#i need a global release so BAD i’m tired of having to use the shitty translator app just to know what gojo’s saying to me 😔😔

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

sniffle . sob

[1d-discourseoftheday]

💙 Tues 5 Jan ‘21 💚

Is today's biggest story really a pair of socks I mean WHY NOT am I right, that may as well happen! With impeccable timing, as the fandom and the world went bananas about Ho-livia WildStyle (a drag queen name for the ages right there), the first of the limited edition TPWK socks that people ordered basically on blind faith (you fully couldn't tell what they were going to look like at all on the website, and now we know why lmao) have arrived with a bang: they seemed to come with either blue or pink hearts, but in fact it turns out you get one of two color combos, either pink and white or, uh: BLUE AND GREEN HEARTS. I'm not one to carry on about like jeans and a green shirt or what have you but this is a CHOICE, and if the antis don't have performative burnings of their evil larrie merch honestly WHAT is the POINT; the resale market of the limited edition socks is already booming though so there's always that option, if either side can bear to conduct business across the divide. My question is, did they really time it to play out this precisely on purpose? Unlikely tbh, but if that's a thing they're capable of I have some THOUGHTS about the way other Harry merch takes like 4 months to arrive...

Larrie socks aside however, the real discourse continues to be about you-know-what, with the players out there fanning the flames wildly. There's too much nonsense to bother with it all (the quoted sources in the articles directly contradicting each other's stories also makes it difficult) so let's just... *spins wheel*....okay I landed on 'tabloids say Harry's wedding speech talked about his girlfriend Olivia' here goes. Sjksdfjks WHY would you be talking about your girlfriend of three weeks in a speech for your close friends' wedding, OMG, how uncomfortable and inappropriate is that?? Imagine if any of this were real, that Harry ('I'd take my time and make sure a thing was serious before telling people about it', end quote, I mean that's ALSO a stunt quote (oh the layers) but just pointing out that it's contradictory) starts dating his co-worker who just got out of a huge relationship and is also a famous person with presumably an interest in privacy, and immediately the two of you get to work setting up a big reveal to happen right away (even in a weird fantasy world where any of this is real the possibility that JEFF AZOFF'S WEDDING had the paps present for any other reason than to do EXACTLY what they were told is flat impossible- what pap or celeb outlet can afford to be on Jeff's bad list?!) and then he casually writes her into his speech (a guy who's so anxious and shy about public speaking and what to say that he begs people to write speeches for him and practices endlessly) uh huh, sure Jan. There are so many things about this that are ludicrous, but more to the point, none of the things they're saying hold up to scrutiny any better than this. There just isn't any point in taking them that seriously though; Harry is a closeted artist and, just like the many queer artists that came before him who he repeatedly reminds us are his icons, he both lets us know all day every day in a million ways that he's queer, and also plays the industry game and winkingly gives the press their Straight Guy Harry fodder. You don't have to like it, or indeed anything at all in this world, but people do need to accept that whether they like it or not is neither the point nor anyone (including Harry)'s responsibility to respond to or do anything about.

Like I said I can't cover every detail but! I always have a little space for the absurd: today, our best entrant is the possibility that the whole wedding we saw was a sham– fans ask, was this public spectacle Jeff and Glenne's actual wedding? Listen if anyone would be up for it it would be this crew, and if they did stage it I'm sure they had a good laugh! Suspicion has been cast on Glenne's dress (allegedly an untailored 2018 off the rack number), the small guest list (wouldn't they just wait and have a huge event?), and the fact that they invited paps there at all. It would make the no explanation robe pics EVEN FUNNIER though if you imagine that was for our benefit but left totally unadressed (undressed). ANYWAY Don't Worry Darling filming is back in business and Harry was papped some more today, out for a casual not at all pap walk hike with a work associate and multiple items of his own merch (including an unreleased hoodie design.) On the topic of DWD, sometimes a different perspective can be interesting-- for example considering whether Harry is the point of all this at all? Or is he but a bit player in the real DWD publicity drama, an elaborate and very public dramatic reconciliation between Olivia and her ex husband? Either way, he's neither a clueless dupe, a helpless pawn, or anyone's 'boy toy', so please: can we rein in the hand wringing and pointless Olivia bashing a bit?

Let's talk about something else shall we? For example! Liam's setlist, just released for the upcoming LP Show Act 4. Look at that song selection! Fireproof! Strong!! Through The Dark!! More exciting 1D faves! Plus Slow and Home With You off his EP, NICE, singles and more, it looks awesome. The Hugo Man fragrance relaunch is less exciting, featuring the dopiest possible articles full of chat about his skin care routine (oh shucks I'm just  manly man, I don't have one at all... *names two products and refers to 'multiple moisturizers'*), trademark accidental candor (“I’m quite tired!”), and of course trying to describe a fragrance, always an entertaining gymnastics (“every time I spray it, it kind of takes me back to being on that rooftop in Berlin”), but also there are manly new pics of Lia.

A new song Niall co-wrote is coming out! The JC Stewart song, Break My Heart, will be out this Fri! Charlie Lightening posted pics from a year ago on the Walls music video set, featuring an intent Louis in the sun (and fashion voter underrated excellent Looks), and Louis commented on Dave Allen's post (“top man!”)-- the famous boxer is offering to help friends through lockdown by facetiming 3or 4 people a day for home workouts, damn, and also aww. That shitty Doncaster secondary school turned out some really sweet dudes, against all odds tbh. With Los Angeles experiencing some of the worst COVID surges we've seen since the beginning of the pandemic, Grammys organizers have elected to postpone the (already limited) ceremony. Originally scheduled for Jan 31 it is now TBA, tentatively for March. Harry's stalker, who menaced him in and near his London home in 2019, is being charged with violating his restraining order by attempting to contact Harry via social media, Global Fund for Women thanked Harry for donating, and HLDaily and other accounts were suspended for posting pap pics, always a risk, but one trick potato Jeff is on the job; HSD is back up and running, cause they can't have a proper stunt season without their most faithful mouthpieces. Niall continues to vote for himself on twitter threads about what to listen to in the New Year.

[hotpinkhoshi]

can i just say that im excited as all hell for this comeback but the way Div2 is handling it is completely pissing me off 😠 y'all are releasing 5 versions of this album? during a GLOBAL pandemic where a lot of people are already stretched thin money-wise? AND y'all only gave us 2 WEEKS of advance notice for preorders when other groups get up to a month??? and y'all didn't even give us preorder links at first?? A N D THEIR ALBUMS ARE STILL. NOT. ON. AMAZON. LIKE. OTHER. ARTISTS. (1/2 LMAO SORRY)

WHEN A MAJORITY OF THEIR FANBASE IS INTERNATIONAL???? AND!!!!!!! PLANNING A FANSIGN FOR THIS COMEBACK ALREADY????? sure the fansign technically doesn't have a date yet, or any details but announcing one in the middle of a pandemic where large gatherings of people are STRONGLY DISCOURAGED is a dick move if it's only meant to boost album sales. it better be virtual or i'm going to set div2 on fire 😤 (2/3 I thought this was only going to be 2 parts oops)

im TIRED of them constantly mismanaging the boys since day 1. TIRED!!!!! been with the boys literally since debut and they're still! being shat on! 😡😡😡😡😡 (/rant over sorry lmao i needed an outlet for my frustration) anyway HOW ARE YOU ON THIS FINE DAY 😁😁😁😁

looollll sorry it took me a couple of days to respond to this i wanted to sit down and read it properly!! 

i completely understand the frustration. i’m a little confused myself as to why they chose NOW of all times to release a comeback.... and with such short notice?! it’s a bit odd and it worries me. i guess i’m so used to div2 making shitty decisions it just doesn’t ramp me up the way it used to lol. it sucks. i feel bad for the boys that they won’t get to perform in front of an audience when we know how much it means to them to see the fans.

but overall, instead of being pissed off i’ve decided to just be selfish for this cb. life is bleak right now and i feel very weird these days, so i’m just going to consume all the content and let it brighten my day a little bit. i definitely see all of the problems but instead of being angry i’m choosing to just enjoy it. i can just hope that they are being as safe and smart as possible during their promotions so that nobody gets sick 😔

[gadgeandi]

prompt: i hate you but we have to do this college project together whoops we just had hate sex aw dang im pregnant

part 1 l part 2

note: this ch is def. rated e. you have been warned. also, it kinda got away from me and is super long, so excuse the length

Beyonce’s lyrical voice playing from the radio contrasted sharply with Madge’s current shrill octave.

“Can you believe him?” Madge seethes as she scrubs a stained mug with more vigor than was really necessary. “Now I’m stuck on this stupid project with him for the entire semester! All because he had to plop his fat ass next to me!”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” kind Peeta tries to placate her. Poor guy had come over to bake a surprise for his girlfriend, and ended up having to deal with her currently unstable roommate. “I mean, he is smart.”

“Smart!” Madge scoffs as she moves on to the next dirty cup. “If you’re referring to stupid-man-and-repugnant-turd, than yes, Gale is S.M.A.R.T.”

“Madge,” Peeta’s tired tone makes her look up. He’s holding a bowl of batter while staring at her disapprovingly. “I know you two don’t get along, and hell, I hardly like the guy, but everyone knows he takes his classes seriously. You’re overthinking this one.”

“It’s my last semester,” Madge explains worriedly. “You know how hard I’ve worked to earn my 3.82 gpa. Peeta, if it goes under 3.7, I won’t get into any med-school.”

Peeta finally rolls his eyes. “I’m not even a STEM major and I can tell you confidently that even if you flunked a three-credit class, you wouldn’t go down to a 3.6.”

Defeated by cold-hard math, Madge resumes washing the dishes silently, the sound of eggs being cracked and Jay-Z’s verse the only thing filling the silence.

“You know,” Peeta suddenly speaks up, a mischievous grin on his face. “I’ve always had a theory about why Gale always acts up around you.”

“Do enlighten me,” Madge says, rolling her eyes this time.

“I think he likes you.”

The wet bowl slips from Madge’s hand, falling back into the sudsy water with a loud plop!

“That,” Madge says as she fishes out the bowl. “Is the most crackhead thing you’ve ever said.”

“Your love’s got me looking so crazy right now,” Peeta sings along with Beyonce, undulating his hips sensually. She splashes him.

****

Madge figures if there’s a place for them to meet up, it’s the library. Neutral territory, populated, and quietness enforced.

Gale, of course, is late.

She knew she should be doing problems from her MCAT review book with this spare time, but all she can do is stare a hole in the wall across from her as she awaited that hunkering idiot.

“Hey.”

Madge looks up sharply as Gale enters the small study-room Madge had booked, and lowers himself into the seat across from her. For a moment, Madge’s eyes drop to his blue t-shirt, and how it seems to be stretched at every seam to cover his wide shoulders entirely.

Eyes snapping back up when they linger on his biceps, Madge glares at him. He shows up 15 minutes late, and all he has to say is hey?

“So glad you could finally join me,” Madge says icily. “It’s not like we have a set time for this room I had to book.”

Gale shoots her a nasty glare as he takes out his books from his bag. “Something came up.”

“Oh, I’m sure yours is always coming up,” Madge taunts. She knew in the back of her mind she was being difficult, but it was the third day of her period- when her cramps were always the worst- she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night because she was up late working on an assignment for another class, and the stress of the upcoming MCAT was really beginning to gnaw away at her. “I bet you couldn’t keep it down even if you tried.”

“My brother got pneumonia,” Gale tells her cooly. “My mom checked him into the hospital an hour ago. I called for an update.”

A tight knot of guilt immediately forms in her stomach.

“Gale, I am so sorry,” Madge immediately apologizes. “Is there anything I can do?”

Gale just shrugs. “Unless money can buy a miracle cure, then no. You can’t.”

Madge doesn’t even take offense at his slight. Properly ashamed of her actions, Madge vows then and there to be extra kind to Gale to make up for her bad behavior.

“I’m sorry,” Madge repeats for extra measure before moving on. “So did you have any ideas for our project?”

Gale taps a pencil against his notebook. “Kinda. Not very good.”

Normally, his lack of initiative would have annoyed her, but she purposefully ignores it as she pulls out her own notes.

“Well, a lot of classes I’ve taken are actually research-based in labs, so I was thinking-”

“No,” Gale interrupts her. “We’re not doing that.”

Deep breaths, Undersee

“Why?” Madge asks in a strained voice.

“We’re not copying your previous research,” Gale says as he leans into his chair, crossing his arms.

“It’s not copying,” Madge clarifies through gritted teeth. “It’s just extrapolating off of known data.”

“Nope,” Gale says again, popping the last syllable. “Not doing it.”

“Why not?” it’s taking all her willpower not to shout. The bloating in her intestines isn’t helping either.

“Cause you have a better understanding of this stuff,” Gale points out casually. “Even if I try to learn it all, a lot of the research will be naturally shifted to you.”

Huh? That almost sounded like…

“I want this project to be split 50/50,” Gale continues. “Let’s pick something that’s either familiar or new to both of us, so we start on the same foot.”

Damn her ovaries for releasing this unwanted egg, because Gale’s simple logic is making her eyes dangerously wet. Since when did he have any ethics?

“Ok,” Madge agrees quietly. “Do you want to share your ideas then?”

For a while they just brainstorm, flipping through their textbook and skimming internet articles as they tried to find a good idea. It was all going rather well when her uterus decides that it’s the perfect moment to commit violent suicide.

Cramps shredding her insides like a blunt razor, all Madge can do is double down and bite her lower lip. Ah, the joys of adulthood: periods, an already shitty experience, getting shittier.

“You alright?” Gale asks suddenly, worry evident in his voice. Madge tries to sit up and straight as she can and weakly waves him off.

“Fine,” she grunts as she crosses her legs, praying the pain passed soon.

“You don’t look fine,” Gale says, unconvinced. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m on my period, ok?” Madge snaps, unable to look at him. It was ridiculous, really. They were grown adults, both aware of the female reproductive system. There was no cause to be embarrassed, and yet she was, feeling as humiliated as the time in middle school her jeans split when she bent down.

“Oh.”

Madge doesn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes and goes back to reading her textbook, the cramp blessedly deciding to pass.

She hears Gale ruffle through his backpack before she sees his outstretched hand. He’s holding a bite-size Snickers bar.

“Want it?” Gale asks, bouncing the bar up and down in his palm.

God. She really really wanted chocolate. But she really really did not want to take it from Gale. Her craving wins out and she takes the candy from his hand, putting the entire bar into her mouth.

“I forgive you,” Gale tells her amusedly as she chews, resting his jaw on a hand. She knew she shouldn’t have taken his offering. “You know, for being a huge B earlier. I would have acted worse if that was happening to me down there.”

It takes Madge a moment to swallow the sticky sweet.

“Since when do you censor yourself?” Madge asks unamusedly, balling up the wrapper and tossing it in the trash can.

“My Ma raised me not to call women a bitch,” Gale answers proudly. “Or cunt. Or whore. Or slut.”

For a moment, all Madge can do is stare at him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. She had grown up around men who had no problem using any of those words on any woman, be it their own mother or daughter.

“Why the surprise?” Gale asks, looking offended. “You think I’m some kind of chauvinist?”

“I don’t think about you at all,” Madge lies. “Anyways, I think I found a good topic.”

Gale approves and they’ve finally found themselves their topic. As they finalize their project’s proposal, Madge realizes that Gale doesn’t treat her poorly because he treats all women badly. No, Gale treats her the way he does because he genuinely dislikes who she is as a person.

That hurts. She has no idea why, but it does. Sharply. And as much as she wants to blame hormones, it’s more than that.

***

Madge Undersee: Professor emailed me back. Turns out no one else thought to study slit deposits by the river, so the topic is approved and all ours.

Gale Hawthorne: Cool

Gale Hawthorne: Wanna visit it Saturday to scope it out?

Madge Undersee: I have lab on Saturday. I’m always free Tuesday nights

Gale Hawthorne: Weirdly enough, so am I

Madge Undersee: I’ll need a ride

Gale Hawthorne: You can ride me anywhere ;)

[GALE HAWTHORNE CAN NO LONGER SEND/RECEIVE MESSAGES TO MADGE UNDERSEE]

[GALE HAWTHORNE CAN NOW SEND/RECEIVE MESSAGES TO MADGE UNDERSEE]

Gale Hawthorne: Knew you couldn’t resist me

Madge Undersee: Actually, I wanted to know if your brother is doing better.

Gale Hawthorne: Oh

Gale Hawthorne: Yeah. He is. Should be out of the hospital tomorrow.

Madge Undersee: Good

[GALE HAWTHORNE CAN NO LONGER SEND/RECEIVE MESSAGES TO MADGE UNDERSEE]

*** It was the kind of heat that literally made you want to die. There was no metaphor for it. Just plain agony.

“Forget slit deposits,” Madge grumbles as she steps over a large root. “We need to find a way to stop fucking global warming. This shit is like lava vapor.”

Gale had decided to undergo the two-mile hike it took to get to the large river that ran through the woods on the outskirts of their university town shirtless, and seemed to have no concerns of sunburn.

“Shall I fetch an umbrella for the fair lady?” Gale asks mockingly in a terrible British accent. There’s a perfect rock for him to trip over, but Madge would never voluntarily touch the bare skin of his back, especially not now, when it was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, even if it was to push him. Still, her eyes annoyingly enough keep on focusing on the glistening brown skin of his back, growing distracted enough times that she’s already tripped three times. It was absolutely foolish, but every time she sees a muscle of his flex and move, her mouth grows drier. She doesn’t even try to blame it on dehydration.

Damn Gale Hawthorne and his impeccable genes.

Don’t even get her started on his actual jeans, because she absolutely REFUSES to ogle his goddamn ass in the middle of the woods. Not that the location matters. Or the fact that she can’t stop herself from staring at his butt either. She really could not say who had a rounder tush, him or her.

Needless to say, when they finally spot the blue waters, Madge is beyond relieved. She desperately needs to cool off in more ways than one. And she needs a distraction from the fact that she’s pathetic enough to go goo-goo-gaa-gaa as soon as Gale lost his shirt. What was she, fucking 14?

“Despite your best efforts, we’ve made it in one piece,” Gale announces unnecessarily.

“Not to worry, I found a pack of rabid wolves for us to run into on the way back,” Madge shoots back sarcastically, walking around him to take in the view. Mostly untouched by civilisation, the river bank really was beautiful. Without even realizing it, Madge feels her muscles relax as she hears the sparkling blue water rush past her.

But something, she can’t explain what, feels off. Turning around, she finds Gale squinting up at the sky, lips pursed together.

“What?” Madge asks.

Gale blinks out the sun a few times before looking down at her. “Did you check the forecast before coming out here?”

Madge frowns, not liking where this was going. “No. Why?”

Gale points up. “See that cloud up there? I think-”

Gale’s explanation is cut off with a loud clang of thunder, and in the next moment, the sky above them suddenly darkens.

“Perfect,” Madge deadpans. It starts pouring a moment after that.

A small shriek escapes her as the startling cold water hits her overheated skin. There’s another clap of thunder, and it’s like whoever is up there turns on the faucet even further. In just seconds, it had begun to rain so hard, she could hardly make out Gale in front of her.

“The river could flood!” she barely hears Gale shout. “We need to go to high ground!”

“Ok!” Madge shouts back, following his retreating figure.

This time her trek in the woods is no longer made difficult by Gale’s muscles, but by how muddy the ground has already become. She’s following Gale up a pretty steep incline when she steps into a weak spot in the soil, falling roughly onto her face.

Spitting out a mouthful of mud, Madge has hardly pushed herself onto her side when she feels herself slipping down the hill.

“What are you doing?” she hears Gale call out from the top of the hill, but she ignores him, instead sticking out her foot to stop her descent.

This proves to be a huge mistake only seconds later. She must have rolled her ankle when she fell, because as soon as she puts pressure on it, it’s as if her entire leg has been set on fire.

“Madge!” she hears Gale call again, but all she can do is lie in the mud, curling in on herself so she could clutch her throbbing ankle, tears somehow making it past her tightly shut eyelids, no doubt painting an abstract picture on her face as they trailed through the mud.

Talk about a low point.

She’s about to get up and try again, when she’s turned on her back and lifted into the air.

She won’t ever forget that moment where she was suspended in the air, the raindrops falling towards her as she drew closer to them.

The beauty of the moment is interrupted when several raindrops fall directly into her wide open eyes, and as she rubs them frantically, she’s become aware that it is Gale that holds and carries her. It’s his skin that’s still somehow hot against her.

She’s a tumble of emotions by the time Gale ducks under a large rock that juts out enough that provides almost a roof as they sit beneath a ledge of Earth.  

“You good?” Gale asks as he finally sets her down. Madge stares at him dazedly, mesmerized, for some reason, by how his wet hair sticks to his head.

“Madge?” Gale speaks again, waving a hand in her face. “Did you hit your head?” Blinking, Madge returns to reality. Somewhat.

“Um, no,” she answers in an unusually high pitch. “I think I hurt my ankle.”

She jumps so high when Gale touches her bare leg, she nearly smashes her head against the rock above them.

“Uh, is it ok if I check?” Gale asks awkwardly, tipping his head towards her ankle. Embarrassed at her visceral reaction, Madge just nods.

Gale prods in an uncharacteristic show of gentleness. In the time it takes him to poke around, Madge observes him through winces and gasps. His hand was so large against her ankle, and their skin tones contrasted sharply, despite the fact Madge has always kept a decent enough tan on her. She can’t even put into words how it feels to be touched so attentively by him.

“I think it’s a sprain,” Gale diagnoses her after setting her foot down.

Madge nods again. “I thought so too.”

Gale stares at her for a moment before pulling out a square piece of cloth from the pocket of his jeans. He holds it out in the rain for a moment before reaching out with it until it hovered by her face.

“You got a little…” he trails off as he begins to wipe off the mud from her face. All Madge can do is stare into the rain as stonily as she can, because if she lets a single emotion leak, he’ll know just how overwhelmed she feels to be at the receiving end of such care from him. It didn’t help that pulling out a handkerchief was so...so Jane Austen like.

Once he’s done he stuffs the soiled hankie back into his pocket, and to her surprise, lies down next to her.

At her shocked look, he explains, “Rock is too low. My back was starting to hurt.”

Now that he mentioned it, he was rather hunched. Madge looks up; she’s short enough that she can sit with only a slight bend to her spine.

With a small sigh, Madge pushes back the hair from her face and squirms on the stiff ground, unable to get comfortable.

“You should lie down too,” Gale speaks up, his words making her cheeks burn. “Could rain for a while. Might as well get comfortable too.”

Madge looks down again, but is distracted by her own t-shirt this time. She’s wearing a white t-shirt. To clarify, she’s wearing a thin, cotton white t-shirt, with a bright blue bra on. To make it extremely clear: she’s wearing a translucent t-shirt that’s clinging to every inch of her torso, while her bright blue bra is painfully visible.

“Oh my God,” Madge groans, hiding her face behind her hands. She was beyond mortified.

“What?” Gale asks rather snappishly. She suddenly remembers his earlier suggestion.

Crossing her arms over her chest to give her a semblance of coverage, she shakes her head. “I don’t wanna put my head on dirt.”

“You can rest it on my chest,” Gale offers easily, as if that’s a very common thing two non-acquaintances did.

Madge peeks down at his bare chest and then back into the rain.

Her back will thank her, is what she tells herself as she lowers herself slowly. It’ll stop him from staring at her boobs, is what she continues to reason, even though instead of looking at them, he’ll be able to feel them pressed against his side.

She should have just laid her head flat against him, but she turns on her side so that it’s her cheek that’s flushed against his chest. It’s to keep any weight off her ankle, is what she tries to bluff to herself.

Gale has to readjust his arm since she’s lying on it, and ends up resting his hand against her hip, drawing her snug to him. A hum begins in her chest.

The rain has smoothed down the dark hair that was scattered across his torso, so all Madge feels is a firm, but soft warmth beneath her. She now understood why so many girls ached to be held by Gale. Lying there, even in the dirt in the middle of woods, with his masculine scent surrounding her and his heartbeat strumming against her cheek, Madge truly felt more content than she ever had in her entire life.

Madge could admit now she was sexually attracted to Gale. Who wasn’t? But surprisingly enough, being held by him doesn’t really turn her on- it soothes her, and with the sweet pitter-patter of the rain, combined with the smell and feel of Gale, she’s lulled into gentle sleep.

It is there, in between wakefulness and not, that she allows herself to feel without shame the deep desire she has to care for Gale. And for him to care for her.

About 15 minutes later, the rain lets up and she and Gale disentangle. Without asking, Gale lifts her again, this time on the back she could not stop staring at. Neither of them speak as he walks them back to his truck and Madge can’t help but wonder if Gale feels the same way she does.

She doesn’t know what scares her more. If he does or doesn’t.

*** “Where’s my fucking smoke?” Madge growls out irritatedly to the kitchen staff. A moment later her pack is tossed to her. Joey was always a no good sneak.

Stalking out of the back door, she lets the door slam shut behind her without a care in the world.

Her waitress job blackened her soul, it truly did. There was nothing in the universe she hated more, but the pay was decent and the tips crucial.

Just a few more months…

Taking a much-needed drag, Madge leans against the wall of the shitty diner, letting her head hang as she savored the few moments of quiet.

For a few minutes, it’s just her and the crickets, and she silently smoked her cigarette, wondering if her Mother was watching her. Wondering if she even cared what Madge was doing.

Her mind is shifting from bitterness to organic chemistry, and she’s nearly mentally completed the 3D model she has to render for her class when she hears a laugh she’d recognize anywhere.

Looking up with a speed that would be embarrassing if anyone else saw, Madge sees Gale with...

Johanna Mason

Her jaw reflexively tightens at the site of the spiky-haired woman. Johanna was a bitch. There was no other word to describe her, though whore did a good job as well. Her history with Mason went way back, but all Madge can focus on now is the way she grabs Gale’s arm playfully, and how he allows himself to be tugged.

She pulls him down enough so she can say something in his ear. He pulls away and rubs his neck nervously. She can hear his shy laughter halfway down the alleyway where she stood. She must be biting her tongue, because all Madge can taste is blood.

Mason throws her head back and says something haughtily, though Madge can’t make out the words. Gale shakes his head and she shoves him gently. When Gale slings an arm around her narrow shoulders and pulls her along, it’s as if she’s peering through a red mist of blood.

Madge tosses her cigarette down roughly before crushing it with her heel savagely.

To think, Madge was fucking stupid enough to think Gale actually cared about her. Oh, she could laugh, if she didn't want to scream. If she wasn’t blinking away tears.

***

“Hello?” Madge answers stiffly.

“Hey,” Gale responds, as if everything is fine and dandy. “I would have texted but you still have me blocked.”

“What do you want?” Madge snaps, pushing away the sudden urge to cry. She had been dangerously close to crying over Gale yesterday, but she vowed then and there- never again.

“What’s your problem?” Gale asks angrily. “I called about our fucking project, that’s what I want. Jesus.”

“You do your shit and I’ll do mine,” Madge replies back just as angrily. “I don’t get why we have to see each other every other day.”

“I’m fairly certain your period is over, so are you gonna tell me what’s actually bothering you? We were getting along fine last time we saw each other.”

More like the last time he saw her.

“Fine? You wanna see me? You can come over,” like hell she was going to make this easy on him. If he wanted an appointment, he’d have to drag his swaggering ass to her apartment.

“You sure?” Gale asks hesitantly. Madge pauses. Looking back, inviting him over was anything but a good idea, but she’d look like a pussy if she backed out now.

“If you gotta get permission from Mommy, I’ll wait, otherwise just come,” Madge tells him, not waiting for his response and hanging up.

Flinging herself across her bed, Madge buries her face into her blanket as she tries to get a fucking grip.

She had been horny. That’s it. She didn’t actually care about him. His six pack just made her brain go haywire. It was evolution at play. And the thing with Johanna? She just let her personal feelings of Johanna mix in with her animosity with Gale, creating a toxic outcome. No big deal.

Feeling a lot better, she sat up. That’s right. She was too smart for this bullshit. Madge Undersee was not the kind of girl to be hung over a guy. Especially if the guy in question was Gale freaking Hawthorne.

Yes, she’d dress in a nice blouse and skirt- her usual style, nothing too fancy, work with Gale to get their things done, and send him on his merry way, making her life would go back to normal.

She doesn’t even put on a speck of makeup, and ties up her hair in a simple ponytail. God forbid Gale be given the impression that she was dressing up for him.

She’s tidying up the living room when the door is knocked. Going over, she opens the door and let’s Gale in.

He’s wearing a brown leather jacket with a green shirt on underneath it, with a pair of simple blue jeans. He hadn’t dressed up for her

Stop that! What is wrong with you?

“Would you like something to drink?” Madge asks breaking the suddenly awkward silence. Gale seems to be shaken out of a stupor.

“Nah,” he answers quickly. “Say, is Katniss here?”

“No,” Madge says slowly. There was something noticeably off with him, but she couldn’t pinpoint what. “She’s out with Peeta.”

This seems to relax him. Probably cause he hates Peeta and vice versa.

Deciding she doesn’t want to get into whatever frat house drama that was so clearly weighing him down, Madge heads over to the couch and picks up her laptop.

“Oh,” she says when she looks at her screen. “Our professor emailed us.”

Three minutes later, they’re both sitting with grim expressions.

“So not only does he want us to test a control site, but drive twenty miles out to test where a factory is, but also find a variable to yields higher production?” Gale asks as he re-reads the email.

“Yup,” Madge intones.

“This is a fucking entry level class,” Gale curses. “He’s literally asking us to solve global warming.” She wishes he hadn’t said that, because now it’s reminded her of their time in the forest, which, at this point, feels like a dream.

“It could be a lot worse,” Madge finally says, not looking at him. “Let’s just try to figure this out.”

Except the opposite happens. They don’t make any progress, and every roadblock and dead end heightens their tempers.

It’s only when she catches him watching a youtube video, that she snaps.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Madge snarls viciously. “I have an 8 AM lab tomorrow and I’m busting my ass trying to find something that fucking works, and you’re watching monster trucks?”

“Calm down,” Gale huffs with a scowl. “We’ve been doing this for two hours straight. I’m just taking a little break.”

“No, no ‘breaks’,” Madge barks. “Do your work and then get the hell out.”

Something ugly appears on Gale’s face.

“While I’m sure Daddy dearest made his fortune violating workers rights, everyone needs a break Undersee.”

Madge can’t take it anymore. Leaning towards him, Madge brings her hand to his face and shoves it away from her violently. Not quite a slap, but just as humiliating.

“I have literally never fucking hated someone as much you,” Madge hisses, chest heaving. Gale keeps his face turned away from her, and as Madge stares at his rigid form, she wonders if she has made a very terrible mistake.

When Gale slowly turns his head back, her breath catches in her throat at the raw rage unconcealed on his face. Before she can apologize- or run, Gale has the front of her blouse in his fist and jerks her forward so that his nose is inches away from her’s.

His eyes are almost colorless with anger.

“Let me explain this in words, since you’re a woman,” Gale whispers lowly, every exhale dusting her face. “You don’t get to hit me like that. You just don’t.��

Her blood feels like it’s on fire. He’s so close to her she could count every individual eyelash if didn’t have so many. She should be afraid. She should apologize. She should shout for help.

She reaches down and takes hold of his free hand, and brings it up to rest on her breast.

Gale’s eyes widen almost comically, but he does not lower his gaze from hers. On her breast, his hand lays limp, but he also didn’t move away.

“Do you want to hurt me, Gale?” Madge whispers, scooting closer to him. His hand, instinctively or not, tightens its grip.

“No,” he answers immediately. His gaze still does not stray. That’s how she knows he’s not lying.

But Madge does not want sweetness. She doesn’t want caresses and gentle kisses. That’s too close to what her heart is so bad at hiding.

If she can have Gale Hawthorne only once, let it be all fire and violence. Consumption, not devotion.

Their lips meet in a wet frenzy, and Madge feels she has come alive as her body melts into his. Gale pulls her into his lap before slipping his tongue into her mouth. For a few moments, her senses are blurred as both her mouth and hips rock into him, the place between her legs pure liquid fire.

“Gale,” Madge moans into his mouth, legs tightening around his hips. They pull away to breathe, and Madge stares at his kissed lips and hair she messed up. And then she really feels what she’s been grinding on. Her skirt has ridden up onto her thighs, and sitting right under her panties is him.

He seems to catch her thought, because he winks and pulls her hips back and forth, simulating her earlier action. Her breath catches in her throat as she takes in how large he is.

“Let’s take things into the bedroom, hm?” Gale doesn’t wait for her answer and stands up with her in his arms. At this new angle, he pokes into her more insistently, and Madge can’t help but moan at the sensation.

“You like that baby?” Gale asks before kissing her again. This time it’s Gale who thrusts into her, and it’s all Madge can do but hold onto him for sheer life as his thick cock rubs against her cotton clad clit.

Gale pulls away again and starts kissing her neck as he walks to her bedroom. He’s been here a few times visiting Katniss, and it seems he remembers which one is hers.

He pauses when he steps into the room, taking in the surroundings.

“Minimalist,” he comments wryly.

“Shut up,” Madge growls, kissing him again. He happily complies as he lowers her onto her bed.

It’s only when Gale has pulled off his shirt (when did he take off his jacket?) and crawls over her, does Madge realize the situation has gotten totally out of hand. She didn’t want him to remember this as the day ‘Gale fucked Madge’.

She wanted it to be known as ‘Madge fucked Gale.’

She wanted to make him beg.

Placing two hands on his chest gently, Madge stops him shyly.

“Gale there’s….well, I,” Madge stutters nervously. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…”

“Sure thing baby,” Gale agrees thoughtlessly. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against her ear. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Ok,” Madge says breathlessly. “C-Could you get on your back?”

Gale pauses before rolling off her, lying down beside her.

Folding his hands beneath his head, Gale smiles cockily at her. “Your ride awaits.”

Funny.

Quickly sliding her panties off, Madge swings a leg over so that she’s straddling his chest. God did his body hair feel good on her wet cunt. Then she removes her blouse. Her bra follows similarly.

“Fuck,” Gale breathes, squeezing her breasts and pulling her down for another kiss. Although it’s not in the plan, she lets him take each breast into his mouth, because, frankly, it feels too damn good.

She pulls away though as soon as she feels herself losing control to him.

“Don’t you wanna know what I want to do?” Madge says innocently, running a finger up and down his chest.

“Go ahead,” Gale says in a strangled voice. Here, Madge hesitates. The thing is, Madge has never done this before, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. But she had a plan, and she couldn’t back out now.

Toughening her nerves, Madge crawls up until her thighs straddle his face. Gale gives her a smug smirk before she lowers herself onto his mouth.

“Oh!’

Madge nearly shrieks as Gale licks her languidly. She’s hardly steadied herself when his tongue finds her clit.

“Oh God, Gale,” Madge cries, reaching down and tangling her hands in his hair. Every stroke of his tongue felt like an injection of pure heroin. Gale hums beneath her, and when Madge looks down, her breath is stolen for a new reason.

He looks truly beautiful as he peers up at her with half-lidded eyes and her hands in his thick black hair. There was no other word.

She has a sudden rush of affection for him, and one of her hands leave his hair to gently cup his cheek.

Gale’s eyes soften as they look up at her, but Madge can’t contemplate that, because he’s stopped sucking on clit and has shot his tongue straight into her.

“Gale-oh!” Madge loses the ability to speak as his tongue finds that special part of her, and her hips begin to undulate wildly as she tries to grind herself further into his mouth. One hand in his hair, the other clutching her breast, Madge has the most intense orgasm of her life in Gale’s mouth.

Madge slumps against her headboard as she shakily returns to herself. With a sinking feeling, she realizes that she had gotten too into it, and had been unable to enact her plan. Her ashamed thoughts are interrupted when she feels Gale’s tongue down there again.

“You don’t have to do that…” Madge tries to tell him, but he holds down her hips securely and sucks her clit so hard so nearly cries tears of pleasure.

Besides making her heart pump madly, Gale’s generosity has given her a second shot at following through with her plan.

When he’s certain she won’t run away, Gale’s grip on her hips loosen, and Madge takes the opportunity to wound their fingers together, bringing his hands up to above his head. For a few moments, Madge lets his magic tongue work its wonders on her, but when silver spots begin to appear in the edge of her vision, she desperately forces her limbs into action.

Grabbing her strategically placed blouse, Madge gently winds the fabric around Gale’s wrists. And then she ties him to the headboard.

Gale seems to have been as lost as she had been, because he only realizes what’s happened when she firmly ties the knot.

Satisfied with her work, Madge gets off of his face and returns to his chest. Now it was she who smiled smugly.

His eyes flash to her threateningly, but before he can say anything, she speaks.

“You have no idea who I am,” Madge tells him dangerously. “You don’t know what I can do.”

Slowly, a smirk begins to cross his lips

“Well, I’d love a demonstration, princess,” Gale tells her saucily.

Madge smiles at him sweetly. Poor chap had no idea what he had coming.

Running her hands down his powerful chest, Madge slides back until she’s seated on him again. She’s left a trail of her wetness, making him glisten. He looks awfully satisfied, probably thinking she’s going to ride him.

She grinds into him a few times to make him complacent before she scoots further back on his legs.

“You seem eager,” Madge comments as she runs a hand up and down his bulge. Gale makes a strangled sort of grunting noise when she leans down to kiss him through the fabric.

“That’s it,” Gale says eagerly when she unzips his jeans. Unbuttoning his boxers, his erection springs free. For a moment Madge gapes at it unabashedly. How will her plan work if he won’t fit?! Despite her hesitation to take it for a test ride, her mouth inexplicably waters at the mere sight of him. She has never found any dick to be attractive, but Gale’s is so handsome, she feels a sharp tug between her legs just by staring at him

“Suck it, Madge,” Gale commands breathlessly, bucking his hips up.

“Yes, Gale,” Madge whispers, leaning down to lick the tip. Gale groans when she removes her tongue, but it's replaced when she licks the length of him, the muscles of his lower stomach already tensing.

“Do you like that?” Madge croons, licking him up and down before circling the tip.

“P-Put it in your mouth,” Gale gasps, beads of perspiration on his forehead.

Madge pretends to think. “Mm...No.”

Before Gale could complain, she ducks her head and licks the line of his balls. “Holy fucking shit,” Gale curses loudly, arms straining against his restraints.

Madge wraps a hand around the length of him, stroking him up and down slowly as she took one of his balls into her mouth. By the time she moved on to his other ball, Gale couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

She knew from the way he throbbed in her hand, he was close. Which is why she pulls away.

Gale blinks dazedly when he realizes she’s stopped.

“What’re you doing?” Gale croaks as he peered down at her.

“Having fun,” Madge answers honestly. She finally puts him in her mouth, but only till the tip.

“Fuck Madge, a little more,” Gale complains, but she pays him no heed. One hand stroking him, the other massaging his balls, and her mouth humming around the tip she sucked, she had Gale back at orgasm’s gate in seconds.

When she felt him expand in both her hand and mouth, she immediately pulls away.

“What the fuck!” Gale roars. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Madge says with a roll of her eyes.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’re a sadist freak, but if I don’t-”

“Shhh,” Madge places a finger against his lips. “You want to cum? Simple. Beg.”

Gale blinks at her as he processes her words. She thinks he’ll take up the challenge but then he says, “Madge, please, please let me cum.”

“Well that’s no fun,” Madge huffs. Standing up, Madge pulls off her skirt and tosses it behind her. “You’re going to be more convincing than that, babe.”

Gale doesn’t reply, instead staring intently at where she was most naked. Feeling utterly pleased with his reaction, Madge slowly lowers herself onto him.

Gripping him in one hand, she rubs his tip against her clit, body tremoring at the initial sensation.

“Put it in,” Gale begs. “Please, I’ll do anything- just let me fuck that cunt of yours baby.”

“You could do better than that,” Madge says through labored breathing. God knows she wanted nothing more than to have every delicious inch of him inside of her, but all good things to those who wait, right?

He’s squirming, trying to slide into her, but she keeps her grip tight, continuing to stroke him up and down as she angled herself.

She lets just the tip of him slip into her.

Dear God she could not believe how that alone felt so good.

“Well, Gale?” Madge taunts, rendering all his bucking and cursing useless as she slowly fucked herself with just his tip. Tilting her hips forward, he was suddenly pressed against the same spot Gale’s tongue had been rubbing earlier.

“Ohhh,” Madge moans, shutting her eyes and working his cock right there. She could definitely come from this alone. Gale wasn’t as lucky.

Gale seems to realize this as well, or perhaps he’s simply hit his limit.

With a roar that makes her eyes fly open in shock, Madge barely catches her blouse being torn apart as Gale frees himself.

“Ga-”

She couldn’t even finish saying his name before he’s pounced down on her, his mouth on her’s, large hands pinning down her arms as his cock pushed into her till her very hilt.

Gale lifts his lips from hers to look down at her. She’s frozen, her eyes blown open and legs trembling against his hips as her body learns the sensation of being filled totally and completely.

She blinks a few times, her vision refocusing. Gale gives her another smirk and a quick peck before he pulls out of her.

Only to slam right back into her.

It’s as if every neuron in her body has been set on some holy fire as Gale pounded in and out of her, stretching and filling her in the same instant. As he kisses her and pistons himself over and over into her, Madge loses all thoughts of vengeance and pride and control.

There is only Gale.

“Gale!” Madge cries, actual tears spilling out of her eyes as her nails dug into his shoulders. There’s no way she can formulate the boundless emotions she feels for this man in this very moment, so she continues chanting his name as he grunts against her neck. “Gale.”

“Oh fuck,” Gale shudders. “Fuck Madge, you’re too- you’re too beautiful.”

She can’t really process his words. All she is aware of is him, and how she wants all of him all of him all of him inside of her.

A/N: Heh, sorry if this wasn’t hateful enough. I tried

[chelseawolfemusic]

Chelsea Wolfe on Artist Decoded By Yoshino

Listen to the full episode here. Also available on itunes.

“What I want is to open up. I want to know what's inside me. I want everybody to open up. I'm like an imbecile with a can opener in his hand, wondering where to begin—to open up the earth. I know that underneath the mess everything is marvelous. I'm sure of it.” - Henry Miller 

Digging beneath the mess of the world to find the beauty underneath is perhaps the most consistent theme in Chelsea Wolfe’s expansive discography—a theme that ties together her ceaseless explorations in unorthodox textures, haunting melodies, and mining the grandeur embedded within ugliness and pain. With her sixth official album Hiss Spun, Wolfe adopts Miller’s quest to become empowered by embracing the mess of the self, to control the tumult of the soul in hopes of reigning in the chaos of the world around us. “I wanted to write some sort of escapist music; songs that were just about being in your body, and getting free,” Wolfe says of the album before extrapolating on the broader scope of her new collection of songs. “You’re just bombarded with constant bad news, people getting fucked over and killed for shitty reasons or for no reason at all, and it seems like the world has been in tears for months, and then you remember it’s been fucked for a long time, it’s been fucked since the beginning. It’s overwhelming and I have to write about it.” 

Hiss Spun was recorded by Kurt Ballou in Salem, Massachusetts at the tail end of winter 2017 against a backdrop of deathly quiet snow-blanketed streets and the hissing radiators of warm interiors. While past albums operated on the intimacy of stripped-down folkmusic (The Grime and the Glow, Unknown Rooms), or the throbbing pulse of supplemental electronics (Pain Is Beauty, Abyss), Wolfe’s latest offering wrings its exquisiteness out of a palette of groaning bass, pounding drums, and crunching distortion. It’s an album that inadvertently drew part of its aura from the cold white of the New England winter, though the flesh-and-bone of the material was culled from upheavals in Wolfe’s personal life, and coming to terms with years of vulnerability, anger, self-destruction, and dark family history. Aside from adding low-end heft with gratuitous slabs of fuzz bass, longtime collaborator Ben Chisholm contributed harrowing swaths of sound collages from sources surrounding the artist and her band in recent years—the rumble of street construction at a tour stop in Prague, the howl of a coyote outside Wolfe’s rural house in California, the scrape of machinery on the floor of a warehouse at a down-and-out friend’s workplace. Music is rendered out of dissonance—bomb blasts from the Enola Gay, the shriek of primates, the fluttering pages of a Walt Whitman book are manipulated and seamlessly integrated into the feral and forlorn songs of Hiss Spun. 

The album opens with the sickening bang of “Spun”, where a lurching bottom-heavy riff provided by Chisholm and Troy Van Leeuwen (Queens of the Stone Age, Failure) serves as a foundation to a sultry mantra of fever-dream longing and desire. The first third of Hiss Spun—whether it’s the ominous twang and cataclysmic dynamics of “16 Psyche”, the icy keyboard lines, restless pulse and harrowing bellows of Aaron Turner (Old Man Gloom, SUMAC) on “Vex”, or the patient repetition and devastating choruses of “The Culling—all carry the weight of desperation, lost love, and withdrawal. Wolfe’s introspection and existential dread turns outwards to the crumbling world around us with “Particle Flux”, an examination of the casualties of war set against an aural sea of static. White noise is a constant thread through Hiss Spun, with Wolfe finding solace in the knowledge that radio static is the sound of the universe expanding outwards from the Big Bang—a reminder that even dissonance has ties to creation. The electronic thump of “Offering” serves as an ode to the Salton Sea and the encroaching calamities stemming from climate change. The obsession with white noise and global destruction carries over into “Static Hum”, where the merciless percussive battery of Wolfe’s former bandmateand current drummer Jess Gowrie helps deliver the dire weight of a sonnet dedicated to a “burning planet.” By the time the album closes with “Scrape”, Wolfe has come full circle and turned her examinations back inward, reflecting over her own mortality with arguably the most commanding vocal performance in her entire oeuvre. 

“The album is cyclical, like me and my moods,” Wolfe says of Hiss Spun. “Cycles, obsession, spinning, centrifugal force—all with gut feelings as the center of the self.” And it’s an album that Wolfe sees as a kind of exorcism. “I’m at odds with myself… I got tired of trying to disappear. The record became very personal in that way. I wanted to open up more, but also create my own reality.” Every Chelsea Wolfe album is cathartic, but never before has both the artist and her audience so desperately needed this kind of emotional purging. Sargent House is proud to release Hiss Spun to the world on September 22nd, 2017. 

Topics Discussed In This Episode: 

Her radio show through Red Bull Music Academy called "Hypnos Hour"  The process of discovering yourself as an artist  The novel "1Q84" written by Haruki Murakami  The film "The Seventh Seal" directed by Ingmar Bergman  Writing lyrics and song writing  Psychedelics opening up access portals  Her collaboration with Converge  Her new album "Hiss Spun" 

www.chelseawolfe.net

[sargenthouse]

Chelsea Wolfe on Artist Decoded by Yoshino

Listen to the full episode here. Also available on itunes.

“What I want is to open up. I want to know what's inside me. I want everybody to open up. I'm like an imbecile with a can opener in his hand, wondering where to begin—to open up the earth. I know that underneath the mess everything is marvelous. I'm sure of it.” - Henry Miller 

Digging beneath the mess of the world to find the beauty underneath is perhaps the most consistent theme in Chelsea Wolfe’s expansive discography—a theme that ties together her ceaseless explorations in unorthodox textures, haunting melodies, and mining the grandeur embedded within ugliness and pain. With her sixth official album Hiss Spun, Wolfe adopts Miller’s quest to become empowered by embracing the mess of the self, to control the tumult of the soul in hopes of reigning in the chaos of the world around us. “I wanted to write some sort of escapist music; songs that were just about being in your body, and getting free,” Wolfe says of the album before extrapolating on the broader scope of her new collection of songs. “You’re just bombarded with constant bad news, people getting fucked over and killed for shitty reasons or for no reason at all, and it seems like the world has been in tears for months, and then you remember it’s been fucked for a long time, it’s been fucked since the beginning. It’s overwhelming and I have to write about it.” 

Hiss Spun was recorded by Kurt Ballou in Salem, Massachusetts at the tail end of winter 2017 against a backdrop of deathly quiet snow-blanketed streets and the hissing radiators of warm interiors. While past albums operated on the intimacy of stripped-down folkmusic (The Grime and the Glow, Unknown Rooms), or the throbbing pulse of supplemental electronics (Pain Is Beauty, Abyss), Wolfe’s latest offering wrings its exquisiteness out of a palette of groaning bass, pounding drums, and crunching distortion. It’s an album that inadvertently drew part of its aura from the cold white of the New England winter, though the flesh-and-bone of the material was culled from upheavals in Wolfe’s personal life, and coming to terms with years of vulnerability, anger, self-destruction, and dark family history. Aside from adding low-end heft with gratuitous slabs of fuzz bass, longtime collaborator Ben Chisholm contributed harrowing swaths of sound collages from sources surrounding the artist and her band in recent years—the rumble of street construction at a tour stop in Prague, the howl of a coyote outside Wolfe’s rural house in California, the scrape of machinery on the floor of a warehouse at a down-and-out friend’s workplace. Music is rendered out of dissonance—bomb blasts from the Enola Gay, the shriek of primates, the fluttering pages of a Walt Whitman book are manipulated and seamlessly integrated into the feral and forlorn songs of Hiss Spun. 

The album opens with the sickening bang of “Spun”, where a lurching bottom-heavy riff provided by Chisholm and Troy Van Leeuwen (Queens of the Stone Age, Failure) serves as a foundation to a sultry mantra of fever-dream longing and desire. The first third of Hiss Spun—whether it’s the ominous twang and cataclysmic dynamics of “16 Psyche”, the icy keyboard lines, restless pulse and harrowing bellows of Aaron Turner (Old Man Gloom, SUMAC) on “Vex”, or the patient repetition and devastating choruses of “The Culling—all carry the weight of desperation, lost love, and withdrawal. Wolfe’s introspection and existential dread turns outwards to the crumbling world around us with “Particle Flux”, an examination of the casualties of war set against an aural sea of static. White noise is a constant thread through Hiss Spun, with Wolfe finding solace in the knowledge that radio static is the sound of the universe expanding outwards from the Big Bang—a reminder that even dissonance has ties to creation. The electronic thump of “Offering” serves as an ode to the Salton Sea and the encroaching calamities stemming from climate change. The obsession with white noise and global destruction carries over into “Static Hum”, where the merciless percussive battery of Wolfe’s former bandmateand current drummer Jess Gowrie helps deliver the dire weight of a sonnet dedicated to a “burning planet.” By the time the album closes with “Scrape”, Wolfe has come full circle and turned her examinations back inward, reflecting over her own mortality with arguably the most commanding vocal performance in her entire oeuvre. 

“The album is cyclical, like me and my moods,” Wolfe says of Hiss Spun. “Cycles, obsession, spinning, centrifugal force—all with gut feelings as the center of the self.” And it’s an album that Wolfe sees as a kind of exorcism. “I’m at odds with myself… I got tired of trying to disappear. The record became very personal in that way. I wanted to open up more, but also create my own reality.” Every Chelsea Wolfe album is cathartic, but never before has both the artist and her audience so desperately needed this kind of emotional purging. Sargent House is proud to release Hiss Spun to the world on September 22nd, 2017. 

Topics Discussed In This Episode: 

Her radio show through Red Bull Music Academy called "Hypnos Hour"  The process of discovering yourself as an artist  The novel "1Q84" written by Haruki Murakami  The film "The Seventh Seal" directed by Ingmar Bergman  Writing lyrics and song writing  Psychedelics opening up access portals  Her collaboration with Converge  Her new album "Hiss Spun" 

www.chelseawolfe.net

[herotheshiro]

i wanted to post this online somewhere but didn’t know where to put it (not really something to put on any of my IG accounts and if you stay w me for the rest of this post you’ll know why i didn’t put it on twitter) and i almost forgot tumblr existed and no one really uses it (i.e., my sibling doesn’t follow this account. was going to put this on my personal blog which my sibling also doesn’t follow but i feel like this blog is better in the end) so good place to put it and let me release my thoughts. [put it under cut bc it’s pretty long lol]

but basically one of the worst decisions i’ve made in the last half yr is become active on twitter. i made an account back in october to try to order some hipmaic merch from a proxy which ultimately failed and had unexpected personal blowbacks as well... that in itself should have already indicated the dumpster fire that twitter would become for me (from the bad vibes of that failure i mean) but unfortunately in the time before i knew the proxy was going to fail, i got absorbed into fandom twitter. for whatever reason i have this weird thing of wanting to become fandom famous or like fandom well-known, which i think is partially due to me wanting to be like my sibling who sort of became a recognizable name due to their fanworks in some of their fandoms in the past. i feel like i used to kind of have that kind of recognition back during the young deviantart days but since i don’t really produce/publish fanworks anymore, i’ve gotten to liveblogging/livetweeting as my attempts to fame. ik some ppl have succeeded off of that, based on some of the ppl i’ve followed for a number of fandoms in the past few years, so i thought i could do it too ... but alas as y’all know, the internet is a big place and it’s hard to get ppl to care abt your one voice. and ppl noticing you also sometimes happens in unwanted ways, like that whole thing i got stressed over re: a/3 which i think i blogged abt on this blog before ... i mean still not even 100% they were referring to me specifically w that vague tweetinig but i was stupidly anxious over dumb shit like that.

also, as everyone knows, once you really get into a fandom, there is always the absolute mess of “problematic” content/call-outs. sometimes it’s valid critiques of the series content, sometimes it’s over stupid ass petty inter-fan drama. and even if you’re not involved in the drama itself, it’s so tiring to have to witness all the passive aggressive (or sometimes outright aggressive) tweets ... esp in this current global pandemic situation where we’re already getting negative news re: our real lives. i’m writing up this post really in response to me reading through threads of ppl calling out the problematic ways hipmaic handles hip hop/black culture which is definitely valid and basically something i’ve always been aware of even when i first came into the fandom bc non-black iterations of hip hop culture (esp overseas) usually do not hit the mark .... even though i’ve been aware of all this shit, it’s so tiring to read through and then the guilt of still consuming the fandom even w its flaws (which is still something you can do as long as you acknowledge the flaws and problematic aspects. but it also depends on the series i suppose, like imo a/o/t is just shit that prob shouldn’t be consumed lol, which is also funny bc i used to consume it a long time ago but that was like way before the timeskip like when the anime first got released ... i mean this kind of opinion/perspective is fraught w so many asterisks so i’m not going to go into it further but hopefully you get what i mean even if you’re not hearing all of my personal footnotes)... like i don’t think i’m going to give up hipmaic yet, bc i still do enjoy some of its music and i do enjoy seeing character content, but adding twitter to my life was honestly a goddamn mistake. not only for that one case of anxiety re: a/3 but also just me purposely consuming fans’ content that i literally KNOW will piss me off but i still do anyways. it’s tiring to read some of the comments hipmaic fans say, and a few months ago i wanted to interact re: headcanons and stuff but now i’m like you know what. keep your frankly incorrect and inaccurate headcanons to yourself (partly sarcastic but you know when you read a thinkpiece and you respect them for voicing their opinion but it’s also “wrong” at the same time...).

like recently i’ve gotten to thinking to literally just blocking any twitter account that talks abt hyp mic and just restricting my twitter to non-fandom stuff or japanese twitter accounts where i don’t understand what stupid shit they’re saying (if any). and also let’s not get into what a time-suck scrolling through twitter has become for me ... i’m already depressed and completely unmotivated to do work, and twitter is just a major procrastination device to continue wrecking my academic and professional lives and productivity ... i don’t have the app, but i can still access it through safari so of course it’s still a stick in my wheel. i really need to follow what my sibling said and try to rarely go on it and if i do, just stick to my dash and don’t stray too far out (i.e., looking up shit in the search bar). tbh, IG and twitter are both huge time-wasters for me, and i seriously need to consider deleting social media in general or at least for a good chunk of time which is something i wanted to do literally 2 yrs ago but just never did ... ik some of my friends are relatively inactive on social media (they do have it but they just never post or anything) and i really really need to be like that. everything for me (like many ppl at this time i assume) is remote, and i know from past experience that i am VERY BAD at being productive when doing remote working. and having IG/twitter drains is definitely going to make that worse, especially since they’re already major distractors when i AM physically going to school/work. i feel like i’ve tried to cut cold-turkey before, but i usually never keep up the block for long ... it’s also due to a lack of motivation in general (this is a whole other monster of a topic that should be put on my personal blog LMAO) but i need to just try to cut things that i have some control over that could further contribute to my lack of productivity.

tl;dr

fandom twitter truly is a dumpster fire

twitter itself is helping ruin my life (not bc of anything happening on it but just its presence)

i am just purposely consuming bad news and shitty takes and making myself feel worse and i need to stop