I need to do more finger bass, apparently... #bassguitar #bassistsofinstagram #bassistproblems #paradel #aeternamruinamalbum #fingerbass #fingerbassstyle https://www.instagram.com/p/BuCoZaxHviy/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=l45wsjf9dh7v
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I need to do more finger bass, apparently... #bassguitar #bassistsofinstagram #bassistproblems #paradel #aeternamruinamalbum #fingerbass #fingerbassstyle https://www.instagram.com/p/BuCoZaxHviy/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=l45wsjf9dh7v
Paradox in Love. (Alternate Universe 2)
Paradox was simply coming back to the 21st century when he met Laurel. They met by chance, she appeared just after he had arrived in the time. She acknowledged him and he her, though when she began to search through a garbage can for food, Paradox took it upon himself to take her for a meal.
She ate and he sat there and talked to her, they learnt of each others pasts (Or lack thereof for Paradox) and he told her of his abilities. She told him that she was an alien and it did not bother him at all.
They are literal opposites, but for some reason Paradox took a liking to the young lady (Young in retrospect to himself, not to a normal human.)
He took her to the Moon, which is where he first kissed her. This was for Paradox a rather awkward moment, causing him to blush and even stutter at times. But she reciprocated and they are for lack of a better word, dating.
Experimental Research Meme.
Hell is described very different on Orthon that it is popularly on Earth. Rather than be licked by flames or sorted into circles, transgressors merely stumble in the dark, forever searching for salvation where there is none.
Laurel had felt very much in hell. The months passed had been spent following leads that often lead to nothing and wearing the soles of her boots thin. At the end of each day she tumbled into sleep, exhausted, and awoke feeling as though the night had passed in the blink of an eye. The dirt under her finger nails grew thicker and her head always turned, unprompted, expecting to see a flash of blue.
And then, in keeping with analogy, she finally found her way from the dark. If only to find her salvation overcast in shadow.
That wasn't the Professor. The alien cursed, foreign words that seemed to shiver and drop to the floor. The Professor was lively. She threw her gun to the floor, tore the coat off her skin. The Professor protected. Wordless, and with a stolen key, Laurel released his wrists from their manacles. The Professor was strong and elusive and ageless and kind. He didn't get caught. He wasn't supposed to be here, shackled and pale.
The woman took him into her arms, and despite his fragility, collapsed into him, trembling. "You... you look so thin."
It was the only time he'd seen her cry.
"The Ballad Of Love (Paradox) And Hate (Laurel)"
Love writes a letter and sends it to hate. My vacations ending. I'm coming home late. The weather was fine and the ocean was great and I can't wait to see you again. Hate reads the letter and throws it away. "No one here cares if you go or you stay. I barely even noticed that you were away. I'll see you or I won't, whatever." Love sings a song as he sails through the sky. The water looks bluer through his pretty eyes. And everyone knows it whenever he flies, and also when he comes down. Hate keeps her head up and walks through the street. Every stranger and drifter she greets. And shakes hands with every loner she meets With a serious look on her face. Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow. Carrying with him the good things we know. A reason to live and a reason to grow. To trust. To hope. To care. Hate sits alone on the hood of her car. Without much regard to the moon or the stars. Lazily killing the last of a jar Of the strongest stuff you can drink. Love takes a taxi, a young woman drives. As soon as she sees him, hope fills her eyes. But tears follow after, at the end of the ride, Cause she might never see him again. Hate gets home lucky to still be alive. she screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive. The clock in the kitchen says 2:55, And the clock in the kitchen is slow. Love has been waiting, patient and kind. Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign, That the one that he cares for, who's out of her mind, Will make it back safe to his arms. Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door. Weary head hung, eyes to the floor. She says "Love, I'm sorry", and he says, "What for? I'm your and that's it, Whatever. I should not have been gone for so long. I'm your's and that's it, forever." You're mine and that's it, forever.