#CORAL TREES ARE SATAN TREES

[thenightfolknetwork]

I am an antichrist.

The Real thing, born to a seventh virgin daughter after her soul was consumed by my father, Satan, in a ritual of fire, glory and light.

I was raised as instructed by The Book— Don't ask which Book, you don't want to know, the knowledge would melt your eardrums— to be the destroyer of the world, the prince of sins and the devourer of souls. I am the One Who Will Bring Fire to the earth, I am the One who will run the blood of innocents through the streets and boil the sea with my mere desire, I am the dark side of the moon, I am humanity's nightmare, I am—

I am 12 years old.

And I'm at school.

I just learned about ecosystems: The delicate balance of a food chain, the harmony that exists in the earth when a network of fungi extracts nitrogen from the earth and a rotting tree leaves the soil rich for next spring.

I found out about corals recently too. They are alive and an extremely complex life form for something that will never move, corals don't die as long as nothing kills them, isn't that a strange and wonderful concept?

I always wanted to be the World Destroyer.

It never occurred to me that bringing hell to earth would mean no deer or bees or coyotes.

If you increase the average sea temperature by more than two degrees, millions of corals will die. I don't know if I want to boil the sea if that's the end result.

But I am the Antichrist and I like being the Antichrist. I like to be Apotheosis, the crack in the glass, the rotten apple, the mercury in the water.

But I also like the world as it is, even if it doesn't bow down to me in fear.

What do I do?

(What do I say to my father?)

This is the problem with prophecies – they always put the subject under such a tremendous amount of pressure! I feel sure that, if your father had simply not mentioned his plans for your future, you would have grown up without these anxieties and likely gone on to fulfil your unholy purpose without a second thought, in a time frame that felt sensible and natural to you.

Instead, you've been burdened with a terrible and unreasonable amount of responsibility. No wonder you're feeling torn! This is more than any twelve year old should have to consider.

The important thing to remember is that you don't have to make a decision about this right away. You are the Antichrist and you will remain the Antichrist while you take a little while to decide the best course of action for you. The end of the world will still be there when you're ready for it.

As to the apocalypse itself, this is the other reason prophecies can be so frustrating. They are simply never specific enough to be helpful. Yes, you may be destined to end the world – but which world, exactly? And how much of that 'blood of innocents, boiling seas' stuff is literal, and how much is just a religious scribe getting carried away with himself?

In my experience, there are many, many ways a person might fulfil a prophecy without having to bring a fiery demise to this particular realm of existence. You might take a short hop over to another reality and destroy an uninhabited world, for example.

Alternatively, you might take your prophecy in a more metaphorical sense. “The world” we live in today is one that allows billionaires and business magnates destroy our environment in the name of profit. Perhaps you could fulfil your great purpose by destroying the social and political structures that make that world possible.

I understand your trepidation about bringing this up with your father. However, I really do think that you should consider it. Looking after you is his job, after all, and I'm sure he wouldn't want you struggling with these feelings alone. Reach out to him, and let him know how you feel.

You don’t have to decide this all at once. Whatever else you say to your father, you need to make it clear that you will not be embarking on any sort of apotheosis until you've at least finished your GCSEs. You are a child, and you deserve to have a proper childhood, whatever the future might hold for you.

[spunknbite]

South Downs, revisited

The garden faces south.

Wisteria and lavender. Borders of delphinium. Brilliant violet asters, peonies and shock-white hydrangeas. Hostas that could use splitting come spring. Hollyhocks thriving, standing ten feet easy. Lady’s Mantle, climbing roses, snap dragons. Yarrow, a lot of yarrow.

Grow you a garden. Start from seed, from the beginning, the inception. Dirt under fingernails, cracked terracotta pots, noon sun high. Watch stalks rise and flowers bloom, creation, something new and whole and yours.

There’s lattice-work arches too. A little neglected, water-warped wood imprinted with decades of climbing tendrils tattooing the grain. The clematis has fallen back, overstretched and thinning at the apex, but still the stains of its vines remain on the wood, revealing past summers. The patio stones that dot the perimeter are smoothed almost slippery from years of use and rain. Initials are carved in the trunk of the overgrown birch that shadows the back gate. SM + RB dug deep in testament, a fine layer of moss creeping at the edges.

Loved, this garden was loved by its former caretakers. Could be loved again, certainly.

There’s room enough to spread out. Add some colour — daylilies, cosmos, bellflowers. Coax some ivy up the brick. Mint as ground cover, along with flowering thyme, lily of the valley, phlox. 

He could build an awning off the back wall, offer some more cover. Move the hostas – they’d be happier under the protection. Plant some astilbes, coral bells, some begonias in the summer. Add a few lounges, a place for an angel to read while it storms. 

Maybe an apple tree, if he’s feeling bold.

-----

“I quite miss the country,” Aziraphale says one afternoon. A sip of tea, the familiar clink of cup on saucer. “It’s been centuries.”

“Tadfield?”

“Centuries since I’ve holidayed properly. The occasional day trip hardly counts.”

“You can’t leave this shop.”

“Not permanently, maybe just to get some air. See the sky again.” Saucer meets desk. A smile his way, blue eyes alight,

“And I will make thee beds of Roses  And a thousand fragrant posies,  A cap of flowers, and a kirtle  Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle”

“For Satan’s sake, you’re invoking Marlowe of all people?”

“And why shouldn’t I? Just because he’s been a smidge overshadowed by —”

“You know he was an atheist, angel?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“And that broken clock can write poetry too?”

“Quite.”

The bell above the shop door rings, and Aziraphale is off. 

-----

The third bedroom is just a nook really; it peaks out of a dormer window overlooking the back garden. It has built-in shelves along one wall, inset and bordered with the sort of colonial crown moulding that Crowley imagines only Aziraphale would truly appreciate. Grandmotherly; shelves seemingly meant to house sun-faded doilies and ceramic cats.

But it could be a library. Granted, a small one, but there was space enough for a collection of the essentials with room to spare under the window for a desk. An angel must keep up with his correspondence, after all. 

Dear angel, he’d written once, centuries ago. Then scribbled it out.

Dear angel, he’d written again, not long after. Then burned it.

Dear angel, he’d written again and again and again. Wasted paper made pulp made paper again, never sent.

-----

He buys the damned cottage. 

Dumb idea. Impulsive, really. Like a lot of what he did, what he still does — gets a notion in his demonic skull and just charges on, unencumbered by reflection. As if he trusts some higher power is looking out for him, has his back – the absurdity of it. Once upon a time before the beginning of the world, he’d sauntered vaguely downward without really considering all the consequences, the ramifications of it all; hadn’t weighed and measured, worked out the celestial maths. No, he made a choice and paid for it without knowing the price.

(he would have kept sauntering on anyway, knowing where it would ultimately lead — earth and humans and their wonderful cars and Aziraphale and and and — but he hadn’t known then, couldn’t have known, just what shape his damnation would take, and that was rather the point; he was a careless idiot)

Here too, on earth. We can run away together — Alpha Centauri. Get an idea, a cocked up, stupid thought and go all in on it. 

The Bentley, raging down London streets. A sharp, nearly blind corner. Is there oncoming traffic? Could he stop if he wanted to? Who’s even in control, has he ever been? Has he gone from one master to another to another?

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

So he buys the damned cottage, because what else can he do?

-----

Aziraphale gets in the elevator and Crowley gets in the Bentley. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but it’s not South Downs.

Also on ao3 for anyone interested.

[drfirsnogayny]

Funguary 2024 Day 9

👹 Week 2: Demonic 🌳 Chondrostereum purpureum aka Silver Leaf Fungus

This time, the humanization is not of a mushroom, but of a tree. By the way, it's a cool sleeve. Oops, it's not a sleeve...

Other arts:

🧢 Mycena Subcyanocephala

🪸 Lilac Coral Fungus

🦃 Turkey Tail

☁️ Cystolepiota

🏮 Filoboletus Manipularis

🪽 Angel Wings

🧽 Penicillin

👹 Satan's Bolete

🌳 Silver Leaf Fungus 🍄

🗡️ Destroying Angel

🪺 Birds Nest Fungus

🧟 Dead Man's Fingers

👒 Lilac Bonnet

🩸 Bleeding Tooth

🪮 Black Velvet

🍜 Enoki

🍘 Dotted Stem Bolete

🌧️ Inky Cap

☕ Black Trumpet

🧤 Amethyst Deceiver

🍚 Puffball

Organizer: @/feefal

[silver-ace-of-spades]

The Ghost-Type is the edgy type. Not the Dark-Type.

An analysis by Ace Trainer Spade, the resident Ghost-Type Trainer.

Dark-Types are seen as evil, but Ghost-Types are related to death, which gets censored out of the anime.

The Dark-Types may have a hellhound, a destructive hydra, a nightmare demon, and a bird that kills everything, but Ghost-Types have Satan, a monkey whose rage reanimated it after it died, a fiery knight who harbors resentment towards the living and turns it into life-stealing blades, vengeful coral that died from a climate catastrophe, a sandcastle that sucks the life out of creatures and has bones hidden underneath, the spirit of a woman who froze to death, an undead fox whose energy lacerates its own body, a haunted doll filled with vengeance, and a tree stump with the spirit of a dead kid.

Look at some of their moves.

Curse: When used by a Ghost-Type, the user cuts their HP by 50% of their max to inflict damage on the target, even after the user has fainted. Unlike other Ghost-Type moves, your Normal-Types aren't safe from it. Combining it with Fire Spin on Chandelure means they can't escape their inevitable demise.

Bitter Blade: While this is a Fire-Type move, I'm counting it because Ceruledge, the only one who can use it naturally, is a Ghost-Type. Bitter Blade is a life-steal move said to be fueled by the user's malice towards the living.

Let's say, for the sake of the argument, that Ceruledge didn't exist, since they are edgy incarnate. We still have Hisuian Zoroark, Giratina, Cofagrigus, Banette, Palossand, Cursola, Aegislash, and Gengar.

[spinchboli]

I love you Gharial I love you dwarf caiman I love you dragon snake I love you sidewinder I love you blacktail rattlesnake I love you Jacksons tree snake I love you spider tailed horned viper I love you eastern diamondback rattlesnake I love you green tree python I love you emerald tree boa I love you rhino rat snake I love you gaboon viper I love you rhino viper I love you false gharial I love you satanic leaf tailed gecko I love you mossy leafed tailed gecko I love you yellow bellied sea snake I love you leaf nosed snake I love you eyelash viper I love you saltwater crocodile I love you American alligator I love you coral snake I love you milk snake I love you Mexican black king snake I love you sunbeam snake I love you smooth green snake I love you tentacled snake I love you copperhead I love you cottonmouths I love you komodo dragons I love you tiger keelback snake I love you black mamba I love you green mamba I love you Burmese python I love you green anaconda I love you reticulated python I love you cuban crocodile I love alligator snapping turtles I love you leatherback sea turtles I love you marine iguana I love you reptiles all very very much

[ochoislas]

¡OH ISLA CARIBE!

Repica la tarántula al pie de la azucena, frente a los pies del muerto, en la arena blanca junto a la playa coralina; cangrejillos rúbeos escapan en puntales, que tu nombre invierten. . .

Arriba la lírica perlesía de eucaliptos, embebiendo raudal de plata de algo intransitado. . . Supón que cuento estos esmaltados, netos marcos de muerte, los brutales collares de conchas en torno a cada tumba, cuidadosamente dispuestos. Es referible esta lástima. . .

Y en la blanca arena doy con un nombre, si bien en otra lengua. Nombre de árbol, nombre de flor adrede desmienten la muerte ignota. . .   El viento, barriendo encanijadas palmas, es casi blando también.

¿Mas quién es el Capitán de esta isla doblón sin torniquete? ¿Solamente cangrejos reclamo que apestan las ingles calientes del matorral? ¿Quién el gobernador del moho que invade los sentidos? Su matemática caribe empaña las claras lentes nuevas.

Bajo el flamboyán, de un mediodía o siesta las conflagradas flores cuajen la luz, entregue mi alma, cernida en alto, blanca y negra al filo del aire. . . hasta unirse al farsante huésped del azul.

No se vea el peregrino de vuelta ligado como doce tortugas en el muelle cada lubricán. . . aún sin morir, con costras de sal en los ojos. . . ¡Enormes, trastocadas! ¡Tal trueno en su vena! ¡Los picos crispados tosiendo tras la mareta!

Cagafierro del ciclón. . . yo, arrojado a su curso, fraguo aquí con las tardes, satén y vacío. . . Me has dado la concha, Satán. . . el carbol, el ascua del sol estallado en el mar.

*

O CARIB ISLE!

The tarantula rattling at the lily's foot, Across the feet of the dead, laid in white sand Near the coral beach; the small and ruddy crabs Stilting out of sight, that reverse your name —

And above, the lyric palsy of eucalypti, seeping A silver swash of something unvisited. . . . Suppose I count these clean enamel frames of death, Brutal necklaces of shells around each grave Laid out so carefully. This pity can be told . . .

And in the white sand I can find a name, albeit In another tongue. Tree-name, flower-name deliberate, Gainsay the unknown death. . . . The wind, Sweeping the scrub palms, also is almost kind.

But who is a Captain of this doubloon isle Without a turnstile? Nought but catchword crabs Plaguing the hot groins of the underbrush? Who The commissioner of mildew throughout the senses? His Carib mathematics dull the bright new lenses.

Under the poinciana, of a noon or afternoon Let fiery blossoms clot the light, render my ghost, Sieved upward, black and white along the air — Until it joins the blue's comedian host.

Let not the pilgrim see himself again Bound like the dozen turtles on the wharf Each twilight — still undead, and brine caked in their eyes, — Huge, overturned: such thunder in their strain! And clenched beaks coughing for the surge again!

Slagged of the hurricane — I, cast within its flow, Congeal by afternoons here, satin and vacant . . . You have given me the shell, Satan — the ember, Carbolic, of the sun exploded in the sea.

Hart Crane

di-versión©ochoislas

[sinnamonrolle]

[ the little moments] ♡ Leviathan

4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.

✿ part of a series now! ✿

❀  gender neutral reader  ❀

“What are you making?” you asked, peeking over Levi’s arms.

“GAH!” Levi yelped. “BEGONE, DEMONS!—oh. It’s just you. Why did you sneak up on me??? It’s not fair for my poor heart, okay.”

Levi set down the spatula into the bowl and patted his chest a few times, clearly spooked by your unannounced arrival. You felt bad for scaring him, but his reaction was utterly adorable. There was a faint blush across his cheeks, and all you wanted to do was see it again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, giving his head a few pats for good measure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blush deepened at the contact between you two, but Levi didn’t push you away. He only turned his head and grumbled with a small pout, “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

You looked at the dough in the bowl, the cup of beaten eggs on the counter, and the bottles of whip cream neatly lined up to the side. “So, what are you making? Do you need any help?” you asked.

He perked up instantly, and all lingering signs from the scare vanished. As he whipped out his D.D.D. from his pocket, he began explaining to you.

“So, you see,” Levi began, his fingers moving furiously against the screen, “in the anime ‘The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl’, in one episode, Ruri-chan visited one of her human friends and they made cream puffs together, and as I was rewatching that episode, seeing Ruri-chan enjoying her cream puffs that she made with her own two hands also made me want to make my own cream puffs, because if I make it myself, then it’ll be like eating it with Ruri-chan, you know, but I’ve never made cream puffs before so I’m following a recipe and yeah. That’s where I am right now—Did you get all that? You look a little dazed.”

When Levi talked about something he’s passionate about, the purple in his eyes rose and fell in accordance to his emotions. It’s something that took you a while to notice, but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. For example, when Levi was sad, the purple swallowed most of the orange, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And when Levi was angry, and you meant really angry, only a tiny amount of purple circled his pupil. The bright orange consumed all other colors, and it almost seemed to glow. But when Levi was happy, that’s when his eyes were the warmest orange. The purple was mild, nestled underneath hues of oranges—you thought it was a beautiful combination of colors.

Like currently. You were utterly entranced by the way the orange seeped into the paler orange, pushing down the purple until all you could see was the sunset in his eyes. Too entranced that you appeared dazed to Levi, but not to the point that you didn’t listen to what he was saying.

When you refocused again, Levi turned away to the ingredients on the countertop, hands reaching for his headphones only to meet the collar of his cardigan. It seemed to be a habit of his. When he was nervous or feeling out of place, he often reached for his headphones to feel safe, to feel protected against the world. But he didn’t have them today, probably because he planned on baking and didn’t want them to get dirty or to get in the way.

“Of course,” Levi mumbled, tugging his cardigan closer to his body, “I shouldn’t expect a normie like you to understand, why did I even bother? There’s no way you would care about something stupid—”

“I was listening,” you said firmly. “By making cream puffs, you will feel like you’re eating them with Ruri-chan, right? It’s not stupid at all, Levi. I think the idea is adorable. Can we make them together?”

Levi spluttered and turned further away from you, red ears peeking out of his hair.

“That-that’s not fair! Acting so cute, especially with that head tilt! It’s like you’re trying to KO me!” Levi complained, but he finally turned to look at you. However, his eyes were constantly moving between the bowl of batter and your face. “Although… if it’s on purpose, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily mind… BUT that’s not the problem here! Are you sick or something? Why did you look so out of it? Like, like something came and ate your soul! You can’t let anyone eat your soul, okay?!”

There was no need for shame in this house, so you confessed with a straight face. Besides, there wasn’t any reason to hide it from Levi, whose concern for your soul had his hands on your shoulders, all of his inhibitions regarding intimacy out the window.

“I got distracted by your eyes,” you said honestly. “When you’re really happy, your eyes are this really pretty shade of orange. It reminds me of sunsets and autumn trees that we have in the human world.”

It took Levi a minute or two to process what you just said, but when it registered, he froze up. His hands clamped down harder on your shoulders, fingers squeezing you as he choked out, “A-ah… I, I see…”

His eyes bore holes into your clothes, not daring to meet yours, as red bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. It was just tempting you to touch it, to feel the warm soft skin with your fingertips, to encourage the blush with pinching and kneading, but just as you started to move for his cheeks, Levi removed himself from you and showed you a picture of cream puffs, drawn in a familiar anime style.

“Th-this, AHEM, this is what Ruri-chan made,” Levi said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks as he explained. “She cuts it completely in half and then they put the cream inside.“ Then, he swiped to another picture. “This is the recipe I found. I’ve already cooked the dough on the stove, so all I have left is to mix the perfect amount of eggs into the dough.”

You lowered the hand that was reaching for Levi’s face and smiled at him. Even though you really wanted to touch his cheeks, you were still satisfied from the way Levi was enjoying himself with baking. It was rare to see Levi so unbridled and unabashed with his happiness in a public space, although perhaps the House of Lamentation wouldn’t count as public.

Something this rare... you didn’t dare disrupt.

“Then, let’s mix the eggs together,” you offered, turning to grab the measuring cup of beaten eggs. “Is this the amount that we need?”

Levi picked up the spatula he had set down earlier and replied, “There’s four eggs in there, but the recipe said that it’s really finicky. We just have to make the dough a good consistency. Let’s see… we need it shiny, thick, and smooth.”

The mixing went well. Levi was extremely strict with making sure the dough came out well, and while you did some baking before here and there, you definitely weren’t an expert on the amount of eggs that needed to be in cream puff dough. You were glad Levi knew enough for the cream puffs to come out looking absolutely delicious, because you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Levi breaking down into tears.

“Be careful when you’re cutting it in half,” Levi said nervously, watching closely as you sliced a cream puff. “Don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll freak out if you do. I don’t know how to reattach fingers, so I’ll probably have to go get Satan but wouldn’t it be too late by then? How long does it take before human fingers aren't able to reattach? Ah, but we have magic so—”

“Levi,” you said, patting his arm in a consoling manner, “I understand your concerns, but I’ll be fine. I promise to be extra careful, but you shouldn’t hold the whipped cream can—”

Pop.

“—too tightly…” you finished, but it was already too late.

The bottle of whipped cream, branded with a logo of Little Devil, exploded from the top. Some of the cream decorated the kitchen countertop in white spots and some fell on your hand, but most of it landed on Levi. You could barely see his face through the thick layer of white.

“...”

“Pfffftttt—cough, cough!” you started laughing, only to immediately cover it with coughs. It didn’t sound believable at all, but you continued on, setting the knife to the side. “Levi, are you okay?”

Before he could respond, much of the cream fell from his face in a huge glob, leaving behind a white coating with varying thickness and two spots where his eyes were. You choked back the laughter as best as you could, but it was hard to stop your lips from twitching. It wasn’t helping that he looked somewhat like a clown.

“Are, are you okay, Levi?” you asked again, biting down on your lips to stop it from forming into a smile. “That’s a lot of whipped cream…”

Levi opened his mouth, but you couldn’t see his lips at all, only a dark, gaping hole that opened and closed.

“Unbelievable…” he said, and you would have helped him clean the cream off his face if you didn’t absolutely lose it then and there, doubling over as you wheezed, slapping a hand against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, “but, oh my goodness, Levi, you—AHAHAHA, you look like a clown! A clown! Levi, I’m so sorry but—”

When you took another look at Levi, he was looking at you in equal parts disappointment and embarrassment as he wiped off most of the white cream with a hand, washing it under the faucet.

Even though most of the whipped cream was gone, the look he sent you almost launched you into another wheezing fit, but you steadied yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” Levi grumbled, but this time you could see the pout on his lips and the absolutely adorable way his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, with a bit of guilt, and reached for the remaining cream hanging onto his bangs. “Here, let me get that—”

Levi caught your hand.

“You complete idiot,” he complained as he brought your hand to his lips. “Cruel and heartless, I can’t believe you’re my master… Normally, I wouldn’t forgive you for a hundred years but… ” He trailed off, and his eyes, the color of coral, met yours for a brief second before his eyes eluded yours, and his tongue peeked out and licked the whipped cream that had landed on the back of your hand.

Your eyes followed the retracting tongue and the way it swiped gently against his pink lips as it passed through. Dazed, you only processed what had happened when the kitchen air blew against the wet patch on your hand, the cold sensation and the realization warming up your face.

Now, you were the one blushing.

Levi finished with a whisper, “You’re lucky I love you.”

-------

Masterlist!

[roseytoesy]

I like to image the brother have gotten their horns caught, like they were fighting and fall/got pushed back and hit the wall and there horns got stuck and there just pissed struggling to get free or walking around in their demon form and there horns snag a tree branch and they cant get it undone or something idk but i’d be laughing so hard as i help them but not before i got a pic. what would you do if they got there horns stuck and were asking for help?

Honestly, I would laugh a bit but help them as much as I can. I’m a very nice person so I help almost anyone who asks. Also, I just went with the branch/wooden object. idea cause it sounded funny. 

Unfortunately, Luci would be too prideful to do anything like that. But when I ask him if he wants some help he would scoff but when I approach without his answer he would just sigh and lean down. The branch would be wedged just right in the bend of his horns, lots of wiggling, and probably saw it a bit with my swiss army knife would get it free. He would quickly thank me and walk away hoping no one else saw that. 

Mammon would have some thin but tough branches stuck in the spirals of his horns. He would demand help but in his tundere way cause, of course. Once past that part, he would just be a blushing embarrassing mess that something was stuck. With lots of wiggling and some strong pulling, we get the branches out. Then some reassurance from me to him some head pats to send him on his way.  

Levi Got some tough driftwood stuck in his coral-like horns and he was WHINY. So I go to help him, it slimy and gross but all it took was some calculated pulls and it will slip off. Thanks me with some video games and snacks. 

Satan would be pissy. So I would be surprised if the wood didn’t just burn away. Unless it was already charcoal. Lots of wiggling like lucifers horns. once its free he probably burns it. Thanks me with some tea time and a promise to try and to be more careful next time. 

Asmo IS SCREAMING, someone please help him this is a nightmare! Some plank of wood got perfectly stuck on the tips of his horns and he got a SPLINTER!! First of calm down drama queen. second, hold still and stop crying I’ll get the splinter in a second. I will break the plank with some weakening cuts into it then a strong blow. then wiggle the pieces off. He will smother me in kisses and praise but I then move to the splinter, remove it with some tweezers as he screams, then I leave. He wants to “reward me” but no thanks. I don't trust his rewards. Sorry buddy, give me a massage on my back though and we will call it even. 

Beel doesn’t really notice since he's very focused on eating. But I’ll ask him to lean down so I can remove the pieces that were stuck between his horns and forehead. Got some pliers to get the tougher pieces out. Give him some snacks so he doesn’t nibble on me. Then some cuddles and hugs for the help. He was slightly wondering why his head was so itchy. 

Belphagor had a large branch perfectly fitted through both of his horns. So first things first will be breaking the branch and wiggling the pieces out. the upper branch part will be easy, the lower one is very stuck. Tugging didn’t work, so some cutting of the branch, and beels strength while belph was asleep and we finally got it out. He will then take me hostage and cuddle me as a prize for my exhausting but appreciated work, Dang it I had other plans LET GO.

[crystalrose555]

Don’t make me slap you pt. 5

Reblog if you want more!!!

Mochi released a drawn out yawn as her eyes fluttered open. She rolled off her back only to discover that she was floating in a body of water. With a splash, she was upright in a decent sized inflatable pool in a bedroom with leafy vines and foliage spread throughout. She snorted as she looked around, looking for any potential danger before she pulled herself out of the makeshift pool and onto the surprisingly plush floor. Turned out she landed on a thick beach towel that lined the pool’s border. 

Mochi shook her head in disbelief as she focused on the room and looked for a way out. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any windows except for the skylight above her that reflected a night sky, thus leaving her the door frame that was lined with cutesy thick curtains. If she had eyebrows, one of them would be raised out of reaction to the questionable design choices but she shook that from her mind as she bounced her way out of the room. She had to find a window, she had to figure out where in the world she was since she failed to take in her surroundings due to her sudden kidnapping and forceful relocation by the mysterious men.

Mochi grumbled to herself, thinking about how she should have taken at least one of them out to better her chances but as she bounced down the hallway, it began to sink in how that wouldn’t have turned out well. However, she still toyed with the idea that if she could have taken out the big guy in the red coat, she would be the one in charge. She snickered in her mind as she quietly made her way to the stairs. Her heart sank inside her chest as she noticed how steep the staircase was. She knew if she iced the entirety of the stairs to slide down it would take a lot out of her and she would overheat but she was definitely not a fan of the second option. Her third choice crawled into her head but she knew that she had to keep that one hidden no matter the cost, at least until the odds were in her favor. So she went with option two.

She scrunched her head and neck into her body and condensed herself into a ball, tucking her flippers in and lining her side with the edge of the stairs. Then taking a deep breath to inflate her blubbery body rounder, she closed her eyes and rocked herself to tumble down the stairs. With each step, her pudgy body bounced harder and faster. She held her breath and prayed for the stairs to end. However, she didn’t account for the amount of momentum she built as she reached the landing and crashed into the waiting wall. 

The hanging portraits and paintings rattled and shook from the force as Mochi tried to get her head to stop swirling. Once she shook off her dizziness, a large painting slipped from its spot on the wall and bounced off her plentiful blubber, leaving it leaning against the wall over her body. Mochi released an audible sigh as she developed a minor headache, wishing she had something to relieve it.

“What the hell was that?”

Mochi tensed immediately as she pulled herself together and balled up behind the sizable painting. The sound of footsteps grew closer as Mochi remained as still as she could, cursing herself for attracting unwanted attention. 

“Looks like a painting fell from the wall.”

“Well that would explain the thump but what about the squeaking noises?”

“Guys, I just checked Mochi’s room and she’s missing.” Asmo pointed out.

“The beast is loose!?”

Mochi rolled her eyes as Satan sighed.

“Mammon, you really need to calm down.”

“Oi, you calm down when she tries to bite you.”

“Whatever, let's just split up and find her.”

“Why should we? The blubber bucket is Levi’s responsibility, I say we don’t do jack.”

“Scummy as usual, besides if she gets eaten by Beelzebub then we all get in trouble.”

Mammon grumbled as the sound of footsteps echoed away. Mochi remained still and refused to move, she felt as if she wasn’t alone. Mammon, on the other hand, refused to move the landing.

“Why do I have to find the stupid seal? Besides, how far can something that fat go? It’s probably stuck somewhere.” He commented as he checked his phone.

Mochi wanted to hold in her growl but pieces leaked out the corner of her mouth. Cold escaped her body from her current aggression of being insulted.

“Huh?”

Mammon turned his attention back to the painting which seemed to be icing over to the point of being a solid rectangle of ice. Mammon backed away with his eyes wide and his cheeks puffed from a stifled laugh.

“No fucking way she can be that fucking dumb?” Mammon snorted out.

That was it, Mochi had enough of his mouth. With all the power she could muster, she bounced out of the corner of the landing and launched herself down the stairs on top of the frozen painting, riding it to the bottom but not before running Mammon over with her icy chariot. The further she went, the more joyous she felt. While keeping her balance, she raised herself up enough to clap and laugh at Mammon’s dumbfounded misfortune. By the time she reached a lower floor, her joy exploded at the thought of breaking out. However, it was short lived as her momentum dragged to a crawl. She lost her smooth patch of ice from knocking it against the stairs but she was on her way out and that’s what counted.

Mochi bounced down the hall softly, making sure she remained in the corner out of sight. She finally got a glimpse of the outside through a window but all she saw was night time and an eerie looking tree with a number of dark birds flying around. She trembled at the thought of being outside. However, that no longer mattered upon hearing the growing swears of a recovered Mammon. She bounced faster, looking for a room to dip into to avoid him.

“Mochi, where are you~”

She froze, realizing that someone was close by and actively looking for her. Quickly she hid behind one of the hallway decorations and peaked to see a puzzled Asmodeus looking around.

“Hmm, where did she go?” He questioned out loud.

Mochi gave a small snort, figuring Asmodeus was no better than Mammon since he also wanted to make a coat out of her. She, however, remained silent as she looked around for a new hiding place. 

“Oh, I know, I’ll get Beel to sniff her out!” He excitedly claimed as he began to text his brother.

Her fur suddenly stood on end as the name of Beelzebub rang in her brain. For her, his eyes and hunger reminded her of sharks and leopard seals whom she could take on in the water anyday. However, she was out of her element and she needed to get to it. She waited till Asmodeus walked past her and down the hall before she bolted towards an open area. Confused by her name being called throughout the house, she picked a random hallway that wasn’t calling her. She could feel fatigue picking at her since she used a good amount of her energy on the stairs and Mammon but her hope was rearing its head as she heard water.

Hoping it was outside, she went faster only to end up in a dead end. The room was lined with windows with a fountain in the center. She sighed in disappointed relief, at the very least she found water to refresh herself. While approaching the fountain, she took in the planets and stars on the ceiling. It would be nice if she wasn’t running for her life. However, her hope was short-lived as she felt her back flippers being pulled by a pissed off Leviathan. 

“I am not missing the Ruri-chan semi-seasonal virtual VIF conference! So get back in your room, you stupid seal!”

His serpent tail, glowing orange eyes and his pointed coral like horns would strike fear in any mortal but Mochi was no mere mortal as her own anger had reached its peak. Like a rubberband pulled past its breaking point, the room was filled with a sharp slap noise. Levi stared in astonishment, not only was he slapped in his face but it wasn’t by a flipper. There in front of him was a young ample woman with fierce purple eyes and frown on her face. Pearls seemed to drip from her fluffy black aquamarine hair as she covered her naked front with what looked like Mochi's fur. However, before his brain could process, he found himself being pulled down to the level of his short attacker.

“Haven’t anyone ever told you not to pull a lady by her flippers, ‘cause it fucking hurts!” She hissed.

"W-Wa-"

"And the next one of you to call me stupid is going to get their brain rattled! You got that, Geek Boy!?"

"Wa-Waaaaaaah!?"

[easyfoodnetwork]

Mushroom Hunting at the End of the World

Getty Images

While the rest of the country focused on something other than the forest floor, I started foraging for chanterelles

I’d been staring at the ground too long. That’s most of what foraging is, by the way. It’s ignoring the blue sky and the trees to focus your gaze on the dirt. I was walking through cobwebs, surveying the woodland floor for almost an hour, when I finally saw one: a tiny, pale chanterelle mushroom sticking up near the trail’s edge. It looked sickly, or at the very least elderly. Perhaps it was a sign that this section of the woods was untraveled, or maybe nobody had ever thought to pluck it from its habitat.

I peeled it from the ground with my paring knife and placed it into my netted, purple sack, which once housed grocery-store red onions. This lonely mushroom wasn’t the haul, mind you, but rather an indicator. When one chanterelle appears, more will follow. A few steps off the trail and they emerged in droves. Soon, my bag was filled with corpulent, spore-bearing fungi — big chanterelles with deep-orange hues and fantastical shapes, like something a Nintendo animator might draw.

Walking back with my giant bag of wild mushrooms, I ran into a couple, the first people I’d seen that day. We all scrambled to put on our masks at the distant sight of one another. “You get some chanties?” the man said in his familiar, spectacularly unusual Pittsburgh accent. “It’s a gold mine out there,” I said, trying unconsciously to disguise any hints of that same Pennsylvanian elocution. After they disappeared back into the woods, I put my mask in my pocket, where it stayed for the rest of the hike. For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

A few years back I had tasted some wild mushroom conserva courtesy of my cousin, Andy, during a trip to my hometown in Pennsylvania. Andy is a budding locavore, a self-taught forager, and a mad scientist in the kitchen. His passion is infectious. Eighty percent of the meat he consumes, he hunts himself. He cures venison and butchers whole pigs in his garage.

That first spoonful of Andy’s mushrooms, meaty chanterelles salted in a strainer, then simmered in white vinegar with gothic-looking thyme and peppercorns, is preserved in my mind, so much so that I can access that memory whenever I want. The dim lighting in my parents’ dining room, Andy standing in the kitchen with his arms confidently folded, the sound of the Mason jar lid spinning loose, and the immense joy of my first bite — stocky chanterelle mushrooms, piquant vinegar, gentle aromatics, and then the brilliant opulence of olive oil, used to preserve the mixture.

I asked Andy if I could take a jar of them back home to Los Angeles, and he obliged. Every so often, I unscrewed the lid for a small bite. I would close my eyes and feel the cold air in my hometown. If I listened carefully, I could hear the train whistles in the distance. Those mushrooms became a portal to my hometown, a culinary object so emotionally resonant, so distinct from the food I bought at my grocery store in California, that I always longed to forage and conserve a jar of my own.

I began to miss rural Pennsylvania as the pandemic encroached into summer. Like a lot of people, I felt trapped in the big city, and so in June, I went home. In Pennsylvania, everybody’s houses are set at a distance, but everyone barters home provisions, ranging from venison pastrami to crooked cucumbers to gargantuan zucchini. The summer is when the Amish sell sweet corn, and when the berry farms open their orchards. The old-timey ice cream shops end their winter break, and people start roasting whole pigs and marinated legs of lamb. It was also not lost on me that a hot, wet climate is the ideal condition for chanterelles, and that this would be the perfect time to chase that dragon: the jar of preserved mushrooms.

Once I began mushroom hunting, the calm followed. I embraced foraging, an oft-maligned word after the chef-bro boom of the 2010s. If your reaction is to recoil, you’re not alone. Before my mushroom-hunting days, I usually laughed when I saw the word “foraged” on a menu or in a magazine. Oh, did you really go out foraging, m’Lord?

The first time I went, I rode in the passenger seat of Andy’s car, down the winding rural roads of Amish country. To be honest, I didn’t immediately connect with foraging; the experience felt educational. Of course, when you’re dealing with something that can be either good in a stir-fry, consciousness-expanding, or deadly, education is important. Poisonous mushrooms actually look evil, though, an offer of good faith from Mother Nature. They often have a sinister gray or red color, with warts and scales reminiscent of the toxic fungi in fairy-tale illustrations. Andy made sure to teach me enough that I didn’t end up hallucinating through the woods — or, worse yet, dead.

People in my hometown definitely don’t fall into the stereotype of knuckle-tatted, beanie-wearing “foragers,” but they’re pretty keen on the good mushroom spots. There’s an old Polish woman, for instance, whose stiff, territorial energy I can feel whenever I show up to Gaston Park the day after a rain. Because I didn’t want to move in on another gang’s turf, I had Andy show me a few of his favorite areas. Still, it didn’t feel right: These were his discoveries, not mine. I wanted to make my own way. I wanted that excitement of stumbling across a rare mushroom, of encountering a field of freshly sprouted chanterelles. I wanted to find my own mushroom haven, and so I went to Hell’s Hollow.

daveynin/Flickr

A view from the Hell’s Hollow Trail in McConnells Mill State Park, Pennsylvania

Hell’s Hollow is a national park and trail in New Castle, Pennsylvania, about a mile down the road from my childhood home. Apparently, it’s called Hell’s Hollow because some time ago a man fell asleep in those woods, and when he woke up, he was convinced that the place he was in was actually Hell. Are the woods deep and dark? Sure. Spooky at night? Yeah, of course. But, Hell? As in the place where sinners go and are tormented for eternity? Like, Satan-owned and -operated Hell? I scoff at the idea whenever I pass the old wooden sign for the trail. What kind of idiot would think that the woods is Hell? It’s beautiful out here. I mean look, there’s a flowing river. Why would the Devil keep a freshwater source in an eternity of suffering? Rule No. 1 of Hell must be to stay hydrated. Rule No. 2? No running.

Hell’s Hollow has been a constant throughout my life. When I was a kid, my mom and dad let me splash around the creek trying to catch minnows and small crabs. When I was 10, I gleefully collected rocks and declared that I was going to be a geologist (my family would be disappointed). As teens, my friends and I smoked shag weed and smashed cans of Mountain Dew together like Stone Cold Steve Austin there. The point is, I’ve been wandering around Hell’s Hollow my whole life, and it never dawned on me that I would ever find myself foraging there. But sure enough, it was my spot.

I did not expect hunting for mushrooms to clear my head the way it did. People say that about prep work, by the way. They say that peeling potatoes and kneading dough lets the mind wander and alleviates stress. But, to me, prep work is just that: work. Dicing onions pierces the eyes, lemon juice stings, and I will always associate chopping parsley with the incoming threat of a dinner rush at one of my restaurant jobs. When people say that cooking soothes the mind, they’re not taking into account all the people who do this shit for a living. What are those people supposed to do to get away from themselves? For me, I found that wandering in the woods alone with a sense of purpose was exactly the thing I needed to weather the fire tornado of anxiety the pandemic had produced.

The act of foraging, a completely unchanged activity in a pandemic, possesses the acute ability to make me forget about the state of things entirely. Specifically, it was easy to forget about a global virus. Hunting for mushrooms in the woods alone is already distanced; there are no guidelines to follow. Walk down the street in Los Angeles and you’re immediately reminded that restaurants are shut down and live performance spaces are shuttered. But in the woods? Go ahead — sneeze full force in any direction you please. Let off some steam, pal. You’ve earned it. Sure, I had a mask, but it stayed in my pocket on the off chance that I ran into another human being, though I was more likely to spot a deer.

When I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible.

This wasn’t just a way to pass time, mind you. These weren’t nature walks I was taking. There’s a sense of ambition at the core of mushroom hunting. Purpose, the thing so many of us have felt without this year, I suddenly possessed. When there’s purpose, there’s a sense of reward, and when I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible. All my energy is focused, my aim clear. Instead of staring at the ceiling in my studio apartment, I found myself scanning the ground for edible treasure. The dopamine you receive from finding a cluster of chanterelle mushrooms in the damp woods is immense, somehow both frivolous and survivalist. There’s a real sense of childlike treasure-hunting tied to foraging.

Take the elusive cauliflower mushroom, Sparassis, which is as rare as mushrooms come. They grow sporadically; their appearance is psychedelic and aquatic. It looks coral in a way, like a living, breathing self-sustaining organism that belongs at the bottom of the ocean. Jarring, then, to find one surrounded by leaves and mossy logs. The mushroom itself is wavy and ethereal, with petals like a flower. It’s so rare that when Andy and I found one, he jumped in the air with excitement. For seven years he had been hunting for a cauliflower mushroom, and he finally got it. His triumph felt like my triumph, and in a way, it was. Later, I fried the petals of the cauliflower mushroom in oil and ate them salted. The texture was outstanding and the flavor delicate, like a homemade noodle but with the specific earthiness of a fungus. “How many people are eating a cauliflower mushroom right now?” I thought.

I felt like jumping in the air like Andy when I spotted that lone, feeble chanterelle in Hell’s Hollow. To reach that first chantie was a hero’s journey, past a path that leads to a dazzling waterfall, down a steep hill, across a stream, and through a tunnel of decaying trees. The air starts to cool down and a trained nose can begin to smell the faint notes of mushrooms in the air. Clusters of chanterelles appear like small towns; they are golden trumpets that politely announce their presence with colorful glee. Oyster mushrooms grow shelf-like on the sides of trees, and chicken of the woods, these endlessly useful and tasty orange half-moons, light up your eyes like a gorgeous sunset. That’s the thing about wild mushrooms — once you see them, you can’t unsee them. After an education in foraging, you’ll be forever scanning your surroundings, trying to manifest treasure.

As I carried back my sack of mushrooms that first time, I thought about that man who woke up in Hell’s Hollow in the night. How must he have felt? Aimless, one would assume. Probably searching for a way out of the darkness. Disoriented, without a clue where he might be in relation to the outside world. Maybe that’s what Hell is. Maybe it’s quite simply feeling lost and alone. The pandemic can feel like that, as though you’re traversing an endless dark wilderness hoping to catch a light in the distance that’ll guide you back to society. But is that a new feeling? Hasn’t it always been that way? Maybe all of life has just been wandering in the dark.

Anyway, I’m glad to be walking through the woods with a purpose.

Danny Palumbo is a comedian and writer living in Los Angeles.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2JUbLZq https://ift.tt/3korg8w

Getty Images

While the rest of the country focused on something other than the forest floor, I started foraging for chanterelles

I’d been staring at the ground too long. That’s most of what foraging is, by the way. It’s ignoring the blue sky and the trees to focus your gaze on the dirt. I was walking through cobwebs, surveying the woodland floor for almost an hour, when I finally saw one: a tiny, pale chanterelle mushroom sticking up near the trail’s edge. It looked sickly, or at the very least elderly. Perhaps it was a sign that this section of the woods was untraveled, or maybe nobody had ever thought to pluck it from its habitat.

I peeled it from the ground with my paring knife and placed it into my netted, purple sack, which once housed grocery-store red onions. This lonely mushroom wasn’t the haul, mind you, but rather an indicator. When one chanterelle appears, more will follow. A few steps off the trail and they emerged in droves. Soon, my bag was filled with corpulent, spore-bearing fungi — big chanterelles with deep-orange hues and fantastical shapes, like something a Nintendo animator might draw.

Walking back with my giant bag of wild mushrooms, I ran into a couple, the first people I’d seen that day. We all scrambled to put on our masks at the distant sight of one another. “You get some chanties?” the man said in his familiar, spectacularly unusual Pittsburgh accent. “It’s a gold mine out there,” I said, trying unconsciously to disguise any hints of that same Pennsylvanian elocution. After they disappeared back into the woods, I put my mask in my pocket, where it stayed for the rest of the hike. For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

A few years back I had tasted some wild mushroom conserva courtesy of my cousin, Andy, during a trip to my hometown in Pennsylvania. Andy is a budding locavore, a self-taught forager, and a mad scientist in the kitchen. His passion is infectious. Eighty percent of the meat he consumes, he hunts himself. He cures venison and butchers whole pigs in his garage.

That first spoonful of Andy’s mushrooms, meaty chanterelles salted in a strainer, then simmered in white vinegar with gothic-looking thyme and peppercorns, is preserved in my mind, so much so that I can access that memory whenever I want. The dim lighting in my parents’ dining room, Andy standing in the kitchen with his arms confidently folded, the sound of the Mason jar lid spinning loose, and the immense joy of my first bite — stocky chanterelle mushrooms, piquant vinegar, gentle aromatics, and then the brilliant opulence of olive oil, used to preserve the mixture.

I asked Andy if I could take a jar of them back home to Los Angeles, and he obliged. Every so often, I unscrewed the lid for a small bite. I would close my eyes and feel the cold air in my hometown. If I listened carefully, I could hear the train whistles in the distance. Those mushrooms became a portal to my hometown, a culinary object so emotionally resonant, so distinct from the food I bought at my grocery store in California, that I always longed to forage and conserve a jar of my own.

I began to miss rural Pennsylvania as the pandemic encroached into summer. Like a lot of people, I felt trapped in the big city, and so in June, I went home. In Pennsylvania, everybody’s houses are set at a distance, but everyone barters home provisions, ranging from venison pastrami to crooked cucumbers to gargantuan zucchini. The summer is when the Amish sell sweet corn, and when the berry farms open their orchards. The old-timey ice cream shops end their winter break, and people start roasting whole pigs and marinated legs of lamb. It was also not lost on me that a hot, wet climate is the ideal condition for chanterelles, and that this would be the perfect time to chase that dragon: the jar of preserved mushrooms.

Once I began mushroom hunting, the calm followed. I embraced foraging, an oft-maligned word after the chef-bro boom of the 2010s. If your reaction is to recoil, you’re not alone. Before my mushroom-hunting days, I usually laughed when I saw the word “foraged” on a menu or in a magazine. Oh, did you really go out foraging, m’Lord?

The first time I went, I rode in the passenger seat of Andy’s car, down the winding rural roads of Amish country. To be honest, I didn’t immediately connect with foraging; the experience felt educational. Of course, when you’re dealing with something that can be either good in a stir-fry, consciousness-expanding, or deadly, education is important. Poisonous mushrooms actually look evil, though, an offer of good faith from Mother Nature. They often have a sinister gray or red color, with warts and scales reminiscent of the toxic fungi in fairy-tale illustrations. Andy made sure to teach me enough that I didn’t end up hallucinating through the woods — or, worse yet, dead.

People in my hometown definitely don’t fall into the stereotype of knuckle-tatted, beanie-wearing “foragers,” but they’re pretty keen on the good mushroom spots. There’s an old Polish woman, for instance, whose stiff, territorial energy I can feel whenever I show up to Gaston Park the day after a rain. Because I didn’t want to move in on another gang’s turf, I had Andy show me a few of his favorite areas. Still, it didn’t feel right: These were his discoveries, not mine. I wanted to make my own way. I wanted that excitement of stumbling across a rare mushroom, of encountering a field of freshly sprouted chanterelles. I wanted to find my own mushroom haven, and so I went to Hell’s Hollow.

daveynin/Flickr

A view from the Hell’s Hollow Trail in McConnells Mill State Park, Pennsylvania

Hell’s Hollow is a national park and trail in New Castle, Pennsylvania, about a mile down the road from my childhood home. Apparently, it’s called Hell’s Hollow because some time ago a man fell asleep in those woods, and when he woke up, he was convinced that the place he was in was actually Hell. Are the woods deep and dark? Sure. Spooky at night? Yeah, of course. But, Hell? As in the place where sinners go and are tormented for eternity? Like, Satan-owned and -operated Hell? I scoff at the idea whenever I pass the old wooden sign for the trail. What kind of idiot would think that the woods is Hell? It’s beautiful out here. I mean look, there’s a flowing river. Why would the Devil keep a freshwater source in an eternity of suffering? Rule No. 1 of Hell must be to stay hydrated. Rule No. 2? No running.

Hell’s Hollow has been a constant throughout my life. When I was a kid, my mom and dad let me splash around the creek trying to catch minnows and small crabs. When I was 10, I gleefully collected rocks and declared that I was going to be a geologist (my family would be disappointed). As teens, my friends and I smoked shag weed and smashed cans of Mountain Dew together like Stone Cold Steve Austin there. The point is, I’ve been wandering around Hell’s Hollow my whole life, and it never dawned on me that I would ever find myself foraging there. But sure enough, it was my spot.

I did not expect hunting for mushrooms to clear my head the way it did. People say that about prep work, by the way. They say that peeling potatoes and kneading dough lets the mind wander and alleviates stress. But, to me, prep work is just that: work. Dicing onions pierces the eyes, lemon juice stings, and I will always associate chopping parsley with the incoming threat of a dinner rush at one of my restaurant jobs. When people say that cooking soothes the mind, they’re not taking into account all the people who do this shit for a living. What are those people supposed to do to get away from themselves? For me, I found that wandering in the woods alone with a sense of purpose was exactly the thing I needed to weather the fire tornado of anxiety the pandemic had produced.

The act of foraging, a completely unchanged activity in a pandemic, possesses the acute ability to make me forget about the state of things entirely. Specifically, it was easy to forget about a global virus. Hunting for mushrooms in the woods alone is already distanced; there are no guidelines to follow. Walk down the street in Los Angeles and you’re immediately reminded that restaurants are shut down and live performance spaces are shuttered. But in the woods? Go ahead — sneeze full force in any direction you please. Let off some steam, pal. You’ve earned it. Sure, I had a mask, but it stayed in my pocket on the off chance that I ran into another human being, though I was more likely to spot a deer.

When I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible.

This wasn’t just a way to pass time, mind you. These weren’t nature walks I was taking. There’s a sense of ambition at the core of mushroom hunting. Purpose, the thing so many of us have felt without this year, I suddenly possessed. When there’s purpose, there’s a sense of reward, and when I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible. All my energy is focused, my aim clear. Instead of staring at the ceiling in my studio apartment, I found myself scanning the ground for edible treasure. The dopamine you receive from finding a cluster of chanterelle mushrooms in the damp woods is immense, somehow both frivolous and survivalist. There’s a real sense of childlike treasure-hunting tied to foraging.

Take the elusive cauliflower mushroom, Sparassis, which is as rare as mushrooms come. They grow sporadically; their appearance is psychedelic and aquatic. It looks coral in a way, like a living, breathing self-sustaining organism that belongs at the bottom of the ocean. Jarring, then, to find one surrounded by leaves and mossy logs. The mushroom itself is wavy and ethereal, with petals like a flower. It’s so rare that when Andy and I found one, he jumped in the air with excitement. For seven years he had been hunting for a cauliflower mushroom, and he finally got it. His triumph felt like my triumph, and in a way, it was. Later, I fried the petals of the cauliflower mushroom in oil and ate them salted. The texture was outstanding and the flavor delicate, like a homemade noodle but with the specific earthiness of a fungus. “How many people are eating a cauliflower mushroom right now?” I thought.

I felt like jumping in the air like Andy when I spotted that lone, feeble chanterelle in Hell’s Hollow. To reach that first chantie was a hero’s journey, past a path that leads to a dazzling waterfall, down a steep hill, across a stream, and through a tunnel of decaying trees. The air starts to cool down and a trained nose can begin to smell the faint notes of mushrooms in the air. Clusters of chanterelles appear like small towns; they are golden trumpets that politely announce their presence with colorful glee. Oyster mushrooms grow shelf-like on the sides of trees, and chicken of the woods, these endlessly useful and tasty orange half-moons, light up your eyes like a gorgeous sunset. That’s the thing about wild mushrooms — once you see them, you can’t unsee them. After an education in foraging, you’ll be forever scanning your surroundings, trying to manifest treasure.

As I carried back my sack of mushrooms that first time, I thought about that man who woke up in Hell’s Hollow in the night. How must he have felt? Aimless, one would assume. Probably searching for a way out of the darkness. Disoriented, without a clue where he might be in relation to the outside world. Maybe that’s what Hell is. Maybe it’s quite simply feeling lost and alone. The pandemic can feel like that, as though you’re traversing an endless dark wilderness hoping to catch a light in the distance that’ll guide you back to society. But is that a new feeling? Hasn’t it always been that way? Maybe all of life has just been wandering in the dark.

Anyway, I’m glad to be walking through the woods with a purpose.

Danny Palumbo is a comedian and writer living in Los Angeles.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2JUbLZq via Blogger https://ift.tt/38Dk0DK

[the-strawzish-clownfish]

Oh, you wanted me to hit you with some? Bet. Do all of them Strawberry

YOBI I LEGIT JUST ASKED SOMEONE THE SAME THING

YOU’RE OMNISCIENT I SWEAR

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

I have never considered that before now but thanks for that

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

3 probably, I’m not really scared of the dark most of the time (unless it’s literally pitch black), but every once in a while i get really unnerved bc i get rlly paranoid

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Satan

4. What is your favorite word?

“faith” bc my faith and bc synesthesia

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

uhhh flowering cherry bc at my old house my brothers and I each had a tree that my dad planted for us when we were each born and mine was a flowering cherry

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

I looked in the mirror this morning?

7. What shirt are you wearing?

coral pink bubba gump shrimp co. t shirt

8. What do you label yourself as?

child of God, daughter of Sappho

9. Bright room or dark room?

bright if we’re talking natural light being let in through my windows, dark if we’re talking just normally bc rlly bright lights mess w my sensory issues

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

talking to you yobi

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

this age, I’m a firm believer in that things will always get better, even if only one small thing does improve, when i think back on past years i get anxious and nostalgia isn’t good for me

12. Who told you they loved you last?

@toomanyfanfics that one

13. Your worst enemy?

my mental health tbh

14. What is your current desktop picture?

15. Do you like someone?

never experienced romantic attraction, i used to have a plush (qp crush) on one of my best irl friends tho (@ blob have fun with this fact)

16. The last song you listened to?

I am listening to Echosmith’s Cool Kids as I am writing this, before that I was listening to Girls by Marina and the Diamonds, which is a hilarious song i 11/10 recommend

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

myself, I’m not s*icidal but I’m not killing someone else

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

whoever the person who decided Teen Vogue should endorse child pornography was

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

me, I would make myself do actual work for once

20. What is your best physical attribute?

my eyes, i just like them. fun fact this one kid i used to be kinda good friends with was talking with me on snapchat once (bc we did that a lot, back when i had snapchat) and i don’t remember how we got into this but he ended up describing my eyes really weirdly? it was really deep and got kinda strange? it was like a movie scene but via text message and then in the middle of it he was like “wtf am i doing” and i will always remember that (dude if you are for some reason reading this then idek what to say man. sorry). anyone who knows me irl (@ you blob) can take a guess as to who this is

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

idk the answer to either of those questions tbh

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

idek man sorry

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

weed, like i’m genuinely terrified of being in its presence (never been in its presence before), i’ve had nightmares about it

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

EVERY TIME I GO TO SUBWAY I GET THE SAME THING. BUFFALO CHICKEN, RANCH, AND CHEESE ON ITALIAN HERBS AND CHEESE TOASTED. I WOULD REPLICATE THAT

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

go to Atlanta and find a homeless person and buy them some clothes and food and some blankets

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

CANADA

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

first of all why is an angel giving me unlimited alcohol that’s just kinda strange second of all i am a MINOR i am not legally ALLOWED however i will probably just take whatever and give it to some people, someone will like it

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? 

be kind and do good where you can and if someone wrongs you forgive them

29. What is your favorite expletive?

as;ldkfjasdkgaj;lsdf

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

my cactus!! she is v important to me

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

the first thing that comes to mind was really traumatic for me, but it’s what brought me as close as i am to God now so idk that i would get rid of it. idrk man, it really sucked but i’m glad that I’m so much closer to God now

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a [redacted bc even though this is a hypothetical i absolutely would never do this and refuse to acknowledge it even in a hypothetical situation]. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

….Canada?

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

idk, peeps are in heaven now and i don’t really wanna take that away from them

34. What was your last dream about?

ask God not me

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

no

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

not really, however i have had several surgeries (all on my mouth) so i was in the hospital for those

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

I have built a real, genuine snowman once in my life, and the only proof is a picture i have bc i was so little i can’t even remember it. it doesn’t snow in georgia

38. What is the color of your socks?

ain’t wearing em, however most of mine are gray with some colorful bits

39. What type of music do you like?

I have an eclectic mix of favorites.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

sunrises all the way, the afternoon and evening make me anxious but nighttime and dawn and early morning are the best times

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

vanilla bitch

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

UGA i guess bc it’s ga and that’s a safe answer, i don’t really follow sports (i watch baseball sometimes though)

43. Do you have any scars?

oh i’m covered in tiny ones, the most notable being one on my thigh that was on my knee when i first noticed it. to this day i do not know how i got it

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

gay

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

i wanna be better about lying

46. Are you reliable?

heh depends, when it comes to knowing random things or being stupid, yes, but when it comes to remembering things, such as dates and times and things? absolutely not

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Has it gotten easier?

48. Do you hold grudges?

yes and no

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

a whelk and a quetzalcoatlus, no i do not accept constructive criticism

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

i once spent hours talking to myself about if it is possible for a perfectly fair coin to exist outside of theory

51. Are you a good liar?

I like to think so

52. How long could you go without talking?

Oh I could go a looooooooooooooong time, however i do have my chatterbox days and i am known for not shutting up so it’s really a tossup on that one

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

when i was 3 my mom put blonde highlights in my hair and it was absolutely absurd

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

i cannot bake to save my life, however i have made my father cheesecakes for his birthday and they turned out okay so idk

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

sco-ish

56. What do you like on your toast?

a crap ton of butter

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

dude in a graduation cap

58. What would be you dream car?

idk whatever’s cheap and works

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

uhhh not really no

60. Do you believe in aliens?

i mean i don’t think we’re the only life in the entire universe, so yeah (and also they’ve found traces of ancient bacteria on Mars so if you don’t believe then who are you kidding)

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

occasionally, i don’t believe in astrology but it’s at least somewhat accurate a lot of the time and i like to freak myself out

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

you’d think i’d have an answer for this, however i have never thought about this before. so e ig

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

if your answer to this is dinosaurs then get out of my house

64. What do you think about babies?

they’re good at shrieking, and for that i admire them

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

i am not interesting

[pinktatertots99]

id love to see your original writing :D

jkhdsfkjhfkjsf oh god. alright i’ll give y’all what a pilot for one of my works would be: apartment 134

________________

scene: (a large array of two story white houses line down a road. a young girl with long white hair that reaches her waist, poofy short sleeved yellow dressed with pastel colored blue and purple dots, matching short yellow boots is walking down the crosswalk. big black eyes that are covered half by her bowl cut bangs look rather neutral faced as she carries a plastic grocery bag to a building with numbers “134″ on it.)

scene:(stepping up the three steps bella opens the door and slams it shut, causing the 1 to fall down and leave the numbers as “34″)

bella:(hand on the door staring at it, closes her eyes and sighs.)

???:”welcome home bella.”

bella:(screams loudly, jumping causing the bag to fall to the floor and oranges popping out. catching her breath she slowly looks to the oranges and growls) “ya bloody fuckwits ya nearly gave me a heart attack!”

(three japanese characters, a tall girl with long black hair in a pink and black polka dotted tie keeping her hair in a ponytail. a boy with short black hair and a green beanie cap, and another girl that looks like the first girl who is smaller all stare at her with almost soulless eyes in their matching black tank tops, baggy pants and hard boots. in order their kelly, andy, and casey.)

kelly:”we.”

andy:”do.”

casey:”apologize.”

all three:”bella.”

(all three bow in unisom as bella rolls her eyes.)

bella:”just…uuugh just help me with the bleedin oranges we ain’t got much time!”

(all three go picking them up and heading for the kitchen. kelly slices them, andy peels some, casey unfolds some slices, and bella is squeezing juice out of one them as the door slams open.)

???:”we’re baaaaaack!!!”

(coming out of the front door is a short haired young brunette’d blue eyed man with in a white tank top, denim shorts and black work boots. this is brett; and a short blond haired brown eyed man with a yellow tank top with a black horizonel stripe on it, black pants and brown shoes and a black barret with two red hearts on it; this is buzz)

bella:”oh for fucks sakes where the hell you’ve been?!”

brett:”treating ourselves duh.”

buzz:”aaaand gettin numbers~.”

bella:”which one actually got numbers?”

both:”me.”

bella:”which one got numbers by a man?”

brett:”me!”

buzz:”oh fuck you bell’s.”

bella:”bleck, find someone inta that first ya wanka.”

(buzz blushes as brett laughs while bella leaves the kitchen)

bella:”fuckin ‘ell i forgot somethin! (rushes up the many stares that leads to the door closest to the set) you two help the trip-ets we got our landlord comin today!”

both:”why didn’t you tell us earlier!?” (neither get a reply as bella slams the door).

(in her plain room she walks back and fourth nervously, after the third time a female demon appears. eyes blue with the left one being lighter. short choppy brown hair. a tattered light green tank top and dark blue tattered skirt, red high heels and matching red belt and red collar with yellow studs accessorize on her as she levitates in the air watching with a smirk.)

tak:”hiiiii blue beeells~.”

bella:”can it. did any of the delivery imps come by?”

tak:”awww your not fun with lingering things out.”

bella:”tak i swear ta-”

tak:”anyone honestly. but no not yet.”

(once she said that a tiny chubby and purple imp popped to the two in a small puff of smoke.)

imp:”ahem. here for a…bella blair borislav brunhilde.”

bella:”yeah yeah big guy what did he say?”

imp:”gee nice meeting you too. anyways, “to the newest heir of hell’s thrown. i, beezlebub satan, have decided…to stay longer on my thrown until my death or retirement. thank you you will still be on hold till future notice.” “

(once the imp finished it exploded in dust and tiny slowly falling pieces. bella stared wide eyed with a bit of blood blown on her face as tak took the tiny spleen wrapping it around her finger)

tak:”poor things, once their messanger job is done they just pop like cute little balloons~. wonder if i can make jewlery outta these?” (as she talks bella fumes more and more angry.)

bella:”OH FUCKING BOLLOCKS!!!!”

(the entire house shakes outside. inside it also shakes as brett and buzz have plates of orange slices on platters.)

brett:”…didn’t get into hell?”

buzz:”didn’t get into hell.”

brett:”well on the brightside we might be if we don’t finish this.”

(both go back to the kitchen as bella slams the door open, wiping her face with a towel as tak follows her still floating)

tak:”daawww c’mon bell’s your so gwumpy.”

bella:”for all me years and all the bleedin souls i had-ta find i expected BETTA from that stinkin rula!!”

tak:”least ya can do whatever you want, and do whoever you want~.”

bella:”this is why i regret eva summonin ya ya mistake.”

casey:”bella.”

(both look to find casey with a scroll.)

casey:”this came in the mail for you.”

bella:”oh for fuck sakes. (snatches it and opens it) …oh bloody satan.”

tak:”wha?”

bella:”it’s cursed.”

tak:”how could you tell?”

bella:”that depen’s is the ghost ninja an ol’ fling of your’s?”

(all the residents looked to find a see through ghost ninja staring at them, withdrawing a katana and rushing to the closest brett. using the platter as a shield he quickly moves to slice it’s head in two)

brett:”hah!”

ninja:(forms into two)

brett:”oh…”

(both go to attack, only for casey to withdraw two nine milimeter guns to shoot them. causing an increase only to shoot more till the whole room is filled with them with the small group huddled at the stair case.)

bella:”alright, any other bright ideas!?”

buzz:”hmmmmmmmm-”

(all rush up the stairs with kelly taking buzz by the collar as the ninja ghosts chase them to bella’s room. once all in bella puts salt infront of the door from her pockets. brett rushes to the window and pours some that’s right next to it. soon they all sit catching their breaths.)

bella:”that…was rhetorical…ya dumb blonde.”

buzz:”wwell what do we do?!”

bella:”it’s a curse from the bloody map.”

brett:”can’t you burn it?!”

bella:”it’s chain mail dumbarse! ya can’t burn chainmail!”

tak:”soooo what do we do? can i fuck em to afterlife?”

bella:”mean, be a good distraction cause i’m shit at japanese. (squinting her eyes to read) something something solider something something souls-”

andy:”(reading the scroll) this scroll contains the unsatisfied souls of ninety nine royal ninja solders. they will attack and increase with each critical hit till all of them come out. the only way to take care of this is to take out three solders. the solder with the golden bracelet, the luitennet’s green tied ponytail, and the lead general’s red earring.”

bella:”…and this is why i have three of ya. (pulls out a handle only for a sword’s blade to magically come out) ready ya lot?”

buzz:”(pulls a small knife from his boot) born ready baby!”

buzz:(catches a nine revolver from casey as she busy’s arming herself with a sniper rival)”man, i’m still not good at this guys!”

tak:”(her hands slowly turn into red sharp claws) keep by me sugar, i’ve been needing this for a hella long time~.”

bella:”rememba, gold bracelet, green tie, red earring. (opens the door as they all run out screaming)”

(swiftly brett keeps some ghosts from hitting him, using his small knife as a sword. looking around he spots a ninja with a golden bracelet.) brett:”over there!”

casey:(shoots him down with a sniper rifle, a decrease of 33 ghosts happens as kelly and andy busy protecting her with their own blades fighting off the other ghosts)

(continuing the battle tak sighs as her darker blue eye turns a shade of black with a red iris. her fangs growing out as her wings, horn and tail show themselves.) tak:”oh this is JUST what i needed~!” (taking off her heals she quickly took off the heel on both to show knives attatched. putting them back on she proceeds quickly slashing and slicing the other ghosts till she notices a ninja with a green hair tie.) “oh THERE you are pretty boy~!” (rushes away from them as she tackles him, a decrease ensues leaving only 33 left) “boooo, was hopin he’d stay longer~.”

bella:(slices more ninja’s that only come back as she snarls)”bloody things, first landowna, then satan, now ya is this supposed ta ruin my day!?” (quickly she notices one with a red earring closer to buzz) “OI VIRGIN SHOOT THE ONE NEXT TO YA!”

buzz:”first of all RUDE! second i can’t shoot!”

bella:”JUST PRETEND IT’S ME THEN!”

buzz:”but i like you!!!”

bella:”pretend it’s some bloody arse ya hate!”

buzz:(musters up an angry look as he aims the gun)”I WANTED TO GO WITH MOM YOU SELFISH DICK!” (shoots the gun at the final one, desimating all the ghosts as all of them sigh of relief)

(before anything can be said three of the apparations appear before the group as they regroup, bowing to them. in response the trip-ets bow, bella, brett and tak following with buzz forcefully bowing thanks to bella as the three go back into the scroll, magically tying it up.)

buzz:”so…we have to give that…to someone else now right?”

bella:”usually but this is a pretty hefty one. we can keep these kind for emergencies.”

buzz:”like?”

brett:”a relative?”

buzz:”oh…i call dibs!”

(the doorbell rung, all of them besides the trip-ets looked horrified as they noticed the disrepair of the slashed and bullet ridden house. quickly they all scrammed grabbing a dented platter and placing orange slices, orange juice and yogurt with oranges in it on it.)

bella(opens the door with a forced smile holding the platter):”hhey hi yes hello mista tree!”

(infront was a wealthy and weighted man with a bright blue tux with an orange undershirt and green tie, his hair balding only leaving a flip of orange hair on it and a full orange mustache as he glared down with orange brown eyes)

mr. tree:”bout time you lolly-gagging apricots! (takes a orange slice and eats it with the peal on) now you know the deal i have to see the- SWEET CORAL CARROTS! (he sees the damage inside)”

bella:”…ehehe uhm…riight well i mean we can fix this just uh-”

mr. tree:”YOU KIDS AND YOUR REBEL ROUHSING I’M KICKING YOU OUT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!”

(all looked horrified except the trip-et’s who looked neutral. tak hummed and groaned as she became visible to him, floating closely to him as her eye’s turned a lustful pink color.)

tak:”you don’t wanna do that~.”

mr. tree:”I-…don’t…want to do that.”

tak:”you wanna do your wife instead~.”

mr. tree:”i…wanna do my wife…instead.”

tak:”good boy~. now have this~.” (smooching his head mister tree was put in more of a dream-like hypnosis daze.)

mr tree:”misses tree…your wearing an orange one piece…made of actual oranges? …god i’m hungry~.”

tak:(flicks his head into a portal and slamming the door shut)”that should lead him back home….i think.”

bella:”long as we get this shit cleaned up before next inspection.”

buzz:”awww noooow? we just got done taking on an army!”

bella:”yeah well i didn’t get to rule hell today so no one’s gonna be bloody happy! now pick up a broom and get sweepin ya trigger happy nut case.”

(they all groan save for the trip-ets as they all moved to clean. expanding out of the house the 1 from earlier magically turns back up.)

[drfirsnogayny]

Funguary 2024 Day 23

🪬 Week 4: Cryptic 🫂 Mycorrhizal network

He found her when she was just a baby, and since then he has taken care of her as if he were his own daughter. In grateful she also helps him at work and at home. All in all, a nice family.

This is not the humanization of the mycelium itself, but the humanization of the mycorrhiza process. As you might guess, the man symbolizes a tree, and the girl symbolizes a mushroom. This time she does not symbolize any specific mushroom (although its colors are taken from the reference, which, apparently, is drawn by Porcini)

Other arts:

🧢 Mycena Subcyanocephala

🪸 Lilac Coral Fungus

🦃 Turkey Tail

☁️ Cystolepiota

🏮 Filoboletus Manipularis

🪽 Angel Wings

🧽 Penicillin

👹 Satan's Bolete

🌳 Silver Leaf Fungus

🗡️ Destroying Angel

🪺 Birds Nest Fungus

🧟 Dead Man's Fingers

👒 Lilac Bonnet

🩸 Bleeding Tooth

🪮 Black Velvet

🍜 Enoki

🍘 Dotted Stem Bolete

🌧️ Inky Cap

☕ Black Trumpet

🧤 Amethyst Deceiver

🍚 Puffball

💧 Dewdrop Bonnet

🫂 Mycorrhizal Network 🍄

🎭 False Blusher

🐕 Stinkhorn

🌵 Prototaxites

🪬 Blue Coprinopsis

🐝 Icing Sugar Fingus

💋 Magic Mushroom

Organizer: @/feefal

🇷🇺 Pic on ref

[electricarmchair]

99 Songs I Listened To In 2018

1. The Lovin’ Spoonful – Summer in the City

2. Elliott Smith – Kiwi Maddog 50/50

3. Dick Dale – Misirlou

4. Cream – Tales Of Brave Ulysses

5. Ween – Buckingham Green

6. Mark Lanegan – The Winding Sheet

7. The Velvet Underground – I’ll Be Your Mirror

8. Gorillaz – Tranz

9. Queens Of The Stone Age – River In The Road

10. Kate Bush – Army Dreamers

--

11. Tiny Tim – Livin’ In The Sunlight, Lovin’ In The Moonlight

12. Beck – Walls

13. Pixies – Gouge Away

14. The Zombies – Time Of The Season

15. The Beatles – A Taste Of A Honey

16. Focus – Hocus Pocus

17. Radiohead – 15 Steps

18. The Good, The Bad & The Queen – Green Fields

19. Johnny Cash – I’ve Been Everywhere

20. The Vaselines – Dying For It

--

21. Raconteurs – Steady, As She Goes

22. John Frusciante, Josh Klinghoffer – The Afterglow

23. PJ Harvey ft. Thom Yorke – This Mess We’re In

24. Del Shannon – Runaway

25. The Doors – I Can’t See Your Face In My Mind

26. The Undertones – When Saturday Comes

27. Morphine – You Speak My Language

28. Stone Temple Pilots – Atlanta

29. Alt-J – Left Hand Free

30. Mono Puff – Guitar Was The Case

--

31. My Morning Jacket – Touch Me I’m Going To Scream Pt.2

32. William Shatner – Common People

33. Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip – Beat That My Heart Skipped

34. David Bowie – Come And Buy My Toys

35. Pink Floyd – Paintbox

36. Slipknot – Spit It Out

37. Kyuss – Thee Ol’ Boozeroony

38. The Psychedelic Furs – Sister Europe

39. Neil Young – Old Man

40. Donovan – Goldwatch Blues

--

41. Barnes & Barnes – The Little Man

42. The B-52’s – Rock Lobster

43. DEVO – The Day My Baby Gave Me A Surprize

44. The Turtles – Happy Together

45. Mogwai – Mogwai Fear Satan

46. Froth – Lost My Mind

47. The Smiths – Bigmouth Strike Again

48. They Might Be Giants – Nightgown Of The Sullen Moon

49. Flower Travellin’ Band – Satori Part I

50. Misfits, Jimmy Destri – Great Balls Of Fire

--

51. Napoleon XIV – They’re Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!

52. Pete Townshend – I Put A Spell On You

53. Tom Waits – Clap Hands

54. Gerard McMann – Cry Little Sister

55. Arcade Fire – Joan Of Arc

56. Lou Reed – This Magic Moment

57. The Von Bondies – C’mon C’mon

58. Angel Olsen – Sweet Dreams

59. Buzzcocks – Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)

60. The Coral – Bill McCai

--

61. Charlie Daniels – The Devil Went Down To Georgia

62. Shel Silverstein – The Unicorn

63. The 5.6.7.8’s – Woo Hoo

64. The Reverend Horton Heat – Pride Of San Jacinto

65. Syd Barrett – Effervescing Elephant

66. The Soggy Bottom Boys – I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow

67. Meat Puppets – Split Myself In Two

68. Ten Years After – I’d Love To Change The World

69. The High Numbers – Zoot Suit

70. Daikaiju – The Trouble With Those Mothra Girls

--

71. The Grande Bois – The Last Outpos

72. The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band – Shifting Sands

73. Steppenwolf – The Pusher

74. Love – Alone Again Or

75. Oysterhead – Little Faces

76. Edvard Grieg – In The Hall Of The Mountain King

77. Marilyn Manson – The Speed Of Pain

78. Oingo Boingo – The Imposter

79. Black Francis – Threshold Apprehension

80. Amanda Palmer – The Killing Type

--

81. The Breeders – Cannonball

82. I Monster – The Blue Wrath

83. Van Der Graaf Generator – Killer

84. Screaming Trees – Make My Mind

85. Squeeze – Up The Junction

86. Einsturzende Neubauten – The Garden

87. Rupert Holmes – Escape (The Pina Colada Song)

88. Joanna Newsom - Sapokanikan

89. Elton John – I Need You To Turn To

90. Connan Mockasin – Egon Hosford

--

91. Sex Bob-Omb – Threshold

92. The Coasters – Yakety Yak

93. Folk Implosion – Insinuation

94. Foo Fighters – Ballad Of The Beaconsfield Miners

95. She Wants Revenge – Red Flags And Long Nights

96. Amon Duul II – Archangel Thunderbird

97. Pink Frost – The Chills

98. David Arkenstone – The Fairy Ring

99. Michael Fassbender, The Soronprfrbs – I Love You All

[perkoform]

SKITS

Title:

The WHOLE-SALE

Characters:

Shipping God

Middle Man

Customer

Plot:

Okay so middle man is on the phone to shipping God the whole time. Customer is trying to buy a beauty product that makes you look EXACTLY like Grace Kelly, through this shipping company. But middle man keeps refusing.  It is one act.

*note on recitation: watch youtube video called: Zuikin Girls – take anything you want! For tonal value.

Dialogue:

Shipping god: we can’t sell that. Tell her that.

Middle man: I’m sorry ma’am we can’t sell you that product today.

Customer: come on, I have the money. (Pause). Trust me sir, I know about the side effect, how it makes you look EXACTLY like Grace Kelly.

Middle man: (turns away from customer) she says she has the money and that she knows about the side effect, what do I say.

Shipping God: don’t tell her anything. Say we do not sell this product.

Middle Man: I’m sorry ma’am we do not sell this product, you will have to try somewhere else.

Customer: (to audience) contrary to popular cinematic convention, (whips out giant gun) I’m not going to whip out a giant gun and threaten the guy, because I can’t get what I want. (throws gun over shoulder)

Customer: it’s a beauty product! I mean, can’t I for a moment take my own health into my own hands…?! (scoff)

Shipping God: tell her, it’s her health.

Middle Man: it’s your health, ma’am.

Everyone laughs

*Someone holds up a sign to the audience that says, ‘LATERS, ON…’

On stage is a girl with her hair in a towel, wearing a GRACE KELLY mask.

    Title:

I ordered ‘The Rest of Eternity’ Online

Characters:

Shipping God

Customer

DIALOGUE: Customer: hi, I ordered ‘someone else’s life to live’ the other day from your company, but some part of the product was still a drag to experience, and I’d like my money back please.

Shipping God: I’m sorry sir, there must have been some kind of mistake. I would like to inform you that we have just received a new shipment of, ‘Krishna’s Own’ Good Karma, ‘Corrupt Cops’, ‘Colonial Values’ and ‘The Original Scapegoat’ that comes in ‘the body and the blood red’,‘Twin Towers were an inside job grey’, and ‘the dingo stole my baby blue’. The blue one comes with an ‘assumption’, on the house. Would you like to try one of these products today sir?

Customer: Why thank-you, I might try ‘Corrupt Cops’. Do you still stock Solipsism? Yes? Thank-you, I’d like to order 22 of this product if that’s possible.

Shipping God: Okay sir, the items will be shipped out just in time for the next mention of a social revolution.

Customer: tank-you.

             Title:

The Punch-Up: Season 1

Characters:

Fred

Jim

(played by women)

Plot:

Fred and Jim are having a rational conversation about how they do not get along at the moment and about how they used to be friends.

*NOTE: Jim and Fred both wear one boxing glove each. Fred is holding a beer can the whole time. Jim is holding tongs and wearing an apron.

Dialogue:

Fred: oh my god I hate youuuuuuu…(said like, hi how are you?)

*throws a punch

Jim: you have no idea (said like, its been a while how are you? Using fake smiles.)

*throws a punch

Fred: I’m going to kill you over that incident with my wife.

*punching each other

Jim: haven’t you heard of polyamory, maybe you should branch out and actually live a little.

*remove their punching gloves and stop punching

Fred: you know…you make a good point. I actually can’t fight you there…I agree, but you see I’m channelling Barbara, (turns to crowd and says, ‘she’s my wife’) and she needs me to be jealous, so you are gonna fuckin’ pay for what you did. I am pissed.

*put gloves back on and start punching again

Jim: tell her I’d knock her up, that’ll do it. .  

*cease punching for a moment, jim and fred grab each other by the shoulders and say

Fred: we should all just have kids withal the wimmin. Leave no womin unimpregnated. 24/7.

Jim: yeah, what kind of society is this? What are we even doing here, I mean why isn’t 24/7 baby making like, the norm??

*resumes punching. Jim continues punching as Fred stops to contemplate

Fred: I’m gonna try and answer that. Perhaps it’s just not the right time in earth’s geological cycle to support that kind of reproduction, the food plants are not growing enough. They are sending us an internal, instinctual message that this is kind of life is not supportable at the moment.

Fred continues punching as Jim states

Jim: very logical, I think that’s the reason. So again, why do you hate me? Because Barbara needed you to be jealous so that she feels valued?

*fight stops for a second

Fred: I’m not the type to say to her, ‘but hey Barbara, you scored me and Jim!’

- maybe I should say to her, ‘you’re an individual’, that wouldn’t go down that well, maybe ‘you’re special, there’s only one of you’.

Jim: try saying, ‘you suit me uniquely’

Laughter from Fred and Jim

*resume punching. They punch for a while. Jim goes down cold, Fred states

Fred: it’s just like I don’t even know, there’s no one like her or anyone for that matter. Even twins are different. So like, I can’t value her anymore at the moment.

*Jim is lying on the ground, he states

Jim: I get it you have to like, show her that you value her, without getting into a brawl, show her that jealousy is not the answer! Free love is the answer!

Fred: I don’t know how that’s possible, all reason aside.

Jim: okay Fred, okay.

 PROPS:

Boxing gloves

A moustache (for Fred)

Face paint (to paint a beard on Jim)

Beer can

Tongs

Misogynistic apron

*note must be wearing wife beaters and short shorts

    Title:

Get A Way With It

CHARACTERS:

Jimmy

God

PLOT:

*Jimmy is reciting the following text, while doing the following things:

 Jimmy shoots Satan

Jimmy shoots God

Jimmy dowsing the Great Barrier reef with bleach.

Jimmy cuts down the oldest tree known to man.

Jimmy dressed as Captain Cook, shooting Aborigines

Jimmy dressed as Bob Marley, shooting the sheriff.

A baby born doll with giant lollipop. Jimmy steals the lollipop.

Jimmy is wearing a shirt that says, ‘Get-a-way-with-it’

 DIALOGUE:

*Jimmy smokes a bong.

God: And so it was told, (Jimmy shoots Satan)

Jimmy: (said with an efficient air) Shit in one hand, wish in the other and see which one gets full quickest. (shoots God)

This is what my mother used to say. (Shoots aborigine)

Because everyone knows that if you can get away with it, (bleaches the reef)

it’s legal. Because, well, it happened. (steals candy from baby) No one stopped you right?

and so, It. Is. legal. (licks the lollipop, then throws it away)

So, aim for the heart, stab once, and tell ‘em, down the street. Because (shoots the Sheriff)

you only get one chance, and if you fuck it up, it’s your head on the chopping block. (cuts down the tree)

 PROPS:

Hitler moustache

Bandana (for aborigine)

Face paint – black and white

boomerang

Fork and horns

Toga and beard

Captain cook hat

A map

20 Litre storage container/round fish tank with coral statue in it. (to label with a sign that says ‘the great barrier reef’)

Bottle of bleach

A bong

Baby born doll

Giant carnival lollipop

Dreadlock wig

Sheriff badge

Potato gun

Potato

Cardboard cut-out of a tree

A saw

A t-shirt

Black marker

          Title:

Poignant Sculptural representations #1: The Winning Diorama at the Primary School Fete

Plot:

20 litre storage container full of black water with a layer of dirt and astro-turf stuck to the lid. Jimmy sticks a pump in the turf and pumps out the “oil” into a jerry can, by sucking on the pipe. Meanwhile, an automated voice reads out geological facts about oil and its lifespan and how it’s the nutrients for the forests of the future.  (in a really poignant way.)

Title:

Poignant Sculptural Representation #2: The Prospective Sculpture

Plot:

On a table is 30kg of clay with a scroll in a canister, hidden inside. Participants have 5minute to search through the clay for the canister with the scroll inside. If they find the scroll they get a free beer. This will be on stage by the way, in the interval.

              Title:

Track Marks and Pigeonholes

Characters:

‘Main Character’

‘Other people’

Plot:

*this is a video work

‘Main character’ is not a heroin addict.

‘Other people’ believe that ‘main character’ is a heroin addict. ‘Other people’ won’t stop treating ‘main character’ like a heroin addict.

‘Other people’ are constantly trying to catch ‘main character’ in “the act” of taking heroin but ‘main character’ actually never takes heroin so they will never catch them.

‘Other people’ cry and wail and state “when do you do it, I know that you do!” and grab him by the arm, to check for track marks.

‘Main character’ always begs ‘other people’ to believe that “I don’t do that, seriously. I don’t know what else to say.”

SCENARIOS:

‘other people’ bust in on ‘main character’ and accuse him of taking heroin:

-          On the toilet

-          In the shower

-          In bed asleep

-          At the corner store at 11pm

-          Driving

-          Praying in an empty church

-          Helping an old lady across the street

-          While watching television, the people on the television are accusing him.

-          Running from crazed fan grrls.

-          In china from inside a bowl of rice.

-          After he drops a hanky and a crowd swamp him ‘Perfume-style’. He blurts out over the top of the crowd, I don’t take heroin!

Haha

 *ALSO:

Idea: Making Mighty Boosh Into a SERIOUS DRAMA about father-son bonding psychology

Title:

Initially Undetected

Story:

“You’re Not allowed to Draw Me While I’m Raping you emotionally with This Other Girl,” he said, sounding a bit annoyed. “it totally ruins the point.” He got up and pulled out his dick, no no, he pulled it out then got up and walked over to me. He grabbed the computer I was using to draw him with (on paint) and clipped me in the head, with the computer. I went down cold, hah hah. Funny story.

 Title:

Last in Winning Backwards #1

Plot:

A girl wakes up in her backyard one morning. She is lying on her back on the grass. She thinks, “it’s a beautiful day, I might go for a walk”. She goes for a walk in the park. As she’s walking she contemplates life. The end.

Dialogue:

*Birds twitter. The sun is shining.

Girl: hmm I think I might go for a walk.

*Cut to park. Girl is walking

Girl: I think that I might believe today that I was born along time ago. And it was before anyone I know in this life were ever alive. I had decided shortly after I was born that, I would never fuck and live forever. So I guess it makes sense that larger society marginalise me. I ignore it when they marginalise anyone else, really it’s just me. The point being, for the third time, they marginalise people. They hate. They are murderers. They don’t get shit. They don’t honestly do it with the same vengeance to everyone else, and and, hell is hierarchical. Not heaven. So I’m the top dog around here. Do you get shit? Hah hah respiratory I fucking will wake up in this bed cunt tomorrow morning. You will NOT get me out of bed, CUNT.

[cosmik-homo]

I just realized how limited my knowledge of america is so i’m compiling a list of thoughts and things i know about the American states and waiting to be educated by shocked American followers. basically im bored af ok

this is in the order i thought about them, and i do not know all 52 states (54? 51? 50?) so like. some will not be here.

California- big happy beach state with a lot of the entertainment stuff I was on vacation there once- they have big water parks and I think Disney and stuff. apart from that, like, a lot of trees.

Florida- ah no never mind this is the happy beach place with the Disney whoops. thinking of Florida just makes me think of flip flops and i dont know why.

New York- its also a state isn't it. thats why all the songs go “new york, new york”- first city name then state its in. Contains New York. liberal.

Texas- deep south, giant, tex-max food. batshit crazy and very republican, they have gns and “Don’t Mess With Texas” signs.

Georgia- also southern, i think thats where McCoy from star trek was born. they have accent and drink sweet tea and are kinda old fashioned.

Carolina- also southern, there are two of those but i dont rember their names. that’s where the civil war happend, so they used to have slaves here. i mean all of america used to have slaves but these guys really wanted to have slaves.

Nevada- a big red desert! that is where Les Vegas is.

Hawaii- islands that are a lot farther fro us mainland then i expected. aloha! unique culture, interesting eco system with coral reefs and volcanoes, and also importantly where lilo and stitch took place. Another thing that took place there is pearl harbor.

West virginia- MOUNTAIN MOMMA... The McElroy homeland, it has a lot of forests and mountains.

Virginia- I was sure up until a few weeks ago the other virgina was south virgina but apperantly its just regular virginia, idk.

Oregon- i lived here for a bit! a lot of forests and wildlife, its rains there all the time so you get used to walking in the rain. The state capital is portland and it was a nice place. aso gravity falls takes place in oregon.

New Jeresy- people seem to hate that place, but idont know why. funny accent and a lot of beachs.

Kansas- the wizard of oz! a lot of farms and corn. just a yellowy place.

Washington- Baffaling, but the city of Wshington DC is NOT RELATED to the STATE OF WASHINGTON. THEYRE NOT EVEN CLOSE. WHY.

Utah- mormons. the capital of this one is salt lake city whcich is a pretty nice sounding name, even i not a very creative one.

Iowa- sparely polpulated land where corn and satan rein supreme.

thats all the states i know stuff about, i can name like ~10 more but sue me if i know where they are or what they do.