#weird mix of everything feeling raw and fresh while also so far away because most of the rlly bad stuff happened before about feb this year

[jarvis-cockhead]

i dont rlly have a big following here at all but i do appreciate anyone who interacts with my stuff immensely and suddenly felt the need to say it. ive been going through some stuffTM and its been a whole ass time and im still reeling tbh. it has been a hell of a time but tumblr still feels like such a cozy comfy place .. i forever long to connect more with people here but never know how. anyway idk where this post is going but haii hi im still here forever just a little funny in the head rn :3

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hello babes!!! OMG, today has been a long week! A wonderful, dream big come true week! HARRY IS SOLO ON THE COVER OF VOGUE! Also, I have a new installment of Tryst for you all based on this 👆photo! Without further ado, I give you...

Scotland!

It's the pose that does it.

She's been so,  mon dieu she hates the moral judgment of the word. But it remains the right one here, in any language. Soo good, since she decided he couldn't give her what she needed, or maybe wasn't ready to, or didn't see her like that. Nothing more than a flying fuck when he got itchy on the road and she was available to scratch.

But here she was, with his encompassing form around her back and his arm causally slung across her collarbone and she could barely keep her lip from between her teeth to smile.

Smile for the camera, Helene. He'd whispered in her ear and she was thankful for their blustery setting the clothing covering her chill bumps.

All day, She'd been trying to keep dry and get some candid shots to go into the vault. Sometimes she wondered why they paid her to take so many images, most of them, a greater preportion than usual, just lived in her computer or Jeff's computer never to be used.

Would they ever release them? To the utter delight and meltdowns of this man's rabid fans.

She gets it, Helene does. What they see in him, she sees it herself often. And she sees more, his dick has made her soul smile on more than one occasion. It didn't start with these libidinous thoughts, it wasn't one of those moments where he was a living lighthouse or hedonism personified. It's the first scene with the imaginary fish and he's having a bit or trouble. He's also cold and wet. Which are two sensations he doesn't love, but seems to include in every damn piece of art he makes. He's throwing the little bean bag onto the rock and it's not meant to be gentle exactly, but he seems irritated, not concerned as you would be for a suicidal fish when you yourself are suicidal. His character at least. Thank god. But his physical discomfort is intruding on his ability to act right now; he's barely holding on. He loses his balance while frustrated and falls into the water, cursing.

Helene will not laugh.

She hides her giggles while they change him. He got his Gucci denim outfit uncomfortably wet. Why would you chose that outfit to go to a watery death? She is overthinking. As always.

He's ready to go again, fresh Gucci down to his drawers, and by the 10th take, he's in the swing.

When Harry nails it, He gives the director and Helene the biggest grin and she's charmed. The lights have turned on and the fog has lifted. He shines.

He is finished with this set up and Helene has just put her gear away. Harry brushes past her to get around a rock and presses an affectionate kiss to the easily accessible top of her head.

"Thanks for coming, Tiny. Know it's cold."

Helene smiles at him, and somebody else with a camera, someone not her, clicks their picture.

It's always weird when she is the subject. She's pretty sure she has more photos with Harry, selfies at least than with any boyfriend she has had, in her life, which flashes before her eyes, with a highlight reel of her beneath Harry, while he turns her around towards the camera.

The arm that was across her scapula, turns her like a top and her stomach flutters with the motion. His motion. His arm has come across her clavicle, like it did in LA, and she comes together like the place in between those bones, a shallow place where her heartbeat is thumping visibly.

She's thrumming.

Not that there is a damn thing she can do about it. He can do about it. Anybody can, they have so much work to do.

The quiver in her chest and bones and betwixt her legs stays with her all day. Through lunch with all the people she's missed on their break, around the lunch Harry's had cooked for them, with all the little flourishes he likes. All the different food needs accommodated, hospitality on show. It's a wonderful midday after a bitter morning, the sun's even peaked through. The whole group brims with happinesss. Helene and her table included, she laughs and kisses Molly's cheek, she's so cute.

She stays away from Harry though, through at least theee set ups, one not involving him where she could see his intention to hover and smell her pent scent. So, she puts distance, physically between them all day, especially when they move on to the shoot at the docks.

She's taking far away shots. It was easier to control the pulse at her center when he was in the loose jumpsuit. Now in the tight sweater vest, where he looks like some movie star from a bygone era, she's struggling.

It's sending her. Fly her to the moon.

So she keeps her distance and captures him from afar. She'd been doing so well.

Still is! She reminds herself.

The day is long because of her longing, but Helene makes it through.

"You coming to the pub." She jumps a bit at his breath near her ear, her hair is stirred by its breeze. She's surprised, she can usually feel his approach 10 paces off.

"No, need my bed." She begs off. She's begging he doesn't press, with those puppy dog eyes and dimples he knows how to wield.

"Really?" He pouts. "Need your company." He insists.

Oh, he's reached for the big ammunition, he's used everything in his arsenal, he's even touching her arm. He turns her again and she knows she going to say yes before he bites his lip and says, "please."

"Qui." She exhales. She'd like to qualify the sigh as resigned, but it's full of breath and melodic.

"Yes!" He presses a kiss to her forehead and squeezes her before he wanders off to gather troops.

So much for distance.

The pub is lovely, if their wine selection a bit limited. She can see why Harry picked this for his fictional island. He has excellent taste and this is so picturesque and any number of stories, real and imagined, could be contained in its Walls.

He tastes excellent.

He's across the room holding court. He's a little drunk, and he's just thrown his head back and she can remember the shape of his Adam's Apple on her tongue, and the taste. God the taste of his skin, especially after a show. Her lips would be raw from the salt afterwards, and dual thirsts would greet her in the morning light. Water with something more mineral from his skin.

Helene gulps her wine and tries to tune back in to the English around her. The mix of accents and the still difficult language is enough for her to have to get her mind out of the gutter intentionally to follow along.

Not the gutter, Harry's room.

She's squinting and translating something someone has said in her head and wondering how many times somebody has refilled her glass when another intoxicant fills her senses.

Harry's hand is on top of her head and then sliding down the back of her hair. It's exactly like he does when his dick is in her mouth. But he's usually not grinning like that.

"Tiny!" He's  so jovial when drunk. "This seat taken?"

There is no seat. It's the end of the booth, there is a small amount of brown leather, and Harry wedges himself onto it and picks up her legs, uncrosses them and lays them over his own to make space. He's solved his own problem and worsened hers.

She quirks a brow at him and he just kisses it like it's totally normal she's basically on his lap among all their colleagues. Only in this group he's made close as family would this not look risqué. Only with him. She's thinks only Sarah and Mitch know about them. Know that the 'know' each other. And they aren't on this shoot.

Nobody is looking at them funny, so she had better stop staring at him.

She tears her eyes away, like the wrapper of a condom, and goes back to translating.

It's useless when he starts running his nails along her thighs. She puts her hand on his to stop him, but he just grips her thigh instead.

It is not a step in the right direction. It's only leads one direction for her thoughts. To the way his huge hands look on her tiny body. The way his palm can cover her whole stomach and his fingers reach her honey pot still. She has photographic evidence. Between that thought and the wine, she needs to leave.

"Where are you going?" He looks very sweet, except the glint in his eye. She narrows hers at him.

"My room."

"Already?" He pouts.

"Qui."

"I can't really leave yet."

"I didn't ask you to."

He tilts his chin. "Maybe not out loud." He whispers just under her breath.

She exhales.

"Will you wait up for me?" He looks up through his lashes.

She can't even answer but her head moves up and down like a teabag into hot water in the morning.

She's boiling.

He grins. And leans up to kiss her cheek. "What room?" He murmurs. She knows he could find out if he wanted, but it would also alert the front desk, which might make it to the media, or worse, a fan with Twitter.

"24" she whispers through the veil of her hair. Pulls away from his tractor beam eyes and smiles at the table. Gives a few hugs and a big wave.

The inn is small, quaint. She's on the second floor, which is the top floor, waiting. Helene's kept her clothes on. The same outfit she has had on all day. Jeans, loose, and a t shirt, her dad trainers. Should she change? She tries to remember what Harry had on at the pub. He had changed a fair few times throughout the day.

She think he was wearing a hoodie, his name emobossed on the breast in some language or another, Gaelic?, and loose light jeans. Dirty vans adorning his feet.

She hopes she ends the night in his jumper, or wakes up and slipes it over her shoulders.

The hours slip away and her eyes have kettlebells attached to them. She's just about to take care of single girl tasks, washing her face and putting on the extra lock when the knock comes.

"I was about to go to bed without you." She leans against the door jamb. She's not purposely jutting her hip.  She's not!

"Ahh," he teases, touches the smudges below her droopy eyes and pulls her blonde hair. "You tired."

"Qui, it's been a long day." She breathes.

"What?" He laughs and pushes her into the room with his hips, "your call time was hours after mine!" He flashes his big green eyes.

"Maybe, but I don't have your stamina." She counters. Harry the athlete raises a brow at her statement.

"I've never had a problem with your endurance."

He let's that lie there, and she can tell both of their mind's are roving over memories of late nights turned into early morning mapping flesh.

"No, I suppose you are right." She goes easy when he pulls her forward and his mouth slides against her like a skeleton key into a waiting lock. She expects the kiss to escalate, but maybe they are both a little tired, exhausted from a long day, while longing for an extended night. His kiss remains deep, full of tingling tongue touches, but doesn't get faster, her back doesn't hit the wall, and there are no stops where she is pressed against or onto furniture.

He has some embedded geography of hotel rooms, because he navigates the suite like the globetrotter he is. They are both fully dressed, and the squeezes and rubs over the fabric are exciting, reminiscent of juvenile contained eagerness. When her knees hit the back of the mattress, Helene decides the adults need to take over and hikes the tucked in button down up and over his head, forgoing the buttons.

The black ink on his golden skin is a trail familiar to her fingers tips and she follows it down, down to the leaves framing his joyful path. She can feel the pressure of his erection on the slide mechanism of his trousers and against the strained teeth tethered together on his zipper. If it wasnt metal, it would unzip itself against the force. She sighs when she pulls him out. His dick makes her so proud every time. She can't imagine what it's like to carry it around.

No wonder he is so self confident, the word cocksure occurs to her and she giggles.

"Are you laughing at me?" He looks down and she's charmed, for all his assuredness, he's still vulnerable. It's why he is so endearing.

"Non," she's got him naked and guides him back to the head aboard. He looks more tired than her suddenly, he had a bigger day, job. She'll keep up the inversion of the evening, she can recall no other time together where she had clothes on while he was naked. "I was just think how much I appreciate your dick."

"And it made you laugh?" Oh he's still a little offended.

Helene will have to make it up to him. She ruts against his lap and takes stock.

He's half mast. Which is a rare state for him, in her experience. She nuzzles into his lap and laps from his base to tip. She can feel the plumping under her tongue and decides that's not quite adequate.

She can fit him all the way like this. It won't last, so she takes advantage and mentally pats herself on the back as she seems to expand her capacity as he swells. Once she can't muzzle her nose into his patch of hair anymore she pulls off with a gasp and looks up to his panting face.

"I wasn't laughing at you," she nods towards his bobbing shafts. "In my head, I thought how I'm proud of your dick, and decided it was the wrong word. But the right feeling." Helene put him back in her mouth with her tongue extended out, and stroked him from her throat to the squirming tip.

He's chuckling now and she smiles with her eyes at him. "You're proud of my dick?" His dimples are the size of salad plates.

"Qui, aren't you?" She flashes her brows while She straddles his lap. She's not sure she's satisfied her mouth hunger for him, but they have all night.

"Well...." He blushes, which makes her giggle. She's fully naked on his bare dick and he's blushing.

"Know you are." She whispers in his ear. "You have every reason to be."

"Mmmhmmm." He could be responding to her statement or her rocking over his lap. If one of them tilted just so....

"You've been cocky!" She emphasizes that by moving her hips to an almost position. "Enough before."

He looks just a touch frustrated.

"Should I show you how proud I am?" She slips the tip in, just the tip. Not quite to the popping point. It's a tantalizing suspension, just rocking while his eyelashes flutter. "Show you why you deserve to be cocky?"

"Mmmmm," he hums, vision now between their legs, mesmerized. "Please." He breathes and looks at her.

"Do we need a condom?" She's not sure how active he's been.

"Not for me." He grabs her hips and tries to push her down, as tantalizing as the pop of a champagne bottle, the moment of jubilant anticipation.

"Better safe than sorry!" she dismounts and grabs a skin. He breathes a breath like he is frustrated.

"Oh, Cherie, ne t'inquiète pas!" She teases and strokes firmly, guiding his foreskin over the sensitive tip. "We're only beginning." He helps her roll it down and lifts her thighs to press against the headboard on either side of him. She's glad it's padded. Harry's done waiting, or being gentle and shy. She can't even acknowledge the pop of their joining she loves, she's too busy catching up to the rough thrust of his pelvis up and into her own. "Merde!"

"Mmmmhmmmm." He hums and catches her lips with his own, a net to butterflies. It's soft, slow and sensual, in opposition to the bruising hold he has on her hips. He can handle her with one of his big hands. The other has found its place on her sensitive nipples. This escalated so fast she thinks the ending will follow the beginning with no middle to enjoy. She was hoping to fuck him slow.

Her hands slide down the headboard, it's coarse beneath her hands in comparison to the hair that fills her hands in the next moment. She pulls his neck back a little roughly. "Wait."

"For?" He keeps working her over his dick and it's compelling, and she loves it, but he's showing her why her makes her proud, and that wasn't tonight's lesson.

"I want to come."

"Good, that's what I want to." He hits her spot unerringly. And she's nearly convinced.

"No, non, on your tongue." She has to forcibly take herself off him. She lifts her knees and places her hands on his shoulders to hoist herself up. It's a favorable arrangement, her legs as long as his torso. "Allez." She suggests and his answer is a smile and the extension of his tongue right up her slit.

Helene has to grab the headboard to stay upright. She knew she was on the way. But how close she was to her journey is even clearer when his hands draw her ass cheeks apart and he's spreading her wetness over both holes while manipulating her clit with his tongue.

When he fits his mouth over her hood, creates suction and licks while fitting two fingers inside her separated by just inches of skin accessing both holes, she clenches without prologue. "Fuck." She rides his face until her orgasm has ridden out its welcome and he pulls his fragrant hand out to aid its twin in holding her steady until she's clutching the headboard and coming against his tongue again. Her wriggling at the over sensitivity only aiding his quest for number two.

She slides down his body slow and she's done, until she remembers her intention when his dripping shaft, wet with her and leaking a few drops for himself, prods her ass. She was gonna run this show, swing her hips like a pendulum so he'd enter a trance like state while inside her, the suspended animation of ecstasy. Helene needed to come so she would be calm enough to do it. To hypnotize him, slow and sweet.

She just needs to control the tempo, bang out a rhythmic unhurried beat on his hips.

It only takes a minor shift in alignment to throw them off their orbit. Send his mercury into retrograde with her pussy. She slides over the tip with ease, she's wet enough that she doesn't even have to work him in like normal. Though it still prickles her nerves with that familiar addictive burn she's only had with him and a few others. Those that pushed her boundaries. She's a globetrotter when she fucks Harry though. Her exhale would be loud if his groan wasn't louder.

"Fuck, Helene!" He looks down again and she decides now that she has given him dinner, he needs a show. Time to mesmerize him.She flexes her pelvis, rounding back and holds the headboard hard to find her beat. It's a slow jam, all the flavor of a samba. She's got a circle like a Ferris wheel and he's stuttering her name like he's afraid of heights but loving the ride.

"Again." Helene demands, her head against his forehead.

"What?" Harry's staring at her motion hard, distracted. Helene stops, she wants his attention, his eyes, his mouth, his dick, every inch of him focused on her, including those inside her. She rides the circle to the top, just his tip inside, and hovers. No other passengers are getting on, she just wants him to admire the view. She clenches and knows he can see it when he shivers.

Helene uses her nose to nudge his gaze up. He looks up, down, up, again. She pulls out enough to nearly unseat him and his fingers dig into her hips. "What?"  He repeats.

"My ñame." She looks him in the eye and presses her panting mouth to his while she slides all the way down, his pubic hair against her swollen clit. "Say my name."

He breathes it out, like a prayer, "Helene!" While she takes them to the top again. "Helene!" He shouts in exhalations when she slams down to his pelvis harder. "Helene!" She swings back up slow, and drops like they've found themselves on a rollercoaster.

By now her name is a chant, "Helene, Helene, helene, fuck Helene!" He's squeezing and staring and licking her lips sloppily and she can tell he doesn't know if he should stop her, try to help her along so they can get off together, or just cum.

He looks desperate to finish.

So she stops, and he looks frantic. "Baby, please!"

Helene shrugs, kisses him and grinds herself against him inside on her spot and outside on begging pleasure zone until she's almost there. She squeezes him rhythmically to keep him ready.

She's almost there. They can hop off this ride together now. So she starts the ascent to the top again, slow circles until he's panting and chanting again, and then it's a free fall ride for them both.

Helene loses her stomach and screams his name in harmony with his chorus of hers.

Their sweaty foreheads rest together, until he is chuckling.

"Quoi?" She catches her breath enough to ask.

"I was just thinking, I definitely won't need a photo to remember this one!"

She feels proud, but she knows there is an image he's forgetting, one that will remind her of this Scottish adventure forever.

Months later, they've found themselves together, like together together, when she comes across it. She posts it, with a longing thank you.

When Harry gets home from set, he's smiling like a Cheshire Cat. "You trying to tell me something?" He shoves his phone at her with the open Instagram.

Helene shrugs. She's feeling proud, even prouder than she felt a year ago.

And she wants to show him.

[kaekiro]

Practice 

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: K II Words: 1,589II [AO3] Warnings: none A/N: Happy Eremika Week! I chose to do “First Time” for this fic c: This follows Love If We Made It, and is in Mikasa’s POV this au might also get another part but I don’t have all my ideas together for it yet 

The first time he kisses her, both of them shrouded by tall trees and foliage alike, it is unexpected.

It began with the simple choice: help Eren with sparring, or start the list of chores the Captain prepared. Between the two, she much rather preferred the former and was pleasantly surprised that he asked for her help at all. Before Captain Levi could find them, they had walked past the wall of pines just east of headquarters and into a clearing that they decided to use for sparing that late morning. Practicing close combat privately was easier for him apparently, as it minimized distractions and chances of accidentally colliding into and hurting the other pairs who were practicing. She understood in turn, willing to help him any way she could and thankful to be inhaling fresh air instead of pungent cleaning products.

Both of them hadn’t been practicing for very long and she could already see just how much improvement he’s made since the last time they did this. His swings and kicks are more precise now, and carried power that came from concentration rather than frustrated impulse. He used to get so upset when he couldn’t land a single hit and it lapsed his judgment, making him sloppier. But now she’s surprised by the amount of effort on her part to predict his movements, tells him she’s proud of how far he’s come since their cadet days.

“Thanks. Maybe one day I can be as good as you,” he half-jokes, assuming his fighting stance again.

“You’re already better than most people I’ve fought. But there’s always room for improvement.”

He considers that, dropping his hands. “Where do you think I need improvement?”

At his question, she also drops her arms, looking over him thoughtfully. “Maybe speed. More so when you’re on offense. That was something I needed to work on back then. It just boils down to practice.”

“How did you do it?”

“I held weights while practicing. Attaching some to my ankles helped too. Once you do that with weights and then without them, you’ll see how much faster you get and how much lighter you’ll feel.”

He listens attentively, nodding. “I see. That might also help if I’m tossing my opponent over my shoulder, like you do. I’ve only done it a few times, but I usually almost end up straining something,” he admits, cupping the back of his neck.

“Do you want to practice that next?”

He visibly tenses as he meets her eyes. “Practice… tossing? I, uh, I don’t know.”

Concerned, she frowns. “Why do you look worried?”

“Cause I don't know how to do that properly yet.” The tip of his shoe nudges a couple of stones, flipping them. “I don’t want you landing weird and injuring something.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

She suddenly feels his gaze on her right cheek, and this time it’s her who’s gone stiff. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she states as a matter of fact, turning away intentionally. “I’ll show you step by step first, and then you can try, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, she begins to shrug off her jacket and drops it to the side, facing him again and stepping closer as a way of insistence. Despite his obvious reluctance, he mimics her actions, tossing aside his jacket and wiping the sweat collecting at his hairline. She begins showing him a basic way of tossing an opponent, one that she’s rarely used but works if the other person isn’t very skilled in combat. From there they work on timing and even more complex methods, practicing each step slowly before she was positive that he’s got them down at this pace.

“Okay, now you try it on me. Remember, you have to work fast so you don’t end up shouldering your opponent's full weight.”

He fists his hands and relaxes them, taking a breath. “I’ll try my best.”

She moves without warning, throwing lighter punches and kicks for him to block until he takes advantage of the opening she’s giving to him. With his grip tight on her wrist, she's pulled forward with more strength than she expects and, caught off guard, is tossed to the ground before she can break her fall. A cross between a grunt and a cough breaks free from her and it takes quite a bit of convincing to assure him that she’s fine, that he can try again. Though Eren gains a more confidence each round, what she didn’t consider beforehand was the toll that it would take on her. After being flipped numerous times, she began to feel dizzy and nauseous, the sensation nearing an unbearable point but she decided to hold off saying something, mainly for his sake. That was until he had her on the ground again, pausing long enough to notice that something was off.

“Are you okay, Mikasa?”

She was sweating more than usual, hair sticking to her neck and different parts of her face and is a bit dismayed that she can’t open her eyes right away. She puts her hand up to placate him.

“Yes… I just -” she drops the hand on his forearm without meaning to, sucking in air, “need a minute.”

The next few moments are spent focusing on her breathing, leveling it out to ease her nausea. It isn’t until she opens her eyes that she realizes he never moved from his place above her, and both simply stare, breaths audible yet slow and she’s unsure of what to make of the look on his face. Until then it nears hers, his fingers gently pushing the strands sticking to her mouth aside, grazing her lips in the process. At the intimate touch, she becomes lightheaded again, the pain in her stomach quickly devolving into a flutter. He looks at her lips tentatively, his own forming an indecisive grimace and she watches him, captivated by curiosity and the strange tension between them. When the hand at the corner of her mouth moves to cup the base of her head and the ends of his hair starts tickling her skin, she doesn’t doubt his intention, feels herself blushing brightly in comparison to the tinge of color on his face. But he makes a point to stop, looking at her questioningly and giving her the chance to pull away. In a clouded mix of attraction and anticipation, she squeezes his forearm in response and flicks her gaze from his eyes to his lips and back, noting how the color on his face spreads across the bridge of his nose.

“Mikasa,” he murmurs, “close your eyes.”

She does so, barely taking a second to wonder why, to remember how inexperienced and unprepared she is before his nose is flush against the apple of her cheek and he is kissing her in full. Her fingers curl around his forearm again and her eyes close tighter, Eren’s lips on hers an odd yet pleasant sensation that makes her skin hotter and nerves frenzied. He sighs the syllables of her name against her mouth, parting for the briefest of seconds to lean on the arm beside her head and kiss her better. The whys and whats are lost to her, irrelevant, because like earlier, she can feel his confidence grow as well as her own with each gentle movement of lips and hands. She’s almost embarrassed by the sounds they’re making, but his nails lightly raking over her scalp causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps, her hand traveling up and over the muscle in his arm till her palm is at the bulging tendon on the side of his neck. She couldn’t be any less aware of their surroundings, merely craving more of this kind of attention that she’s wanted for a long time. And although the way he deepens his kiss tells her that she isn’t alone in that feeling, reality had already found its way to reel them back in.

It’s him who breaks the kiss when he hears something that her ears don’t catch at first, both soon recognizing it as shouts of squad leaders and noises that could only belong to the maneuvering gear.

“Shit.”

Their eyes meet and, in a slight panic, make a mutual decision. Eren stands to his full height, sheepish as he pulls her up and she immediately goes to smooth down her hair, walking over to retrieve her jacket and hating how much her hands are shaking. Talking to him about this proves to be daunting on her end, especially with how abrupt and somewhat awkward it had ended. Everything is burning - her lips, her face, her stomach and perhaps it’s best to talk about it when she isn’t as raw or embarrassed, but then he speaks up.

“Hey, um, thanks. For helping me today.”

Tucking a tangled lock of hair behind her ear, she gives him the most genuine smile she can manage at the moment. “Of course.”

After a stretch of silence, she thinks it okay to start walking back and he jogs to catch up and match her pace. Halfway back to headquarters, she senses his eyes on her and finds them shamelessly trained on her mouth when she faces him. A flicker of desire threatens to ignite a flame that’s destined to consume her, and she struggles to keep her voice neutral and cool when she asks, “What is it?”

“Your lips,” he starts, reaching over to swipe a rough thumb over her bottom one. “They’re so soft.”

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

The Beach Boys’ SUNFLOWER.

No anniversary or anything, just some continued discussion on one of The Beach Boys’ greatest studio albums. Often agreed to be, technically, the best of the post-PET SOUNDS Beach Boys long-players, SUNFLOWER is a record abundant in rich production, ace songwriting, and the quirky charm that only the Brothers’ Wilson and accomplices could bring...

SUNFLOWER sounds like a lot of work went into it, each song is produced so sumptuously, with arrangements and enough layers to put layer cake to shame. A record mostly free of the cynicism and aura of 1970, standing the test of time and sounding fresh long after its initial bow. That said, it did arrive with some little flaws, which was a byproduct of The Beach Boys machine post-WILD HONEY.

Recently, I came across album engineer Stephen Desper’s study videos on The Beach Boys, SUNFLOWER, and the various songs that didn’t make the cut. SUNFLOWER was mainly recorded from fall 1969 to the weeks before its August release date, but a handful of recordings on here actually date back to the first quarter of 1969, when The Beach Boys were about to enter a legal scuffle with their former record label, Capitol Records. Over time, some songs from these sessions were ported over to the finished album to enhance it.

It is well-known that in February 1970, The Beach Boys already had something of a finished album on hand, despite signing with Warner Bros./Reprise Records in mid-November of the previous year. An acetate was sent to WB executives and their top dog, Mo Ostin. Ostin believed in The Beach Boys and knew they were more than what the public had perceived them to be. After a chain of mishaps during the Summer of Love (1967, for anyone who may not know), The Beach Boys lost all of their popularity and respect on American soil. Americans, from buyers to critics, mostly turned their backs on Brian, Dennis, Carl, Mike, Al, and Bruce...

Despite great quality singles and albums, just about everything released from fall 1967 to the end of 1970 was a sales flop, even SUNFLOWER, which flopped the hardest of any album of theirs to date. Europe was far more enthusiastic and loving of the new-phase Beach Boys. SUNFLOWER fared far better in Europe, as did just about all their singles, and their albums SMILEY SMILE, WILD HONEY, FRIENDS, and 20/20.

Ostin knew these guys weren’t the “outdated surfing Doris Days” that the American public thought they were. Ostin was not pleased with the first acetate that was submitted, saying it lacked a potential hit single and that the men could do much better than that...

The first acetate, which Desper provided via his videos, actually wasn’t too bad. You can recreate it yourself with existing SUNFLOWER tracks and bootlegs of the others, as they would be remixed or revised for future albums... We’ll be looking at those.

SUNFLOWER’s February 1970 configuration had the following track listing.

SIDE ONE - ‘Susie Cincinnati,’ ‘Good Time,’ ‘Our Sweet Love,’ ‘Tears in the Morning,’ ‘When Girls Get Together,’ and ‘Slip On Through.’

SIDE TWO - ‘Add Some Music to Your Day,’ ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet,’ ‘This Whole World,’ ‘I Just Got My Pay,’ ‘At My Window,’ and ‘Lady’

There are plenty of great songs here, and some weaker ones. You can see why Mo would reject this one... What with songs like ‘When Girls Get Together’ present, and some less-than-PET SOUNDS ditties like ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet’ and ‘Got My Pay’...

‘Good Time’ would later be released in 1977 on the album LOVE YOU. On that album, the original recording is reworked. Its vocals are radically different, and the ending note is cut short by a fade-out. Additional vocals were added to certain sections. The original 1970 version sounds much closer to version done by Brian’s wife Marilyn Wilson and sister-in-law Diane Rovell, which uses the Beach Boys recording and backing vocals, with the ladies’ vocals on top. The duo would be known as American Spring, and would get an album out in 1972.

‘Tears in the Morning’ ended up making it to the finished SUNFLOWER, but it was produced a lot differently. ‘Tears in the Morning’ was always criticized for being a corny, lounge-lizard song... I never really got that out of the released version, the production sweetened it up and made it sound more like a traditional pop song. The original mix prepared for the February 1970 acetate is a country kilometer away... Not only is the actual Vegas/lounge aesthetic all over it, but the “teeeeeears” crooning is thankfully drowned out by brass! This is the version that should’ve been released, not what we ended up getting... But who am I to say? The Dutch sent the song - released as a single in various European territories - to the Top 10.

‘When Girls Get Together’ was later released on 1980′s KEEPIN’ THE SUMMER ALIVE, the point - in my opinion - where The Beach Boys as an entity officially checked out. I always felt this song was undone by its awful (and likely sexist) lyrics, but I became fascinated by its sound... It’s driven by a marxophone and brass, giving it a strange, stereotypically Italian-like sound. I had located an instrumental backing track for the song a year ago, which was laid down in March 1969. So much effort went into this track, why were the lyrics so insipid?

In 1976, ‘When Girls Get Together’ was dusted off and was being considered for a new album release. It is assumed that around this time, it received the mix that we hear on KEEPIN’ THE SUMMER ALIVE. The mix on KEEPIN’ completely buries what’s so neat about this song, adding a thumping drum track that drowns out all the little nuances... When hearing the instrumental backing track for the first time, I was so impressed - and puzzled. Finally, I was able to hear the original 1970 via this acetate... The lyrics still suck, but the vocals nicely match the song’s structure, so it’s a pleasant listen in this form. Why couldn’t they have simply released this version on KEEPIN’? The modifications here ruin it, which I think is something that plagues a couple other leftovers from this era.

‘Take a Load Off Your Feet’ was ported over to SUNFLOWER’s follow-up, SURF’S UP, in 1971. Al Jardine’s jokey ditty about foot care and the health craze of the era received some modifications in ‘71. An echoey effect is added to the end of the first two choruses. Not a bad addition, but was it necessary? Now, for some reason, an unrelated recording is attached to the song. Perhaps taking cues from The Beatles, who hid ‘Can You Take Me Back?’ on the final side of the self-titled album, the band attached a merry-go-round snippet called ‘Carnival.’ Beautifully recreating the experience of being on a carousel (perhaps a little too much, if were to believe the account of a WB executive concerned about the recording possibly making people feel dizzy!), it ultimately didn’t make it to the album and remains unreleased. Shame.

‘Lady’ is the closing track of this acetate, a very minimalist Dennis Wilson ballad that was essentially the prelude to his soulful, mellow work. ‘Lady’ was, for some reason, released as a solo single B-side in late 1970 in Europe only. (The A-side was another SUNFLOWER leftover, ‘Sound of Free.’) It’s credited to Dennis Wilson and Daryl Dragon (later Captain of Captain and Tennille), who goes under the pseudonym Rumbo. In the vault for years and years because of a legal issue, it low-key saw release on a Super Furry Animals collection of songs that inspired them. The Beach Boys enterprise officially released the song in 2009, a mix apparently finalized in 2005 utilizing vocals and overdubs the band added to the recording in presumably the mid-to-late 1970s.

While I did like the song a great deal, it was the original 1970 production that pleasantly surprised me. I feel the remixed version makes something a little too produced out of what’s supposed to be a more raw recording. That version of the song would’ve fit in nicely on SURF’S UP, had it not been released as the B-side of a solo single. Think of it as a sort of ‘Long and Winding Road’ situation, where it started out as something simple and to-the-point, but got a little lost in overproduction. Fun fact, the song also carried the title ‘Fallin’ in Love.’

Ostin firmly rejects the acetate. The band goes back to the drawing board and whips up several new recordings. The next acetate is compiled in June 1970, a disc that negates nearly half of the previous disc! Strangely enough, the band lightly dips their finger into the early 1969 bowl of recordings, and selects two tracks for inclusion.

SIDE ONE - ‘Loop De Loop,’ ‘Susie Cincinnati,’ ‘San Miguel,’ ‘H.E.L.P. is on the Way,’ ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet’/’Carnival,’ ‘I Just Got My Pay’

SIDE TWO - ‘Good Time,’ ‘Big Sur,’ ‘Lady,’ ‘When Girls Get Together,’ ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow,’ and ‘’Til I Die.’

‘Loop De Loop’ was Al Jardine’s redo of a Brian song from mid-1968 called ‘Sail Plane Song,’ turning an ominous psychedelic piece into a vaudevillian carnival romp about barnstorming. ‘Loop De Loop’ wouldn’t see a release in any form until 1998, when it was included on the soundtrack to the VH1 documentary ENDLESS HARMONY. Vocals were changed up here and there, more carnival effects and a barker voice were added to strengthen the atmosphere. The modifications work, Al was happy with the completed product... But this original mix from 1969 works as well. Why they chose this out of the 1969 recordings is beyond me, though. Why they included this, and kept the jokey ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet,’ ‘H.E.L.P. is on the Way,’ ‘and ‘I Just Got My Pay.’

The acetate is a weird mix of the silly, the serene, and the devastating. (’’Til I Die,’ anyone?) Were they that upset by Ostin’s rejection? Why are the wonderful ‘Our Sweet Love,’ ‘This Whole World,’ and ‘Slip On Through’ absent? Most of the late 1969 stuff isn’t here at all.

Another early 1969 recording is here, and fits well, Dennis’ rousing ‘San Miguel.’ Unfortunately not released until 1981, this song should’ve definitely made it to the final line-up!

The disc also houses the fan favorite ‘Big Sur,’ the original, quiet, mesmerizing version of what would later become a waltz that appeared on 1973′s HOLLAND. Also on here is Brian’s dopey but oh-so-sincere health foods paean, ‘H.E.L.P. is on the Way.’

Side two ends with two songs that later ended up on SURF’S UP, and both were modified for that album. ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow’ was given an echo effect much like ‘Take a Load Off,’ and I feel it takes away from the warm, folksy feel of the original. I know that ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow’ is viewed as a misfire, especially amongst the SURF’S UP tracks, but I always had a soft spot for it. This more stripped down-sounding version, without the gimmicky echoing, only made me appreciate it more. ‘’Til I Die’ doesn’t have its verses, but sounds pretty much the same here.

I think both acetates capture a certain mood. The Feb 1970 one displays the enthusiasm they had once they were freeing themselves from Capitol, finding a new label, and looking at a possibly bright future. This can be heard in songs like ‘This Whole World’ and ‘Slip On Through.’ At the same time, there’s a jovial, humorous tone throughout, which doesn’t always spell hit potential. Ostin was right to reject it.

Acetate Two sounds a little moodier by contrast, despite porting over most of the fun tracks from the previous disc. An aura emphasized on SURF’S UP. ‘’Til I Die’ perhaps is the reason why, but you also have the mellowness of ‘Big Sur’ and ‘Lady,’ none of the booming productions on Acetate One or the finished product. There’s a real “try, try again” mood here. The inclusion of two older recordings is also kind of telling... As if they gave the first disc their all, got rejected, and couldn’t fill in the gaps.

SUNFLOWER ultimately had to be saved by using different puzzle pieces. Four recordings from early 1969 ended up being taken off of the shelf, and when you hear some of them... You wonder... Why did they sit on it for so long? (Possible legal issues, but that’s a whole other story, let me tell you...) Anyways, the recordings weren’t ‘San Miguel’ or ‘Loop De Loop.’ Instead... Tongue-in-cheek rocker ‘Got To Know the Woman,’ Bruce Johnston’s syrupy-sweet but charming ‘Deirdre,’ Brian and Mike’s ethereal ‘All I Wanna Do,’ and Dennis’ powerful ‘Forever’... Perhaps one of the greatest love songs ever conceived?

None of the new material from Acetate Two made it to the final cut. No ‘Big Sur,’ no ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow,’ no ‘H.E.L.P.,’ and certainly NO ‘’Til I Die.’ Several songs from Acetate One made it: ‘Slip On Through,’ ‘This Whole World,’ ‘Add Some Music to Your Day,’ ‘Tears in the Morning,’ ‘Our Sweet Love,’ and ‘At My Window.’

For the rest... Dennis conceived a fierce rocker called ‘It’s About Time.’ They went into the archives for the closing track. WB executive Lenny Waronker was moved by a short piece called ‘Cool, Cool Water,’ which had been recorded in late 1967 during the WILD HONEY sessions. ‘Cool, Cool Water’ was a reimagining of the “water” composition of the aborted SMiLE project, and ran about a minute or so. Combining the WILD HONEY-era recording, the SMiLE water chant, and a whole new song... It became a 5-minute ‘Cool, Cool Water.’ The incredible ending to a near-perfect album.

Very rarely have The Beach Boys ever sequenced an album like this afterwards. Though beloved by fans and critics, and certainly a fairly popular album upon its release in August 1971, SURF’S UP is too short and undone by the lack of Dennis Wilson songs, out-of-place ditties and some downright embarrassing tracks, and the rather forced “hip” factor of it. HOLLAND is perhaps unbalanced by the California Saga, and some of its longer tracks. The gleefully weirdo LOVE YOU might be a candidate, though I feel it gets a little flimsy towards the end of side two.

The original mixes of some of the leftovers make me wonder why such layers were added to begin with. As if there was no sort of confidence in those original recordings, as if they felt the need to punch them up. Why that awful drum track on ‘When Girls Get Together’? Why the echoing on ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow’? Why the sweetening done to ‘Tears in the Morning’? Why the added strings and vocals on ‘Lady’?

You could almost construct a double-album out of all the sessions that spanned a year and a half. The Beach Boys, collectively, made the truly wise decision to pick the best of the best from all the sources to make this their best post-PET SOUNDS album. While I personally think it has a few holes, it truly is a triumph, and it’s too bad that the same lightning couldn’t be harnessed for future records, and it’s too bad that history played out the way it did with this band. Can you imagine a SURF’S UP composed of the best songs from the finished album, some great SUNFLOWER leftovers, and all those Dennis songs? Can you imagine a longer, more focused CARL AND THE PASSIONS? A less murky HOLLAND? 15 BIG ONES without the covers and more originals?

So much to dive into...