#Dose Your Dreams

[senorboombastic]

Live Review: Jade Hairpins at YES in Manchester 9 February 2023

Words: Andy Hughes The story goes that Jade Hairpins mysteriously emerged back in late 2018, an unknown outfit releasing a 12 inch on Merge Records. A coinky-dink for the eagle-eyed mind you, as life-affirming Canadian hardcore collective Fucked Up just happened to be releasing new album ‘Dose Your Dreams‘ on the very same day. We were somehow oblivious to all of this of course, only…

[zibiscusloon]

You and me, we’re not the same

I am a sinner, you are a saint

[kittlesandbugs]

Commission illustrated by @antisocialxconstruct of the moray scene during the Hollow Ground meeting in Fallen Hero: Retribution.

Book text under the cut:

Hollow Ground's head is unknown territory, but you don't need to go deep to do what you need to do. All you need is a nudge and a tweak, find a reason she'd be ready to let you go and strengthen it.

And you've got to do it fast.

Slipping in through her shields is second nature by now, walking the minefield, a coral reef of creatures hungry to devour you. Don't touch the tentacles, feeler anemones tangling the currents, coat your thoughts with scents close enough for her mind not to immediately recognize the intrusion.

Curiosity is a subtler feeling than fear or paranoia, but no less potent. Especially since it's shared by you. What is going on here? There's something more than superficial chance resemblance, sure, and those are not your thoughts. Those are Hollow Ground's.

Interesting.

Worth exploring.

You gently brush your fingers over her mind, bringing feelings to life. There are dangers everywhere around you, but you don't let them catch you unawares. It's a beautiful mindscape, a coral reef filled with life and color, hidden dangers lurking in crevasses, the ever-present sea anemones trailing their tendrils everywhere. A less talented telepath would be tangled and risk triggering a memory, but you're a master of your craft.

Familiarity can be a useful shield. You can brush against thoughts and memories, picking up details. There's already enough of a rapport you can use for groundwork. Similarities, not just in looks but in…demeanor?

Very carefully, you reach into one of the darker crevasses, a crack going deep, as if an earthquake cracked the mind down to the core. There are things there, old memories, slippery and cold and out of the sun.

"Put your hand in that crack,"

"and you won't get it back…."

Singing? A memory?

The aquarium is as tall as you are, filled with all the brightness of the tropical sea. Fish glitter past like confetti, too small to pick out, but together they're strong. Your breath is misting the glass, but you're entranced, it's the best day of your life, you didn't think…

Wait. Your life?

A reflection in the glass, your face but far younger than you've ever been, eyes meeting yours   and too young,too innocent, the smile, the chubby cheeks, and there's a hand on your head, a fond ruffle and a whisper in your ear.

"…that's a moray."

A memory. Of course. It stinks of Hollow Ground. A fond memory? Intense enough to form her mindscape? Looks like it.

You yank your hand out just before the moray strikes, two sets of teeth missing your fingers, and you bare your teeth in an echoing growl. It's dangerous this deep, you can feel yourself sinking into memories of your own, of different tanks, not filled with saltwater but amniotic fluid, trapped, the faces glaring at you covered with surgical masks, tapping the glass, and you twitch, echoes amplified and you can't get out and do you even know what's out? Do you know anything?

Too loud. Everything echoes, their thoughts so loud, and none of them concerned with you. You. There is no you. Just a body. A potential. Nobody bothers to name the fish in the tank. If you did, you'd have to grieve when they started floating belly up.

Lies. You named them.

You named yourself.

Floating belly up. How did you lose yourself in here? You went too deep, you need to breathe, but everything you touch gives way, climbing kelp and looking for the sun.

~I got you.~

Dragged back, pulled out, pushed behind. Protected. The ghost of a memory.       

"Fuck." Hollow Ground coughs, leaning against Nocturne, who is glaring daggers at you. You're back in the room with blood in your mouth and salt on your cheeks. "What was that?"

Excerpt from Fallen Hero: Retribution by Malin Ryden

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"yes im so fine"

*researches whether i can get my hands on ipecac*

[cattythespy]

I have to say, if my wife suddenly hands me five pills when all along I’ve been taking two, I would hesitate just a little.

[satanic-fruitcake]

if i had a nickel for everytime my favourite characters in an early 2000s show was the loveliest woman you’ve ever met and some weird guy she likes i’d have two nickels.

which isn’t alot but it’s weird that seems to be happening a second time.

[feisty-n-spicy]

Living the Dream 💞🙌🏽🤗❤️

[indelicateink]

confused. are the screeners out or not? reports conflict.

because if so, journalistic integrity is kinda dogshit for some folks? did social media on this topic just become unusable for the next FOUR WEEKS while people in the know make reveals like the character spoiler today?

[prestonmonterey]

ok so we all know going to bed crying

but

have you considered

waking up crying

pros: none

cons: youre crying

[badolmen]

Good news: nightmare meds stopped a dream about cops.

Bad news: nightmare meds did not stop a dream about my friends being trapped with and mauled by lions after I alone escaped and had to sit watching for literal days as emergency services individually rescued and treated my bleeding friends

[senorboombastic]

Album Review: Fucked Up - One Day

Words: Ben Forrester Canadian outfit Fucked Up have been pushing the boundaries of punk rock for over two decades now, with most of their full length output acting out as 60 minute-plus rock operas. Make no mistake, their more sprawling, longer records are incredible, but it was 2014s ‘Glass Boys’ LP that really grabbed me. For me, it was a solid punk rock record that still retained all the…

[obnoxiousarcade]

im thinking again

[damnedrainbows]

// 🗒️ FOR LUUUUUCI

Her ruby lips could put roses to shame, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt them on mine. We meet in our dreams, but every time she feels more and more like a ghost. I don’t know if it’s a distance that I have created, or one that Heaven has. I probably created that distance so long ago myself.

Rationality tells me she’s in Heaven for our benefit, For our Kingdom, and it’s not to get away from me. Yet I can’t help but think of the years we lost when we were together, but I wasn’t present, mentally. I’d lost my spark for so long. I’d lost hope in our people but hers never died. She encouraged me to fight for us. I’m sure she was frustrated when I gave up. Disgusted.

Her candle always burned for us both, but I made her carry that flame alone for so long.

…Did she get tired of it? Did she get tired of me?

[havoc-bloom]

Rat Trap

An angsty, horrible, no-good ficlet starring Klaus and Jack.

(TW: Physical abuse mentions. Just… Klaus being a general asshole. Also the relationship between Klaus and Jack is EXTREMELY toxic and I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It is terribly unhealthy and manipulative, and in no way is this an attempt at “romanticizing” it. It’s fucked up. You have been warned.)

The warehouse was hardly a home. It was hardly even a house. It was more like a place of residence. It didn’t deserve the title “home,” because home is where you are loved. It didn’t deserve the title “house,” because in a house you’re supposed to feel safe.

As the winter sun began to peek through the fogged windows, Jack felt anything but safe or loved. As he tried to sleep, he kept hearing his… for lack of a better word, “partner,” Klaus. Pacing. Rambling to himself under his breath. The occasional clatter of him punching a wall or any standing object.

It was normal now. Klaus often stayed up well into the daylight to vent his frustration from the previous night. He would break things, he would yell, he would let his rage boil over and scald whatever it touched. Klaus being angry was a usual occurrence, and most nights Jack would sleep through it.

Other nights, when he was unfortunate enough to be awake, Jack would act as a punching bag. Klaus seemed to blame a lot of things on Jack, whether he was the cause of an unsuccessful hunt or he’d talk too loud when Klaus had a migraine. It wasn’t unlike him to be aggressive. That aggression led to Jack’s skin being littered with marks. Bruises. Scars. And so Jack began to go to sleep earlier, so he wouldn’t be subjected to Klaus’ rage.

Tonight was different.

As Jack began to drift off to sleep, to finally find peace and comfort in the confines of his unconscious mind, he heard something from across the warehouse. Something so bizarre, so out-of-place, that for a moment he believed himself to be dreaming.

He heard crying.

It was small. Only the occasional quiet, choked sobs followed by the slightest sniffles and whimpers. And considering he hadn’t heard anyone being stabbed to death by now, he was sure it wasn’t a human. Slowly it turned to little mumbling between sobs, soft apologies barely made coherent as they echoed across metal walls.

“... What happened … left me alone … stupid, stupid, fucking stupid!…”

The clatter of metal against concrete. And the loudest, gut-wrenching, pained scream he’d ever heard.

An instinctual fear washed over him as he jolted upright, scrambling to his feet and finding his footing before sprinting towards the noise. He hoped, dreamed, prayed to any god that would listen that Klaus hadn’t been hurt. That instinct to protect was overwhelming. Even if the person he was trying to save would never do the same for him, the urge to do so despite that consumed him. Because that’s what Veldigun do. They find a partner, and they don’t separate. No matter what.

Turning a corner, Jack cringed at the smell of blood and rot and artificial birthday cake. The scent always lingered around Klaus. It was used to lure in children, and made it much easier for Jack to find his way to his partner. Nose in the air, he followed the stench of death. Nearly sliding past, he dashed into an open doorway. “Klaus!? I heard a scream, what-”

“-happened…”

There was Klaus. This overbearing, arrogant, terrifying monster was reduced to a weeping mess on the ground. Curled up in a corner, knees tight against his chest, and sobbing his eyes out. As viscous black liquid poured from the corners of his eyes, he looked up at Jack with an emotion he’d never seen out of his partner before.

Klaus felt grief. And to Jack, this revelation fell somewhere between terrifying and glorifying. He’d never admit it, though there was something satisfying about seeing Klaus this way, feeling such human emotion. Shaking off the feeling, he crouched down next to his partner, worry etched on his face.

“K-Klaus? Are you… are you alright?”

The rat scoffed despite his tears. “Does it look like I’m alright, jackass?” He was barely able to muster up a chuckle before a sob overtook his throat again, and he choked on his words.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright…” Jack reached out his hand to rest it on Klaus’ shoulder. “You can tell me whatever you need to, I’m right here-”

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He flinched away violently, curling in on himself more. “Sorry!…” Jack muttered, the worry in his expression quickly turning to one of sympathy. He lowered his hand back down to his side. “Do you… need anything?”

Klaus paused for a moment. “...I don’t know.” He sniffled. “I don’t fucking know anymore.” The sniveling quickly turned to strained weeping, throat sore and eyes red, and he buried his face into his knees. Jack, unsure of what else to do, sat next to him. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t move. He just sat. And though Klaus had put him through so much pain, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy. He despised the pity he felt, but it welled up inside him, gnawing at his insides.

And as much as Klaus hated to admit it, Jack’s presence did bring comfort. Vague comfort, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, but comfort nonetheless. He didn’t know what drove him to do it; overwhelming grief? A singular grasp at something resembling comfort? Either way, he grabbed hold of his partner, and pulled him into an embrace. Sobbing into his chest, clawing into his back. And Jack returned it with soft arms.

They eventually fell asleep, holding each other. Klaus first, exhausted from crying his heart out. Jack couldn’t seem to fall asleep for a long while, though. Something ate at the back of his mind. Guilt, regret, anxiety, all viciously clawing at him, mocking him. Why do you care for him? Why haven’t you just left? You have nothing to win and everything to lose. There’s no use.

But instinct compelled him to stay. Without anyone, what was he to do? He was directionless without Klaus. His entire existence was hinged on him. He became dependent on the individual that seemed to hate him most. He couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t. And with that thought, he drifted to sleep.

When he woke, Klaus was gone. He heard the sharpening of a knife outside the little room, and assumed his partner was waiting for him.

Veldigun stick together. They hunt together, they live together, they are their only source of company. How lonely it is, to be a monster, when your only companion is a monster much worse than you.