radio414

Forde's the one that falls asleep in the middle of battles or gets distracted and decides to paint, right? I guess that tracks.

Well, what did you expect? They're the put-upon younger siblings whose elder brethren always baby and look down upon even when it's clear that's no longer necessary. They probably spent every night rocking themselves to sleep, mumbling to themselves, "Someday... Someday..." In my mind, it wasn't a "will they?" but a "When will they?" Eirika was the first. We should have seen the signs.

Saturday, September 23, 909 PD Feast of Saint Padre Pio “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” -Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV) From: Melissa To: Gabriela Hi Gabriela I guess the first thing we need to do is coordinate what we’re wearing? Were you planning on wearing your royal dress or did you have something else in mind? Melissa had taken her assignment seriously. Well, that implied she didn’t take all her assignments seriously, but this one she took especially so, almost to the detriment of her schoolwork. During class, she’d try and follow along taking notes, but she’d always end up taking out a second sheet of paper which she’d fill with, well, with everything she thought might be important. What to wear, what to bring, what to say, what time they should meet, how long they’d be out… If she thought of it, it got written down. When she studied, she would sit down with some snacks and go over both her homework and her outlines simultaneously. She’d solve a math problem on the right before going over a dance problem on the left. Then she’d take a potato chip, eat it, and start the process all over again. “Figure out x and y” and “Figure out what happens if, say, student council president Ashley Rendleman deigns to even look in your direction” were equivalent problems in her mind. From: Gabriela To: Melissa Of course! My clothes are far more elegant than anything else I could find. Occasionally, Melissa would spot Gabriela going around campus, but she tried to keep the communication at a phones-only level where it was more manageable. Text messages really were Melissa’s domain. Her biggest barrier to talking with other people, especially new people, was how long it could take her to form something worth saying. When there was a social time limit, she ended up stumbling through sentences, never really arriving at any sort of point. But on her phone, the time limit was longer, and she could write and rewrite messages until she was satisfied. From: Melissa To: Gabriela Okay. I’m pretty sure I remember what that looks like. I was thinking we’d meet up at your dorm, say, forty-five minutes to an hour beforehand, get dinner, and then head over to the dance. How does that sound? Oh, if only she could sound as confident as she did once the words had been punched into her phone and launched into the aether. It was already the day of, Melissa still had so much to do, and all she was doing instead was hiding in her room going through old text messages for the tenth or eleventh time. The items on her agenda weren’t difficult, per se -- she had to what, go to the florists for the corsages, do the actual “getting ready” of makeup and changing into her dress? Nothing else, right? -- she just had to go and do them. From: Gabriela To: Melissa Dinner? Yes of course. That would be acceptable. Alright, that was enough of that, Melissa decided. She took a few deep breaths, as if that would help her in some way get through the day, and lurched herself out of bed. One could either walk or take a bus to the floral shop. The bus was air-conditioned, a luxury in the late days of summer, but she had so, so much time to kill before the dance, taking the long way was probably for the best. Melissa had also heard through the grapevine that this was going to be one of the last “good Saturdays, so get outside while you still can,” and it was for those reasons that she set out on foot. The “grapevine” had been the community service group chat, freshly unmuted after Connor had texted her asking her opinion on some incident that had happened the day before. As far as Melissa could tell, the joking insults had escalated into some more… violent language and Connor had asked the more senior members of the club what they thought he should do. It was something Melissa was split on. She didn’t like the language anyone had used, but she also thought, well, if anyone involved was going to improve themselves, wouldn’t it be by serving their community? As much as she’d become disillusioned with the club since the start of her second year, she did still have fond memories of her first one. And those had to be worth something, right? Connor had asked “last year’s group” as he called it to help keep a closer eye on things, and Melissa had obliged him. So every so often her phone would buzz and she’d read a message like: Did u guys know that if you screamed for 8 years 7 months 6 days youd have screamed enough to make one cup of coffee and she would sigh and put her phone back in her pocket. But she was trying, and Connor was trying, and that was, well, that was as much as anybody could hope for, wasn’t it? Melissa reached the floral shop a bit sweatier than she had intended but she had been planning on showering at some point before the dance so she didn’t mind too much. It was a quaint little place, not much bigger than many of Melissa’s classrooms with a little back room Melissa assumed was where all the managerial stuff was kept. It had muzak speakers playing something Melissa didn’t recognize, a distorted yet oddly calming song with the words “It’s your move” repeating over and over. Was that the title? It didn’t matter, in any case. What did matter was the left wall, half-stocked with preprepared corsages and boutonnières and a big sign above it all that said: “Have A Great Kickoff Festival, Blue Yonder!” But even only partially stocked, there were still so many options! Melissa had indeed remembered what Gabriela’s royal outfit looked like, and she knew what her own dress was going to look like, but she wanted everything to be perfect. For Gabriela’s sake, at the very least. And yet, even in such a small store, even only partially stocked, even ignoring all the items that looked like they were for lapels rather than wrists, there were enough differences, enough options, that Melissa just… She just froze. She couldn’t fathom it all, and that drive for perfection only made things worse. She wasn’t shaking, quivering, whatever (at least, she hoped she wasn’t!) but it was all she could do to stand there and try -- just try -- and find the right corsages for her and her date. But if this was just what buying flowers was like, Melissa was definitely not looking forward to the night ahead.

Not pairing Joshua with Natasha is a travesty that will not be forgiven. However, for now I will make do.

Melissa didn’t do, well, she didn’t do anything when she arrived home. She was exhausted. She didn’t take her shoes off or turn on a light or anything, she just flopped down on her bed face-first and tried not to think about anything. Which was difficult, given the day she had just had. It was like a leaky dam in one of those old cartoons, where plugging a hole in one area just meant another hole somewhere else opened up, maybe even three or four at once. So she could try, she could contort her metaphorical body this way and that trying to get everywhere, but it was a fool’s errand. She couldn’t help but think. But that wasn’t exactly a good thing. Melissa’s mind poured over the events of the day, pointing out the little things she should have done better. She shouldn’t have hesitated in accepting Gabriela’s offer. She could have made sure Elizabeth was okay. She could have talked with Hoshiko more at that club meeting. And on and on and on. The absolute flood of “what could have beens” was only interrupted when the dorm light finally flicked on and Hoshiko entered the room. Even then, she pretended not to notice Hoshiko as she went about the room, yawning rather loudly and, well, doing whatever else she liked to do whenever she got back. It wasn’t like Melissa could see, lying how she was. Though after a few moments she felt a gentle prod on her back and heard the loudest whisper she had ever heard. “Psst,” Hoshiko said. “Are you awake, Melissa?” “I’m awake,” Melissa said, rolling over onto her back as if that was demonstration enough, though once she managed eye contact with her roommate, she added in an awkward wave and a “Hi, see?” “Sorry you didn’t get to ask that question, by the way,” Melissa said after another moment. “I don’t- I think I got caught up in, uh, introducing myself and everything that came after that. Was that what you wanted to ask? If I wanted to join the Entertainment Club?” “Oh, don’t worry about it!” Hoshiko said, giggling a bit. “Honestly I was really proud of you back there. I was sure I was going to have to help you talk, but you went and did it all by yourself!” She laid back down on the bed, rolling over to face Melissa. “Yeah, I was going to ask you if you wanted to join.” She winked. “I think I know what your answer is, though.” “Proud of me,” Melissa said, repeating Hoshiko’s words back at her. “I guess.” She was about to say, “At least someone is,” but she wasn’t that self-loathing, was she? No, instead, she sat up in her bed, turning to hang her feet over the side, kicked off her shoes, and said, “I don’t know, Hoshiko. I mean, I guess I felt okay in that moment, and yeah, I did okay, but, like, I don’t know how I could deal with that sort of spotlight all the time, if that makes sense. Like, you’re an idol, right? How do you deal with all that?” “How do I deal with it?” Hoshiko said, turning towards the ceiling. There was an eagerness in her voice. Melissa had gotten used to Hoshiko’s general mood in the short time they’d shared a living space, but this was something more, like she had been waiting for this question for a while. “Well, whenever I’m in the spotlight, I honestly kinda forget it’s there,” she said with a chuckle, turning back towards Melissa. “Whenever I’m performing, most of my attention is on the performance itself. Sure, I know people are watching me, but at the moment that’s not where my whole attention is, ya know?” “That makes sense,” said Melissa. “But like- sorry, I don’t quite know how to phrase this, um…” She lay back again, only popping up when the words finally came to her. “I guess, I don’t know, I guess I was asking about all the other stuff. Like, when you’re not performing, you’re still Rose the Idol, right? People whispering, pointing fingers like ‘Hey, is that Rose?’ or ‘Do you have anything she could sign?’ or… I admit I’m not super experienced with how people talk about famous people, but stuff like that. “What I’m worried about is having to be always on like that, or the spotlight’s always on. The performance, I figured other people were involved in the performance and stuff like that. People who could help me get through it. But all the other times…” Melissa rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s the other times I guess I’m worried about the most.” “Ah, I think I get it now,” Hoshiko said, placing a hand on her chin. “Most of the time, I don’t mind getting the extra attention from people like that. Honestly, it makes me happy to see them get excited like that. But I don’t think me telling you that helps you that much…” Her words faded away, Hoshiko losing herself in her won thought. Not that she didn’t seem eager to answer, of course, though even that enthusiasm, to Melissa’s eye, seemed to be dissipating away. “Of course, it’s not always like that,” Hoshiko eventually said. “Sometimes I do overhear things that… aren’t so nice about me… or read about it online.” Hoshiko frowned a bit, although it was a short bit as she sat up on the bedside, her eyes drifting down to her shoes before lighting up with a glint of realization. She smiled again as she kicked off her shoes gently. “...so what I do then is focus on the positive!” She pointed her thumb towards herself. “For me personally, I think about whatever event I have coming up or, if nothing like that is happening, I think about the adoration of my fans!” Hoshiko gestured towards Melissa. “Of course, whatever it is that makes you happy is probably something different, but you get the idea right?” “Mm,” Melissa said, nodding along. “Sure, I think I get it.” She stood up from her bed and started collecting her various toiletries, trying to start the getting ready for bed process. Once she had them all she turned back to her roommate. “Thanks, Hoshiko,” she said. “For the talk, I mean. I feel a bit better about it now.” “No worries at all!” Hoshiko said, tossing herself back onto her bed. “You can always come and talk to me about any problems you have! I’m all ears.” Melissa could tell she meant it, too. There as something different about the spring in her step as she got up and headed over to the lightswitch, something Melissa had sometimes noticed herself doing when she’d managed to help someone. She was just about ready to turn off the light when she paused and laughed to herself. “Oh, I need to change!” A few minutes later, after both of them had finished their nighttime routines, Hoshiko returned to the lightswitch. “Goodnight, roomie,” she said, flicking the switch off as she did so. Melissa waited until she heard Hoshiko’s head hit her pillow before echoing the sentiment. “Goodnight, Hoshiko,” she said before she laid back in her own bed and closed her eyes. Have mercy on me, Oh Lord, a sinner. Wipe away my transgressions, and let me be reborn anew in your glory Help me turn away from sin, and move towards your eternal light. Oh Lord, I thank you for lending me your strength today. I thank you a thousand times over and I would thank you a thousand times again if a day like today never happened again. But I also fear that may not be possible. I fear that I know my path, one that will have me borrowing your strength for a while now until I reach my eternity and can return it to you with joyous celebration So please, grant me your strength again, Lord. Grant it to me until I no longer need it. In the name of The Father, and of The Son, and of The Holy Spirit, Amen Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. -Mark 11:24 (NIV) But she didn’t sleep. Not yet. In that darkness, so similar to the one she’d made for herself before Hoshiko had come home, her mind wandered again. There were differences this time, of course. She was lying face-up and under her covers, for one, instead of smothering herself with her pillow. Not to mention the light sound of Hoshiko breathing on the other side of the room, which exuded a comforting atmosphere over the whole area. So instead of fussing over the events of the day, instead her mind went further back. To the previous Sunday, and before that, to her Bible study meetings. And her times spent in a confessional booth. And on and on, all the way back as far as she could remember. Melissa’s church had a poster. It was supposed to be for the children to read after Sunday School or while playing in the halls waiting for the service to end. But it was placed at a corner turn right before the narthex, where one couldn’t help but pass it while heading in. Melissa herself had seen it countless times, and even in the pitch black, she could still conjure its image in her mind. It was a simple thing, both in material -- the creases in its paper were likely older than Melissa, and it was tattered all around, especially near the edges -- and in design. The poster depicted a beach scene, the tide going out and dozens of starfish scattered around the foreground shore, continuing off into the horizon. In the distance, the poster had the image of a human of indeterminate gender, posed like they were about to attempt the world’s longest skipping stone throw. Splayed on top of all this was a simple story, and like everything else about the poster, Melissa knew it well. One day, the poster said, a man was walking along the beach when he noticed a boy, in quick but practiced and smooth motions, picking up things and throwing them into the ocean. He got closer and said, “Young man, what are you doing?” The boy looked at him and said, “I’m throwing starfish into the ocean. The tide’s going out and the sun is up. If they don’t make it back, they’ll die.” The man laughed and threw his arm back, gesturing to the thousands of starfish he had already passed on his walk. “Look, boy, at all these starfish. This beach stretches for miles and miles. You can’t possibly make a difference.” The boy was undaunted. As if to reply, he got down, grabbed another starfish, and threw it into the ocean as hard as he could. Then, he looked back at the man and said, “I just made a difference to that starfish!” The author, according to the poster, was unknown. The author always seemed to be unknown on posters like that, like the designers were always afraid of a little attribution. That part never really bothered her, though, until she was much older. Loren Eiseley. That was the author’s name. And even then, not really. Melissa had looked that part up, too. Apparently, his story had been twisted, stripped of subtext until only the twee short paragraphs and punchline on the poster remained. The original short story, as far as Melissa could gather, was more interested in what happened after, as in, what happened to the man on the rest of his walk. Eiseley’s original story did not have that final retort, that punchline the poster seemed to adore so much, nor were the man and the boy the only ones on the beach that day. As the man continued walking along, he saw others scrabbling around, grabbing at whatever clams or crabs or starfish they could find, putting them all in buckets before waddling away from the ocean, buckets in hand. The man, here much more clearly a stand-in for Eiseley, muses that they are likely taking them home to boil and consume, leaving only the seashells behind for their collection. The man is disgusted by this but does nothing, instead continuing home, and only then does he consider the star-thrower’s actions. “‘Love not the world,’ the Bible says. ‘But I do love the world,’” Melissa whispered, quoting one of the few lines of the original story she could remember before her mind began to wander elsewhere. Melissa’s thoughts rushed back forward in time until they arrived again at the scene at the park bench, the one that started with Sai asking for his notebook back and ending with Melissa making the first of a series of decisions that she was sure she was going to regret. The worst part was she remembered being aware of them at the time, too. The later ones could be explained away by the same “in for a penny in for a pound” mentality that had gotten her closer to Gabriela, or possibly Elizabeth or Jun before that, but that first decision, that was something different. “If you have issues you wanna talk about, or just want to help people, entertainment dueling is a good way to go about it,” Sai had said. “As you do better and get more fans, you get a wider audience to raise awareness with, you know what I mean?” That was the moment that had doomed her. Sai had offered a way out from the Community Service Club she’d held in so much contempt, and Melissa had jumped at the chance. “Just for one meeting,” she had said. As if she didn’t know what that would mean. She’d be asked for another, and another after that, and she would say yes because, well, it was just one more, right? Melissa’s breath began to accelerate. She’d been aware of the lure, of the fishing line attached to the bait dangling right in front of her, and she gobbled it up all the same. She didn’t even have a “cause”, she’d just accepted the idea that she might have one. Did anyone else in that club have “a cause?” Did the already established duelists -- Sai, Souji, and Hoshiko -- have anything they were fighting for, championing above all else? Should she have asked? She nearly bolted upright in her bed. She nearly got out and went over to the restroom where she was very much prepared to just spend the entire night, or at least however long it took for her to calm down. The only reason she didn’t was, well… It was stupid. It was so, so stupid, and it shouldn’t have worked, but Melissa managed to start thinking about starfish again. The poster had a simple moral: “Even the smallest effort matters.” Despite its simplicity and the knowledge of its distance from the original Star Thrower, Melissa still thought it was good and valid. But that didn’t mean Eiseley’s wasn’t better. Eiseley’s message was about the choice, how one piece of good could inspire others to make the same decision the boy- the star-thrower had made. “I understand,” Melissa whispered into the void, quoting Eiseley once more. “Call me another thrower.” She could do good. She would do good. And it was that final resolution that relaxed her enough to let her close her eyes, for now, at least, a little more at peace.

Last eurobeat unless I'm prompted for more, I promise.

Oh, is this rate Eurobeat hour?

“‘Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.’’” -Luke 14:28-30 (NIV) Melissa was on high alert the moment she said yes. No, it was a red alert. Defcon five- one- whatever. Because that was what “hoping she wouldn’t regret it” meant. She’d hate the decision later, she knew that much about herself -- she could imagine herself asking why she did that over and over as she went to sleep that night -- so she had to do as much as she could to mitigate that. She knew she had to be stubborn about things like this. Maybe that was why she was so forward at the club meeting too? Well, it made sense, at least. But now wasn’t the time to be analyzing her past actions. The dance was now the end goal. It was the big, immovable problem at the end of a long series of other, smaller problems. What was she going to wear? Could she dance? The phrase “dance like nobody’s watching” didn’t work because if she ever had danced (a rare occasion already, to be sure), it was definitely while nobody was around. And there would be people watching. That was the whole point. To pretend otherwise would be a lie. Gabriela, meanwhile, had spent her half of the conversation talking vaguely about making plans herself. It was only in the vaguest of terms, which didn’t help, though Melissa didn’t really feel like she should press the issue. But then Gabriela suggested that Melissa do the planning and all her problems were doubled. No, not doubled. It was exponential, not multiplicative. But she had to do it. The same stubbornness that kept her from fleeing the moment Gabriela requested they go together kept her from refusing. She wasn’t about to let Gabriela down now. Her honesty, though, forced her to let her down at least a little bit. “I- yeah, I guess I can plan out Saturday for us,” she said. “But, um, it’s only a couple days away. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do besides where and when we can meet up. Maybe some color-coordination, too, though I don’t have the best wardrobe for that, I don’t think. Did you want me to just text you this stuff or…? I don’t- what’s the best way to contact you?”

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” -Psalm 32:8 (NIV) Melissa hadn’t actually realized she was still standing. Like, she knew she was standing, obviously, but she hadn’t quite parsed that she was standing just in the doorway while everyone else was sitting down until Sai had called her out on it. “Why don’t you sit down at the table with us?” he’d said. Melissa could only respond with a meek, “Oh, yeah, okay.” She grabbed one of the many empty chairs around the room, maneuvered it next to Hoshiko, and sat down. Sai, meanwhile, had kept talking, going on about how one could make an angel costume. Which was fine and all, but- no, it was great, actually. Melissa had spoken a lot but she hadn’t actually put more effort than that into the actual appearance, so it was nice that someone else could take her idea and run with it. There was just one little niggle. “I don’t- I don’t think I want the wings to change color, I think. Um,” Melissa said. “I don’t know. I- yeah, sorry. I don’t have a reason, just a gut feeling. “Or, um…” Again, Melissa backtracked the conversation. Sai was going through the effort of including her, shouldn’t she at least try and express herself a little more? “I guess I like the idea of ‘redeeming’ them through play? So I’d just have white wings and…” There was supposed to be more. Surely she had more, right? She wasn’t going to just end a thought like that, was she? But the only other thing she could offer was an “I’ll- I can show you I guess next meeting… or later or whenever, if that works better.” Sai nodded as he looked at his notes. “Alright, that sounds good,” he said. “I'll keep doodling some things for you in the meantime, alright?” “Alright,” Melissa said, and that was that. From Melissa’s point of view, the rest of the club meeting passed without incident. Sure, not everybody was done talking just yet, and it wasn’t like Melissa just zoned out entirely for the rest of the meeting, but nobody after Sai directly addressed her, so she was able to be a simple wallflower, neither grabbing attention nor getting in anyone’s way. Which was good, because she hadn’t quite realized how exhausting holding the spotlight like she had would be. She assumed it got easier with practice, but for now, all she wanted was to be alone and recharge for a moment. Her room was probably the best place for that, but she had to get there first. And standing between her and her room was Gabriela. “M-Melissa! My most loyal of s-servants! I d-demand you to a-accompany me to the K-Kickoff Cup this weekend!” Gabriela said. At that point, Melissa was used to not really seeing Gabriela until she was already upon her. That wasn’t the problem. Nor was the problem that she was getting shouted at; she imagined worse scenarios all the time, so she was used to that too (to an extent, anyway). No, the problem was the question itself. Or the implied question. Or… yeah. Because she remembered what Connor had texted her earlier: Just go have fun! The Kickoff Cup was something Melissa had made sure to have other plans for last year. She hadn’t expected to be asked or anything, but just in case, you know? This year, she’d had no such luck but had been confident enough that she’d made it under the radar that nobody would mind if she no-showed again. No such luck, though. The choice was simple: Yes or no. But instead of answering, Melissa made a noise not unlike a sharp intake of breath through the nose and just froze there like she didn’t realize those were the only two options. There were variations on different themes, sure. She could let Gabriela off gently or with a terse “No.” She could enthusiastically say yes or she could be reluctant about it. But each variation started out with the same crossroads, and that was where the real indecision lay. And each passing moment only made it worse. “I’d…” Melissa said. “Love to” and “can’t, sorry” were the only two follow-ups in her mind. Melissa wanted to say no. She wanted to say no because, well, because it was the Kickoff Cup! Whatever progress Melissa thought she might have made, the Kickoff Cup was still Melissa’s antithesis. There was going to be a very publicized duel, there was going to be a dance… I was going to be one thousand voices, all talking over each other in a dreadful cacophony of gibberish for an entire Saturday. “I’d…” But on the other hand, Gabriela had come up to her directly. She hadn’t texted or called -- and Melissa knew she’d given her her number! Not only that, but she also could guess from how Gabriela had asked that this was something important to her. Was she so selfish that she’d deny a good weekend for her friend just for some personal happiness? No. No, she wasn’t. There were bigger fish in the sea, other parties to avoid in the future for any number of reasons. Right now, though… “I’d love to,” Melissa said. She only hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

Corentin wasn’t a medic, but the medic tent was where an apothecary was probably best placed, so that’s where he was. It was where his master had been too, though they’d gone and disappeared somewhere, leaving their apprentice only the vaguest of instructions. “Help where you can,” they’d said, as if that hadn’t been clear from the moment the two had arrived. “If you cannot help where you are, find a place to be where you can.” It was still only the calm before, though. So “helping where he could” in this case meant either readying supplies and doublechecking -- no, triplechecking -- inventory or idling about waiting for the wooden barriers to fall and the first casualties to come in. Then, so those people said, then they would spring to action. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq…” Cori had chosen the former. He’d actually wanted to help more. He wanted to be making the medicines and the poultices, adding to the stockpile with every vial. But there wasn’t any place for it. “Besides, we should already have enough. Just don’t get in the way,” everybody had told him, which seemed more like tempting fate than a reassurance. It seemed like there were a lot of people doing just that, trying not to get in the way. They must have chosen option number two, Cori decided. And there was something to the idea of being sure you were ready, tense in anticipation. It was that four fifty-nine feeling, right before the dinner rush started but too late to do anything else of value. It was a nervous energy, but it kept you alive. Alive. Cori cursed under his breath. He’d put himself in the mindset that there wasn’t a possibility that he could die today. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known, it was just that it wasn’t a thing he had thought about. Should he have been thinking about it more? Surely he should have, no? “Trente-trois, trente-quatre…” Even from where he was standing, even as far away from the walls as he was, he could still hear the Undecided clawing at the barrier. How many were there? How many would- could they take? What if they came for him? It wasn’t like he could defend himself. Would anyone else come to his rescue? They had to, no? He’d do the same, or at least he thought he’d do the same. That was why he was there, after all. The medic tent, not the Ever. Why he was in the Ever, well, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about. “Your strength... what is it made of? Would you risk it all... for the truth?” That wasn’t his voice. But when Cori looked around to see whose it was, he didn’t see anybody it could have been. Which made sense when he thought about it a bit more. The question actually seemed to come from his own head. A rogue thought then, or…? Either way, the question lingered, demanding an answer. “My strength,” Cori said. “My strength? What strength? I can cook and I can count and hopefully I can keep people alive. And if I am lucky, tomorrow I can do it all over again. And the next day. And the next. Until… “Until…” he said again, but the sentence just ended there. He’d lost count in the meantime, too, and had to start over. “Un, deux, trois…” If there was a risk, it wasn’t his. So if this rogue thought needed his consent to quote, “risk it all,” it had it. It just had to wait until the barricades broke and the storm came flooding in.

You!You!You! Shanahatescoffee - M.A.G.I.C. featuring Justice and Bruno Mars Also you! Tharsity - Ballertale: GEEEEEEETTTTT DUNKED featuring Toby Fox and Quad City DJs

Duke Blaster - Eastwood Digger featuring Gorillaz and Caravan Palace you know what they say, "the cream rises to the top" Isosine - Psychosocial Baby featuring Slipknot, Justin Bieber, and Ludacris

i prefer to leave the skin on my potatoes when i mash them but i understand that everyone has their own preference and unlike other food opinions this is not a hill i am willing to die on DJ Cummerbund - Houston And Sons featuring Whitney Houston, Mumford & Sons, Kesha, Avenged Sevenfold, and Macho Man Randy Savage i'm sorry whose thread is this? jk nice one oneboredjeu - Queen of Barbie World featuring Aqua, Queen, Foo Fighters, and Ludacris

I was going to bump my other thread (which you still totally should here:) but then I realized: why share just one banger when I can share two (or more‽) at once! So yeah, same rule as before, feel free to reroll if you don't think it slaps as much as I do.

Dunno if you clicked on this one from my AMA, but you've got me in a Justice-submitting mood now so here's the most Justice-y thing. It is 17:40 (it's technically a four-song EP but it's all together on Spotify and their Youtube channel), so fair warning for that (and fair enough if you don't want to finish it).

Justice was one of the bands I mentioned when you asked a similar question in my AMA. They're one of those bands again -- seemingly changing their style with each album they put out, but I think all of their songs still sound like Justice songs no matter which period in their discography they're from. This is DVNO from their first album, and I think it is a pretty good through line for the style they've developed since then.

One of "those bands," yes. Like, for example, what if you, as a perfectly reasonable band with two drummers, released four albums in 2017, but because they were all wildly disparate concept albums, you had all these other songs you wanted to make that didn't mesh with any of them? That's what Gumboot Soup, where this song is from, was for.

Melissa had already braced herself for suddenly having to deal with four or five or six people. That was the part she knew about. And she knew that Hoshiko was one of them. The other ones, well, she might have been able to guess Souji if she thought about it a little bit more, but the other two? It was nice that she’d met them before and all, and she really didn’t want to judge people more than she already had that day (as if there was some “judgment quota” that she couldn’t pass!), but Kyouko and Akari were not the people she’d been expecting. Akari had been the one speaking as Melissa walked in the room, saying things like “I honestly don’t know what kind of persona I could be” and “Stall until I can bring out Rainbow Dragon.” She waved at Melissa as she finished speaking, and Melissa returned the favor with a smile and a nod. Her focus was on Hoshiko, though. Hoshiko, her roommate. Hoshiko, the one who’d always ignored Melissa’s failed grasps at handing a normal conversation. Hoshiko, the one who’d texted her saying she had “something to ask her in person.” It wasn’t Hoshiko who asked the first question, though. Souji had stepped in, and his question was a simple “You?” Melissa knew what he meant. If anyone was surprised that she was joining a club like this, it was herself. But that single word also erased any sort of hope of being accepted quietly. Kyouko, for example, hadn’t even seemed to recognize her, she was just that good. But to Souji, and therefore, the group at large, now it was a surprise. A spectacle. All eyes were on her. To Souji’s credit, he did have a follow-up question as well. “Care to join the Entertainment Duel Club?” he said. “Fairly certain that’s what Hoshiko was planning to ask.” “I think I am,” said Melissa. She still wasn’t sure, like, she wasn’t actually sure if she’d ever be sure sure (the word seemed to lose all meaning when she thought about it like that), but saying it out loud did give her a little bit of empowerment. Even if there was officially no turning back now. “I even- I even think I know who I’d be.” Well now she was just saying things she hadn’t entirely thought through yet. What was she doing? She’d just walked in, already probably (definitely!) causing some sort of scene, and now she was trying to command the spotlight? The part of her that was all for it -- a very small part of her, as Melissa kept reminding herself -- was very much pushing for “better now than later, while they’re already paying attention to you. But it was like ripping off a Band-Aid. Doing it so fast… “Sorry, um,” she said. She was backing up (socially, of course (though a little bit physically as well?)). That was good? Maybe? “I think I recognize everybody here, but, um, my name is Melissa Ashforth. Uh, yeah. Hi. What else would you want to know about me? Sorry, I’m terrible at icebreakers.” She was still going. Why was she still going? “I have a deck, um, doesn’t everyone? It’s Darklords. You know, fallen angels, or what I guess the lore says are fallen angels. I think they’re just based on a bunch of different angel-like things. I recognize a couple of them, I think, but, uh. I’m sorry. I don’t even duel very often.” “You?” Souji had said. The word still dug into her, begging her to justify her presence. And she knew she wasn’t doing a very good job at it. “When I do duel, I don’t know, I guess I’d rather not?” Melissa said. “I just- it usually means -- or meant, I guess -- that somebody else was challenging me and I wanted to get away as soon as possible. So, you know, I take risks. I get my Life Points dangerously low. Win or lose, either way, the duel's over, right? “It’s funny,” Melissa said, though she didn't laugh or smile or anything like that. “I know a lot of people who are really reckless going through life, uh, driving especially, like, speeding or weaving in and out of traffic or stuff like that. Their excuse is always ‘Whatever happens, God willed it to be so,’ and, uh, I don't think I live my life like that, but I do duel like that, I guess.” “You?” “I'm sorry,” Melissa said. “I should have led with something else if I was going to say something like ‘I think I know who I'd be.’” It turned out backing up had not been a good thing. “I do, though. I think. Um, I think most of you have seen my, ah, ‘Sunday finest.’” Her nun outfit. That one was supposed to be funny -- she even laughed to herself -- though nobody else seemed to. “It’s not that, though. Kind of related, but, um... okay.” Melissa took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if she was on the final stretch or not, but she took a breath all the same. “I- when I was younger, like, elementary -- maybe even kindergarten, I’m not sure -- I wanted to be an angel. Like, uh, you know, appearing before shepherds announcing the good news or, I don’t know. This was before I started learning the theology of things, you know, seraphim over cherubim over thrones, um, sorry, the point is that I didn’t realize saints were under even the lowliest of angels. “I don’t know. Anyway, uh, I did look up what angels there were there, and, like, I guess there’s only one with a female name. Like, there’s Michael and Raphael and Uriel and all the others, but there’s only one Lailah. She’s in the Talmud, even, and I think the verse is in the Bible, too. Um, “And when Abram heard that his brother was taken captive, he armed his trained servants, born in his own house, three hundred and eighteen, and pursued them unto Dan. And he divided himself against them, he and his servants, by night, and smote them, and pursued them unto Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus.” -Genesis 14:14-15 (KJV) “Some interpretations of the Talmud, anyway. The ‘by night’ bit, that’s, uh, that’s ‘Lailah’ in Hebrew. I’m rambling, I’m sorry. Um. So I think if I was going to dress up as anything, it would be her.” That was it. It was a lot, and a lot of it probably hadn’t been necessary, but she was pretty sure that was going to answer all the questions they’d inevitably have sent her way anyways. Yes, that was her reasoning: she just wanted to get them out of the way now. And now that she’d done so, she was free to melt into the background for the time being. Or perhaps… “Sorry, I haven’t been in this building in a while. The restroom’s just around the corner, right?” She wasn’t freaking out. She was fine. She just needed a moment, that was it. A drink from the water fountain outside, maybe some extra water splashed on her face. That was it. She was fine. “You?” Okay, maybe she wasn’t fine, but she felt better than she thought she was going to going in, or even during her whole spiel. It didn’t mean she didn’t need some time to recharge, but she still took pride in the fact that she had managed to do it at all. She stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t feel any different than she had that morning, whatever that feeling had been, but, well, would she have done that even a few weeks ago? Melissa wasn’t sure. What was next? Well, she had to go back in there, of course. And she’d probably missed a thing or two. Her duel skill, for example, did she need to talk about that right away? Or was general style enough. And if she had missed it, was that a black mark on her? Souji’s single-word question still rang in her mind and she- No! Not now. Not when she was doing so well. Melissa splashed more water on her face. It didn’t help as much as before, but it was enough for the time being. Today, she was fine. She was okay. Tomorrow, the day after that, Saturday even, that was all in the future. Right now, though… Melissa walked back to Room 24, trying her hardest to just have a pleasant smile on her face, and re-addressed her fellow club members, “Sorry about that. Um, any questions? Anything I didn’t address?”

Le Chef Vagabond

I don't think King Gizz has "a style" tbh. Their current most recent album -- where today's recommendation is from -- is, to steal a joke from the internet, "Dad Rock," but each album is more or less its own style. Frankly, it's amazing how good (I think) most of them are.

Also I realize I've only been submitting the heavier King Gizz songs when the majority of their albums (also, they were formed in 2010 they have, like, fifteen albums) are not that -- they're basically all over the place. But this is their newest so this is what you get for now.

Is it the vocals? I didn't want to say anything on the first listen but yeah, they're probably an, ah... acquired taste. Western is probably my favorite song of theirs but I can't find that on Youtube just yet so here's Talking Heads instead:

black midi the band not the genre

hardware