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sichore · 6 months

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okok, I'm feeling generous and this can be a standalone thing.

Dethklok's resident artist has a migraine, and Pickles is the most qualified to handle it.

It starts with a twinge.

Jimi pauses mid-stroke, brush suspended in mid-air. There's no mistaking the faint twang she felt between her eyes, like the first string being plucked, reverberating down through her body. The note stops abruptly deep within, promising nausea.

She only has a few minutes, and maybe if she hurries, she can find her pain meds.

She did bring them, right? Surely, they're around here.

Three minutes later, she's at the sink, hastily washing out her brushes. The twinge is now a pulse.

Eight minutes later, she's turning over bags, searching drawers, wondering how in the hell she could have misplaced something so important. Maybe she has time to call up someone – but who? The Klokateers aren't hers to summon.

As she deliberates, the light of her phone stabs through her eyes. Her stomach lurches. It's too late.

Twelve minutes after the first twinge, Jimi has retreated to the dark cave of her bedspace. Clothes hastily shed and bonnet thrown on, she is cocooned by the blackout curtains surrounding her bed, blankets and pillows pulled over her head. Curled in a fetal position, breathing carefully through her mouth. The cool breaths of air soothe her aching stomach, as the migraine hits full force.

She'll lose the rest of the day and most of the night to this. Fortunately, her benefactors are merciful – to her, at least. There will be no penalty for taking the time off to take care of herself, and that at least is a small comfort as she swirls in a vortex of agony. If she closes her eyes tight enough, and waits, she can just sleep it away.

It's never easy to settle down when this happens, mind racing with all she needs to do. Should have done. Her work, her pills that should have been somewhere accessible, how stupid it was of her to assume she'd be fine here, knowing that she has no definite triggers.

But that’s for future Jimi, to berate past Jimi for not being prepared. Right now, this Jimi just wants peace, pain-free.

She fades in and out of consciousness, blessedly blackening out into the void, and has almost sunken completely when she hears the whispers at her door.

"I dunno, what if she doesn't wanna hang out?"

"When hasch she ever said no, Nathan? Huh? Let's fucking go!"

Well, maybe in another universe, they were whispers. Were they even trying to be quiet?

"Guys, maybe she should waits for her to come out on her owns?"

"She works too much, we've gots to go pal around now! It'll be good for her."

"Nathan and Skwisgaar are right, guys, we – Toki, dood, no, don't!"

The door slides open, despite Pickles' protests. Jimi can only groan quietly from her painful prison; she's really not in any state to entertain the guys, but if she tries to speak loud enough to tell them to go, she'll probably throw up. Maybe they'll just… get bored, and leave her be.

Alas, working with Dethklok is much like working with a bunch of teenage boys, who also happen to be cats. And krillionaires. Meaning they will get into absolutely everything while looking you in the eye, and no one can tell them no.

"Look, see? She's not here, so let's just go, okey?"

"We can at least look around, Pickles. We gotta make sure, right? Pickles?"

"That tone is naht gonna work on me today, Nathan."

"The fuck isch this? Modge podge?" Is he going through her supplies? "Looksch like cum." Ah.

"Put that down, Murderface."

"Ooh, this ams her new work!"

"Get back over here, Toki! We are leaving, now."

"What abouts the bed?" Skwisgaar sounds close. Too close. Jimi curls up more. This would be funny if she didn't hurt so much. "Maybe she takes a nap?"

"Tch. Schleeping on the job…"

"Skwisgaar, wait, no, don't wear your boots over there –"

"Pickles, what is with you all of a sudden? It’s like you know all the rules of this place."

"Don't worry about it. Look, I'll check it out, all right? Just gimme a sec."

Funny how Jimi recognizes the shuffle of Pickles toeing off his shoes – he's really gotten mindful of that now, hasn't he? But the soft thought is cut short. Even under the darkness of her bedding and closed eyes, she still feels the light from her curtains opening, like getting hit with a bat.

"Ah!"

"Oh, crap–!"

Just as swiftly, the curtain closes. It's only a minor relief as the voices of the band rise in triumph.

"Founds her!"

"There she is, I heard that!"

"Yeah, no, everyone out."

"We can'ts even say hi?"

"Nope. Out, c'mon, everybody out."

The groans and complaints of those silly, baby, grown ass men grow more faint as they go back to what Jimi's assumes is her door, as she hears it slide shut, muffling their protests. (“But why does Pickle get to–?”)

It's quiet, again, and she sinks into the bed, not realizing how anxious she'd been. She thinks she's alone, until she hears the whispers of socks shuffling over the rugs of her living space.

"Jimi?" Pickles' soft voice is not entirely unexpected, but she still jumps. "I'm coming in, okee?"

She nods, not like he can see it, and even though she's prepared for the curtain opening, she still whimpers. The flash of light lasts only a moment, followed by the rustle of clothes as the drummer moves nearer.

She feels the bed dip slightly.

"Hey, Jimi?"

"Mmn."

"It's Pickles."

"Mmhm."

"The drummer."

"Hey."

"You sound like a frog."

"Yeah."

"What's the matter?"

Jimi sighs deeply, another attempt to soothe her nausea. She finally moves, shifting from her belly to her side so she can slip a hand from underneath the warm shell of her covers.

The air of her room feels so cold, yet soon, she feels rough fingers on her own, closing over them.

"I'm in a lot of pain," Jimi croaks out. "Migraine."

“Oh, that’s it?” Pickles sounds relieved; she hears his exhale. "You didn't tell nobody?"

"I didn't… wanna be a bother."

The studio space is just for convenience. It's not Dethklok's responsibility to take care of her. Jimi should have been better prepared. All the care she put into making this space she was granted as efficient as could be, and she couldn't even do that properly.

She just wants to lay here. She can't even do that. Her fingers flex when she realizes Pickles hasn't moved, and his grip stays. Gentle, and firm.

As much as she doesn't want to be seen like this, in a bonnet and not at all put together, Jimi shuffles around until the pillow covering her head slides down enough so that she can peek out from her solitary haven.

There's not much she can see without her glasses, let alone in the dark. But she sees Pickles. She sees the green of his eyes here in the dark – deep as a forest, steadfast as moss, and not at all dimmed despite the lack of light.

Judging from the angle, he has his cheek pressed to her bed, peering sideways back at her.

"There ya are. … Can I getcha anything?"

Jimi swallows. She's too ill to be overwhelmed. "... Pain pills."

"I think what I got is a bit much for ya, but hold on." He finally pulls away, and Jimi closes her eyes as another wave hits her, listening to Pickles pat down his pockets. "Ah, can't see shit – I'm pulling out my phone."

Jimi can't tell, thankfully. Maybe he has it facing away from her, so the screen’s light doesn’t bother her. She's spent the most time with Pickles by now, come to think of it, but she still doesn't understand why he would be so kind to her. She wasn’t going to fool herself into thinking he was any less of a dick than the rest of the band.

"Oxy too much for ya?"

"Yeah. I need, ugh… Naproxen. Ibu… profen. Excedrin. Something like that."

There's a faint tock tock tock – is he typing? “Anythin’ else?”

“Ugh… caffeine?”

“Like coffee?”

“Yes, please. Not too hot.”

“Okey, just lemme…” There’s some more typing, and the bed dips again, deeper this time. Jimi’s shrunk back a little under her covers, but her hand is still out. And Pickles’ hand covers hers, thumb absently rubbing over her knuckles as he keeps typing.

Heat and pressure flood Jimi’s eyes and nose. Her throat constricts, unable to stop a choked sob from emerging.

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Pickles stops typing, sets down his phone to take her hand in both of his, and Jimi squeezes her eyes against the tears that manage to escape. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

God, this is so embarrassing. Jimi has to take her time to just inhale, exhale, get a hold of herself, calm down. Why was this job making her cry so much, for the first time in years?

And Pickles just waits, which makes it worse.

“Why…” Her voice breaks, and now shame joins the various waves washing over her. Her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Jimi would like to think she’s only a little stupid, even if she can be naïve. Like trying to see the good in her employers, knowing that the mortality rate just for being in their vicinity was astronomically high, and they hardly seemed to mind. Being vulnerable like this in front of someone who held so much power over her was beyond foolish and against everything she knew, was taught through her life and the lives of all the other women before her.

And yet.

And yet…

“I wasn’t gonna just leave ya like that,” Pickles says. Gently. “Honestly, when I saw ya huddled up like that, I thought…” He fidgets, hands shifting around to rub his thumbs in slow circles over hers. “We can’t hang out if yer feeling bad.”

Jimi smiles, despite everything. “I have work to do.”

“Eh. It can wait.”

When was the last time anyone had sat with her like this, when she was feeling at her worst, even more useless to everyone? Jimi hardly remembers. She’s been on her own so long, now, always had herself to rely on when she got sick and couldn’t push through it to make it to work. Even when she still lived at home. Even when she was with her partners, who had insisted on helping, the one time she arrived stumbling, vision blurred even further from the severity of her migraine.

They wanted to help, and still Jimi insisted she was fine, she could handle it, don’t worry, she’ll be fine soon, then…

She pushes away those memories, sets herself adrift in the haze between the waking world and sleep, the physical and beyond. Faintly, she hears Pickles typing on his phone again, but there’s still the embrace of one hand. Warm, anchoring, floating along with her.

Jimi isn’t sure how long they stay like that, but eventually, Pickles rises, taking his warmth with him with a soft, “Be right back.”

And she thinks that’s the end of it, but she feels more at peace now, and could fall asleep like this, falling away from her myriad of thoughts and worrisome memories.

Only Pickles returns. She hears the soft clunk of something being set on her nightstand.

“Hey, Jim. Can ya sit up? I’m gonna turn yer lamp on, okee?”

Mercifully, Pickles turns the dimmer slowly, so Jimi doesn’t even feel the glow from beneath her blankets. She has time to brace herself before emerging from beneath the covers – and pulling the sheet around her chest, almost forgetting herself. She’s not so out of it that she isn’t self-conscious, and it’s starting to hurt her head, so she slips off her silk bonnet, running a hand over her curls so that they have some kind of shape.

She blinks towards the blur that is Pickles, who hands her a small packet. “Here ya go. Got some naproxen for ya.”

“Thank you.” Jimi tears the paper open to deposit the pills, and Pickles takes her free hand, carefully placing a warm cup in her grasp.

“And here’s yer coffee. Careful, hon.”

“Thank you,” Jimi says again, taking the painkillers with a careful sip.

The coffee is gently warm, beautifully roasted and delicately sweetened, with floral notes. She takes a longer drink, holding the cup in both hands, the caffeine immediately doing its work to dampen her migraine, leaving her more clear-headed and coherent. The brew is creamy, yet it wasn’t cow milk, she was certain.

“This is… wonderful. Is that lavender? And coconut.” She looks up at Pickles, wishing she could see his expression. Had he just been watching her this whole time? “I love it. Thank you, Pickles.”

“Oh, yeah, s’no big deal.” He shifts, seems to scratch his arm or something. “I know you like all that flowery stuff, like, essence of rose, or whatever. And ya don’t drink dairy, so…”

Jimi hopes she looks grateful; as it is, she’s squinting, her bleary vision still adjusting to the low light. “You remembered all that?”

“It’s nothin'.” He shrugs. “I just gave Jean-Pierre some notes, and he whipped that up for ya. He should get yer thanks.”

“But you got this for me. You did all of this for me. So… thank you.”

Silence falls, and Jimi continues her drink. Just as she wonders why Pickles hasn’t left yet, he shuffles a bit, rubbing a socked foot along her rug.

“... So, er…”

“... Would you like to sit down?”

“Even in my outside clothes?”

“You already did. Have you been outside today?” Without waiting for an answer, Jimi pats the space next to her. “Come here.”

It’s not as weird as it should be, perhaps, when Pickles settles beside her, folding a leg up on her bed, with only a few layers of blanket separating the two. When Jimi leans against his shoulder and feels Pickles relax, it just feels natural. When his arm slides behind her and he leans against her side, cheek pressed to her curls, it feels right.

Jimi’s lips touch her cup, the ceramic soft and inviting. She breathes deep, senses awash with renewal. There’s the warmth of Pickles against her, the soft rush of their breaths. The tickle of tobacco in her nose, the iridescent static dancing behind her closed lids. And on her tongue, lavender. Serenity. Calm. Pure and Silent. What else?

There’s a sixth feeling. Its tendril curls around her, and gives the faintest brush against her aching heart.

#metalocalypse #pickles the durmmer #mtl oc #my writing #nnnneeeehhhhhhhh!!!

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tsukuyomii45 · 1 year

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Okay heres team minato and some people from their generation-

Kakashi, literally nobody would know he was in the room until either Guy or Obito started yelling at him. He had fangs (like dog canines). Absolute dog lover. Sakumo is one of the schools guidance counselors, participates in some clubs (Drama club, band and mathletes)

Nerd..

Anyways

(Headcanon )

Kakashi forgot his lunch so sakumo interrupted the class he was in to give it to him (an embarrass him) obito was laughing like a little rat

Obito, an absolute edgelord but is nicer unlike MADARA. Tried to have longer hair (his cave hair) but then cut it cause Anko was yelling at him everyday on how much he needed a haircut. (Minato agreed with Anko). Obito joined the drama club because rin was there just for him to find a good majority of his grade and be embarrassed. Learned Guitar just to fuck with Madara. An artist

Found cd’s of madara’s band, decided to take them home with him to humiliate him infront of his brothers (his band was a secret)

Rin, Theater Geek. In senior year she got casted the role of Rose and Obito was Jack. When obito snuck out to her house she jokingly told him to draw her like one of his french girls. (He actually did) violin Jesus, listens to Morfonica (good band). Spends lunch in the library with obito (who is skipping class)

Minato. Went to the high school when he was a teenager. Got picked on by madara which is why he agreed with anko on obito needing a hair cut. Hes a math teacher. Kakashi constantly corrects him to where he lets kakashi be an assistant to deal with dumb questions (mainly from obito and guy)

Anko, an absolute asshole that everyone loves. Says shes an art god but in the classes shes mostly struggling with everything. Our favorite Bisexual, flirts with Kakashi mainly infront of his dad. Made fun of obitos hair because she thought he looked like the lead singer of a future metal band that failed badly. Thinks shes chill enough with Minato to call him by his first name

Guy, the person who takes gym way to serious. Accidentally slammed a ball into peoples heads a few times (one of them was rin) obito threatened to beat him up. Goes to the schools weight room in his spare time to challenge Kakashi. The person who jumps in the hallways to hit doors

I'm actually laughing my ass off these are hilarious and so awesome XDDD Gai slamming balls into people's head is just so in-character

I would also say that Obito has really good acting skills (a tie-in to the way he acted out different personalities in Shippuden) and he and Rin really make a good team.

Yes, Anko would totally make fun of his hair and he deserves it although Madara would think he looks really good but since Anko threw the whole "Rin would like you better if you cut it" at his face, Obito turned it back to his original short, spikey hair XDD

Also Rin being a violin jesus is just absolutely perfect YES LMAOO what a talented cinammon roll

Also how about him and Rin playing music together?? Cutest thing really

Ahhh gosh this whole post really hits the teenage vibe

#team minato #anko mitarashi #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #modern au #high school au #naruto shippuden #sakumo hatake #might gai

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computerexploder · 1 year

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#links #deerhoof

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frozenwolftemplar · 9 months

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Writer's Month Day 7: In the Mountains

Fandom: Tangled: the Series (though once again, just Cassandra here; keeping things consistent for the nonce 😊)

Rating: G (very consistent)

Summary: Cassandra knows it's ridiculous, but she still can’t help but feel a sort of...kinship with the mountains of Corona. (not much plot again today, but the prose is kinda pretty, so there's that).

+++

There are mountains ringing Corona to the north, arcing along its border and extending down into the west where they taper off gently, forgivingly, into foothills. They are not conventionally pretty mountains. Too short to be as awesome as the ones that are the staunch guardians of Arendelle, those monstrous yet beautiful things that stand in state around the small seaside kingdom even as their slopes rumble warnings to those who mistake them as docile things and attempt a climb (folly unless you know how to Listen and Respect).

Nor are they lush and green and *alive* with jungles that peer, coquettishly, out over Neserdnia through fingers of mist, giggling as monsoon rains patter gaily against the banana leaves and fill the bromeliads that adorn them. Corona’s are some awkward, in-between sort of mountains that are perpetually caught in those uncomfortable teenage years, albeit one of cliffs and peaks and foliage rather than growing limbs and shifting senses of the world.

Clusters of tall, impassable wolf’s teeth of mountains tower over shorter, smiling ones that even a stooped-over dowager could navigate with nary more than a good walking stick. The trees populating their slopes (well, those that have slopes accepting of trees) are thoroughly lacking the sort of homogeneity that makes for a picturesque autumnal landscape painting, maples and oaks and birches with brilliant autumn finery stand crowded amongst spruces and feathery white pines and hollies who refuse to believe that green is *ever* out of season, themselves interspersed with a few grumbling plums determined to buck nature’s tide and insist that *purple* leaves are the color of the future (never mind the future never arrives, or that the other factions whisper judgments among themselves). The end result is a chaotic composition of too much color and too many opinions to ever make them a popular choice among Corona’s artistically inclined.

A handful are capped in snow, but not the sugar-dusted stuff of confectioner’s labor; treacherous, volatile piles perched in precarious ways that are merely biding their time as they wait for the permission granted by so little as a whisper to warrant crashing forth in an avalanche of white and temper. And the slopes that are bare of green or white? The drab gray tumbling down them, pimpled with boulders that jut from the scree at odd, cursed angles, is hardly the sort of harsh beauty the poets write of.

True, the royals have a cabin nestled somewhere among the harsher peaks, but the spot was chosen by an unfortunate king who felt God had erred and placed him on a throne instead of a hermit’s cave, valuing privacy and remoteness over convenience or pleasing views. It is not a popular retreat among the monarchy, as a whole preferring friendlier country houses they let from gentility who are in the market for favors and boasts, and it’s existence is mostly forgotten (and a topic of debate among the midnight patrons of Corona’s taverns). Rare is the king or queen who *chooses* to retreat to the world of ridges and cliffs.

So, no, Corona’s mountains are not pretty, but Cassandra doesn’t care. Gazing out at them from one of the guest suite’s windows, basket of barely-used bed linens in hand (honestly, if Duchess Stockton *insisted* on a new set every damn day, she could change them herself), she can’t help but feel a sort of...kinship with the mountains.

Ridiculous, she knows (they’re *mountains,* just glorified piles of rocks), but, well, she knows how people see them. The mountains. Too harsh in too many places, soft in all the wrong ones, and the antithesis of the prevailing idea of beauty. But there was more to them than that, she knew.

Because she saw.

The crags caught the setting sun as it westered towards the foothills, filling with pools of molten gold; the trees in all their shades rippled like she’d always fancied the rainbow scales of an Iris Basilisk did; and the way your eye traversed the line they drew across the sky, now rising, now falling, now climbing so high into the firmament it stole your breath, spoke of things that sent a thrill thrumming through her sinews.

Secrets waiting to be discovered. Adventure waiting to be had. Wildness waiting to be traversed so it may bestow upon the dauntless soul who dared ride through it exploits the stuff of legends and renown. And-

“Cassandra?”

Judith’s impertinent voice broke her reverie, and Cass turned from the vista with a sharper than normal scowl. “Aren’t you finished *yet?*“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done.” Cass hefted the basket against her hip and stalked towards the door where Judith was leaning against it insouciantly. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Judith canted her head to a side, auburn locks brushing her shoulder as she looked at Cassandra consideringly. “Laundry, same as you, though mayhaps not for much longer.” A wicked smile flashed across her face and she used a foot to shove her own basket of bedsheets and clothes across the threshold. “Be a dear and carry my load down to the laundry yard, Cassandra? Since you’re going that way.”

“I’m not doing your-“

“And Maybe I’ll forget to tell Crowley I caught you daydreaming, hmm?”

A hectic red flashed up Cass’s neck as Judith gave a saucy wave and sauntered off down the hall, skirts swishing like the tail of a cat that fancied itself clever. She kept her tongue to herself, though (fists too, regretfully) and set her basket atop Judith’s so she could carry them two high, consoling herself with the fact that Judith’s lipstick was smudged in that singular way Crowley perennially disapproved of and always resulted in a night spent with supper dishes.

Cass paused before leaving the room, though, hand on the knob, and cast one last, longing look out the window before shutting the door on the mountains.

-And freedom.

#writersmonth #writersmonth2023 #in which i write #fanfic #tts fanfic #cassandra #tangled the series #my writing

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paulisded · 11 months

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The Ledge #570: Holiday Playlist

"Shambolic" maybe an overused word when it comes to my favorite band, The Replacements, but it's an apt term for tonight's show. Or at least the first ten minutes. Yes, it's a mini-disaster. After airing this week's selection for the "52 Weeks of Teenage Kicks" series by The Vibrators, I talked about the fact that you can now purchase the version I world premiered last week by Jeremy Porter at his bandcamp. (http://jeremyporter.bandcamp.com). In fact, please go purchase it now, as all proceeds go to the Hater Kitty Army. But after introducing a re-airing the tune, my broadcast program decided to completely rearrange my playlist and a completely different tune aired for a few seconds.

I quickly fixed the issue, though, and everything was fine after that. Tonight's show is a collecton of tunes that I've been listening to in my spare time. There's a set devoted to my favorite rock and roll couple, Amy Rigby and Wreckless Eric, inspired by "Do You Remember This", a clever little tale of their relationship that may or may not be true. There's a set that sort of centers around Johnny Thunders, beginning with a couple of Kinks songs before heading into a couple of different directions.

There's also a long set inspired by Some New Kind of Kick, the memoir of Kid Congo Powers. Wow, what a story. What a life! A chance meeting on the street with future Gun Club leader Jeffrey Lee Pierce led to him picking up the guitar, and withn a few years he was a part of not only the Gun Club but The Cramps and Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds!

Other sets include a handful of fabulous Rum Bar Records new releases, and favorites by the likes of Exploding Hearts, T. Rex, The Knitters, and others. Concluding the show is a little tribute to the late Tina Turner with a track from her fabled 1969 run opening for The Rolling Stones.

And like always, I must again plead with y'all for more versions of "Teenage Kicks". If you are a musician, or have any contact with artists that could record their own take on the classic, please contact me!

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE SHOW!

1. The Vibrators - Teenage Kicks

2. Jeremy Porter and The Tucos - Teenage Kicks

3. The Anderson Council - Times On Thames

4. The Undertones - Listening In

5. The Undertones - Rock 'n' Roll

6. Amy Rigby & Wreckless Eric - Do You Remember That

7. Amy Rigby - Dancing With Joey Ramone

8. Wreckless Eric - Take The Cash (K.A.S.H)

9. The Kinks - Strangers

10. The Kinks - Johnny Thunder

11. Cyanide Pills - Johnny Thunders Lived in Leeds

12. Johnny Thunders - London Boys

13. Kate Redgate - Eureka County Line

14. Carissa Johnson - Wasting Dreams

15. The Hi-End - I Need A Witness

16. Genya Ravan - Fool For A Pretty Face (2023 Remix)

17. The Downhauls - Spit the Poison Out

18. The Gun Club - For the love of Ivy

19. The Gun Club - The Las Vegas Story / Walkin' with the Beast

20. The Cramps - Rockin' Bones

21. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Deanna

22. Kid Congo & the Pink Monkey Birds - Ricky Ticky Tocky

23. T. Rex - Children of the Revolution

24. Bauhaus - Telegram Sam

25. The Members - What Do I Get?

26. The Knitters - New World

27. The Small Faces - Here Come The Nice

28. Troggs - I Can't Control Myself

29. Redd Kross - Janus, Jeanie, and George Harrison

30. The Jesus & Mary Chain - Happy When It Rains (Demo)

31. The Muffs - Everwhere I Go

32. Fucked Up - Queen Of Hearts

33. The Decibels - Hey Emily

34. The Exploding Hearts - So Bored

35. Ike & Tina Turner - I've Been Loving You Too Long

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wordpimp · 1 year

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#Spotify

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maquina-semiotica · 1 year

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Deerhoof, "Future Teenage Cave Artists"

#Deerhoof #Spotify

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valsedelesruines · 2 years

Video

youtube

Gonna paint an animal on a cave wall Gonna leave it there forever while empires fall

An entanglement of loves: love of will, love of deerhoof, love of deerhoof signing about the past, love of the past, love of the actions of people in the past, love of the ephemeral traces of those actions of people in the past, love of will and i in the present, love of the actions of us in the present, love of the ephemeral traces we may or may not leave, love of the intent behind leaving ephemeral traces in the present, love of the futile nature of those thoughts and actions, love of the desperate fight to not acknowledge our mortality, love of the fact we all share this, love of the silliness of love, love of life, and love of love.

#mine #thoughts #venus of couze #love #valentines day #deerhoof #future teenage cave artists #cave art #magdalenian #bordes

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what-else-is-there · 3 years

Audio

..:: #98. Deerhoof - O Ye Saddle Babes ::..

You never really know what you're going to get when you fire up a Deerhoof song, and sure enough, "O Ye Saddle Babes" comes loaded with all sorts of shenanigans. Rubberized bass, syncopated rhythms, atonal guitar lines, clattering synths, jumbled keyboards: it's all here. Eventually singer Satomi Matsuzaki shows up to poke fun at cowboys with some wry readings of their favorite sayings while horses clip-clop in the background.

Best Moment: The repeated wry taunt of "Can't we all just get along, little doggies?" that arrives with the descending, buzzing guitars at 2:13.

The Album [Future Teenage Cave Artists]: 7/10

The Playlist [WEIT?'s 100 Songs Of 2020]

#What Else Is There's 100 Songs Of 2020 #Deerhoof #O Ye Saddle Babes #Future Teenage Cave Artists #Satomi Matsuzaki #indie rock #experimental rock #noise pop #art pop #noise rock #art rock #rock #indie #experimental #music #new music #2020

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Deerhoof — Future Teenage Cave Artists (Joyful Noise)

Future Teenage Cave Artists by Deerhoof

It feels apt that Deerhoof’s new album, their 15th, is being released into a world riven by chaos, from the coronavirus pandemic to the exposure of police brutality against Black Americans. A ragged, gnarly listen, Future Teenage Cave Artists is, fittingly, one of the band’s most experimental offerings in years, offering short bursts of breakneck, catchy garage rock, counterbalanced by plenty of reverb-drenched dissonance and eerie atmospherics. Just as it feels like it may be settling into something approaching conventional songcraft, the band chucks in a blast of competing ideas that sound like they’re eating each other alive, desperately scrambling for survival.

Despite the chaotic prickliness, there are thematic through lines to offer footholds. The first half of the album tells a story with its track titles alone, rallying the disenfranchised youth who have had their voices silenced to go back to a primitive existence in order to tell the story of civilization’s downfall. On the cover, these future teenage cave artists depict mankind terrorized by a blob that casts its withering gaze via a smartphone camera. The “Baby Boo,” “Saddle Babes” and “Spirited Deerchildren” must come together in order to forge a new world amid the flames of John Dieterich and Ed Rodriguez’s duelling guitars. Riffs resound simultaneously triumphant and bitterly enraged.

“New Orphan Asylum for Spirited Deerchildren,” tellingly sequenced at the heart of the track list, is a splintered ballad swathed in static. It feels like several songs rolled into one; a refuge for a handful of song ideas smooshed together. Likewise, “Zazeet” is a mad jam-room scramble in search of a song. Then, the second half of the record seems to tell the story of the previous generation on the way out: “Fraction Anthem,” “Farewell Symphony” and “Reduced Guilt” speak of regret while the music rages splenetic. “Damaged Eyes Squinting Into The Beautiful Overhot Sun” could only be referring to climate change, its climax a chromatic ascent into the shimmering nightmare of perpetual global warming. The album ends on an elegiac note, as Greg Saunier sits alone at the piano and plays us some Bach to soothe our aching souls. Finally, a moment of solace after a bareback ride through hell on earth.

Tim Clarke

#deerhoof #future teenage cave artists #joyful noise #tim clarke #albumreview #dusted magazine #punk #pop #indie #noise

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losangeleslovesyou · 4 years

Video

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DEERHOOF : FUTURE TEENAGE CAVE ARTISTS (LYRICS)

#deerhoof #future teenage cave artists #lyrics

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nowayzinedine · 3 years

Video

youtube

Deerhoof.

#music video #Damaged Eyes Squinting Into The Beautiful Overhot Sun #Deerhoof #Future Teenage Cave Artists #Joyful Noise Recordings #Anders Ericsson #Little Moving Pictures

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mxdwn · 4 years

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Album Review: Deerhoof - Future Teenage Cave Artists

https://music.mxdwn.com/2020/06/02/reviews/album-review-deerhoof-future-teenage-cave-artists/

#deerhoof #future teenage cave artists

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the-z-part · 3 years

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A Personal List of Lietners, or Book Recs for Each TMA Entity

These are not all horror novels (although some of them are), but I think they speak to themes that will resonate if you’re particularly into one fear or another.

Feel free to add your own recs! I’m obviously limited by what I’ve read (ie I suspect that Wilder Girls is a good corruption book, but I haven’t read it yet).

Books with canon queer characters are marked with an asterix!

The Eye

- The Children’s Hour* by Lillian Hellman. An accusation made by one of the students brings scrutiny and heartbreak to a girls’ school. OG queer tragedy. (CW: suicide)

The Spiral

- Finna* by Nino Cipri. Two exes working at fantasy!IKEA must find a lost customer by travelling through even-more-fantasy!IKEAs.

- “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gillman. Imprisoned by a husband who thinks he’s helping her, a woman sees a figure in the ugly wallpaper of her room. You read it for English class, but read it again.

- Challenger Deep by Neal Shusterman. Caden’s a normal teen whose friends and family are starting to notice that his mental health is not quite ideal. Caden is on a ship heading for the Marianas Trench, torn between loyalty to the captain and the allure of the deep. (You know that song Ship in a Bottle?) (CW: forced institutionalization)

The End

- They Both Die at the End* by Adam Silvera. Two teen boys get a call that they’re going to die (this is normal in the world). They meet, and decide to spend the day really living.

- Scythe by Neal Shusterman. In a utopia that has moved past natural death, two teenagers learn to kill for the greater good.

The Stranger

- The Murders of Molly Southborne by Tade Thompson. Every time Molly bleeds, her blood creates a perfect clone of her that wants to kill her. This is inconvenient to say the least.

- The Call by Peader Ó Guilín. In a fantasy future Ireland, teenagers train for the day they’ll be transported to the fairy realm, where they’ll be hunted for sport.

- Coraline by Neil Gaiman. Coraline finds a secret passage to a house just like hers, but full of delightful, magical things--and another mother who wants to keep her forever.

The Lonely

- Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel. The food Tita cooks make those who eat it feel her emotions--it’s the closest anyone comes to understanding her.

The Desolation

- The Fifth Season* by N K Jemisin. Geology-magic causes an apocalypse, but it might also keep a grieving mother alive.

The Slaughter

- The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion* by Margaret Killjoy. A spirit summoned to protect a commune starts killing people. Queer and punk rock af

- The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley. “They said the war would turn us into light.”

The Vast

- To Be Taught, If Fortunate* by Becky Chambers. A group of astronauts jump from planet to planet, cataloguing the life they find. But then their updates from home stop arriving...

- Into the Drowning Deep* by Mira Grant. Killer mermaids, hard science, and genuinely every kind of rep you can think of! (also has some Stranger stuff going on in it)

The Buried

- The Unfortunates by Kim Liggett. Teens are trapped in a cave while hiking, and something is hunting them through the dark. (Ok, I couldn’t actually think of a book for this fear, but I asked the inimitable @acesaru and she recommended it. She hasn’t steered me wrong yet!)

The Dark

- The City in the Middle of the Night* by Charlie Jane Anders. Humanity struggles to survive on a tidally-locked planet: one side is pitch dark, the other blazing with light. Sophie, a student, is exiled into the darkness.

- The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau. Ember is the one bright spot in the darkness, but blackouts are becoming more frequent as the city falls apart, and only Lina and Doon seem to be paying attention.

The Corruption

- The Hot Zone by Richard Preston. Ebola! It’s the only nonfiction on the list but Oh Boy. (CW for graphic depictions of illness)

- Code Orange by Caroline B. Cooney. Can you get smallpox from a book? Mitty isn’t sure, but these terrorists seem to think so...

The Web

- The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. “No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within” (It really does have themes about, like, manipulation, but also join me in mixing Hill House and Hilltop Road up 100% of the time)

- Jane, Unlimited* by Kristin Cashore. An orphaned artist goes to a spooky house. She has to make a choice, and we see every possible consequence for that choice. Genre-bending and bi!

- Middlegame by Seanan McGuire. Psychically-linked twins, Rodger and Dodger, are manipulated by the alchemist who created them and controlled (almost) every aspect of their lives. Weird timeline shit!

The Flesh

- The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton. Girls with the power to mold bodies and make people beautiful vie to become the Queen’s favorite in the beautiful, dangerous court of Orleans.

- Unwind by Neil Shusterman. Three teens scheduled to be “unwound” and have all their organs sold to other people flee their fate. Some really gnarly body horor.

The Hunt

- Vicious by V. E. Schwab. Victor and Eli used to be best friends, but after years in prison, Victor will stop at nothing to get his revenge on Eli. Also, they both have superpowers.

- “The Most Dangerous Game” by Richard Cornell. A long short story about. the hunter becoming the hunted. Spoiler: the most dangerous game IS man.

The Extinction

- Borne by Jeff Vandermeer. The Company destroyed the world, and then a giant bear destroyed the Company. Only a few survivors remain, including Rachel, a scavenger, who finds a creature called Borne and decides to care for it, even as it grows increasingly stronger and more terrifying.

- Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler. A girl who literally feels others’ pain quietly develops a religion while America crumbles around her. (CW: sexual relationship with a really big age gap)

- All the Birds in the Sky* by Charlie Jane Anders. A witch and a mad scientist fall in love at the end of the world. The most real-feeling apocalypse I’ve ever, ever read. (Not really a CW but if reading things that remind you of Current Events makes you uncomfy, beware, because Charlie Jane really nailed it)

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