#then you can’t throw a rock without hitting that things merch

[softer-ua]

So I’ve been joking for a while about how Inko manages to afford all of Izuku’s AM merch

But I decided to nerd out and look closer, and I’m pretty sure the only expensive piece Izuku owns is the poster he got from Sir

You might think his dorm looks absolutely stacked

but that’s only because it’s a very small room and he brought every piece he owns

If you look in his old room it’s all the same posters

so he’s owned it all for at least a few years, he’s been working up to this for god knows how many years, just to be the proud owner of 5 posters so basic even he would put tape on them

All of his figures are less than 50$

One of which he’s had since he was a child

And it doesn’t look like the other unidentified figures are anything special either(except maybe AM in his yellow suit)

Izuku only has generic fanboy shit, like maybe one of the posters is a custom but I honestly I don’t think he owns a single special anything

The dead guy poster is 100% the coolest thing he has, no wonder he’s so reverent about it 💀

As for fits this is all we’ve really seen is

So yeah Inko isn’t dropping stacks on merch, I’m pretty sure those sweaters were a 2 for 1 deal because they’re almost identical 💀

[because-its-eurovision]

Wait so what happened between Finnish people and Lordi? This is the first I'm hearing about their reputation being trashed there :0

This is going to be one of my thousand-word essay answers, so strap in.

I also did not know how badly they were treated during the years following Esc until Yle published this article in May 2021. It is in Finnish and I can’t be bothered to translate the whole thing, but the article consists of our previous representatives Lordi (2006), Hanna Pakarinen (2007), Kuunkuiskaajat (2010), Paradise Oskar (2011) and Sandhja (2016) telling about their Esc experiences and how the Finnish public and music industry treated them during and after that (spoiler alert: it wasn’t great). The article was linked to the Finnish Esc forum and I remember us all being very shocked and upset because it was the first time we actually heard about the negativity and hatred Lordi experienced. I do think most of us just assumed their hype went away quietly. What follows is based on my own memories of the time as well as what the band has told publicly.

I remember the 2006-2007 being full on Lordi craze. Their merch and albums being sold at supermarkets. Lordi Cola, Lordi candy. Lordi themed restaurant in Rovaniemi. Celebrations, awards, statues. Squares and buildings named after them, their faces in credit cards and postage stamps. The Arockalypse being the most sold album of 2006, selling triple platinum. In Emma Gaala Lordi won Band of the Year, Song of the Year and Export of the Year, Hard Rock Hallelujah was the most played song of the year, everywhere you went you saw kids wearing Lordi shirts (...sounds familiar?😶)

The way I see it is that by just participating in the national selection, let alone Esc, Lordi had lost all the credibility they had left in the eyes of rock/metal puritans, selling themselves and whatnot because Eurovision a cringefest as we know. I don’t know if music based subcultures are as gatekeepy and stick-in-their-ass level of humourless as they used to be in the mid-to-late 00′s but I pray to satan they are not because that time was ROUGH and I think it might have something to do with what happened to Lordi. 

During those years I spent a lot of time hanging on metalhead and goth discussion forums (because social media wasn’t a thing yet) and I remember it being exactly oh you like this band? name their every song kinda tiring stuff. People arguing about genres and if some band was heavy metal, heavy rock or just metal, or if you could be a goth if you rode a bicycle (??) or listened to anything else besides Joy Division, or if you had the right to wear a band shirt if you couldn’t name all the members, or that if your favorite song from a band was a big hit were you considered a poser, or could a goth person like Nightmare Before Christmas merch or was it too emo, and so on and so forth, and everything was super serious. I remember people even throwing a fit when Children of Bodom wore Hawaii shirts in promo pics.🤦‍♀️So considering the attitudes of the era and the fact that Lordi had been a divisive artist already (can’t take anyone seriously if they wear a costume or are in character) long before Esc, it is in a way no wonder that the music puritans turned their backs on them. Goes without saying how ridiculous that is imo, but anyway.

Normies, aka not fans of the contest or the band beforehand, on the other hand jumped on the Esc boat for the year when Finland was the reigning champion. Our stupid little nation LOVES competing and being champions, so much so that we have a habit of inventing our own ridiculous contests just to win. Like, everyone wanted to get tickets to the live shows in Helsinki, more people joined the Finnish OGAE than ever before, everyone bought the Esc album of 2007 and so on.

And then when the glitter had settled, our hosting year was over and we didn’t do so hot at 2007 & 2008 Escs despite sending “heavy” entries, I guess that normies just returned to their default attitude towards Eurovision which is viewing it as embarassing, pointless, glittery, gay, good-for-nothing waste of time and money in which none of the music can be taken seriously because it’s Eurovision and thus by default shit. 

In the article I linked at the beginning Mr. Lordi tells how performing abroad and in Finland was like night and day. During the Deadache tour 2009 they sold out arenas in Central Europe but couldn’t sell even half the tickets to a club in Finland. Finnish audience spit at them, yelled obscenities, showed middle fingers, asked the band to play quieter or play the eurovision song. Like, I have no idea why you would buy a ticket and go to someone’s show just to be a dick. Teräsbetoni (Esc 2008) has also told in the interviews that at one point they had a group guys in the front row at their shows who just kept yelling GAY during the whole gig 😑

In conclusion: Finnish people got Eurovision hangover from the ridiculous Lordi craze of 2006-2007 and then moved on. Meanwhile Lordi had lost both their original fanbase and failed to gain a new one as the ESC hype went away, that’s how I see it at least.

I could go on a full length tangent about how the BC fever gives me not-so-positive flashbacks to Lordi graze, but I’m too tired for that. What I want to point out though is that I’m not that worried about BC getting the Lordi treatment for two reasons: they weren’t big before Esc so they had practically nothing to lose, and they didn’t win (THANK GOD). Niko & Joel have also brought up this in interviews which makes me admire how smart they actually are for always having known what should be the next move for the band. I also want to believe that Eurovision has changed from the campiest times (2000-2010) to more serious direction and simultaneously gained back the ability to produce global hits and stars again (Måneskin, Duncan Laurence, Rosa Linn) which is something we haven’t really seen since 1988. As a side note I’m really glad to see some of that bleeding into our national selection as well, because before BC and Bess the last time someone became successful thanks to our Eurovision NF and not despite was in 1989.

As @reunalordi importantly pointed out in their tags, this is/was what happened to Lordi’s popularity in Finland specifically. They still have a big fanbase abroad afaik and if someone knows more about their popularity/success nowadays, please do correct me <3

[rainydawgradioblog]

A. Savage showed me I can write a decent song (I’m delusional)

My first major purchase after arriving in Copenhagen last summer was a ticket to see Andrew Savage’s European tour in February. The legendary Parquet Courts co-frontman played Ideal Bar in Vesterbro with his band Midnight Stew to a crowd of me and 99 tall mustachioed film bro-looking Danish lads in their 20s and 30s. I fit right in wearing my artsy new A. Savage “Riding Cobbles” t-shirt, as Andrew convinced me with his lovely little tunes to write a song of my own.

Andrew’s visual aesthetic had me straight to Ticketmaster before his latest album Several Songs About Fire even dropped. Everything he rolled out in promo shoots, cover art, and concert merch was drenched in David Hockney meets “The Adventures of Tintin” meets the doodles on the back of my middle school binder. 

Paired perfectly with the cartoony visuals, the music of Sevel Songs About Fire boils down melodies to a uniquely simple formula. Nothing is overcomplicated, leaving plenty of room to feel every chord change and focus on his glorious rusty voice, which is down-to-earth but also smooth enough to make me think he could burn the house down singing Frank Sinatra hits if he wanted. Andrew’s style makes great songwriting feel like something that anyone with a shitty guitar can do, and that’s not meant to sound shady. 

Another major draw to Andrew’s music is his lighthearted pessimistic humor that he throws all over his lyrics. It’s the same humor that my dad’s college buddies who never had kids embody. You can tell he’s got a weird whimsical take on the world in the way he phrases his feelings. “My weekly dinner of popcorn and Coke / Every Friday, like communion that I took as a joke” in the intro “Hurtin’ or Healed” is objectively a bit bleak but you can’t help but smirk and hope you're as witty as him at age almost 40.

I can thank Andrew and his band Parquet Courts for my appreciation of art punk and a lot of the politically charged folk rock I obsess over today like early Courtney Barnett and Fontaines DC. The band’s pop art aesthetic and funky yet punky take on indie rock recontextualized a lot of harsh punk aesthetics into something that made a lot more sense to me when I was first getting into music. Album’s like Wide Awake and Human Performance were palatable but gritty enough to slap some taste into my teenage brain.

Where Andrew’s solo work deviates from Parquet Courts is his more laid back take on songwriting, packed full of energy without doing the most. He’s got a handful of chords and progressions that are standard but still sound so uniquely his own. Hearing a song like “Le Ballon” or his latest single “Black Holes, the Stars and You” put Andrew’s skill at building tension and emotion with just a few particular chords and subtle melodies on full display.

Most of the emotion conveyed on Sevel Songs About Fire is rooted in finding comfort in simple pleasures and observations in a life far from a sense of home. Living all the way in Denmark, I listen to “Riding Cobbles” bumping down the cobbled Copenhagen streets, “My New Green Coat” while wrapped in my new thrifted Bob Dylan jacket, and “Mountain Time” watching the geese fly in Vs like they do in the Cascades back home. 

To me, the album is music to ramble to– it’s the music you listen to with your thumb out on the side of the road with a knapsack tied to a stick over your shoulder. I listened to the new album for the first time while waiting for trains between Berlin and Copenhagen, anticipating a long bus ride to Stockholm the next day. Being on exchange often felt chaotic, trying to experience as many new things as I could without a lot of regard to my ability to settle down, and Sevel Songs About Fire is exactly that. Andrew mentioned during his set that he loves touring because he has the unique ability of finding a sense of home in a lot of places, something I wish I was better at.

After Andrew’s show, I picked up my very own $35 guitar from the charity shop down the street and started thinking about tiny observations or inanimate objects that made me feel any kind of something. However insignificant these things seemed, they were unique to me which is exactly why Andrew’s music is so important. Several Songs About Fire was never about reinventing the wheel but more about a unique perspective and personality using the bread and butter of what makes a great song. 

I beg of you please listen to Several Songs About Fire and after you’ve realized it’s your favorite album ever I’d give his debut album Thawing Dawn a listen. For more political indie rock stuff I’d listen to Parquet Court’s Wide Awake and if you like it even punkier, try Light Up Gold. 

You’re welcome!

Mead Gill

[vanillann]

five star conversation (r.p)

a/n: i’m going to cry, i can’t believe this is the last part of my favorite mini series:(

word count:

5 star conversation masterlist

place four: a 1 star gig

Flynn was always on top of things, she always was, but when she wasn’t you didn’t want to be lodged on a tour bus with her. She had already tried to throw her phone out the window, thank God Alex was looking for his hat and he caught it.

“They canceled our reservation! That must be illegal!”

I curled closer to Julie on her bed, letting my head rest on her shoulder every time Flynn let out a line of words. Reggie had a small panic attack with the yelling and Flynn tried to apologize but he didn’t blame, he was just as mad. So now the boy walked around the gas station we had stopped at and Julie and I let Flynn rant to us, she deserved it.

“Maybe another venue will host us,” Julie spoke up when Flynn didn’t yell again, her feet had finally stopped leaving marks in the carpet from pacing.

“I’ve already called two and they said their full, which had to be a lie, and plus how do we get the word out to the fans!” Flynn reached down and grabbed my knee, looking at me with sad eyes.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, waving it in the air while I sat up.

“I can always do a live and explain everything, why don’t you get some air,” I rubbed her shoulder, hoping she would take my advice, She had always given Reggie and Alex a heart attack and maybe going to the little nature walk across the street would be good, she could throw some rocks at some trees.

“I’ll get some air, yeah okay.”

She hurried off the bus, most likely to throw or kick rocks around the parking lot as Flynn never liked nature trails, it was nice to dream. If she dented this bus, we’ll be in debt.

“I can’t believe the venue canceled, it was our last gig on tour too!” Julie stood, looking down as I laid on her bunk and played with my phone in between my fingers.

I didn’t have to heart to tell the fans that we didn’t have a venue, that we wouldn’t have a final gig that was supposed to help release the new album coming out in five months.

It might have seemed small, we were blessed we even had this opportunity but it doesn’t change the fact that the one we're most excited for now was not happening.

“I’m going to find the boys, you coming?”

I closed my eyes, the boys. Everything they worked for was now becoming a nightmare, their idea of the perfect tour was ruined with falling through plans and missed opportunities.

“No, I need to go live and get the word out anyways,” I brushed off Julie, I didn’t have the heart to look any of them in the eye and tell them. To break their heart like everyone else in their life has, I just couldn’t do it. Julie waved behind her, I waited until the bus door shut before I let my head rollback.

I looked up at the bunk above me, Flynn’s, and let my mind wander over the past few months. They were perfect. Watching the fan scream their name for hours and they showed them in their element. The pictures that have been taken, many saved in my phone of the people I would always turn to. The edits that have been made have made me laugh harder than I imagined. Before this tour, nobody knew me, not that I ever cared, but I was behind the scenes. Now, the fans want me on the stage even if I don’t contribute to the music.

The music, the music had been show-stopping. Luke has been through four journals the past few months, writing back fast food drive in’s and doing stupid things with friends, that how the new album was coming out so fast. They were all so excited, Reggie was so excited to have one of his own songs featured as a single.

Reggie.

I let my hand run over my face, feeling the embarrassment from the incident at the fair. Watching his face move closer to mine, like a slow-motion picture and then ripped away when it was ripped in half. I took a minute and tried turning it into a moment, but it was never our moment. All the giggles and inside jokes hurt my chest and I thought back to the more recent time of the tour.

The motel, the way the light shines across his face and we wondered would the world cave in around. The feeling of his hand gripping my shirt because he always felt he had to be touching someone, he said it reminds him not to act so dead.

The diner when he gave me sweet little comments and took my fork from my lips. When we laughed about food poisoning and wondered would we ever be the same people after he played with my finger from across the table.

The fair where I gave him his first horse, then named it after an artist I introduced to him too. The way the wind passed his hair like he was made to run away from the world that had disappointed him more than once.

Every one-star establishment that made me believe could kiss my butt because now we had nothing. I didn’t need any more one-star buildings and places in my life. They’re just cheap and used for people who have no other options.

I sat up quickly, so quickly my head hit Flynn bunk.

No other options and cheap, exactly what someone in our situation could use right now. I let my phone spin between my fingers, unlocking it quickly before finding my search bar. We sat in the center of California, there had to be a one-star building somewhere near, one that we could turn into a dive bar or something. I smiled when a cheap bar popped up first, the area large enough to hold people and a small stage the band could work with.

Larry’s Bar was suddenly open for business. I dialed the number quickly, praying for the first time in a week something would go my way.

“L-larry’s Bar,” the woman sounded out of breath but I couldn’t care.

“Can we rent out your bar for a band?”

“Huh?”

“We need a venue for a band performance,” I realized why Flynn handled this and not me, this was out of my comfort zone.

“Are you sure you have-”

“Incredibly sure, yes or no?”

The line went silent, for a minute I thought she hung up on me and I considered crying with Reggie’s stuffed horse for a minute.

“The bar’s yours,” the lady's voice sounds light suddenly like we finally both got some good news. She definitely made my week without knowing.

“We’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” I didn’t wait for a response, rushing out of the tour bus to find someone. When I spotted everyone leaning against an ice machine outside the gas station with sad faces, my legs couldn’t stop me from rushing. I was happy Fylnn already kicked all the rock because otherwise, I would have felt.

“Guys!”

“Hey,” Alex's voice was sad and sincere, about to place a hand on my shoulder but I was bouncing on my toes.

“Whip off your sad faces, I got us a gig!”

*

“Just got off live, the fans are going to spread the information,” I yelled throughout the bar, and Luke and Jessie, the lady from the phone, moved the last few tables around the bar to make more room. Reggie and Alex did a quick soundcheck, we were currently renting amps and such from across the street since the owner's daughter was apparently a “Luke Girl”.

“Thank God, I would hope we don’t do all this work for nobody to show up” Alex called back as he did the classic comedy drum sound, giving a smile as he grabbed the extra drumstick from his back pocket.

I rolled my eyes, hopping off the stage to the small table at the door for Flynn and me to sit at for tickets and shirts, CD including, and a special code for the single Reggie was presenting tonight.

Luke and he had been fighting over it for ten minutes because Reggie changed the one he wanted to release last minute, it must have been good if Luke was letting him get away with it.

“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Flynn sat in her seat with her arms crossed, people would be arriving as soon as possible and we were prepared for anything.

“What can I say,” I smiled brightly, taking the seat beside her.

“What made you think of this?”

I wanted to say, Reggie, that he almost always somehow inspired my best ideas but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Almost everyone knew of the almost kiss and how awkward things have been between us, so awkward I couldn’t say his name.

“Just about what happened at the motel, how we had to make it work.”

It wasn't a lie, that was for sure.

“Well, you saved the tour,” Flynn leaned over and squeezed my shoulders, her bucket hat titled as it smashed against my face. I hugged her back, smiling into her shoulder, I saved the tour.

*

The crowd screamed as the band finished off “Bright”, sweat dripping down them as they gave wide gestures.

“Thank you! Now it’s surprise time!” Julie passed the microphone to Luke, who looked so excited for his next set of words.

“The rumors about the new album are true,” he let the mic drop until the screams died down, “and we are here to show one of the singles for the said album that will drop on March 3rd at midnight!”

The crowd went crazy again and I laughed against Flynn, we both decided to stay in our chairs for the performance as we had an amazing view and we didn’t want to push through everyone. I was scared that everyone would see the one-star and turn the other way but every ticket that was bought came.

Reggie smiled as he took the stage, his bass switched for an acoustic, which confused me but I didn’t think much about it, I knew he liked to mess with it sometimes.

“Hi everybody!”

Reggie gave a peace sign to the crowd, the few girls who wore Reggie’s face on their shirt screamed at the top of their lungs.

“This is a song I wrote a few weeks ago on tour called “Five Star conversation.”

I looked over my shoulder at Flynn, her eyes wide as she watched Reggie get situated on his stool in front of the mic.

“What song is this?”

“Uhm, this one?”

All she did was point and I decided to go back and watch him play. I could always ask later, I’d have to make merch with it anyways.

“Dingy bathrooms and motel floors, I’d never wanted you more than right now,” Reggie's voice came out rough as his voice played with the melody just right. His finger-picked at the string and I was shocked by the slow melody. This definitely wasn’t a song I’d heard.

“The city lights across your face, I swear you fell from grace. The world around me seemed to disappear the second you spoke,” that when it happened, the moment he turned his head. He looked in my eye, the words rooting themselves in my chest, tattooed across my heart.

“Our five-star conversations were softer than the pillows beneath me, I wish you could have really seen me.”

I felt myself chew on my bottom lip, feeling my eyes turn to me as his attention never left my face. He was watching me, the same way he had in every other one-star establishment, but this felt different.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know the five-star conversation I had with your soul.” The medley rang out, Julie’s soft humming joined in behind and I wondered how anyone could focus.

How could anyone think straight when someone was looking so adoring under the flashing light of a cheap bar that smelt like feet?

How could I pay attention while he looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky when he hung the moon?

“Crappy food and screaming doors, I wonder if you knew of your own grace!” His word rang back in my eye, like a bug that wouldn’t quite go away, not that I would ever want this to stop.

But it had to stop because I was suddenly the center of attention and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn't know the world more than I did. But I was rooted in place watching the boy I had fallen so hard for a look at me with his puppy eyes and wonder where we would stand after this.

“Don’t let me lose our five-star conversation in a one-star world after all,” he strummed the last bit of the song, I barely processed half the word before I let my legs go. I was walking somewhere, wherever my feet would allow me to go. I was outside, the brick wall of the bar brought me back to reality.

The same reality where I didn’t think boys wrote songs that sweet and they didn’t look at you like that. They didn’t look at you like you spun gold strings and gave them pretty smiles, but he did.

He always did, he always looked at me like I belonged next to him saving tours and making horrible plans. He looked at me like I could be his muse for the rest of his life, of death is more appropriate. He looked at me as if I was more than his because I wasn’t his, I was myself and that’s all he wanted.

He was in love with me, the same person from the motel, the same person for the diner, the same person from the fair.

I was the five-star person in the world star world, I was the extra star he was always looking for.

“(Y/N)!”

As soon as I watched his body slide out the door of the bar, I walked to him. I didn’t realize how far I walked until he started rambling.

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot but I couldn’t stop-”

My hand gripped the thin jacket material, not thinking twice and my lips smashed against his with force. He fell back slightly, his hand grabbing my wrist for a second before he was running them over my shoulder and down to my elbows. He pulled me closer if that was possible, and I let my hand touch over his heart.

The heart that wanted me, Reggie wanted me. There were girls who would wear his face on a shirt and he wanted the person that made those shirts.

I was his five stars, even if I loved him in every one-star and three-star establishment.

I felt myself pull away, our forehead resting on one another and I took a shaky breath.

“I’d give that kiss two stars.”

He smiled down at me, raising his eyebrows and letting his tongue run over the side of his cheek with a smirk.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll make it five stars.”

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[chocolatecarstairs]

julie and the phantoms: holiday special!!!

halloween:

julie begs the boys not to do anything stupid before they’re set to play her school’s halloween party but of course they don’t listen

they go hard haunting bobby and carrie (originally it was just supposed to be bobby but carrie was right there and luke has never liked the way she treats julie), they help carlos egg the house of a bully at his school, and they spend a ridiculous amount of time ding-dong-ditching people and stealing candy they can’t eat

for their set alex dresses as a ghost because he loves the irony. reggie goes as han solo (OUT OF RESPECT, LUKE, RESPECT FOR THE DEAD. reggie, man, we’re dead.) luke goes as KISS, which weirds out half of julie’s school but they don’t ask many questions, they just figure it’s a swedish thing. julie and flynn pair up to go as an angel and a devil (flynn is the devil, julie is the angel), carrie is a space cowgirl ofc, and nick’s costume has something to do with a fedora ??? but nobody is really sure what he is

the band does a sick cover of the monster mash and the boys spend the rest of the party pranking half of julie’s school while they’re invisible

afterwards, julie and the boys have a movie marathon in the garage. alex begs for a horror movie so they watch the exorcist. or at least, the first twenty minutes of the exorcist. luke can barely look past julie’s shoulder and reggie’s whimpers become too annoying. instead, they watch hocus pocus (the boys remember seeing it in theaters together when it first came out) and then marathon all the halloweentown movies, luke’s newest post-death obsession. julie has to try her hardest not to eat all of the candy the boys stole, even though the assured her they were fine with it 

luke and reggie are still giant babies about the exorcist, so they get to sleep in the middle while julie and alex get the outside of the blanket/sleeping bag/pillow fort they’ve set up. reggie cuddles up between alex and luke while luke falls asleep with his head in julie’s shoulder.

thanksgiving:

the boys aren’t the most thrilled about this holiday. they can’t eat and it was always so family-oriented, but julie is determined to make it as fun as she can for them. she sneaks around the week before, trying to casually interrogate the guys about each of the others favorite thanksgiving traditions

reggie and his dad used to watch the football game together every year, so julie makes sure there is a spot open on the couch next to ray as gets the tv on

she lights a cinnamon bun candle in the living room and watches the macy’s thanksgiving day parade with alex, because his mom used to make cinnamon buns for him and his sisters when they watched it together every thanksgiving morning

she gets the guys together in the backyard after her dad and carlos fall asleep to play a game of touch football, just like luke used to do with all of his cousins at his grandparents house every year

they make little hand turkeys in the studio like julie and carlos used to do with their mom and hang them up amongst all the others

they sit up late in their remade pillow fort, talking about what they’re thankful for

luke’s is the ability to perform again and julie bringing them back for a second chance

reggie’s is hanging out with ray and finally getting to catch up on star wars (even though they killed han solo)

alex’s is coming back to “life” to find people who love him for who he is and who accept his sexuality without hesitation

julie’s is that her mom brought these dorky guys into her life, giving her a new family and the ability to play music again

they all fall asleep in their fort, curled up on blankets and pillows, talking about their favorite thanksgiving foods

christmas/hanukkah:

reggie is jewish, so julie enlists flynn’s help to set up a menorah in the garage and to properly teach her about the traditions. 

reggie teaches the band the history behind the holiday and even a little hebrew as the light the candles each night.

he visits his brother and watches his nephews open their presents and play together.

it takes a few days of luke’s bad mood for julie to realize that he spent his last christmas - the last one he was alive - alone in her garage, so she’s determined to make his first one as a ghost as special as possible.

she enlists alex’s help and gets him to poof into luke’s parents house to swipe a few of his favorite ornaments from the tree to surprise him with

she strings popcorn and cranberries and gets the guys together to decorate a christmas tree in the studio, they pile it high with tinsel and homemade ornaments and alex even poofs into his parents garage to grab his old gold star to top the tree with

decorating quickly devolves into them throwing the extra popcorn at each other and julie is pissed that it hits her but goes through the guys like nothing. if she can touch them, whatever she’s throwing should be able to too

she plays christmas carols in the studio 24/7. alex complains LOUDLY and reggie sings along to every single song. luke likes to pretend he’s too cool for carols (they’re not rock, julie) but she catches him humming frosty the snowman or deck the halls whenever he think nobody is paying attention

the band decides to exchange homemade gifts (julie isn’t entirely sure how to ask her dad for the money to buy gifts for her three ghost friends and in alex’s own words “we died eating street dogs out of the back of a car julie, we’re broke. and it’s not like we can just waltz into a store and pick you out a perfume anyways. we’re invisible.”)

luke writes julie a song, he finally learns the chords to home is where my horse is for reggie, and he tie-dyes alex a new tshirt

alex enlists julie’s help (which eventually turns into julie enlisting her dad’s help) to make a cassette of their songs for luke’s walkman. he borrows flynn’s cricut to make reggie a “han solo lives on” tshirt. and he gives julie a pair of vintage sneakers he snags from his parents garage. something his older sister had saved up for MONTHS to buy back in ‘89 

reggie makes alex some homemade pins for his fanny pack. he gives julie some homemade stickers to decorate her mic and her keyboard with. and he spends some serious time doodling sunset curve/phantom drawings onto an old guitar strap for luke

julie digs through her moms chest to find more sunset curve merch and uploads their songs to spotify from their cd. she writes a duet that she gifts to luke (though since it was written for both of them, she isn’t sure it counts as a gift, even though his face lights up when he reads it.) she gives alex one of her dads vintage bomber jackets, which she spent an afternoon pressing the band’s logo onto the back of with the help of flynn’s cricut. she sets up a movie night for reggie, where they watch every star wars movie ever made and she lets him cry as long as he wants over how terrible han solo’s death it and the travesty that is jar jar’s character 

they spend new years at the beach, cozied up on blankets near the water, strumming guitars and playing music just enough for the boys to be visible occasionally. they watch the firework show happening over the pier and spend hours talking about their hopes for world tours and record deals. they’re happy. they’re together.

[fairymadnessyeah]

BNHA Ship to Finish the Year

KotEri (Izumi Kota x Eri Aizawa)

Canon

I like to think that Kota and Eri meet during October. Eri never went trick or treating, and since Kota is a kid her age and Ragdoll is available for taking the door to door, Shota deems it okay.

They met before Halloween night, and it goes okay. Mostly they talk about costumes.

They dress up as LeMillion and Deku. Ragdoll sends a lot of pictures, It's too cute.

From there on out, the two are inseparable. I feel like Kota would be Eri's first friends, and he teaches her the beauty of pranks. Once, they put cooking oil on the floor and watched as Iida went flying into the TV. There is a no running rule now.

I don't think they would go to school together until they go to UA. 

I feel like until then Kota only sees her as a friend until they start high school. Suddenly, the guys of class 1a are talking about who the cutest girl and they all think it's Eri.

He knows he shouldn't, but he is mad about it... Oh no!

I feel that for Eri, it happens later and more slowly. She knows she can trust Kota. Whenever she has a problem or needs someone to talk to, she knows she can trust in him.

By the second year, when I imagine he suddenly hits a growth spurt and enters his emo phase, she realizes he is handsome. 

The two don't say anything until they go to a hero-convention (Deku Merch!) and one of the ex-Hassaikai attacks as a villain and recognizes Eri.

Kota helps her by taking her around the city, and when they get to a Sakura tree, Eri leans in and kisses him. He obviously returns it, and they start dating.

They keep it a secret for as long as they can, since Aizawa is the principal and very protective of his daughter. However, once he finds out, his trust in Kota is completely broken. He is not welcome in their home anymore.

However, Shinsou is weaker against Eri's puppy eyes.

I don't know why, but I would love a fic about them like this:

"Hey Izu-kun, you know how to drive right? And your aunt's and uncle let you take their car whenever?"

"Yeah, why?" "I need you to drive me somewhere?" "Sure, where?" "Tartarous," "... alright."

"So, why am I driving you to Tartarous?" "Oh, I want to talk with Chisaki," "*stops abruptly* WHAT!? You want to talk with the man that tortured you since you can remember and made your life a living hell!? WHY!?!?"

"I need closure. I know I might never be able to forget him and what he did, but I can't freeze every time somebody mentions him. I need to do this, I need to move on,"

He goes with her, as moral support. It kind of helps seeing him armless, behind bars and defeated, but Eri simply tells him she is moving on with her life and he should too.

After it, they go for ice-cream and a walk in the beach (I like to think this is a favourite date for them). I think it's a very romantic moment until Shinsou interrupt them.

Her family was made aware that she visited Chisaki and have been looking for her like crazy.

Family

Aizawa is not happy when he finds out. This is what happens:

*Eri comes in with Kota. The two have smoothies, Kota a blue one and Eri a red one* "Hi dad! We are going to be in my room studying! Don't interrupt us!" "Alright!"

*An hour later* "Eri, Mic is going to be home in a few minutes, we'll have dinner when he arrives. Is Kota staying?" "No, his aunt is picking him up in a bit," "...Why is your tongue purple?" "Oh... um... maybe it was the smoothie," "You had a red smoothie... and Kota had a blue... one..." 

*He realizes what happened and starts stomping up the stair, Eri behind him, telling him to calm down. He slams the door open and sees Kota, with his hair messed and his lips covered in lip gloss, throwing himself off the window.* "Come here, you traitor!"

Aizawa calls a family meeting, and even Shinsou who has his own home has to come. He is ready to expel him, he feels betrayed. He trusted that kid in his home, and he takes advantage of his daughter? I don't think so! He is going to die.

Hizashi cries, his baby girl is replacing him. (I headcanon that she would die her hair to look like a rainbow, and Kota helps her, instead of Hizashi)

Shinsou is the one who sides with Eri, reminding his parents that she is old enough to make a decision like this, and they should trust her. "Besides, I was her age when Kaminari and I started doing stuff," "What?" "What?" "I don't live here anymore, I don't have to keep secrets,"

Shinsou lets her come to his home to get ready for her dates, so that Koda doesn't have to fear for his life in their living room. However, he still threatens him.

"For some reason, you make Eri happy. But if that changes, and you make her sad, you are going to wish, Midoriya never saved you from Muscular," "H-how do you know that?" "I know everything. Have fun on your date!"

The WWP are embarrassing. They have a photo album ready, they tell Eri how much he talks about her.

They also have an open-door policy, but Koda is a rebel and doesn't follow the rule. However, they found a way around it.

*comes in without knocking* "Hey kiddos, want some cookies?" "No, Aunt. We are fine," "Alright, just keep the door open!"

*comes in without knocking* "Hey lovebirds, are you thirsty? I made some lemonade!" "We are fine, Pixie-bob," "Alright, just keep the door open!"

*comes in without knocking* "Have you seen the cat?" "We don't have a cat, Ragdoll!" "Oh, right! Keep the door open!"

But when he locks the door:

*BANG!* "Aaaaahhhh!" "Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" "Tiger! Did you just kick the door open!?" "Yes! Remember to keep the door open!"

Also, when they found out, the WWD follows them on their date. They need pictures.

The problem is that Kota and Eri are not on a date. They are helping Katsumo give a tour of the city to his sister. They all notice the four pros following them, Kota tells them to ignore them.

I feel like Deku would be happy for them. His first fans are so cute together. 

AU - Band AU

This is a modern setting au.

So, Eri was adopted into music. After she was rescued from Chisaki, she was adopted by Present Mic and his husband, Aizawa.

Present Mic is a famous radio host, and before that, he and Aizawa and Oboro played in a band together. Now, Aizawa is a music manager for young artist, in between those there is 1A band.

As she grows up, she is introduced to music, and it becomes one of the best things in her life. She is a great singer, and she also learns how to play the piano.

She want to have a career in music, so when she is a teen, at UA school, she joins the music club.

She is trying to form a band, and along the way she finds Katsuma, who becomes the bassist, Tamashiro on the drums, and they only need a guitarist and vocalist.

Enter Bad boy Kota. His parents were musicians that died in a boat accident, and so Kota now lives his aunt and their dancing group, The Wild Wild Pussycats.

He used to love music, but now it's only a reminder of who he lost.

But one day, Eri hears him sing. She asks if he would want to join their band. He refuses and leaves, but that is not the last he sees of Eri.

The two are paired for some school work, and while working on it, Eri starts singing, and it wakes something in him.

Kota doesn't know what it was, but suddenly, he felt as if he was with his parents again.

He tells her that he'll join her band temporarily, at least so he has enough time to figure out what was that feeling.

They are all ecstatic, and they start playing together.

Eri and Kota are the ones who most clash since he is really into rock and edgy stuff, and she is more cute and pop style.

However, the two spend a lot of time together.

Kota wants to understand how Eri makes him feel stuff, and Eri doesn't really mind his company, so she lets him stay. She was always very shy, so it's hard for her to make friends without recurring to music.

At some point, Eri tells Kota about her life as Chisaki's toy, and it makes him realize why Eri is so special.

She is real, she suffered and survived, and now she can keep smiling. Which Kota never got to, he never moved on from his parents death, and still hold on to the rage and sadness.

Kota also opens up to Eri, and he tells her about his parents death and his departure from music.

Eri asks him to sing with her, and when they do, Kota feels like he has his parents back. It brings him to tears, but Eri hold him.

The band present themselves to the talent show of the school and somehow end up winning. 

During the celebration party, Kota and Eri kiss.

Fanon Opinion

I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable writing NSFW stuff about Kota or Eri.

I know that I age up everybody, and I did so with these two, too, but I can't.

I can't picture them as nothing, but children and I am not going to write PWP about that. 

I don't they would do it until their third year, but I do think that they make out.

I think this is a very cute couple. They have that puppy-love thing going for them. 

Also, I love this because it would be a good thing for Eri. We just want good things for Eri.

And I know that Eri is older than Kota, and supposedly she should be his senpai. But with all the emotional baggage she has, I think it makes sense that she would start school a little later.

I think that they would be a beach and parks couple. In summer, they go to the beach, while in the winter they hang around the park.

I feel like they would love to go camping.

Also, they match. They are horn buddies.

Also, Tik-Tok has a lot of stuff about them, so I recommend seeing them. I got the Band AU idea from it.

I imagine that they would become heroes when they are older. Eri would be like a new recovery girl, but scarier, and Kota would torture the children when they go to the training camp.

In my mind, Eri uses Aizawa's capture weapon, but she has it wrapped around her arms, covering her scars.

Also, while they are at the dorms, they are the Parent Couple. The two take care of their classmates with Kota stopping them from doing stupid shit and lecturing them, and Eri comforting them and healing their bruises.

Also, if Katsuma goes with them to class, he would be the baby.

"Oh, No! This is Bad! This is Bad! Stress is bad for the baby!"

"What baby?"

"ME! I'm the baby!"

[xplrvibes]

A Small Gift

A.N. Hello! I, once again, cannot figure out the read more option, so I apologize for that. Hope you like it!

submitted by @kraken45

(xplrvibes note: omg, this is amazing!  I love this so so much and it just really put a smile on my face and actually made me feel so much better!  it really hit the spot!  the characterization of both boys and their relationship, and Jake’s relationships with them as well, was so perfect! (special shout out for throwing cryptocurrency in there lol)  anyway, everyone read this and give @kraken45 all the kudos! thank you so so so much and ily you for this!)

Colby had just had a really fucking bad day. A bad week, honestly. He couldn’t really pinpoint why. Couldn’t pinpoint when the bad started and when he’d gotten so grumpy. It seemed to kind of melt into his natural state of being this week. And here he is. He’s been sitting in bed for the past three hours, desperately trying to work up the motivation to do anything. He already felt like a failure. He’d slept through his own merch drop, which he had been really excited for. The merch was sick and it was a drop he was really proud of, but he could not get himself to care. He was scaring himself. Why was his mind doing this to him? He was on track to have the best year of his life. Why did he feel like absolute shit for literally no reason? 

He wasn’t the only one to notice either. Jake had promptly told him to “fuck off until he got his head out of his ass” when he’d snapped yesterday. To be fair, he had deserved it. He was being short with the people who didn’t do anything wrong other than exist in the same space as him. That’s why he was holing up at the moment. He didn’t want to snap again. The last thing he wanted was to bother people and bring them down with him. His friends were too good for that. He, however, probably deserved this. He was sure he had done something wrong at some point in time and this was karma coming back to bite him in the ass. Honestly, it very well could have been karma from the killing best friend prank video again. While he and Sam had agreed on it, he had no idea how badly Sam would be affected. He had felt horrible ever since. 

Stop it. He thought to himself. I cannot go down this again. 

Whenever he was alone, he had a tendency to fall into a pit of self-deprecation that took days to climb out of. He would sit and stew and go over the things he’d done wrong in his life and just beat the proverbial shit out of himself until something shook him out of it. That something was usually Sam, but he was away with Kat this weekend. Which, good. Sam and Kat needed an awesome weekend away. There should be nothing stopping them. Colby refused to allow himself to be that thing. Ever, for anyone. Colby needed to learn to be able to pick himself up. He was in his mid-20’s. He should be better than this. Sam wasn’t his mom, and damn it, his mom shouldn’t even be responsible for this. He should be able to be an adult without someone forcing him to be. He felt useless. He felt dependent. He felt alone. How does one feel dependent and alone at the same time? Don’t ask Colby. That’s a fact he can’t figure out either, but it’s how he feels. 

Wringing his fingers together in a nervous tick, he decides to text Jake and apologize for snapping. He really didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It just seemed like he managed to, no matter the circumstance. No wonder he went up in his room all the time. He knew most of the people in his life just tolerated him. They weren’t affected in the slightest whenever he would leave, and he knew that. That’s why he always did. He needed to be alone and no one wanted to be around him, so he left. 

Colby sighs loudly and sinks farther down into his sheets. He closed his eyes and willed himself to find motivation. He’d already let Sam and the label down once today, he needed to not do it again. He willed his legs to move. They didn’t. He willed any feeling that wasn’t this drowning sensation. He pressed his hands against his eyes, hoping the metal chill of his rings would make him feel. It didn’t. All it did was frustrate him. He wanted to cry, but he knew he wouldn’t. Tears never came when he needed them to. He just laid there, stuck in the never-ending spiral of attempting to force a feeling until he got angry he wasn’t feeling it until a series of dings rang through on his phone. 

He sighed again. Just as he’d expected, his manager was ripping into him for not being on time for his merch drop. She said the expected, but then dropped a bombshell at the end and called him unreliable. That stung. He’d always prided himself on being the one to always come through for people. His friends could count on him to hype them up and support them, through thick and thin. He was a rock. He was reliable. Apparently not. He typed out an apology, though he was having a hard time getting his hands to cooperate with his brain. He wanted to tell her he knew. She should just represent Sam and convince him to go solo. He knew he was holding him back. Life would be so much better, for everyone, if he could either get his shit together or get out of the way. His hands trembled as he typed and deleted and retyped and finally just settled on “I’m sorry.” 

She wasn’t going to like that, he was well aware, but there was nothing else he could do. She wasn’t there to listen to his sob story of how he couldn’t get his brain to understand how fucking priviledged he was. She was there to help him sell merch and he was supposed to announce it. He didn’t do it. Well, technically, he did do it, but not the right way. None of the fans cared. He’d been promoting all week and they knew the second Sam dropped something, he would too. But that didn’t make him feel any better. It was just another example of how he relied on Sam to carry him through. Maybe he was unreliable, but Sam made him think he was. 

He really was lucky. Sam was everything he wasn’t, and better at the things he was. Sam was smart, Colby was not. Sam was quick-witted, Colby was not. Sam could maintain a healthy relationship, Colby could not. Any amount of kindness or comedic ability or anything like that Colby had, Sam had it too. Colby could not understand why Sam wanted him around some days. He knew Sam wouldn’t be where he was without Colby, but now that he was here, Colby wondered how much more Sam could do on his own. He wouldn’t have to drag Colby around all of the time and hold him accountable. 

Any other day, Colby would know all of these thoughts were absolute bullshit. He and Sam were friends and that’s what made their content connect with people. Their bond was evident and was in no way one-sided, Sam had told him that plenty of times. There were ample videos on Sam’s personal channel that stated this as fact. Logically, Colby knew that. That didn’t stop these intrusive thoughts from pushing him farther into his sheets.

He felt like he was at war with his own head and he could only play defense. Any sound or word said to him was a hit for the offense and there was nothing he could do about it. Which is why that would be the exact moment two separate texts would ping across his phone screen at the same time. One was from Jake and the other from Sam. Great. Two people he absolutely did not want to interact with right now. He could not handle one more passive-aggressive message that was likely in Jake’s text or expression of disappointment that was likely in Sam’s because the damn offense didn’t need any more ammunition. He gave them enough as it was, so he did the only logical thing and tossed his phone to the other side of his bed and put his pillow over his head. 

Exhaustion rammed into him like a train. He felt stupid, once again, as he had done literally nothing all day. There was no reason to be tired. But, fighting crusade against one’s own amygdala can take it out of someone, so he decided to cut himself some slack and go back to sleep. 

About two hours had passed, which Colby had spent in a restless, anxiety-ridden half-sleep where any slight change in temperature would force him to either curl up or chuck the sheets in a haphazard fashion. He had just reentered his lucid state when a blaring ring brought him fully back into reality. He audibly groaned into his pillow and reached for the phone. His ecstasy in receiving yet another phone call about his missed drop from management was understandably low at best, but he looked at his phone and was surprised to see Sam’s name and picture displayed instead, indicating he wanted to FaceTime. Colby weighed his options. He, in no way, wanted to see Sam right now. Or rather, he didn’t want Sam to see him. Sam knew his habits and these days spent in the anxiety cavern weren’t new, so he would know something was up. On the other hand, if Colby didn’t answer, he would know Colby was either hiding something or sleeping…

Colby hoped he would think he was sleeping as he let the call time out. He felt bad for ignoring Sam, but he’d rather ignore him than worry him while he was out with his girlfriend for some much deserved alone time. Colby wondered what he wanted.

Well, dumbass, if you would have answered you would know. His inner voices were bullying him again. Colby just shook his head and shoved it back between his pillows. He sat there for about ten minutes or so, pressing the fabric into his head, willing himself to go back to sleep so he didn’t have to deal with this reality until that obnoxious ringing shrieked out again. 

“What the fuck?” Colby asked out loud, refusing to look at the phone’s image and declining. He was in even worse shape than a few minutes ago, somehow, and he was not in the mood to talk to anyone. Sam never called twice, so Colby wasn’t concerned it was him and anyone else was not on his priority list at the moment. He went one step further and turned the phone off. Any conversation anyone was going to have with him right now would be unproductive, so he refused to have any. Colby decided sleeping obviously wasn’t working, so he sat up to make a move for the shower. 

He stretched his stiff limbs and slowly rose, his back cracking with every inch higher he stood. Damn, he felt old. He slowly made his way to his dresser and decided old XPLR joggers and a hoodie was good enough. It took an unprecedented amount of time to get those things out of the drawer. Colby felt like he was wading through molasses and any form of movement was met with some invisible resistance that he couldn’t seem to break. In no world should someone as healthy as him get winded from picking out clothes, but that’s what happened. 

Fuck, I need to go outside. He thought to himself. This room could not be helping his mental state, so a walk was the only form of action he could think to take. 

After my shower. He thought again. His actions were interrupted by a small sound on the other side of his room. His head whipped around far too quickly for someone who had no water in their system, and as his eyes refocused and reoriented, he wondered if he’d even actually heard the sound at all. It was so small and tentative he thought he’d made it up. He didn’t hear anything for a solid ten seconds, so he made his way into his bathroom to gather the things he needed to shower. He closed his bathroom door slightly behind him and started looking for his shampoo. His other bottle had just run out, so his head was under the sink when he swore he heard another sound out in his main room. He stopped moving again, listening. There was silence again. Colby swore he was going crazy. He then heard what he recognized as knocking become more frantic as Jake called his name and tried to open his door. He must’ve forgotten to lock it because two seconds later, Jake was bounding into the room at the same time Colby was reentering and they nearly collided. 

“What the fuck, Colby? Are you okay?’ Jake asked, concerned, grabbing Colby’s shoulders and shifting him around to get a good look at Colby’s face.

“Yeah…? Why wouldn’t I be?” Colby questioned back, genuinely confused. Jake gave him a hard look. 

“Why haven’t you come out at all today? Why have you been ignoring calls and texts and shit? You’ve been acting weird all week.” Jake shook Colby lightly, trying to force him to look him in the face. Colby turned his head to the side instead. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I… I don’t really know what’s going on. I’ve felt fucking weird all week, but it’s just been bad the past two days. I felt bad for yelling at you yesterday, so I figured it’d be better if I just stayed away until I figured out what my problem was. I haven’t been able to do that, yet.” Colby chuckled dryly, Jake obviously finding no humor in the words. Jake still didn’t let Colby’s  shoulders go, opting to squeeze them tight instead.

“Brother, you’re all good. We all act up sometimes. I said that in the text you didn’t read,” Colby turned away, embarrassed. Jake shook him again, a sign to look up. Colby did this time. 

“Listen, dude, we’ve all got shit days. We just wanted to make sure there was nothing immediately wrong.”

“We?” Colby asked. Jake rolled his eyes, moving his hands to Colby’s upper arms.

“Sam called me panicking for the last five minutes. He noticed you promoted the merch late and then dropped off Earth for several hours and didn’t answer when he called like four times and was declined three times. And when I told him you weren’t answering me either, he thought you’d had a heart attack or some shit. I told him like 12 times you were fine, but you know how fucking momma bear he gets over you.” Colby cringed slightly. In trying to avoid causing Sam stress, he’d accidentally caused him a hell of a lot more. Colby did know about the random protective hair Sam had for him, he just tended to forget about it as Sam was more aloof than Colby was. Colby was very upfront about his emotions and it’s never been hard to know what he’s feeling, but Sam had always been more neutral. He hid his true feelings well from everyone else, but Colby knew his ticks. 

For example, Colby knew when Sam’s left hand was on his hip and he was leaning on something with his right, he was pissed, even if his voice was level. He knew that a glance to the left at some dude making eyes at Kat was pure jealousy, even with a smile on his face. He knew that if Sam grazed his hand lightly on Colby’s shoulder after he’d just done something dangerous, it meant to never do that shit again, even if he was laughing. Sam was often subtle in his displays of emotion, but that didn’t make those feelings any less real. Which is why Sam actually making Jake go check on him was more concerning. He must’ve really freaked him out. Colby should have known. 

“Damn it. I was trying to do the exact opposite.” Jake tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, nodding lightly.

“I know, but that shit didn’t work. Call him real quick and tell him your heart’s still pumping. He’ll chill once he knows you’re not dead or actively dying. Then shower because you smell like shit and then play smash with me. I’ve wanted to play all day but you’ve been busy making yourself into soup apparently. Then if you’re lucky, that’s not the only smashing you’ll get tonight.” Jake winked and smacked his ass lightly as he ran out of Colby’s door. Colby cringed and laughed, forever amused by his friend’s ability to make anything sexual. 

Colby lifted his arm and sniffed, wondering if it was really that bad. The room instantly spinning was a good enough answer. He made his way into his room and switched his phone on, dreading the texts and calls he’d receive once it came back on. Sure enough, there were 3 unread messages and three missed calls from Sam. He quickly went to the messages and sent Sam a quick explanation of what happened. Well, he basically said he’d been sleepy all day and turned the phone off in an attempt to go back to sleep, which wasn’t untrue, but not the full truth either. He just wanted Sam to forget about him for the weekend and have fun. Sam did not take the bait. 

“Alright sure,” Sam’s reply read, “you can say that. Listen, brother, I know you’ve been in a weird funk the past few days. That’s why I got so worried when you didn’t answer. I know nothing was happening, really, but you’ve probably been stuck in your own head all week. I fucking hate when you get stuck there and try and get out alone. You’re a strong person, but you can only see things the way your brain will let you. And lemme tell you, that fucker is lying sometimes. I have no clue what’s going on up there, but lemme say this, you’re fine. People like you. People wanna help you when your days are shit. Don’t isolate yourself. Go downstairs and play smash with Jake, he’s been bitching all day. Also shower, you probably smell like ass.” 

Colby cracked a little smile at that. They really did spend too much time together. Another text came in before he could respond.

“Also I swear to God if you try to sit there and say sorry 12000 times I will knock your teeth out through this phone. Just stfu in advance. Threat stands if you ever ignore me again.” Colby laughed out loud this time, as he read over his unsent reply that started with “I’m sorry…” These two really needed to spend more time apart. Or maybe less, if today was any indication of how things would go if they were separated for more than a day. 

Colby replied, “Okay, okay, I got you. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. (Not sorry) but I’m gonna shower and kick Jake’s ass. Nothing will clear a funk quicker than that. Thanks a lot, brother. Really not sure where I’d be without you, so love and appreciate you like always. Snc v the world brother. Now ignore me for the next three days and have fun!! Seeya monday bitch!”

“Cut the mushy shit brother, I ain’t a little bitch like you. I will be happily ignoring your existence until then.” Sam replied, but quickly added “i’m just kidding ily2, please fucking text me if you need something for the love of god. Snc v tw” with a gif of a koala sending a virtual hug attached. 

Colby hearted the gif and sad reacted to the first message as he chuckled to himself and headed towards the shower. Sam knew just what to say, just like always. After he had showered, Colby went downstairs and played at least thirty more rounds of Smash than he’d intended to, and since he and Jake were him and Jake, the loser ended up doing punishments. That’s how he’d ended up with a spatula-shaped bruise on his asscheek and nearly choked to death on his water as he watched Jake Naruto-run into the Traphouse inflatable dog and fully disappear. He hadn’t felt this light all week. He felt like himself again. Thank god. Who knew all he would need is a video game and a text? The rest of the night went about as one could expect with ½ of the Trap boys getting drunk off of White Claws and wine, so one could just describe it as a night of wonderful TikTok content.

As the weekend progressed, Colby felt his motivation return. He reposted plenty of merch orders, which were not affected by his sleeping in, and got a ton of work done. He was actually neck deep in an article about cryptocurrency when Sam’s Tesla pulled into the driveway. Colby didn’t noticed as he continued to read about this strange new currency, when his door flung open and he jumped ten feet out of his chair. 

“Sam, you dick!” He shouted as Sam doubled over, laughing hysterically. “How fucking rude. I haven’t seen you for four days and the first thing you want to do is kill me?” Sam walked over to his desk, still laughing. He wiped a tear from one eye and wrapped his other arm around Colby’s shoulders, bending it and putting Colby into a weak headlock.

“Nah, brother, there are way more interesting ways if I wanted to do that.” Colby snorted, looking up at him in fake offense while trying to pull his arm down.

“I should have known all of those nice words were fake. You just wanted my guard down, you bitch.” Colby joked back as Sam tightened his arm, messing up Colby’s hair with his other hand. 

“You finally fucking caught on, good for you.” Sam patronized as Colby tried to slap his hand out of his hair when Sam suddenly stopped and wrapped both his arms around Colby’s shoulders. “Don’t ever shut me out again. I will break down those damn walls with a sledgehammer if I have to. I fucking love you brother, don’t forget that.” Sam punctuated his statement with a tight squeeze of his arms while Colby smiled wide, leaning his head into Sam’s shoulder. Colby knew his friends had him, through good days and bad. He just needed a reminder sometimes. 

“I love you too, Sam. Expect the exact same.” Colby stated, looking him in the eyes and patting his arms. Sam nodded and squeezed him one last time before letting go and ruffling Colby’s hair again with both hands, completely annihilating any styling that was left after the first assault. He turned on a heel and ran out his door.

“Sam! You ass!”

[rushingheadlong]

So I’m seeing a surprising number of people who are disappointed by the Live Album announcement, either because of the specific track list or because it’s a compilation album or because it feels like a money grab or whatever.

And people can feel however they want to about this, and no one is going to force you to buy any of the products associated with the Live Album launch... but let’s take a moment and really think about this, okay?

“Why did it have to be a compilation album? Why could it just be a recording of the Rhapsody Tour?”

Maybe Queen doesn’t have a full recording of a Rhapsody Tour show. The only clip they’ve shown with any regularity is the Fat Bottomed Girls in Dallas, which is the one being included on this album. Just because they have some video from the Rhapsody Tour doesn’t mean that they have an entire show that they’re able to release. It doesn’t seem like they recorded any of the Rhapsody Tour shows with the intention of releasing it as a live album and DVD, so they may have audio or video that just isn’t a good enough quality to put out.

Or maybe they do have that, and they’re holding off on releasing a Rhapsody Tour live album until after they complete the entire tour so they don’t spoil things for people who will be seeing them next year. There are people who are torn about buying this Live Album specifically because they’re still waiting to see Q+AL next year and they don’t want to spoil the experience. I can’t blame Brian, Roger, and Adam for not wanting to release the full Rhapsody Tour footage if they even have it. 

Personally, I like that it’s a compilation album because I like that we’re getting the full span of what Q+AL have done over the last decade or so! It’s makes for a rather nice tribute to their history together.

“Why didn’t they include ____? Why aren’t there more songs? It’s so short!”

Again, they’re probably working with whatever they have! They need not only good video of a song, but also good audio of it as well. If the only have one of those two things they can’t include it on the Live Album. 

Also in terms of length, this album has a similar number of tracks as Live Killers. Yes, it’s not a full two-hour concert and it’s shorter than releases like Live at Wembley and Rock Montreal, but it’s not an obscenely short release. The audio formats will have 20 tracks, the DVDs will have 22. That’s still a respectable length, at least IMO. 

“Why is so much of it taken up by the Fire Fight concert? We’ve seen so many of these clips before! Give us something new!”

Again, they are working with what they have! We keep seeing the same clips from them because these are the professionally-filmed clips that they have that are suitable for release.

There’s also the issue that some of the professionally-filmed material that they have, they might not be able to release. They’ve included one song from the Global Citizen Festival, but that doesn’t mean they were able to get permission to include more (depending on who owns what rights to the video content, and since Global Citizen in general is the organization who uploads those video clips to youtube I’m assuming they have some say in the matter here).

Furthermore, Q+AL already had a Japan-only release of the Summer Sonic 2014 performance so they may only be able to re-release a certain number of those tracks depending on what arrangements were made for Live in Japan. (Personally, I’d like to see Live in Japan get a worldwide release and I’m disappointed that that hasn’t happened.)

Queen, apparently, owns or was able to get the full rights to the Fire Fight concert. And I know that people feel that we’ve seen that a thousand times before (and I’m given to understand that our Australian fans have, because it was shown on TV there) but at least in the US the only youtube uploads of it are on unofficial accounts. I don’t think it’s fair to assume that since you, personally, have a bootleg of something that means that everyone does or that everyone is as tired of it as you are. 

Also, for better or for worse, the Fire Fight set is somewhat iconic/historic/whatever because it’s the Live Aid recreation. You might not love that (personally, I’m meh about it) but it does make for a good ending for a live album because of that and I can’t fault Queen for wanting to include it.

“If they weren’t planning on doing a live album, they shouldn’t have made one then! Putting together this material is just a cash grab!”

Okay, but is it though?

There’s a demand for this material. Yes, bootlegs exist. Yes, you can rip the audio off of youtube. But I for one am very excited to own Q+AL performances on an official album, especially since Brian said not too long ago that whatever material they’ve recorded with Adam in the studio isn’t fit to be released.

Everything is priced reasonably well. The clothing is maybe a bit expensive, but it’s still in line with the rest of Queen’s products and their tour merch so I’m not mad about it. But the vinyl, CD, DVD, etc. aren’t exorbitantly overpriced, even though Queen very easily could have jacked up the price of everything especially the LP.

They may not have been planning this, in the sense that they set out to record a specific concert to release as a live album like they did in the past with Live Killers, Live at Wembley, Rock Montreal, etc. But the demand is there, and this is a good stopgap between tours that doesn’t ruin the spectacle of the Rhapsody Tour for those who haven’t seen it yet. 

Anyway, here are my final thoughts...

There’s definitely a subset of fans who are going to be disappointed by this release. Personally, there’s a reason why I haven’t pre-ordered a DVD or blu-ray and it’s entirely because I don’t think the video will contain enough new material for me to be Super Invested in owning an original copy of it. I’m fine acquiring a bootleg once that hits the internet, that doesn’t bother me. 

But I am really, really excited about owning the vinyl. I’m excited about Q+AL finally releasing a proper album together, so I can finally listen to their performances without it having to be ripped from a youtube video. I’m so excited to hear how they sound on vinyl, and I will absolutely be buying a digital copy of the album once it’s out as well. 

At the end of the day, this wasn’t planned months in advance and they’re working with whatever material they already have on hand, not anything that they’ve purposefully recorded for this sole purpose. That means that there’s going to be limitations in what they can release, not because they don’t care or because this was rushed but because there are other factors at play here. 

You don’t have to be excited about this, but throwing around accusations of Queen doing this as a “cash grab” just feels really mean-spirited. As Roger said in the press release, they had this idea after seeing the response that they got to the youtube fundraiser video - I don’t have any reason to doubt that that’s true, and that means that they’re responding directly to what fans want and working with what they have to make that happen.

[kareofbears]

day 30: dusk

Hawaii is hot, beautiful, crowded, and decidedly not downtown Tokyo.

---

(Or, the Hawaii school trip rewritten.)

He's about to leave his hotel room when his phone starts ringing. Akira sighs, and swipes up.

"I said to call when you get there."

"Hello to you too, Futaba," Akira greets the pouting girl on the screen. "Sorry, things got busy."

"For five days!? Do you hate me?"

"I could never!" He exclaims, mock offended. "I just wanted to get you the perfect souvenir, unless you don't want the super cool Featherman stickers I saw in a gift shop—"

She gasps, pushing her face right up against the camera, screen blurring as she shakes her phone around. "You’re lying, Kurusu! There's no way you found the limited edition American Featherman laptop stickers there!"

"Mm, I'd be willing to cough it up, but only if an annoying brat is willing to forgive me."

"I forgive you, I forgive you!" She shrieks, eyes glimmering with excitement in a near dangerous way. "Okay, go have fun! Buy more of the stickers, too! I could sell them for big bucks in Japan."

"We are not ruining the merch economy, Futaba."

"You're no fun."

"I'm going now. Be good, you monster."

"Over my dead body would I ever do something good."

----

"That looks fun."

Makoto looks up from her place in the sand, a bucket in her hand. "It is. Would you like to join me?"

Akira nods, and sits beside her. He peers at her mediocre pile. There’s no design or meaning to it—It’s truly just a small mound of sand. "Is that supposed to be a sand castle?"

"Yes," she sighs. "I'm glad you can tell, at least. I've been trying to train myself to accept not being good at some things right away, so I decided to try and create a sandcastle; a task I've never practiced before."

"You never take a break, do you?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call this working," Makoto replies, filling her bucket with white sand. "Though how people create such tall sand castles are beyond me. How do they do it without some adhesive of some kind?" She then dumps the entire bucket onto her pile, grains sliding down as gravity takes hold. It settles back to its original, lackluster heap of sand. "Quite the predicament."

Akira stares at her. "Is that how you've been doing it this whole time?"

"Yes. Is something wrong?" She fills up another bucket of sand.

"Well—" Dump. "That's not...really how you do it."

She frowns. "I wish you'd told me that sooner, I've been working on this for fifteen minutes, and it would be a waste of time to—" Suddenly, a screaming child runs through her pile, flinging sand into both of their eyes.

After a solid minute of coughing and aggressive rubbing, Makoto turns to Akira. "A lesson would be excellent, thank you."

----

“Ooo, look at this one!” Ann exclaims, peering closely at massive, floral-themed sunglasses.

The two of them are strolling through the shopping district of their resort, pointing at random knick-knacks and giving their hot takes on them. To everyone’s surprise, Ann and Yusuke make excellent shopping partners; Yusuke is really the only one who can keep up with Ann’s insatiable need to shop, and he never butters up his response. In return, Ann listens closely to whatever advice he can give about aesthetics and color coding outfits.

“Tacky, but definitely in with the spirit of our island here,” he nods. “I think you should buy it. It will definitely bring some color into the dreariness of Tokyo.”

“You think?” Ann wears them, and looks in a mirror. “Not too much?”

“No, especially if you pair them with the blouse you bought in Shibuya.”

“The white one? Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright,” Ann nods. “I trust you! But if Ryuji laughs at me, I will be throwing these at his head.”

“What on earth does he know about the art of aesthetics and fashion? Certainly not close to the knowledge that you and I possess, surely?”

Ann grins. “This is why you rock, Yusuke.”

“Thank you.”

They pay for her shades before continuing their stroll through the pavilion.

“Thanks for helping me out!” Ann says, basking in the sun. “Ever since Shiho moved, I don’t really feel like I have a friend who I can shop with. I mean, there’s Haru, or Makoto, or even Akira, but I feel like I bore them after a while.”

“My pleasure,” Yusuke replies, every step he takes deliberately putting himself underneath the shade. “I can see no better use of my schedule than practicing the art of color-coding in real time rather than in front of a canvas.”

She hums. “Are you gonna buy anything?”

“Oh, lord no,” he scoffs. “To spend my money on something such as souvenirs when I can hardly imagine paying for my next meal is laughable. No, I’m perfectly content with simply aiding you on your journey.”

Ann blinks at him, before gasping loudly. “I know, I know!” She whirls in front of Yusuke, clapping her hands together. “To thank you for always being with me on my shopping trips, how about I, Takamaki Ann, will buy you one thing in this entire shopping district, free of charge!”

Yusuke frowns. “I can’t possibly do that to you.”

“Sure you can! Think of it as a thank you for being my shopping best friend!” She grips his forearm tightly, eyes twinkling. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Please!”

Yusuke shifts in place, torn. “Only if you’re certain—”

“Heck yeah, I am! Let’s go!”

=

“How about a nice shirt?”

Yusuke tilts his head, holding an armful of fake coconuts. “I have a shirt back at home.”

“Yeah, but…okay, nevermind.” Ann sighs. Shopping for Yusuke is turning out to be a headache. Every time she offers something, he always seems to find a reason not to get it.

“Oo, how about a hat?” She says, showing him a very cheesy red hat with the word ‘Aloha’ written on the top.

“I’m not a fan of hats. To restrict the brain would be to restrict the mind.”

Ann holds back a groan. She wishes Akira were here—his mental alignment with Yusuke is miles better than hers. “Sorry, Yusuke, I’m out of ideas.”

“That’s quite alright,” Yusuke smiles. “I do have to thank you for the offer--” He stops, eyes zoning in on something behind her. “My goodness,” he whispers, before running.

“Wh-what? Wait up!”

Yusuke lifts a massive tiki head, mouth agape. “It’s brilliant…” he mutters, gently brushing the wood with his thumb. “Look at the intricate carving, the colors, the size!” He gasps, before turning to her desperately, still clutching his artifact. “Ann. I need it.”

Ann opens her mouth, before closing it, teeth clacking together. It’s better not to question Yusuke, and she has to wonder why she even tried to offer something normal to him when, in reality, he’s anything but. “Sure thing.”

They walk out of the store five minutes later, Ann’s shades still perched on top of her head and Yusuke happily carrying a 3 foot tiki head.

----

Akira's sitting underneath the shade of an umbrella when Haru decides to visit.

"Hello, there."

He looks up, sunglasses darkening the figure in front of him. She’s wearing her bright teal swimsuit with a large, white sun hat on her head. "Wanna join?" he asks, patting the sand beside him.

"I'd love to," she replies, settling down beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure Ryuji doesn't drown." At her inquisitive look, he continues, "He's been trying to surf for the past twenty minutes."

"Ah, I see. Are you not interested in joining?"

"Not a fan of getting in water if I can help it. You?"

"I prefer to enjoy the sun with some reading," she gestures to the book in her hands: Flowerpedia.

"I'm surprised you haven't read that one before."

"I have!" She smiles, and he mimics her in return. It's nice to see Haru happy despite all odds. "But I like to reread it when I can't actually garden. It still lets me feel as though I'm on the school rooftop this way."

"I'll let you get to it then."

Akira enjoys the sun as Haru flicks open her book. With the waves crashing, the winds blowing, and people around them laughing amongst themselves, it makes for a calming atmosphere.

After a few minutes, Haru looks up from her book. "Oh, would you look at that,” They both watch as Ryuji finally stands on his surfboard, knees shaking. His brow is furrowed in intense concentration, even more so than in group study sessions (which, in reality, doesn’t mean much). "He's doing quite well."

Akira raises his hands and cups it over his mouth. His voice turns high pitched, "Looking cool, Sakamoto-senpai!"

Ryuji looks up, eagerly looking to see which cute kouhai is calling his name before slipping off the board, submerging in water completely as his surfboard continues to ride the current without him.

Haru purses her lips, trying not to laugh. "Too cruel, Akira-kun."

"I think of it as ‘just right.’"

----

“Yo, Haru! Ann!”

The girls turn around to see Ryuji enthusiastically running towards them, a hand behind his back.

“Hello Ryuji-kun,” Haru smiles. “You seem happy.”

“You bet I am! Because, I, Sakamoto Ryuji,” he rips his hand up, showcasing a neon green frisbee. “Bought a motherfuckin’ frisbee! Oops, sorry Haru.”

“I told you, I don’t mind if you swear.”

“A frisbee?” Ann asks, skeptical. “You’re that excited over a piece of plastic?"

“Hey! Have you ever played frisbee on a beach? It’s fu-frick, ugh, whatever, it’s amazing! It tires you out like crazy and it’s super fun. Plus, there ain’t much places to throw a frisbee around in Tokyo, unless you wanna get hit by a car or something.” He grins widely, jumping in place. “So? How about it? Wanna play a few rounds?”

“Ugh, pass. Sounds lame."

“What?! I spent a crazy amount of money on this thing—screw gift shops by the way, they're monsters—and you’re gonna call it lame?”

“Don’t worry Ryuji-kun!” Haru says kindly. “I’d love to play frisbee with you”

“Aw, you’re a lifesaver!” Ryuji whoops. “Unlike this killjoy over here.”

Ann rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m meeting with Akira. Later, Haru.”

Ryuji and Haru separate a good few meters apart and begin to lightly throw the frisbee from each other.

“Would you like to have more distance between us?” Haru calls after a few minutes of tossing. “I’d hate to feel like I’m boring you.”

“Only if you want! Don’t wanna make you sweat or nothin’.”

“I want to!” Haru says, determined. “To learn a skill like proper throwing and the technicalities of a perfect aim is helpful in our endeavor!”

“Hell yeah, that’s the badass Haru I know! Okay, let’s get some distance in here.”

The two of them separate even further, to the point where they have to scream in order to have a conversation.

“Is this good?!” Haru yells, holding the frisbee in her hand.

“Totally!” Ryuji shouts back. “Throw it!”

Haru takes a deep breath, and throws the frisbee with all her might. Perhaps it was her passion for learning new things, or maybe it was simply because she really, really wanted it to reach Ryuji in a beautiful arc where it would land directly in his waiting hands—instead, the neon green frisbee that was lovingly bought with Ryuji's pocket money is flung, gliding into the ocean. They watch in silence as it floats, far and away, until it’s out of sight.

Ryuji does his best to go through the five stages of grief in as little time as possible.

Haru sprints towards him, apologies already bubbling from her lips, promising to buy him ten frisbees and ‘I'm so sorry I don't know what happened Ryuji-kun, come on let's go back to the gift shop.’ In the end, Ryuji successfully turns down her offer, opting instead that they split a banana split back in the hotel.

"I don't know what happened," Haru sighs, shoving strawberry ice cream in her mouth. "I must have thrown it much too hard, I'm—"

"If you say sorry again, I'm making you eat the banana."

She frowns. "Do you not like the banana part of a banana split?"

"Of course not, do I look like someone who likes fruits? Anyway, point is, stop apologizin'! No harm, no foul."

"You looked devastated, Ryuji-kun."

He waves it off. "That's fine. What do they say in English? C'est la vie?"

"I'm... pretty sure that's not English. But please, one last time, allow to me apologize—"

"What, for being too strong?" He asks, eyebrow quirking up. "Look, I know you're my senpai and all, but lemme say this." Ryuji scoops a spoonful of chocolate in his mouth before continuing. "Never apologize for being too strong, especially in a shi-crappy world like this, okay? Lotsa people wish they have what you have, and people who are strong seem to be doin' awesome! I mean, look at Ann—she can probably kick my ass!"

"But she wouldn't."

"She wouldn't," he shrugs. "Doesn't mean that she can't, though. Anyway, for the last time," he points his spoon at her seriously, dripping with melting ice cream. "It's chill. You’re strong and that's awesome. Probably from all the dirt you carry, or weeds you pull out, or something."

Haru giggles. "Thank you, Ryuji-kun."

"No prob! Hey, let's see if we can get away with fillin’ up an entire bowl with caramel sauce!"

"I don't think that's the best idea."

----

"Akiraaaaa~"

"Yes, Ann?"

She grins, donned in her bikini and proudly shoving her phone in his face. Her beach bag hangs off of her shoulders. "Photoshoot?"

He pretends to think about it. "Only if I get compensated."

"You'll get compensated through a movie when we get back?"

"Deal."

Ann chooses a nice, empty spot on the beach; a seemingly impossible task given that Hawaii is a magnet for tourists. "This place is perfect!"

"It is," he agrees. "Any particular angles you're feeling right now?"

"You know my good ones," Ann says, throwing her bag down. She'd dragged him to enough of her photoshoots that he can practically mimic them, in order, alongside her.

Akira nods, and they get to work. She gives him a variety of poses—playful, confident, flirty, and he tries his best to channel his inner Ohya and get the best shots possible (at least, enough for ‘the ‘Gram,’ as she would affectionately call it). At one point, Akira has his stomach against the sand to capture her angles, to the amusement of the people watching.

"Ooo, what a cameraman!" Ann calls, one leg in the air, mid-pose.

"Only the best for the next Vogue superstar."

She laughs, but abruptly stops when a rough, deep, unknown voice yells at them.

"Show us more, sweetheart!"

Ann makes eye contact with a massive bodybuilder, eyeing her. She giggles. "Only if you come here!"

Akira clenches his jaw as the man saunters over to her, clearly thrilled to have Ann's attention. "What's your name, honey?"

Ann smiles, leaning over, having the man salivating behind her. Then, she picks up her bag and slams it across the guy's jaw. "My name is eat shit, asshole!"

He stumbles back, shocked and clutching his jaw. "You're fucking crazy!" He spits out, backing away from her, before stomping in another direction.

Akira sits up, smiling, and puts his hand up to her. "Good one."

"Thanks!" She enthusiastically high-fives him. "Was it too much?"

"The ‘eat shit’ thing? No, it's pretty classy."

"Right? It really gets the message across!"

"You want more pictures?"

After a second, she answers, "Nah, I’m good. I am down for a selfie though."

He smiles, and they both throw bunny ears around each other, both grinning at the camera.

----

"You okay there?"

Yusuke groans, eyes closed, leaning his head back on the sofa. His hand absent-mindedly rubs his bloated stomach. The two of them are sitting alone in the hotel buffet lounge on a table that's too big for them. Everyone else had left already, too impatient to wait for Yusuke to finish. "I feel that death is approaching."

Akira grimaces in sympathy. "Was it before or after the third plate of fried squid?"

"Before." He sighs. "I am not accustomed to so much food being available to me that I may have been a tad too eager."

"I can see that," Akira pushes his glass of water towards his mildly green-looking friend. "Drink that when you can."

"Thank you, but if I attempt to put anything in my mouth right now..." he shivers. "I cannot imagine it."

"Wanna try walking it off?"

Yusuke considers it. "Yes, that would suffice."

Akira helps Yusuke up, not unlike helping an aging Saint Bernard stand, and together they make their way to the beach.

He breathes in deeply, smiling ever so slightly. "As always, a great decision, leader. I feel my insides cleansing with the salt of the ocean."

"Do you like the ocean?"

"Yes. In truth, this is only my second time going; the first being when we went in the summer," he hesitates, before admitting, "Sensei didn't like to take us places as it could have been a distraction from making art."

"That's weird," Akira says. "Since places and experiences can help you make art, can't it?"

"My thoughts exactly. Sensei seemed to have forgotten how art is truly created, instead remembering how art can be acquired," he looks to the ocean, eyes distant. "A shame, since the ocean truly is something remarkable that cannot be captured without seeing it in real life."

He takes in Yusuke's expression, the way he stares longingly at the sea, and asks, "Do you want to make art now?"

"I'd love to, but my canvases were taken away during customs," he grimaces. "A shame, since I had brought five as well. What a waste of good supplies."

Akira tugs on his fringe. "You know, sand is almost like a textured canvas, isn't it?" He traces a smiley face on the sand with his heel. "Check it out."

Yusuke blinks. "Yes, but then I won't be able to take it back with me. It would eventually be washed away, or stepped on, or—"

"Yeah but you're not doing this to put it in a gallery, aren't you?" Akira asks, smiling at Yusuke. "This is just so you have a way to make art and enjoy it."

His eyes widen, before Yusuke chuckles quietly. "You truly have an interesting mind, leader."

"You and me both."

"Alright!" Yusuke starts, clapping his hands together. "Allow me to make art, not for a museum, nor for any of these pedestrians, but for myself."

Akira watches Yusuke make intricate patterns on the white sand for forty minutes; true to his word, he was constantly interrupted by kids sprinting across his make-shift canvas, waves washing it away, and at one point someone had dropped their entire surfboard right in the middle of it all.

Yusuke steps back, and admires his work. It’s barely comprehensible—just a lot of swirls and lines, but he's smiling wider than Akira’s ever seen.

"What do you think?"

"Does it matter what I think?" Akira shrugs. "I thought you never liked making art for others' opinion."

"I'd be willing to say you're the exception."

He grins, and claps his hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. "If that's the case, then I'd say it's perfect."

----

"Three-on-three, girls against boys."

Haru puts her hand up politely. "Pardon the accusation Mako-chan, but it seems that the teams may be unfair to us girls. After all, the tallest of us is Ann, who's only 5'6."

"Nah," Ryuji shakes his head, pointing an accusatory finger at Makoto. "You weren't there when we went to the beach before. She spikes down on us, no problem. Fuckin' hurts to try and block her, too. If anything, girls’ll have the advantage here.”

"But don’t worry about them, either," Ann pipes up. "They'll have Akira on the team. He makes a great setter."

"Not to mention that Yusuke is literally 5'11," Akira points out, hand raised to block out the intense Hawaiian sun.

Ryuji looks at Yusuke, as if only now seeing his height. "Huh. Damn, you're tall, huh? Like a telephone post, or something."

"I'll take that as a compliment; without telephone posts, we cannot use telephones."

"Hell yeah, we can't!" he grins, despite Yusuke's lackluster response. "You'll earn us a ton of points dude!"

Yusuke smiles. "You can rely on me."

=

"Yusuke!" Ryuji wails, frustrated. "You can't just stand and put your arms up to block! You gotta jump! Like this!" He demonstrates. "You're just letting all her spikes in at this rate!"

"But," Yusuke frowns. "If I jump too much, I start to sweat."

"Then take off that goddamn hoodie!"

"Hmm, that's possible. However, too much sun isn't good for me. It makes me sweat."

Ryuji screams, and Akira pats his back.

The score is roughly 22 - 8, girls in the lead. Haru makes for a good setter with her steady hands, and Makoto has never hesitated about anything in her life, which both add up to a dangerous combo. On the other side of the net, the only reason they earned their meager set of points is from Akira's setter dumps. Anytime he tries to set to Ryuji, Ryuji gets so excited that he either misses the timing, or simply forgets to jump. Though, Ryuji is fantastic at receiving the ball, from his stamina and fast reflexes. Yusuke, however, refuses to receive any of Makoto's spikes, opting instead to tilt his body out of her line of fire.

"It's okay, Yusuke!" Haru calls encouragingly from the other side. "Volleyballs are pretty scary sometimes!"

"Thank you Haru, but I am truly unperturbed by the point gap."

"You should be!" Ryuji screeches.

"It's not just his fault, you idiot!" Ann yells back, all too happy to pick on Ryuji. "You're the one that can't run and jump at the same time!"

"Sh-shut up! You're letting Haru and Makoto do all the work!"

"That's way better than losing by fourteen points!"

“How long did it take you to do that mental math, Takamaki? Or did Makoto whisper the answer to you?”

“Which one of us got 29% on the last math practice exam, because it wasn’t me!”

"How about we grab food?" Makoto cuts in. "It's about that time, anyway."

"Food sounds good," Akira says quickly, eager to lower Ryuji’s blood pressure.

Yusuke nods, pleased. "Yes, I was just about famished, anyway."

"Akira told me you almost threw up."

"That was nearly two hours ago. Everything has been digested."

"I worry about you, Yusuke."

----

"Hey."

Akira turns around to see Ryuji kicking the ground, making tiny sand clouds with his flip flops. The sun is about to set soon, casting their chunk of Hawaiian beach in an ethereal golden glow. Thankfully, with the lack of heat, there are substantially less people wandering around, and it can almost be considered peaceful. Quiet, even.

"Hey, yourself."

Ryuji rubs the back of his neck, "I'm not really hungry yet. You?"

Akira feels himself smile. "Can't say that I am. Wanna walk?"

"Almost like you read my mind."

So they walk along the shoreline, flip flops in their hands as they talk, waves lapping at their feet as they laugh about nothing and everything, basking in the sunlight and in each other's company. Akira kicks sand at Ryuji's feet which led to him trying to push Akira into the waves, losing his balance, and falling into the ocean himself. After they both nearly cry with laughter, they both decided to take a break on a nearby bench.

"Man," Ryuji sighs, hair still wet with salt water. “Hawaii is nice as hell. Can’t find a beach like this in Japan, ya know?” Ryuji looks at the sunset in front of them wistfully. “Makes me wish my Ma could see it. She’s always wanted to visit warm places, but she’s always working, never got the time.” His eyes light up, “Maybe I could take a couple pictures! I bet she’d love that.”

“She would,” Akira agrees. In the few times he’s met Sakamoto-san, she’s a huge sentimental sweetheart who thinks the world of her son. “Want me to take some of you?”

Ryuji thinks about it. “How about let’s take one together? She’d be happy to have proof that I’m not just making shit up about having friends.”

“Sure thing.”

The two of them crowd around Ryuji’s phone, Akira smiling softly while Ryuji grins, throwing peace signs, snapping a photo, before pulling back again. “Aw, she’d love this!” He grins. “This ain’t actually half bad, either.”

“Send it to me,” Akira says, peering over his shoulder. “I’ve been needing a new background, anyway.”

Ryuji stares at Akira, ears red. “S-sure, dude.”

They watch the waves crash against the shore. "I can't believe today's our last day,” Ryuji sighs. “I feel like nothing even happened."

Akira hums, making mindless circles into the sand with the very tip of his toes. "Did you want something to happen?"

"I mean, nothing specific. All I know about Hawaii was that they had beaches and shit," he shifts slightly. "The one thing I actually wanted to happen was to hang out with you a whole bunch, and even then I feel like I didn't get that."

"Well, we're here now, aren't we?"

Ryuji looks up at Akira, and after a beat of silence, he laughs. "Yeah, I guess we are." He bumps shoulders with him, grinning. "Look at you, sayin' shit like that, thinking you're so cool."

"Oh, I am the coolest. Arguably, I'd say I'm the coolest guy around."

"Yeah, next to Mishima, maybe."

"You don't think I'm cool?"

"I didn't say that!"

"So you do think I'm cool?"

It might be the warm sun or the general heat of the island, but his face flushes a bright red. After a moment of spluttering, he mumbles, "I think you're cool as hell."

Akira blinks, completely caught off guard. He tries to say a joke, like hell can’t be cool, Ryuji, but his heart is hammering so hard that his body can’t seem to cooperate.

"Oh," Ryuji goes on, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I was looking through the gift shop for my Ma’s souvenir and I found something for you!"

He fishes out two small keychains; two flip flops, one left, one right. They're designed with a tacky Hawaiian print and coconuts all over. Ryuji hands one to Akira. "We could match, see?" He rubs the back of his neck again. "Thought it was neat cause if we both have one, it's like we're walking side by side! Or, you know, something like that." His flush deepens, spreading all the way down his neck and splitting his chest. "Or not, it's probably super lame and tacky, it only cost like, 4 dollars, which is like 40 yen, right? Anyway, my bad for ruining the mood—"

"I love it," Akira breathes.

Ryuji's eyes widen before he quickly turns away. "Cool, cool." He looks to the sunset, too overwhelmed to look at the boy next to him. "We should probably head back, yeah? Bet Yusuke and Ann are eating half the buffet by now."

Akira scoots closer, shoulder to shoulder with the boy beside him. "Then let them."

They sit there for a few more minutes, watching the sky slowly turn violet, matching keychains hanging loosely from their fingertips.

[madame-brioche]

CAMP TOCCOA SERIES HEADCANON

Part 1: Meet the Counselors 🦋

Winters — The Nutritional Counselor:

-teaches math during the off-season

-affectionately calls his campers "little chicken nuggets"

-gets up at 5 in the morning for a quiet hike

-makes sure you take your required medication and vitamins and use your inhaler, whatever you need

-goes around to let everyone know it's time for light's out

-will comfort campers with ice cream if they're feeling homesick

-secretly planning a fun last day of camp prank with Counselor Nixon

-lots of pastels in his uniform

-rescues injured birds and squirrels, and nurses them back to health

-knows every camper's name, hobbies, favorite color, allergies

-pinkie promises on everything

-makes the best ice tea and coffee in the cafeteria

-“I love all of you equally”

Nixon — The Chaotic Functional Counselor

-used to pull legendary pranks before becoming a head counselor but now just does mostly paperwork

-tells nightmare-fuel scary stories and then abruptly says "well goodnight" afterwards & leaves

-carries a secret flask and gets wasted at the campfire

-hungover af at breakfast the next morning

-pets every dog he comes across, and even lets his campers sneak one into the bunks to keep

-wears baggy shorts, a baseball cap backwards and rocks sunglasses indoors

-gets hyped for taco Tuesday's in the cafeteria

-hosts wine Wednesday's in the counselors' lounge

-takes spiders outside rather than killing them

-oddly competitive during icebreaker games

-talks shit about other counselors to his campers

-“can I get a double shot americano with bourbon?”

Lipton — The Mom Counselor

-ray of fucking sunshine

-keeps in touch with his campers after they leave

-has been working there for an insanely long time

-arts and crafts leader, orchestrating friendship bracelet making

-gets along with all the other counselors, never has beef with anyone

-gives the best advice, even if you don't want to hear it

-the best bear hugs omfg just makes you feel so safe and protected

-smells like campfire and s'mores

-literally made out of happiness and gummy worms

-surprises everyone with a pajama pizza party

-makes sure you're staying hydrated and getting enough sleep, applying sunscreen/bug spray, and having a good time

-come to him with any injuries, aches, or pains

-“What do you mean you’re not having fun?”

Speirs — The Varsity Wilderness Survival Counselor

-how did this guy get to be a counselor?

-hides contraband in a shallow hole by the obstacle course

-breaks all the rules but upholds them for his campers

-will come in and scare the living shit out of you if you don't listen to Counselor Winters' lights out warning

-only one who hits Counselor Sobel with a water balloon

-gets up at 4am to lift and run around the campgrounds

-only wears tank tops, even in the cold

-will test his campers by leaving them in the woods at night and expect them to find their way back

-maybe sheds one tear on the last day, maybe

-really high stakes trust exercises

-will suck the venom out of a snake bite to save your life

-moves through the forest without making a sound

-“I will throw you to the mountain lions”

Welsh — The Hip Counselor

-plays Wonderwall on his acoustic guitar during campfire performances

-hasn't showered in a week and it's noticeable

-grows a goatee and runs around barefoot

-is banned from helping out in the kitchen

-will set up your tent for you in exchange for drugs

-reigning tie-dye shirt making champ

-recycling king™️

-makes sure there's vegetarian options in the cafeteria

-smells like mother nature's armpit

-wears a bandana around his head

-can be found avoiding duties and playing ultimate frisbee with his campers

-“tbh, I’ve had five existential crises since we’ve been here!”

Compton — The Cool Friend Counselor

-wears a different flannel everyday

-calls you out for your bullshit during cabin meetings

-gives the best pep talks before games of capture the flag

-somehow manages to read 4+ books over the course of camp

-knows how to sew/patch up clothes

-leads most of the cheers and rallying songs

-hangs out with campers instead of other counselors in his free time

-always down for darts, archery, swimming, sailing, kayaking, you name it

-overshares personal life details during campfire sharing time

-will totally help you TP Counselor Sobel’s cabin

-once ate a bee on a dare

-“guys, I’m not mad but who put weed killer in my shampoo?”

Martin — The Don’t F With Me Counselor

-resting bitch face during camp cheers

-aggressively salutes the flag during morning assembly

-inexplicably good at memorizing everyone’s name on the first day

-openly drinks gin and tonic in the cafeteria

-the reason a few campers wanted to go home

-somehow ends up being one of your favorite counselors by the last day

-is not subtle about playing favorites

-cooks most of the food for the camp and will be insulted if you don’t eat what’s on your plate

-can do that loud whistle with his fingers to get everyone’s attention

-low key freaks out if one of his campers is missing and will not rest until they’re found

-mood can go from 0 to 100 over the pettiest things

-“Yeah I’m gonna need you to kindly pipe the fuck down with the crazy glue for the rest of craft time”

Randleman — The Boy Scout Counselor

-wears a lot of camo at all times

-scary good at poker

-smokes on the premises even though it’s forbidden

-talks fast and direct, commands your attention

-makes a mean s’more and prefers the marshmallow to be burnt

-will let his campers get away with the most shenanigans so long as it’s not hurting anyone

-actually cries the last day of camp

-kickball and flag football champion

-has wrestled a grizzly bear and won

-collects pocket knives and random critters

-bff’s with Counselor Martin and sometimes takes charge of Martin’s campers and vice versa

-has never gotten bit by a mosquito

-snores loudly and will sleep through anything

-has been granted camp counselor tenure because he’s been there so dang long

-“y’all wanna go sink a canoe?”

Peacock — The Cute But Clueless Counselor

-wears a lot of band t-shirts merch

-has song lyrics tattooed on various body parts

-rocks an intentional mullet

-constantly getting lost when leading hikes but great at improvising

-has a tan even if the sun hasn’t been out

-blood smells like cologne

-instructs canoeing and determines whether you pass the swim test or not

-has a way with animals and manages the small camp petting zoo

-got six stitches last year from doing a flip off the dock

-gets scared from the scary stories Counselor Nixon tells

-“la la la la if I can’t hear the ghosts they can’t hurt me”

Dike — The Absentee Counselor

-says “oof” after any minor inconvenience

-oversleeps and misses morning assembly

-a camper may die on his watch, you never know

-gives sub par motivational speeches

-tries to comfort homesick campers but ends up crying himself

-has a fear of swimming without water wings

-might get mauled by a bear later

-given up on learning his campers’ names

-calls other counselors for help

-has one facial expression at all times

-spits when he talks

-constantly stressed during outdoor camping

-passive aggressiveness af during cabin meetings

-sleeps with a night light

-“wait am I responsible for all of you?”

Sobel — The Narc Counselor

-literally no one likes him

-mission is to make sure everyone follows his rules

-carries around a bullhorn and a backup whistle

-failed the swim test

-says “fight me” but would get his ass kicked

-misspells everything

-will give you latrine duty if you leave your bunk bed unmade or the dishes aren’t in alphabetical order

-doesn’t participate in campfire games or sing alongs

-got left behind on a trail for 9 hours once

-confiscates any and all contraband camp items including non regulated shoes

-likes noodles with ketchup

-perpetual disappointed glare

-has a cold like once a week

-only allows one s’more per camper

-“and you will know my name is the lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee, now put this can of peaches back where it belongs!”

Stay tuned for Part 2: The Campers

[bugaboowritings]

Punk!Marinette - A Short Drabble-

Marinette Helps Adrien out of a Tree

 I have been going down holes as I avoid spoilers. Even found my unfinished writing about Punk! Marinette just had to polish it up. Inspired from art under the punk Marinette tag and @musicfeedsmysoul12 who wrote some things on this au. 

Also I’m slowly posting my work at ao3 to make it easier to find, my username is bugaboo0scrambles for anyone interested. 

Marinette clicked her tongue with satisfaction. Admiring her work with her mirror. With years and years of practice, applying winged eyeliner still seems like a game of Russian roulette. Going perfectly amazing or making her say “screw it” before giving herself a smoky eye to cover it up the ‘step-sisters’ she painted on her lids. Yet, it was a part of her routine, something she kept since that summer ago spent watching strangers talk about products and brushes.

The laces on her boots drew out the gap between leather and skin as if it was a long sign. Marinette tugged on her laces tighter before reaching a fixed level of security. Fitting in like a second skin. Her hand smoothed over her slick new shoes, relishing its aesthetic allure and not helping the snicker that came up her throat. The heels on this pair were a whopping 3 and a half inches. Nothing major compared to the other shoes on display in the market, but it was enough to give her the needed height to make her a pinch taller then Alya.

With that, she carefully went down the stairs. Watching her step as she got comfortable to the new height. Accepting her death only twice while she barely caught herself from tumbling down the stairs.

Stuffing the long laces into the inside of her boots before making it out of the backdoor of the house. Her hand on the doorknob, other on her hip. Calling out to her parent goodbye as the front of the bakery buzzed with customers.

Nibbled on her maroon-stained lips before checking the trash can. Emptying it to before her parents forgot about it.  

The fresh air outside was mixed with the sounds of cars and that horrible unidentifiable “alley smog” rushing to her head. Pushing the plastic bag out the doorway and into the alley. Stepping out before her dad escaped the customers to plot a kiss on her daughter’s head. His beard carried traces of flour while his apron was clean except the splash of fruit-filling by his knee. Wishing Marinette good luck at school before he rushed to get more ingredients as her mother yelled from the front to take care.

Marinette lightly swept her bangs to get rid of her father’s messy, flour kiss. All while her nose crinkled at the smell of day-old eggshells and butter wrappers. Holding her breath and feeling her wrist twist as she opened the dumpster to throw in the trash. Not helping the gag that came up as the garbage smelt of sun-baked vomit cookies. Letting go of the metal lid causing it to slam shut. If her caffeinated tea didn’t wake her up, then that harsh sound did. Even scaring off the black cat that slept peacefully before screeching off into the street.

-----

“How lame.” Chloe scoffed. Rolling her head like a rag doll as she raised her sunnies from her clear-blue eyes. Her nails, done and polished, flicked the lone blonde strand over her ear.

“Nice shoes, Mari!” She yelled. Booming her voice through the quad. “Matches the whole clown suit too!”

Marinette flipped her off without even looking in her direction. Making her way to the other end of the school to meet up Alya. The one classmate that could manage a conversation with her without being intimidated.

Alya typed swiftly on her keyboard without bothering to look at the keys. A skill that Marinette envied and Alya swore to be like second nature after months of drafting sharp observations over comics, movies and Paris local heroes on her blogs. She sported the denim jacket Marinette decorated for her with patches and pins all with a khaki pleated skirt. Topping it off with her very own white-tee. Her new merch, a commission by Marinette, for her Ladyblog.  

“Alya.”

“Marinette.”

Marinette threw her bag under her before lifting her ankles to cross her legs. Rocking back and forth, waiting for the typing to slow down. Once it did, it reached a sudden stop.

Alya sighed and saved her work before tugging her bag on her lap. Sliding her laptop out of harm’s way.

“I got a new scoop last night.” Alya grinned. Relaxing into her seat. Crossing her glossy legs.

“You will never believe what I saw, girl!” Jumping on Marinette as stars lit up in her eyes. A quick transition from her blank expression earlier. Marinette, knowing where this was going, played dumb.

“Let me guess,” Mari hummed, narrowing her eyes at nothing in the distance. Only to get spooked when Alya shook her.

“AHH! I can’t wait! Just let me tell you!!”

Smirking at the journalist. Alya, as if her tongue was on fire, spit on her amazing story.

There she, in the middle of the night, getting a drink of water. Like how she always did when she was staying up late for an article. Only to hear a loud noise outside. Assuming it’s an Akuma before considering the idea of an earthquake happening in the middle of Europe or a plane crash. Incentively fishing for her phone to see the most amazing sight ever. The greatest thing to hit theaters in its time. The most inspiring and jaw-dropping things to ever live in black and white. The scaly, creepy Godzilla! Stomping out the streets of Paris in the dead of night. Apartments lights flicked on as the beast strolled through the street. Holding in its roars as it tossed its tail. Missing a building by a hair. With a “zip” and a “wow”, the Parian hero duo leaped neighborhoods and buildings. Chat Noir tossed his baton in the air, saving Ladybug by the fraction of second from being dino-chum as she twirled up into the air. Ladybug’s yo-yo looped around the monster swiftly with her momentum, tripping the beast toward the bottom of the Eiffel tower. With Chat Noir’s cataclysm ready, Ladybug called on her lucky charm and-  

“- and Agreste at 10.” Alya murmured. Watching Adrien come through the front door with Nino by his side. Laughing at each other as they look back to Nino’s phone. Marinette turned around, groaning- knowing this morning routine too well. Trying to make herself seem smaller as she pushed back her shoulders. Hoping to go under notice. Already feeling his lime-green eyes on her back.

“I’ll be hiding in a tree or at the art studio, whatever I reach first.” Already grieving the loss of a perfectly good morning. “Text me if you need me.”

“See ya.” Alya waved. Slumping back to the bench as Marinette rushed away in the opposite direction of Adrien.

-----

“Marinette!”

“Agreste.”

“Ah. . .Come here often?”

Marinette had to stop the snort that came up her throat. Being a second late as a small chuckle left her lips. Having to shut down her face to not give Adrien the fuel to keep going. Bring back that dull expression as she watched Adrien struggle a little bit more.

“I don’t usually come here, but if I do I’m not dangling out of trees.”

“Uh,” Agreste hummed. Unsure what to say as he felt the tingling of blood rushing to his head competed with the deep blush that appeared on his cheeks. Or maybe that was just the pain of his blood rushing to head. Yeah, maybe it was the blood rushing to his head. 

On the bright side, however, it made it harder to see if he’s blushing.

“I’m practicing my tree climbing. . . ?” He smugly answered. 

“Practicing,” Marinette repeated. Letting that lame reason melt on her tongue before she even thought of accepting it. Crossing her arms as she stuck her leg out. Her heel rocked back and forth on the dirt. Creating a little hole as she thought this over.

“I’m not one to try and get into someone’s business-”

“You’re not getting in my business. I MEan, I-I don’t mind you asking about it. .!”

Marinette kissed her teeth. “Right . . . “

Biting her lips as she left out a long sigh. Pitching the bridge of her nose, the click on her rings hitting her septum piercing. She’ll regret this, she knows it already. She just had to humor him, even if it was a little longer.

“So Agreste. I would hate to bother this,” Marinette motioned. Her hands raised up and down and around. “But you seem like you need help? Do you need help to get down?”

“. . .Actually, yeah.”

----

“Why is Marinette pulling Adrien out of a tree?” Alix questioned. Pointing out the window when Alya and Mylene came over. Her finger covering the odd scene outside.

The three girls press their faces up the glass as they watched the commotion outside unfold.

“It looks like Marinette is shoving him in a tree to me...” Alya mumbled. Squinting her eyes before she removed her glasses. Rubbing them quickly against her shirt before pushing them back up her face.

Mylene bit her thumb, “Do you think we should go and help them? Maybe they-”

A muffled thump hit the ground. A puff of dirt rising in the air, covering the teens outside. Coughing as they waved the dust away. Marinette smoothed the dirt off her jacket as Adrien groaned.

“I think they’re fine.” Alya hummed. Returning to her notebook.

“Okay, so what did you get for question seven?”

[aroworlds]

The Vampire Conundrum, Part Two

When Rowan Ross is pressured into placing an aromantic pride mug on his desk, he doesn't know how to react when his co-workers don't notice it. Don't they realise he spent a weekend rehearsing answers for questions unasked? Then again, if nobody knows what aromanticism is, can't he display a growing collection of pride merch without a repeat of his coming out as trans? Be visible with impunity through their ignorance?

He can endure their thinking him a fan of archery, comic-book superheroes and glittery vampire movies. It's not like anyone in the office is an archer. (Are they?) But when a patch on his bag results in a massive misconception, correcting it means doing the one thing he most fears: making a scene.

After all, his name isn't Aro.

Contains: One trans, bisexual frayromantic alongside an office of well-meaning cis co-workers who think they're being supportive and inclusive.

Content Advisory: This story hinges on the way most cishet alloromantic people know nothing about aromanticism and the ways many trans-accepting cis people fail to best communicate their acceptance. In other words, expect a series of queer, trans and aro microaggressions. There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual", but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with romance.

Length: 3, 737 words (part two of two).

Note: Posted for @aggressivelyarospec‘s AggressivelyArospectacular 2019.

Romance, too, feels like one of the mechanisms by which a dangerous trans body can be rendered more acceptable to cis folks.

“His name’s Aro,” Melanie says after lunch, showing a new volunteer around the office. She pats Rowan on the shoulder as she walks behind his chair, startling him enough that the clipping path he’s making around a photo of Damien’s head goes veering off to the side. “He does our website, our flyers and the information guides we send out. Aro like from the Twilight movies!”

Introductions once only encompassed Melanie’s habit of overly-stressing pronouns when referencing him—a dysphoria-triggering reminder that she doesn’t think him masculine enough for people to assume it. Isn’t that bad enough without her also getting his name wrong?

He sighs, frustrated. Complaining about this, when trans people are in desperate want of a working environment free of outright antagonism and discrimination, feels unreasonable. Hell, Rowan knows aromantics who’ll revel in being named “Aro”, so isn’t his hurt just pettiness? Isn’t this why he’s no longer welcome at home, a man too intolerant of his family’s mistakes? How many times did they tell him that his harping on about little things demonstrates a concerning lack of gratitude for their acceptance?

His co-workers do seem to believe in Rowan’s masculinity; he shouldn’t take that for granted.

Instead, he feels like he’s failing at being both transgender and aromantic.

After a fair amount of editing, he places Damien’s image in the brochure mock-up and exports to PDF. The office will make suggestions, some useful, some ignorant and some so absurd that Rowan will laugh with his friends later on, but that’s fine. He can’t expect otherwise in a workplace where everyone considers him possessed of unknowable ability with computers. They’re good people, in the main, and they care about their work.

It’s just complicated, and Rowan hates the feeling that complicated is the best cis people will let him get to a normalised acceptance.

“Aro? An Arrow fan called Aro? Really? Do you like comics or are you one of those people only into DC TV?”

Rowan looks up from attaching his PDF to an email to find the volunteer sitting on a creaking office chair and crab-walking it over to Rowan’s desk. “Comics?”

“Oh, good.” The volunteer sighs as if in relief. “I mean, the TV show? It isn’t terrible—better than most of DC’s movies, at least—but I’m so tired of people who call themselves fans but have never touched a comic book.”

Rowan glances at his journal cover, ponders its possible similarity to the show’s motif and nearly bursts out laughing. He’s never read a comic and doesn’t plan on doing so. He prefers indie podcasts and audiobooks on account of increased representation and greater ability to sew and cook while listening. “I’m not an Arrow fan. Sorry.”

Another show about cis people possessed of everyone-should-pair-up amatonormativity?

Hard pass.

“You’re not?” The volunteer gapes, waving his hand towards Rowan’s cluster of pride mugs. Three, now. Only one contains coffee, which feels like a terrible oversight. “Is this a joke, then? Are they getting you arrow stuff because of your name? Like some office thing?”

Aro.

His name is not Aro.

Rowan once thought the concept of snapping a mere storytelling device, something as ludicrous or impossible as “glittering eyes” or “romantic interest that lasts after getting to know someone”. At best an experience had by people without a brain that doesn’t devote most of its time to screaming alerts at the prospect of anything dangerous. Absurd, irrational, void of any real-life relevance.

Not even with his family has he felt this chilling, all-encompassing moment of enough.

He looks back at his computer, attaches a second PDF file to his email and, before he considers pesky things like consequences, clicks send. Then Rowan climbs up on his office chair, steps up onto the desk and whistles like a country boy who owned a border collie prone to sneaking off the property and rounding up the neighbour’s sheep.

Everyone in the office gapes up at him with a motley assortment of parted lips, unblinking eyes and, in Melanie’s case, the pointing of a long, vermillion-polished fingernail.

Up high, the room reeks of nesting rodents and the popcorn ceiling desperately wants refinishing.

Now Rowan’s brain tells his limbs to shake and his chest to heave; of course, he thinks as he shoves his hands behind his back, anxiety kicks in after he’s neck-deep in it! “My … my name is Rowan. I chose it.” He looks at the vent on the opposite wall, fighting to sound collected. Is that black mould? “Dad told me if I rejected my deadname, I was rejecting them. That I was being cruel and selfish. I earnt my name!” He stops, gasping for breath like a hooked fish—which, given his terror, feels far too appropriate a simile. “My identity is aro, short for aromantic, like being queer—one way of my being queer. So ... there’s a PDF booklet in your inbox about aromanticism. Read it! I’m proud of being aro, but you need to call me by the name I chose! It’s Rowan!”

He jumps down off the desk. The creaking laminate and the thud of his dress shoes, a little too large for Rowan’s feet, sound abominably loud in the sepulchrally-quiet room. Heading past giddy into faint, but pushed on by a heedlessness of the “this can’t possibly get worse because I’m going to be fired” variety, Rowan snatches up his satchel and reaches into the side pocket to pull out his handful of print leaflets. He drops one in the lap of the gaping volunteer, tosses the rest on an empty desk for luddites who prefer paper, and returns to his chair.

Seven sets of speechless eyes bore holes through his skull, shoulders and spine.

Rowan jams on his headphones, opens his no-romance metal playlist and turns his music up to a volume just short of deafening before queuing new posts to the project’s website.

When he invented the God of Trans Men as flippant rhetoric to cope with Melanie’s questions, is it right to pray to him?

***

Two hours later, doing his best to radiate an aura of do not disturb on pain of your bloody death, Rowan fights to pay attention to the last event write-up. Leaving early means asking permission and walking down the row of desks, risking stares and comments; he instead corrects Melanie’s idiosyncratic punctuation. Didn’t Melanie go to school at a time when they taught more than English comprehension? How doesn’t she know when not to use an apostrophe?

There’ll be consequences. Warnings? A formal discussion in the private office the supervisors only use for interviews? A request that he undergo counselling? A strong recommendation for psychiatric assessment? Firing? It isn’t like they can’t throw a rock and hit thousands of people under the age of forty with general computer skills and design ability who aren’t prone to standing on desks to make unwanted announcements.

No. Focus on the damn comma splices.

Should he ask his psychiatrist for the soonest possible appointment? New meds?

A tap on the shoulder makes Rowan’s head threaten to brush the probably-asbestos-riddled ceiling; he gasps and yanks off his headphones, trembling.

Melanie stands beside his chair, holding out her phone in its glossy pink case. “Those words that are underlined? Can I click on them to find out what they mean, like on a website? Like ... al-lo-sexual?”

“Hyperlinks in an interactive PDF—the file on your phone—work the same way as on a website,” Rowan says without thinking: in the last three months, he’s been asked this ten times. “If you click on those links, they’ll take you to a glossary at the end of the document with definitions.”

Damien sits facing his usual computer, his head tilted as if watching out the corner of his eye.

Melanie smiles the expression of a woman in an alternate dimension where Rowan doesn’t engage in embarrassing outbursts. “You’re so good at all this stuff, Rowan.” She stresses his name just enough that he can pretend she didn’t. “Where did you learn it all?”

He once tried to explain his philosophy of clicking on things only to realise that while the concept of generational divides requires excessive generalisation, a difference exists in terms of his willingness to fearless experimentation with electronic devices and programs. “School. Uni.”

“You’re so lucky. School was nothing like that when I was a girl. You have so many more opportunities now. And identities.” Melanie sighs and pushes a wisp of grey hair back from her eyebrows. “It’s good, it really is.”

Rowan blinks, startled into silence by a rare glimpse of validation stripped of performance and demonstration.

He hadn’t thought anyone here capable of it.

“It says that some people feel repulsed by romance? Are you like that? Should we do something? Do we need to not talk about romance in the office? Like, if I describe my daughter dating her boyfriend, not that I want to, is that bad? Do we need to hold a meeting? Damien—Damien—”

Damien turns, wearing the blinded look of a rabbit frozen in a spotlight. “Yes...?”

For how long has Damien worked with Melanie? For how long has the office rolled with Melanie’s interruptions and proclamations, her meetings called about the slightest of issues? For how long has the office accepted Shelby’s incessant reminding and Damien’s inability to surrender event photography to someone who knows how to modify their flash settings? Isn’t there a chance that they’ll tolerate Rowan’s occasional moments of desk-blathering?

A trans aro should be able to sew a patch on his bag reading “aro” without provoking cis weirdness. Since when does someone read a new word on his bag and assume that’s now his name? Isn’t that another over-the-top demonstration made by awkward cis people trying to prove their acceptance, something that’s never made Rowan feel safe?

Even when he’s aromantic, he never gets to avoid cissexism.

He slides his hands between the seat and his legs, aware of Melanie’s once again drawing the office’s unbroken attention. “I, personally, don’t care if people talk about their romances,” he says, certain that Damien needn’t answer Melanie about meetings, “but I do care when people assume I must want one. I do care when Sh … some of you just keep asking if I’m dating anyone.”

Rowan long set aside the need to bother with romance. He isn’t aromantic in the way most people first think of the word, as he does fall in love, but it describes his frayromanticism nonetheless. Why put himself through the inevitable messy, angry break-up when his partners don’t understand why what started as romance ends up to him as a friendship? When dating isn’t without trans-related challenges, why force himself into a type of relationship that he knows won’t last?

Romance, too, feels like one of the mechanisms by which a dangerous trans body can be rendered more acceptable to cis folks, in the same way it sanitises his equally-threatening bisexuality. If queers are holding hands and exchanging rings, just like cis and heterosexual couples, they’re safe.

He wants to be normal, but not that normal.

Melanie surprises him again by nodding. Opaque red only colours the corners of her lips; the worn centres reveal the brownish-pink beneath. “Like how we now don’t assume everyone’s—what’s the fancy word you use for not being you?”

“Cis. Yeah.”

“At my first job, I never dared yeah my elders. Can I ask what’s this a-sexual thing? Not-sexual? That’s a thing that can go with your a-ro-manti-cism? Am I saying it right? Is that something people can be?” Melanie grabs the volunteer’s vacated chair and wheels herself up to Rowan’s desk. “Tell me about this. Please.”

Damien gives a theatrically deep sigh, winks at Rowan and turns back to his keyboard.

Rowan’s tangle of feelings bewilders him too much to be simple relief, but he doesn’t appear to be at immediate risk of losing his job.

***

“We need to have a meeting!” Melanie announces ten days later, striding up to where Damien peers over Rowan’s shoulder to approve the touch-ups on a series of scanned photos. Rowan grasps the want to have a section on the website showcasing past events, but surely Damien’s film-camera predecessors weren’t all unable to take decent pictures? “Today. Perhaps before lunch?”

“Do we?” Damien doesn’t bother to turn his head. “What’s the number on the urgency scale, remembering that whiteboard markers aren’t a five?”

“I’m aro-ace.” Melanie stresses the words, beaming with the confidence of a child presenting a new finger-painted masterpiece. “I didn’t know, but I definitely am. I’m aromantic and asexual.”

“I’m glad for you.” Now Damien faces her, scratching his shock of unruly brown hair. “I don’t know why this needs a meeting? Do you want something addressed?”

Rowan leans back in his chair, too startled to do anything but watch. Melanie’s interrogation of him about all things a-spec over the last few days left him certain that she was questioning, but he didn’t expect this announcement—or Damien’s reaction to it.

“I’ve been reading, and I sent around a list of links everyone else should read, too. We must do something about our website. And, of course, everyone should know I’m aro-ace, and then let people ask any questions. Then we should consider changes to our submission forms, and then...”

Already, Melanie has done more to integrate her identity into the office and its projects than Rowan ever dared risk. Why, then, does he feel as though he’s being pressed inside a metal suit three sizes too small? Shouldn’t the end result be worth enduring a staff meeting in which she announces she’s aro-ace? Melanie being Melanie, she’ll gladly answer questions about aromanticism. Doesn’t that give Rowan everything he wanted—ability to be out as aromantic but someone else’s dealing with allo nonsense?

Matt’s right.

Rowan’s just a coward.

Damien nods at Rowan. “What do you think about that?”

“Uh...” Rowan draws a delaying breath, fighting against a brain too bewildered to be useful in forming comprehensible speech. “Uh … you’d have to run form changes past someone higher up, wouldn’t you? We have to ask about everything else? But...”

He doesn’t name Melanie a friend, but fellow aromantics aren’t common enough that Rowan will reject a companion—even if they’re cis and have subjected him to half a year’s discomfort, anxiety and alienation. He slides his restless hands under his legs, biting his lip against the sickening realisation. Melanie’s enthusiastic fearlessness may make this office and program better for him as an aro, but how can it answer all the attitudes that made Rowan fear coming out in the first place?

If he’s a coward, doesn’t he have reason?

“We do need a meeting,” he says slowly, his heart pounding in his chest like blast beats in death metal. “On better integrating marginalised people into our office. Because the way you emphasise my pronouns, Melanie, or the way Shelby reassures me five times that I can correct her … that doesn’t make me feel safe. It makes me feel reminded. Different. Too visible. And that’s why...”

“You ended up standing on a desk?” Damien asks with the gruffness of a middle-aged cis man trying to sound gentle.

“Yeah,” Rowan mutters. “That.”

Melanie clasps her fingers to her lips. “Oh! I didn’t mean anything by it! I just wanted people to get it right!”

How many times has he suffered through well-meaning people explaining that in response to his saying that they made him uncomfortable? How many times has he heard people justify their actions as though good intent always mitigates bad impact?

“You’re … you’re still making this about you! The only answer I want or need from you is thanks for telling me, Rowan, I won’t do it again! That’s all! Not your reasoning, not this effort to justify! I want to know that you hear me, that you’ll acknowledge that your intent however good still made me come home crying from dysphoria, and that you’ll stop because I don’t want to put up with it anymore! That’s all!”

For the second time in less than a fortnight, a chilling silence envelops the office.

“We need a meeting,” Rowan says breathlessly, reminding himself that at least this time he isn’t standing on his desk, “discussing how to include marginalised people in our office. Discussing all the microaggressions. Maybe you need to find … educators, trainers who come in and do this. I don’t know. I’m just so tired of never feeling safe or normal, never feeling like I can say anything because this isn’t hate and at least you’re not my parents! Like I don’t ever get to have anything better!”

He stands up, unsure what to do past fetching himself a distracting cup of coffee.

Maybe, then, he’ll be able to survive the way Melanie looks at him—as though he just ran over her puppy.

She just came out, and he did run right over it.

“I’m sorry.” Rowan sags onto his chair, leaning forwards to grab his satchel despite the unpleasant giddiness. “I’m sorry. It’s wonderful, Melanie, that you now know who you are and that you can come out. And it’s amazing that you’re doing things already, when I needed like six months just to get used to my knowing I’m aro. I just...” He reaches inside the satchel and pulls out a rough oblong shape wrapped in white tissue paper. “Here. I’m sorry.”

He, an allo-aro man, screwed up an aro-ace woman’s coming out. Shouldn’t he know better? He wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to curl up in a ball and hide under his desk. Even now, when he’s trying to get what he needs as a trans man, he’s being the worst kind of aromantic!

Her lips pinched, Melanie takes the present in her hands, worrying at the top piece of tape with her long, pink nails.

“We’ll have a meeting.” Damien runs his hand through his hair as though he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I’ll talk to the heads about … sensitivity training, I suppose this also is. Would you be willing to write me an email outlining some of these behaviours and any ways we can make this office safer for you? Is that an appropriate thing to ask of you?”

“I don’t mind,” Rowan says. As long as he doesn’t go ignored, he’ll send a few emails—and he already has a few blog posts on which to draw. “Thank you.”

“Do you … want anything, now? To talk privately to me or anyone else? Or to a senior supervisor? Or someone with the government body? Can I do or arrange anything else?”

“Coffee. Please. And … and then to go back to fixing photos as though absolutely nothing happened because I don’t … do this sort of thing.” Rowan heaves a shaking sigh, pushing aside the thought that nobody can have failed to observe this. “Thank—thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

He notices Damien gesturing at Melanie, notices that Rowan’s aro flag mug leaves with both and returns a few minutes later—now distracting from the office’s musty odour with its rich bitterness. He takes a few sips, but only by throwing himself into his work can he survive the gibbering, chattering thoughts building into a crushing tsunami of what the hell. Why did he do that? Why—no. Photos.

The soft clunk of crockery hitting laminate makes him look up.

Melanie leans against the edge of Rowan’s desk, her hand resting atop her new orange, yellow, white and blue aro-ace flag mug. “I’m sorry. Thanks for telling me.” She draws a deep breath, tapping her nails against the rim. “I didn’t know I could … that there’s an explanation, until I read your booklet. It described me. Things I didn’t realise about me! Things I’d been feeling! But … I’ve been learning about things like micro-aggressions. I didn’t know I’d been doing them myself. I’m sorry. I’ll keep learning. And thank you for my cup.”

“I know,” Rowan says softly, thinking back to the day when he realised the words “aromantic” and “frayromantic” describe him. A belated voicing of confusion and alienation; the naming of a constant sense of difference from the world. Revelation, understanding, explanation. “I know. I’m sorry, too. I don’t like … scenes. Or asking people things. I’m an anxious coward. So it just...”

He waves his hands, trying to mime an explosion.

Melanie, wide-eyed, jerks her head. “I couldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t done it first—and I wouldn’t have known to say anything if you hadn’t! And you’re asking us to do things knowing that we don’t understand, which must be frightening at least. You’re brave. And you shouldn’t be sorry.”

Rowan stares at her, unsure what to say in response. Never has anyone in his life freely offered such a sentiment. Never has anyone offered him something so generous without subsequent critique of Rowan’s intolerance for and impatience with their struggles to deal with him, praise softening the following reproval.

Brave.

His throat tightens and his eyes blur.

“Would you work with me on a proposal to put together for the submission forms? Damien insisted that I work with you, if you want to.”

“Uh … yeah?”

Melanie grabs a stack of papers from her desk and a chair. “I’ve gone through the old forms and highlighted passages. Do you want to read through and see if there’s anything I’ve missed or anything that should be left?”

He nods and takes the papers. Is this an alternate universe, the world flung upside down? Or, if people possess a minimum of decency, can he make needed change by addressing his problems instead of letting everyone talk over him? Can he build a world where he doesn’t endure cis or allo microaggressions by believing that their inconveniences aren’t worth more than his discomfort?

If his co-workers doesn’t object to correction, if they’re willing to make changes and investigate training, is the problem one of Rowan’s overreaction?

Does that mean he can talk to Matt the way he spoke to Melanie and Damien?

“Is something wrong?” Melanie asks, frowning.

Rowan shakes his head and plucks a pen from his frayro mug. “No.”

For the first time in a long time, that’s mostly true.

[doomedandstoned]

Top 10 Albums Of The 2010′s

~By Calvin Lampert~

I think it is safe to say that underground metal has enjoyed a period of unprecedented growth and popularity in the last 10 years. But when I am saying this I am not only thinking about the heavy underground; those adherents of the Sabbath sound and this whole new wave of doom metal bands. I am thinking of the fact that (underground) metal has undergone a change in image, too.

Though frequently maligned as hipster bands (or metal for people who don't like metal), acts like Deafheaven have brought metal to a whole new audience and raised awareness of the genre as a genuine form of art that does not just exist for its own sake; that metal fans only go for gore, beer and self-referential horn-throwing. Not that Neurosis and Godflesh haven’t been ambassadors of this mindset for more than three decades already, but it feels that the understanding of metal as art seems to have finally broken through to an audience outside of the traditional metal subculture in the past decade.

I think it is in no small part thanks to some of the bands on this list I have assembled (though I may have forgone obvious picks like Alcest and Deafheaven for more personal choices). And in retrospect, it should’ve been a list of bands rather than records, as most of the artists on this list would’ve have had a claim to a spot on here, with any record they put out. Take that as a hurray for consistency. So, without further ado, my picks for the best and most remarkable records of the decade.

10. Akhlys – 'The Dreaming I' (Debemur Morti - 2015)

The Dreaming I by Akhlys

I can’t help but wonder if Naas Alcameth of AKHLYS (also of Nightbringer, Aoratos and Bestia Arcana) set out with the express intent to create what is essentially a nigh perfect atmospheric black metal record when he started working on The Dreaming I. It damn sure feels like, each strum, syllable, and beat sits at the right place; the pieces of this nightmarish puzzle fit with an unsettling ease.

Photograph by by Kuba Leszko

The sound really does justice to the underlying concept of dreams and nightmares, as you’ll rarely find a record with such an impenetrable atmosphere. Once you hit play you’re soon enveloped by countless layers of swirling guitars, all at the command of Naas Alcameth, and he seems hellbent on suffocating you with them. The Dreaming I is about as close as you can get sleep paralysis-made-music. If you put off black metal as spooky noise made by a bunch hooded esoteric nerds you might’ve found your match in Akhlys. They are just that, they’re dead serious, and the results are impressive.

9. Elephant Tree – 'Elephant Tree' (Magnetic Eye Records - 2016)

Elephant Tree by Elephant Tree

I’ve observed myself growing increasingly apart from most stoner rock as of late, sometimes even antagonizing the genre. I’m afraid I’m just burned out on it and grown embittered, so a record from those genres ending up on my Albums of the Decade list should give you a hint of just how special it really is.

That is not to say that there haven’t been some real stoner rock heavy hitters this decade, such as Gozus Revival, Valley of the Suns Sayings of the Seers or Lo-Pans Salvador, but there’s something to ELEPHANT TREE's self-titled record that just so narrowly sets it apart from the others.

Photograph by Phil Smithies

What that is I am still not quite sure, and I had my fair share of relistens. Maybe it is the tasteful balance act of the production that makes this record so wonderfully ethereal but also ridiculously crushing. Or the sleek as all hell songwriting where every hook fires but the flow remains impeccable. Or the gorgeous harmonic interplay of Jack Townley and Pete Hollands vocals. Or maybe really just the sum of it all.

Whatever it is, Elephant Tree get it so very right and it is a true joy to behold such a well-written and fine-tuned record in a genre that has become all too prone to shoddiness and idle Kyuss worship. If there is any justice in the world, Elephant Tree will be looked back as a classic of the genre.

8. Oranssi Pazuzu – 'Värähtelijä' (Svart Records/20 Buck Spin - 2016)

Värähtelijä by Oranssi Pazuzu

So many have tried to do it. Countless chonged out Hendrix worshippers. Australian neo-psych darlings. But they all failed. Turns out the holy grail of psychedelia was dug up by a bunch of dudes in the frozen wastes of Finland when they decided to throw together black metal and almost every imaginable psych rock permutation under the firmament. Absolute insanity inducing balls-to-the-wall trippiness ensues.

ORANSSI PAZUZU is their name, ego-death squared in hyperspace is their game and Värähtelijä is the latest in a slew of attempts to smear your brain across the event horizon, and their most accomplished one so far. Think Hawkwind trying to interpret the soundtrack of Interstellar with a guy being spaghettified by a black hole screaming on top of it. Huge, plodding riffs and spacey synth fuckery abound.

Film by Shelby Kray

This madness extends to their live shows, yours truly (being completely sober) suffered a sensory overload when they launched into the crescendo of the album opener "Saturaatio" at Roadburn 2016. This band is taking things to the next level, and something tells me that Värähtelijä is just another chapter in an increasingly maddening venture.

7. Conan – 'Blood Eagle' (Napalm Records - 2014)

You can’t really draw a picture of the doom scene in the '10s without CONAN. And I do mean that in quite the literal sense, as seemingly every self-respecting doom fan seems to own at least one Conan shirt and you can’t really go to a gig without seeing one.

By all accounts the band probably could’ve retired years ago and just live off those rad merch designs. But Conan knows no rest -- always writing, always touring, always scheming. Thus the band has fed a steady stream of releases to a cult-like following over the years and narrowing down the output of such an important band to just one record is no small task. My choice eventually fell on the fan favorite, 2014's Blood Eagle.

Photograph by Sally Townsend

Conan had already pretty much established themselves as the emergent sludge-doom act of the decade at that time, but as we know they’re not one to rest on their laurels and Blood Eagle was just them driving the point home and the stake deeper, solidifying a grasp on the scene that hasn’t waned ever since, and they did it oh so righteously, by the primordial might of tonal displacement and drop F glory.

Conan might have the closest thing to a universal doom appeal because they speak to your baser instincts. Songs like "Foehammer" or "Total Conquest" seem like trebuchets aimed at the synapses of your reptilian brain, and I can’t help but admire these noble DIY barbarians, who so deservedly have carved out their place in the canon of the genre.

6. SubRosa – 'More Constant than the Gods' (Profound Lore - 2013)

More Constant Than The Gods by SubRosa

SUBROSA was one of a kind. If one band calling it quits this decade broke my heart, it was them. But before doing so they gifted us three outstanding post-metal records, whose folk and chamber music flourishes felt completely unique, intimate, and anachronistic in a genre dominated by more vast and spacious narratives. They reached inward rather than outward and did so with a no-parts-wasted mentality.

In a world rife with one-trick bands, SubRosa's employ of multiple vocalists and two electric violins felt natural and unabashedly non-gimmicky, and they would reveal the true potential of their sound on 2013's harrowingly beautiful More Constant than the Gods.

Photograph by Alyssa Herrman

More Constant is remarkable for its elegant and restrained way of instilling dread. Hardly any harsh vocals, the tempo never goes beyond a steady stride, just those horrific and yet also beautiful violins, plodding guitars, and downright poetic lyrics. And SubRosa seem to feel right at home on either terrain, be it the skin-crawling lead guitar line of "Affliction" or the grandiose outro section of "Fat of the Ram." One can only hope that SubRosa will return one day. A band that was truly novel, and not just a novelty.

5. Tchornobog – 'Tchornobog' (Fallen Empire / I, Voidhanger - 2017)

TCHORNOBOG is many things. Among others, a dark, ancient Slavic deity. In the world of music, a monolithic amalgamation of extreme metal, some Eldritch chimera of cavernous black, death, and doom metal. And the beast of one Markov Soroka, though him stating that the Tchornobog inhabits his head begs the question who might really be in charge?

Photograph by Nona Limmen

Soroka does indeed seem to be guided by spirits since he started the project at the age 14, and eight years of gestation and arduous work culminated in one of the most engrossing, all-consuming records I have come across this decade. Far be it from me to reduce Tchornobog’s remarkability down to the young age of its creator, but Sorokas ambition and execution of those ambitions could run circles around a lot of veteran extreme metal bands. The man is just flat out talented. And that is not even taking his various other projects (Drown, Aureole, Krukh) into account, or his curation work through his own label, Vigor Deconstruct.

As such, Tchornobog ultimately is, among many other things, a bright spotlight shining on a young man who has all the makings of being the next big underground metal mastermind. I’m sure you’ll be inclined to agree as soon as Soroka brings out the grand piano and saxophone on "III: Non-Existence’s Warmth (Infinite Natality Psychosis)" to perform what I’d like to call Lovecraftian Lounge Music. He must have a thing for Demilich too, judging from those song titles.

4. Hell – 'III' (Lower Your Head / Pesanta Urfolk - 2012)

Hell III by Hell

There is a subtle power in melodies, particularly melancholic and sad ones. Doom, and more specifically funeral doom, have long since sought to harness the power of the melody, but I think nobody has been quite as effective or moved me so profoundly with a simple plucked melody as MSW, the singular mind of HELL.

Just one minute into Mourn, the opening (and penultimate) track of Hell III), I am already instilled with a deep sense of melancholy, but also foreboding doom. However, few songs can just thrive from having a good riff or lead -- and there’s 17 minutes yet to go. I’ll spoil you and say that in this time Hell shifts between doom, black metal, neoclassical music, and dark ambient. That’s a lot of territory to cover and it becomes apparent that for how meticulously well crafted its individual parts are, MSW never loses sight of the bigger picture and the transitions between these different sounds are seamless.

Film by Billy Goate

At the danger of sounding like a huge fucking nerd, I really am more inclined to refer to "Mourn" and its follow up "Decedere" as movements rather than songs and if the songwriting doesn’t clue you in you’ll be persuaded by the time Decedere breaks out the operatic vocals and a flute accompanied by a string ensemble. And no matter if he’s performing a contemplative acoustic piece or pounding you in the ground with some absolutely hellish (the band name is apt as can be) blackened doom, MSW always manages to maintain an aura of grandeur. MSW is not just a great songwriter, he’s a veritable composer, and III is his magnum opus.

3. Mizmor – 'Yodh' (Gilead Media - 2016)

Yodh by מזמור

If whatever has come before was bleak, then Yodh is pitch fucking black. This decade hasn’t lacked in dark records (not even taking metal into account -- Mount Eerie's A Crow Looked at Me, Nick Cave’s Skeleton Tree, or The Caretakers Everywhere at the End of Time), but taking on existential dread specifically (and thereby becoming a vessel for it) MIZMOR's Yodh remains unsurpassed in its sheer effectiveness to instill said dread in the listener and is possibly the most harrowing record of the last 10 years.

Photo by Kento Woolery

As befits the theme, Yodh genuinely sounds like the work of a broken man. A miserable slab of glacial funeral doom and grimy black metal, but delivered with a brute strength and conviction that really suggests more defiance than self-pity. I’d be remiss to not point out ALN's incredibly varied vocal performance, ranging from wretched snarls and air-starved bellows to what I can only describe as pterodactyl shrieks, all carrying the same biting vitriol as the instrumentals.

Film by Shelby Kray

Yet for all its doom and gloom, Yodh surprises with occasional moments of tenderness and outright (if melancholic) beauty, too, such as the acoustic intro of "II: A Semblance Waning" or the massive main riff of "III: The Serpent Eats Its Tail" that feels like the sort of thing Pallbearer would’ve come up with if they had been more into Mournful Congregation than Warning.

All these things combined with thoughtful, introspective lyrics make Yodh into an incredibly powerful and downright visceral record, and if for you the main draw of doom metal lies its emotional potency (as it does for me) then Yodh is an essential listen. Let ALN shout down the very pillars that uphold your personal beliefs of life’s meaning.

2. Pallbearer – 'Sorrow and Extinction' (Profound Lore - 2012)

Sorrow And Extinction by Pallbearer

Warning was the first band to try to bridge the gap between traditional and modern doom metal, and while Watching from a Distance might have a fair claim to be one of the saddest metal records out there, in my eyes it was PALLBEARER who took that formula even further and perfected it with their 2011 debut Sorrow and Extinction. To me, it’s a classic record in both senses. A landmark of post-millennium doom and a throwback to the days of yore, when Saint Vitus and Candlemass were in charge of bumming everyone out; while still maintaining the larger-than-life-feel and sonic heft of modern doom championed by bands like Yob or Neurosis.

Photo by Sally Townsend

But Sorrow and Extinction isn’t just some roided up epic doom sans the operatic vocals, Pallbearer are far too clever to suffer such a pitfall. Granted, Sorrow sounds huge, and while there’s plenty of the heavy stuff to go around what makes Sorrow so great is how catchy it is. There is no weak song on this record (admittedly there’s only five), and while most bands could only hope to one day write a riff as good as "Devoid of Redemption's" main theme, it seems like Pallbearer just comes up with them on a whim, and their ability to do so doesn’t seem to have faded three records into their career -- not even to speak of Brett Campbell's soulful lyrics and passionate delivery.

Film by Billy Goate

Then, of course, there’s the amazing guitar interplay between Campbell and Devin Holt, chiefly on the casket closer "Given to the Grave," whose second half essentially boils down to them constantly trading dramatic leads with each other like the world's most woeful ping pong game.

Sorrow and Extinction is not only a deeply moving yet utterly anthemic record, but also one that successfully marries the past and the present of doom. In that regard, it is a preciously rare and so far unsurpassed record.

1. YOB – 'Clearing the Path to Ascend' (Neurot Records - 2014)

Clearing The Path To Ascend by YOB

Writing about metal without resorting to superlatives is hard. Try to practice restraint in the presence of something whose very nature lacks restraint. I am definitely guilty of that lack of restraint; one has only got to scroll up again to confirm it. But luckily some records are so very superlative that I do not have to take that editorial high road and can fire all the “mosts” and “-ests” at will. In fact, they almost require you to use them. Clearing the Path to Ascend by YOB is one such record. Even among all these preceding superlative records it stands above and beyond.

Photo by Angelique Le Marchand

Clearing the Path to Ascend is so vast, it feels singular. It is one and it is all. When I think larger-than-life sound, Clearing comes to mind first. It has become the very benchmark with which I measure other records. Yob's big and beautiful only consists of four tracks, but they made each feel like a distinct part of a greater journey. "In Our Blood" opens with a recording of Alan Watts telling you it is "time to wake up," before the song slowly rises into a stretched-out draw and crash, eventually unfurling into a manic guitar line.

"Nothing to Win" feels like Yob's own take on Neurosis’ Through Silver in Blood. It is an unrelenting, steady 11-minute march down a highway of broken glass, utterly windswept and viciously hopeless. "Unmask the Spectre" seems to tread similarly bitter paths but manages to wrestle itself free into two grandiose spiraling crescendos.

Film by Billy Goate

The death knell of an album closer that is "Marrow" shouldn’t really need much of an introduction at this point. It still feels like I’ll see a link, post or share of it every other day. It has become an omnipresence in the doom scene, and deservingly so. Yob dials back on the gloom and shines all the brighter. "Marrow" is not just hopeful; it is downright ecstatic and by the time Mike Scheidt launches into the grand solo of the track (so very gracefully accompanied by a Hammond organ played by producer Billy Barnett) has ascended to a genuine sermon.

Though Clearing had its fair share of dark moments "Marrow" closes the record on a remarkably conciliatory note and I really think that speaks of Yob as a (metal) band. Call it a big move to offer closure -- a fitting end to such a big record. One that suits the title of ‘Album of the Decade,’ and embodies the spirit of metal that wants to be just more.

Calvin's Choice: 100 Best of the Decade

YOB - Clearing the Path to Ascend

Pallbearer - Sorrow and Extinction

Mizmor - Yodh

Hell - Hell III

Tchornobog - Tchornobog

SubRosa - More Constant Than The Gods

Conan - Blood Eagle

Oranssi Pazuzu - Värähtelijä

Elephant Tree - Elephant Tree

Akhlys - The Dreaming I

Clutch - Earth Rocker

Merkstave - Merkstave

Gozu - Revival

Chelsea Wolfe - Pain Is Beauty

Valley of the Sun - The Sayings of the Seers

Inter Arma - Paradise Gallows

Thou - Heathen

Om - Advaitic Songs

Bell Witch - Mirror Reaper

All Them Witches - Dying Surfer Meets His Maker

Horn of the Rhino - Weight of Coronation

Boss Keloid - Melted on the Inch

KALEIKR - Heart Of Lead

Jeremy Irons & The Ratgang Malibus - Spirit Knife

Woman is the Earth - Torch of Our Final Night

Weyes Blood - Titanic Rising

LINGUA IGNOTA - Caligula

Queens of the Stone Age - ...Like Clockwork

Messa - Feast for Water

Anna von Hausswolff - Dead Magic

Mamiffer - The World Unseen

Samothrace - Reverence to Stone

Primitive Man - Scorn

Fórn - The Departure of Consciousness

Khemmis - Absolution

Bongripper - Miserable

High on Fire - De Vermis Mysteriis

UN - Sentiment

Cult of Luna - Mariner

Slomatics - Future Echo Returns

MISTHYRMING - Söngvar elds og óreiðu

Dvne - Asheran

Earth - Primitive and Deadly

Mars Red Sky - Apex III (Praise For The Burning Soul)

The Midnight Ghost Train - Cypress Ave.

Panopticon - Panopticon - Roads to the North

Mare Cognitum - Phobos Monolith

Sólstafir - Ótta

Have a Nice Life - The Unnatural World

Furia - Księżyc Milczy Luty

Tardigrada - Emotionale Ödnis

Yellow Eyes - Immersion Trench Reverie

Stoned Jesus - Seven Thunders Roar

Höstblod - Mörkrets Intåg

Ulver - The Assassination of Julius Caesar

Zola Jesus - Okovi

Funereal Presence - Achatius

Wormlust - The Feral Wisdom

Daughters - You Won't Get What You Want

L'Acephale - L'Acéphale

40 Watt Sun - The Inside Room

Vilkacis - Beyond the Mortal Gate

Bossk - Audio Noir

Carpenter Brut - Trilogy

Sumac - What One Becomes

Death Grips - Exmilitary

Red Fang - Murder the Mountains

Lo-Pan - Salvador

Whores. - Gold

Truckfighters - Universe

Greenleaf - Trails & Passes

Bölzer - Aura

Monolord - Vaenir

Dead to a Dying World - Elegy

The Body - I Shall Die Here

Mutoid Man - War Moans

Neurosis - Fires Within Fires

Opeth - Pale Communion

Planning for Burial - Below the House

Triptykon - Melana Chasmata

Graveyard - Hisingen Blues

Saor - Aura

Windhand - Grief's Infernal Flower

Egypt - Endless Flight

Emma Ruth Rundle - Marked For Death

Deafheaven - Sunbather

Kadavar - Kadavar

Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats - Blood Lust

Vanum - Ageless Fire

Dai-Ichi - Dai-Ichi

Lord Mantis - Pervertor

Ne Obliviscaris - Portal Of I

Loss - Horizonless

Tome of the Unreplenished - Innerstanding

Elder - Lore

Witch Mountain - Cauldron of the Wild

Ahab - The Giant

Alcest - Kodama

The Dillinger Escape Plan - Dissociation

Sleep - The Sciences

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 19

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: swearing

Serendipity Masterlist

The car finally stops in a secluded area. I'm not familiar with our location. Then again, it's night so I probably wouldn't recognize where we were anyway. When Colby asked me to explore with him and Sam, I didn't think they would be this secretive about where we were going or what we were doing. The only thing I know is that I was asked if I would be busy today and tomorrow. It wasn't even until this morning that I was told to wear something warm. It took hours to find something warm that was also comfortable to wander an undisclosed location. Most of my clothes are packed away. We move in a few weeks and it's not cold enough for me to keep my really warm clothes out.

Sam and Colby finish setting up the camera on the dashboard. They talk for a few minutes before Sam turns on the camera.

"What's up, guys! It's Sam and Colby." Colby shouts from the driver seat.

"Today we are going to explore Angeles National Forest with Isabella Rose." Sam points to me in the backseat. I do a little wave to the camera.

"How are you feeling Iz?" Colby ask.

"A little sleepy. It was a long drive." I yawn.

"I don't think you're going to be tired after I tell you this. So I did a bit of research on this forest and apparently in 2002 about 20,000 acres of the forest burnt down in a wildfire. When they were investigating the fire, it was discovered that the fire was set by a cult doing animal sacrifices. Now, it's unsure if they meant to light the forest on fire or what. People have also walked into the forest never to be seen again. Some people say they see the ghost of an animal or the ghosts of lost travelers. At the summit, you can see shadow figures."

"Excuse me, what? I was told none of this." I shot from the back.

"Awake now?" Colby teased.

"I mean, you just said that there is a chance we may not be able to come out alive tonight. So, of course, I'm awake now."

"We're going to be fine. What's your stance on ghosts?"

"I believe they exist, just not in the way we perceive them to be."

"We'll see tonight if your hunch is true," Sam says before shutting off the camera.

We all climb out of the car. I retie my shoes and fix my new XPLR hoodie and gloves. I stand up and close the door. I turn around while putting on my backpack Colby is in front of me holding a beanie. He places the beanie on my head.

"I don't want you to get cold."

"I'm going to get hot while we walk with all the layers I'm wearing."

"You're always hot, babe." Colby has a stupid grin on his face. I playfully push him.

Sam calls us over and Colby and I walk towards him. Sam turns on the camera. All three of us start walking into the forest.

"Colby, pass out flashlights in case we get separated."

"I don't want to get separated," I say sheepishly.

"Both of you need to calm down. We'll be fine." Colby says as he passes out the flashlights.

"You know who says that? The guy who gets killed first in a horror film." I pout as I turn on my flashlight.

"Well, just in case something does happen, meet at the car." Sam walks backward to get both Coby and me in the frame.

"Everything is going to be fine," Colby says before patting me on the head.

****

We've been exploring for what seems like forever. The empty forest doesn't seem as scary as it did before. It may have to do with the fact that we've been cracking jokes. The boys plugged their merch a few times too. There have been a few times where we turned off our lights when we heard strange noises.

"I hate to be that bitch but we've been walking for hours and if we don't take a break soon we're going to have a problem," I complain. Sam turns the camera back on and faces it at himself.

"Alright guys, we've been walking for a while. Since there's not a specific place to go to, I think its time for surprise number 2. Here, take this." Sam passes the camera to Colby and his flashlight to me.

I watch as Sam pulls out a familiar brown box.

"You fucking brought the ouija board? I thought you two got rid of it." I say stepping back a bit.

"I thought so too, but I guess we didn't." Colby has the camera on me as I hand Sam his flashlight back.

"Well, I'm not touching it. Have fun with— What was that?" I'm cut off by the sound of something hitting the ground hard.

"Pinecones?" Colby suggests.

"These aren't pine trees, babe," I say pointing my light up. Another loud sound appears near us.

"They're rocks," Sam says pointing his light on a rock.

"Flash your lights around us," Colby commands. We shine our lights in the perimeter surround us but nothing but the thick forest can be seen.

"Turn your lights off and run," Sam whispers. Immediately we shut our lights off and begin sprinting.

Walking through the forest with our lights was hard enough. Trying to run the same path without any guides is worse. We passed a ledge to get here and now I'm scared one of us is going to fall off of it.

My foot hits something and causes me to lose my balance and my flashlight. I notice something that I didn't before, its quiet. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing. I don't know when but I lost Sam and Colby. I strain my ears hoping to hear them in the distance but I don't. I pat the ground and look for the flashlight. After grasping at the dirt and leaves my hand wraps around the cool metal. I try to turn it on but it refused to light. Not only did I lose Sam and Colby, but I also don't have a flashlight. I left my phone in the car because I thought it would be better. I am a complete dumbass.

I search my backpack for anything that could help. My fingers brush my vlog camera that I know has a light attached. I swap the camera and the flashlight and put my backpack back on. I fumble around with the buttons to turn the light on and the camera. I manage to get them both on and set the camera to the light to the lowest setting so I don't track attention. I face the camera toward me.

"Hey, guys. I'm hoping that Sam and Colby aren't pranking me right now because I'm absolutely terrified. You're both in deep shit if this is a prank. Just in case this is real and I die I'm just going to explain what just happened." I start walking a bit. Maybe I stumble onto the path that leads back to the car where hopefully are where Sam and Colby are.

"By the way, if I die and Sam and Colby live and find this footage, you have all my permission to use this in the video. Anyway, what basically happened is that I was invited to go on an exploring video with Sam and Colby. I wasn't told what exactly we were going to be doing or where we were going. I honestly thought we would get to go to a hotel because that is safer and there is a bed to sleep on." I look at the ground to make sure I don't fall down the shortish drop near me.

"Jokes on me because dumb and dumber bring me to a haunted forest where apparently lots of people died. We were hiking for over an hour without anything really happening. That's when Sam brings out the fucking ouija board that I thought I watched Colby throw away when I was helping him pack. Suddenly, rocks are falling or being thrown at us or whatever so Sam suggests that we turn off our lights and run. And then I fell and broke my flashlight and realized that I'm alone in a forest without my phone. And here we are." I play with the light so that the camera is still on me but the light is faced in front of me. Some of the light pokes through the back and lights my face up a little bit.

I pause for a second to see if I can hear anything. We can't be that far apart. Hopefully, Colby would have noticed that I wasn't with them sooner than I did. Or maybe it would take him longer because Sam is with him and he'll think I'm with them. Maybe they're already at the car and waiting for me meet them there.

The more time I spend alone the more scared I get. I almost don't want to walk because I'm just waiting for something to jump out at me. I take little steps and call out for Sam and Colby every few steps. Suddenly there's a high pitched scream. My first instinct is to run. Because I don't know where the noise came from I run to my left. All is well until the half-second when I couldn't feel the ground under my foot. It's not until I hit the ground I realize what's happened. I fell over the weird ledge that I spent most of the night avoiding.

"Samuel! Cole! This isn't fucking funny anymore!" I shout trying to get up. A sharp pain shoots up my right leg as I put my foot down. I lean on the wall and grab the camera that remains in perfect condition.

"Izzy! Isabella! Where are you?" I hear Colby shouting from above.

"I'm down here!" I use the camera light to try to get their attention.

"Oh dude, look over there." Says Sam. A few seconds later I see Sam and Colby's heads peek over the edge with their lights pointed at me. I have to squint to be able to see them.

"Are you okay?" Colby's voice is lowered again.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just stuck." I bend the truth a little bit. There's no need to stress them out more.

"Sam, hold my feet," Colby says as he lays down. He's only partly over the edge but enough so that I can grab his arms. I wait until they're ready before slowly climbing up until Colby can pull us both up.

Colby engulfs me into a hug as soon as we're both get back on our feet. I hug him back and don't let go for a while.

"Thank God you screamed. We wouldn't have been able to find you otherwise." Sam says to break up the lovefest. I pull away from Colby and give Sam a puzzling look.

"I didn't scream. I thought maybe one of you two did..."

"Do you honestly think that one of us can scream that high pitched?" My eyes dart between Sam and Colby unsure if they're telling the truth.

"If you guys didn't—" I'm cut off by an out of place female giggle.

"I found you..." an unrecognized female voice appears from the distance. I feel the blood drain from my face.

"Run. Now." Sam says yet again. This time Colby grabs my hand as we start to run. Even though my ankle is hurting I can't stop now. The pain seems the dull the more we run.

I can hear footsteps following behind us. Ahead of us, I can see the trees becoming less and less dense. We must be getting close to the car. Colby's grip tightens around my hand as he runs faster.

I see a hint of red in the distance. It grows bigger the closer we get.

"Colby, unlock the car!" I yell. Colby lets go of my hand the second we hit the pavement and runs over to the driver side. All three of us throw ourselves in the car in nearly perfect unison. I hear the doors lock over our heavy breathing.

"What are you doing? Start the car." Sam says panicked.

"Dude I'm trying! Now is not the time for the car to breakdown." Colby tries starting the car a couple of times before it finally starts. He quickly drives away from the forest.

"Yo... what... the fuck was that?" Sam says panting. I see the camera sat on the dashboard.

"We almost died is what happened," I say as I try to put my seat belt on.

"Everyone one okay? Izzy, you good?" I make eye contact with Colby in the rearview mirror.

"I'm okay, just got some cuts and bruises. Still trying to process what happened. Are you sure this isn't a prank."

"If this was a prank, then why would we continue after you fell? Are you sure you didn't scream?" Sam brings up.

"Positive. I didn't scream but it was so close to me that I fell back in fright and that's how I fell. I have proof."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I still see the concern in his eyes.

"Yes, babe. How about this, I'll tell you the second I don't feel good." I say leaning back into my seat. Colby nods his head and presses his lips.

"Colby, pullover really quick so we can film the outro," Sam says to change the subject. Colby pulls over and Sam repositions the camera.

****

We've been sitting in the car for who knows how long. Colby has music playing quietly in the background low enough for him and Sam to talk over and for me to sleep if I wanted. But I can't sleep. About twenty or so minutes after we pulled over to film the outro the adrenaline completely wore off and I began to feel every bit of pain on my body. Various parts of my body ache, letting me know that I'm going to be sore for a while. But the most intense pain is coming from my right leg. The pain that I felt when I fell has spread up my leg. My leg started throbbing not that long ago. The pain is unbearable. I've sat for as long as I could, holding my head with my arms resting on my thighs. I feel a familiar sensation in my stomach and salty taste in my mouth.

"Colby, pull over," I say softly hoping to not get sick in the car. I feel Colby continuing to drive.

"Colby," I lift up my head and speak louder, "can you please pull over?"

"What? Why? What's wrong?" Colby questions while still pulling over. As soon as the car stops I swing open the door and limp as quickly as I could far enough away so that the guys couldn't hear me throw up. I couldn't walk without holding anything for support.

After emptying the contents of my stomach, I limp back into the car. I sit down and grab my water from earlier and try to wash my mouth out.

"Are you okay?" Sam ask after I close the door.

"Ye—"

"Why were you limping?" Colby cuts me off and turns around in his seat.

"My leg hurts. I might have sprained it." Colby looks into my eyes and then turns on his phone light.

"Let me see." He shines the light at my feet. I slowly pull up my right let to reveal a very swollen and bruised ankle.

"Oh shit," I mumble under my breath.

"Isabella, why didn't you say anything?" Colby asks while taking his seat belt off. I watch as Colby gets out of the car and heads to the trunk.

"Did that happen when you fell?" Sam asks.

"Maybe. I'm not entirely sure."

Colby enters the car on the opposite side of me and sits down. He has his red first aid kit in his hands. He gently picks up my leg and places my foot on his lap. He carefully takes off my shoe and only stops when I wince. He eventually pulls off my shoe to reveal the darkish bruising a little bit lower.

"It doesn't feel as bad as it looks..." I mumble.

"Oh really?" Colby barely touches it and I yelp in pain.

"Not fair, all fresh bruises hurt when touched." I watch as Sam and Colby share a look.

"I'll wrap it for now but I think it's broken. Sam?"

"Already on it." Sam is back facing forward and on his phone.

"Broken? Badly sprain, yeah, but it can't be broken."

Colby ignores me and gently wraps my foot. I watch as his jaw clench and unclench. He quickly finishes wrapping my foot and grabs my chin and turns my face to the side.

"And you were bleeding." Colby digs back into the bag and pulls out a tube, a bottle, and some gauze.

"What? Since when?" I reach up and touch my cheek to find crusted blood and a cut.

"This is going to hurt," Colby says seconds before she touches the pad to my face with something that makes the cut sting. I bite my lip to stop from crying out or screaming.

He finished doing cleaning and patching up my face and closes the first aid kit. He places it by my foot and slams my door shut. He makes his way back to the driver seat and hands me a water bottle and gum. I take them and Colby puts his seatbelt on and starts driving.

"If you're making us go to the emergency room at this time can we at least drop Sam off at the house so he can sleep?" I plead.

"It's fine. Colby might need me to drive back for him anyway. Izzy, worry about yourself for once."

****

"Well, bad news: it's broken. Good news: it's not severe enough to need surgery. The swelling has also gone down a lot so we can put your cast on now. Why don't you choose a color and I'll be right back." The doctor hands me a ring with plaster colors on it.

The doctor leaves and I turn to Colby who is standing next to me. He still hasn't said a word to me since he found out I got hurt. He only came in a few moments before the doctor did. I texted him to come back to the room after I had my testing.

"Why haven't you said anything?" I asked as Colby sits down.

"I didn't want to fight in front of Sam." He says, cooly.

"We're fighting?" I watch as Colby fidgets in his chairs trying to avoid eye contact.

"No, but we might. I'm really upset."

"With me?" Colby finally looks me in the eyes. He hesitates for a second.

"Yes, actually. I'm only a little bit mad at you."

"Why are you a little mad at me? I'm the one who broke a bone."

"That's exactly why, Isabella. I'm mad that you got hurt. I'm mad you didn't say anything when I asked you if you were okay three times. And I'm mad that I even put you in danger for a video."

"So, it's okay when you and Sam put yourselves in danger every week for your videos then?"

"That's not what we're talking about right now. Don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry. None of this is your fault. You asked if I wanted to go on an exploration with you and Sam. and I said yes. I could have said no but I wanted to go. Things don't always go as planned but we're okay. How were you and Sam supposed to know that there was an insane chick in the forest at the same time we were going?"

"You're right. There's one thing I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"...I didn't say anything after I fell because there was no point in telling you in the middle of the forest. I didn't say anything after we ran because it didn't hurt. I didn't say anything in the car because I thought it was a sprain and I could take care of it when we got home. I also was trying so hard not to ruin your video."

"Isabella..." Colby pauses and looks at me. "I wouldn't have cared if you 'ruined' our video. Sam and I would have figured something out or put 'gone wrong' in the title. What's most important is your safety. I mean, our safety is important too, but you were a guest and my responsibility. I love you and I just don't like seeing you put so much pressure on yourself or hurt."

"I love you too, Colbs." Colby comes closer and kisses my forehead.

****

After what felt like two hours, the three of us drove back to the trap house. We were all hungry so I mad Colby stop at a drive-through. I argued with both Sam and Colby and eventually, I won and paid for the food. It's the least I could do for them for taking me to the hospital. I know it was only common human decency, but I still feel bad about it. We all decided to take the food home. We sit out in the living room and talk about everything, still trying to process it.

"Oh yeah, before I forget. Sammy, here take this." I pull my vlog camera out of my backpack and toss it at him.

"What's this?" He asks while popping a fry in his mouth. He wipes his hand on his pants before he picks up my camera.

"I filmed a bit when we got separated. You can take some of the footage if it helps the video." I take a bite of a fry and drink my milkshake.

"This girl, even when she's in danger she thinks of others," Colby says while playfully ruffling my hair.

We finish eating and talking before the three of us head upstairs and went to bed. Colby helps me change into comfy clothes to sleep in. He climbs in ask he helps me in and cuddles me tight. Like I'll disappear if he lets go.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Stitched Up Heart – Out of the Darkness

Dead Rhetoric: Do you feel that releasing all of the songs on a monthly basis has given the album the support you were hoping for?

Mixi: To be honest, I have no idea what the sales look like now.  It’s hard to compare because I have no idea what it would be if it was released all at once.  The one thing I do like about it, is that it keeps momentum going.  Instead of giving everyone the whole thing at once, you get a taste every month or so.  You aren’t just throwing everything out that you have, and people’s attention spans are so short these days.  I just feel that this is the way the rock industry is going to start moving – I think singles in general.  I think the whole musical world is going to turn into a singles world instead of albums, just because of the way that the streaming situation is.  But that’s just what I believe.  Who knows what will happen?  We were just trying to be innovative and try something new.

Dead Rhetoric: I can completely agree with that.  There’s a lot of bands that are going towards more EP-type approaches, where they can put out 4 songs and maybe even just do that twice a year in some cases.  It keeps you more in the loop.

Mixi: It took us three years to release new music.   We are probably going to continue to do it somewhat like this.  We’ll see how exactly it goes down, but I have a feeling that it is doing well.  Obviously, our first week sales are going to be a lot different as well.  But first week sales on any album in the industry today is a lot more difficult too.  We’ll see what happens [laughs].

Dead Rhetoric: You had over 70 songs written for Darkness.  What became the guideline as to what made a song one that you could work with versus one that was cut?

Mixi: We really wanted to evolve and grow.  In the beginning, we really threw paint in opposite directions.  From super, super heavy to super, super poppy.  It was probably more than half way through the writing process when we realized that this was working.  Lyrically, I changed what I felt that I wanted to say.   Originally, I wanted this album to be all about strength, power, and hope, like “You can do it,” you know?  The lyrics weren’t coming out completely authentically because deep down inside, I am a little girl [laughs].  I had stuff that I had to go through to make me feel strong. I found that writing the dark and the light together again was where I felt I could be the most authentic and real.  

When it came to the music and sound, in the end, we finally dialed in where we wanted to go and the producer that we wanted to do it with.   For us, the producer that we end up going with ends up kind of being the icing on the cake when it comes to the music.  Never Alone was Mitchell Marlow, who I am actually going to be writing with next week. You can hear a different quality in producing versus Matt Good, who produced Darkness.  They are two totally awesome producers, but also totally different and unique in their own way.  They kind of turn into an extra band member.  Out of the 70 songs we wrote, in the end, we used the last 11 or 12 that we wrote.  We didn’t use more than two of the songs that we wrote previously.  It was the last bunch that we ended up using for the record.  

Dead Rhetoric: Was there anything you took away or learned from Never Alone that you wanted to do differently this time around?

Mixi: I think that we did pretty good in finding a good guideline [with Never Alone], but I don’t want any album to sound the same.  We built a radio world with Never Alone, and we wanted to explore more on the artsy side of things with Darkness and see what happens.  With Never Alone, we learned what a radio chart was – it was our first album with a label and a booking agent.  We were really like a ‘baby band.’  We had been doing everything on our own before then.  So I wouldn’t say there was anything we would do differently because I’m very proud of that album.   But we just wanted to change it up and not write the same exact record. We are already working on thoughts and ideas for the next album, because we don’t want there to be such a gap.

Dead Rhetoric: Is there a song that you feel sticks out, or you personally identify with on Darkness?

Mixi: Every single one of them, but I think “Warrior” is one of my favorites.  “Problems,” “Darkness,” “Lost” are all some of my favorites.  I’m really very proud of this record.  As far as lyrically, for me, I really tried to dig as possible and “Darkness” is probably the deepest I got, in terms of the content of the song.  I really can’t pick a favorite, but for now I’ll say “Warrior.”

Dead Rhetoric: How important is the band’s relationship with fans – do you feel that the interactions has led you to a more devoted fanbase and larger following?

Mixi: I think it’s changed a little bit over time.   When we first started touring, we would be out watching the shows and the other bands, hanging out in the audience front-and-center, hanging out with people the whole time, and then going to people’s houses and hanging out there until whenever.  We were a lot more social, but as time goes on and touring happens – you get tired and things can get a little more dangerous.  You kind of have to be a bit more careful as the fanbase grows.  We’ve realized that we can’t always be out at the shows.  There’s been a few scary situations.  We try to be as connected as possible without putting ourselves into a situation that would be unsafe.  But I definitely think that when bands are connected to their fans, and are available for them to reach out to at any point, to where there’s a level that fans feel more connected, they want to stick around longer.  They aren’t so different.

Dead Rhetoric: With safety, I don’t think anyone is going to argue that point.  As you get bigger as a band, there’s more exposure and for lack of a better term, there’s a lot of creepy people out there.

Mixi: [Laughs] Yeah, the bigger the band gets, it gets harder.  It’s tougher to give all of the attention to everybody too.  I would still come out to the merch tables and try to meet everyone but one person would cut like, and I had no control, and then someone wants to talk for an hour while the next one is waiting, and I wouldn’t know what to do.  We have found that doing the VIP thing is better to filter people out – people that really want to meet the band and want a guarantee to meet us and hang out.  It also helps the band afford to be able to keep touring.

Dead Rhetoric: What have been some of your favorite touring experiences?  Do you feel you learn something new each time you go out on the road with different bands?

Mixi: Oh yeah, absolutely.  I think the Godsmack tour and the Halestorm tour were probably the biggest learning experiences for us.  We had never been on an arena tour before.   Halestorm took us out on our first arena tour and it was just like, what we got a taste of it, “Wow!”  There’s so much that goes into it, and so much to learn.  You try to soak up everything that you can.  But everything is a learning experience though.  We learn a lot of what not to do [laughs], and I think that’s why bands progress and grow.  We tried to learn from what we did right and wrong in the last run, and try to fix it in the next tour so we can get better and grow.  We’ve learned a lot from those bigger tours.

Dead Rhetoric: You’ve toured with a number of various musical bands on tour, do you feel that Stitched Up Heart has an advantage in that regard?  It seems like you are pretty malleable as a group, where you can do a tour with Godsmack or Lacuna Coil, or you can do Steel Panther or Sebastian Bach.

Mixi: It’s really interesting, because I don’t think the active rock radio genre has really hit the market or ‘80s hair metal, or the mix in-between very much.  The response we got from the Steel Panther fans was a surprise.  We didn’t think anybody would latch onto us, because our music isn’t really like theirs.  But with the show, they were really so excited and it went over so well, that when the Sebastian Bach tour [offer] happened, we’ll see how his fans go – but so far, I think we can try different genres and see what happens.  I mean, how many times can you go out with the same band?  We are trying to do something different, as you can tell, we like to do that a lot.

Dead Rhetoric: You’ve also made a lot of connections with other bands out on the road – does that networking aspect help among bands?

Mixi: It is huge.  To build relationships, in general, with everyone.  There’s so many bands that I look up to, and we are doing a bunch of festivals soon.  I just can’t wait!  I want to meet everyone.  But building relationships is such a big deal – be it with bands, radio stations, our fans and followers.  It’s important.   It’s probably the most important thing – to build big, genuine relationships.

Dead Rhetoric: Patreon is a platform that more bands are doing, but there was some pushback when it first started.  How do you feel that you’ve benefitted from it?

Mixi: Well, I met you [laughs]!  I definitely wouldn’t know you so well [without Patreon].  Behind the scenes, you can go out of your way to ensure that they [supporters] are happy and you can go out of your way to give them a little extra little things that you can’t do with the usual person who watches your social media or Spotify.  There’s t-shirts, paintings, handwritten lyrics, Skype hangouts – it’s definitely helped to grow this family that supports and helps each other.  Again, it helps the people that really, truly care – I feel like I can go to them with any concerns or what I’m feeling any day and just tell them and it will be totally fine.  They aren’t going to judge me like the rest of the social media world would.  They really, really care.  

Also, when it comes to the money – musicians don’t make a lot of money, I feel that Patreon is such a huge movement for independent artists, or even artists like us who are on a label.  The music money goes to the label for paying for the albums.  When we go on tour, we make money.  When we get home, we are just sitting there, on our hands, like what do we do?  No musician wants to get a job delivering pizzas, which is what I have been doing for years and years before Patreon happened.  I’d go on the road and be a rock star, then come home and deliver pizzas.  It was just the worst!  You can’t keep a normal job when you are constantly touring.  I realized that Patreon has made me able to focus solely on music and art, and it has been amazing.  It also gives me time to do more volunteer work as wel.

Dead Rhetoric: I think there is a difference too – if you look at your Patreon compared to some others out there.  There’s a lot of focus on your end.  Not all of them have that same level of effort.   It’s a testament to what you do that you are able to grow with it as well.

Mixi: I don’t really know what other people do, but I like to be able to touch base with the secret groups every single day. I try to make sure that everyone hears from me at least once a month with the signed autograph things, but I really can’t compare since I don’t know what other people do.  But I’m glad that you think I do a good job, because I feel like I never really do enough.  You have no idea how grateful I am for it.  I think about it every day.  If I didn’t have this, I would be so bummed.  I want to make sure that everyone is happy, all the time.  Maybe that’s why there’s not too many people that every really leave my Patreon, they usually just drop down.  I hope that we’ve built a pretty decent community.

Dead Rhetoric: You just mentioned the volunteering piece.   You do a lot of work with animals – rescue kittens, horses and have the Filthy Animal clothing company, among other things. Is it important to give back?

Mixi: Absolutely – I feel like this world, if you are constantly taking, the world will take too.  It’s a balance.  When I do things to help the kittens, I feel like it helps me more than I am helping them.  Right now, it’s not really kitten season, and I’m bummed that I can’t bottle-feed.  It’s starting up soon, but I’ll be on tour most of the year.  But when I can between tours, it doesn’t even feel like volunteer work when you love it.  The horses – when the fires happened in Malibu I got kind of drawn into it.  They haven’t really needed my help much lately, so I feel I need to find more stuff to volunteer for until kittens are back in season.  I feel like doing stuff for others feeds your soul so much.  You get back way more than what you give.

Dead Rhetoric: At this point in your life, what does Stitched Up Heart mean to you?

Mixi: It is probably one of the most important things to me.  The band is on my mind constantly, 24/7.  I think about it all the time, and I don’t know what I would do without it.  It’s a top priority.

Dead Rhetoric: In looking at the cover for both albums, is there any connection with having birds on the covers of Never Alone and Darkness?

Mixi: Obviously, I love animals so I wanted to make sure that the artwork for Never Alone had animals on it.  It needed to be something that represented what the lyrical content was – hopefulness and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  All of that positive energy that was a part of that album. The doves being a very light representation of being able to break free through the window, with the darkness inside.  You are in the darkness and going into the light.  

With Darkness, I kept seeing crows everywhere.  I looked at it as a sign, and it would coincide with the doves.  I wanted it to be the opposite, where you are going back into the darkness again, but you aren’t as afraid.  It’s like the dark dove diving back into the clouds with the white background.  It’s like life, there’s ups and downs, tunnels and light.  The more you go through it the more you grow and learn.

Dead Rhetoric: You have some dates for the coming months already announced.  Is the plan for 2020 basically just to tour as much as possible?

Mixi: Yeah, lots of festivals, and lots of tours.   We are going to try to start writing more music, so that when this album comes out, we can keep a more consistent release time in the future.   We’re trying to keep things moving!

[lokilickedme]

Okay so I promised a bunch of pics from ScotFest 2018, and I’ve been stuck posting from my phone for the last two days so - sorry for the delay, but here we go with the good stuff.  It’s long, but stay with me, you’re gonna enjoy this mad trip.

First, let me say this.

FUUUUUCCCCCCCKK.  I knew I was gonna be having McClary flashbacks the whole time but it started out ridiculous and just got worse as the day went on.

The moment we pulled up the first thing that stepped into view was a dude in an anarchy tee shirt with a kilt and Docs and long black hair strutting down the sidewalk.  If Chem!Tom was Scottish...oh wait a sec, didn’t he say at some point that he was a bit, on his mother’s side?  Works for me.  So anyway, we arrive at ScotFest and walk the long way to the shuttle bus pick-up with a bunch of kilted guys and an elderly couple dressed in ancient clan clothing (they looked awesome).  And before we even get off the bus at the festival grounds, we’re blasted with bagpipe music as a full regalia marching pipe band parades past the entrance.  Something smells REALLY.GOOD. and off to the left of the entrance is a field where two Mol-pups are chasing sheep around while their shepherd whistles commands loud enough to split your head open.  Yep, McClary flashbacks, right off the bat.  And big Scottish athletes are throwing things that don’t look like they were meant to be thrown, though the biggest and most impressive athletes on the field are the females who are using pitchforks to hurl big bags of sand backwards over their shoulders over a bar that’s about 20 feet above their heads.  Big is looking at me like “What the hell, mom??” so I tell him the ancient Scots were farmers and they made games and competitions out of their farm chores.  He’s like “No, I mean why are you breathing so hard?”

No comment.  Did I mention that the females were really impressive?  Good start to the day.

So we move on past the games into the main festival area and everywhere are man-knees.  I’ve never really paid much attention to man-knees before, but to be honest they’re kinda...hot.  I don’t even know why.  And there were so many of them...hundreds and hundreds of man-knees on open display, it’s almost like I shouldn’t be looking but they’re RIGHT THERE all over the damn place and I feel like a pervert scamming peeks.  And calves.  Man calves.  Not normally a fan, but there were some good ones on display.

The first thing we did was hit the tribal music tent and it was over for me before it even got good and started...because on the stage inside the tribal music tent was THIS Scottish god:

Don’t worry, the picture quality will get better.  So we settle in to enjoy the music and this guy is eating up the stage and spanking the shit out of that drum, and then he starts blowing on a flippin’ didgeridoo (yeah, a nine foot long Australian horn, don’t ask me why but omg that man’s lung power was making the ground rumble under our feet and all I could think was how that skill might carry over, if you know what I mean).

Suddenly I’m really interested in nine foot horns.

A really cool thing about hitting the afternoon shows was the fact that you could go right up to the side of the stage and nobody cared.  So I did.

Physically painful, let me tell ya.  I could just almost look up his skirt.

That horn is vibrating the ground where I’m standing and I’m actually relieved when he switches back to the drum because all that vibration has shifted my panties about two inches to the left and it’s getting uncomfortable.  The drum isn’t much better though, and neither is the view from where I’m standing - he’s a big stout bull and I’m three feet away from him while he beats that drum to a whimpering death.  I could reach out and tickle his bare knee if I felt like getting divorced.

So I go back and sit with my guys again and he starts doing this:

KNEES.  I mentioned man-knees before, didn’t I?  Well here, have a pair.  I’ll post a video later of what he did to this poor little drum, and to his own thick neck - because I can’t even describe it, and you know words are my thing.  He played his freaking adam’s apple or something, I don’t even know.

There were actually two other musicians on the stage with him, but I sort of forgot they were there.

There were also lots of adorable father/son kilted combos present - and yep, a bagpiper rounds out the onstage trio.  But again...man knees.  The ones on the left specifically.

So the show ends after a lot of insane drumming, war cries, didgeridoo blowing, bagpiping, and a really nasty little ditty about a girl who’s been touched so much she’s smooth as a stairway bannister (followed by an anthem to an unhealthy relationship that proclaimed “I’d rather be drunk a thousand years than be sober one minute with you”).  Nice, guys.

As soon as their set is over we leave the tent to go wander around, but most everyone else stays because it is as hot as the freaking surface of the sun on this day and the tent is like an oasis on Mars - which means when the band comes out to let the next band hit the stage, we’re pretty much alone outside with the bull and his two stagemates (sorry backup drummer and bagpiper, you guys were awesome and I loved you but didgeridoo guy vibrated my panties two inches to the left, you know how it is).

Anyway, we’re outside at the merch tent and Husband is buying something and I look up and nearly slam bodily into this:

Drummer/didgeridoo guy.  I vaguely recall yelling to Husband during the deafening noise of the show that he looked like Aquaman, and when I end up face to face with him it’s confirmed.  I think it’s the cranky eyebrow.

I also get to ogle the piper’s bagpipes up close and personal, which was hard to do as didgeridoo guy - whose name is CJ - is standing right behind me while I ooh and ahh over this weird thing, and he’s laughing at me for reasons unknown:

Maybe it was the stupid comment I made about squeezing the bag?

And then the three of them pose for a pic:

Goobers.  At this point Little walks up to them and they all sort of huddle around him and start laughing (Little has light-blindness and has to wear special shades outside so he was half blind and I think he rammed right into the guy with the hat), so I hand my phone to Husband and go to get him.  When I get close, didgeridoo guy puts an arm the size of a tree trunk around me and hugs me up next to him while the other two are tickling Little.  Husband starts snapping pics with my phone, but no, I’m not sharing them because 1) my face, 2) Little’s face, 3) shellshock at being touched by this stud ox without having initiated it myself, and 4) the look on my face clearly says MY PANTIES ARE CROOKED AND HIS SWEAT IS SOAKING THROUGH MY SHIRT AND PHEROMONES PEOPLE OMG PHEROMONES I’M IN PAIN HELP I MAY BE PREGNANT

Yeah, he was drenched in sweat from jumping all over that damn stage schlepping a drum that probably weighed more than me.  My hand was on his back and it came away soaked.  You can consider that a euphemism if you want, it works both ways.

Also - red boots.  Urgh.  And then he goes like this:

Boy was solid as a whiskey barrel, let me tell you.  We came back later to listen to another band and he was out there again, and the girls from the face painting tent had lured him over and braided his hair.  He looked flippin cute.  And by cute I mean Jesus Wept.

So before this turns into an exclusive didgeridoo guy fest (too late, yeah I know) let’s move along to this fine specimen that I found at the blacksmith tent:

Ladies and gentlemen, meet King McClary’s work kilt.

Dude was nice from the front too:

Definitely an Auchinleck, for those of you familiar with The McClary Chronicles.  Check out the tattoo.  And he was making maille battle armor, which I got to touch.  It didn’t shift my panties quite as hard as the drums did, but there was definitely a quiver.

This guy was at the tent next door to the armor tent, making I dunno, bong pipes or something and he was hilarious:

And then there was this guy, listening to ballads in the historical folk music tent and looking all angsty and authentic, like his love just died of a fever and his crop failed so he joined a ships’ crew to find his fortune in a faraway land but the damn boat sank fifteen feet from shore and now he’s just fucking stuck in Scotland and contemplating becoming a villain:

And he was glaring at my child, I don’t know why.  Prissy prick.  I was hoping to see his dick but he was so anal he tucked his kilt under his ass from the front.  Definitely a villain.

After a couple of teary ballads about wailing winds and failed crops or whatever, I dunno, I wasn’t listening because I was too involved in trying to see Prissy Prick’s ballsack, we wander over to the Highland Dance competition and walk in on this:

We’re in there for all of about twelve seconds before Big starts giggling, then Little starts giggling, then I start giggling.  We promptly leave the Highland Dance competition tent, because these girls really worked hard and I don’t want to get arrested for being a dick.

We go watch the Mol-pups chase the sheep around, because nobody cares if you disrupt the proceedings in the middle of a field full of sheep.

And then we watch some more of the Highland Games, in which guys threw stuff while making the best faces I’ve seen since that time Husband wanted to try setting the mirror next to the bed:

Yeah, we giggled.

After that we went back to listen to some more music, because damn.  Scottish rock is da bomb.  Heard a punk band that Husband immediately fell in love with, so I guess we’re evensies on the lusting after Scottish musicians thing now:

Dude on the bagpipes grinned like that through the whole set, I think he was puffing something out of one of those tubes.

And then we walked out into the big freaking middle of about four billion of these:

Noisy effers.  And they don’t stop for anybody - we literally had to jump out of the way because when they paused in front of us, they went into this formation thing and backed up right into where we were standing.  Had to grab Little and yank him up off the ground before he was trampled by some dude wearing a dress and giving an octopus a blow job.

Turned to look at a woman sitting next to us a little later and watched her pull a dagger out of her sock and shine it on her kilt like she was getting ready to go assassinate someone in the crowd.  We left soon after, so I didn’t get to see it go down.  I hope it wasn’t the didgeridoo player, he was cute AF.

All in all it was an 11/12 day, marred only by the outrageous heat and the fact that I’ve been off my supplements and medications for a week in prep for surgery on Tuesday, so I was exhausted and my blood’s gone back to being water again.  We didn’t stay as long as we would have otherwise, but we had fun and experienced a lot of weirdness - I ate haggis on accident, Husband sat down with a plate and I thought it was meatloaf (it was good and I didn’t die, so bonus) - and I got to spend the day surrounded by all the clans that tried to assassinate Thomas The Fucking Marauder.

We’ll be going again next year.  Husband is a descendant of one of the border clans, so he’s heavy into this...and of course you all know what my connection is to it :)

Let me leave you with a picture of a guy about to bullrush a scarecrow.  I don’t know why, I didn’t ask.  Scotland’s weird, ya’ll.