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rotworld · 8 months

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8: Roadkill

(previous)

the drift has changed. you set off on your next job and run into some trouble.

->sexually explicit. contains noncon, mild gore, gangbang, mild feral behavior, mention of breeding

The shift is a shimmering oil spill across the sky. Horizons tremble. Clouds spin. Rain from another world drizzles the roads, leaving quivering stains behind. Compass Hill’s children name constellations that will never exist again: Butterfly Eating Bird, Flying Seegris, Srivin Who Ate His Lovers. You bask in the tendriled shadow of a creature that is not there. The Drift stabilizes with the startling swiftness of a door slamming shut. The gray dawn comes.

Compass Hill’s couriers are those children who could not weave—grown now, fiercely loyal to the Singer and the haven he made. Some have gone home and found only disappointment. Some have not dared to try. The tug at the heart grows weaker, they say. Someday, they truly believe there will be no pull at all. Only the whisper of wind through silk and the scent of mulberries. But for now, they help you, plucking those old, unwanted threads to see where they lead.

Rivermouth is up north. Splitrock Junction is just west of there. The University is a fair distance southeast. You share an egg basket, the fragrant shells painted with edible floral art. The girl comes running to see you one more time, trailed at a distance by other children who have yet to grow their wings. She hands you a thin, handwoven cord long enough to make a necklace. You recognize the colors immediately; it’s her hopesilk.

“You made this?” you ask her. She nods proudly. “It’s beautiful. You should keep it, it’s very valuable.”

She shakes her head. “Take,” she insists. “Make more later.” She sits with you and the couriers for a while, enjoying the warm breeze and weak, watery light. Her hair has been washed and braided, little butterfly-shaped clips keeping her bangs out of her eyes. She looks so much more at ease than when you first met her, but also older. The roads have left their mark. “Go home?”

“Maybe,” you say. Home is west now, so far west that your map isn’t big enough to mark it.

She walks you back to your car. The Song is a mournful farewell, a keening that rolls through town. The Singer is waiting for you. He’s brought more food than you need. He presses his mandibles against your forehead and helps you load your car. A new egg box for the front seat. A new bag of dried meat and salty snacks in the back. A heavy box slid into the trunk, bound for the University.

“Painsilk shipment. They paid in advance,” he hums. “There’s anchorware in the box to keep it in one piece, in case you get stuck in a shift.”

“Thank you. I’ll try to visit again soon.”

He takes your hand and squeezes it gently. Your missing finger no longer aches, properly cleaned and healed, no longer hidden. The Singer touches the spot where something used to be with aching tenderness, bringing it to his hand to kiss. “Be safe. I’ll wait for the road to bring you back to me.”

You pass through a different gate on your way out. Chiffon is there to nuzzle against you one last time and wish you well. The colorful silks of Compass Hill wither and fade in your rearview mirror, vanishing into the gray. Home is west, says the heart. You try to conjure a fantasy of homecoming but you can’t picture the town, can’t even imagine what the people would look like. You take a deep breath, wipe your eyes, and keep driving.

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: KEEP THE STREETS EMPTY FOR ME BY FEVER RAY]

The road going south is smooth and peaceful, but there’s a lingering sense of unease. The car feels too quiet somehow. Something is missing. You find yourself glancing into the backseat every so often, staring at the empty space, the seatbelt no longer being worn. No curious eyes look back at you. No one scribbles softly on your map, or shares your snacks. She was only with you for a few days and she was so quiet and unobtrusive, but you’re keenly aware of where she used to be, the spot that was hers.

You’d never had company before, you realize. Some couriers offer the occasional taxi service but you’ve never taken work like that. Too much trouble, you thought, too uncomfortable having someone in your space, someone else to look after and take into consideration. You’re used to stopping on your own schedule, rationing your food for a single person. Any deviation didn’t seem feasible.

Loneliness is a bad trait for couriers. Unproductive. The silence won’t feel so heavy after a while, you think. You’ll stop looking back for a face that isn’t there.

The scenery changes. Rocky terrain turns to smooth, rolling hills. The trees thicken, clustered at the narrowing roadside. You’re in a town with dizzying suddenness, a lost and overgrown place. Vines strangle a flickering streetlamp. Old, crumbling houses appear and vanish in the distance like mirages in the fog. This is Verlinda again, a town in the throes of being devoured by ravenous forest. You drive slowly and watch for moving shadows. Something is shrieking in the fog.

There’s a car in the ditch. You slow down even further. It’s compact, bags and boxes stacked against the back window; probably another courier. There are no skid marks off the road but the driver side door is hanging open. Pulled over, jumped out in a hurry? It doesn’t look like it’s been there too long. It’s not rusted or overgrown like the rest of the city. Just up the road, you find scraps of clothing and a crescent of splattered blood.

Something screams again. You turn the corner and your headlights sweep across a body lying in the grass. It’s a woman. Her blouse is ripped open and one of her legs is twisted and mangled, a glistening mess of blood, bone and shredded denim. You pull over but not beside her, putting some distance between the two of you. She writhes in your rearview mirror, trying to pull herself out of the ditch.

“Help me! Please help me!” she wails. Your fingers curl around the door handle but you hesitate. She’s either a courier, or the mimic that ate her.

You look at her again in the mirror, thoughts racing. If she’s the driver of the car you saw earlier, she would’ve seen something just like this, you think, would’ve seen somebody injured lying near the road and stopped to help. It might’ve lunged at her when she was close enough. It might’ve chased her a while, might’ve wandered off to wait for her to bleed out for an easier kill. She might be dying, cold and alone, on the side of the road.

She looks human. She’s solid, her shape stable, not warping or transparent. She’s talking to you—begging you to help her. “Please help me, please!” she cries, and is the simple repetition from fear and delirium or a restricted vocabulary, not understanding what she’s saying but knowing other things have said it? If she’s a mimic, she must be a crywolf. You won’t see anything unusual until you’re within arm’s reach, and by then it’ll be too late.

Suddenly, it’s quiet. She’s no longer screaming. She’s not even moving. You get out of the car and she’s lying there, nearly motionless. Her shoulders rise and sink with weak, shallow breaths. She’s thrown herself forward on her stomach and tried to crawl towards you, but she didn’t make it far. You hear her wheeze, wet, rattling breaths trapped in her throat. You don’t have much for medical supplies but you could be there, at least. You could sit with her, hold her hand.

You have a vivid memory of being young, so young you don’t think you should remember it—of being out here, along the road. Of lying in the grass. Of cars whizzing past, wind that rocked your small body and sent you sprawling, too weak to lift yourself. Sometimes you have dreams about that instead of forgetting how to breathe.

You step closer. She tries to lift her head but she just shivers, shoulders twitching, and gives up. A miserable sound comes out of her and you’re going to her without thinking about the consequences, without caution.

You’re halfway there when something else, something you didn’t hear coming, didn’t see in the underbrush, lurches out of the trees behind her. She twists and screeches and starts to come apart, splitting into sharp, drooling maws, no longer a woman but coils of flesh and teeth. The crywolf is like a snake with mouths for scales, hissing and contorting itself to lunge at the new threat.

It’s badly outmatched. The thing from the trees is far larger. You see a blur of legs, a centipede’s worth of hooves stomping and stampeding, antlers like forest canopy, and you are sprinting back to your car. The roar of your car’s engine struggles to drown out the unsettling sounds behind you, the nightmarish squealing of a frightened crywolf.

You almost swerve when you see a deer. It’s not quite in the road, just grazing beside it. You don’t want to slow down but there’s another one up ahead, a couple standing on a grass bank watching you go by. The next one is right in front of you, staring directly into your headlights with shining eyes and large antlers still fuzzy with velvet. It’s agitated, pawing the road with its hoof. You try to edge around it, pulling very slowly into the other lane. It rams against the side of your car and there’s a terrifying, breathless moment as you lurch in your seat where you aren’t sure if you’re about to tip over and end up trapped in an overturned vehicle.

The thundering footsteps of a colossal beast shake the ground and rattle your windows. You’re afraid to look in the rearview mirror. You hear hoofbeats—enough for a whole herd of deer. A dark shadow falls across you, an enormous shape blotting out the sky. Clutching the steering wheel, you turn to look out the window and it’s—

just a man.

There is no looming shadow. No enormous beast. But you feel it, even if you can’t see it. There’s a chill in the air, the instinctive terror of staring down something that could easily outrun you. The man is unusually tall but not monstrous. He has to bend slightly, tilt his head so he can peer into your window, one arm braced above it. He glares at you disinterestedly, occasionally glancing off into the distance as though he’d rather be doing something else. His hair is long, tumbling in unkempt tangles down his back. He’s not wearing a shirt.

You’ve never seen him before, but you’ve heard enough stories to know you’re looking at the Verlinda Stag.

He taps his index finger against your window. The nail is curved like a wolf claw. His hand is slick with fresh blood all the way up to his wrist. “Courier,” he says, voice low and rough like gravel. “We need to talk.”

“I didn’t hit anyone,” you insist.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Reluctantly, you roll the window down. There’s more blood freckling his face and splashed down his chest, a wide, arcing spray of red dripping all the way down his hips and—

He’s not wearing anything, you realize. Not just a shirt. No pants or shoes, either. By the time you realize you’ve been staring, he’s stuck his arm through the window and unlocked your door. You’re yanked outside and slammed into the pavement without a word, lying in the glare of your own headlights. Footsteps close in around you. There were deer here earlier, you’re sure of it, but all you see is people. Men with irritated scowls and curious smiles, just as naked as the Stag and visibly excited.

You make yourself sit up in a hurry. The Stag crouches beside you, catching your shoulder before you can stand. “Where are you from?” he asks, sneering. “And where are you going?”

“West. Somewhere west. I’m going to the University.”

You’re not sure he’s even listening. He’s looking up, past you, and you hear someone going through your car. One of the men passes him your map. He scrutinizes it briefly, scoffing, then hands it back. “You’re going to do something for me,” he says. They’re rummaging around in your trunk now, moving things around. You try to look back and see what’s going on, but the Stag catches your chin and makes you look at him. “I’m giving you something very important. You’re going to deliver it to the University. You’re going to take it straight to Dr. Loyola at the College of Medicine. If you don’t, I’ll know.”

You nod quickly. The Stag nods at someone behind you and you hear the trunk slam shut. His hand drops from your chin but it’s on your shoulder again, firm enough that you know he doesn’t want you moving. “Is there…something else?” you ask nervously. You’re aware that you’re surrounded again, the other men milling around, standing in a wide circle around the two of you. They’re talking quietly, whispering sometimes. They keep looking at you with hunger in their eyes.

“You should’ve known that was a crywolf,” the Stag says.

You avoid his gaze. “I figured it might be.”

“I know. You reeked of fear. But you still got out of your car. Talked yourself into ignoring your instincts.” He shoves you suddenly and you’re on your back, pinned there by his hand on your sternum. “Desperation,” he says the word with disgust, “is going to get you killed, courier. I can’t have you doing something stupid when you’re making a delivery for me. If it doesn’t make it to its destination, I’ll be very upset.”

“It will, I swear it will!”

He lifts his hand only for one of the other men to take his place. This one is smaller, his build more slender, and he keeps a hand on your throat to choke you whenever you start to squirm, the other tugging at your pants. The Stag stands and begins to pace around you, just outside the circle of eager faces looming above you. “You will,” he agrees. “But it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”

The man on top of you works his hands into your clothes. You flinch when he touches you, rough, calloused fingers stroking you hard and fast. He leans in, inhaling against your neck, and then he laughs. “Ohh…this one’s been here recently,” he says. “Smells like rabbit.” You try to buck him off again and his thumb digs into your windpipe. Your hands go instinctively to his wrist, trying to scratch him, pry him off. One of the others is there, kneeling by your face. He pins both of your hands above your head.

The Stag leers at you. “Rabbit, eh? We don’t have to go easy on you, then, do we?”

They let you keep your shirt on, stripping only your lower half. The road is cold and hard against the backs of your legs. The man on top of you watches tears fill your eyes with a condescending smile, stroking his hardening cock. “It’s not gonna be so bad,” he assures you. “We’re just gonna mark you. Anything with a brain’ll smell Verlinda all over you. Keep you nice and safe and protected.”

You shake your head desperately. “Please just let me go. I’ll go straight to the University. I won’t take any detours, I swear, I’ll be fast—”

“Will you hurry the fuck up?” one of the others snaps. It’s the one holding your wrists, one large, clawed hand trapping both yours. “Stop jacking off and fuck them, we don’t have all day.”

The one on top of you laughs. He bites his lip watching you twist and try to kick him away, easily catching one of your ankles. “Don’t do that,” he scolds you. “By the end of this, I’ll be your favorite. You’ll beg me to have a turn again.” You wheeze when he surges forward, bending you nearly in half. He hooks your knees over his shoulders and you feel his tip at your entrance, rubbing and prodding.

He goes agonizingly slowly. Every thrust is shallow and teasing, just kissing your hole. When he starts to push, it’s with the same infuriating patience, gentle motions that give you time to breathe, adjust, and feel everything. The wind is cold on your skin but his skin is scalding. The pavement digs into your back. He rests his palms on either side of your head, savoring every small gasp and whimper.

“What’s it like to fuck a human?” one of them jeers.

“Mm…tight.” His next thrust is harder, squeezing the head of his cock inside. “And they smell good. Makes my mouth water.”

The Stag saunters back into view, circling behind the man on top of you with his claws trailing over his bare shoulders. For just a moment, his silhouette seems larger, crowned with arching antler shapes. “They’re not just human, Garvan. Not just of this world. Little lost thing doesn’t know where they’re from.”

“Ohh?” Garvan grins as he leans in, resting his weight on top of you. He rocks forward and you feel him sink deeper, more of his length pushing past your resistance. “Poor thing. Does this one have to go? We could keep them. You don’t have a mate for the season, do you?” He withdraws to the tip and then slams into you, making you keen. All that gentleness is suddenly gone. His pace is slow and brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that scrape your back against the concrete.

The Stag hums thoughtfully. You’re barely aware of the sound over your own panting and gasping, Garvan’s moans, the harsh slap of skin on skin. “Hmm. You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t keep every cute thing that wanders into my territory, tempting as it is.”

Garvan hilts inside you and rests there, grinding his hips in a slow circle. To your horror, a bolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. Maybe you can’t hold your voice in, or maybe he scents your arousal; he knows. You see his smile widen, feel his cock twitch inside you. “That’s alright. Verlinda’s a big place. You’ll be back before long, won’t you, courier? Back here, under me…”

Slowly, he pulls out. You expect another harsh thrust but then he’s letting your legs down, stroking himself over your chest. He never looks away from you, holding your gaze with half-lidded eyes and a sick, delirious smile, until he throws his head back with a curse. Cum splatters your skin and he doesn’t stop until he’s wrung himself dry, emptying everything has onto your thighs and stomach.

“Next time I’ll fuck you properly,” he groans. “In my den…during my rut…breed you all night long.”

There's barely time to struggle before someone else takes his place and you're being flipped over, shoved onto your belly with somebody heavier on top of you. "You're gonna share, right, Garvan? Not gonna keep 'em all to yourself." You're dragged partially upright and wince, skinning your knees on the road. The next one is not slow or gentle. A hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls just as he slams inside you in one merciless thrust.

The sight of them surrounding you, all sharp teeth and glinting eyes, makes a whimper slip out involuntarily. They're all watching. Pleasuring themselves to your pain and humiliation, eager to be the next to tear you apart. The Stag takes the spot directly in front of you, hooking his fingers beneath your chin. It's hard to focus on him when someone's slamming into you from behind. "You look good on your knees, courier. But you'd look even better in your own skin." The Stag drags his claw over your lips, tracing the shape of your mouth. "Come find us again when your teeth come in. I want to taste the real you."

You don't know how long they take you like that, ravaging you in the middle of the road. You scratch up your palms on the asphalt trying to crawl away, your knees raw and bleeding. One will mount you, fuck you senseless, and then finish across your ass or back. Your vision swims and your head feels hazy. Your insides are sore and your body is a bloodied canvas from raking claws and nipping teeth. The Stag is always there, stroking your hair or dragging his claws down your back. When the others have finished, panting and satisfied all around you, he forces you up onto your knees and takes your throat.

You don't fight him. You don't have the strength. Your arms are sore and weak, dangling limp at your sides as he holds you by the back of the head and fucks your mouth. You choke on his girth, jaw stretched uncomfortably. You look up at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes and that makes him worse, more excited and demanding. He slams into your throat all the way to the base, balls slapping your chin, and then he holds you there. Your throat spasms and your nails dig weakly into his thighs. You can't breathe.

"Shhh." He strokes your head like he's soothing a startled animal. "Relax. You did well. Just take it." His hips jerk and you feel him cumming, thick and bitter on your tongue. You try to pull away and his grip tights, claws digging into your scalp in warning. You don't have to ask; you know he wants you to swallow. He hushes you again when you gag, gently pressing his fingers into the side of your neck in massaging motions. You're surprised at how much it relaxes you, melting against him. You swallow and his eyes follow the movement of your throat, his cock twitching against your tongue.

“I can almost feel it,” he murmurs. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your throat, massaging something tender beneath the skin. “Right here, deep down…there you are, courier.” When he steps back, you collapse on your hands and knees. You’re cold and in pain, sick to your stomach. Garvan offers you your clothes, chuckling when you snatch them from him.

They leave you there without a word. The men split off in different directions. The Stag cross your headlights, stepping off the road. You see him slip between the trees. That paralyzing feeling of being beheld by something so much larger and stronger, being pinned by its gaze, finally fades away.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift

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snekthedemonnoodle · 7 months

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SAI theory

We all know Scaled And Icy, right? Okay. So, I saw this theory about it that I wanted to share. (I found this on Reddit and copied a lot of it and sorry if this has been posted before.)

So, in SAI, the Bishops brainwashed Tyler and made him write happy songs about all the Bishops. That is why it sounds happier and is more upbeat than anything TØP has done before. Each Bishop is named after a song on Blurryface. So, if you really think about it, there will always be one Blurryface song that matches a SAI song.

Polarize and Good Day

Polarize is about anxiety and Tyler's inability to separate himself from Blurryface. It's a bad realization, and that's what Lisden represents. Good Day is about life drastically changing for the worse. Good Day is Tyler singing in kind of a shocked deny, deny, denial.

Heavydirtysoul and Choker

Both of these songs have a fear of the unknown. HDS is kind of a meltdown, comparing Blurryface to an internal demon. But the last line of Choker, 'The rear view only blinds you', means to just keep running and you'll never see Blurryface. (I was also thinking that it could have something to do with the HDS music video.)

Doubt and Shy Away

Doubt is about being stuck in a toxic cycle about self confidence. Reisdro is the Bishop of cycles about mental health. The only thing that can break the loop is Shy Away, which is about encouraging people to try new things and forget about who they are. Shy Away has tons of metaphors and euphemisms about 'breaking the cycle'.

Lane Boy and The Outside

Even on a surface level, both songs are unhappy with the music industry. Vetomo is the Bishop from Lane Boy, and he represents a dislike for conformity in general. The Outside is also unhappy, but from the other side. It's complaining about conforming being a difficult task due to an always changing mainstream.

Stressed Out and Saturday

Stressed Out has themes of dissatisfaction about every day life, which is what Nico represents in that song: your depression that paves the rest of the way for Dema. But Saturday, on a surface level, sounds like one of the least depressing Twenty One Pilots songs. But if you look at the themes of drug use by the phrase 'medicating in the afternoon' references to the vast ocean and a tight fishbowl, and implied seasonal depression if the days of the week mentioned in the chorus represent time periods longer than days suggest that the disjointed, chaotic but happy life in Saturday isn't so happy at all. Honestly, chances are that Tyler is probably dissociating in Saturday, which also means that the good feels in Saturday don't exist, and that it's just Nico's propaganda track about how depression does not exist if you forget about it.

Fairly Local and Never Take It

Never Take It and Fairly Local is probably the most direct match. In Fairly Local, Tyler tells a story about not listening to himself out of fear that Blurryface might show up. Andre represents a fear of minds that aren't yours and a fear of manipulation, and in Never Take It this is taken literally, where Tyler sings about ignoring people who are not yourself and listening to everything your mind has to say. Every pre-SAI TØP song is the complete opposite of that, but none more so than Fairly Local.

Ride and Mulberry Street

Like Lane Boy and The Outside, these songs are opposites on the issue of fear of life changing that Listo represents. Ride is about how life moves way too fast for Tyler, and that he is moving slowly in life. Overthinking kind of causes this entire song. In Mulberry Street, the same feeling of isolation because of life changing is there. Except in Mulberry Street, it is stated that ignoring it and embracing the moment isn't so bad.

Tear in My Heart and Formidable

Both of these songs are the 'love songs' of Blurryface and SAI, dedicated to the closest people in Tyler's life. Tear in My Heart is one of the most heartfelt songs about Jenna. Tear in My Heart introduces Sacarver and Formidable is his propaganda track, but Formidable is also a subtle encouragement to suppress feelings from Dema. Formidable is quite a sweet song, but the line 'my loyalty will bore you' suggests that Sacarver and the rest of Dema is most alive when Tyler is in his head alone.

Goner and Bounce Man

These songs are, again, opposite takes on a problem. Goner is about the final standoff between Tyler and Blurryface, to search for an outcome. Bounce Man's outcome is no outcome- the entire songs is a cue to run or escape from someone or something. Nills, the Bishop representing conclusions, and his SAI propaganda track is completely contradicting his Blurryface song. Bounce Man is telling people to just keep running from their own Blurryfaces. A lifelong run away from your own head. Both of these songs are running, but one to Blurryface, the other away.

What can we take away from all that?

Well, SAI is definitely propaganda and fits in with the Trench and Dema lore. This also means that Good Day, Choker, Shy Away, The Outside, Saturday, Never Take It, Mulberry Street, Formidable, and Bounce Man are against TØP's true beliefs somehow.

But wait, what about No Chances and Redecorate?

If the rest of the tracks on SAI are Tyler being controlled by Dema, then No Chances and Redecorate are what is really going on inside Dema.

A theory I saw and really liked about No Chances is it comes directly after the end of Trench, and Tyler is in an argument with the Bishops and the Banditos. Tyler wants to leave Dema and is ready to die trying, but the Banditos are telling him to wait and that they will come rescue him. Meanwhile the Bishops are telling Tyler that he doesn't stand a chance leaving Dema and that they will always come back for him.

In the beginning of Redecorate, there's a little 'Oh, oh, oh', but it kind of sounds like laughing. It could be the Bishops laughing at Tyler and/or Clancy's pain and they (the Bishops) are enjoying it. Redecorate could be Clancy's last letter.

Wow. That was a lot. If you've made it this far, kid, thank you for reading. Stay alive |-/

#twenty one pilots #dema #sai is propaganda #tyler joseph #josh dun #trench #blurryface #sai #scaled and icy #twenty øne piløts

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iced-american0 · 9 months

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scaled and icy

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wiklm · 3 days

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HELLO!!! yesterday i spent an obscene amount of time ranking Billy Joel songs by album (sadly missing River of Dreams because i haven't listened to it enough yet) and they weren't originally intended for tumblr but I felt like sharing!!

these are all my personal preference and honestly some i KNOW i’m wrong about but that’s okay bc i made the list for me!! if curious ask for justification or reasoning for my choices and if i have any tangible ones i’ll give you my reasons

Cold Spring Harbor

Everybody Loves You Now

Falling of the Rain

Why Judy Why

You Can Make Me Free

Got To Begin Again

Turn Around

Nocturne

Tomorrow Is Today (so sorry I know the lore for this one and it's NOT bad it's just not my favorite :( )

Piano Man

Aint No Crime

Piano Man

Captain Jack

The Ballad of Billy The Kid

Worst Comes to Worst

If I Only Had the Words (To Tell You)

Somewhere Along the Line

You’re My Home

Stop in Nevada

Travelin’ Prayer

Streetlife Serenade

The Great Suburban Showdown

The Entertainer

Weekend Song

Streetlife Serenade

Last of the Big Time Spenders

Roberta

Los Angelenos

Souvenir

The Mexican Connection

Root Beer Rag

Turnstiles

Miami 2017 (Seen the Lights Go Out On Broadway

Say Goodbye to Hollywood

Summer, Highland Falls

I’ve Loved These Days

James

Prelude / Angry Young Man

All You Wanna Do is Dance

New York State of Mind

The Stranger

Get it Right the First Time

The Stranger

Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)

Vienna

She’s Always a Woman

Scenes From an Italian Restaurant

Only the Good Die Young

Just the Way You Are

Everybody Has a Dream

52nd Street

Zanzibar

Big Shot

Stiletto

My Life

Half a Mile Away

Rosalinda’s Eyes

Honesty

52nd Street

Until the Night

Glass Houses

Sleeping With the Television On

I Don’t Want to Be Alone

Sometimes a Fantasy

You May Be Right

All for Leyna

Don’t Ask Me Why

Through the Long Night

Close to the Borderline

It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me

Ce’tait Toi (You Were the One)

The Nylon Curtain

Laura

Pressure

A Room of Our Own

Surprises

Where’s the Orchestra

Allentown

Scandinavian Skies

Goodnight Saigon

She’s Right On Time

An Innocent Man

Tell Her About It

Easy Money

An Innocent Man

Careless Talk

Uptown Girl

Keeping the Faith

This Night

Leave a Tender Moment Alone

The Longest Time

Christie Lee

The Bridge

Modern Woman

Big Man on Mulberry street

A Matter of Trust

This is the Time

Running on Ice

Temptation

Baby Grand (with Ray Charles)

Getting Closer

Code of Silence (Feat. Cyndi Lauper)

Storm Front

I Go to Extremes

And So it Goes

When in Rome

Leningrad

State of Grace

That’s Not Her Style

Storm Front

We Didn't Start the Fire

The Downeaster ‘Alexa’

Shameless

#the billy joel insanity is NOT getting better im starting to get worried #i fear i will be burned at the stake for some of these #but anyways #easiest albums to rank were The Stranger and Glass houses i think #hardest album to rank was probably Storm Front #bc im the last familiar with it. and so i knew which ones I wanted like. first and last #but the middle songs were very difficult #also officially liking Get it Right the First Time MORE than The Stranger which i was not expecting #umm #but anyways! had a lot of fun with this #again please ask if curious for my reasoning #billy joel #wiklm shitposting

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salty-an-disco · 5 months

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YA BOI CONTRARIAN? (And if you have any ContraHero songs...)

MY BOI CONTRARIAN!!

Bummerland by AJR

We’re All Gonna Die!!! by Baby Fuzz (something about how upbeat and ridiculous this song is as they list off the many ways people die just screams Contrarian to me)

Lonely by Imagine Dragons (you know that line in my first ContraHero fic about how loneliness might still catch up to Contrarian? Yeah)

Mulberry Street by TØP (something about the laidback and chill tune while singing mildly concerning lyrics)

and I already mentioned how Tom Cardy’s whole discography can fit Contrarian, but Perception Check and Why Am I Anxious? are especially fitting

And as for ContraHero songs, weeeellllll–

Telepathy by Egg

anarchy by Egg

Banana Bread by Cavetown (“‘you’ll never be enough.’ But what is enough? you’re selfless, isn’t that enough?” <- just abouts breaks me)

Nobody Loves Me by Cavetown, mxmtoon, & Ricky Montgomery (the song itself is actually much more sweeter than the title suggests)

i love you by Billie Eilish (haven’t stopped thinking about this one ever since asterion mentioned it lol)

#voice of the contrarian #ContraHero #slay the princess #songs association #mailbox #Sal Rambles

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f0linasahl0 · 2 months

Text

more things about the livestream experience before i go completely insane.

(warning: this is going to be a long one)

1: why is [bishop] lisden's favorite song mulberry street and why is [bishop] sacarver's favorite (if i remember) the outside or stressed out....i just want to throw that out there

2: i absolutely adore the piano spread whatever thing tyler does before he goes and raps to migrane. i dont know what its called but when he runs his hand across the piano, it was good. how did he make it sound so good and musical...

3: why is the shy away livestream version the only livestream version that is on their official "the story" playlist??? i keep thinking about that (https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3roRV3JHZzaU_kQ4-7uv-ahPbFabFmRW)

4: also thinking about how they cut off holding onto you before the outro. basically all there was of holding onto you was the "entertain my faith" part...thinking about the lore THERE. how a "good day dema" ad cut off the ending as well then they talk about how happy they are !! then how it goes to mulberry street after dan LISDEN says its his favorite then how it goes so blurry BEFORE THE AD??? ----"entertain my faith" sounds something like he..wants more from the religion but they cut him off from continuing the rest of holding onto you..like he got in trouble or something? i dont know man

5: "dema is bringing you this music collection that is vibrant with saturation"... "dema wants you to enjoy this collection"..."i just felt trapped before having this collection" ... "contentment"...."now that youve heard some of this collection you must be just like us, completely saturated"..."sometimes i close my eyes to try to escape...you know you cant escape sally...yes i know!" PROPAGANDA

6: why is he holding and grabbing his head so much. past the literal deadpan ass stare hes got through the majority if not all of the experience (like even while doing his little dances you'd think he'd be smiling during...), why does he grip his head so often-- i talked about this before but like what are they doing to him man he like grips his head in almost pain so much

7: also thinking about what the lore implications of jenna and debby being in this...because im pretty sure its shown jenna in levitate is a bandito i only assume debby was one too. why are they there?? were they caught too? or did dema make clones of them to use against josh and tyler?

8: "i cant wait to see you again"

9: ”in a world where this is as good as it gets…we miss you. we really do.”

10: also can we discuss the "CONTROLLED by" dma org and good day dema??? this photo is blurry as hell but CONTROLLED BY! not PRODUCTION OF! specific word choice..also dma org...dmaorg.info...why are clancy's letters posted on a website thats directly correlated with dema...letters from his time inside as well as time outside...can we like talk about that--like other than the obvious showcase that they have his letters and are using them to lie to the people, why are they going through dmaorg?? if clancy isnt directly with dema why are they--why are they going through there???

11: the whole cutscene before lane boy "there was a wonderful structure to the city that put my cares to rest and the responsibilities of the day seemed to be accomplished with minimal effort. once a task was taught and understood, our obligations timely, and it felt secure knowing tomorrows duties would be accomplished with the same efficiency. we all worked to represent our bishop with honor knew that each inhabitant of our region had a like-minded dedication to consistency....why do i kneel to these concepts? tempted by control, control by temptation. stay low, they say. stay low," then the direct contradiction of the redecorate rap he inserts, “with the bells and the whistles scaled back like an isolated track, and he feels trapped when he's not inebriated fair to say he's fairly sedated most days of the week. he might have made it if he lived on a different street. i repeat, scaled back and isolated he says he likes an open schedule but he mostly hates it if you're running to his room, take a breath before you break-in put your ear up to the door, tell me can you hear him saying?” using clancy's letters to show praise to dema then clancy (tyler) directly contradicting being like "no i hold zero praise for this city" and saying how hes isolated and sedated when hes not preforming--how he ALMOST made it out. how if he lived A LITTLE closer to the walls he wouldnt be there right now-

12: the way the old songs are "SCALED BACK AND ISOLATED" ???? A SCALED BACK AND ISOLATED TRACK????

13: the way ned is missing in chlorine when he was such a big part of chlorine

14: AGAIN this shy away version. one-why is it so important to the story, two-the 9 chairs for 9 bishops around the table, three-i fucking love the guitarist by josh i love his energy, four-THE WAY HE BREAKS A GLASS WHEN TALKING ABOUT BREAKING THE CYCLE IN HALF???, THE SCREAM !!!! so many things

[so many things you guys]

15: the fucking bishop ass dancers to stressed out....can we discuss that too. ALSO HOW THEY DRAG HIM TO THE NEXT STAGE FOR STRESSED OUT?

16: "but remember you should- *cut off*" YOU SHOULD WHAT SALLY SACARVER????

17: also firstly, how beautiful the ukulele part was...it was so gorgeous, also the transition was amazing. though past that, can we talk about how fucking sad he looked on that little boat with his uke? was that a mock to his escape attempts? to him singing to an empty sky in trench? singing to the banditos as they boat someplace safer? like...

18: THE MOCKING OF THE BANDITOS WITH THE FUCKING JUMPSUIT/HEAVYDIRTYSOULD PART?? why would dema do that? why would the bishops actively make josh and tyler look like the banditos if it wasn't just a mock? they dont like the banditos i thought why would they have them dressed up like that? like torchbearer bringing the torch to the stage and the look josh has on his face-then tyler also being in a bandito outfit. like--it has to be mocking his attempts. mocking the banditos or SOMETHING

19: heathens being in the livestream makes me think a little too but i dont know. "all my friends are heathens take it slow, wait for them to ask you who you know. please dont make any sudden moves you dont know half of the abuse."

20: also first, what was that alarm that was sounded before never take it? what happened there? second, the lore people have posted about never take it and how it was about the bishops? the way it was played while the alarm was going off and it was almost messier filming...

21: HIM ENDING THE LIVESTREAM WITH "nobody's coming for me" and his deadpan look (sobbing)

22: again, bringing up sally sacarver and dan lisden. sacarver and lisden being bishop's names and hosting this livestream. then showing directly how the bodies they are controlling are deteriorating as the show goes on. "The rules are that you can only seize or control a dead body, and only for a short while."

23: also just the heavydirtysoul part. starting to think about the: "I tricked Nico into taking me outside the walls. I created a fiery diversion. I escaped." i just keep thinking about that and:

24: "we've come for you, we've got people on the way, no chances, none at all" the way this is direct quotes from dan and sally, who are bishops, and it is also direct lyrics (or close to direct lyrics) from no chances. it just keeps cementing itself on everything ive already thought about

25: past just the livestream experience what is with josh and the bucket hat lol. i love it but like.-

26: "you ask me if its real, i see your shifting eyes, you dig in your heels, i dig my hole to die" also wondering why the "live from the outside" version is here rather than the original.-is it important

27: his little dances are my favorite thing-

28: CAR RADIO...car radio. thats it thats the point. just the car radio part is everything to me--its giving old car radio performances and im living for it. though also old car radio performances? did they put it together like that on purpose?

29: NEVER TAKE IT HAVING A BURNING CAR HOLY SHIT FIREY DIVERSION? LMAO just how close he is to the camera during this too...so many thoughts

30: "...you know you cant escape sally...yes i know!" IS THIS LIVESTREAM SHOWING CLANCY AND HOW HE DIDN'T ESCAPE EITHER?? SHOWING THAT HE HAS BEEN CAUGHT AND IF HE CANT ESCAPE, THE NOTORIOUS CLANCY, THEN YOU CANT EITHER???! SO MANY THOUGHT!!

[sorry for how long this is-]

DID THIS SHOW HOW MANY THOUGHTS I HAVE HERE. im going insane like i keep thinking about the lore implications of this goddamn livestream. i have more points (i will make a essay list whatever for it all so i don't go any crazier) but this is already a lot for one post. just wanted to like...throw this out there. i know some might be a stretch but please just hear me out. just hear me out :,)

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