#Coffin Mulch

[moleofmetal]

GIG REVIEW: CARCASS + Conjurer & Coffin Mulch - Sunday 28th May 2023 | Church Dundee

https://www.facebook.com/events/727365335360990 Bands: Coffin Mulch, Conjurer, Carcass It can be easily argued that Machine Head’s appearance last September was the largest band to Play Dundee in recent memory, but I would say not the most influential. That title would easily go to the central act of this gig: the gruesome and legendary Carcass. Being brought to Dundee for the first time in…

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#Carcass #Coffin Mulch #Conjurer #Gig Review

[bizarrobrain]

"Into the Blood" by Coffin Mulch - From "Into the Blood" (2022)

#Coffin Mulch #Into the Blood #Music #Death Metal #YouTube #Youtube

[gavischneider]

#coffin mulch #Youtube

[bruderdeslichtsblackmetal]

COFFIN MULCH set release date for MEMENTO MORI debut, reveal first track

http://bruderdeslichts.com/coffin-mulch-set-release-date-for-memento-mori-debut-reveal-first-track/

#COFFIN MULCH #death metal

[theartofmetal]

228. Septic Funeral - Coffin Mulch (Death Metal, 2021 - EP)

Art by Nightjar Illustration / Adam Burke

#metal #death metal #art #artwork #music #painting #heavy music #artist #cover art #heavy #adam burke #nightjar illustration #skeleton #skull #septic #funeral #coffin #mulch

[glamourslime]

Mmmmmmm I want tattoos I want tattoos I want tattoos I want my whole body to be art and then I want to be allowed to decompose peacefully when I die

#goals in life: be art #goals in death: be nutritious #i say this not meaning to be morbid but i think about the death industry a lot as part of accepting that i am alive #and i think a good death to me means being allowed to be mulch #do NOT preserve me do NOT embalm me do NOT put me in an expensive coffin #put me somewhere that needs the organic matter #when i die people who loved me can have ONE bone and be satisfied with the plants and bugs that integrate the rest of me

[horrorpatch]

COFFIN MULCH Drop New Track, "Fall of Gaia" Online Today!

Scottish death metal crew COFFIN MULCH have today released a new single online entitled, “Fall Of Gaia!” This is the second track released from the band’s upcoming debut album, Spectral Intercession. The album is set for release on June 30th on Memento Mori. You can check out the new track and get more info about the band below. From The Press Release Today, Scottish death metallers Coffin…

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#Coffin Mulch band #Death Metal #Fall Of Gaia #Memento Mori #Spectral Intercession album

[inkskinned]

glory be to the topsoil. to the worms. to the private church of mushrooms. what makes for a better angel than the quiet promise of decomposition - that thankless, endless task. returning to the earth: this is a final prayer.

you said to me - we understand so much of history through the lens of how each society handled death. i have been thinking about the funeral industry. about embalming. how the devil is supposed to be almost-human, charming. i was raised on teflon pans. the poison in my blood came from good intentions; sprinkled over pancakes and scrambled eggs. will those particles go, too, when i go?

i keep thinking about how many cultures personify death as being gentle. as being a friend. as being kind-of-beautiful. an outstretched hand. oh, we scowl so much at carrion birds; but they make their nests by the worship of a carcass. something about that feels beautiful to me.

i am often scared. i understand why some people seek immortality, even if it's not something i desire. i spend a lot of time worrying about coffins. i spend a lot of time thinking about how if they dug me up, my bones would tell very little about my soft spots. so many of my friends say - i just want to be a tree. i want to find a quiet space and go home. the other day, we got the bill from the funeral home, and i just stood there, staring. this is death?

you said: it's learning backwards. from how a society approaches death, we might learn how they celebrate life. i worry about what that means, sometimes. about what others will think about us. divorced from our contexts, maybe alien archivists will have a fondness for our tendency to call death sleep. maybe they will write essays titled towards the light: an analysis on how some sects of humanity worshipped solely facing east.

oh, there's so much about my life that won't survive. especially these days. there's so little that lasts in-the-same-shape. oh, if the universe is kind - i want them to know that we loved moss. that we loved lichen. that even decay could be beautiful for us; the little warm space of mulch. how i will go home, one day, in the body of a bird. in a worm. in a leaf.

how when we lay a body in the ground, we say: be at peace.

oh, to go to sleep so gracefully. when i go i want to leave no mark. i want the dirt to take me. // r.i.d & a.b

#spilled ink #@cryptidfucky #this is probably the right time after 10 years of being on this site #to tell u all that i have 5 names actually #bc im hispanic #and i COULD have used my other initials #which would have been RIP #and the fact i didn't is like. i mean like . where's my award #edit in the tags: i don't know anything about anything. ask alex #i collaborated with them here meaning #alex said a bunch of cool shit and i just stood there like :o

[env0writes]

Spilled Inktober, 10.1.23 “Cemetary Space"

Dearly untended daisies pushed Like twenty-something’s drinks Mismanaged multi-level-marketed graves Body stacked with little space And less concern for well being of the departed Sold into sandalwood coffins Walk through the idlewooded aisles Full of unwished-upon dandelions ready to spring life anew What life now wanders through such graven places Nearly ended, fallen limbs and leaves Too great a spectre left to rest With seasons changing as best as stars High will rise the mausoleum With little cause or ease then The dead will reign, untethered Tar and feathered for trespassing Passing life on deadly ground Severely mended guardians’ stone Addled letters, and worn off words Flowers pressed, impressed, and laid to rest As dandelions hue the milky way Childish wishes grown old like stars Will they turn in graves untended Overgrown with mulch, mold, mildew And other merry things Of the still and lifeless things so brimmed With warmth these days grown cold

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist! Photo by @env0

#Writeblrcafe #poeticstories #poetryportal #twc #spilled ink #wutispotlight #writtenconsiderations #burningmuse #alt lit #creative writing #spilled inktober #drawtober #drawtober 2023 #drawtober 2023 overgrown cemetary #October #midwest gothic #suburban gothic #poetselixir #poetswhisper #Env0 Writes #env0 writes #twcpoetry #writeblrcafe #writerscreed #abstractcommunity #savage words #smittenbypoetry #poetscreed #autumn #graveyard

[goldfishlover73]

27 and 29?

27: nervous about posting a fic

Every single one? I'm waiting for those "this is bad and you should feel bad" with everything I write. Especially with my Gai centric/rare pair stories. I want to do right by the characters and I want to make sure they are right (and good). I don't want to miss something.

TLDR: I overthink everything.

But the real answer to your question is Mago

Mago was a story I reluctantly posted. I wrote this story and held on to the finished work for years. I 'wanted' to post but also was very scared. Between the OC and talk of depression/suicide...I wanted to keep both sakumo and Hoshi safe.

But you, tea, might be thinking of that one story that hasn't been posted. And it will remain unposted.

The world isn't ready for it. And I'm not ready to post it.

29. Snippet from an unposted story or something removed.

I'm on my phone so I don't have access to that one, so here's one from isekai

Under the cut because I'm not a monster

This is from my isekai "that time I got hit by a bus and ended up in ninja land where I stole your girl" (or some thing like that)

Kakashi is a recovering drug user. This is a scene that was removed for a few reasons, but I liked it.

Kakashi starts relapsing and searches for Sakura, but she's away in Suna. He ends up finding Sasuke, who helps him out.

Copying to Tumblr removes all my italics.

... Good luck

Kakashi forced himself to breath through his nose as his entire body pulsed. “Your eye…it can do something for this? Yeah?” Everything hurt. Everything. 

Kakashi lifted his head, watching Uchiha move around his kitchen with easy, preparing tea. It was weird.

“You did this to yourself?” It wasn’t really a question. Kakashi didn’t answer. Uchiha didn’t need one. “No.” It was like a nail in his coffin. Uchiha glanced up at him. “You must know the pain.”

Part of Kakashi knew this and the other half wanted to punch Uchiha. To take his sword and ram it through his gut. To take that tea cup and throw scalding tea at him and then bludgeon him with the tea kettle. Even though he knew the other man could easily take him down.

Anger and rage built up in Kakashi’s gut as Uchiha sat down at his kotatsu and carefully made tea.

For one.

Kakashi’s lip curled as Uchiha sipped tea.

“How long?” Uchiha asked after a few minutes. Kakashi was silent. His body pulsing painfully. 

“Forever.” Kakashi mumbled.

Uchiha studied him for a moment before blinking. He nodded. “Then we wait.

“Forever.”

If you're still here...a very weird treat. From the wip vault circa 2010. NaruSaku modern day au

There was a heavy rap on Sakura’s bedroom window. She bolted out of bed. She tumbled sluggishly out of bed, spinning around almost drunkenly before she realized where the sound was coming from.

The green glow of the window. Silhouetted was Naruto with a slightly panicked look on his face. Moved quickly to the window, stopping when she eyed the clock on her night stand.

3:23 a.m.

“Naruto-” She opened the window, “What in the hell-”

“RememberwhenItoldyouI’dshowyoutheuniverse?” He said quickly, lowly, not taking a breath as he grabbed her arms and roughly pulled her down. “Now. We go now.” His voice almost absorbed by a low hum.

Sakura pulled back, mainly so he didn’t try to pull her through the window pane. “Naruto-”

“Sakura, we have to go.” He came through the window and grabbed her by the waist. The sound was getting louder and the green lights started to flash.

“What’s...what’s going on?” She slithered out of her window into the dry mulch. She looked around. The neighborhood looked like it did most nights, except for the loud hum and the green, and now blue lights, flashing wildly.

“The planet is being invaded and we have to leave now.” Naruto roughly grabbed her arm and started to drag her towards his house.

“Invaded?” Sakura tripped over a rock, almost crashing down. Naruto didn’t stop. ��Invaded by what?”

It was then that giant fireballs started falling from the sky.

Naruto stopped and looked up to the sky. “The Akatsuki.” They stood there, frozen as the fireballs became more numerous.

#asks

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

I might change a few things in here too, like adding more Kumi scenes, but here's what we got so far <3

Shun was trying his best not to quail at the number of things in the shopping cart. In addition to their Halloween supplies, Saiki had loaded him up to. He had a new wardrobe of basics that actually fit him now, including a winter coat and boots that didn’t have holes in them. His own soaps. A new toothbrush and tooth paste. Saiki had needed to get a new toothbrush holder that had room for more than one.

Shun had needed to excuse himself to the bathroom for a few minutes to have a good cry at that last one. If Saiki noticed his red eyes and blotchy face, which he surely had, he didn’t say anything.

Shun really appreciated that.

He thought he was doing a good job holding up, considering, even though he was getting a bit dizzy from all this walking. But they were almost done.

There was just one more thing left.

“So I know that it’s probably only gonna be the two of us,” Shun looked at Saiki to confirm.

He did with a nod.

Yeah, his aloof and hard to befriend highschool friend was still that, wasn’t he? Heh. Figured.

“But do you, like.” He shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Wanna do costumes too?”

It was making him remember the better days, where he’d been a bit better. A better big brother, a better first son. He’d thrown a Halloween party and nobody had come in a costume. Or Hairo and Aren had tried.

He’d been a mess even then. He’d cried and sulked in his coffin rental. But he’d gotten over himself after hallucinating a monster, and they’d all had a good laugh, and gave out candy and watched movies and had just hung out.

Really, it was a miracle Shun even had friends to begin with.

But somehow, he did.

He still did.

Saiki had made no costume attempts in highschool. He’d always just been there for the candy. But.

Shun smiled a little. “I can paint your face again.”

Saiki snorted at that, and finally the edges of his mouth upticked into a little smile. 

“Sure,” He said, and together they turned into the costume section.

☆ヾ(*´・∀・)ﾉヾ(・∀・`*)ﾉ☆

The weather had taken a turn for the cold and his previously overgrown garden had seemed to give up the guff of growing at all.

Kusuo sighed out a breath and rubbed at his forehead as he surveyed the pile of tomato plants he’d just gotten done pulling out. He still had some squashes and gourds that were putting up a good fight against the cold, so those he left, but the cabbage, broccoli, tomatoes, cucumbers, radish, beets, and herbs were definitely done for the season.

It’d been a good season. His fastidious gardening had helped his grocery bill out a lot, and his friends and family’s too, even if everyone was getting kind of sick of zucchini.

‘That’s the last of it for the produce,’ He thought, lifting his hands and waving them over to his compost pile. ‘Now it’s just the fertilizer and mulch, I believe.’

It was sunny, even if it was getting a bit chilly.

If Kusuo’s company stayed for longer, he’d have to check the local bylaws on personal fires.

Shun would definitely appreciate smores.

He gathered the mulch and fertilizer from his shed, stacking the four unopened bags on his shoulder. They were light, at 30KGs a piece, so it was no struggle.

‘And after that I should trim my hedges and trees,’ He thought. He’d already pulled up and put to compost his wilted flowers. ‘Rake after that, of course.’

Kusuo could get this all done in about two minutes if he chose to, probably sooner if he rushed it. His entire yard, front and back, wouldn’t require him to lift a finger.

If Shun hadn’t been here, he’d surely have to.

But truthfully, Kusuo preferred tending to his home with his hands. The work felt good. Pulling the plants with his fingers and his spade, turning the soil to spread the nutrients, spreading the fertilizer then the woodchips over the most delicate of the lot. His roses, for example, would certainly need the insulation.

It helped him feel normal. And at peace, somehow. One. Connected. Underneath the vibrant expanse of blue sky with his fingers in the soil was one of the rare times he got to feeling halfway spiritual.

He set the bags down on the grass and turned around. His front yard was much smaller than the back, with a hedge of pine blocking it off from the driveway and roses along the front retaining wall, and was where he had the bulk of his personal seating area. The back yard and deck were for work. That’s where he hung his laundry and tended to his food.

His front yard was for relaxing.

Hence, the outrageous number of flowers. Kusuo didn’t consider himself a frilly sort of person, but he wasn’t above being swayed by things that smelled sweet.

Not to mention, they attracted pollinators, which his food required. Bwahaha. It was the perfect trap.

‘The grass is getting long,’ He thought, kicking at the ground. ‘I’ll do that after I rake, then.’

If he was smiling, well, it was his yard. He was allowed to. Because Kusuo wouldn’t lie.

He was proud of his home.

He turned to his hanging baskets, floating up to retrieve them. They were dried and brown, but some few determined blooms remained. As he usually did this time of year, he twiddled one, and debated whether or not he should do anything with them.

“Hey Kusuo! Look!”

Kusuo turned around to find Shun grinning up at him. Kumi was slung to his front, and he thrust forward his hand to show Kusuo his prize.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

‘It’ was a leaf. Kusuo looked at it for a moment. 

He didn’t usually pay attention to leaves.

Kusuo decided it was.

He smiled, and nodded.

“It is.”

“We should keep it,” Shun said.

Kusuo blinked. Keep it? No, it’d only dry and crumble and attract spiders, but-

“You could press it,” Shun hung it in the front of the wrap and smiled at Kumi. “And add it to Kumi’s baby book”

Kusuo blinked once, twice, then a third time and looked at the basket he was holding.

Yes.

Pressing plant matter for decoration and keepsakes, that was something people did, wasn’t it?

That was perfect.

It was Kumi’s first year. She’d like them when she got older, probably.

“Good idea, Shun.” He looked back at the man on the ground. “Thank you.”

“So when’s Akechi getting here?”

Kusuo let the basket drift down to the table, already moving to the next. “Couple days. He just needs to wrap up a story he’s working on in Hokkaido.”

“Is he still, uh.” Shun faltered.

“Yes.”

Shun laughed a bit. “I wonder how Kumi’ll adjust, you’re a bit quiet!”

“It’ll be good for her.” Kusuo paused and eyed his pansies. “I hope.”

Then he looked at the other man and arched a brow. “But he’s not staying here, he’ll be in town. At least there’s that.”

“From what I remember,” Shun hummed. “He’s a guy that’s, uh. Good in small doses.”

“Only when he’s trying to intimidate you. It’ll be okay. He is considerate.”

“...Right. Right, yeah, no, that makes sense. I don’t think you’d befriend anyone who wasn’t a good person.”

Kusuo shrugged. He could try.

“What about Aiura?”

“She said she’d work it out with her manager and get back to me.” Kusuo snorted. “So I’ll give it five days then unblock her.”

“Blew up your phone, eh?”

Mikoto was the type of person who texted via a stream of consciousness, which was to say, the moment she’d been reminded of his existence he’d gotten treated to a tangent of notifications.

Kusuo wouldn’t exactly call that being blown up but, “Yes.” 

Only because ‘being blown up’ didn’t cover the scope.

He wouldn’t say that out loud though. Mikoto was good people.

“What about Toritsuk-”

“No.”

Kusuo cleared his throat a little. “ I mean. He’s busy.”

“Ah. Yes. Alright.”

“Yeah.”

He worked in silence for a moment before Shun’s brain lit up in an idea.

“Oh! I know!” 

Shun’s jubilance made him look at the man automatically, and found him bouncing on his toes. Not for the first time, Kusuo remembered what Shun’s guardian spirit was, and had to hide his smirk.

Shun’s eyes glittered with excitement. “What if we throw a Halloween party! Like a reunion, and also everyone can meet Kumi that way, and, well, it’s just October first, so that’ll give us lots of time to get it arranged and stuff.”

Kusuo blinked.

Huh.

It was October, wasn’t it? With Kumi, he’d completely forgotten-

Kusuo dropped to the ground in a second and was grabbing Shun’s shoulders the next.

“Baby Halloween costumes.”

Shun gasped, his jaw dropped. A fiendish light blazed to life in his red eyes, making his friend look particularly hellish as a toothy grin took over his face.

“Baby Halloween costumes,” Shun breathed.

As one they turned and ran into the house.

(Kusuo beat Shun by an entire kilometre.)

Fertiliser and woodchips could wait.

‘Maybe I should get a car,’ Kusuo thought ten minutes later as he squinted at the bus schedule.

The next one wasn’t for another hour.

“Maybe you should get a car,” Shun sighed.

“Maybe I should,” Kusuo agreed.

After all, teleporting was off limits for babies. She’d held up fine with interdimensional transit in the womb apparently but Kusuo couldn’t help but be paranoid. No. No teleporting for Kumi until she was at minimum five years old, maybe even ten depending on her mental development. Likewise, Kumi hadn’t been exposed to his finagling in the human genome in this universe, or Kusuo was pretty sure he’d only done that in this universe, he…didn’t want to think about that. Anyways, he didn’t know if she could actually stand up to the G-Forces and the like that the humans in this universe could. He’d have to do something about that eventually, otherwise life would only be extra dangerous for her, but he wanted to follow her natural growth as closely as he could.

After all, her mother wasn’t exactly normal either, and her father. Well. Kusuo hadn’t seen him in the prayers that’d gone into the coffee jelly cup, so he couldn’t be sure. He had his suspicions but still couldn’t help the intense paranoia.

Especially after the other day.

When he saw Mikoto again, he’d just have to ask her. Even after all this time, she far outstripped him in her accuracy. 

“In the meantime,” The phone came to his hand. “We’re gonna get a taxi.”

They were not waiting forty five minutes to take a long ass drive into town to play dress up with Kumi for HER FIRST HALLOWEEN. Hell no. This was right up there with his sweet tooth, Kusuo would not be abiding delay.

“Whoohoo!” Shun shouted. “Taxi!”

☆ヾ(*´・∀・)ﾉヾ(・∀・`*)ﾉ☆

So on one hand, Shun was always excited to dress up, and he was surrounded by costumes on all sides. His cosplay budget was gone, and with school being what it was he hadn’t been able to enjoy it while he’d still had it, not for a couple years anyway. School had taken up so much of his time that he’d barely been able to keep up with his friends, nevermind write or play or design or sew or fabricate armour or, well, anything.

Looking back on it, not having that outlet had probably been what’d done it, honestly. It’d been the nail in his coffin.

So to say he was vibrating in excitement for himself personally was an understatement.

However.

He’d never in his life been able to play dress up with Saiki. Painting blood on his face was the closest he’d ever gotten. This was an opportunity to be seized with both hands. He had to get it right. He had to get it perfect.

“No, not this one. No, no. No. Mmn too furry. No, your glasses. No. No. No. No!”

He had to get it right, he couldn’t let this down, he couldn’t fail, he had to-

“Hey.” Saiki was looking at a werewolf costume. “What about this one-”

Shun snatched it from his hands and told him, “No!”

And then he paused. And then he felt himself begin to shake.

He drew the bag in slowly, holding it to his chest. Inside, his heart must’ve been breaking the sound barrier it was going so fast cus that was all he could hear was it booming.

“Hey.”

Shun did his best to breathe.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Saiki ducked into his vision.

He actually looked concerned.

“Hey. Kaidou. Look at me.”

Desperate to get it right, Shun looked at him. 

Saiki smiled. Or tried to. Maybe. He looked a bit too freaked out in his subtle way for it to really appreciate, though.

“This doesn’t need to be perfect.”

Shun stared. Saiki swallowed.

He said next, “But thank you for thinking of me, okay?”

That sounded like rejection.

“Did I,” Shun swallowed. “Did I get it wro-”

“No.”

Saiki shook his head. He took the werewolf costume back and hung it on the hook it’d come from.

“It’s only Halloween. There’s no failing grade.”

Saiki looked back at him. “Okay?”

There’s no failing grade.

“There’s.” Shun blinked. “No failing grade?”

Not for Halloween.

Oh.

He looked at his feet.

Of course.

His priorities. Somehow he’d gotten them all confused. Everything felt so life or death now. Shun looked back up. “I’m sorry-”

But Saiki shook his head. Then he pulled a witch costume down, looked at it, and looked at Shun and asked, “What about this one?”

Shun blinked at it. A witch? Saiki? Then he paused and considered that. Squinted.

Said, “It’s a bit,” He mimed like he was Pinnochio. “Isn’t it?”

That’d interfere with Saiki’s glasses, nevermind, uh, other connotations.

Saiki looked at it, nodded, and put it back. He grabbed an angel costume next. It was still a dress. Shun was pretty sure Saiki was deliberately trying to be goofy right now in his own off-kilter way, but honestly?

He laughed. “Now that one suits you.”

Saiki blinked, squinted at him, then squinted at the dress. He looked like he didn’t believe it. Maybe cus he was such a grump he thought it didn’t suit him, but it did.

Shun, dressed in his borrowed clothing, looking at a full cart of soon to be his belongings and things bought expressly to cheer him up where otherwise he knew Saiki wouldn’t care, knew it to be true.

Facts were facts.

Saiki shrugged and threw it into the cart anyway. “Your turn.”

Shun blinked. “Wait, you’re really gonna get it?”

“Yeah, why not.”

“Oh. Uh. Right. Hm. Oh, I could reprise dracula? Haha, or I could be a devil to suit your angel!”

The devil costumes had more range than the angel ones. There was a dress, a body suit, and a tux looking outfit with a voluptuous looking cape, and of course devil horns and a tail.

Shun did like capes.

Saiki grabbed the one with the cape and dropped it in the cart, then made to leave.

“But that’s the more-” Shun stuffed his voice back into his throat.

Saiki looked back at him, raised an eyebrow.

Shun swallowed and glanced at the price tags, remembered how many times Saiki had told him not to worry about it, and dragged in a deep breath.

“We should try them on to make sure they fit,” He said instead.

Saiki, who’d been about to turn out the exit, blinked. Said, “Ah.” And nodded. 

‘Wait. Did he seriously not think about that?’ Shun looked at the costumes and rifled through until he found the small for him, then the extra large of the angel costume just in case. It was a dress after all. Saiki would probably have to size up. 

Except he hadn’t even thought of it.

‘Weird.’  Saiki had said he didn’t know the first thing about Halloween. Shun just hadn’t expected that to extend to shopping for clothes, either. His friend had always seemed competent in that. But maybe Halloween was tripping him up? Well. Whatever. Shun shrugged it off.

One, wasn’t his business.

Two, that’s why he was here!

“Onwards, ho!” 

“Ho,” Saiki agreed, and together they made for the changing rooms.

☆ヾ(*´・∀・)ﾉヾ(・∀・`*)ﾉ☆

“Aaahhh!” Mikoto squealed. “Oh my goodness lookitchu, oh look those cheeks, I canNOT believe you legitskies found her out in the rain.”

Then Mikoto paused, and snickered. “I’m also lovin the matching fits.”

“I’m not.” Shun huffed. “Kusuo, you’ve had that costume for years.”

Kusuo frowned. “Why is that a problem?”

With his time restore powers, this thing was practically brand new. And it hadn’t exactly been cheap, either. 

Mikoto shook her head.

She was a leopard. Catsuit, coat, cat ears, a tail, makeup and thigh high boots that Kusuo was trying very hard not to freak out over because she was wearing shoes passed his entryway, inside his home, and but they were clean, she’d swapped them in from a pair of flat soled galoshes in his foyer, so it was just habit making him have an internal tizzy about it. 

“Some things never change, bro. Kusuo’s always been a massive cheapskate. If he had to buy a wedding dress, he’d probably wear it every day just to get his money out of it.”

Kusuo frowned deeper. He would. He was glad that was at least twenty years off for Kumi, hopefully more, because he would. 

Shun snorted, and the action made the visor on his helmet fall down on his finger, making him squawk. On account of he was a knight. In armour he’d made himself. Which was precisely why Kusuo had recommended him to Good Smile. His cosplay had suited him uniquely to crafting objects in 3D, even if neither Shun nor his mom had ever considered it a viable skill before.

Made Kusuo want to shake his head. He hoped he’d be better for Kumi. But he couldn’t imagine a thing she’d do that’d make him throw her out in the cold, even after she grew up and stopped being a carryable and adorable baby. Granted, for months he’d been worrying over giving her to a family better suited to her, but that’d hardly make her homeless. The threat of her eventual potential homelessness was what’d forced his hand!

What Mrs. Kaidou had been thinking, Kusuo genuinely couldn’t parse.

But he’d said his piece.

Vociferously.

It made him want to smile, remembering it, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to scare anyone. Yet.

“Anyways, thank you.” Kusuo looked down at her and smiled. She was gaping at Mikoto’s face.

Mikoto saw and instantly started playing peek-a-boo. The expression Kumi always made when peek-a-boo happened was a killer, he was glad Mikoto got to enjoy it. Especially with her dressed up as a little angel.

Ironic. Her temperament wasn’t exactly angelic unless she was sleeping.

But with a bit of help, it was easier to be separated from it, and not take it so personally as an indicator of his failings as a parent that. Funny that. Kusuo hadn’t even realised he could take something personally.

He looked at the clock. “Here,” He said, and plunked Kumi into Mikoto’s arms. “Get to know her for a few minutes. I’m gonna get the pumpkins ready.”

“Oh shoot yeah, it’s about time for everyone else to start showing up, isn’t it?” Shun said, and was answered by the doorbell.

Kusuo gave Shun a frown. “You said it, you get it.”

“Hah! Yeah, yeah.”

Mikoto followed him out. “Y’know. Not to be a total bummer on you or nothing, but it’s sorta hard to believe that you did all this yourself. You’ve never been the keener type.”

“I’m a keener when it comes to being a cheapskate.”

Mikoto sent him a look. “Don’t harsh yaself either, babe. You and me both know that maintaining a garden isn’t cheap, on either the wallet or the internal resources. There’s a reason lots of people have to get their produce from the store. You’ve put a ton of work into this place, shit’s obvi AF, don’t sell yourself short.”

She had him there. Kusuo sighed, and looked down at his pumpkins.

Fortunately he had four that were grown enough for the activities.

“I moved up here for a reason. It. Gives me more resources. Honestly I’m still a cheapskate.”

He cranked a vine and it gave a green smelling snap.

“I don’t have a lot of energy, never have. But up here there’s less strain on my powers so.” He shrugged and stood with the pumpkin. “I have more.”

Mikoto breathed a gasp of understanding. “Your telepathy…”

Kusuo couldn’t help but give her a little dry smile. “And my parents.”

At that Mikoto gave a brief laugh and shook her head. Kusuo took that moment to study her. Boots aside, she wasn’t that much taller. But she did look a bit older. It was interesting to see the way that she’d matured since highschool. Of course some things never changed. Instead of sparkly stickers, she had sparkly gems, and sparkly eyeliner. She still dropped slang, but not as much of it. Her hair was even curlier, but shorter, because now she had to stuff it into helmets. She’d spray painted polka dots into it. She was a racer with an incredibly successful career. She still asked him to marry her sometimes, mostly as a joke, but with her career at the forefront for the last long while, they’d actually barely spoken.

He hated to say it, so he wouldn’t, but he’d missed her.

She looked good.

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Besides, it’s not just my grocery bills.”

Mikoto squawked as a zucchini almost beaned her in the head but she managed to catch it and blinked at it in confusion. Kusuo (who never would have allowed her to drop it anyway since she was holding Kumi) smirked. 

“Take it and be grateful.”

“Hah! Okay Mr. I Help Noone But Myself.”

“I am helping myself. Groceries are expensive. This way I don’t have to listen to people whine. Plus.”

Kusuo spread his arms, his wings spreading with them, and allowed his eyes to glow as he smiled. 

“Everyone is going home with a zucchini.” He chuckled a little bit. “Everyone.”

Mikoto blinked.

She looked down at the zucchini in her hand. 

She looked back at him, and her jaw dropped.

“You fiend.”

“That’s right.” Kusuo swept a hand in the direction of his garden, his chuckle thrumming up from the earth itself. “This party isn’t only so people can get to know Kumi. It’s also-”

Mikoto shook her fistful of veggie at him like she was shaking her fist at God. “To load everyone down with your damn zucchini!”

Kusuo threw back his head and laughed. 

And then he accidentally dropped the pumpkin on his foot because he got too distracted being evil and dramatic. “AH! Shiiiiiiooooooopumpkin.”

“I haven’t heard that expletive before. I’ll add that to my lexicon. Thanks babe.”

“I don’t wanna swear around Kumi.”

“Is the pumpkin okay?”

A sharp sigh. “No. But that’s fine.”

Kusuo waved his hand and the pumpkin restored itself, and he bent over and picked it up, then moved to snap the next one off the vine.

“How many zucchini do you want?”

“Uhm. I’ll stick with the one, thanks. I aint fallin into that trap, boo.”

“Tch. Good grief. Fine.”

#freaks fics #single dad saiki fic

[countdowntodusk]

the switch to the new tweetdeck platform erased my access to my alt accounts :\ i used my old main as the team account, this includes my current main there. the emails that belonged to the alt accounts were either burners or inaccessible so it would be an incredible hassle to set everything up again. and as most of us know the recovery process is notoriously awful on twitter. while i can still use the mobile app for my accounts, the usability is still in the fuckin drain. so basically, its the final nail in the coffin for me regarding twitter.

unless someone finally mulches muskrat with a train and that place gets better management (lol) im just using tumblr until late stage internet makes digital graves of every platform [lmao]

soz for being dramatic but i kinda cant help it since i just so happened to remake and try and get a fresh start with the climate there just as muskrat decided to glass the infrastructure. waste of a good year and a half of trying to settle in.

[the-lady-writes-what]

It's bad enough that our living bodies are regulated by the government (unless of course you're a cisgender white dude). But the fact that our bodies are regulated by the state even after we no longer belong to that shell is a travesty. So long as it doesn't further harm the environment or living people, we should be able to do whatever we want with our corpses.

Some dude really loves clowns and wants his body dressed up as one and toted about in a chair a la Weekend at Bernie's before being cremated? Go for it.

Someone wants to be turned into mulch for plants. Do it.

Be buried in a swamp like the Tollund Man? Yes.

Want to have your head buried in a pot of basil because you read The Decameron one time? I You should be allowed to do that.

At the very least, people should be allowed to be presented in death how they felt about their bodies. Yes, that includes trans folk being allowed to dress as their preferred gender even in death and final death wishes should be legally binding. I want to rot in the ground in a casket or coffin that will degrade without leaving trace amounts of chemicals that ultimately seep into the ground and water supply. It is not disrespectful to the human body to let it decompose.

#might delete later #rant time #death positivity #tldr let people have control over their bodies even in death #thank you for coming to my TED talk

[austerulous]

◈   @kenneld​

Death was not weightless.  The spirit might fly, but the bones would remain.  Life – brittle and grey though it was – played out somewhere far above, in sight of the fading sun.  Suffocated by the weight of a dying world, in these tombs there was no greater vivacity than the ill-omened deathwatch beetles, busy making cathedrals of coffins.  Incessantly they burrowed, jaws clicking in the dark, foretelling of the doom that had already met the legions of corpses that festered in these ossuaries.  Eyeless sockets stared at Anri wherever she went, pocketing the walls like the ugly perforations of lotus pods.

Above ground, cathedrals and their spires towered skyward, reaching for the heavens, while the catacombs plunged deep into the earth’s putrefying gut.  This root system was the truth that lay behind gilt-edges and promises of transcendence.  Decay.  A slow return to dust.  Ashen as she was, Anri knew something of death, could see something of herself in the groaning towers of bones.

This was no time to die and stay dead.  For now, she walked, wading through air that was impossibly still.  Time had no meaning in the dark, where it passed in an endless slide of hours and days.  There was no need to eat, no need to sleep, no need to rest unless the hairline fractures in her heart and mind yawned into widening fissures, forcing her to pause, to gather the fraying threads of her sanity.  Grit and bones crunched beneath her feet, silt settled for aeons stirring and swirling around her boots as she trespassed through the house of innumerable dead, her laboured breathing muffled by her helm.

Horace, where are you?

Prism stones marked the route she had taken through labyrinthine passages, that vein-like lattice of winding corridors.  In her wake, the cheerful little pebbles glittered and glowed.  Beautiful, comforting, the only company she kept, until –

Silence strangled her as she halted, hesitating, eyes squinting in the gloom, blue irises coloured with disbelief.  Ahead was a knight of sorts, swathed in shadow.  Broad in the shoulder and back, build hinting at a height that could not be determined when he knelt, his head slung forward as though in dejection, defeat.  Anri watched, unblinking as a deer in the undergrowth, marking the rise and fall of his pauldrons, listening for the tell-tale rattle and hearing none.  Hollows breathed too, she knew, out of habit rather than necessity.  They wheezed and whined even as their lungs turned to sludge and mulch bubbled in their throats.

Curiosity had killed her more than once.  Edging closer, she skirted wide and wary.  The sword in her hand – that lucky blade – was unsheathed, its tip pointing to the bone-strewn floor.  A dismal scene presented itself, framed by the slit of her visor, that narrow window granting almost singular focus.  Before the knight lay a body, more recently dead than those that had been interred in this ancient tomb.  Blood stains had long dried black.  Gaunt and mottled, with mould flourishing at the corner of her mouth, the jelly of her eyes were desiccated and sunken.  Her hollowed body shrivelled beneath her dress.  Her dress.  What courage it must take to face the world with so little physical protection.  Here was the cost of such faith – a cleaved abdominal cavity, spewing rotten entrails, gluing her to the dusty floor.  This girl was one who would not come back, wheezing and with the taste of the grave thick on her tongue.  This girl was dead, and would remain so.  A mercy, in truth.

Heartstrings plucked raw, chest aching with second-hand sorrow and strange yearning, Anri’s attention shifted back to the silent sentinel.  A glimpse of her own fate, perhaps, should Horace have been met with harm.

“You aren’t hollow, are you?”

There came no response that she could discern, save perhaps a long, low, barely audible exhalation.  No inarticulate snarl, no mindless violence.  His hand did not fly to the Zweihander within his reach.  The dark pressed against her back, hungry, ready to swallow her from the sight of this buckled man.  Its chill stained her, drove her forwards, to the first unkindled she had seen in this godforsaken place.  Dead or undead, there were few corners of the world worse than this in which to spend eternity.  With that thought, Anri’s gaze drifted back to the maiden’s earthly remains.

#sorry for the wait! #i hope this works #and fits with what you imagined for ber #anri sees one (1) broken husk of a man and is ready to adopt him #◈ — ic; anri #kenneld

[stateofgeorgie]

In Autumn, the island's country roads rumble under the weight of men on tractors, laden with burlaps sacks fat with olives, black, purple green. Olive mills are crowded with them, dropping off sacks, picking up great canisters of liquid green-gold olive oil. October, November, December - women in trees,  kids below spreading canvases to catch the fruit. If you're lucky, your trees will be ready to harvest before the weather turns cold enough to nip at your fingers and nose, you will picnic under the bounteous trees.

  🎪 Pinterest: https://gr.pinterest.com/homegiftguide/  🖼️ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/april0ctober/ 🗿 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/april0ctober/ 

 - olive harvest - poetry film - Zakynthos, Greece - 

 filmed by ANTA stone villa and their organically farmed olive grove (antaconcept.com) 

 Let's say the year starts in fall. Let’s just say it, without asking if it’s true. There is fruit, dark, perfect, juicy and bitter. The wind blows and fruit falls. The wind blows and golden leaves fall. The grass lies shrivelled from summer. The fruit is heavy on these branches, But half lasts till the dying of the light, Midwinter, they are shrivelled wineskins That shine like gold in raindrops and sunbeams. They crust the concrete with loamy pebbles, Fertilize glades, groves, gutters, and concrete. Thick grass prepares to coat everything. Trees look always the same, unchanging though The slender stalks that unfurl the first eye-soft leaf In the gentle days before spring have turned into ship-like Hollow cases adrift on the land, Caught in walls, falling into wells, filled in the flood with dirt like that they sprang from, wine-dark, mixed with seeds, half rot and half roots. The dirt inside such twisted coffins harbours stories, people never seen before, a carnival of life. That bitter juice, that smooth black skin, those large craggy seeds, those silver blades hold forth, deliver a message for the whole community of life. The wind carries it, the summer comes in with slim blossoms, messages carried still further. Messages of cream, of the fat of life and the almost sensible secret scent of growing things. Summer makes seeds of tiny buds, puts flesh on their bones, sends them bouncing and bright into the hands of little children amidst the thrill of a first gentle lifting up to the community of twigs and air. They grasp, release, gasp at the height, The ancient dance is skilfully executed by chunks of solidified light. The bright new baubles, pale as grass, entice the child to put a foot on the first step of roots and each step leads to the next. The sense of the limbs takes over. The puzzle is laid bare. Old, still arms made light with new life lift and lift. The process is self-evident, the mystery cracks open. Weights meet in balance, wood bounces, a foot bounces and a seed in such a state can sometimes bounce as far as the sea. That sea tells secrets, hears everything whispered, sends its waves to lend a hand. It carries the sky inside and out, light in every straight line stirring the mess together. It rests and wrinkles the bones of old groves when their roots go deep enough. Like always, summer grows heavy and sags, vines and fields are sticky and buzzing with life, juice runs over the dry grasses. Ripening, always ripening. When fall comes again, they stand ready to receive a communion of sorts, secretive but informal, an exercise of limb and mind, an activity that must end in mulch. Everything dies like this, sacrificing its former life to future life. Dying is fundamental. Seeds and seedlings eat their clothes And offerings are made to all, regardless of deserving. Food is given in every form but only some look to us like death. A rot produces a perfume too; some say it is not very different from an orchid’s. We take and take, fill pockets and pantries, Stain our clothes our hair our minds, and feed on oil that burns our throats for sheer freshness What’s left will be torn apart by the wind. Hidden away, purified to the utmost, a fruit becomes a commodity Its link to its old life withers away. Its future existence stretches forth as always, exploring the vast web of possibilities ________________________________ 

 olives, olive trees, olive harvest, farming, organic, film, short movie, film festival, poem, poetry film, olive grove, Greece, Jim Jarmusch, Paterson, original poetry, nature, ambient music, ambient sounds, relaxing visuals, Greek islands, alternative tourism, food tourism, eco tourism, greek filmmaker, cinematographer, fuji-xt30, shot with fuji, fuji xt30, fuji eterna, poetry film, poetry short film, spoken poetry film, poetic film, poet film, poetic filmmaking, visual poetry film, film poem, short film, documentary, short doc, olives, Zante, Zakynthos, april october studios, fujifilm, fujii, olive harvest, organic, farming, bio, ANTAconcept

#youtube #short movie #poetry film #olive harvest #Zakynthos

[runthepockets]

NEW COFFIN MULCH ALBUM LFGGGGGGG