#mags gets more focus because mags is the character i project onto

[pintsizemama]

Snuggles and Squirting

Summary: Maxwell Lord finds you, Maggie Stark, to be sound asleep when you are supposed to be working. You don’t want to wake up yet, so he suggests you nap together. You reluctantly agree. You wake a few hours later, and Max has another proposal for you…

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Named Female Reader—Maggie Stark (Tony Stark’s little sister), Maxwell Lord x You

Fandom: MCU & Wonder Woman 1984 (modern AU)

Rating: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4865

Warnings: language, pining, hate sex…kinda?, talk of controlling people’s thoughts/actions, brief mention of torture/experimentation and nightmares, PiV sex, kind of dubcon—Maggie is sleepy while Max kisses her neck—but she consents to everything, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, pussy slap, possessive/competitive Max, praise kink, squirting, manipulative Max…I feel like Maxwell Lord should come with his own warning for this entire series…let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: So…this is a character that has lived in my head since I saw the first Thor movie in theaters. She has grown as each new movie/TV show has come out. I will post random stories about her—out of chronological order—as I’m inspired. I will list them chronologically in the master list though. ENJOY!!!

— I reworked this to be Reader POV…Maggie Stark is an OC, but I wanted the POV to be more immersive, so here we go. After this installment, I will try to keep the descriptions and such to a minimum, but they will slide in there from time to time. I hope most readers can still enjoy it and imagine themselves as Maggie.

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“Maggie,” a deep voice murmured gently above you. “Wake up, beautiful girl.” You groaned and rolled over. You looked up and saw a shadowy figure, your vision blurry with sleep. You blinked a couple times until he came into focus.

“Ugh,” you groaned. “What the hell do you want, Lord? I’m fucking sleeping.”

“It’s already past ten,” Maxwell Lord told you. “We were supposed to get started at nine.” Margaret Stark—more commonly called Maggie, or Mags by your big brother—grumbled angrily. Maxwell Lord was a grade A pain in your ass. His multi billion dollar company, Lord Enterprises, was branching out into technology, and he was partnering with Stark Industries on a huge new venture. You, the head of R & D—and Tony’s little sister—were tasked with heading up the project with Mr. Lord himself.

Normally, this would not bother you. You were used to working with people outside of your field…your intelligence was off the charts—rivaled only by the likes of your brother and Shuri. You were well acquainted with slowing things down to better fit the pace of those not accustomed to your expertise. That wasn’t the issue with Maxwell.

No, Maxwell Lord had decided that you would be his next sexual conquest…and you had zero interest in making that happen. It wasn’t because you found him unattractive. Quite the opposite really. You thought he was sexy as hell. The moment you had met him and looked into his impossibly warm, dark brown eyes, you had wanted to rip his clothes off and swallow his dick.

He was tall with broad shoulders you wanted to hold onto for dear life while he pounded you into oblivion. He had dark, thick hair. It looked so soft and inviting, your fingers flexed with the need to bury themselves in the luscious locks. When the sun hit it just right, you could see gold highlights underneath the deep chocolate brown, making his hair look like rich, molten honey.

Maxwell was blessed with the most unique aquiline nose, that normally should have detracted from his beauty, but somehow, it enhanced it. From his full, pouty lips, came a voice that haunted you. It was deep and erotic and made your pussy tremble. He was clean shaven—always clean shaven—and hardly ever a hair out of place. Always impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit—Maxwell Lord was the definition of perfection…but then he opened his mouth and ruined it.

He was arrogant, charismatic, larger than life. Ruthless and cunning. You weren’t sure, but you sensed he put on a persona, a mask, he wore for the world. And it grated on your nerves. He was so goddamn sure of himself all the time—a cocky asshole who always got what he wanted—and he had immediately begun hitting on you. You politely declined his invitation to dinner and ‘dessert’ the first time. By the tenth time you had lost all semblance of professionalism and tact.

You didn’t have the patience to deal with his bullshit, so the polite, respectful demeanor you portrayed for your public image crashed and burned. You regularly told him to fuck off. It just seemed to encourage him more.

Max had an ability. He liked to call it the ‘power of persuasion’. Basically, he could make anyone do anything he wanted. People didn’t even notice when he did it. It was like his mind just nudged a thought into someone else’s. They believed it was their own thought, their own free will, but in reality, it was all Maxwell. It was one of the reasons he was so successful.

For some reason Maxwell’s powers did not work on you. You were the only person he had ever come across who he could not persuade to do what he wanted. Hell, he’d even managed to get Thor—a literal god—to bend to his will. You intrigued him because he had no power over you. You assumed it had something to do with the torture and experimentation you had been subjected to years ago when you were captured by Thanos. Honestly, you didn’t care enough to look into it. You were just glad you were immune to the handsome CEO.

“We have a lot of work to do today,” Maxwell said, breaking you from your thoughts. You pulled the covers tighter around your waist. You had fallen asleep in a tight spaghetti strap tank and just your panties.

“I know,” you scowled. “Fuck, I just never get to sleep. Leave me alone for a couple more hours, alright?” Ever since your capture, nightmares—horrific fucking nightmares—plagued you every night. You barely got more than a couple hours of restless sleep at a time—often going days without sleep—so when you did manage to sleep, everyone knew to leave you alone. Apparently Maxwell had not gotten that memo yet.

“We’re running on a deadline here,” Max pushed once more. When he looked into your tired eyes, he took pity on you. “I’ll make you a deal. You can sleep a little longer…if you let me join you.”

“What?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You want to sleep with me? Like actually sleep?” Maxwell shrugged.

“Yeah,” he answered simply. You cocked an eyebrow at him, distrust clearly written across your face. “No funny business,” Max insisted. “Just let me hold you while we sleep.”

“Fine,” you relented with a frustrated sigh. “Whatever buys me a couple more hours of sleep.” You were too tired to argue with him. Besides, what harm could it do? If he stepped out of line, you would punch him in his stupidly handsome face and send him on his way. You scooted over in the bed to make room for Maxwell. He shrugged off his suit jacket and removed his tie. You had mocked him about not owning anything other than suits—suggesting he even slept in his suit. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, followed by his undershirt. When you noticed him unzipping his pants, you sat up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you asked.

“Getting comfortable,” he replied. “Contrary to what you believe, I don’t sleep in my suits…or any clothes for that matter.”

“Well, you’re sure as shit not sleeping naked with me in the bed,” you warned him. Max chuckled.

“I was planning on keeping my underwear on,” he assured you. “Just want to be comfortable.” He toed off his shoes and removed his socks. He slipped his pants off and stood before you in his tight boxer briefs. His words were meant to calm you, but as his body was revealed, you felt anything but calm. He was gorgeous…mouthwatering, actually. All toned, golden muscle. His physique was less obvious than other men, but he was incredibly strong. His muscles were not flashy and in your face. They rippled just below the surface of his tanned skin. Every movement highlighted the strength hidden beneath. He was way too fit for a CEO. Your eyes widened slightly as your gaze traveled lower. If the size of the bulge between his legs was anything to go off of, you knew where his cockiness came from.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. Your last two boyfriends had been a super soldier and a fucking god. They had been more muscular—or in Loki’s case, more defined—than Maxwell…but for some reason, his body was sending yours into overdrive.

You lay down when he pulled the covers aside and slid in behind you. He snuggled up behind you, spooning you deliciously. His legs slotted behind yours, your ass nestled against his groin. You felt his slightly soft tummy press against your lower back and had to suppress a sigh of contentment. Loki and Bucky had never really been ones to cuddle…and their sharp, hard muscles weren’t very comfortable to snuggle against most of the time. Maxwell was strong, but soft too. He wrapped his arms around you, one underneath and the other over, his forearm settling under your breasts. He intertwined your fingers and gently stroked his thumb along your hand.

“Relax, beautiful girl,” he murmured as he placed a kiss where your shoulder and neck meet. “Get some rest. You deserve it.” He burrowed his face into your hair, his breath warm against the back of your neck. His scent—ginger and lemon, with a hint of cinnamon—was inviting and so relaxing. He was so warm and soft, and it had been so damn long since you’d been held like this. You felt yourself sinking into him, and then, blissfully, into sleep.

Maxwell was in heaven. You were finally in his arms. You were moaning and writhing in pleasure as he plunged his long, thick cock into your smoldering, wet heat.

“Mmm, Max,” you moaned. “You feel so amazing, baby.”

“You’re the one who feels amazing, beautiful,” he panted against your neck. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long…can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

“I’ve wanted you too,” you whimpered, “so fucking much.” Max picked up the pace, snapping his hips rapidly against you. You ran your hands through his sweat dampened hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. He licked the salty sheen from your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I can’t believe this is finally happening. You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby. You fit me so perfectly. Shit, your pussy was made for me.”

“It’s yours, Max, always yours,” you moaned, tossing your head back against the pillows and exposing your neck.

“You gonna come again for me, baby girl?” Max whispered against your lips. “Wanna feel you fall apart around my cock, gorgeous girl.”

“Yes,” you whispered back, before licking hot and deep into his mouth. “Don’t stop, Max…fuck, don’t stop. I’m so close.” He gripped your hips tight and pistoned into you.

“Rub your clit for me, princess,” Max groaned. You immediately did as you were told. “Good girl…good fucking girl.”

“Max,” you whined, pleasure taking over, “Max…I’m gonna—I’m cumm—” You threw your head back and keened as your orgasm washed over you. Your cunt clenched so tightly Max knew he wouldn’t be far behind…just a couple more thrusts and he would lose himself…just...a…few…more—Suddenly Max jerked awake and was pulled from his incredible dream.

He stifled a groan as he realized none of it was real. He had been having more and more erotic dreams about the young Miss Stark. It left him frustrated…and usually with the need for clean sheets. Based off the throbbing of his still hard dick, he knew he wouldn’t have a mess to clean up this time…he would just take care of himself in the shower. Just then he became aware of his surroundings. More clearly, the very warm, barely clothed woman in his arms. He remembered now where he was—napping with you. He glanced at the time and saw you had both been asleep for a few hours. He didn’t want to move. You felt so fucking good against him. So soft and warm and so goddamn sexy. Max was infatuated with you. He felt like a fucking teenager the way he pined after you. You were the only thing in his life he couldn’t have…and it drove him insane.

You were gorgeous. There was no denying it. You had your father’s (and brother’s) hair—dark, thick and wavy, reaching several inches past your shoulders. Your eyes were all your mother though, bright blue and framed by thick gorgeous lashes. Eyes that were so very expressive. Your pert little nose and full lips were beautiful and complimented your face well.

You were small, the top your head just coming to his shoulder. You were softer than the other women associated with the Avengers. Max knew you worked out and trained with them from time to time—though he overheard that had slowed down considerably since the Winter Soldier broke your heart. He spent a lot of time in the gym, so you avoided going in there. Still, your physique was mouthwatering—full, perky breasts, a soft, flat stomach and trim waist, wide hips, thick toned thighs…and an ass that haunted his dreams. Round and firm and definitely two handfuls.

Most of the women around the compound were thin or athletic body types. While Maxwell found nothing wrong with those bodies—in fact most of the women he slept with fit into those categories—your softer, curvier form did something to him.

He thought about you all the time…the way you smelled—like cherry blossoms and roses—how your eyes crinkled when you laughed, how tough you were and took no shit from any of the powerful men in your life, your off the charts intelligence, your never ending kindness despite all you’d been through in your life. He had never felt this way about anyone before, and it made him feel unsettled. He knew if he could just fuck you, get you out of his system, he could go back to normal.

You wiggled your ass slightly, and it pushed the plush globes right up against his hard on. He grasped your hip to keep you from moving against him again. He needed to move. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it just yet though. You snuggled closer to him and hugged his arm that was across your chest closer to your body. You sighed contentedly. You reminded him of a sleepy little kitten. He kissed just behind your ear.

“Time to wake up, kitten,” he murmured against your ear.

“Mmm,” you hummed groggily. Max began trailing kisses along your neck.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he whispered against your pulse point. “You’ve slept long enough.” You snuggled closer, still half asleep. Max sucked a mark on your neck, delirious from the taste of your skin. You moaned at the feeling of his lips on your neck. His fingers flexed against your hip.

“Max?” you asked sleepily.

“I’m right here, baby,” he murmured against your neck.

“What are you doing?” you muttered.

“You just taste so good,” he answered. “Couldn’t help myself.” You were still too comfortable to move or protest. His lips felt too good to stop just yet…even if those lips were attached to Maxwell Lord.

“Ok,” you sighed. Max’s lips paused just above your neck.

“Ok?” He parroted back.

“Yeah,” you murmured, nuzzling into his hand.

“I like you when you’re sleepy, sweet girl,” Max said quietly, bringing his plump lips back to your neck. “You’re much more agreeable.” You just hummed in agreement, still too content to care at the moment. You hadn’t slept this well in a long time…you couldn’t remember the last time you had slept this hard or this deep. You had an unsettling inkling that it had everything to do with the man wrapped around you…so you were fine to stay put for a few minutes.

“You feel nice,” you whispered. Max’s heart fluttered at your admission.

“So do you,” he replied. He slowly brought his hand up to cup your breast, his fingers grazing your nipple. You gasped and slightly arched into him. He gently bit down where your shoulder and neck meet as he squeezed your breast and ground his hardened cock into your ass.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby girl,” he moaned against your neck. The escalation of his desire snapped you out of your daze.

“We need to stop,” you told him. He immediately dropped his hands from your body and pulled his mouth back. Despite his brash demeanor, Maxwell Lord would always stop when a woman asked him too. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to talk her out of it…after all, he was a man who was used to getting what he wanted.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered once more. You turned over onto your back and Max propped up on one elbow. You looked beautiful when you first woke up.

“What kind of deal?” you asked cautiously. Max smirked.

“Let me devour that pretty pussy,” he continued, “and if you’re not satisfied, if it’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, I’ll leave you alone. I will never bother you again…it will be strictly professional from here on out.” You cocked an eyebrow at him, a look of discernment on your beautiful face. “What do you have to lose? Either you get me out of your hair for good…or you get the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Win win.” You rolled your eyes and Max grinned. You worried your lip as you contemplated his offer. It was tempting. You could possibly get rid of this megalomaniac once and for all. There was no way he could be the best you’ve ever had. Not with your past partners. Plus it had been a really long time since anyone had touched you intimately. And he was so fucking hot…

“Fine,” you agreed with a groan. Max’s eyes lit up. “But if you suck at this, I’m kicking your ass out. Immediately. No second chances here, Lord.”

“I won’t need one,” Max said cockily.

“You think so?” you challenged. “You do know I fucked Loki right? The god with the silver tongue? And trust me, it’s not just lies that that tongue is excellent with.” Max’s brow furrowed into a scowl. “And my last boyfriend was a goddamn super soldier. That man had stamina, if you know what I mean.” Max growled as he lurched over you, pressing himself between your thighs.

“Are you trying to piss me off, baby girl?” He snarled, thrusting his cock against your core. “You think I can’t compete with those two?” He pulled your panties from your body and spread your thighs wide, pressing your knees to your chest—putting you fully on display for him. He hissed in pleasure when he saw your gorgeous wet pussy. “It’s going to be embarrassing for them when a mere man makes you come harder than they ever could.”

“You talk a big game,” you said with more bravado than you felt, considering you were spread open at the moment, “let’s see you back it up.”

“Lay back and relax, princess,” Max said, laying himself between your thighs. He stared at you for several, long moments. You started to squirm under his gaze. “Hold still.” He nudged your thighs further apart with his broad shoulders and buried his nose in your folds. He inhaled deeply and moaned.

“You smell incredible, baby girl,” he murmured. You were shocked…and incredibly turned on. No one had ever inhaled your essence before. It felt so…personal. You frowned realizing Max was already better at this than you thought he was going to be. He licked a broad, wet stripe up the length of your slit. His tongue stopped once it reached the top and he laved at your clit, licking it like it was the most delicious ice cream cone. He brought the tight little bundle between his full lips and sucked gently. You moaned and thrust your hips up towards his face. He grasped your hips and held you down.

“I said, hold still,” he growled. His voice was low and commanding, and you couldn’t help but listen. “Good girl.” You shivered at his words. You definitely had a praise kink. You wanted to be a good girl for him. Max smirked when he saw your pussy glisten from his words.

“You like that, gorgeous girl?” He purred. He ran his index finger gently up your folds, gathering your slick. “You like being my good girl?” You nodded. “Uh uh,” Max chided. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Max,” you answered, rolling her eyes. You squealed as Max’s hand came down on your pussy, causing a sharp spike of pleasure to shoot down your spine. That was new…

“Don’t be a brat,” he warned. You nodded. Max shot you a look. Words…right. He wanted you to use your words.

“I’ll be good,” you promised. Max grinned before diving back in. And dive in he did. He ate your pussy like it was a fucking five course meal. You were floored. No one had ever shown this much attention to your pussy before. Sure, other guys got down there, and most of them knew what to do…hell some of them were fucking spectacular at it…but none of them seemed to enjoy it this much. He barely came up for air, and the sounds he was making, and the way he thrust his hips into the bed…he was enjoying this just as much as you were. When you realized this, you felt white hot pleasure course through you. You threw your head back on the pillow and moaned loudly.

“Fuck,” you whimpered. Max smiled against your mound, glad to know you were enjoying yourself. He stiffened his tongue and plunged it into your tight channel, his thumb coming up to rub your clit. Your hands came up to grab his hair. It was so soft and thick. You tugged on the beautiful locks and smiled when he moaned. Your cunt clenched around his tongue. He switched, moving his mouth back to your clit, and sliding two fingers inside you.

You felt your orgasm building rapidly. Your breath hitched as Max curled his fingers inside you, his tongue unrelenting on your clit. The pressure built, tightening your stomach muscles. A few more passes, and you were soaring.

“Fuck, Max, I’m gonna—I’m close—shit, right there, ah—Max!” You shouted your pleasure, your thighs shaking and hands gripping his hair tight. Max groaned as your pussy spasmed around his fingers. You looked gorgeous when you came. When you came down from your high, you were surprised Max was still working you over. You assumed he would stop when you came…but no, if anything, he seemed more determined now.

He flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit as his fingers shifted inside you, searching for something. When you squealed he smiled in triumph.

“Ah…there it is,” he purred. He began running his fingers across that spot. You groaned and shifted your hips. This felt so different. Pleasure, but a pressure you were unfamiliar with. Max kept working the spot deep inside you along with your clit, and you felt another orgasm coming fast. But this time, you felt like something was wrong.

“Max,” you warned. “I don’t know—this feels weird…fuck, what’s happening?” You felt an intense pressure much lower in your belly. You tried to close your legs, but Max pressed them open with his shoulders. “Shit—I think I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck!” Just then the pressure released violently and you came…hard…all over the place. Warm liquid shot out and drenched Max and the bed.

“Yes,” Max groaned. “That’s my good girl…my perfect fucking girl. Knew you could do it, baby. So proud of you.” You whimpered, still dazed from your orgasm, but thrilled to hear his words.

“What happened?” you mewled. Max lifted his face from your drenched pussy to look into your glazed eyes.

“You squirted, baby girl,” Max explained. “You’ve never done that before?” You shook your head. Max’s grin could only be described as shit-eating. He was very pleased with himself. “Well, let’s see if you can do it again.” He lowered his mouth back to your clit and started thrusting his fingers again.

You whined. Your body was wrung out and you were bordering on overstimulation at this point. Max cooed gently to you, trying to calm you down.

“Relax, baby girl,” he said softly. “Just one more. I know you have one more in you. Can you be a good girl for me?” You nodded weakly. Max dove back in, ready to completely wreck you. With how sensitive you were after two orgasms, it didn’t take long to work you back up into a frenzy. You started squirming. He lay his arm across your stomach to hold you in place. He tapped his fingers deep inside you, building up the pressure once more.

“Max,” you whimpered, “it’s too much.”

“You can do this, baby,” he pushed. “Come on, sweet girl, soak me again.” He sped up his fingers and sucked your clit into his mouth.

“Fuck!” you screamed, clenching your thighs tightly around Max’s head. Your whole body seized up as you exploded in ecstasy. Your lower pelvic muscles released and you drenched Max once more. He moaned and drank down your release. You kept coming…and coming…and coming. It just kept rolling through you. You forgot how to breathe. You felt dizzy and your vision went dark. You were seconds away from blacking out.

“Fuck, you taste so goddamn delicious,” he groaned against your inner thigh. He removed his fingers and pulled back slightly to look at you. “Shit…look at that. He swiped his finger through your folds. “You’re pussy is creamy, baby girl.” You slowly came back from whatever the fuck universe that last orgasm had blown you to and looked down to see his fingers coated in your thick white cum.

“I…that’s never happened before,” you said, your voice tinged with embarrassment. Max looked up to see you blushing.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweet girl,” he said gently. “You’re fucking incredible. This is the most amazing pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure to eat.” Your blush deepened at his compliment. Max leaned back down and started lazily licking through your folds. You groaned, exhausted and overstimulated.

“It’s too much, Max,” you whimpered.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I’m just cleaning you up.” He gently licked your release from your pussy and thighs. He sat up when he was done and sucked his fingers clean. “Fuck, you are delicious.” He smiled when he saw how thoroughly fucked out you looked. He crawled up your body and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

You moaned at the taste of yourself on his mouth. He was a damn good kisser…though you shouldn’t have been surprised considering how skilled his tongue had just been on your lower lips. He reluctantly parted from your mouth and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Well?” He asked. “What’s the verdict?” You sighed.

“You were right,” you muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Max said with a smirk. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “You were fucking right, you asshole. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I’ve never come that fucking hard before. Are you happy?”

“Very,” Max said, still grinning. “Are you?”

“I suppose,” you sighed. When he cocked his eyebrow you explained, “I’m happy about the orgasms…just not too thrilled who they came from.” Max barked out a laugh, delighted by your honesty.

“You’ll come around,” Max said confidently. “Now, get up. We have work to do.” He climbed off of the bed and quickly redressed in his suit. He smoothed his hair back, and just like that, he looked perfect once more. Like he hadn’t just destroyed your pussy with his mouth.

“Get dressed,” he reminded you again. “I’ll meet you in the lab.” And with that, he waltzed out of the room, whistling. You groaned and lay back on your pillows, staring at the ceiling. What the fuck had just happened? You still half expected to wake up; that this had all been some crazy fever dream during your nap. You pinched your arm hard. You winced. Yep, not dreaming. Fuck.

So, you really had let Maxwell Lord eat you out. And it had been the best sexual experience of your fucking life. Goddamn it. That smug bastard was never going to let you live this down. And now he’d never give up on trying to fuck you…except, he could have tried. Right then and there. It would have been the perfect opportunity for him to make his move, and you would have let him. So, why didn’t he? You chewed your lip and thought it over. Why didn’t he try? You got up to get ready for the day. You needed to get to work and put this far from your mind.

You didn’t know, but the fact that Max didn’t push beyond your agreement that day would bother you for weeks…and would make you see Max in a whole different light.

Max walked the halls of the Avengers Compound with a new pep in his step. Maggie Stark was even better than he had dreamed. He couldn’t wait to have you again…to have more. He could have pushed it further. He knew that. And you would have said yes. But then you would have been pissed off, and he wouldn’t have the chance to fuck you again.

No, this was much better. He knew you couldn’t resist that kind of pleasure for long. He would back off from you, and you would be ravenous for him. You would seek him out.

It was perfect…he had you exactly where he wanted you.

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Opinion: MAG 187 doesn’t invalidate Helen’s more sympathetic moments

It is possible to interpret the episode as retconning everything the Distortion has ever said and done into a manipulation targeted at Jon, which would undo the character’s complexity and make them revolve entirely around the protagonist. The key for this interpretation seems to lie in the following exchange: 

ARCHIVIST You worked to hurt us and help us, all with the same smile, until we can barely tell one from the other. Keeping us off-balance, constantly second-guessing our own opinions of you. Never quite crossing a line we could never forgive, but never putting yourself on the line either. And when one face finally stopped smiling, you just changed the face.

HELEN Fine. So if that’s all true… why? Why would I do any of that? What’s my actual motive?

ARCHIVIST I don’t think you even have one. It’s just what you are.

But I don’t think most of what was said here is new information.

Let’s go back to season 3. Here’s how the newborn Helen Distortion explains her identity:

HELEN Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST What happened?

HELEN He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me. Lost my way.

In other words, the Distortion’s modus operandi is a long, long game of cat and mouse (see also: MAG 146 Threshold). Michael got sidetracked by his (or Michael Shelley’s) revenge against the Archivist(s) and decided to actually kill the mouse. But it was unnatural for the Distortion, so it shook off the troublesome identity, and Helen was both an instrument to get rid of Michael and a continuation of what was started by him and worked so well.

ARCHIVIST A-are you still going to kill me?

HELEN No. That was Michael’s desire, not mine.

The Distortion doesn’t want to send the Archivist into its corridors. Why would it, when it’s so rewarding to misdirect and mess with him in other ways?

Now, for episode 115.

HELEN I… I’m not… I’m not entirely sure. I’m… having trouble. I don’t think I was meant to be Helen.

ARCHIVIST I’m – I don’t understand.

HELEN Neither do I. Michael was… pulling away. His anger was interfering. I don’t, I don’t think I have a choice but to be Helen. Self is difficult.

ARCHIVIST Michael, he, uh, he, he wasn’t meant to be you either, though, was he?

HELEN No.

There’s an internal conflict between Helen and the Distortion -- just like there was between Michael and the Distortion. I don’t think the new episode invalidates or undoes that. On the contrary: it restated that Michael strayed from the Distortion’s purpose, which means Helen could have done the same.

HELEN Something happened when I became ‘Helen’. She wasn’t right, she wasn’t ready.

ARCHIVIST I don’t…

HELEN Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.

ARCHIVIST You’re not that Helen!

HELEN I just want… I just want to feel better.

Helen was supposed to be a meal that replenished the Distortion’s energy. But it seems that the food was not as fully digested as the Distortion would prefer, and tried to bite back.

ARCHIVIST Wh-what? Why should I believe… a-a-any of this? You’ve told me over and over that you’re… what was the phrase? The ‘throat of delusion’? All of this is –

HELEN I have never told you a lie, Archivist. I wouldn’t dare. I, I just thought you might understand.

ARCHIVIST Uh… How could I possibly…

HELEN We’re both changing, Archivist. I had hoped, that together –

The Distortion has never lied (and now we know why). The Distortion has truly changed. Its new face genuinely wanted Jon’s company, just like the previous face had wanted him dead. But both faces interact with Jon in a way that leaves him confused and upset, because such is their nature.

In MAG 131, Helen insists that her identity is not a mask but a new but inseparable part of herself. As we now know, she is not lying: 

ARCHIVIST

You’re still wearing her face.

HELEN

Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much ‘Helen Richardson’ as you are the ‘Jonathan Sims’ that first joined this Institute. Things change. People change. It happens.

We get a double confirmation that Helen is different from the Distortion’s previous incarnations in MAG 146, in the words of both Helen and her victim:

This wasn’t like before; there was no playfulness here, none of that malicious joy that I had always felt coming off it. Now there was just a cold hunger, a deep anger, as though I had no right to just stand there looking at it. The street was silent, but I could feel it screaming at me to open it.

HELEN (all business) Oh, well; the son, I was pursuing long before I was even Michael. And technically, I didn’t eat the old man. He passed away from terror long before I got a chance to open properly.

ARCHIVIST His son Marcus – he – he was fine when I read his father’s statement two years ago, but now, suddenly, I can’t get through to him.

HELEN No. I imagine not. I decided it was time to finish that game a few months ago.

ARCHIVIST You – Why?

HELEN Not sure. I suppose Helen didn’t have quite the same attachment to him as a project. I’m not quite as much for decades-long campaigns of subtle terror these days.

ARCHIVIST (soft) That’s horrible.

HELEN Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? (pointed) Don’t we, Archivist?

Helen Distortion doesn’t derive joy from terrorizing people for months or years with doors. That’s just food now. Now she gets the same joy from messing with people with the help of her humanlike appearance and personality.

An often-quoted line from MAG 152:

HELEN Even if it were capable of doing so, what possible reason would the Eye have to change how you feel, when it makes no difference to your actions? Helen was like you, at first. She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.

Again, the new episode confirms two things: 1) Helen wasn’t lying. 2) Helen was telling this to Jon to make him doubt his loyalties. And again, this is not new information! She laughs at his misery and confusion very openly!

Episode 157. Jon gets a shocking reminder that Helen is Just Here To Troll:

HELEN Because I have a good enough sense of what’s going on to know that it will be much more fun without my involvement! (begins laughing)

...

ARCHIVIST Just tell me what’s going on. Please.

HELEN (gleefully) Bad things, Archivist. Really bad things.

MAG 164, Helen’s first appearance in s5. There’s so much going on, let’s try to list at least some of it: she congratulates jonmartin on their relationship, immediately tries to play them against each other, cheerfully deflects all blame onto Jon and also Georgie and Melanie, admits to betrayal, announces she wants to be friends “again”, then expresses pity that Jon isn’t hostile to her enough. Absolutely everything she does is about creating relationship chaos.

MAG 166, second encounter with Helen post-Change, and she is delighted to see disagreement between Jon and Martin unprompted by her:

MARTIN Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!

ARCHIVIST (disbelief) Sorry, what?

HELEN (surprised delight) Yes, Martin!

In MAG 177, she moves the focus of ridiculously blatant manipulation and provocation onto Basira, and also doesn’t bother to hide she enjoys scaring her “friends”:

HELEN Not interrupting anything, Am I?

MARTIN Christ, Helen, you scared the life out of me.

HELEN [Insincere] Sorry, darling.

And finally, MAG 183. By now, everyone in the scene is aware that she’s here just to get a rise out of our heroes and metaphorically eat popcorn.

MARTIN Look. Listen, I’m getting really sick of all thi–

ARCHIVIST Leave it, Martin. She’s just trying to get under your skin.

MARTIN Yeah? Well, she’s really good at it!

HELEN Aww. Thanks, sweetie. But to be honest, I’m mainly just here to see which path you choose.

Which brings us to MAG 187. We already know that Helen isn’t Jon and Martin’s “friend” as in “ally” -- she hangs out with them to provoke strong responses and sow chaos. The plot twist is that she’s not just doing it for fun, like a human would -- it is her way of avatar feeding.

The Distortion has always been a trickster. I am glad that they died this way, instead of becoming either an over-the-top villain or a reluctant hero -- before the plot could corner them into becoming one. And as Jon said, the reason Helen had to die was not her trickster nature, but the side she picked on the “Eyepocalipse: keep or cancel?” issue. 

The reveal in 187 does not contradict the information we had before, and so it doesn’t retcon or undo the complexity or character development that the Distortion had. The fact that the Distortion fed on Jon (and others’) reaction to them does not mean that they never had any motivations or thoughts beyond that. Jon says it himself: “keeping us off-balance” is not the Distortion’s motivation, it’s “who they are”, it’s the natural, instinctive way they conduct themselves. We have learned that the Distortion's behavior was Eldritch Trolling instead of Regular Trolling, that's all.

#the magnus archives #tma spoilers #mag 187 #helen distortion #blah blah blah

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #53: Out (7/6/2018)

This is it, boys and girls. The “hiatus”, as we’ve called it for the last 364 days, is finally, finally, finally over... probably. Let’s cover the week that was, and look forward to the new era that could be.

This Week’s TØPics: 

“New” Music Discovery

The Last Message From Dema

The Return of WILD SPECULATION

Major News and Announcements:

On any other week, new music from Tyler Joseph would be the biggest news story. And... well, I mean, I guess it should be, so we’ll cover it first, but it really doesn’t feel like it. That’s really weird, isn’t it?

@ultrawafflehouse shared a unique piece of content with the world in the middle of the week. After a friend of a friend received an old Tyler Joseph mixtape from a local youth pastor trying to prove his street cred to the middle schoolers of suburban Ohio, Ultra discovered that two of the unnamed tracks were pieces of music that had never previously found their way onto the Internet. 

One of the unnamed tracks is a slick instrumental with elements of some of Tyler’s other early works like “Two” and “I Need Something To Kill Me” on full display: i.e., an extremely promising but unfinished arrangement from an extremely talented novice with no training or experience and a dozen better ideas than this that he decided to actually flesh out. Little wonder it, like presumably most of Tyler’s work, never made it to the general public.

The other track, however, actually sounds like a full song. Dubbed “Going Down” due to the phrase’s repetition in the hook, the track fits in perfect with the general No Phun Intended/Self-Titled sound; passionately-sung heart-on-sleeve lyrics supported by a simple piano arrangement with some basic hip-hop elements thrown in. I’ll be real: I was not blown away by this song. The writing in general, particularly on the hook, is low-energy, all over the place, and stretches the metaphors real thin. Tyler’s vocal delivery is at peak teenage whine, and his bars in the sole rap verse seem amateurish and out of breath. 

But I wasn’t expecting to love it- most of Tyler’s stuff pre-Self-Titled, and even some tracks on the first two albums, are clearly made by someone who has no real clue how to do the whole music thing. “Drown” and “Blasphemy” are the only truly great songs from No Phun Intended, and they were both repurposed later down the road when Tyler had a better idea what he was actually doing. I still think Tyler is a genius, but he was not born the songwriter and performer he had become by the time Fueled By Ramen signed him. I still appreciate tracks like these, but more as historical curiosities, stepping stones to what Twenty One Pilots would become with brief flashes of Tyler’s insightful introspection and genuine brilliance.

The biggest news of the week, as with last week’s update, was not new music, but updates from the world of Dema. To start, we got three updates from dmaorg.info on Sunday. The first was a gif of a creepy vulture slowly turning to camera. Not too much to derive from this one. There’s the iconography of vultures, aka the carrion feeders who consume the bodies of the dead left at real-world Towers of Silence. The vulture can be seen to “blink” with its thin transparent eyelid, aligning it with the fifth Closing Eye Lyric: “Nobody dreams when they blink.” This correlation is strengthened by the name of the gif itself: “i”.

The second post, another letter from Clancy, was much more intriguing. The letter contains some great prose, with Clancy describing how the bishops have robbed the denizens of Dema of their dreams using something referred to as “smearing” and pledging to not let them crush his hope. The references to nighttime and light connect it to the sixth Closing Eye Lyric, “remember the morning is when night is dead”. The image title of this update is “e_sr_eve_r.jpg” (”reverse” in reverse), and that’s reflected both the content of the letter and its organization- you can swap the order of the sentences, and it still makes perfect sense. But why this command to reverse? To what end? Hmm....

The answer to that comes in the third update, a simple smattering of yellow marks slipped out of chronological order in the middle of the list the list under the date of the band’s Grammy win. When laid over the Clancy letter, the markings for individual letters again spell out the word “trench”, which connects it to the audio clip from the previous Dema update, while the solid vertical lines highlight the phrase “We are banditos.” When you connect all these dots and reverse that audio, as several people had already discovered previously, it becomes pretty clear that Tyler is singing “We are banditos.” What does that mean? Well, hold your horses, kid, because the circled letters in the message spell out “end”. That looked like it might be it...

Until the gif that originally revealed the Dema site made its way back onto the main website. Many interpreted this to be the fulfillment of the last Closing Eye Lyric, “Now I just sit in silence,” due to the gif ending with the finale of the “Car Radio” music video, and a sign to the Clique to pay attention to the site if they weren’t already.

dmaorg.info finished its mission on Thursday with another rush of content. First, a photo of a vast desert with a single small figure possibly visible on the horizon. The image was simply titled “o_ut.jpg”. Not much else to say; once again, the big reveal was delivered to us by Clancy.

This letter is honestly the best fiction writing and world-building I’ve seen from Tyler yet, good enough to make me wonder if he’s been considering writing a Hunger Games-style YA series if this whole music career thing doesn’t pan out. Clancy lays out his plan to break out of Dema: since it will be impossible to sneak past the huge walls unnoticed, he plans to make a big commotion during the enclave’s biggest holiday, the Annual Assemblage of the Glorified, to distract the “watchers” and permit those from the “other side” to find a way in, then avoid being “smeared” by the bishops until the others can show him the way out. There are tons of great details and turns of phrase (”concrete coffin of a city”) and really cool moments (”They don’t control us” should sound way more cringey than it reads here.) They even snuck in a final hidden message message: following the dotted lines up the same number of rows as there are squares reveals one last “Wake up.”

The biggest takeaway from this letter, though, is how direct it is. It makes reference to it being “a year since the last convocation” and directly says that “by morning, everything will be different.” And, if you still didn’t get the message- *poof*. Within minutes of the Clique posting and dissecting these new posts, dmaorg.info was gone. They pulled the plug. The only evidence of the last few months of theorizing, speculating, and decoding will be on Reddit threads lost to the dust of time, as our thoughts become occupied with a whole different type of Twenty One Pilots content...

WILD SPECULATION:

As of the moment I’m writing this (7/6/18, 1 am PST), the band has not released any new music. I am not bopping to “Jumpsuit” right now. But something is totally happening within the next 12-24 hours. The only question is... what?

Well, I have zero information beyond the registration of the song titles “Nico and the Niners” and “Jumpsuit” and the implication that the songs will relate to this unfolding tale of Clancy and the Bishops of Dema. But I do have some theories/wishes.

First, I don’t think we’ll be getting a whole new album all at once. Twenty One Pilots ain’t Beyonce. They don’t have the clout (yet) for FBR to let them get away with dropping a full project with zero mainstream promo (also, there’s no other registered song titles, so nothing for at least a few weeks). I think that, in following the standard pop music tradition of the last few years, we’ll get two singles dropped on the first day (the aforementioned registered names), with a music video for one to tide us over, then a trickle of songs for two or three months before an album in time for the holidays. I suspect “Jumpsuit” to be the main radio-play single (I’m already picturing a prison break from Dema for the video), while “Nico” serves as the song for the fans that lays out more about this concept.

The thing that excites me most about the whole Dema idea is that, unlike the rather straightforward metaphor of Blurryface, the ARG content we’ve received so far has laid out an entire world populated with multiple named characters and concepts that we aren’t clear on just yet. Because of that, I think we might get quite a few songs (like, hopefully, “Nico”) that focus more on storytelling (and, also hopefully, killer soundscapes) than just affirming the importance of staying alive. I really hope “Nico” is, like, a nine-minute long rock/EDM opera that lays out all the different bishops’ plans and motivations while mashing genres in the classic TØP style. I really want to see Tyler and Josh push themselves artistically, and I think that what we’ve seen so far is really indicating that is the case.

A few more questions (and some speculation): 

What other songs are coming? “Trench”? “Heavy”? “Banditos”? “Wake Up”? “Coconut Sharks: Requiem”? (No clue, can’t wait to find out.)

What will the promo look like? Will the band bother to participate in local radio interviews anymore? (Depends on how early sales go, I think.) Will they do any long-form/in-depth sit downs? (Rooting for Zane Lowe, but also hoping a mag like Rolling Stone that’s willing to put artists in the hot seat puts Tyler on his toes and asks some of the difficult questions.)

What can we expect of tour? (I’m calling amphitheater followed by arena shows, just like with Blurryface and a lot of the bigger FBR acts. Praying for more live musicians and maybe some theatrical stuff with Dema.)

What will the album be called? Dema? Silence? Tower of Silence? Iris [remember that, holy crap]? Blurryface 2: Electric Boogaloo? Hard to say (Probably the first one, let’s be real).

Will it be successful? (Almost definitely not as much as Blurryface. We’ll have to see how hard they focus on the Dema concept or an alternative sound, since radio hates weird.) Will it be good? (Yes. I was unsure for a long time, but I’ve got a really good feeling now. A really, really good feeling.)

Community Spotlight:

This is technically cheating, but I am part of the community, so I’m gonna write about myself today. Forgive me.

Last year, on my 21st birthday, Twenty One Pilots posted a shut eye and some mirrored lyrics on their social media and then, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. I spent my whole twenty-first year of life without ‘em (the irony is not lost on me), which was weird considering how much they had inspired and impacted me throughout high school and college.

I did a lot of stuff when I was 21. I graduated college. I got a new job. I made friends. I lost friends. I got in fights. I learned to let go, but not soon enough to spare someone I cared about from unnecessary heartbreak. I turned corners in my mental health, only to run into new walls. I listened to a ton of music. I grew up.

Today, I turned 22. The irony of the absence of Twenty One Pilots aside, I’m so glad I had the chance to figure out who I was without this band by my side every step of the way. I learned that I could make it. And now I get to have them back while I continue to make it. How sick a birthday gift is that?

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

#twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #dema #hiatus #top weekly update #music

[cnox]

Interview for Skaventhrone issue two. Copies on the way to Hollow Myths* soon!

S: You were recently featured on Never Stop the Madness - Black Metal Radio and had an impressive line-up of releases for the coming months. How has the exposure been?

C: Eve Skaventhrone, thanx much for this chance to further spin our web. Hails to NZ AC DS! We are psyched by the response from the NSTM - BM Radio Special and thankful to have been featured. This was a grand opportunity to get more airplay for our artists and tell a bit of what is to come from Hollow Myths*. We look forward to doing it again this winter.

S: A fellow conspirator has added that your release schedule for the year is quite evenly paced, what makes this different from your previous approach?

C: That may be a bit of misinformation because we will be like a bat out of hell yet again. Our upcoming releases have been stirring in the pot for some time, so we have had many moons to plot and plan. There will be unexpected surprises as we don’t tend to spell things out nor give away too much. So, please do keep watch. We have also put a new CD-R series into action in which we will be offering even more outsider music. And introducing new artists and their first works. We have a grip of sick releases in our trick bag already for this venture.

S: To talk about the name 'Hollow Myths'; A cynical person could read this as being lacking in substance, what are your feelings towards this?

C: When we say hollow, we mean a dark valley in the forest or hole in an old tree. Our workings should be considered as mythology or folklore that seeps and creeps out of the fog and cries out from the blackest of nights. We bring forth new legends and modern myths. “The Hollow Myth” is also a book I wrote long ago. We have shared some of this story and will be telling this tale over the years to come. The introduction came with the Bestiary Vol. One Compilation and Issue 1 of our zine is first in a series of character guides. Our antics are always subversive, so it should be obvious there is a hidden double meaning to our moniker, one-part existentialism and one-part absurdism.

S: Going back to releases; Your output last year was quite prolific and featured a wide gamut within the established DS scene; What do you look for in an artist?

C: Thank you for the fine words. We shall do the same this time around and then some. For us, it must be unique, sad and true. Unabashed, sinister and the synthesizer is key. We like to work with artists whom are free, patient and have a grasp on the big picture. Loyalty and trust is something we also look for in our creative working relationships.

S: Similarly, each of these releases has a very personalized approach. Is this something you find important to differentiate from other labels or distros?

C: We appreciate you taking notice and set out to do our own thing indeed. The music of our artists is so very personal, as it is to us, so we try and convey this with the presentation. The artwork, packaging and magical extras are all part of the experience we try to give. Sight, sound, smell and even touch. From the vintage cassettes, cases, paper, fabric and tie, to the natural accoutrements, candles, incense and wood - we want our releases to be something to have, hold and cherish. Nearly everything we create has been made by hand. There is art to hang on your wall, jewellery and badges to wear, talismans to take with you about your travels. In this, the music and ideas carry on with the you even when not listening but still in one’s heart and mind's eye.

S: I understand that yourself and your partner also have a project together. It's been described as a cutting of recording errors and artefacts from analog or older technologies.

C: Cristahel and I are Rowen. We make mythical electronic music and use analogue equipment. We record live with synths, drum machines, percussion as well as capture field recordings. We plug in, press record and play, do some mixing and then share these aural documents on our Plexus Station the evening of. We were lucky to have been picked up by Personnel Records, a division of the Black Metal label, Seedstock just after a couple of songs. They released our first demo “Ashen Spirit” on pro-tape and we are now composing a new album. An east coast wing of shows are in the talks for this summer and we are aiming on touring Europa this fall.

S: There seems to be a shift in the scene from those maintaining the traditional nostalgic approach to Dungeon Synth and those moving towards what could be considered a 'Ritual Ambience' in some cases with a stronger focus on minimalism and natural sounds; What are your thoughts to this?

C: We see it in three ways: originators, innovators and imitators. We lean more towards innovation. With experimentation comes inspiration and for us is the most interesting. Of course, we hail the founding fathers and tradition is to be respected. But, we want to hear something different and new. The ritual and ambient approach draws from magic which can manifest at the same time be happenstance. This is pure and exciting.

S: It certainly is, and it's great to see you're encouraging and creating a space for artists to do so.

C: We surely try.

S: In our search through the more historic artists on Hollow Myths, such as Apeiron, Depressive Silence, and Arthur, we get a feeling you've probably had an earlier connection with these composers. When did you first get involved with this area of the black metal underground, and these projects? And how did these interactions eventually lead to the creation of Hollow Myths?

C: In the 80's I was steeped in Heavy Metal music, having gone to countless stadium concerts for legendary acts such as Dio, W.A.S.P., etc., later to shows; Cro-Mags, Suicidal Tendencies, I could ramble on. In the early 90’s I went to a boarding school in the woods of New Hampshire and was cut off from T.V. and the goings on of counter culture. So, we made our own. Being up there, I sort of missed out on the first wave of Black Metal and The X-Files. In turn we took drugs, listened to a lot of Black Sabbath and N.W.O.B.H.M. and spent all our time in the trees. Though already a fan of Celtic Frost and much early Death Metal, it wasn’t until I came off that mountain and ended up back in the cities, did I discover some of what I had been missing. I was given a promo copy of the Gummo soundtrack and that crystalized things for me. Ever since then, I was hooked and dug as far as I could into the Black Metal and Dark Ambient Underground. I used to make a UG BM zine which led to many contacts with bands, labels, distros and made tons trades and orders along the way. Some mail correspondence comrades I have had for two decades now. I also had a dark electronic band and toured the world a few times which broadened my knowledge and network. One day it dawned on me to turn my passions and obsessions into my trade.

S: Dungeon Synth, and its surrounding genres, has a huge online presence through bandcamp, social media, and a large facebook group with over 3000 members, of which you're one of the admins. How has the online world affected the artists 'mystery' or even integrity, in your opinion? And is the responsibility of maintaining civility on the forums a burden at times?

C: I dislike speaking of the internet in printed zine interviews but understand this question cannot be ignored. There was rift a year or so ago that drove a wedge in the Dungeon Synth scene and I was made an admin of the main group to keep the peace as it were. And to save it from an impending doom that it is was facing as some sought to destroy the fortress wall that we had been building for so long. I have been manning it for the past couple of years and worked very hard to instill an ethic of friendship, honor and support. Drama, memes and off topic materials are not tolerated in the attempts to keep it focused and Dungeon - not a trash heap or place of trolls. I never intended to have this role, but it became a necessary evil. Our lands were being raided so, I stormed the castle and seized the kingdom for the preservation of all things DS. This being not unlike the mid-era BM scene where things got ugly, full of posers and rip-offs. But that’s another story. DS is now an entity of its own and I try to promote an atmosphere that is welcoming, and nurturing opposed to jaded sorts dictating how other artists and musicians should create. We are grateful to have a tight knit cast of active members with new folks everyday - things seem to carry on without any trouble. Any problems are just simply removed without much thought - forward march. As far as artists wanting to be anonymous, to each their own, I don’t see the need to hide.  

S: As a collector, I'm sure you have many boxes of rarities hidden away from the public eye, what are some of your most prized and cherished?

C: This is true. Some things, I just don’t share and like to keep very close. All my collection is prized. I don’t do filler or bad condition. I obsess over the most obscure and often the overlooked and discarded. Not as much rare and pricey, rather merely special to me. Some of my favourites are looked down upon by most so, I won’t bother mentioning them here. I’m a stickler for collectability and keep it all mint. From limited 7”’s to etched and coloured LP’s, cult Cassettes to OOP CD’s. I also collect shirts, patches, badges, zines and have an extensive VHS library - mostly horror and sleaze. I am constantly buying, selling and trading. Out with the old in with the new. I only hold onto things I listen to, read, wear and watch over and over.

S: You mentioned a possible Europe tour, are there any particular destinations you're hoping to visit? Any artists you are planning to perform alongside?

C: We want to get back to Germany, then go to places we have yet to; the Scandinavian countries, all Eastern Europe and of course, New Zealand and Australia. We will play anywhere and everywhere though we will focus on night clubs, art galleries and uncommon venues. We also plan to do DJ sets, show our artwork, clothing line and spread our wings as Hollow Myths*.  We hope to perform alongside old and new friends and intend to drag out some of our artists for these occasions.

S: We thank you for your time, and we're looking forward to the upcoming releases! Any parting words for our readers?

C: Art, music, nature, magic. Don't take any wooden nickels, don't play second fiddle, and don't roll over and play dead for anybody. Walk the endless corridor and shatter the Hollow Myth.

Thanx yet again. Dehails!  - Canrith Knox of Rowen from Hollow Myths*