatory, but i do tag a few posts with 🧟 when i want them to go to my brother's tag (though mostly i just send them anything i want him to see)

not sure youre even gonna see this now thats been what, 6 months? but i hope your curiosity is sated <333

#asks #anon

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mikeyddie · 3 months

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Unsteady

Tom and Tord get upset and nervous at just the thought of each other. With Tord back in Norway all Tom can do is spiral, getting upset with himself over not being sure if he even hates Tord. While he wants to rip him apart, he also wants to pull him into an embrace. It's all too much to think about. Tord feels pathetic for being in love with Tom and eventually can't take the pain of the distance anymore. So he seeks out a trip to the UK.

two ; arrival

One month later.

Tord, Paul and Patryck sat in the airport lobby on uncomfortable metal chairs, waiting for their flight to be called. Tord's leg bounced anxiously as he scrolled through his spotify playlists, trying to find something to listen to. Paul and Patryck chat excitedly about their plans for their wedding reception. They've been planning the wedding for a couple weeks now, a date hadn't been chosen yet though.

Paul glanced over at Tord, noticing how freaked out he looked.

"It's not to late to cancel your ticket," he voiced.

It took Tord a moment to process what he said, eventually shaking his head "I'm doing this, Paul."

Paul sighed and returned to his conversation with Patryck, not paying Tord any more mind.

Tord landed on a playlist finally and hit play, sinking into his seat as Twilight by bôa began playing in his earbuds. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the lyrics to distract himself from thinking further about what could go wrong in London. His brows furrowed.

And Twilight gives me

An inner sanctity

And you're feeling

And you're hungry for her

And you don't understand it

But you know you haven't planned it

He found himself applying the lyrics to his feelings toward Tom. He shivered, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. Tord was honestly terrified to see Tom again. After he had his panic attack over him stalking his profile, Tom only continued to view every new post Tord made. He thought about it more, than took his phone out of his pocket.

And you reach out to touch me

But I am in the twilight

Your feelings and mine are all holy but

You know and I know it's untrue because

When day dawns, you're there lying with me

Tord found his heart beating quickly as he continued to listen, now unable to think of anything other than Tom. He ripped his earbuds out by the cord and placed a hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall faster than he expected.

"Tord?" Patryck sounded, interrupting what Paul was in the middle of saying.

Paul turned and saw Tord trying desperately to calm himself down. Feeling bad, and now a little worried, he rubbed Tord's shoulder a bit.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," said Tord with a snarl, pushing Paul's hand off of him.

Paul gave a pitied look and glanced back at Patryck.

"Just don't freak out on the plane," he spoke.

Tord rolled his eyes, looking back down at his phone. He skipped to a different song and put one earbud back in, switching over to socials. He clicked on the notification section and scrolled through his profile views until he found Tom's account again. He tapped on this time. Tom's profile picture was Tommee bear with a blue background, and his profile banner was a black and white checkered pattern. His most recent post was from only a few hours ago. It was him and Edd at an ice cream shop, and in the back Matt was face first in a cup of chocolate ice cream. Tord chuckled to himself. Then he slipped. He tapped the like button. His immediate reaction was to take back the little heart but he knew that wouldn't fix it. He held his breath for a moment.

"Flight 1-A, Oslo to London, is now boarding!" a woman shouted over the loud speaker.

Tord sighed and paused the song he was listening to, putting his phone in his pocket and rolling up the earbuds. He would fix this once he was on the plane. He took hold of his suitcase and waiting for Paul and Patryck to join him.

"Maybe if you didn't listen to sad romance music this would be a little easier," Patryck joked with a small smile.

"Maybe," Tord replied, chuckling.

They passed through security and eventually made their way to the middle of the plane, taking their seats. Tord had the window thankfully.

He turned his phone back on but left his earbuds in his carry on, figuring music would make this feel more dramatic. He pulled up Tom's account again and hit the DMs button. Then he paused. Tom probably wouldn't notice the like, right? He always had his phone on silent as far as Tord was aware. If Tom never saw it and then got a message from Tord about it, it would make things so much worse. He sighed and exited the app, opening some mobile game to think about something else. Once everyone had boarded the plane took off and Tord's anxiety returned. He felt uneasy and nauseous as the plane lifted, gripping the arm of his seat tightly. Patryck gave him an encouraging look like a mother to her scared son. It did help a little. After about a minute passed and they were up in the air and it was smooth sailing. Tord lifted his sleeve to check his watch. 11:24am. Only two more hours.

*******************************************

Edd drops a piece of bacon into the pan, quickly drawing his hand back to avoid the splash of grease.

"How many strips do you two want?" he calls out from the kitchen.

Matt and Tom sit at the couch, invested in the car crash the news in currently reporting. Matt because he feels bad, and Tom because he could swear he's seen the guy before. After a few more shouts from Edd without a response, he walks into the living room.

"Guys,"

Tom and Matt turn to look at him.

"How much bacon? How many eggs?" he asks.

They give their respective answers and Edd returns to the kitchen. Tom wonders if Matt is really paying attention to the TV or if it's just noise for him. That way he doesn't have to put energy into thinking. He can relate to that honestly. A couple minutes of boredom pass and Edd calls everyone to the kitchen.

"Here, extra crispy," Edd chuckles as he gives Tom his plate.

The bacon is burnt. Tom rolls his eyes with a smile. "Just how I like it,"

Matt joins them and they all dig in to breakfast. Matt was scrolling was on his phone when he sees a post from norski__.

"Hey guys look! Tord posted!" He exclaimed, turning his phone to show the other two.

It was a photo of Tord in the snow with his dog. One that Tom had already seen. He inhaled sharply and looked down, stuffing his face with bacon so he can't respond. He shouldn't be this worked up over a picture. Edd looked Tom up and down, not saying anything, then looked back at Matt.

"Good for him." he said lowly.

Matt faltered but after a moment just went back to his phone, tapping on the profile so he could follow Tord.

"Huh. His status says 'finally in a plane that isn't on the way to war LOL'. Wonder what that means," Matt shrugs.

Edd pauses. Why would Tord be in a plane right now? He wouldn't be coming here would he? No, he wouldn't go that far. Not again. If Eddie was him he certainly wouldn't. He shakes his head, takes another bite of his food, and gently takes Matt's phone to set it down on the table.

"Let's just enjoy breakfast without our cellphones." he suggests, more to not bring up Tord again then to actually enjoy breakfast.

*******************************************

Paul and Patryck fell asleep pretty quickly, tired from having to get up early on their off days. Tord, still wide awake, wasn't happy about the flight only being two hours long. He hoped he would have more time to come to terms with the fact that he can't go back on this anymore, but nope. He took a deep breath. He'll be fine. The guys probably won't kill him.

After a while Tord isn't thinking much about the guys anymore and is just listening to music. Watching the clouds pass and the sun move. He wished he had brought anything to do on the plane ride other than his phone.

"We're almost there," Paul said.

"Oh- wait what?" Tord pulled his sleeve and checked his watch. 1:54pm.

It felt like only ten minutes had passed and they were already in London. Tord starts to shake. He amps up the volume of the song playing to try and distract himself but it doesn't work. After a few more minutes of him anxiously clenching and unclenching his fists, the plane begins to descend slowly to the ground. They're officially in London. They leave the plane and retrieve they're belongings from the airport, now standing outside where the rental cars and taxis are.

"Alright, should we get a taxi or-?" Paul questions.

"Let's rent a car," Patryck points at a small Nissan Sentra.

Tord follows them quietly to the car and helps the two put their luggage in the trunk. As soon as he's in the car he feels sick. What are the guys gonna do when they see him? Are they gonna hurt him? Maybe Tom, but would Edd? Matt? Probably not, right? They're good people. But is he?

"Let's find a hotel!" Tord blurts.

"Hm?" Patryck glances up at the rearview mirror.

"We should find a hotel to settle at before we go to the guys place. That way we have somewhere to stay already set up." reasoned Tord.

Honestly he just isn't ready yet.

"That's a good idea," Paul chimed.

Patryck made a U-turn and drove to the nearest hotel. He decided to just run everyone's things in and get a room, then come back out. This was not helpful to Tord but it gave him a little more time at least.

"We don't have to go to their house-" Paul began.

"No! We do! I need to tell them I'm sorry."

"Will an apology really fix it?"

"Like you have the right to be on their side. Remember when you texted me it was you guys or them? Not helpful, Paul!" Tord crossed his arms and huffed like a child.

While Paul did feel bad about what happened, he was following direct orders. It made it kind of hard for him to see where Tord was coming from.

After a few minutes, Patryck returned to the car and they began the actual drive to Edds house. Tord stopped trying to think about other things since he was about to confront everybody. Now he needed to come up with a nice way to re introduce himself as a new, no longer murderous, man. Well, he wasn't opposed to violence he just didn't want to kill his loved ones or lead an army into war. Tord looked out the window, watching other cars pass and people stroll the sidewalks. London was a nice place if not for the tourists. If only to make his thoughts more dramatic, rain began to fall.

"I should've checked the weather, huh," Patryck sighed. "I left our umbrellas at the hotel."

Paul groaned, falling back into his seat, making it jerk backward into Tord's forehead. Instead of saying anything he just leaned to the side and held his head in his hand, rubbing it gently. He wanted to stay as calm as possible until he was at the door so he didn't chicken out and refuse to leave the car.

Tord looked back at the window as Patryck took a familiar turn. They had arrived.

"Alright Tord," Patryck parked and pulled the keys out of the slot. "No turning back now." He flashed a smile.

Tord rolled his eyes and glanced at the house. It was just as he remembered it. White walls, red roof. The windows curtains were pulled halfway open. He let out a breath and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"You two should wait out here." he said.

"No, sorry." Patryck opened his door and stepped out, followed by Paul.

"Wh-?" Tord did the same.

"This is something I need to do, not you guys."

Paul and Patryck looked between each other.

"The second anything happens we're coming up there." Paul warned.

Tord nodded, then turned. This was it. He slowly approached the brown door and held his hand up. He paused for a second.

"The door won't knock itself," called Paul.

Tord rolled his eyes and pushed himself forward so his hand hit the door. He did it a couple more times, then backed away and waited.

"Hold on, Matt, someone's at the door!" Tord heard someone call.

It sounded like Tom.

His breath hitched and he started to turn around but before he could, the door swung open.

"Hello-"

There he was. His hair curved into spikes, his black eyes tired. He adorned his classic blue hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Torn up converse mostly covered by a pair of baggy jeans. Just as Tord remembered him, Tom.

"Hey," Tord muttered weakly, a trembling smile forming on his face.

He gulped.

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heldflesh · 7 months

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TALES OF O'FRIEL — TAMSIN OLWEN LOVEDAY.

── ( grace van dien. demi woman, she / they. ) recently seen sprawling across beer - soaked oak, hand clasped to ear in fitful whispers and sideway glances, the occasional cicada slipping past lip and taking flight at the whaler: enter TAMSIN OLWEN LOVEDAY O'FRIEL. twenty six years old & a libra, usually observed in gossamer lace, a ghost upon body; soft glow emitting from skin pulled sheer – pulsating veins and a flash of something golden, the teeth of a white rabbit drawn upon shoulders; sorry thumper, and goodby – ; love is a devotion local known within their circle as VULPINE + GNOMIC, a perpetual hum of twilight by bôa on salted mouth. something of the SEPULCHRAL + PESTILENT follows, regardless … something to do with one's very own side - quest, faux prophecies and dangers ahead; tales most befitting miscreants and visitors alike, one and the same – uncaring to lift another finger of their own , perhaps ? strange, what a FAERY can get up to. they’ve been heard waxing lyrical about a dream they had recently, a strange tale of a never - ending dance – how many eternities have we spent here together? – soles long worn to bone and dust; body nothing more but a husk of skin, exoskeletal; entertainment beneath a spider's growing web – but we're here together, aren't we? forever and ever . pay no mind to fanciful star - gazing, though: rather, mind the tangible. focus on bated breath against locks of hair, near - translucent fingers laid across shoulder – voice here, and there, nowhere – everywhere; you want to dive into this lake sooo bad, you want to swim all the way down and wrap around the seagrass and get stu– / ears impossibly long – all the better to hear you with, my dear – tufts of softened white gold, splintering from fine points, lily of the valleys dangling chain-like / and phantom wings in every passed mirror – gambling never a consequence until now; a mother's cruel laughter echoing from every budding flower, every cawing bird, every iron box clawed open in searing desperation . /

... mentioning themes of CONTROLLING MOTHERS, BODY HORROR, DEATH, GRIEF, DEPRESSION, and INSECTS, BUT LIKE GROSS. proceed with care.

with palms held out.

full name — tamsin olwen loveday o'friel.

nickname(s) — tam / tammy, if one despises their life; loveday; love ( friends, if you can call them that, and mother, if you can call her that ); owl face; first name preferred.

date of birth & age — october 4th, 1xxx, physically twenty6.

gender / pronouns — demi woman; she / her and they / them.

sexuality — demiromantic, bisexual.

typing — faery, wings MIA.

occupation — woods - wanderer; ex - dancer; hunter AND gatherer; gambler; front desk at shrike point light.

astrology — libra sun, capricorn moon, taurus ascending.

interests — hallucinogens. old - fashioned gold coins, particularly those dug up from hidden treasure chests. playing serpent. mammatus clouds. a good gamble, or an even better bet. winning. animal fur. warm beds. warm bodies.

aversions — classical dancing. uncalculated risks. lying ( even if desired ). weak constitutions. promises. anyone named "craig", no particular reason. high ledges. her mother. particularly nosy spiders.

next in queue — shadow of a doubt, sonic youth; vanished, crystal castles; pitch the baby, cocteau twins; show me your mind, sunken.

notable features — almost comically long ears; tufted at the ends, mimicking caracals & a constant, soft light emitting from them; evangeline, is that you?

general disposition — calculating to the point of desperate.

last known location — trying to convince tourists to step into faery rings at the campgrounds after being interrogated for twenty minutes about whether they can shrink down to the size of a half - chewed polly pocket and if faeries believe in, like, jesus?

scrying mirror & kindred — melisandre ( game of thrones ), rose dewitt bukater ( titanic ), lux lisbon ( the virgin suicides ), love quinn ( you ), vanessa ives ( penny dreadful ).

what lurks in the past...

were they born, or were they created? fae realm a haze beyond fingertips, limbs extending too long, too narrow; cobwebs sticking to new legs, trembling foul's - burning from inside out. a gleam to everything in view; light bouncing from leaf to leaf, sparkling upon open water; skewed from chest, lance - like. overwhelming - maddening, small eyes watching intently every human who stumbled upon their realm by accident; idiocy at their finest, curious as their bodies collapse into hysterics, never able to behold the beauty of the land before them.

she never cast doubt, a mother who would never allow it; too many eyes to keep sight of, too many eyes to be wary of. days filled of frivolous activity; dance after dance, sun and moon passing in tandem, day and night after day and night. rocketing themselves into the sky, as far as can go, vast, endless - did they have space? if she keeps going - will she be surrounded by nothing but void, but the sky all around her; come crashing down as the pressure compresses her lungs, stops her breath?

what did the other realm have, that they didn't? curiosity - not doubt - leads to their first visit - not alone, never allowed, not by mother; three of them at the slightest, pas de trois. it's hideous, it's beautiful - it's devotion; before they were - or have they always been the one and same? captivating, to be in a world not their own; to find vices only a human could have, dishonesty beyond the mirror, kept from wandering eyes and hands, but not cards.

visits become frequent - some secretive, some brash, crawling out of holes formed from bark, emerging from tree's flesh. eras change in a blink of eye - here one day, gone the next; so fickle, their short lives. unexpected friends meeting unexpected demise; but what right, would tamsin have to be sad? what is it - to be sad, melancholic? too much to do, to worry about such trivial things; too many minds susceptible to trickery, flimsy thoughts they hold so carelessly.

until she met them, light scorching eye, features engraved beneath eyelids; an intoxication never so sweet, rivaling nectar from their realm - maybe sweeter, maybe just. devotion a home, suddenly - to her, to them, together; forever, if she could. if they could - possibility just out of sight, just out of frame. but maybe not - somewhere else, where time moves different.

was she a fool? blinded by love - stricken by it as taut as grief itself; a mother like hers never trusting, never trusted - never trust. in all her wisdom; tamsin could not compare the centuries laid upon her mother's back. foolish. foolish. foolish - she never meant the harm; never meant the death sentence, lips of lover grazing fruit. lifting her into their arms - entwined in one another, feet barely dusting floor. spinning together in a silent waltz as time rolls on bye; until their skin is nothing more but dust molded husk, tamsin unable to look away, unable to pull apart; terror - laced ichor, enough for eternity.

doesn't remember leaving the realm - leaving them, there - by their lonesome; an exhibit to be watched, a reminder to be wrought. everything's new; modern, hum of technology reverberating skull, shaking spine. twenty years laid to rest; an unwavering form sitting atop rock in the woods, gaze unmoving; statuette, before bone creaks back into existence.

only to be tricked again; a mockery, lost to their own hysteria, their own grief - desperation seeping pores, clutching at narrowed frame. the dead should stay dead; even in their realm - law remains enact, balance must never waver. greed has no moral to stand upon; deals are made, gambles set - hands shaken, blinding light and sharp sulfur and a piercing scream as wing pulls self from body. and nothing. no body to raise from ground; still in the fae realm, still dancing; only spirit, only confused; memories scattered - no remnants of tamsin, or the years lost to them. nothing at all. husk meets husk; fool meets fool.

those of the realm of fae: family to friends, to those who think tamsin a fool for losing their heart so easily, for letting it slide from her palms into another; for upsetting her mother, older than most.

lost lover, loving no more: nothing more but a ghost; a clean slate free from burden and memory. it hurts to look at them - hurts to acknowledge; so tamsin doesn't - cowardly, after all sacrificed.

...comes to light in present...

it's not better now; but it's better than nothing; existing bares easier on the soul, when distracted; kept amused, kept pushing limits - a child who learns best from example. she can't rot any longer, insects a collection inside her, now; coughed up on occasion, fluttering away like nothing - mother's watchful servants, ever - gazing, ever - curious. fucking nosy. better than the fae realm - better than reminders, devotion's growing modernity cloaking old memories.

tamsin's - hard to crack; penchant for gambling, seen tucked into far - off booths, old coins shuffling between fingers, betraying the air the exudes her, collaborating with the far off, dull look in her eyes. severity no longer reaches - slapped away with a dismissive hand and a cold, humorless laugh that twists maniacal at a pin's drop. can never deny a game - or the hunt, puzzles not the only stimulant solace is found in.

everyone's useless except the shrike family, and the knowledge their library keeps; front desk an excuse to scour over maps and crumbling pages - they've got to be somewhere, don't they? somewhere, anywhere; tamsin's pried open their fair share of iron boxes, trying to find the wings she bet away; lost, given up. sacrificed. the deal a bust - why should tamsin be the only one to suffer? fingerprints never quite there - most certainly no longer, wrapped in bandages with every clasp of iron.

never a liar - forever desperate, visitors of devotion, south of tene, are subjected to tamsin's harrowing tales of heartbreak and sacrifice, no storyteller but just a girl trying to find what is hers, rightfully; years and years of scavenger hunt, level impossible; treasure maps drawn and discarded and drawn again. a quest - she insists. it's just a quest. all will be well - just heed my word, do my bidding. help me fly.

the one whose heart shall be ripped fro - : most probably a witch, or another faerie; the one tamsin lost to, who won their gamble - the game they play. probably still alive, ever - mocking, tamsin staring into their windows nightly.

devotion visitors, none the wiser: it's a tale almost as old as time; the full truth never revealed, only enough sad details to guilt a stranger into potentially perilous tasks.

...and carries into the future.

how long can she dance this dance? make fool out of fool, reap the consequence of never listening to those wiser than her - almost childish, tamsin's resolution, determination. naïve. pathetic. too many eyes on her - waiting for her eventual fall, one she does not rise from; how do you kill a faerie?

but perhaps there's an alternative route; sky regaining vibrancy, leaves returning from their dulled hues - no more bodies, no more deaths; grieving a silenced lamb, a quest to complete on her own. be her own savior, heal her own wounds.

maybe tamsin can lock the king into a checkmate; play the game better - win, for once.

enough is ENOUGH! we're sick of it!: this isn't a soap opera, get a grip! one way or another, even if the end result is less desirable. enemies, friends of their mother, those wronged by tamsin after years of trickery and mischief.

a family found: eventual friends, insecurities and trust issues and fears aside; people who care, people who tamsin will not gamble the lives of. probably.

#devotion.intro #body horror tw #death #grief #depression tw #insects tw

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seekdevotion · 7 months

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* 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 : good to see you 'round these devo parts, fairuz ibrahim sabry + tamsin olwen loveday o'friel. please submit your account within twenty - four hours. tamino + grace van dien are now taken !

── ( tamino. genderqueer, he/they. ) recently seen trapezing across a lone stage, spotlights dancing off beaded sweat -- audience a crowd of one, half-asleep or otherwise dead, spirit rising from still body in a chant; encore, encore! bravo! at verve: enter FAIRUZ IBRAHIM SABRY. twenty six years old & a scorpio, usually observed in tits out; slivers of chainmail barely concealing loving shark-bites alongside rib, fishnet your only true, loyal companion -- starfish spurs against heeled boots; aquamarine could never ; fairuz is a devotion visitor known within their circle as MADCAP + GRANDIOSE, a perpetual hum of knife prty by deftones on salted mouth. something of the HUBRISTIC + CAVALIER follows, regardless … something to do with an incessant need to entertain and please, for oneself and for others, one complete theatrical act , perhaps ? strange, what a SIREN can get up to. they’ve been heard waxing lyrical about a dream they had recently, a strange tale of lightning against stark red sea; no tell of morning from night -- only fools dare to cross the threshold; scaled body wrapped around splintering wood, ichor flowing from lip and chest -- harpoon a stake upon self . pay no mind to fanciful star - gazing, though: rather, mind the tangible. focus on defense being a performance in itself, accusatory points towards a faceless jury and judge in the checkout line of a mini mart -- i'm innocent, your honor! hear my pleas, hark my -- cue one dragged away by smoothed heels, threats brimming lips / insatiable hunger and the habit of playing with ones food -- thoughts bubbling mid-air, tom and jerry sequence of cat and mouse, mallet to head -- cuckoos circling; almost as satisfying as the kill / and bone an accessory -- so sustainable chic! -- fish spine piercing cartilage, ribs lining lobe -- cuffs of mysterious vertebrae, drilled and filed and -- . / committed to legend by james, 24, they/them, est. n/a.

── ( grace van dien. demi woman, she/they. ) recently seen sprawling across beer - soaked oak, hand clasped to ear in fitful whispers and sideway glances, the occasional cicada slipping past lip and taking flight at the whaler: enter TAMSIN OLWEN LOVEDAY O'FRIEL. twenty six years old & a libra, usually observed in gossamer lace, a ghost upon body; soft glow emitting from skin pulled sheer -- pulsating veins and a flash of something golden, the teeth of a white rabbit drawn upon shoulders; sorry thumper, and goodby -- ; love is a devotion local known within their circle as VULPINE + GNOMIC, a perpetual hum of twilight by bôa on salted mouth. something of the SEPULCHRAL + PESTILENT follows, regardless … something to do with one's very own side - quest, faux prophecies and dangers ahead; tales most befitting miscreants and visitors alike, one and the same -- uncaring to lift another finger of their own , perhaps ? strange, what a FAERY can get up to. they’ve been heard waxing lyrical about a dream they had recently, a strange tale of a never - ending dance -- how many eternities have we spent here together? -- soles long worn to bone and dust; body nothing more but a husk of skin, exoskeletal; entertainment beneath a spider's growing web -- but we're here together, aren't we? forever and ever . pay no mind to fanciful star - gazing, though: rather, mind the tangible. focus on bated breath against locks of hair, near - translucent fingers laid across shoulder -- voice here, and there, nowhere -- everywhere; you want to dive into this lake sooo bad, you want to swim all the way down and wrap around the seagrass and get stu-- / ears impossibly long -- all the better to hear you with, my dear -- tufts of softened white gold, splintering from fine points, lily of the valleys dangling chain-like / and phantom wings in every passed mirror -- gambling never a consequence until now; a mother's cruel laughter echoing from every budding flower, every cawing bird, every iron box clawed open in searing desperation . / committed to legend by james, 24, they/them, est. n/a.

#accepted.#semi appless rp #new rp #appless rp #town rp #spn rp #mumu rp #UMMMMMMM ABSOLUTELY FCKING DIVINE???

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curatedbyhatto · 2 years

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bôa - duvet

Hello! Thanks for being here once again, I am totally not editing this post after it was created because I got delayed, again.

This Sunday's song is called 'duvet', by the English band 'bôa', and you can of course check its lyric video on hatto's dumpster YouTube channel. Let's get into it!

About the band

bôa is an English band from London, formed 1993 by drummer Ed Herten (who was later replaced by Lee Sullivan), keyboardist Paul Turrell, and Steve Rodgers on guitar and vocals.

Then came Alex Caird on bass guitar, and afterwards bôa's iconic voice, Jasmine Rodgers (Steve's younger sister), who started just singing the chorus of the song 'Fran', and eventually became the lead singer of the group. Ben Henderson was then recruited to play saxophone (and then moved to guitar)

They started big, playing on the iconic Glastonbury Festival in 1995, just 2 years after the band was born.

Though bôa was originally a funk band, it rapidly grew into an indie rock band, and became really good at it. They released their very first album 'The Race of a Thousand Camels' in 1998. (which is not even on Spotify)

Am I eventually gonna take a whole month for this album?

Again, a lot happened with the band, and I'm just not gonna take the whole Wikipedia page and transcribe it here. The link will be on the sources so that you can check it. Jumping to the present:

On Januart 5th 2017, the band announced the death of former keyboard player Paul Turrell that had happened one day prior.

in 2022, bôa is still very active, as it seems from their Facebook page posts, like this one. Hopefully we will have new music soon!

About the song

'duvet' is the 3rd song from bôa's first album 'The Race of a Thousand Camels' (1998), but it also appeared on 'Twilight' (1st track, 2001), Tall Snake EP (1st track, 1999) among other compilations.

You may know the song from one of these two sources:

The opening song for the anime 'Serial Experiments Lain', here's a clip.

From TikTok, as the solo of the song became a popular sound. Here's also a couple clips. Here's also a TikTok video she's so cute omfg.

Something cool I noticed when watching the music video is that the solo is half guitar, half synth (using the pitch bend knob). I thought it was only guitar, turns out is both instruments. I also represented this on my lyric video.

Meaning

In Jasmine words': "it’s about expectation and hope and maybe, at the time, about relying on other people."

I personally checked the lyrics and a couple articles, and I can totally see what Jasmine says, a song that talks about relationships, and how sometimes we hurt others but cannot quite understand where we wronged.

"And you don't seem to understand, a shame you seemed an honest man"

but it also proposes that the guy may be aware of the pain he's caused. She can see further into him, and is able to see the truth behind the lies he said; or the façade, the decoy that he presented as his true self

"And you don't seem the lying kind, a shame that I can read your mind"

But she still asks for help, maybe from him (?) as she feels like she's falling into the void, hurt.

"I am falling, I am failing, I am drowning, help me to breathe"

Finally

Make sure to check for more bôa's music, particularly their debut 1998 album and also Jasmine's music in solitaire, and her website. Finally, duvet's remix by ScummV, pretty crazy if you ask me.

Sources (except the ones already linked on text) 'bôa' on Wikipedia. 'serial experiments lain' on Wikipedia 'tall snake EP' on Wikipedia 'Jasmine Rodgers of Boa Reflects on “Duvet” 20 Years After Lain’s Premiere' an article on 'Beneath the Tangles' 'bôa's facebook page'

Gallery

bôa's original lineup, Jasmine in the center.

cover of the debut album 'The Race of a Thousand Camels'

bôa performing live

#music #alt #alternative #alt rock #alt music #alternative rock #curated by hatto: the music #anime #indie #indie rock #boa #serial experiments lain

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radramblog · 3 years

Text

And you don’t seem to understand

A shame, you seemed an honest man.

Duvet, by bôa (the British band, not BoA, the Korean pop artist) was my song of the year in 2020. According to Spotify, at least.

Most people who have heard Duvet know it as the opening to the cult classic anime Serial Experiments Lain. Like many things about Lain, the opening is iconic, matching Duvet’s acoustic meandering and haunting vocals with the mysterious and a e s t h e t i c visuals to create something unique that looks nothing like most anime openings these days. The average anime opening is energetic, introduces all the characters, has shenanigans and funny animation, and Lain is out here just giving nothing away. She’s on the TV and then walking down the street and then time stops and huh????

As a show, Lain is esoteric and confusing and doesn’t answer nearly as many questions as it sets up but manages to maintain interest through these mysteries somehow, through a combination of a slow build and sheer fuckery. Lain herself being a surprisingly endearing protagonist helps a lot; as a fish out of water with the computer systems the series centres around, her curiosity helps drive much of the early developments and worldbuilding. While the largest mysteries about the show surround her personally, by the time the audience is exposed to them they are likely comfortable enough with her to feel as unsettled by the implications as is intended. As comfortable as anything in the show could be, anyway- the show’s limited budget was used masterfully to create a stark, harsh atmosphere, with scenes where you’d expect that one anime cicada loop instead carrying the drone of power lines, and backgrounds painted alternately with sheer white and an excess of shadow, making the city feel as unnatural as the events taking place in it.

The show is also incredibly predictive about the nature of the internet and what online culture would look like for an anime released in the late 90s- the themes of online cliquing and personae are more relevant than ever in an age of social media and its role in modern politics.

Serial Experiments Lain happens to be available for free on funimation’s website in some countries (and Youtube where it isn’t), so there’s no excuse not to watch it! Unless its not your thing, which I could understand. Frustratingly, the Youtube version doesn’t appear to have the opening or ending attached, let alone the little bit before the opening (haha look it up its so great), so I wasn’t exposed to Duvet for much longer than I would have liked in retrospect. Because this song and album fuck so hard.

I suppose part of having a less than ideal budget meant using a song from an obscure alternative band than commissioning a new one for the opening, but I’m certainly not complaining about the result. Following the anime’s release, the album Duvet was sourced from, The Race of a Thousand Camels, would end up being reorganised and rereleased internationally as Twilight with a few bonus tracks on the end (I’m still hunting down a CD of either of them, but they had a pretty low run and such are hard as hell to get).

I’m not sure what the best comparison would be to get an idea of what Twilight sounds like- spotify’s recommended artists appear largely to be other composers associated with anime soundtracks (as well as the artist behind the VA-11 Hall-A soundtrack, you go mate) so that hasn’t been much help. If I’m honest, its not too out of the ordinary- while a very very solid album, I don’t think it strays too far from what would be considered late 90s British alt-rock, which makes sense considering that’s where they originate from. The Cranberries but less folky and less Irish? I dunno.

Particular songs on the list do resonate more with me than others. Perhaps it is a little presumptuous to say that Fool is relatable, as my experience does not quite line up to that of the lyrics, but there are connections I can draw there so it works pretty well on me. Bonus tracks Drinking and Little Miss both do it for me (wow, really?) with Little Miss’s unexpected aggression and emotion underlying the abusiveness of the second person protagonist of the lyrics and that little unexpected breakdown at the end reminds me of some of my other favourite tunes (Twelve Foot Ninja, of all bands, comes to mind). Drinking, on the other hand, mirrors Little Miss as an acoustic closer that could be from the titular woman’s perspective, mirroring the lyrical relationship between the two. It’s a great way to finish an album with as much emotion as Twilight does, and considering the latter half of The Race of a Thousand Camels was its weaker one, a good addition to the record overall.

I don’t really have much more to add, other than go consume these underrated pieces of media. It’s free content mother fucker (edit: was listening to the Lain soundtrack while writing this and its fuckin wiiild. Theme of Lain? Hella. Theme of a Hilly Road? Is that a didge mate?)

#ramble #anime #music #serial experiments lain #boa #is the title pretentious? yes #my blog my rules

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