#back to going to mellow mushroom I guess :/

[a-vampire-culturelover]

An Zed x Mariska Lollipop chainsaw Fanfic

Zed was.. less than happy about his death. More or less that he had ended up in Rotten World.

His dad always yelled at him if that he kept up his “Abhorrent language and cutting up the poor frogs under the porch stairs he’d go to hell”, although he usually ignored them or told them to piss off. If anything he was beginning to think this was less of a punishment and more of a reward; So what if he did some stupid shit to get here? That’s not gonna stop him from having a bit of fun.

Going around Rotten World and causing chaos in his Afterlife was probably the best thing to have happened to him since he died, and frankly he couldn’t wait for his piece of shit dad and deadbeat mother to end up down here and have some fun payback.

And yet even while he was busy cussing out to his hearts content and wreaking havoc on other degenerates in Rotten World, he couldn’t help but admit he felt.. Lonely.

One day, after he had been running from his latest stunt of breaking some demon’s car window and pissing in it, he noticed someone sat atop a pile of bodies simply just playing an instrument. He didn’t know what it was called, but it sure as hell didn’t look like anything he ever played; seemed more peaceful than his usual irritably loud taste in music. Feeling a bit daring he decided to climb atop it and talk to her, wondering how anyone down here could possibly take the time to chill out instead of having the time of their lives being chaotic bastards. The lady didn't seem to even notice him until he just barely made it atop the pile, trying desperately not to tumble off due to one misstep on some poor corpse's face. Upon closer inspection, he noticed she was playing a.. See-tar? Sitar? Whatever, he just remembered they were something some hippie dork from high school would play after the last class by a bushel of trees on campus, he remembered fondly putting thumbtacks in his instrument case an evening prior to his untimely death. Finally, as he sat down just a little bit behind her, barely on the edge of the corpse pile, he gained the courage to speak. "Hey Hippie Dippie Dumbass." That seemed to get her attention, as she shifted focus from her instrument to him. He didn't notice before, but she looked stitched up, like she'd gotten mauled by a Bear that snorted a whole suitcase full of cocaine; contrary to that, she seemed to look very mellow in comparison to her grotesque stitching and scars, sporting clothes that definitely fit Zed's hippie remarks towards her. She looked to him and simply giggled, earning a faint blush from Zed's dead face. "Fuck you laughing at Flower bitch?" He muttered, as she continued to laugh for quite a while, to a point Zed wondered why he even climbed up a whole pile of corpses to talk to some Hippie Girl. "Sorry, I just can’t help but laugh at your look! It’s sick, little punk!” Zed couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not, but nonetheless he was flustered by it. Trying to muster words to make a proper comeback, he stuttered and failed to much to his own chagrin. As he muttered angrily to himself he sat down, this new stranger giving him some light pats on his back for encouragement.

“There there, little punk-“

“stop calling me little punk!”

“can’t call you anything arose if I don’t know your name, little punk!”

“its Zed, geez!”

“Name’s Mariska, lord of peace and eternity.. and The Rot~”

Zed was starting to warm up to ‘Mariska’, especially seeing as she wasn’t all peace and harmony as her hippie flower-munching demeanor seemed.

“How come your down here, Flower Bitch?”

“I guess when you dabble in mushrooms and aspiring to see the beyond like I do, you get on the bad side of the flow of life and death..”

“…What?”

“And what brings you here to Rotten World, Zed? Here to chill and rot for eternity like the rest of us?”

Zed..hesitated, before telling her

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mariska seemed content with that, understanding it wasn’t her place to pry for information from some new person who didn’t seem to want to look back on their past. After all, if they’re dead and gone in the realm of the living, surely the world of Rottenness is their future!

“I’m gonna go smash some stuff and swear at demons, you wanna come with Queen of the Damn Pansies?” Zed offered his hand as he got up, wondering what weird way to go down the corpse pile and make a grand exit.

“I love pansies, Little Punk!” Mariska giggled as she took his hand, the two escorting themselves down the corpse pile to have a little fun elsewhere.

“I told you my name’s not Little Punk. Its Zed.”

“Sure thing, blooming phlox of the night.”

“..That’s better.”

And with that, the two went off on their own, climbing the ranks and becoming Dark Purveyors, meeting others like them along the way. Despite that, the two’s friendship never faltered, always staying strong despite their grandeur differences.

[autistic-raphael]

,,i saw a beautiful opportunity today so i built a board for the first time (i have ridden prebuilds to this point)

it's jackson pilz' Toadadelic pro deck; 9.125x32.3 football shape with mellow concave and steep kick which???? amazing stats, absolutely perfect for me, also

I also love the aesthetic design of this deck; i love that they kept the woodgrain visible, i love that they gave it a split veneer, i love the palette they chose, and that they put the graphic off center, i love that the graphic is almost secondary to the wood of the deck itself, i love that the text on top relates to the graphic, and that the logo matches the colour on the flip side thereby bringing both sides together

so obviously i had to get clear griptape lmao i was back and forth between this clear mob and a dgk mushroom design bc it would match the toad but i eventually settled on clear to preserve the top side of the deck

the trucks are kien caple's K5 DLK trucks by krux. we werent familiar with kien before i bought these beautiful blue trucks that i thought would suit this board beautifully, but what a delight to discover that kien is also trans (transfem)!! a trans pro skaters trucks wowowowow!!!! and they have beautiful lovely doves on them too :)

the wheels are 55m 78a mini super juices by oj. the person helping me was astonished by how close the colour was to the colour of the deck, as was i. there were some sweet multicoloured spitfire classics that i was also considering, but i decided to stick with something closer to a cruiser wheel, which im more used to riding, and i love how i can see the bright pink wheel peeking out from the sides of the deck and seeing it with the green and blue

my partner graciously let me use his spare set of bones reds bearings, and the hardware is standard black indie, though i do want to look for some good gold hardware because Can You Imagine. it would be Beautiful

and then of course i added a couple stickers, the oj sticker down by the frog, and little alien sticking it out saying "lets get weird," which delighted me and which i thought would suit the theme of the deck. hes under the tape so hes nice and safe

Ive been standing on it in the apartment to get used to the feeling of it and to adjust the trucks, and the length of the board is soooooo prefect for me. Id go to step back after balancing on my front foot and id step right into the pocket, its perfect for my shoulder width. the steep kicks are awesome, they feel great for control for the limited amount i can get in here, aha, and the combination with the mellow concave is Awesome since im coming from crusier boards

I didnt set out to buy a board today, but man it really just jumped out at me. There were a couple really cool shapes at the shop today, and this was the best one. I was hypothetically looking at wheels and I asked if i could compare a couple sets, so i grabbed the board to put them against it at which point i was like,,,, i guess im gonna put this all together lmao. But it looks awesome!! and it feels good, and im excited to learn a trick or two on it this year

[dirtanddistance]

Bill's Beer Run Race Report

Date: 29 October 2023

Location: Casey Key, Florida

It’s been said before that you can never go home again. Nothing is ever quite the same, including you. On the other hand, I would suggest that this is a cynical take that only looks at the merits of being able to return to something wholly static. As I learned this past weekend at Bill’s Beer Run, you can go home and find yourself grounded in all that has changed since you were last there.

I’ll begin this race report with the disclaimer that I have not run it since I was perhaps in high school. At least 13 years ago. I certainly was not running with my brother then, and my mom could still beat me on a good day. Dad was alive, and largely uninterested in road races (or cross country races, or track races - to be fair, these are not spectator-friendly events). Walking into the New Balance store near the bridge to the beach with my mom and brother was like walking into a place frozen in time; the merchandise on offer had changed, but the store itself was ever the same, as were the faces of the volunteers checking us in. Friendly faces from a different lifetime asked where I lived now, excitement growing in their eyes as they told me how much they’ve always wanted to visit Vancouver. We drifted off to the Mellow Mushroom nearby for dinner, another place seemingly untouched by the passage of years since I had last been inside. I wasn’t entirely sure when I was here last or with whom. I can still remember the first weekend of October 2018 when my dad and I sat in the patio section, splitting a veggie pie; he told me about his Parkinson’s diagnosis with his cane (a new accessory) perched against the table as though I’d never have guessed anything had gotten worse since we’d last met. Being in the Sarasota Mellow Mushroom is not a glum experience for me, despite that memory. Weirdly enough, I consider this place to have some weird energy that somehow brings my family closer whenever we are there. I digress, however; this is supposed to be a race report and musing on the passage of time, not a deep dive into my experiences in a local chain restaurant.

The weirdest part of this race is the complete staticness of the course. Bill’s Beer Run has a very straightforward format; you run 2.5 miles, turn around, and run back. The start and finish line has been in precisely the same place since the dawn of time. The scenery of houses and hotels and occasional glimpses of the beach look identical year in and year out. They claim that there is a ‘hill’ at one of the curves in the road; however, after living outside of Florida for more than 15 seconds I can arrogantly confirm that this is not, in fact, a hill but rather an excuse for a disappointing split. Running it 10 years ago or one week ago is the exact same experience visually and physically. You drown in the humid air whether you are acclimated to it or not. I imagine whoever ran the first one had a nearly identical experience to mine last weekend. The flora and fauna of Florida are also very static. Palm trees and scrubby plants that hardly budge and have no seasonal alter-egos stande firm through storms and hurricanes line the way and contribute to the sense that parts of Florida must exist outside of time itself.

The last time I ran this course as basically a child, I was with my mom. Running a race with my mom during her racing prime was one of the most obsessive experiences a human being can ever have during their mortal coil. You arrive at the location no less than 1+ hours before the starting time. Back in the day of race-day packet pick-up, you would need to be at that check-in desk at opening time and not a moment later. Numerous trips to the bathroom would occur, with much hemming and hawing about when to head to the start line (at least 20 minutes before start time) and how much water to drink before the final trek over. There is absolutely no science to any of these decisions. Once I went away to college, I was finally able to work out that this plan was actually absolutely insane and figure out something a bit more reasonable. Running a race as adult-me with my brother after going to bed at 3 a.m. (Halloween Horror Nights was fantastic, thanks for asking) is a much more zen experience. Get up 30 minutes before you need to leave the house. Leave the house at most one hour before the race starts, arrive no more than 30 minutes before the gun goes off. Slam an energy drink and some water, maybe a protein bar. Time your fluid intake so you can go to the bathroom within 15 minutes of the race starting. Run as hard as you can without either throwing up or passing out. High-five each other while staring blankly at the ocean, and then spend the following hours politely entertaining your mom’s friends who remember when you were 10 years old, reflecting on how as much as things may seem static here, you have changed and grown in ways you haven’t paused to notice.

Now, you’re probably wondering ‘Where is the actual race report?’ and that’s a great question. After writing up a couple of wild trail adventures, I can’t say I have much to tell you about running 5 flat miles out and back on a two-lane road in coastal Florida. I will tell you that an energy drink can absolutely make up for the fact that you didn’t sleep the night before but you will trade some of your sanity for that optimization. I can also say confidently that I would have rather been doing Squamish50 instead of redlining my system trying to go sub-40 in a road 5 miler. Racing in an area where the demographics skew older, they tend to do the age group awards in descending order. Which, for me and brochacho, was torture. This race also did age group awards 10 deep. We might be millennials, but we certainly sounded like boomers complaining about too many awards basically being participation trophies. I’m just deeply grateful that I somehow did not get a sunburn waiting around for them to finally announce my age group so I could claim my second-place pint glass and go home (and resist the urge to explain the UTMB-WAM/CMTR debacle to anyone who would listen).

Towards the end of the morning (as I was explaining the UTMB-WAM discourse to my mom, and breaking the news that I would, in fact, register to do Squamish 50M again), she asked if that was my thing now, if I was a trail ultra person. I hadn’t really thought about the ‘types’ of running being separate identities very much before then; I’ve never exclusively done one or the other on purpose, and even this past year in which I returned to the ultra scene, I maintained a few road races on the schedule. Being somewhere where trail races and ultras are not only accessible but same-day sell-out events, was not something I had ever conceived of before I moved to BC. The same scene simply does not, and perhaps cannot, exist in Florida. Watching the community here respond to the corporatization of the trail running scene, I realized how pure of a sport the trail offshoot can be and how the potential ramifications of ‘selling out’ isn’t really a thought in my hometown running scene, for better or worse. I am thankful that I get to have a foot in multiple communities, with distinct flavors and histories, and that I get to experience the very unique pleasures and pains of absurd community driven trail ultras as well as those of obscure hometown road races. Every mile we run takes us to a new place, whether physically or just within ourselves, and with every race or run we become a little more of who we are, no matter where in the world or the terrain underfoot.

[nerdwingblogs]

Uh uh hi

Season 3 of Hilda.

Ok so Hilda. Um. Ok. In order to understand my perspective on Hilda you need to understand one kind of odd thing about me. Here I go. Gonna say this into the Internet void.

I “kin” Hilda.

Not in the sorta-detached-from-reality “I literally think I am a fictional character” way, I just think our personalities are more alike than any real person and any fictional character have a right to be. I feel like we would behave in similar ways in a lot of situations. But also she’s like, more idealized than me? Her world is just…. So much gentler than ours. If I had her world and she had ours I think…. I think I would be almost exactly like her.

Anywho, onto my actual thoughts about season three

I’m only two episodes in but

Hilda Season 3 is just as gorgeous as previous seasons, with its limited color palette and music that makes me want to cry out with longing for something that I’ve never known.

Frida, David, and yes, Hilda, are older now. Teenagers. With new designs. I adore them. I’m so… proud? That my beloved fictional friends are growing up. David’s voice has even changed, which is great because without checking I’m 99% sure he has the same VA? Neat. David as a character seems to have mellowed out some as well since discovering his love for a particular kind of music, and he seems to be more at peace with the always-having-a-bug-on-him thing. Good for him!🥰

They’re visiting Hilda’s great aunt, Astrid, a new character who I already love. She makes these charm things and sells them to tourists. I want to make some now and honestly? They *seem* like the sort of thing I would make. (check my Etsy shop @ TheLovelySkelie If you don’t believe me)

Hilda is desperate for some magical adventure to have in this new place and honestly same girl. Frieda and David just wanna chill which is fine I guess but honestly why are you even friends with Hilda if you don’t wanna go on magical adventures? That’s like her whole thing. Weird bit of tension between them which I found a bit awkward.

Here’s where the major spoilers start, stop now if you don’t want to know anything of importance about Season 3

The main character squad meet Astrid’s neighbor, a Pooka (a shapeshifting creature of Celtic folklore), who has found a Woff egg. If you don’t know what a Woff is think a dog or a wolf but…spherical? And flying? And oddly majestic? Anywho, they go on an adventure to return the Woff egg to its nest, which leads to some absolutely stunningly beautiful scenes with happy Woffs. OH! But not some spooky foreshadowing featuring fairy rings!

Later the gang go camping in Astrid’s backyard and Hilda wakes up to find her great aunt sneaking off to a fairy mound in the middle of the night for some reason. Upon investigating the next day Hilda, Frieda and David end up accidentally trapping themself in some kind of misty spooky fairy realm, patrolled by these one-eyed mushroom-squid things. And….

Ok. I’m gonna be completely honest here. I….Am a tiny bit disappointed by how Hilda behaves in this scene. It’s not…. Out of character to be honest. We’ve seen her flee from some intimidating creatures before, but…. Idk. Has Hilda learned *nothing* from all her adventures? Most of the entities she’s encountered are either intelligent enough to be reasoned with, or are more animal-like but aren’t hostile by nature. She has no idea *if* these mushroom creatures are hostile, and she doesn’t endeavor to find out. Maybe I’m stupid but I hope this is where Hilda and I would differ. I would like to think that I would at least *try* to find out if something means me harm or not before running away.

Back at Astrid’s house, Hilda’s mom is informed by the Pooka that she, Frieda and David are in the fairy realm. Astrid and Johanna(mom) rush to the rescue, retrieving the trio from the fairy realm by literally digging them out of a fairy mound.

Afterwards Johanna is pissed at Astrid for not informing her of the danger, and we learn that Johanna herself actually was lost in the fairy realm once as a child. I…. Feel like this still isn’t the whole story though. Idk, just a feeling. I had some thoughts about it though, and decided that they’re probably all too real-world dark for the scope of this show so probably not.

The gang head back home to Trollburg early, we get a shot of two figures looming over the fairy mound annnnd….. that’s as far as I’ve gotten!

Geez I’ve written a lot. If you’ve finished reading this….. welp I guess you know all my overly attached thoughts about a random ass cartoon now! congratulations?

Hey, you!

If you’re feeling up to it, please reblog this post and ramble about something you’re excited/passionate about or something you find really cool or interesting.

Even if you don’t think anyone else would find it interesting.

ESPECIALLY if you don’t think anyone else would find it interesting.

(Just keep it positive, please!)

Go!

[realunitedairlines]

I forgot what I came here to post. Gimme a second Uhhhh

[monsoon-of-art]

*Blows door off of hinges* I just spent a whole night and an ENTIRE DAY looking through your Pokerus tag after I randomly found your fic on AO3 last night! And I just want to say... Hi.XD I was looking for Ingo fics to help sate the Trainman brainrot I've had since the game came out, and I've found soooooooo much more with your story. Not Ingo brainrot, funnily enough (your story paradoxically seems to have mellowed out my brainot instead of giving me more, if that makes sense?). I LOVE how your story focuses on the community/family dynamic of all of the wardens and leaders, who I always imagined as living separate from their clan to live in the places their Noble does, like Iscan. It also makes Hisui seem kinda smaller, since they can travel back and forth so quickly in a day, but I guess if the leaders can make it to Jubilfe in a few hours at the start of the day like the game implies, that checks out.

But anyway, I did want to ask two things, if you don't mind answering. First, it seems like you are giving pokemon very realistic diets to realworld animals, which I'm all for. Gamefreak seems to avoid at least OVERT references to people and pokemon eating meat(pokedex entries being where it's referenced if at all). It seems they want pokemon to be at least omnivorous tho. PLA even goes so far as to give pokemon a prefered food type you can use to bait them, with things like beans, mushrooms, honey, grains, and salt, as well as the various berries you can use. It's even implied some pokemon eat apricorns, since the spoiled apricorns are said to be half eaten by pokemon. I know realistically not all pokemon might be able to survive solely on these things, and that there might not even be enough vegetation around to sustain bigger pokemon. I'd like to hear your take on this, and more importantly how poeple in you AU feed their pokemon. Do they share the clans/Team's rations, or do they let their pokemon hunt for their own food? If they do feed and take care of their pokemon, then it would be touching to see their partners go out and try to gather food for them before they get too scared off and their humans go feral and see them as food. Or heh, Mai and Ingo's partners trying to indicate that they need meat and blood and trying to teach them to hunt weaker easy to catch pokemon, but their humans are too stubborn/trying to cling to humanity that they resist the advice and hold off until it is far too late and their pokemon run off. Not to be too critical, but the explanation that their diet changes -> they are poor hunters -> they starve and become even more dangerous is just a little too simple to sit well with me. Maybe you just didn't go into too much detail before, but I feel like there are plenty of options to exhaust storywise to lead up to that point. Second(not as long I promise) is I would LOVE to hear your(or anyone's) head canon on how someone with Pokerus would turn into a Rotom. It is literally just a ball of Ball Lightning that can enter and possess appliances. I could see that freaking out anyone that wasn't a Ginkgo Guild member and now I can't get the image of someone in Cogita's safe haven being all 'Yo, I'm a fridge now' when Dawn gets there.XD omfgusbvuou I'm so sorry for the wall of text. feel free to answer these separately if you want.DX

Wow you're right that's a wall of text alright-

So to begin with not technically a question: I don't think the clan leaders and warden eat dinner together every night. There's no way Palina can walk all the way to the main settlement in a few hours. In my mind, they meet up every few days or so to check in with the Leader (important), discuss with the other wardens, get a nice meal. There's just no way for that to be possible every night.

Secondly, as for the diet question: the short answer is just because it's more dramatic and angsty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I'm a huge fan of werewolves and vampires and all that good stuff. TVtropes has a page called "Warm Bloodbags are Everywhere" that fits this very well. If you want a more serious answer, meat is more calorically dense than plant matter, and the clan leaders/wardens/most NPCs are just burning through calories, because transforming takes up so much energy. Otherwise it's just because it's more fun for me, hehe

Finally transforming into a rotom would suck balls because your cells would probably shift into something less corporeal, and your nervous system would go into overdrive to create the electricity needed

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Find the Word Tag Game

(Triple Feature)

(tw: lovey shit, injury, suicide attempt mention)

tagged by: @sleepyowlwrites & @zmwrites & taking an open tag by @drabbleitout!! my words: catch, fast, fall, crack, crafty, fractured, grace, game, guess, gift, groan, elbow, stumble, flower, wrist tagging: @sleepyowlwrites again, @drippingmoon, @ashen-crest, @zmwrites again, @drabbleitout again, anyone who wants to, and the servers at Mellow Mushroom, all of whom I assume are fucken zooted at all times your words: length, late, lay, laugh, lean, lick

catch (Rebirth)—

"No. I don't have time for a full sleep right now."

"Eight hours. I gotta sleep off my bad decisions, and...I kinda like havin' you next to me."

Thrive turned his chair to stare out of the window, thinking as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He absently drew circles with the tips of his fingers on the surface of his table.

"I suppose I could spare eight hours," he said finally, leaving his seat and following Warren out of the room. "It would be wise to make sure nobody's died from alcohol poisoning, anyway."

A bit more celebrating disguised as a well-being check later, Warren and Thrive stood outside of the bedroom, Warren's hand lingering on the handle with heavy hesitance.

"Are you afraid of going back to sleep?" Thrive asked.

"Well, yeah. Those Emmuli...I don't remember much about that experience, but it fucked me up. I'm not looking forward to it happening again."

Thrive placed his hands on Warren's head and hummed a quiet tone, and the last thing he remembered was Thrive catching him as his legs gave out and sudden fatigue overwhelmed him to the point of unconsciousness.

fast (Aurora)—

Then he saw it; the shining horizon, molten metals and minerals spraying in a colossal, violent wave, into the clouds, igniting everything in its path. The planet being torn to shreds from the inside.

Warren ran. As fast as his legs could carry him, as far as he could run. The air started to boil, and the ground beneath his feet undulated with every step and he had trouble keeping upright after a while. The stench of burning chemicals wafted through the openings in the ground, and the ——— combusted.

The others reached the shuttles before him, and he tripped, rolling to a stop, watching the remaining ground support take off into orbit.

The Ganymede team, ———, leaning out of their shuttle to encourage him forward. Guetry took one look at him and vaulted back to the ground, Mercury shouting after him. He pushed forward, pushed himself more than he should've, but he pressed on to get to Warren.

fall (Meridian)—

Scot stayed unnervingly still as he communicated with the ———. The only signs of life coming from him were the stuttered lenses spinning and the flashing facial seams. "Their codes are...not familiar to me. I can't tell where...their commands are coming from, but the signals they've emitted were frequencies intended to act as a dampener for—"

"I don't wanna be a dick, Scot, but please get to the point," Warren said.

"Of course. Their primary objective was to weaken Orthrive'poliea physically and stop him from being able to use his abilities."

In contrast to his stomach falling into his feet, Warren lifted his face to the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut. "...He can't use his abilities."

"Well...they took them away."

"They took them away?" Corin shouted. "What—how—how do you take an obhelian's abilities away?! There is a gland in the brain that's kind of a second brain, the one responsible for the manipulation of physics and changing forms and all that good shit, short of cutting that the fuck out of his head and actually killing him, I fail to see how they have just taken them away."

crack (Rebirth)—

It proved very difficult to enjoy the next few days. Warren spent as much time as possible with Guetry, as did everyone else—except Thrive, who had sequestered himself in his office for nearly the entire time.

Warren passed the room one morning when the door was open a crack, and he listened to find Thrive arguing heatedly with someone he couldn't see. Upon peeking inside, he watched as Thrive dropped himself into his chair, massaging his temple over the desk with his eyes screwed shut.

"The accolades Mr. Sympa is due after a mission of that caliber should be enough to completely cancel out the actions he took to save our lives, Delegate," he said, his voice slightly raised. "The man needs the AI to function, and that is a fact free of hyperbole. It would be equivalent to removing someone's dialysis or pacemaker and expecting them to have any sort of quality of life on their own."

"Perhaps it should excuse him," DeCosta's voice rang in from the wall, "however, that is not how the Earth v. Artificial Intelligence case ruled the seriousness of the possession of such processing power. A single mistake wiped out almost all of twelve entire states and is still spreading around our home world as we speak, even more than a century later. If SCOT had gone rogue or malfunctioned while having control of the Ganymede…"

"He could've flung us into the nearest star while still giving us time to correct the mistake and take over controls manually or purge the entire system," Thrive shot, leaning back in his chair. "And I refuse to believe that your own vessels aren't equipped with a failsafe to protect against a possibility such as that given the proclivity you and the silhou have toward using artificial intelligence to operate your technology. Especially since the silhou helped you build that ship."

crafty astute (Meridian)—

"I have a question," Scot said.

Warren could feel Thrive's breath on his ear, and he suppressed a shudder.

"I realize now may not be the best time to ask, but considering the circumstances...tomorrow isn't a guarantee."

"An astute conclusion to make," Thrive muttered. He smoothed Warren's hair back on his head as he settled into the crook of his arm.

"Warren and I briefly discussed the possibility of an experiment you and I could perform," Scot continued. "Perhaps at a more appropriate time, should there be one."

The speed at which Thrive stroked Warren's forehead didn't change in any way, and a chill bolted down his spine during the short but significant pause.

"An experiment of what kind?"

fractured crumbled (Aurora)—

"Succumb to this," it said, and it threw an arm to slam Warren into the bulkhead, right on his wrist again.

"No," Warren gasped through the stars in his vision. "I'm not...going down without a fight, fucker. You're gonna...have to try a lot harder than that."

"...Good."

The floor crumbled open and Warren fell down, down to every deck and the floor engulfed him at each stop, each pause another wallop into solid metal. His muscles and bones already screamed for relief, and the last fall was enough to knock the wind out of him.

He lost consciousness for a second, but he wouldn't let himself break that easily. He struggled to lift his head and determine his whereabouts.

The shuttle bay. Had he fallen a bit to his left, he would've broken his neck on the top of one of the shuttles.

He could hear the Emmuli in his mind. A loud storm, gale-force winds in his ears.

grace (Eternal)—

Guetry offered a hand. Warren took it, and they sat holding hands for several minutes, not speaking, and the level of affection Warren got from that simple act alone was unlike anything he'd ever felt. This was a ride-or-die friend, a special bond with someone who'd shared trauma and tragedy, seen things neither of them had ever wanted to see but accepted the duties that had been placed onto them with grace.

"So where we headed this morning?" Guetry asked after Warren had already fallen a bit asleep.

"A hospital in the Western Division," Warren said, passing a hand over his face. "Visiting a teammate that got hurt really bad on Veneve. He's been awake a couple of days but I only just got home yesterday."

game (Rebirth)—

Corin burst through the bodies and snatched the bottle from the air. "You have got to be kidding me...." He waved Plio away and took over the bartending job, and Plio made an unimpressed face at him before slinking toward Togun in the back of the crowd.

"...Yes, being together is certainly something to celebrate," Thrive said at length. "However, I'm not entirely sure imbibing is the best way to do so."

"Then you can sit this one out," Warren said, taking a glass from the counter and sniffing its contents. A sharp pang of alcohol combined with an unknown smoky scent invaded his nostrils and he recoiled. "I've earned a wobbly night, in my opinion."

Thrive leaned his hands on the table. "In moderation, please," he sighed, nodding to Roel, who clapped him on the shoulder on his way past with a glass. "Every time you've gotten drunk in my presence has ended poorly for you."

Warren noted the mild shimmery film on the surface of the alcohol. "You've got a point. Anybody up for a drinking game?"

guess (Rebirth)—

Warren began to idly pace the room as Gouna made his exit. "I'll make sure he does his brain training as much as he possibly can, Doc."

Gouna's lips thinned as the door shut him out.

Warren chuckled. "I guess he doesn't like the nickname I—"

As he turned to Thrive again, he faced a blinding light originating from their bedside table. The light exploded outward, projecting hundreds of shapes around them, and Thrive's eyes followed them into every corner and curve of the furniture.

Warren ran his hand through a bright point a foot from his head, cupping it in his palm. He took in the twinkling lights, the large sphere floating in the center of the room. Obviously a planet. Wisps of smoke-like light formed a hazy fog by the window, and one light brighter than all the others hovered over the end table, from where the projection originated.

Thrive looked at Warren again, unfazed by the sudden images of space floating around him in his quarters.

"...That's the orb from the present Ommy gave us," Warren said, pointing to the piercing light in mid-air. He then gestured to the image of the planet. "Is that...Holeph?"

Thrive didn't answer right away, his casual silence very out of place.

gift (Aurora)—

I see the courage your father and his father have given you, and I see the motivation to live that I've given you.

Warren had to curl himself over his own lap to keep his sobs from echoing out into the hall. How ashamed his mother would've been to know he'd lost that motivation somewhere along the way. How disgusted she would've been if she'd been around to watch him waste her gift by throwing himself into a frozen lake with the fullest intention to never resurface. He had to re-read the last part before moving on.

I see the courage your father and his father have given you, and I see the motivation to live that I've given you.

You're going to lose that. And I forgive you.

Blinking back his tears, Warren's eyes went wide.

groan (Aurora)—

"Hey, it's gonna be okay." Corin grinned, though he still appeared somewhat shaken. "You're gonna be fine."

"...I know this," Thrive groaned. "I can't keep up. I need...fluid."

"Workin' on it." Corin took the bag of equipment from Ryst, who'd sprinted full-speed back into the foyer. "What'd you do, boil yourself alive again?"

Thrive barely even reacted when Corin stuck the needle into his arm, closing his eyes and taking a few meditative breaths. "Warren."

"Yeah," Warren said, taking the hand that had been held out to him. "I'm here."

"I apologize for...not being human right now."

A shot of guilt directly to the heart. "You kiddin' me? I told you I don't care what form you're in."

Thrive nodded, and his grip grew weaker. "Right."

Ryst leaned over his prone form. "He's going into preservation."

Warren exhaled through his nose as Thrive's hand dropped away and he fell deep into his emergency healing state. "At least he'll get some rest."

elbow (Eternal)—

"...What did you say?"

Warren's focus snapped to Thrive, who sat in front of him in the office on Tournaltis. A quick glance around told him he was very much not underwater and was, in fact, where he'd been the last time he was definitely conscious of his whereabouts. He discovered with a mild blush that he'd leaned forward in the chair in front of the desk and casually slid back.

"Uh…" He cleared his throat and squinted around the deep, golden glow from the sunset pouring in through the picture window behind Thrive. He parked his elbow on the surface of the desk in an effort to look normal. "I...have no idea."

Thrive's brow furrowed, his fingers hovered over an unfinished message on the screen. "It sounded like you said 'help,' Warren."

"Yeah. I said that 'cause I'm very bored and I was kind of hoping a SWAT team would hear me and crash through the window to my rescue at any moment."

stumble (Eternal)—

A woman stormed out of the house. She was beautiful, with similar facial features to Warren except for her dark brown eyes. Short, with long, jet-black hair in a pleat down her back that swung around as she marched.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded when she reached the car.

Warren shook his head. He was eighteen again, and this was one of his worst memories yet. He tensed up as the woman screamed at him.

"I said what are you doing here, Warren?!"

"Hey, Layla?" he said, turning to her. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

His sister went purple, and Warren swung the car door open right in her face, stepping out as she stumbled backward.

Things went another direction in actuality. In the true memory, Warren sat in his car while Layla yelled obscenities at him, cursing him out for daring to show his face in Arizona, especially so soon after trying to kill himself in Alaska. He was called a coward, selfish, ignorant, and every other word in the dictionary that had negative connotations, and he sat and took it.

flower (Meridian)—

Atoa and the guards, dwindling down in number, led them to the kitchens, the gym, the training room, and finally to the simulated courtyard where a surprisingly luscious garden grew under artificial weather lamps. Vegetables, fruits, flowers of all kinds beautified the space and Thrive looked enchanted, which surprised Warren.

"I smell at least four flowers from Tournaltis," Thrive said, walking past the bench to survey the vegetable area. "And...three from C'o."

"What happened to a good rose, huh?" Warren asked, leaning into a marble pillar.

Thrive paused, reaching over to pull a single orange rose into view past a bush. He looked at Warren.

"Damn," Warren said, smiling. "That was hot, I won't lie."

"You never do," Thrive said, letting the rose move back into place. "Not about that, anyway."

wrist (Aurora)—

The artist brought him back to her chair, asking him what colors he wanted, and soon the needle was in his skin, permanently branding him with Thrive's name in Solnai. The whole process took less than thirty minutes, and Warren happily paid and left, grinning down at the tattoo wrapped in plastic wrap on his finger.

Thrive took his hand to look at it under the light. "She did an excellent job on the character strokes."

"Barely even hurt, too."

Thrive cupped the back of his neck and kissed him. Strong yet gentle, firm and loving. He pulled back and rested their foreheads together. "Thank you," he murmured.

Warren nodded, gripping his wrist tightly.

[dragonsapphic]

cw: drugs / psychedelics

Probably gonna be a long post. Wanted to go over my three experiences using psychedelic mushrooms so far! 🍄💖

🔴 My first trip (little less than 2g) started off a bit uncomfortable, with this sort of rocking back and forth motion like I'm on a boat. I knew from having used weed heavily that I should "give in" to this feeling, so I kinda just closed my eyes and relaxed and tried to allow it to take me. I was sitting there convinced for awhile that I was going to vomit, but that didn't happen.

Once the sickness feeling passed, I was a bit antsy to do something so I decided to play some Overwatch 2. People being trolls or angry didn't really affect me as much as usual, and I kinda just tried to chat and spread good vibes. Eventually I noticed the game looked super "spread out," like the distance between everything seemed much longer than normal. My characters' hands in view felt the same.

That's about when colors started looking REALLY vivid and awesome. I stopped the game and started really enjoying looking at colorful things, like a rainbow worm thing, and a trippy canvas piece I have of my OC, which I discovered is really reactive under a UV light. I became VERY appreciative of art and spent a lot of time just admiring my enamel pin collection or other art pieces. I watched the "Shrimplicity" channel on YouTube, which is just a video of some shrimps with LoFi music... Pretty good.

Spent some time being very introspective, examining myself and the way I respond to things. I felt genuinely bad for people who spend their time getting mad at games and not having the chance to examine themselves like this, but in a calm and accepting way. Overall it felt like a literal vacation from my own mind and physical form, and it seemed to last much longer than it actually did, perhaps even days.

🔴 My second trip wasn't as long or interesting. It was about a week later, I took 2g. I tried taking a bath while tripping and discovered I just did not like it; the water just felt cold to me no matter what, and I felt bored and not particularly interested in anything. I mostly just watched a video of some squids and smoked a bit of weed. It was calm and nice, but also mellow and largely uneventful. I felt in one key moment that the mushrooms "assured me" it would be okay to try tripping again whenever I'd like.

🔴 Third trip, I took 3g. This was only a few days after the previous trip, certainly not ideal, but I trusted the feeling I had when I felt the mushrooms assure me I could try again. Oh my God. I got so high. I wasn't only seeing colors vividly, but shifting colors dramatically, so everything colorful just seemed to have a lazy RGB filter applied to it. There were other texture-y filtures over my vision at times as well.

I had the overwhelmingly strong feeling that there was some kind of entity with me-- the mushroom entity I guess, almost like a god. I really did grasp the concept of religion more than I ever had at this point. The mushroom entity had answers to questions for me that I should not have had the answer to for myself. It seemed to want to look after me, to care for me and make sure I didn't feel alone. I felt very highly sensitive to any touch, as well as the emotions of others. I watched this random driving footage in different cities and I felt like I was looking at buildings for the first time in a totally different mentality, it was pretty wild.

I stayed high for quite awhile and spend a looong time talking with my s/o about different philosophies and worldviews, going from one topic to the next quite quickly if I decided I didn't want to talk about something anymore. It was a really freeing feeling.

Unfortunately I needed to go to sleep for work at this point and was still much more high than I'd expected to get. I tried laying down but closing my eyes was comical; I would clearly see all kinds of random kaleidoscope trippy shit clear in my vision. I had some ambiance playing and it ticked me off. The fan blowing ticked me off. Eventually my s/o had to sleep somewhere else because I just was not going to get to sleep with any sounds in the room at all.

Next day I felt normal. Overall though, REALLY enjoying the experience so far. It's been interesting for me because I have a lot of wildly mysterious shit locked in my psyche and this allows me to explore it and other concepts in such a new way.

Nice job reading all that lol.

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV|21-16: Crane. Oakmoss Vithsyna.)

Harcot was short, even for a Hyur. Oakmoss liked that about him; indeed, she strongly favored shorter men, so long as they dressed well and didn’t act like bullies to compensate for some perceived cosmic slight.

He’d been visiting her regularly over the past forty years or so. In that time, Harcot had aged considerably, while she had not; he was still vigorous and strong where it counted. He’d never gone into detail where he was from, and neither had she, during all of their meetings for his guided vision quests on the northern outskirts of Rabanastre’s suburbs. Gil was his chosen form of payment, which she didn’t mind; it was starting to trickle into the city by way of Yanxia and distant Kugane.

“You’re from a forest village or something, right?” The Veena had learned Eorzean Common from him; she wasn’t aware that his patois was very informal, one associated with beach bums and lifelong ‘herbal remedy’ consumers.  By the time she spoke to other Common-native speakers, they just assumed that’s how her sort of Viera talked, and few were ever made the wiser.  “Like, on the outer edges or something?”

“Yeah, man,” he replied, his voice mellow and gravelly. “Sure. I’m kinda from everywhere though, yanno? Flower petal driftin’ on the winds of love, that’s me, big bunny.” Craning his neck to look up at her, he just kept looking up and up until he toppled back onto the nest of patchwork floor cushions. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that, Maitake? All these years, and I, like, never pried.”

Oakmoss shook her head, the ornamental headdress she wore chiming softly with the motion. “You’re going to die soon, and I’m feeling kinda restless, I guess.” Her accent curled the edges of the casual Common speech; she took another few sips of her mushroom tea, enjoying how it made everything in the room so much brighter, the sunset more vibrant and Present. “Thought I might go pay respects or something, after you stop visiting.”

Harcot took this in stride, feeling the warmth of her intent even if her words didn’t convey it. Their aether had intertwined over the years; when he’d imbibed, he could see it, like two trees adjusting to their branches growing together. Sometimes, when he took the mushrooms that she’d so carefully measured for him, he almost felt as if he could hear whisperings of her forest name; her true name. Maitake wasn’t it, of course; he’d heard her call herself Plum, Sorrel, Oakmoss, Woodear, and more over the decades. It didn’t bother him; she was beautiful, and liked him more than she’d ever let on. That was enough to warm his heart, and his loins.

“Respects are best paid to the living, babe,” he said, undoing his trousers, twitching his erection to make her laugh. “You got all dressed up; can you stay that way while you ride me, make me feel as beautiful as you?”

She sat astride him, the evening light coruscating from the filigreed metal of her headdress. To the pair of them, altered as they were, it felt otherworldly, as if the sun itself watched their union and approved.

[perksofbeingaharrie]

Watermelon Sugar (H.S)

@hsogolden here I submit my entry! 

Thank you for bringing up this writing challenge, it’s gotten me back to writing and it’s all because of you! writing for the #FineLineFicChallenge Hope you enjoy my piece of work and come around for some more!

SUMMARY

Harry has resorted to new methods of album writing and Y/N finds out about it just recently. Her reaction and his reaction are nothing either of them expect. 

Warnings: Mature content ahead. Mentions of sex and magic mushrooms ahead. 

Type: Angst + Smut (bc hell yeah baby) 

Word count: > 3k

Also: with this writing I do not wish to promote the usage of mushrooms or any other drug for that cause. This is meant for entertainment and reading pleasure only. Don’t do drugs kids. 

----------

A strange smell emits from the door every now and then that it is opened. She stands outside, a box of sweet snacks clutched in her hands tight as she contemplates her next move. Jeff stands before her, smiling but something about his smile tells her it isn’t very sincere.

“Harry’s just so into it lately.” He utters, stuffing his hands in his pockets while releasing an awkward chuckle.

She smiles, not quite convinced either. “Of course.”

A beat of silences dispenses any conversation.

“It’s just so loud in there you can hardly talk.” He says again, this time out of the blue, looking down at his shoes.

She eyes him up and down strictly, biting her lip to stop herself from replying while nodding nervously.

He chuckles his awkward chuckle into the conversation again. “He’s hardly even visible to one’s eyes – just locked himself up in that little recording cubicle.”

She nods at him again but then decided to put down her stand too. “I – uh, think I’ll just go in, Jeff.”

“You – you want to?” He fumbles, scratching the back of his neck. The sound of him gulping a little too loud puts away all her apprehension to start a riot.

“Yes, Jefferey. Now let me in.”

Jeff has known that when she begins to call people by their full names, it’s better to let her have her away. He has known and realized this at not one but many instances in the time that he has known her for.

She gestures with her eyes for him to move aside and he does, quietly, obediently and only pinches his eyes close tight when her back faces him.

“Oh, and,” She startles him again. “I got some macaroons. Come on in if you want some.”

“Oh yeah, in a bit.” He gives his silly grin again. She sighs, deliberately towards him and turns to walk into the studio.  Jeff pulls his hands out of his pocket and drops his head in them.

The recording studio is warmer than other times. The lights are dim and mellow as she walks in, and what appears to be a layer of smoke encircles the long corridor towards the door of the music room. She scrunches her nose at the smell from before, breathing loudly from her mouth as if suddenly lacking air to breathe.

She takes the trip down the long corridor, her heart taking a beat faster with every step. The uncanny silence does not help either. Her hands are sweating by the time she is standing before the door and she has to wipe them on her jeans. The smell from before has drawn to quite a prevalent waft around her, and the fact that the room is so sound proof adds up to her anxiety.

She braces herself before she pulls the handle down and opens the door.

A big smoke cloud welcomes her after which follows a loud, high pitched voice of her boyfriend.

“Jefferey!” He exclaims.

She stands at the frame of the door with the door wide open and once the dust settles down, her eyes scan the room.

First and foremost, nobody seems to be at work. The bunch of men, Harry’s precious team – Mitch, Kid, Jeff and some new faces are all gathered on the sofa and the floor, lounging lazily in their places. Secondly, if not at work, the men still seem hard at work – one of them holding up a lighter to another’s face, another one rolling what appears to be the cause of all this smell and almost all of them smoking the finely pressed and prepped joint in between their fingers.

“Baby?”

Her eyes blink once or twice before she regains consciousness from having taken in so much in so little time. Harry’s voice appears distant and she takes a while to locate him in the crowd. He is sprawled on the couch, the joint, now almost extinguished, resting between his thumb and index finger.

“What are you doing here?” He speaks again, this time clearer as he sits up straighten and everyone else follows suit.

She realizes too late how livid she must be looking. Her eyes feel dilated and wide while her lower lips hung low in shock. She feels her breathing tighten and her skin warm and all these reactions at once confuse her as to how she should react.

“I-uh, I thought you were working?” Is what she summons to speak.

“Well, this is work, my darling!” Kid Harpoon jumps to his feet and stands in front of her in an excited gleam, covering Harry from her.

Nevertheless, she sees Harry let out an angsty sigh from his mouth and pinch his joint on the ash tray a little too forcefully.

“This is just some mushrooms – magic mushrooms.” Kid holds up his joint in front of her, and its pungent smell makes her cringe and retract from him. “Works wonders to relax you and open up the creativity wind.” He is too happy as he explains her.

“Hey, Y/N.” Mitch calls out to her from his place on the floor. “It’s nothing too serious – we’re just having fun. It’s alright.” He looks over at Harry, before again at her. “You can join us if you want…?”

“Uh, no!” She says it too fast and too loudly. She clears her throat. “I mean, no, no, I just - I just came by to drop some macaroons.” She lifts the box to Kid’s chest.

“Thanks; mind putting them over there?” Harry crass voice comes from behind Kid’s build.

She feels her chest tighten at the tone of his voice. He appears to be absolutely out, sounding extremely slow and tired – almost as if tired of her. She clearly is not desired here.

Gulping, she takes a few steps back towards the table by the door. “Alright. Guess I’ll leave too. Have…fun.”

She places the box by the table and opening the door, she exits the room with a heavy heart.

“Harry, my brother, you’re in deep, deep – “She hears the voice of one of his friends from the inside but she quickly closes the door on it, rushing to leave the place.

***

It’s been an hour since Harry’s home and locked himself in his studio in the basement. She has been pacing in and out of the kitchen, checking to see her pasta cooking well while at the same time looking over to the clock to see if it is getting too late.

Finally, after relentlessly fighting with him and herself, she decides to scoop some pasta for him in a bowl and carry it down to the basement for him.

The studio down below is dimly lit with yellow lights all over, giving a very warm and artsy feel to it. She walks down the steps and pushes open the half-cracked door to watch her boyfriend standing by his laptop, back facing her, testing through the right tune to fit into the melody.

She lifts her hand towards the door and clicks her knuckles against it. She knows he has heard her but he appears no way near to putting away his instrument or turning around to face her. Irritated, she thumps the plate of pasta on the nearest table to her and walks a few steps into the room and towards him.

“What is wrong with you?” She asks in a small voice, tired, arms crossing over her chest and eyes lulling in pain.

He pays no heed.

“Harry!” She takes another step towards him. “Baby-“

“What is wrong with you?”

Suddenly all music is shut off and only his voice and words echo in the room. His turns around to face her so suddenly, and the bitter look on his face makes her flinch and lean away from him. Harry’s eyebrows are pinched together and his mouth turned down in a frown. She loses her sense for a moment and drops the stern hands that were crossed at her chest before.

He breathes through his nose audibly.

“Why are you meddling in my business?”

She is taken aback. “Harry…”

Watching him this seething and offended has her toes tingling with unease. He has been angry a lot of times in the past too – at himself, at her, at the world, but this tone and demeanor just hits different.

“Why?” His voice softens but it fails to soothe her nonetheless.

She tries to revive her voice again. “I-I just came to see you-“

“Fuck, you didn’t have to!” He raises his voice just then, enough to make her lose her cool too.

She lets out a chuckle in disbelief. “Wha- Bu- but I didn’t even say anything!”

“Well,” He begins. “You didn’t fucking have to-“

“Stop cursing-“

“-because your fucking face said it all.” He completes, surrendering breathless.

She has walked a few steps towards him and stands closer to his face, eyes boring into his blazing ones. She feels her anger pulsate throughout her body.

Watching her put up this fiercely against his harshness has his expressions soften up and as he realizes their proximity, he says in a smaller voice –

“You looked disgusted, you did.” He gulps.

She shakes her head, breaking out of her iron face act. Lifting her hands slowly from her sides, she pulls at his wrist.

Somewhere in the moment, she feels his distress. He must be embarrassed, he must feel ashamed and she sympathizes with him.

“No…” she whispers to him, moving closer. “I just didn’t know you were into stuff like this and –“

He breathes heavily through his mouth, turning his face away from her. She regrets suddenly what she said, but the regret comes with another confusion as to why would something like this offend him enough to react this way.

“- and I was just concerned, baby, please look at me.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head and looks back at her.

“No, no, no,” He clutches her arms tightly. “Can’t you see I am fine! Why are you worried about me, why are you concerned?”

“Because I love you and I care for your well-being and I wouldn’t want you to get into something that’s not good -“

“Christ!” He drops his hands to his sides with a loud sound. “This is fine what I am doing, alright? It’s not something illegal or wrong, just please, stop.”

She sighs, nostrils flaring. “Then why were you hiding it if it wasn’t something wrong!”

“Hiding? No, I wasn’t!”

“Then why was Jeffery posted outside the studio like a watch dog and not letting me in!”

His face twists in a look of absolute astonishment. “Wha- what? No...” He slaps his hands on his face. “Christ! Because Jeffery is a fucking idiot!”

She moves back from him, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Harry, I seriously don’t know anymore.”

“Fine!” He grabs his jacket from the console and moves towards her. “End of this topic. I have nothing to say to you and we’ll never speak of this again, that’s it.”

Storming out of the room, he leaves her alone muddled with her own genuine thoughts and his stubborn words.

***

She ushers over to their bedroom later that night. They haven’t spoken since the heated argument in the basement – moreover, he hasn’t bothered to leave the bedroom since then and she hasn’t summoned up to go over there.

But her father has always told her to never go to bed angry with someone, and so she can’t think about a blink of a sleep tonight.

She slips through the door to find him sleeping on the bed with his back to her side. Quietly sliding under the covers, she moves closer to his body, his back from one shoulder to another before her standing mighty like a mountain. She hesitates at first but then slowly places her chin on his shoulder, waiting for him to budge or even budge her away.

His body tenses at her single contact, but soon eases again. However, he abstains from showing any reaction in any way. This prompts her and she slides closer to his body even more now, wrapping her one arm around his torso and letting her front touch entirely against his back and hip, clinging onto him like a snail.

“Mmhmm.” She mumbles against his skin, touching her lips to his shoulder and neck in tender kisses. “Harry.”

He deems no reply.

“I think you’re stretching it a bit too much, don’t you think.” She says, lifting her head over his shoulder to look at his face.

“I am not, you are.” He says with his eyes closed and expressions flat.

She snorts, pushing her head against his back.

“I don’t get what is so great about these magic mushrooms thingy that you’re defending it like it’s your child and ignoring me, enough to make me want to cry.”

“Aah ha.” He tuts. “There. There. There comes your judgmental tone again that I do not like.”

She sighs, giving up, tired and defeated. Silence descends for a moment between them. Neither does she make a move nor does he try and look out for her. She remains static as she is, head dropped in anguish.

Harry on the other hand grows wary of the situation. He knows he is hurting her and he himself feels he has had enough of this but his own conflicts and an ego as big as the mountains demands him not to surrender. He himself admits that he can be an arrogant son of a bitch at times.

Suddenly, he feels her stir again. He gulps and anticipates what she intends to do. She runs the tip of her nose against the back of his neck in a pattern, stopping to place a kiss right at the spot where she knows he has him hard. His breathing alters in a minute as she begins tracing patterns with her lips on his shoulder, his body hardening, all ready to give in.

“Sleep with me.” She rubs his fingers along his sides, scratching his skin and threatening to go down below.

He summons his voice. “I am sleeping with you.”

His voice, so devoid of emotions, breaks her strength. He is acting, but she can hardly tell.

“No.” She mewls, snuggling her face to the back of his ear. “I want you to hold me.”

He gulps. “I don’t feel like it.”

Her mouth drops in an exasperated sigh. “That was very rude of you.”

“Well, you were rude too.”

At this point, she knows he has taking full advantage of her vulnerability. She can tell by his voice now that he is having a good laugh too.

“Harry!” She shoves at him, whining. When he doesn’t bother to turn to her and only lets out a sneaky chuckle, she breaks down.

“Okay, fine!” She says loudly. “I am sorry. Do whatever you want to do. I won’t say a word anymore. You were right. You know what’s best for you and when I am trying to have a say in anything, I am intervening, which I should not. So, I will keep shut from now. Alright?”

“Ah ha ha.” He mocks, finally sitting up and turning to her. She looks nowhere near pleased or convinced, but her pouting face has him melting.

He grabs her cheeks and pulls her to him, kissing her lips. In desperation, she moves closer, straddling him and pulls him in a for a full makeout sesh. As his hands travel down to her behind, grabbing her with his full hands and pulling her closer to him, her hands travel to the back of his neck to anchor his jaw as she works her lips on him.

He groans as she slips her tongue into his mouth, the front of his pants tightening to see her so delirious and needy for him. He relays back as she works up on his neck and jaw, her teeth grazing against his skin and making him grab onto her tighter to resist tearing apart her nightie and taking her right then and there.

Finally, with a resolve, he pulls her face to look at her again and they break into a small grin, breathless.

“You dog.” She curses, pulling him to her to stick their foreheads together as they catch their breaths.

“You’ve got to trust me, okay? I know what I am doing and I promise it won’t be anything that harms me, hm?” He tells her, rubbing his hands up and down her sides in a soothing gesture.

“Mmhmm.” She nods, distancing their faces to look him in the eyes. They smile again at each other and her fingers travel up to his face to trace along his features in patterns that he enjoys.

He chuckles, ducking to kiss between her breasts, and for his lips to carry on up till her neck to her face again.

“Do you ever want to try those mushrooms with me?” He asks in a raspy voice, peppering her jaw with his kisses.

She snorts, making a face. “No, thank you.”

Suddenly he pulls her hands away from him and hold them behind her, distancing himself to give her a grave look. She cringes, looking at him with confused shot eyebrows.

“Look at you.” He says, eyes bawling as they scan her face. “You are being rude again!”

He lets her go, falling flat behind on the bed on his back and lifting his arms to cover over his eyes.

She takes a moment to process everything and when she does, her head falls back in a loud groan.

“God, Harry…aah!” Her groans end in squeals when he pulls her back on top of him again, laughing at her reaction.

***

It’s ‘bring in your partners to work’ day today at the studio so the tiny space is filled with more people, talking loudly and drinking from cups as they listen and watch the musicians get to work.

The working men are gathered at one corner, and the other corner all their better halves chat about and watch them at work. Y/N is squeezed between Glenne and Meredith, the happy girl group giggling at their silly talks and pulling pranks at their beaus.

As she finishes her second cup for the evening and makes her way to pour some more, Y/N is crossed by someone carrying a box of wrapped joints in them. She suddenly chokes up on her breath and quickly gives him the way to walk through. With a lighter pace, she reaches the drinks table and turns around to see the culprit – Kid Harpoon, distributing the joints amongst everyone.

All of them throw their heads back and laugh as they accept the joints, lighting it easily with their own lighters in hand. She doesn’t remember pouring herself what drink, but as she slowly gulps it while watching the scene before her, she suddenly chokes up from the bitterness and coughs, drawing attention to herself.

All eyes turn up to her. She smiles timidly, catching Harry’s apprehensive lip bite in her direction, and slowly walks over to where she was standing before. But it is an even bigger disaster up there.

Glenne brings up her part of the joint and takes a long drag, releasing and bursting into a chuckle along with which she pulls Jeffery to her and kisses him. When they are through with their moment, she cheekily turns towards Y/N and pushes the joint towards her.

“You wanna try? It’s relaxing.”

Y/N eyes look up and down from her friend to the joint offered to her. She only begins to stutter a reply when another encouragement comes from somebody else. And then another and another and she is left a mess between all the coaxing.

“Don’t.” Harry’s voice sounds louder amongst all of this chatter. “Don’t force her if she doesn’t want to.”

She looks up to him in anticipation of a consoling look, but he barely turns his eyes up at her, and with a resigning sigh, he returns to the control panel he was firmly stuck to since the beginning.

She gulps, biting on her lips hard.

“Actually,” she suddenly finds her voice the loudest in the room. “I think I’d like to try.”

Everybody in the room hoots in encouragement. She chuckles at Meredith as she feels her hand pat her lower back and gives a shaky smile to Glenne who passes her the joint.

“Darling, darling, darling.” Kid jumps up before her. “You are very brave but still don’t feel coaxed into it. Know that none of us are responsible to what you do after the first drag.”

Everybody in the room laughs, and so does she, heartily.

“Let me help you with it.” Kid maneuvers her around as to how to take her first, going step by step with a side by side demonstration.

She hasn’t looked up meet Harry’s eyes, who now stands right before her as she is about to take her first joint in her mouth. She closes her eyes and follows about as Kid had directed her to: suck in the smoke through your mouth and let it travel down your neck and pinch around your throat; feel the coolness of it, then slowly let it release from your mouth; feel the burn in your chest and leisure in the kick that is felt to your brain and just release all the smoke out.

She opens her eyes and feels like in a different dimension. Her eyes first meet Harry’s, who is standing before her in awe of her first reaction. She looks magnificent – raw and red, shining and golden in glee, her eyes and body loose like overcoming the euphoria of a hearty orgasm. He knows the look; it’s even more dangerous than her sensuous one because she looks so vulnerable and oblivious and that makes him lose control.

“Good?” She feels the buzzing of someone’s voice in her ear. She nods, giggling like a child.

With her eyes still trained on Harry, she takes another drag and melts in the ecstasy of the mushrooms, taking Harry into the state with her.  

All her friends hoot again and the joint is taken from her hands. She feels a pat on her head and laughs at everyone’s reaction, and in a moment that she takes her eyes off of Harry, she loses sight of him.

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

She jumps out of everyone’s grab and makes her way onward in search of Harry. Luckily, she didn’t need to go far as she finds him in the balcony, leaning by the railing with a drink in his hand and looking towards her as if in wait of her.

She grins, jumping towards him. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him, smiling back at her upturned face.

“Why’d you do that?” He asks.

She touches their nose together, whispering to his face. “Because I wanted to.”

Their noses slide against one another, mouths breathing over one another.

“Won’t you ask me how it was?”

He shakes his head at her question. “I could see it.”

“See how it felt?” She asks in a childlike amusement. He nods, chuckling.

She slides her face further towards his, slipping past his sleek cheekbones to his ears.

“I want to do those mushrooms with you, Harry.” She admits in a small voice.

He pulls her even closer to him and buries his face in the smell of her hair, nodding slowly.

“I think it’s time for that.”

In a split, he has pulled her away from the crowd and noise of the studio. He takes along and lighter and a joint on the way and locks the two of them in the small bathroom situated at the back of the studio.

She slides into the space and sticks her bottom to the edge of the sink slab, pulling Harry towards her. Their lips melt in a long kiss, her hands falling back to anchor her weight against the granite slab. He pulls away for a moment to pull out the joint and lighter, placing them in his hands before her. His lips meet hers in pecks, kissing along her cheeks and the trail down to her neck, before meeting her eyes again and grinning giddily.

“Watch me.”

He takes the joint in his mouth, bringing the lit lighter to the end of its length. The joint catches fire immediately and he discards the lighter behind her, puffing the joint in between his lips.

She watches in awe as he takes in a lazy drag, pulling out to breath out the smoke above their heads. Her hands find their way up to his chest as he takes another smoke, watching him with concentration when he releases his breath against her face.

The effect has her gasping and him chuckling at her reaction.

He hands her over the joint next, leaning his lower body to hers even more and supporting his waist by his hands on the counter behind her. She takes the joint, looking him in the eye with a glint in hers and takes a long drag.

When she breathes out, she does it too fast and for long and ends up in a coughing mess. He laughs, patting her head and taking the joint from her again.

He points her to look at him and breathes in the joint. Then, he taps her mouth to open and she does, allowing him to breath the smoke out in her mouth. The slight touch of their lips and the smoke has her skin tingling and she throws her head back in pleasure.

He takes the moment and peppers her exposed neck with his lips, sliding his tongue along the length and scooping her skin at the base with his mouth. She groans, grabbing his hair with one hand and using her other hand to snatch the joint.

She takes one drag and releases, pushing her lower hips to his and grinding her groin to his. They are a moaning mess by then.

He looks up at her face as she takes another smoke, breathing out in his face with finesse. Their lips meet again, senses now all lull and detached as they meet in a sloppy kiss.  

“Your mouth tastes so good.” He says in between the kiss. She moans a reply, the joint falling right off of her hand as they go up to wrap around his shoulder.

He grabs her hips, pushing her against the sink slab and on top of it, spreading her legs enough to stand in between them. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her to kiss him again, sliding his other hand down to the zipper of her jeans.

She slips right off the sink as his palms slides into her panties, fingers finding her wet core with ease. His rubbing and touching rubs off her patience bad as she pushes herself further towards him, grinding against his fingers. Before she can fathom what is next for her, he sinks to his knees before her, undoing her jeans and sliding her panties down her legs. He spreads her legs again, guiding her to anchor against the edge of the sink and dips his head in between her thighs.

Her head is thrown back at the feel of his tongue against her throbbing core. She jitters as his tongue works its way on her, her one hand grabbing onto his hair and the other slipping in between her teeth. She feels her orgasm approach already, the high facilitating the mind-blowing climax that awaits her.

But he pulls away then, standing to his feet and undoing his own jeans. She groans and pulls him to her, kissing his mouth in anticipation.

“Sweet. Like strawbe-rries and other be-rries and wa-termelons and…” he slurs in between the kiss, making her laugh.

She pushes her finger against his mouth and shushes him. “Shh…just fuck me, please.”

“Mmhmm.” He groans against her mouth, eyes half shut. “Feel me in your belly, hmm?”

In a moment, he enters her with a painful thrust. She is thrown back against the sink, her arms coming to wrap around his neck in support. He moans from the throbbing of her core against his skin, encouraging to feel all the way till the bottom. He grinds in a slow rhythm, making every stroke count as she is pushed into her earnest climax in the most pleasurable manner.

The sun rises. She blooms and shudders like a flower under him. Her core drips from the remnants of his touch but he doesn’t stop.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

She feels like a cozy summer evening. She feels like a high he never thought he’d get. And the night goes on and on and on.  

[petri808]

@bnhahorrorweek Post apocalypse prompt/ non-quirk characters. Threw this one-shot together for this prompt. 🙃 Bakudeku. Sorry my edits suck lol.

It’s been two years since the world imploded and left survivors struggling to just stay alive. No one knew exactly how it began, but many suspected it was man made. When the United States declared war on China, and the world sided against the falling superpower, the country retaliated... soon stories began popping up about people becoming zombie-like and attacking with no hesitation as if all conscious reasoning was gone. The coincidence was how it started in areas being bombed by the U.S., first Asia, Europe, but as with most viruses, it spread quickly through the infected until there wasn’t a country on Earth left standing.

Izuku Midoriya was in his senior year of high school at the time, but once the virus hit Japan, chaos broke out. In the dense cities like Tokyo, it was like a wave washing through that quickly jumped to surrounding cities including Shizuoka where he lived with his mother. Within a matter of weeks the entire island country was engulfed by these soulless beings. He’d lost everyone he knew, his classmates, friends, and after a month of running, his mom when they’d been ambushed sneaking through the subway tunnels.

Perhaps it was his smaller size that was to his benefit. Growing up Izuku was teased for being a shorter, gangly kid, but when the goal was hiding, it became an asset. He was smart and a quick learner, who figured out the best ways to stay out of sight from the roving hoards. These things weren’t dead like most zombie movies tended to portray. The virus infected and destroyed the upper portions of the brain leaving just the brain stems that controlled basic life functions. It generally resembled a mutated syphilis strain, but 10 times worse with no cure, and no way to stop it once it took control. All the zombies knew to do was eat, and eat, and eat.

By the end of the first year, Izuku realized that constantly being on the move had some detriment, so when he came across an abandoned apartment building built with brick walls, he decided to create a fortress for himself. It took some time working only when the creatures weren’t around, but he reinforced the second floor apartments with steel and blacked out the windows. Once the outside was secured, Izuku broke through walls to connect the apartments together.

Maybe he’ll run into another survivor one day. There must be others, but since he didn’t travel far from his base camp, it was wholly possible he’d simply never come across one. Even now almost two years later, he was only a stones throw away from his original home is Musutafu. It was a lonely existence and there were many days when he wondered if it was worth it to keep living like this. Working on his new ‘home’ was the only thing that helped to keep his mind from slipping into depression, and he was quite proud of his accomplishments. Breaking through the ceiling, he managed to rig a pipe to the roof that collected rain water and funneled it into a plugged bath tub. Similar venting allowed him to build a make shift hearth for fires, handy during the colder months and to cook with.

They were truly back to the stone ages now. All the skills many take for granted, simple things like how to sew or forage for edible plants, he had to learn. No more electricity, meant no more quick entertainment, so he raided a nearby bookstore for things to read. Over time, Izuku settled in for the long haul, just concerning himself with finding supplies, keeping occupied, and most of all, not losing his sanity.

Until one day, while returning to his home, Izuku heard a noise and ducks low behind a broken down vehicle. It had only been a quick trip to a close by hardware store. He watched, readying his weapon in case of an attack. Crap! He’d left the fire going in the apartment for heating, so had the smoke attracted a zombie?

A human walks out from around some parked vehicles. At first he can’t tell if it’s a zombie or not, because the person’s attire hid their features. But the longer he watched their movements, the way they walked cautiously, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, Izuku started to wonder if it could be a survivor! It was a dangerous move to break cover, but after surveying the area and not seeing anyone else, he decided to get the persons attention. If it was a zombie there was still enough space between them to get away.

Izuku popped his head over the car and whistled once for 10 seconds. The person stopped and turned in his direction, but just stood in place staring. So he whistled a second time, while standing completely upright and clearly visible. He waved, signaling he was a normie, so the man lowers the hoodie of his jacket.

“K-Kacchan?!” He breathes out. No way! Of all the people to run into, but his long lost childhood friend?! The mans hair was a dirtier blonde now, shaggier and disheveled, but those red eyes were unmistakable. Izuku steps forward, slowly moving towards the man. “Kacchan, is that really you?”

“Deku? Pfft, figures you’re the first live human I find.”

Another sound, distant, but real catches Izuku’s alert attention. He grabs the man by the arm. “It’s not safe here,” his voice is low as to not attract attention. “Follow me, I’ve got a safe place.”

Possibly tired of travel, Katsuki Bakugou follows the smaller male into the secured apartment building. He watches in fascination as Izuku takes them through a stairwell with multiple metal gates that looked added on, until they reach the main entrance.

“Welcome to my home,” Izuku smiles and ushers Katsuki inside.

“Tch, not bad nerd,” The blonde surveys his surroundings. “You set this all up yourself?”

“Yup. Took awhile but I reinforced the top half of the building.” He shows Katsuki each room. “An area for cooking, this is where I gather and store rain water. So if you wanna take a towel bath you can. Here’s where I sleep, and finally my storage area. I think I have clothes in your size if you need something fresh to wear.”

“Think I’ll take you up on the bath first.”

“S-Sure!” Izuku grabs his friend a towel and hands it to him along with a fresh set of clothing. “I’ll be working on a dinner in the meantime,” he smiles.

“Thanks Deku.”

Izuku was on cloud nine! It’d been years, long before the apocalypse hit that he’d ever spoken with Katsuki in a civil manner. The man seemed to have mellowed out, but of course an event like this one was bound to change people. He was just thrilled to have found a survivor and even happier it was someone he knew. By the time Katsuki came out of the bath area cleaned and dressed, Izuku had whipped up a small meal for the two of them.

“Hope your hungry,” Izuku smiles and presents a plate to his friend. “I got lucky and caught a wild hare in my trap yesterday.”

Katsuki takes the plate and sits down on a rug. “How do you have fresh vegetables?”

“I grow them on the roof.” Izuku sits down across from the man with his own plate. “Tomatoes, sweet potatoes, mushrooms, and onions so far, but I’m working on soybeans too. Tell me Kacchan, where have you been all this time?”

“I was in Osaka visiting an uncle when this shit hit, then the bastards killed my parents last year as we tried to get back home.”

“I’m sorry Kacchan,” Izuku’s voice softened, “I lost my mom too a month after it hit.”

“Looks like you’re doing well though.” Katsuki looks around. “Seems a pretty safe hold out.”

“It’s better than the streets. Luckily the zombies are dumb. You know, you’re welcome to stay. There’s plenty of room for two people.”

“I don’t wanna impose...”

“You’re not imposing Kacchan. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to aside from myself.”

“Alright, I’ll stick around since it beats the elements. Am I the first person you’ve seen?”

“Yeah, alive any way. I’ve run into people we knew but they’re all zombies now.”

“Tch, I mean to live now, then die as one of the last humans on this plant? This blows.”

“I try not to think about that and rather take any positive thing I can cling to.”

“Always the optimist Deku.” Katsuki laughs. “Even with a disaster you never change.”

As the hours grow late, Izuku suggests they pull out an extra mattress he has in the storage room for his friend to sleep on. But Katsuki points to Izuku’s Queen sized bed. “Why? We both fit, and besides it’s warmer this way, right?”

Izuku stammers as his face turns red. “I-I guess, as long as you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind, do you?”

“No.” He did, but it was just his nervousness over sharing a bed with a guy he once had a crush on.

“Good, cause I’m exhausted.” Katsuki slips under the blanket and pats the bed. “It’s late, let’s get some sleep.”

“O-Okay...” Izuku put out the fire and climbed under the covers, but turns on his side away from the man.

“Pfft,” Katsuki spoons up to Izuku, “supposed to keep each other warm remember,” he wraps his arm around and pulls the man close. “Nite, nerd.”

‘Ahhhh! What is going on?!’ “G’night Kacchan.” If this was how he’ll spend the rest of this apocalypse... guess it wasn’t so bad anymore.

[phantoms-lair]

FFBT - Sister Act

Commission for @bruce-bannerd

“Yeah Mom, sounds good. Next week, 2:00.” Shaggy hung up the phone. He was fine. Everything was fine.

He was already going fuzzy, wasn’t he? This did not bode well.

“Like Scooby, call the gang! It’s an emergency!”

~~

Though he was more comfortable with himself than he had been not too long ago, it was rare to see Shaggy in full wolf mode outside the full Moon. But there he was, curled up against Velma, fretting.

“Okay Shag, we all want to help, but we need to know what’s wrong.” Fred said gently, holding Shaggy’s paw-like hand.

It took the werewolf a few tries to get the words out. “So, like, apparently last week they found black mold at Sugies school after a lot of the kids got sick.” Really badly sick. “Mom, like, didn’t want to worry me until she got Sugie’s medical results back. She’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. His baby sister getting seriously ill while he couldn’t even be there for her would have wrecked him badly.

“Yeah.” Shaggy squeezed Fred’s hand and curled deeper into Velma. “So they, like closed the school building and they’re going to do the rest of the year online. But that doesn’t affect the campus Mom works at, so she’s can’t be home with Sugie and doesn’t want to leave her home alone all day, and Dad’s still on deployment so-”

“Rugie’s romming rere.” Scooby finished.

“And I don’t know how to hide this,” he gestured to himself.

“I don’t think you can.” Fred pointed out. “You’re too worried about her.”

Shaggy sighed. “But what if she’s scared of me?”

Daphne laughed softly. “Shaggy, not one person who’s seen you like this has been scared of you.” Scared for him maybe, but never of him. “I don’t think Sugie’s going to break the trend.”

~

In retrospect, Velma was glad she hadn’t burned that hoodie. She had been tempted, sure, it was a symbol to her of the self-loathing Shaggy had felt. Now it may have been unseasonably warm, but was good for hiding if Shaggy suddenly sprouted fur or pointed ears. Which normally wasn’t a problem, but he was so worried it might be there was a risk of self fulfilling prophecy.

“Shaggy!” A blue bundle of energy hopped off the train and wrapped her arms around her brother.

He hugged her back and felt something in the wolf leap for joy. He was almost tempted to grow a tail just so he could wag it. A piece of his family was with him again! “Missed you, Sugs.”

“Missed you too, bro.”

Velma picked up the suitcase where Sugie had dropped it, grinning at how happy Shaggy was. “We’re going to pick up lunch on the way home. Any place you’d like to go Sugie?”

“Mellow Mushroom! I wanna get a multi-mushroom pizza and the mushroom soup!”

“Craving mushrooms?” Daphne asked, hiding a giggle.

“I shall eat fungus as an act of revenge.” Sugie said with the solemness only a twelve year old could muster.

Shaggy thought a moment. “Grilled Portobellos for dinner?”

Sugie squeezed him again. “And this is why I love you bro, you get me.”

~

They sat curled up in the living room, food half consumed, when Velma started giving Shaggy a meaningful look he couldn't avoid. He wanted to argue that it could wait until after lunch, but knew that he’d just keep avoiding it if given half the chance. He sighed and put down his pizza slice. “Sugie, there’s something we need to talk about. Some stuff has, like, changed since you and Mom left.”

“If you’re telling me you got a girlfriend, I don’t believe you.” Sugie said, attention still on her pizza.

Shaggy rolled his eyes. Yes, but that wasn’t the point. Okay, like a band aid. “Sugie I’m a werewolf.”

This at least got her to pause in her pizza eating. “Seriously?” she said in a tone that bespoke more ‘So you you really expect me to believe that’ rather than ‘You're really a werewolf’.

“It’s been an interesting past few months.” Fred allowed.

“Uh-huh.” Sugie’s attention was back on the pizza, clearly not believing a word of this.

Velma sighed. “Sugie look at your brother.”

She did and dropped her slice of pizza, which was snatched by Scooby before it hit the ground. “Shaggy, you...you-”

Shaggy ducked in on himself, more self-conscious about going full werewolf than he’d been in months.

“That is SO AWESOME!” Sugie was practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh man, can I touch your ears.” She reached her hand forward only to have it stopped by Daphne.

“You’ve been eating pizza. Wash your hands first.” She chided.

“Wash my hands?” Sugie asked in disbelief. “My brother is a werewolf and you want me to worry about washing my hands?”

“Would you want someone running greasy fingers through your hair?” Daphne shot back. 

Sugie looked at her mulishly, but got up to head to the bathroom.

“Like was that really necessary Daph?” Shaggy asked. “Have you ever tried to wash grease out of hair? Yes.” Daphne said vehemently.

“I’m really sorry that trap backfired.” Fred apologized.

“It was an accident.” Daphne kissed him. 

“Okay, hands clean, it is petting time!” Sugie declared. She didn’t even bother getting back on the couch, just came up behind it and started scratching behind Shaggy’s ears like she’d done with Scooby all her life. He leaned into the touch, clearly treasuring the contact.

“This is so cool.” Sugie whispered.

“You don’t think it’s, like, weird?” Shaggy asked.

“Oh it’s weird, but in the best way.” Sugie was still grinning. “What did Mom and Dad say?”

It was the wrong thing to say as she felt her brother tense under her fingers, the thumping of the tail against the back of the couch stopping. “Bro?”

“You can’t tell them.” he begged, “Promise me Sug.”

“It’s a conversation best had in person.” Velma explained. “Having your family upset at you is painful for werewolves, so we want to do it when we’re here to soften the potential blow.” Yes it was glossing over the more serious aspects of what could happen, but the fact that rejection could equal death for her brother was a heavy thing for a preteen, especially one who’d just gone through something as traumatic as what had happened with the mold.

“Hmph. Well, I guess that means I gotta be the problem child if you’re stuck being the good one. Way to be a teenage werewolf and have it be boring.” Her words were in a mischievous tone, but followed with a hug. “I won’t tell Shaggy. Promise.” And she meant it.

“Told you it would be fine.” Velma said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Sugie straightened up. “Wait...wait...what was that?”

“A kiss,” said Velma with a smirk. “You know, something girlfriends do to their boyfriends and vice versa.”

“Oh no. No no no. The werewolf deal is one thing but a girlfriend? How? And Velma? She’s smart?” Sugie sounded super offended.

Everyone laughed, even Shaggy. The fact that Sugie was far more upset over him having a girlfriend over being a werewolf was unexpected, but welcome nonetheless.

Everything was going to be okay.

[elisende]

Predators (1/2)

Characters: Halsin/FOC Rating: M Words: 2655 Long before becoming the first druid of the Emerald Grove, Halsin is a hotheaded, aimless youth struggling to control his anger and alienation. When a mysterious druid saves him from a great bear, he sees a path to another life. Even the High Forest was a lonely place for a wood elf with no kinfolk to speak of--none still living. Most of his kind had left for Evermeet or for the teeming cities of the east. Neither appealed to Halsin.

He roamed the great forest that was his birthright, scavenging what scraps could be found on the edges of the human settlements that encroached, year by year, like some choking vine.

And he grew from adolescent to adult over the twenty winters of his wandering, broadening across the shoulders, shooting up to a height that others seemed to find incredible. The humans around the villages he haunted took to calling him the Tailhleach, “the tall walker,” in their strange tongue. They feared him as some sort of half-man, half-beast, a spirit protector of the forest. The myth was a useful one: it meant he went mostly undisturbed, except when the occasional foolhardy youth took it upon himself to hunt down the beast. But Halsin had his own ways of staying the sword arms and bows of overeager hunters.

These conquests, too, became part of his legend.

Now fully grown, he had become, in a word, complacent. There was nothing in the forest, man or beast, that could challenge him. So he thought, with all the arrogance of the young.

Halsin’s appetites often led him from one part of the forest to the other in search of delicacies: truffles, chestnut honey, blackberries. Today he was foraging for mushrooms: the orange rilled ones so good they could be eaten raw, as soon as they were dusted off. The mushrooms preferred this part of the wood, the wet brambly hillside that was often choked in fog.

Nothing seemed amiss as he scanned the forest floor for their distinctive convex caps.

He was deaf to the crackling of dead leaves, the faint but audible snap of a twig, the rustle of disturbed undergrowth and even the snort of the curious bear as it approached his crouching back.

It was only when the beast’s breath disturbed the hair on Halsin’s head that he whirled around, startling the great bear. For one moment that felt like a century, they stared, nose to nose and eye to eye: elf and bear, locked in the fatal glance of prey and hunter.

Then the bear roared, its fear exploding to rage like dry tinder under lightning’s forked tongue. Halsin was so close that he could see the ridges on the bear’s bright canine teeth, taste its meaty breath. A young bear, he thought stupidly. He began backing away, all the while watching the beast.

The great bear stood on its hind feet and flattened its ears. It made as though to charge but it was only a feint, a test of Halsin’s resolve. He stopped. Anger building alongside his terror, he bellowed at it, swung the slim oaken branch he always carried with him.

But the bear wouldn’t be intimidated. It had no inkling of his fearsome reputation. His rage was only fuel for its own.

It swiped, claws scraping Halsin’s flesh from his hairline down to his left eyebrow. His vision went red and by instinct he swung his club. He only hit the bear by luck, the same luck that had saved his left eye.

It backed away and lowered its head, ears flattened. This would be a true charge and he stood little chance of surviving it, given the bear’s size.

He stood, waiting, in a defensive crouch, holding out his makeshift club, blood pouring down his face. But just as the bear started to charge, a warning growl sounded from the chestnut grove beyond.

Almost comically, the bear quirked its head. The growls continued and the bear moaned in reply, as though in conversation with it.

The rage melted from the beast’s eyes and it pawed the air as an elven woman appeared in the gloom. She lowed at the bear once more and the bear, incredibly, seemed almost to chuckle.

“What are you--”

“He says you’re after his mushrooms again. Whenever you come here, you leave nothing for the others who reside in this wood. He thinks it's rather rude,” the elf said. As she came closer, he saw the crest of Silvanus on her broach. A druid, then.

He laughed incredulously, wiping the blood from his face. “I’m rude? That bear--”

“His name is Sage.”

Halsin paused, collecting his thoughts. The druid was very lovely, as a moonrise over a pine forest is lovely, or a bird of prey on the wing, or the river’s rush after first thaw. Hers was a stark, unadorned beauty. “That bear-- alright, Sage--was about to kill me,” he finally said, failing to keep his voice level. He was still trembling with his fear and anger. The two never could be parted, for him; they were like smoke and flame.

“His kind have been killed for far less,” she said. Her tone was neutral but he could see a warning glint in her amber eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked, his curiosity overtaking his consternation. “There is no Circle for twenty leagues.”

“No indeed,” the druid said. He could tell she did not enjoy speaking of herself; her words took a rote quality. “I’m posted here for a task that has taken me some years, and will take more still to complete.” She tilted her head, looking inquiringly at him. “Like Sage, I’ve also noticed that you claim more than your share from this wood.”

“You’ve been watching me.”

“You are hard to avoid. You trample through the wood like it's your bedchamber.”

He colored ever so slightly when she said the word bedchamber. The bear, Sage, groaned as if in agreement. The druid walked over and patted him on the head, whispering something in his rounded ears. Halsin felt absurdly jealous at the intimacy, even as his wounds began to throb.

As was often the case, he found himself speaking before he knew precisely what he was going to say. He knew only that he was drawn to the druid. “I can help you with your task, whatever it is, if you teach me in exchange. I would like to learn the ways of the druids.”

She didn’t laugh outright, at least. The druid seemed even to consider it. But then, finally, she said: “No, I haven’t the inclination for such an arrangement. I live alone by choice as much as by necessity.”

And without so much as a fare thee well, she vanished back into the wood. Sparing a quick backwards glance at the now mellow bear sniffing the orange mushrooms, Halsin followed.

*

He trekked for more than half the day until evening fell. The druid doubled back three times and almost lost him half a dozen more but every time he’d managed to find her trail and catch up with her.

Perhaps, he reflected later, she wanted to be found.

He was not so foolhardy as to barge into the tiny hut where the druid lived; he had little doubt the elf could magick him into a fine paste and butter her toast with him, if she so desired. He rested on a fallen log on the patch of green and looked around the darkening glade as he waited for her to emerge.

It was virtually untouched, despite her habitation. In contrast to the human villagers who seemed intent on clearing every tree within the radius of their settlements, the druid’s hut seemed to have emerged spontaneously from the ground, disturbing none of the surrounding environs.

A brook murmured nearby and made sweet music with the evening song of the crepuscular birds. His mind wandered back to the druid and he resumed the game he’d been playing all afternoon as he trailed her, trying to guess her name. She looked to be a high elf of some maturity--perhaps five or even six centuries, old enough for the first lines to appear at the corners of her lovely, fierce eyes. What was she doing here, after all?

It had been long since he’d met such an interesting person--since he’d met anyone he cared to know. The irony that she didn’t wish to know him was bitter, stinging. He dabbed gingerly at the gashes on his brow. They throbbed still but had stopped bleeding, at least.

Smoke rose from her hut and Halsin’s belly cramped with hunger. He had not eaten all day and was out of the deer jerky he usually kept in his hip pouch. And, too, there was hunger of another sort, equally desperate for satisfaction.

Her door finally opened to him, a rectangle of golden light in the gathering dark.

He felt every inch of his six and a half feet when he entered the hut; he was eye level with the rafters and had to crouch to move around the single room. Without comment, the druid pulled a chair from the table--there was only one chair--and extended her arm in invitation.

Halsin sat, inhaling the exquisite scent of the rabbit stew bubbling on the hearth. She did not offer to bind his wounds but bent over him to take a cursory look to ensure there was nothing amiss.

He held his breath as she touched his face with her cool fingers, probing the furrows the Sage’s claws had left in his flesh. He gasped, and not just from the pain. How long had it been since he’d felt a woman’s touch, even an indifferent one? “Those will scar,” she said simply, then moved back to the hearth.

“Tell me,” he said, watching intently as she ladled the stew into an earthenware bowl. “What is your name?”

The druid glanced up from the hearth. Her amber gaze was intense; he felt his blood heating just from that look. He wanted her so badly that even the distant possibility his desire might be fulfilled quickened his pulse.

“Dalia,” she said. He could never have guessed it.

“‘The edge of dawn,’” he translated from the high elven. A poetic name but one that seemed to suit her. “Pretty. I’m called Halsin.”

She smiled at that. It was not a common name, he imagined, among her folk.

“‘Hazelnut,’” she said, meeting his eyes again as she passed him the bowl. Their fingers brushed and his intake of breath was audible.

“Just ‘hazel,’ in our tongue,” he said, still watching her. She was as captivating as a hawk at prey, even serving soup from a cookpot. He noticed a fading tattoo running along her hairline. Too ornate for druid work. He longed to trace it with his finger. “Where are your people?”

“My Circle resides at the Dancing Falls, on the edge of the Dessarin.” She settled on the hearth to eat her soup. She had a slim figure, neat and athletic and not tall, imposing though she was in presence.

His curiosity warred with his hunger and since he had already been marked as rude, he split the difference and spoke over a mouthful of the glorious stew: rich and silky, it was, tasting of herbs and wild onions and savory meat. It burned his mouth but he did not care. “I meant, your people. Your kith and kin.”

“The druids are my kin now. The creatures and trees of this wood my kith.” She blew carefully on her stew before taking a bite.

Halsin considered this and found the idea not unappealing. The last two decades had been lonely ones and he found himself now relishing even the most adversarial contacts with people. “What do you druids do? Besides live in nature?”

Dalia snorted. “‘Besides live in nature,’ as though it’s some rare sport.”

“Well, isn’t it? Not many choose such a life.”

“You did.”

He stopped eating and looked down at his bowl of half-finished stew, uncertain of how much to reveal. He wanted to tell all, unburden all the secrets of his heart for the sake of sharing them. But even his corroded social skills warned him against that approach. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel sorry for him. “This life chose me,” he said vehemently, anger rising unbidden. “Not the other way around. My people are dead and gone.”

Dalia’s curved eyebrow registered her skepticism and he felt another flash of annoyance. How dare she imagine she knew his heart better than he?

“You might have traveled to a city, or made a life in one of the villages here. No doubt they would be happy to have your shield and many maidens happy to take you to their beds.”

Halsin choked on his stew and from the corner of his eye caught her faint smile, the glimmer in her keen eyes. She was teasing him for the callow youth that he knew he was, damn her.

When he regained some dignity after his fit of coughing subsided, he said, “You presume, druid. I’m not interested in maidens.” She did not squirm under his stare but merely returned his challenging gaze with her own. He wanted desperately to know what was going on behind those golden eyes. Almost as much as he wanted to throw her onto the straw pallet in the corner and divest her of her robes, to explore her lean body with eyes, hands, and tongue.

“Teach me,” he demanded. He leaned forward in the creaky chair, using his imposing size to loom over her. Like the bear, she wasn’t the least bit intimidated.

“You are impetuous and full of anger. And truly, no better than the humans you scorn; for though you live in nature you do not cherish its harmony, only what you can plunder from it."

He opened his mouth to respond in fury--what he would say, he did not know, but certainly something regrettable--but the druid held up her hand, cutting him off with the force of that gesture.

"If you want to become a druid, you will first need to master your own feelings. But nature, much as we druids endeavor to heal it, also has the power to heal us in turn.” She heaved a sigh, as though already regretting her next words. “I can teach you. Perhaps it was meant to be so.”

Halsin’s anger melted into relief so deep the corners of his eyes pricked with tears. His voice was rough when he replied with a terse “Thank you.” Even he had not realized how much he wanted this--needed it. Halsin’s eyes finally rose again to meet Dalia’s. “I swear that your trust in me will not be misplaced.”

She nodded briskly as though they’d concluded a trade. “Well and good. About the other thing….”

“The other thing?” he said densely.

“Of maidens and bedchambers.” She rolled her eyes and he felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Oh. Yes. What about them?” he asked warily.

“I’m not so foolish as to offer my heart to a wood elf but we both have… needs.” Her face was still composed but behind her stiff words he could sense her vulnerability. She, too, was lonely. The idea of her dwelling here alone in the hut for years on end filled him with tenderness in equal measure to his desire for her.

His chair scraped away from the table and he narrowly avoided a collision with the rafter as he sat down beside her to take her face in his hands.

She had an angular jaw to match her aquiline features. Her eyes had little softness in them, even now. She told him what to do next. As their bodies joined by the fire he experienced pleasures he didn’t know existed. Compared to his crude, perfunctory couplings in the wood, they were divine, revelations written in flesh and sighs.

After, they lay together in silence as the fire dwindled and his heart threatened to over-brim with happiness. Rare happiness from the promise of things to come.

[hlupdate]

Harry Styles twirls in the center of the floor of the L.A. Forum, dancing wildly to his new song “Golden.” The venue is deserted. It’s Thursday afternoon, just a few hours before the release of his hotly awaited second album, Fine Line. He’s rehearsing for Friday night’s big album-release celebration show. (Outside the arena, the parking lot is full of tents—fans from around the world have been camping out all week, awaiting a spot on this floor.) After a few hours of rehearsing with his band, Harry cuts loose as the new album begins to blast over the speakers, breaking into a dance of joy. It’s probably the last time he’ll ever hear this song in a room where nobody else is dancing.

Backstage, he lounges on a leather couch in his corduroy flares, a string of pearls and a yellow T-shirt depicting a panda and the words “I’m Gonna Die Lonely.” He and his musical wingman, Tom “Kid Harpoon” Hull, argue over the set list for the upcoming world tour, even though it doesn’t start until April. His mother reaches for an apple; ever the dutiful rock-star son, Harry directs her to the bowl where the tastier apples are hidden. He’s restless with anticipation for the world to hear his new songs, and he’s not doing a great job of hiding it.

Fine Line is the soulful, expansive, joyous pop masterpiece Harry’s been reaching for ever since he blew up nearly ten years ago, as the heart-throb of One Direction. As he sings in “Lights Up,” the single that dropped in September, he’s stepping into the light. “It all just comes down to I’m having more fun, I guess,” he says. “I think ‘Lights Up’ came at the end of a long period of self-reflection, self-acceptance,” he says. “Through the two years of making the record I went through a lot of personal changes—I just had the conversations with myself that you don’t always have. And I just feel more comfortable being myself.”

His life has changed in oh so many ways—some involving the occasional magic mushroom, others involving the even more psychedelic power of a broken heart. The music ranges from the Laurel Canyon hippie soft-rock vibe of “Canyon Moon”—Harry calls it “Crosby, Stills and Nash on steroids”—to the R&B pulse of “Adore You.” Fine Line is a break-up album that’s often sorrowful, but reflecting the introspective evolution of a 25-year-old navigating the seas of Having Sex and Feeling Sad, despite having spent so much of his youth in the spotlight. He’s refusing to follow trends or fit any formula. “The overall arc is just that I tried to redefine what success means to me. I tried to rewire what I thought about it. A lot changes in two years, especially after coming out of the band and just working out what life is now. I feel so much freer, making this album—you get to a place where you feel happy even if the song is about the time when you weren’t that happy.”

The first time Harry played this album for me, back in June, it was a few miles away in L.A.’s Henson Studios, the same room where his idol Carole King made Tapestry—for him, sacred ground. “I look back on the last album,” he said then, referring to his 2017 solo debut. “And I thought I was being so honest, just because there’s one line about having a wank. I had no idea. You write a song that’s pretty open and honest, and you think that’s just my song, but then you hand it over to people, and it’s like, ‘Oh fuck!’ Until people hear them, they’re not even songs. They’re just voice notes.”

Here is Harry’s song-by-song guide to Fine Line—along the creative and emotional journey he took while making it.

“Golden” The first song written for Fine Line, on the second day of the sessions at Shangri-La Studios in Malibu. “That was always the first one I played to people,” he says. “That was just always going to be Track One.” It’s a blast of vintage Seventies SoCal soft-rock, the kind of Laurel Canyon mellowness that suffused his first album, layered in guitars and harmonies. “When we wrote ‘Golden,’ we were sitting around the kitchen in the studio, and I was playing it on guitar. There were five of us singing the harmonies—the acoustics in the kitchen made it sound so cool, so we thought, this song’s gonna work.”

Even in this sunny SoCal pop tune, there’s a tinge of bittersweet loss—as the sun goes down, he pleads, “I don’t wanna be alone.” As he says, “I don’t know much about Van Morrison’s life—but I know how he felt about this girl, because he put it in a song. So I like working the same way.”

“Watermelon Sugar” Harry did this fruit-crazed jam on Saturday Night Live, stretching out with his live band. He wrote “Watermelon Sugar” with producer Tyler Johnson, Tom Hull and guitar sidekick Mitch Rowland; as with the whole album, he worked with members of his tight rotating cast of friends and collaborators, rather than the usual hit squad of pros. “If you’re going in with session writers or something, you spend one or two days there, and there is no way that person really cares about your album as much as you do. Because they’re into something else tomorrow. I know that Mitch, Tyler, Tom, Sammy [Witte], Jeff [Bhasker] wanted the album to be as good as I wanted to be. They don’t care about if it’s their song or not. They’re not concerned how many songs they get on an album. They want it to be the best album it can possibly be. We’ll bond over music we love and things we’re going through. It’s not like there’s one person in the group that’s like, ‘Well, no, I don’t talk about that. I just make beats.’”

A massive influence on the album—and on his life—is his experience on his first solo tour, stepping out without One Direction. “The tour, that affected me deeply. It really changed me emotionally. Having people come to sing the songs. For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think. I kept thinking, ‘Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’ That’s the thing I’m most thankful for, of touring. The fans in the room is this environment where people come to feel like they can be themselves. There’s nothing that makes me feel more myself than to be in this whole room of people. It made me realize people want to see me experiment and have fun. Nobody wants to see you fake it.”

“Adore You” “‘Adore You’ is the poppiest song on the album,” he says of the latest single. “This time I really felt so much less afraid to write fun pop songs. It had to do with the whole thing of being on tour and feeling accepted. I listen to stuff like Harry Nilsson and Paul Simon and Van Morrison, and I think, well, Van Morrison has ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ and Nilsson has ‘Coconut.’ Bowie has ‘Let’s Dance.’ The fun stuff is important.”

“Lights Up” After kicking off his solo career with “Sign of the Times,” a sprawling glam-rock piano epic, Harry surprised many fans with his first single from Fine Line: a succinct, sleek R&B groove. “When I played it for the label, I told them, this is the first single. It’s two minutes thirty-five. You’re welcome.” It came late in the sessions—“Lights Up,” “Treat People with Kindness” and “Adore You” were written in the final week this spring, in a burst of inspiration.

For Harry it has something to do with stepping out on his own. When he began songwriting, it was as a member of the group. “‘Happily,” that was the first time I saw my name in the credits. I liked that. But I knew I’d only sing part of it. I knew if I wrote a really personal song, I wouldn’t sing it. It was like a safety net. If a song was too personal, I could back away and say, ‘Well, I don’t have anything to do with it.’ The writing was like, “Well if I was going to write a song about myself, I’d probably never sing it.” It’s like story-telling sometimes if you’re like telling a really personal story then the voice changes every few lines, it doesn’t quite do the same thing. As the songs got more personal, I think I just became more aware that at some point there might be a moment where I would want to sing it myself.”

“A turning point was “Two Ghosts,” a ballad from his solo debut. “’Two Ghosts’ I wrote for the band, for Made In the AM. But the story was just a bit too personal. As I started opening up to write my more personal stuff, I just became aware of a piece of me going, ‘I want to sing the whole thing.’ Now I look at a track list and these are all my little babies. So every time I’m playing a song, I can remember writing it, and exactly where we were and exactly what happened in my life when I wrote it. So the whole show is this massive emotional journey, you know? That’s a big difference, rather than every twenty minutes you go, ‘Oh, I remember this one.’”

“Cherry” The most powerful moment on Fine Line—a raw confession of jealousy. His engineer Sammy Witte was playing an acoustic guitar riff that Harry overheard and loved. “That was the moment of saying, yeah, I want my songs to sound like that,” he says. It ends with a female voice speaking French, while Harry jams on guitar. “That’s just a voice note of my ex-girlfriend talking. I was playing guitar and she took a phone call—and she was actually speaking in the key of the song.”

“Falling” A dreamy soul ballad. “Tom had come up to my place to grab something and he’d sat at the piano and I’d just got out of the shower and he started playing, and then we wrote it there. So I was completely naked when I wrote that song.”

“To be So Lonely” “The song ‘To Be So Lonely’ is just really like articulation of Mitch’s brain. Even when Mitch plays to himself, he’s got the swing.” The song was composed on a guitalele—a ukulele with six strings. “They’re really good for writing on, because you can travel with them. I had one of those with me in Japan, so they’re really good for spur-of-the-moment ideas.”

“She” A fantastic six-minute rock epic with a loopy guitar excursion, as if the Prince circa “Purple Rain” jammed with Pink Floyd circa “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” “Mitch played that guitar when he was a little, ah, influenced. Well, he was on mushrooms, we all were. We had no idea what we were doing. We forgot all about that track, then went back later and loved it. But Mitch had no idea what he did on guitar that night, so he had to learn it all over from the track. That one to me feels really British. I usually sing with a slight American twang, because the first person I ever listened to was Elvis Presley. When I’ve been doing the track listing, and ticking off the ones to definitely make the album, it’s always in the first three to be ticked. That’s a phenomenal song.”

“Sunflower, Vol. 6” An experimental trip with “deep cut” written all over it. “I would love people to listen to the whole album. I want people to listen to every song. Even with streaming and playlists, I love listening to records top to bottom. So I want to make make albums that I want to listen to top to bottom, because that’s just how I listen to music.”

“Canyon Moon” “I was in a pretty big Joni hole,” Harry admits. Inspired by his Southern California surroundings—and his obsession with Joni Mitchell’s 1971 classic Blue—he tracked down Joellen Lapidus, the woman who built the dulcimer Mitchell plays all over that album. Back in the day, Lapidus introduced Mitchell to the wonders of the mountain dulcimer; Joni took it backpacking around Europe and wrote some of her most classic songs on it. Harry and Tom Hull got their first lesson in the instrument from Lapidus herself, at her house in Culver City. He proudly calls this song “Crosby, Stills and Nash on steroids.” When he played Fine Line for Stevie Nicks this summer, she picked this as her favorite—and as you may know, Stevie’s opinion means a lot to the young man she called “my little muse Harry Styles.”

“Treat People With Kindness” This up-with-people sing-along doesn’t sound like anything else on the album. It began after the slogan was featured prominently on Harry’s first solo tour. “I told Jeff, I would love to someday write a song called ‘Treat People With Kindness.’ And he was like, ‘Why don’t you just do it?’ It made me uncomfortable at first, because I wasn’t sure what it was—but then I wanted to lean into that. I feel like that song opened something that’s been in my core.”

“Fine Line” The longest and most eccentric song on the album—one of the first to be written, as a simple folkie ballad, but it kept expanding and evolving. “It’s a weird one,” he says. “It started simple, but I wanted to have this big epic outro thing. And it just took shape as this thing where I thought, ‘That’s just like the music I want to make.’ I love strings, I love horns, I love harmonies—so why don’t we just put ALL of that in there?” It typifies the spirit of the whole project. But he knows he can’t please everyone. “When my granddad first heard ‘Lights Up,’ he was, ‘Yeah, I had to listen to it a couple times to get it. But I’m just glad you’re still working.’ It was funny, but I thought, I’m just glad I’m still working.”

[interesting-blog-name]

“Indie Rock” MEGAREVIEW (Hippo Campus - Bashful Creatures/Bad Suns - Language & Perspective/COIN - How Will You Know If You Never Try)

“Indie rock” is a term I never understood. It obviously should be used to describe rock by independent bands, but what counts as independent anymore? Bands like Arcade Fire and Modest Mouse are categorized as “indie”, much like Mac DeMarco, and they have reached a point in their careers of worldwide fame, but they’re still considered “indie”, not because they record their music at home with a $15 mic, but because of their sound. It’s hard to describe, but it’s a light brand of rock that has undistorted guitars, pop structures, and something of a Summer vibe to them. I really don’t know how to technically describe indie rock as a genre, but I have yet to listen to an indie rock album, so I got three short albums from bands that my some of my friends listen to, all under the “indie” umbrella (according to Wikipedia), to see if I actually like the style.

 Hippo Campus – Bashful Creatures

It’s a solid EP. Not much more to say.

I really don’t know what to comment on in this, because I feel like the biggest problem with the “indie” “genre” is that the bands all sound the same, and for a 6-track EP, how much variety can you really ask for? Also considering this is their debut EP. The instrumentation is fine, especially the guitars, which I think really embody the whole summertime feel of the genre, and standout in almost all tracks here, and the singer’s voice is memorable enough, and doesn’t leave anything to be desired at any point. He’s also super hot The songwriting is that youthful, lovey dovey shit you’d hear in a teen romance movie (“Art school girl with ignorant bliss. Peace, weed, cocaine, and mushrooms and shit”) but it’s tolerable (except in Souls, that song’s chorus is a little too generic for me, I think; even though I like how the song starts kind of toned down and suddenly blows up). The closest the EP gets to having even the slightest bit of edge is on the title track, an anthem about not caring about what others think and being yourself, and Suicide Saturday, the biggest song in here, which talks about social suicide and college parties and all that. Unfortunately, they’re also the most forgettable songs.

Sophie So has a really catchy hook, and showcases Jake’s higher pitched vocals very well, it is easily my favorite song. On Little Grace, the biggest change-up is the dub rhythm that sneaks up in the middle of the song, but it doesn’t stand out, and the chorus is the most annoying in the EP. Opportunistic has a fast cadence to it that sets it apart a little bit, plus the guitar fingering is notable, but the track isn’t anything superb or whatever.

It is executed well, doesn’t bring anything new, but I’d listen to it in the car.

 FAVORITE TRACK: Sophie So

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Bashful Creatures

 Like a 6/10

“You came back, you wanted to see through my two-colored eyes. You left me at home with a handful of downtrodden sighs.”

 Bad Suns – Language & Perspective

I had known Cardiac Arrest for almost three years now, an upbeat song I’d enjoyed a little, so I chose Bad Suns for the second album, and I was disappointed.

After the first three tracks, I had the feeling Language & Perspective had nothing interesting to offer, and I was mostly right. Nearly all songs here could be described as something like “indie-pop”, but with a huge emphasis on the “pop” aspect. The tracks are all so goddamn formulaic and predictable, songs like Take My Love and Run, Learn to Trust and We Move Like the Ocean sound like they literally copy-paste themselves halfway into them until they end, and Sleep Paralysis swaps what could be an actual verse with like 20 seconds of onomatopoeia. The song topics are generic and bland as well, most of them being about “[coming] to you on my hands and knees” and dreaming about an ex late at night and stuff like that, or general teenage anxiety and overthinking, and that would be tolerable if the band at least said it with some kind of variation, but they don’t, it’s just surface-level love and regret songs back to back.

An exception to the bland songwriting in the album is the song Salt, where lead singer Christo sings from the perspective of his transgender friend. I’m not trans, so I can’t relate nor understand if the lyrics are accurate, but the thing is he isn’t either. From the Genius annotations, it seems the friend was pleased though, and said the feelings expressed in the song were things she actually felt, but was never able to describe, so I guess that’s cool of him to dedicate a whole song to her experience. Still, unfortunately the track isn’t such a standout instrumentally or vocally, but one thing I liked was how the hook finishes at the end of the song, when “these memories are nothing to me, just salt” becomes “salt to the wound”, so yeah that was cool.

Language & Perspective is at its best when the hooks are catchy and you just don’t give a fuck. Songs like Cardiac Arrest, We Move Like the Ocean and Pretend are super easy to sing along to, and sound perfect for when you’re in a car driving against the sun (I know I said the exact same thing for the last album leave me alone), especially because of Bowman’s impressive singing, but without that thin veil of sugary pop, what does this album have that stands out? Matthew James, Take My Love and Run, Transpose (which sounds like it could be on a really corny Nike commercial) and Learn to Love just aren’t as memorable and fun, and so they end up coming off as generic, bland and at times annoying, just because they don’t hold up to the melodic fun little hooks on the other songs.

I can’t hate on Dancing on Quicksand and Rearview however, as even though the first’s lyrics aren’t standouts, I can’t help but love how groovy the song is, and the latter, while the melodies aren’t the most memorable here, the lyrics, to me, sound like they have a little more life and personality to them, even if they remain somewhat vague. I have to admit Sleep Paralysis is a mixed highlight for me, despite the lyrics being especially repetitive, just because of how grand the ending sounds and how the eerier chord progression brings at least something new to the album.

Also, really quick before I wrap it up, why the fuck is 20 Years not in the album? It’s in an EP they released the same year which features Cardiac Arrest, Transpose and Salt and it would easily be my favorite track if it was in the tracklist, maybe because it’s just really relatable to me how your teen years pass without you noticing, but it’s also so mellow and would bring such a refreshing little moment in the record.

My difficulties with this album is that I do like and see myself in the future bumping a lot of these songs individually, if I shut down a few parts of my brain and disregard half the lyrics, but when they’re all crumbled together into a project, their single qualities fade and their flaws unite to form a pretty unsatisfying listen; nearly all songs feel static, formulaic, and don’t progress or amount to much – which is pretty noticeable if you realize all songs span from 3:03 to 3:53 minutes - and the instrumentation brings almost nothing to the overall experience, it’s pretty much a backdrop for Bowman to sing his heart over, without much personality of its own. So while it’s not awful, it’s not good either.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Dancing on Quicksand, Rearview

LEAST FAVORITE TRACKS: Learn to Trust, Take My Love and Run

 4.7/10

“You let your hair down, your face is made up, you know this town so well”

 COIN – How Will You Know If You Never Try

COIN is the least familiar band of the three here, as I’ve only heard Growing Pains from them and I don’t remember anything from the track, but as a quick intro, the band is from Nashville, Tennessee and consisted of 4 members: Chase Lawrence on vocals and synthesizer, Ryan Winnen on drums, Joe Memmel on guitar and backing vocals, and Zach Dyke on bass until he left two years ago.

After listening to the first three tracks of the album, my expectations were pretty high, but after finishing, I feel like this album is reminiscent of a poorly-heated microwave meal: the first three tracks are decreasingly good, the middle of the album is raw, and the last three go back to being increasingly good, with the only exception being the bright spot that is track 7, Heart Eyes, a romantic, entrancing little jam that I can’t help but love.

My big grip with HWYKIYNT is that, for 11 tracks, COIN doesn’t let go of the ear-destroying instrumental breakdowns (it’s not like it’s heavy metal or anything, but the mixing makes it sound like the guitars blow up at some points), tuned up guitars and formulaic song structures, and that leads to many tracks becoming rather forgettable amongst the others. There are, of course, exceptions, but they’re few and I’d say not well-located within the album: Don’t Cry, 2020 is the big standout in the album for me, and I fell in love with it first listen (the context of today being 2020 also helps, I guess), Boyfriend’s defining synth-line and bubblegum qualities make for a lot of enjoyment, especially paired with the light-hearted passive-aggressiveness and rejection on the lyrics, and Talk Too Much, their biggest song, has some cute little lyrics, and an ultra-pop hook that centers the whole song around it and is impossible not so sing along to; but immediately after, the album starts to slow down its hype with I Don’t Wanna Dance, which has an appealing vocal performance by Chase, and starts promisingly with the synths, but is too simple to go anywhere.

Hannah is probably the most forgettable song here, and brings absolutely nothing to the album, and Are We Alone?’s lyrics are cute and focused but really simplistic; in this song specifically, I think the breakdown the band employs right after the hook is really unnecessary, and the song would do better without it. After that is Heart Eyes, which I’ve mentioned before as one of my favorites, mostly because it tones it down a bit, something that really needed to happen at some point this deep into the record.

The song Lately II contains the hidden track Nothing Matters and deals with Chase losing his newborn nephew, a sequel to Lately off the band’s debut album. On the outside, it sounds like just another cheerful song, but the lyrics taken into context I’m sure are very meaningful to Chase and his family; besides that I enjoy the heavier drums in this track and the loose vocal melodies right after the chorus, plus the closing instrumentals are also a nice addition, but I don’t really understand the need to include a hidden track into it; I understand the themes are intertwined, but it could have very well been a separate track, and the way it is slightly harms the song when isolated from the album into, for example, a playlist or a one-time listen, but whatever.

I don’t have much to say about Feeling, it’s your average hype indie-rock track, something you’d maybe hear in a FIFA video game soundtrack, but to its credit, it doesn’t go overboard in itself, the vocals and guitar performances feel very grounded and safe, in a good way. And to finish this off, Miranda Beach brings some solid guitars to the table, they feel very textured and pierce through every other sound; the song is definitely one of the most infectious and ear-catching on here. Closing it all up, Malibu 1992 is the slow jam the album was in need of for 11 tracks. Very stripped back and patient compared to the rest of the song, which makes it stand out naturally, but that doesn’t mean the song is superb or anything, it’s just a refreshing taste.

Throughout a lot of the tracks here I was waiting for something more, a slightly different approach to a song, more introspective lyrics, but it never really came in a way that stood out, and because of that, the start of the album ends up more solid than the rest of it, in my opinion. It isn’t a bad album, but it isn’t amazing either. I feel it’s very derivative, the lyrics are not a standout, and while some songs may be bops, I don’t feel it is strong as a whole project.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Don’t Cry, 2020; Miranda Beach; Talk Too Much; Heart Eyes

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Hannah

 I’m feeling a strong 5 to a light 6 on this one. 

“You’re so concerned about your future, yeah, but tomorrow’s just another day.”

[tinyshe]

Garden Report 20.04.03

I will be so glad when the hand wringing and hoarding panic stops!

Today I went to get bedding straw (wheat) and there was a total of four bales.  I purchased my regular two but the owner was surprised that they were so low as they just got in a load at the beginning of the week.  They also had baby chicks … yesterday. They sold out in a half hour.  It usually takes them two weeks of more to sell out one delivery. Called another feed store and they can’t even get any but are incubating eggs. I called up to a village about 20 minutes away and they had a line forming outside the store and doubted there would be any when I arrived as there was such a long line. Sure enough, I called an hour later and they had none. People were turned away when the supply was depleted and they refuse to take advance orders.  I just wanted four little babies to raise as pets but people are off their heads with panic! I hope that people that received chicks know what to do!! Its sad when people aren’t prepared nor committed to what it takes because the animal suffers.

Today I delivered a flat of mixed transplants then came back and did up some more.  Most of the seeds I’ve sown are up EXCEPT the cherry toms. I think they may have rotted with all the ice and cold we’ve had. The little grow closet is not heated.  I will bring them in and set them next to the canary for a week to see if I can’t get a rise out of them.  He is on a seed mat and under a grow light so they can keep each other company if I can keep the cat off!

Got one brush pile demolished and the compost that accumulated under distributed around the artichokes and the Asian pear.  I’m a little worried because there were burdock heads in there. I guess I will deal with them if they sprout.

The kiwi has leafed and is lunging into any open space it can find.

I wanted to take out some of the veggies that have seeded, just to keep a few to collect seed from but I had a nice gathering of bees working the bed, I just couldn’t.   They were even coming up to me and checking out my clippers in hand (orange handles).  They are eager to gather from what ever will yield!

Did up three layers of maitake plugs in a basket. I hope they go! People are panicking and buying up all the medicinal mushrooms.  I use them in part of my alternative health treatment for the cancer. Maitake and Turkey tails are the mains with cordyceps, reishi and cycling in and out Lions Mane. Maybe I should convert the grow closet to a mushroom shed >:)

Much of the garden is starting to bloom despite the ice in the morning as the days are pretty mellow. The iris, mounding daisies, coral bells and roses are starting in earnest. I don’t know why I am surprised, It’s April!!