#the anomalys

[dustedmagazine]

The Anomalys — Down the Hole (Slovenly)

Once a band comes out of hibernation, there’s no telling what they’ll do. The Anomalys, a rough-cut garage band out of Amsterdam, re-emerged in 2022 after a 12-year hiatus, older perhaps but not noticeably wiser, cranking ferocious, block-simple punk rock out of the standard rock line-up.

The band draws members of King Khan’s European circle of acquaintances—Remi Pablo on furious, rapturous drums and French punk guitarist Looch Vibrato of MAGNETIX and Louder Than Death. The band leader, known as BONE, plays another guitar. There is no bass, though someone’s making heavy use of the fat strings on his guitar.

This is the sort of music best honed live, and the Anomalys have spent the last two years playing a shit-ton of shows. “Anxiety,” an early single, rolls maniacally forward like a freight train with blown brakes coming down a hill. The energy is high, but it’s funneled through a narrow channel, a repeated surf riff that juts upwards like a question, then answers itself plummeting down. The drums meanwhile go off like firecrackers on a string, stuttering a beat in between regular crackling explosions. There are no vocals on this cut, it doesn’t need them. Two and a half minute of frenzy crashes into a wall.

“Despair” is the other single, and if you’re sensing a downer theme, take heart. It gallops and hurtles and pulls up sharp in raging, head-bashing spasms, running as fast and hard as a rock song can go. The band may have been paralyzed with dread and jitters when they conceived these tracks, but you’ll receive them as a double jolt of adrenaline.

The Anomalys begs comparisons with brute force punkers like Gino and the Goons and, though they’re less goofy, Personal and the Pizzas, but though they’re not in the subtlety game, they’re not sloppy either. “Coke Head” hitches a screaming guitar riff to pounding, annihilating drums, and it’s as tight as it is on fire. You can hear it in the sudden stops, blinding bits of white space in a blitzed out barrage of noise. They’re as clean as a white-out blot, everybody pulling up at once.

I reviewed Glitch a couple of years ago, noting that, “The sound is loud and primitive, sped up like a locomotive with its back cars on fire,” and that, at least, hasn’t changed. Down the Hole is better though, tightly held together even as it careens most wildly. Glitch woke up the beast, but Down the Hole sets it free to rampage.

Jennifer Kelly

[slovenlyrecordings]

This February 24th, it’s the return of LO-LITE in Amsterdam, with MOTORMOUTH, PANTER and DJ’s Bone from Anomalys and Jasper Salvaje!

HIP! DIG!

[ellenchain]

I am Jayce

[musickickztoo]

CONTRA2024-14

22092024 (ALL NEW)

TRACKLIST:

Jon Spencer - Wrong Dinosaur Jr. - Brooklyn The Ex - The Evidence Lambrini Girls - Company Culture Thunder Queens - Cannonball The Anomalys - Anxiety Jack White - Bombing Out clipping. - Run It Together Pangea - Lost Traum - Shoeshine Wand - The Leap Weak Signal - ILF Goat - Goatbrain (radio edit) Tramhaus - Worthwhile The Ex - Great! Die Nerven - Grosse Taten Bon Iver - S P E Y S I D E Wild Billy Childish and the North Kent Folkways Revival - This Wound'rous Day

The 14th playlist of the year!!

LISTEN: https://www.mixcloud.com/Contraflow/contra2024-14-22092024-all-new/

[thoughtswordsaction]

The Anomalys - Down The Hole LP (Slovenly Records)

When it comes to channeling the feral energy of late-sixties garage rock and blending it with the raw edge of seventies New York punk, few bands do it with as much fervor as The Anomalys. Their latest release, Down The Hole, is a blistering reminder that rock ‘n’ roll is far from dead—it’s alive, kicking, and foaming at the mouth. This album is a visceral ride through a sonic landscape that’s as…

[doctorsiren]

I keep thinking about that AU concept where Ford goes to find Stan *before* he ever went to Gravity Falls and ough these brothers just make me so ill ☹️

[ryemiffie]

Guys.. Stan canonically writes fanfiction, presumably posting it to ao3.. I bet that man has got the ultimate author's curse notes

"Sorry I'm late to update guys! Got arrested by the federal government for stealing materials from them to rebuild an interdimensional portal to save my long lost twin brother! But hopefully things will be more consistent now that I'm done saving him!"

"My bad for this being so rushed, currently living through the literal apacolypse!"

"Didn't mean for this too take so long y'all, had to reread the whole fic to refresh my memory after getting my brain wiped to kill the demon who used to date my brother, y'all know how it is!"

[lgbtiwtv]

in light of recent events

[sapphiresaphics]

I love how Arcane utilizes the meta language of film and digital media to convey its story.

The most obvious example of this is Jinx’s scratchy hallucinations. This is an exceptionally old film technique where you literally scratch the emulsion off of the film stock frame by frame. When done correctly this results in these sharp jagged gaps in the film that light shines through, resulting in this scratchy inconsistent effect.

So whenever Jinx is having a psychotic moment, the screen takes on the qualities of film stock and becomes irregular and out of focus, almost as if whoever was scratching those lines literally took the film out of the camera, scratch it, and then is trying to re-insert it back into the shot.

There are other meta-like moments in Arcane too. In season 2 when Vi punches the jaw guy in the pit fighter scene, her punch is SO STRONG that it literally dislodges the film reel briefly. Which is hilarious to me!

But the most interesting thing about this use of meta film language to tell the story is when the Anomaly comes into play. We first get glimpses of this when Jayce is walking through the storm right before exiting into the clearing at the top of the hexgate.

Instead of scratched film and other physical media tricks, the screen starts to… glitch. Like a faulty LCD TV monitor or a bad digital broadcast signal.

We never see this effect around any other parts of the show. ONLY around the anomaly and other moments where the Arcane is coming through.

And I think the reason they do this is because it makes the Arcane feel other worldly. Up into now all the visual effects and subtle tricks have been based on physical media. Film scratches, out of focus reels, dirt on the film stock, noticeable film splicing, projection issues, etc. It’s always been quirks of physical media.

But the Arcane is different. It’s not of this world. It’s MAGIC. So they switch to using noticeable digital effects when the Arcane starts acting up. Screen tearing. Streaming glitches. Color blocks and signal loss.

I just think that’s really cool. They could’ve just kept using film language to tell the story, but they use our familiarity with film language and start mixing it up to convey the magical other worldly nature of the Arcane. How cool is that?

[hinamie]

noir

[cavillscurls]

MESS OF MINE

joel miller x f!reader

You needn’t think—not when he’s here.

warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson!Joel. Soft!Joel. Established relationship. Fluff. Intimacy. Praise. References to past smut. Reader is in a pretty heavy sub-space. Dom/sub dynamics. Daddy kink. DD/lg dynamics—seriously, do not read if this off puts you. Caregiver!Joel to the max. Pet names (baby, little one, good girl, darling). A smidge of grinding/dry humping. Brief reference to food aversion. Food consumption. wc: 1.8k

You haven’t left his house in three days.

Haven’t had to. Snowed in. The blizzard that’s taken Jackson by storm an absolute blessing in disguise.

And sure, you feel for Maria and the strain it’s put on organizing her patrol routes. You know plenty of mothers struggle to entertain cabin-fevered-children, and you sympathize with those who have to make treks for rations they hadn’t prepared for.

Still, you can’t help but revel in the selfishness. It’s his fault, really. What else does he expect three days of doting will do to a girl?

You’re on the floor in his living room. Tummy down on the center of the rug, socked toes facing the fire he’s carefully tended to. You’re in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties, nothing else. You don’t need much else. When the flames aren’t keeping you warm enough, he’s happy to compensate.

There’s a soft tune buzzing from the record player, and you take the time to savor the words on the pages splayed out before you. You’ve been reading a little slower today. Everything seems to slow down when he’s got you like this.

You don’t think you could ever tire of the life you’ve lived these past three days. Joel always takes care of you, in every way, big and small. But there’s been a shift towards all that is so big, the lack of responsibility and expectations allowing you to sink deeper into the roles you both understand well.

So he takes the weight of everything big, promises to nurture it, and handle it with care. And you relish in the freedom that is feeling so small, releasing your usual tension and burdens for an aloofness that would otherwise not be acceptable. You’re not sure how long you’ll have it, and you aren’t willing to spare a moment.

Your mind wanders, less focused on the words inscribed before you and more on the images that paint your memory. That of his hands, that have gently washed your hair. That lay out your clothes—or lack thereof—and deliver you cups of tea. That glide over your skin morning, noon, and night, coaxing breath and cries alike. That hold you still, close, when he sucks on your neck and fills your womb, the remedy for all grievances. Silences your mind, the numbness bright and freeing.

“Baby?” he beckons, and it sounds like he’s repeating himself. Like you didn’t hear him the first time, and perhaps you didn’t. Too entranced by the cozy little oasis he’s created around you, for you.

You cast your eyes towards his voice, dripping in honey, the way that always makes your belly warm. He’s leaning in the archway between the kitchen and living room, a gentle smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“Are ya hungry?” he asks, and you scrunch up your nose.

Admittedly, you’ve been a bit indolent. But it’s easy to languish in the comforts of mindlessness when he makes it so easy. You haven’t cleaned a single dish, washed a single article of clothing, or cooked a single meal, in three days. You’ve hardly walked from room to room without Joel adamantly at your side. The lack of energy exertion squanders your appetite.

He tsks his tongue and slants his eyes at you disapprovingly.

“C’mon, baby. You’ve hardly eaten today. Let me make you a snack at least, yeah?”

You sigh. You don’t want to give him a hard time, even if it’s only for the sake of regaining his attention. So, you offer him a lackluster nod, and he smiles in return—something prideful, that of a man who is pleased to preserve you, and even more so when you’re willing to let him.

He disappears into the kitchen for a handful of moments, and when he returns, sets the plate of chopped veggies down on the coffee table. You sit up, and instead of reaching for it, extend your arms towards him. An overwhelming desire to be held takes you, as it has for these many days, many times. He’s been off doing chores for nearly an hour now, and you can feel yourself growing impatient, needy.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chastises, shaking his head and stepping back just out of reach. He isn’t fazed by the pout that befalls your lips. “Not till you finish your food.”

You huff, making a show out of crawling your way to the edge of the table and snatching one of the carrots up. You peer up at him as you bring it between your teeth, taking an aggressive chomp out of it as if to prove that even though you’ll listen, it doesn’t mean you’ll like it.

Joel shakes his head and chuckles, pleasantly amused. He approaches you while you chew, knees to your nose, and you crane your neck back to get a good view of him like this. So close, towering, and dripping with power and ease. You’ve never known anyone so mighty, yet so loving.

He reaches a hand down and gingerly pets the crown of your head. “That’s a good girl,” he muses, and the low purr of his voice sends a pang of want through your gut.

You chew a little faster now. Make sure he knows how good you are, how good you’ll remain for him and him alone.

A soft little whimper leaves your throat at the loss of his hand, and the sight of him turning back towards the kitchen.

“Just gotta finish a couple more things, darlin’,” he calls over his shoulder. “I expect to find that plate clean when I come back!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you think, turning your attention toward the colorful spread. As if your body means to spite you, you feel a sudden grumble in your stomach. You are feeling pretty hungry, and he knows. He always knows.

You eat slowly but steadily, determined now to finish before he returns. He’s scooped a spoonful of Tommy’s homemade hummus on the side, the flavors making you bounce a little in delight. The chickpeas are out of season, and Joel only has a handful of his share left for the winter, but he always gives you extra. He knows how much you enjoy it, and the selflessness of the act today only furthers your growing want.

Fifteen minutes pass before you hear his footsteps return towards the living room, and you’re swallowing your last mouthful. He shuffles his way towards the couch, and you watch in silent fascination as he lowers himself with a heavy groan and crack of his knees. He sighs, spreading his meaty thighs wide, and letting his eyes close for a brief moment. You know, despite how much he enjoys his time with you, the days cooped up haven't been easy on him. He’s a doer by nature, perhaps the exact reason he’s channeled all of his energy into caring for you.

His eyes find you as soon as they open, and you wait with bated breath for him to pat a palm against one of his thighs.

“C’mon now,” he murmurs. You don’t need to be told twice.

You abandon your empty plate, which he acknowledges with an approving nod, and slowly crawl your way around the coffee table. You nudge yourself between his feet, rising to your knees, flashing him wide eyes, and waiting for his hands to grip you under your arms and scoop you into his lap. You’re all flimsy limbs and needy fingers, straddling the mass of him—the stretch that you feel in your inner thighs does not go unnoticed, much to accommodate—and wrapping your arms eagerly around his shoulders. You bury your nose into his neck, slumping into his chest, and sigh.

You’re warm, and content, and full, and so small.

He hums, the deep sound rattling through his chest into yours, and you shiver both at the sound and the gentle touch of his fingertip tracing over your bare thighs. You can’t help but wiggle in closer, the rough friction of jeans against your soft cotton panties dizzying.

“Daddy,” you whisper, voice raspy with disuse.

Gentle touches turn to kneads, palm-fulls of your thighs squeezed between his fingers, one hand drifting up and taking a handful of your ass. His touch is grounding, comforting. Turns your body into molasses so you may drip into him with ease, head fuzzy, inundated by his sheer presence. Your eyes droop shut, and a little yawn creeps up through your throat.

“S’about that time, little one.” His voice is so soft, it’s hardly there. Like coaxing a baby animal out of hiding. “Should get ya settled for a nap.”

You whine a sound of protest, but make no effort to move. He’s right, of course. You could fall asleep right here, right now. Bathed in his warmth, the crackle of the fire, the soft tunes. His other hand has trailed up your spine, drawing soothing circles, lulling you in.

“M’not tired.” A lie, but you’re greedy. Greedy as your cunt he hasn’t touched all morning, that starts to grind gently against the front of his jeans. “Wanna play, Daddy,” you mutter into his neck, placing a chaste kiss on the vein that protrudes there.

A low growl settles in his chest, but his hand at your backside slides towards your hip, wrapping his fingers around it and holding you still. You can feel him swell below you, all the restraint in the world unable to stop him from reacting to you the way he does. The way he always does. He’s turned you greedy.

“How about,” he starts, his tone one of reason, though it drops an octave with desire, “you take your nap right here on Daddy’s lap, and he’ll wake you when it’s time, hm?”

You admire his restraint, you really do. You also cannot deny how good he is, tactful in the way he lets his hand trail all the way up your back until it’s woven into your hair, scratching gentle circles across your scalp, the way he always does when you need help falling asleep.

Your breathing slows, eyes still screwed shut, but you give him another humph of disagreement, and he chuckles. He presses your nose deeper into his neck, wraps a heavy arm fully around you now, and flushes you against him, using the weight of his hold to settle you.

Yeah, he’s good.

“One hour, that’s all,” he reasons.

You sigh, already nodding off somewhere between sleep and wake, the dull thrum in your lower belly overcome by the sensations of slumber.

“You swear it?” you press, and he places a kiss on your temple.

You feel his smile against your skin, brighter than the sun itself. And you’re reminded, just before you slip away, how lucky you are for the gift of mindlessness. A silent promise to yourself that when you wake, you’ll cherish the dwindling hours of the day, unsure if tomorrow holds the same luxury.

“On my life.”

[oblique-lane]

Anomaly Diversion (Chapter 3) IS OUT!

The day RED Sniper spared an injured BLU Scout, he noticed that something about this guy was suspiciously off. In fact, he had long ago begun to notice: there was *something* off about everything around here. Or in other words, how does it feel to find out that all this time the people you and your friends fought... Were your clones? Who the REDs and the BLUs actually were? What other horrors were hidden from mere mercenaries? And what was wrong with the 'faces'? Scout and Sniper from the opposing teams secretly bond together to find this out. Welcome to a story of forbidden friendship, conspiracy, and existential dread!

Tags: Gen, Explicit, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death; Themes of Dissociation/Derealization, Suicidal themes, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of life, Spotlight for every character.

[ENG] AO3

[RUS] Ficbook

Вy ObliqueLane

[forgettable-au]

END OF CHAPTER ONE

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 65-72)

* Time to put this puzzle together.

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[rolypolypellmell]

Alvinho, the albino giant anteater (he’s wearing a GPS collar).

[sleevebuscemii]

plot and wedding vows and earth shattering subtext aside catws delivered action like it was a sport. winter solider showing up in the middle of the goddamn road with a bazooka. SIDE STEP as the SUV flips over like. the elevator scene. theeeeeee knife fight the hand to hand combat. not to mention winter soldiers entire design the belts and the buckles and the Metal arm exposed and the goggles and the fitted mask and the Eyeliner and. the hair. and steve with the Dark Blue Stealth Suit. je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier. on va VOIR. backflip kick the guy in the face. crazy.