#what is with me and musicians who cross their arms a notable amount

[datawyrms]

Expectations Fulfilled

Dannymay 2020 Day 18 : Horror (As a warning this is way too long? I don’t know how this happened. The answer is way too much setup.)

The last fight with Valerie had not gone well. Danny had hesitated a beat too long, seemingly frozen in indecision and took a nasty blow to the chest for it. That was their friend for you, get too worried about hurting the person trying to kill you and forget to dodge again. At least he’d dropped out of the sky over a wooded area, giving them a chance to pull him out of the fire yet again.

“Danny, you have to change back before she sees you!” Sam hissed at the glowing boy who was clutching his head. “Do you need us to carry you?” her eyes scanned the branches above, it didn’t look like he’d taken any down by slamming into them, but he could always just land badly.

“I will totally put you in this thermos over letting her drag you off to Vlad.” Tucker warned, listening for the tell tale hum of the ghost hunter’s jet board.

“I-I’m okay.” Danny finally responded, starting to get back to his feet. “Don’t soup me. Hate that,” he shook his head still rubbing at it with one hand. “I’m just a bit dizzy”.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that hero act anymore, you hear me?”

“Hurry up!”

The ghost gave a stiff nod, finally clear headed enough to switch back to human form. He stumbled, but the three of them had enough practice by now to get moving quickly. It wasn’t likely Valarie would connect the three of them with Phantom, but with their luck she’d assume a ghost was what had gotten Danny limping along.

“We really need a better plan for when she catches up to you, talking it out isn’t working.”

“What, I love being blamed for beating myself up.”

Sam scowled at her flippant friend. “I know you’re worried about hurting her, but she can probably take a few hits. Just so she’s a little more cautious about going after you so hard.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a fall from that high up very well though.” the half ghost grimaced as he watched the sky.

“Dude, you barely took that fall. Sam has a point.” Tucker handed over the backpack as his friend steadied, keeping close in case Danny was only acting like he was good to go again.

“I’ll think about it.” Which was basically Dannyanto for ‘no’, but there wasn’t much use in trying to convince him.

That is why it was so strange the next day in school. Tucker spotted Valerie running out of class with a flimsy excuse, but Danny hadn’t even made an attempt to leave. It could have been something that wasn’t ghost related, but spotting the large white and green serpent ghost slammed to the ground from the window confirmed it was indeed a ghost thing.

“Hey. Aren’t you gonna go out there?” he leaned over with a hiss, Lancer too distracted by the potential danger to his students to really be picky about talking in class.

“Huh?” Danny stared at him blankly.

“The ghost? That Val’s fighting?” he clarified, wondering if his friend had simply slept through his ghost sense.

Danny looked out the window, looking more bored than alarmed. “Nah. She has it.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“You guys were the ones saying we needed a plan. So I’ll just let her deal with it,” he shrugged, slouching back in his chair.

That didn’t really seem like a plan he’d normally come up with. Sure, it was sensible, but that’s why it didn’t make any sense. Danny looked normal enough though, maybe he was just tired of getting yelled at by someone he was helping. “If you say so. It is just an animal ghost,”. He dropped the subject, taking several looks back as their teacher ushered them all off to a ‘safer area’. Valerie probably wouldn’t have any trouble alone, but his friend’s complete lack of interest was a little creepy.

Sam’s opener at lunch meant he wasn’t alone in that thought. “Aren’t you maybe a little too carefree about this?”

“No? If she gets beat up then it’s not my problem anymore,” he focused back on his sandwich, ignoring the twin looks of bafflement he was getting for a few minutes. When they continued he muttered “What? I’ll deal with it if it threatens you guys, you’re my friends”.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your parents don’t have some weird ghost mood changer or something?”

“I’m fine Sam. I finally agree with you guys and now you’re surprised I’m not acting like a superhero, sheesh.” he rolled his eyes, irritation creasing his brow.

“You gotta admit it was pretty sudden. We know how stubborn you are,” Tucker crossed his arms, unable to shake the feeling that something was off.

“You said it enough that it made sense. She hates me and wants to waste me, so why keep bailing her out? See how she likes the ‘evil ghost’ not helping,”

“You’ll help if she gets in serious trouble though, right?” Tucker hesitated before asking.

“If I feel like it.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look, biting back any further questions. Whatever was up with Danny, they probably wouldn’t get out of the half ghost himself. They’d have to invite themselves over tonight and take a look around for anything new and dangerous.

“See? Totally fine.” Danny prompted them to look around, spotting the ghost hunter entering the lunchroom with a scowl.

“Uh Danny, she’s a little hurt. See her arm?”

He raised an eyebrow. “So? I take worse, you’ve taken worse. Why do you care?”

Sam really wanted to ask him why he didn’t care, but the elbow from Tucker had her reconsider. With the weird apathy, it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to get on his bad side.

Yet they couldn’t find any sort of weapon or tool that might have explained why their friend had flipped from being completely unwilling to aggressively defend himself against Valerie to ignoring ghost fights he had no interest in. Any questions or nudges to help were always met with reluctance, as if he resented the very idea of assisting. Sure, he’d go the second a ghost might threaten his family or friends, but otherwise he seemed to have set the rest of the town in a ‘not my problem’ box.

“Maybe he wants to focus on his studies. You know he can’t work for NASA if he keeps pulling his kind of grades.” Jazz was a little put off by his behaviour, but couldn’t deny that the increased amount of sleep and downtime was reversing her brother’s downward trend in school.

“Isn’t it weird though? It’s not like it was our idea for him to use his ghost powers to help people, he did that on his own,” Sam pointed out, frustrated that Jazz would just ignore all of that.

“You know I can totally hear you guys, right?” Danny called from upstairs, and they could swear the room had gotten colder.

“Yup! Eavesdropping is rude little bro”

“So is gossiping behind my back!”

Jazz gave a shrug, covering up a laugh from his irritated retort. “He’s not acting all that different guys, really.”

“Which I’ve been saying on repeat all week.” Danny groused, hands in his pockets as he slouched into the room. “I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not. So I stopped. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“You weren’t pretending, you were really helping people,” Sam pressed, earning another eye roll.

“Sure. That’s why everyone hates my guts. Or wants to poke around in them.”

“Well it’s up to you dude. Just let us know if anything feels off?”

“I’m fine! Sheesh!”

-

Phantom had been strange since their last fight. In some ways it had been nice, not needing to constantly chase the pest down only for him to get away yet again. She was pretty sure she’d caught more than the glowing terror had this week, mostly because the ghost barely showed up. Perhaps it had finally decided the weaker ghosts were beneath it, or didn’t get it enough attention. She didn’t miss the ghost, but she could admit she was running more ragged than usual for it.

“Get out of my way.” the ghost had the audacity to bark an order at her after flinging Ember to the ground, making her completely miss her shot.

“You’re the one in my way Phantom.” she growled back, getting some satisfaction as the ghost’s eyes snapped to her hands and the ectogun she held. “You can’t fool me, I know you’re just an evil ghost”

The green eyed ghost glared at her for that “Am I now?” he paused in midair, eyes flicking between Ember who was getting back up for another go, and the red clad ghost hunter in front of him. “Hey Ember!”

“What! I don’t need any of your awful puns, dipstick”

“How ‘bout a truce? First one to get the hunter grounded wins.” he ducked quickly to dodge the shot Valerie fired.

“‘Bout time you learned what fun is, kid. You’re on!” the ghostly musician regained her place in the air, apparently willing to forgive a punch to the ground if it meant ganging up on a ghost hunter.

“Hey Val? I suggest you run.” With that he fired on her, only managing to dodge the blow by having her board stop floating. She always knew the white haired boy was evil, but she never really expected him to team up with another ghost. Still, she was a better ghost hunter than most. She could take them.

She flew low, counting on the extra obstacles to throw off the ghosts aim. The side benefit of not having far to fall was a notable one as well as the larger soundwaves Ember could launch kept clipping the sides of the board, a little too wide to completely dodge. She rocked wildly but was able to keep her feet, using the time in between volleys to launch a few attacks of her own back. Judging by the grunts she’d hit one or the other a few times, but not directly. She urged the board to go faster, eyes scanning for a good place to turn the tables on the ghosts. It wasn’t a great spot, but the two buildings could provide cover once she got behind one. The board shrieked at the hard turn she demanded of it, but managed to get down the alley without clipping the sides.

“Who’s the rat now, huh?” Ember’s taunt was infuriating, but she forced herself to wait. She had to take at least one of them out. The first shot took the ghost by surprise as she rounded the corner, but the second was a little too far down.

“The thing about corners is you can’t really surprise me if I don’t come that way.”

She jerked in surprise, trying to face the ghost who had somehow gotten behind her-though the building of course how had she been so stupid-? Yet she couldn’t dodge the punch that threw her off the board and on to the ground, skidding to where the guitar wielding ghost was waiting.

“Well, that was fun. Should do it again sometime!” she gave the ghost hunter a kick before taking to the air, eyeing Phantom a little warily. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Surprise. Touch my friends and I’ll kill you again. Got it?” he started cheerfully enough, but the warning was nearly a snarl.

“Chill out dipstick. Weird little humans off limits, got it!”

Valerie tried to rise as flame-head fled, but was forced back down by Phantom’s boot. She managed not to grunt in pain, but she didn’t have too many options to remove the ghost’s foot from her chest at the moment.

“As for you, Valerie,” he ghost was still clearly furious, but seemed a little lost now that he’d actually knocked her down. 

“Danny?”

Valerie’s heart raced. Tucker? He was a bit of a dweeb, but she couldn’t let this ghost scum hurt him. She struggled, trying to unbalance the ghost while it was distracted, rolling free and dragging the ghost down with a grunt.

“What now?” Phantom seemed peevish, ignoring the ghost hunter completely after getting back up. As if she was so little threat he could just ignore her.

“I think you might be going a little far dude.” Tucker really shouldn’t be trying to reason with this monster, but it was giving her time to ready her weapon.

“Hey, she wanted evil!”

Tucker looked incredibly uncomfortable, eyes darting between the ghost and his disguised classmate. “How about no more fighting for today, okay?”

“You can’t be defending this monster! It can’t hide what it is!” she aimed her reclaimed weapon.

The ghost’s more relaxed air died the second she finished speaking, temperature plunging as he whirled to face her. It was strange how he seemed more fixed on her hand than the barrel of the gun, but that didn’t really matter all that much with the ghost’s hands and eyes glowing a furious green.

She stuck to her guns, ready to fire and distract the thing so Tucker could run Yet he didn’t run, instead pulling a Fenton thermos quickly out of his backpack, looking more worried about her than anything else.

“Yeah okay, you need a time out. Sorry.” The ghost didn’t even react to the words, though it blinked a few times once it realized the Fenton’s invention was pulling it away from its intended target. Otherwise it didn’t struggle, leaving Tucker to quickly cap the thermos. “Okaaay. I’m just gonna. Go now. Bye!” he sprinted away before she could demand he hand over the thermos so she could dispose of the ghost inside. Didn’t he see how dangerous it was?

-

Thinking simply hurt. Tucker and Sam were worried sick, babbling on and on about how he was acting weird, that he could have seriously hurt Valarie. As if hurting her mattered. Maybe it did? Urgh. He just wanted them all to stop talking and let him figure it out.

“Danny, this isn’t normal. We just want to help,”

“Why is any of this surprising? I’m always like this.” he insisted, only earning worried frowns again.

“No, you don’t usually decide to attack people for calling you evil. What’s gotten into you?” Sam was looking him in the eye. She did genuinely seem to be concerned, even though it didn’t make any sense.

“Nothing? I’ve been half ghost for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to ask Frostbite to check him or something.”

“There’s no way we can get to the Farfrozen if we start now, and we can’t trust him to go on his own right now.” Tucker frowned, punching plans into his PDA.

“I’m right here guys.”

Sam dragged her hand across her face. “Danny, you were going to waste Valerie, we get to question your judgement right now.”

“Of course I was. I’ll show her a monster,” her muttered, eyes flaring green in annoyance.

Tucker paled a little, still looking at the PDA. “Yeah that? That’s what we’re worried about.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you guys.”

“Danny, that’s not the problem here!”

The half ghost sighed, slumping on his bed. They still weren’t making sense, and everything was starting to itch horribly. He rubbed at his shoulder, but it only seemed to make the itching sensation worse. Something was in the way of what needed scratching, but he couldn’t quite reach it. Very annoying.

“Can you stop dropping the temperature? It’s like a meat locker in here.”

“I’m not doing anything.” he stared at the stickers on the ceiling, idly wondering if something had happened to the others to make all of them make zero sense. Or to make them forget that he was a half ghost. Of course it was cold. He kept scratching at his shoulder, nails desperately trying to find whatever it was that was making him feel so uncomfortable. Something tight and restrictive that itched furiously.

“We go Friday. There’s no way we can sneak away that long until then.”

“You’re overreacting guys.” That, and a trip to the ghost zone would be pretty boring.

“No, you’re under reacting. Just trust us, okay?”

Sam and Tucker remained weirdly on edge, watching him like he was some sort of bomb that might go off at any moment. Shouldn’t they be used to all this by now? So what if he found it a little fun that people were too scared to keep eye contact with him for very long? They were only unsettled, and the fear always gave a welcome kick of energy. It distracted from the itching.

He wanted to be a little more scary than just simply unsettling, but Sam and Tucker insisted the school was a hands off zone now. Maybe he should have picked different humans to be so attached too, as these ones were being incredibly boring all of a sudden. Didn’t they want to have a bit of fun? Simply being unsettling with his presence was all well and good, but it wasn’t the same as a proper scared-for their-lives affair. They didn’t even approve when he went after Skulker for daring to set foot in his territory! He’d been ‘too careless’ for dragging the ghost near some of the fleeing humans while they fought. Of course he had! What was the point of fighting if he wasn’t going to get some good back from it? He could do what he wanted with his food.

Really, it just made him want to tear his hair out. They were the ones who had changed, but they kept insisting it was the other way around.

Valerie was incredibly weird though. She kept talking to him as if they were friends. It always made the itching worse, trying to pretend he was glad she was at school and not a smear on the sidewalk. Humans were stupid. It wasn’t like he was hiding what he was. Though it was one of the times that she approached him that he finally solved the itching problem, nails finally tearing through the obnoxious, too tight skin.

She’d backed away with a gasp, as if the green stain on his hands should be some sort of surprise. “What happened to you? Don’t worry, I’ll get help!”

She seemed confused when he laughed at her nonsensical question. Flexing his freed claws was fun, but he really did need to get the rest of this restricting mess off. His right hand clawed at his arm, the ectoplasm that oozed from his self inflicted wounds was both freeing and soothing at once. Stop hiding, stop pretending. 

“Nothing happened to me.” He flexed his freed arms,  green black skin more like tar than anything else, giggling when the girl recoiled from the new green eyes that bubbled to the surface to watch her squirm. 

Maybe she was that oblivious. “Someone will help you Danny, just hold on!” she insisted before sprinting down the hall. He’d chase her, but there were so many people simply watching in mute horror that he couldn’t resist trying to get a few screams out of them. No killing, Tucker and Sam wouldn’t like that, but a few scratches wouldn’t hurt all that much. Dash ought to know how kind he’d been in not retaliating sooner, really. The disgusted sounds they made as he clawed at his face was entertaining, someone fainting as he flung the discarded skin away. Some of his hair remained black, but the white went nicer with his pointed teeth, in his opinion. He let out a snarl, relishing in how they fled from some twisted half human ghost. Tucker and Sam were wrong, he absolutely should have done this sooner. Well, he’d let them know that when they showed up. They usually did. It really was a bit of a shame to just let them all run away though. Oh well.

Maybe he should free his feet, but getting through his shoes might be a bit of a pain. It was easier to drag his claws against the lockers and listen for the sounds of running feet and muffled screams. They were so scared they didn’t even need to see him.

“Danny, do you recognize us?”

Oh, there they were! “Hi. I fixed the itching.” he clawed idly at his neck, feeling more flexible with every scratch. It was much easier to keep an eye on them with the arm eyes, freeing his head to glance around the rest of the hallway.

“We noticed. Uh. I think you left half of yourself on the floor.” Tucker looked ill, pointedly ignoring a red and green splatter on the wall next to him.

“Finally. So much scratching. You have no idea how annoying that was.” They didn’t seem happy for him though. More worried. Why? They knew he’d never hurt them. They were his humans, his favourite ones. No one got to hurt them.

“Can you...change back?” Sam asked, approaching cautiously.

“Change back to what?” his brow furrowed, fixing the blue eyes of his face to double check he was seeing correctly. Was she upset? Weird. This was a good thing. 

“Back into yourself. Human, like us? Remember?” Tucker had taken one of his hands, careful of the claws. They were still the same general shape, even if Tucker’s skin was thin and weak and warm.

“I’m not like you though. You were there.” he tilted his head, wondering if they’d forgotten that too somehow.

“You’re still human, Danny,” Sam stepped in as Tucker seemed distracted in wiping the green and black film off of his hands.

“Nope. Something in the middle.” he let out a hum, sure he’d heard something. “Being split like that was wrong. Like playing pretend all the time.” The beast stretched, the cracking of his lower back like gunshots in the abandoned hall. Two more steps. So there was a sneak around!

“This isn’t you, you know that. You don’t want to hurt or scare people.”

“Mmm? That’s what monsters do, isn’t it?” Why did Sam decide to hug him now? He couldn’t get at the rest of his torso like that.

Tucker was very confusing, rubbing at the water from his eyes. “Just let us try to help you fix this, okay? You aren’t a monster.” 

“Sure I am. What else could I be?”

“Who told you that? Why would you listen to them over us?” Sam was brave as usual, shaking him a little instead of backing away.

“I told you that too! Are you sure you guys aren’t the ones forgetting stuff?” he frowned at the two of them, ear twitching. More steps. The sneak was close, and he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“It doesn’t matter who it was. Can you switch to ghost form?” Tucker sounded calm, but his face was still leaking. Sam had joined him, though she was more biting her lip than dripping like a faucet. 

“I’m both right now. I just said that!” They really weren’t listening very well. “I’m done hiding what I am, it was uncomfortable.” The confused muttering from the sneak was fun to overhear, but it would probably be more fun if Tucker and Sam were in on it. “They don’t know what I mean by that, you might have to explain it for em.”

“Explain what? To who? No one’s here Danny. It’s just us.”

“Us and the sneakkkkk.” he sprang forward, grabbing on to the corner with his claws, twisting his neck to look down at the sneak who backed away with a yelp. “Hiiii Val. You gonna run again?” he snickered when her fear morphed into anger, apparently recognizing him now.

“You sick creep! What did you do to Danny?”

“Valerie! Don’t make him mad!” Sam called out, the two of them sprinting over to join the  sneaky ghost hunter.

“No one listens! I’m Danny. I’ve always been Danny. You just didn’t notice! That’s okay, almost nobody did.” Oh she was very funny when she glared at him like that.

“You’re lying. Danny is nothing like you.”

“Danny is everything like me. Right Tuck? She doesn’t listen to ghosts. You sure I can’t just kill her?” he glanced back at his friends, disappointed to see the no already written on their faces.

“No! That would be bad, don’t do that!” Tucker stammered, unsure where to keep his eyes. He’d have an easier time if he had eyes on his arms like he did now. Maybe his friends could be half ghosts too. Hmm.

“Valarie, I know this doesn’t make any sense, just listen and don’t set him off.”

“Sam, this thing has done something awful to your friend and you’re worried about the ghost’s feelings? What’s wrong with you?” the ghost hunter stood her ground even without her fancy gear, glaring up at the perching mutated mess above her.

“All of that up there is Danny, okay? Something’s wrong, and we’ll explain it once he’s better, but you just need to trust us right now.”

“Mmmhmm. A monster just like you said.” he rocked back and forth a little, blue eyes fixed on Valerie’s clenched fist. “You’re lucky my friends won’t let me kill you Val. Even though I’m not hiding anymore.”

Tucker noticed how Danny’s blue eyes seemed fixed on the girl he was tormenting, elbowing Sam to point it out.

“None of you are making any sense. He’s just possessed or something, why are you acting like this is okay?”

“Annoying.” Danny growled, showing far too many fangs. “This is what you wanted! You say I’m not a hero so I stop.”

Tucker and Sam looked ill. “Valarie, what do you have on your hand?”

“Why does my jewelry matter now?” she didn’t look at them, too busy scowling at the monster on the wall. “I didn’t say anything like that to Danny.”

“Yes you did! You are awful at this. Phantom was Danny and vise versa. Keep up!” the hybrid snorted. “Both are me. Both are very, very tired of you and your orders.”

“It’s important! Where did you get it?” Sam had apparently decided she didn’t have time for Valarie to be confused, trying to grab at her hand and cursing when she saw it. “Nevermind, I don’t care, just smash it!”

“You still aren't’ making sense.” She was reaching for a blaster that wasn’t there, looking between all three now as possible threats.

“Then you say I’m evil. So I comply. Now I stop hiding and still you are complaining! Make up your mind! Or let me kill you, that’d be fun.” Plaster cracked beneath the creature’s claws as it leaned forward, uncomfortably close. The out of place blue eyes flicked from the red ring to her face and back again. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted Val? Or should I call you master?”

(oh look a sort of continuation)

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #Tucker Foley #sam manson #valerie gray #my stuff #why did i spend all day on this #i hope it was a decent buildup payoff #horror is a lot about suspense to me #but idono if i really got that part #there's some blood but it's pretty glossed over idono #please scream thoughts at me they make my day lol #body horror #if i should tag more things say so i am Bad At Tumblr :v

[feastofcadavers]

The trek through town was surprisingly uneventful. Not many souls walked through the streets, whether it be due to time or some other means wasn't seen nor necessarily mattered to the two of them. The only notable event whilst walking across the cold cement was Aloe's observation of Mint's visible flinching and discomfort when some other person would pass by. Though they'd act upon the noticed response when they were sure no other passerby would come close to hear them, it seems this flinching wasn't reserved just for closeness, but touch as well. "What is it that is causing you to jerk and tense when someone is near? No one here suspects us of being what we are..." The violinist gave a small tremble beneath the other's touch, though quickly composed himself as he tugged himself out of it. "I know, I know we are no more than normal to others, but... What if someone knows without us knowing? And simply never tell us, only to report us to one of those hunters, or-?"

"Your irrationality only causes them to be more suspicious than if there was nothing wrong. Guilty beings make their guilt known through their body language, specifically one's eyes." The researcher made a half-hearted motion towards their own, only caring to ensure they didn't accidentally whack their own face. "I am a special case for the tell of the optics, but you are not. The fear in your eyes will no doubt be prominent if you are moving so much in your nervousness." Being told this so bluntly, or as blunt as Aloe's superfluous vocabulary would allow them, it somewhat felt... Exposing? Is that how it could be described? Mint wasn't sure of such, but tried to muster up some form of confidence within himself to keep his anxieties about public appearance so apparent. "I understand... Though, about your eyes... They are compound, aren't they?"

That was something that wouldn't prompt more than a blink from the taller of the two. It was a surprise, yes, but leave it to Aloe to give as little response as possible to such. "I... Yes, they are. However, one could always claim such as a trick of the light. I have never seen another one with our affliction have this form of alteration without other horrific alterations to the form to cause them to be insectoid... From what I have observed, in the least." There was skepticism from such a quickly made response, but as much as Mint would be worried for them, he could hold just a bit of trust to the statement. Aloe did have a way with words, be it for convincing, altering the mood of a conversation in a near instant, or anything more. "I sure hope you're right about that..." Mint would mumble, letting the air sit in stillness before turning away and continuing his street-side trek. Aloe gave no more than a pause before following close behind.

Raising gaze to the afternoon sky, Mint was almost at ease before the ground beneath him was squishy, but only for one step. "Hmm... Another slice of bread." Aloe surmised without a second thought, squinting at it whilst Mint lifted and shook his leg to get it off of his shoe. The bread fell off with a small plop to the cement, and it was almost comedic with this being the second instance of such an out-of-place food item... Until the gaze was raised to see a sandwich shop before the both of them. Mint chirped up with what he thought to be an explanation; "I mean at least now it makes sense... But it's not even a part of a sandwich. No condiments or anything." The scientist next to him hummed, looking for a sensible retort. "Someone could have asked for only bread and just left it at that."

"So you really expect someone to ask for just bread? What, like some kind of breadwich?"

"Yes."

"...Remind me for you never to take my order if we ever eat out in the future."

There was a silent acknowledgement between the two before Mint took the first steps into the sandwich shop. Whatever the name of the place was, the two didn't quite catch, but at least the inside was quaint and cheery. Plenty of bright colors all around, with laminated checkered flooring and booth seats at the edges of the shop. The lights above shining brightly on all it encapsulated, it was quite a change from the warm, homely nature of Sparkling's residence. There weren't very many customers, but those that were seemed to be having idle chit-chat and enjoying the atmosphere. Some white-haired fellow speaking with who seemed to be a biker caught Mint's eyes, or more particularly, the sandwich... Jam. It was just jam, not blood. Just jam. There was a small tremor from Mint before he wound up shaking his head, trying to get the intrusive thought of such things out of his consciousness.

"Hiya, newbies!" The voice from behind the counter practically made Mint jump, only stabilized by Aloe setting a hand upon his shoulder. "Hello there, worker," Aloe greeted back in a tone that was even more flat than usual, "pardon my acquaintance here, he has been jumpy all day." So much for hiding fears, Mint scolded himself as he huffed and took a deep breath to compose himself. "Y-yes! Pardon, there was shocking news this morning that I am still not quite over." Despite all this, the redhead with the overly joyous voice didn't seem to mind at all. "Oh, no worries! I know the recent news has been shocking to most! Why don't you two take a seat? Spinny and I be right with you two in a jiffy!"

As much as Mint wished to ask about 'Spinny', the person at the counter was gone before he could even get a syllable out. It wasn't long until the two took their seats, sitting on opposite sides of a booth that was furthest from the entrance. Aloe picked it out, so the musician figured there was probably some strategic reasoning as to why they would pick somewhere- "Here is your reminder to, quote, 'never have me take your order if we ever eat out in the future'." Uh... "Thank you...?" Aloe's gaze lowered from the flickering ceiling light above to meet Mint's. "You are welcome." At least they were courteous, even if they brought it about in a bit of a sudden manner.

And, loyal to their word, 'in a jiffy' that redhead showed back up with a small notepad in hand. "Welcome to the sandwich shop, you two! What can I get you both? Drinks for either of you?" Aloe gave a shake of the head, and Mint responded with a small pipe up of 'water'. "Ah, I see, not too keen on the drinks then! That's fine! Now, sandwiches, yea? I'll live up to my namesake as Sandwich to make sure you both get exactly what you need! We have-" And the waitress would go on and on, listing off various sandwiches and condiments for each, some of which didn't even sound pleasant or edible together. Someone with a morbid curiosity might have ordered them, but instead of focusing on that, the both of them were more focused on the little doll that rested upon Sandwich's shoulder. "Ah, pardon me-" The violinist interjected softly, causing the sandwich maker to perk up and hum to show her attention was grabbed. "-what is that upon your shoulder?"

"I think you mean 'who', dear customer of mine!" With the hand that held her pen, Sandwich gently took hold of the item that she seemed to treat with the utmost care. Long green hair that almost looked like it was made of leaves, a carefully sewn dress, button eyes and a stitched smile... It almost looked like a replica of a person with how detailed it was. "This is Spinach! Or as I like to call her, Spinny!" She couldn't help but giggle in happiness as she gently set the doll on the edge of the table- ensuring it wasn't too close to where it could fall if nudged. "She's been with me since I first opened here, and supported me through the toughest of times! She's also- ah- quite the snack!" That phrasing certainly set off alarms in both of the listener's heads. Aloe's expression went to questioning as they looked between the doll and the order taker. "Metaphorically, I assume." They mumbled, gaining a nod that was a bit too eager for their liking. "She also handles the register, but I typically take over for her because she gets shy and tries to hide a lot!" The silence in the air somewhat held a ringing, perhaps from the large amount of energy from this Sandwich character. "Anyways, what kind of sandwich would you two like?"

"Um... The Classic, please."

"Bread. Just bread."

The amount of confusion in the violinist's expression when Aloe decided to order just bread was something that wouldn't be matched for what would probably be ages. "Just bread?" He spoke with wordlessness just barely escaping him. "Just bread." The scientist would retort, crossing their arms as if it was the most casual request in the world. Though this entire exchange seemed to be lost on Sandwich, who simply scooped Spinach back up onto her shoulder and wrote down the requests. "Anything else?" A no from both parties, and Sandwich's beaming was brought even brighter than before. "Understood! You two have fun and chit-chat all you want while I get your sandwiches ready! It'll be the best, Sandwich Scout's honor!" And off she'd dart, taking just a moment to set the doll she carried by the register before heading into the back. Surprisingly, she didn't take the obvious door to the back that had the 'STAFF ONLY' sign on it. It was probably for something else, then...

"She's certainly the eccentric type, huh..." The violinist spoke as quiet of a tone as he could, just to ensure he wouldn't be heard and considered rude. Aloe didn't seem to care for such formalities and spoke normally. "I suppose so. She must either love her job or have some type of high going on within her system. Perhaps too much coffee would be the case..."

"Coffee? I figured she would be a soda type of person..."

And on the chatter would go... It seems speaking of observations was a way to get Aloe to pipe up a bit more. They wouldn't smile, nowhere near it, but... At least the conversation was pleasant. Maybe Mint could get them to open up just a smidge, after some warming up with talk of drinks and caffeine...

#🎻 the court's conflicted #🌵 the rabid researcher #🥪 the eccentric slicer #mint choco cookie #aloe cookie #sandwich cookie #📝 written scriptures #🥦 an adorable snack #spinach cookie #feastofcadavers

[hes-writer]

Break Up Playlist

Summary: Harry is a rockstar and Y/N is a law student

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1326 words

Based on: i watched a movie and got inspired

Law and music were two completely different things, yet Y/N strived to showcase her skills in both of them. Law was organized, set in stone, and rigid, but music is pliable and can mean anything you want it to. But for Y/N, it was these two that she was completely passionate about everything she did.

Y/N is book smart– that is, she knew a good amount of things just from reading about it and connecting ideas from book to the real world. She was an avid law student–albeit, struggling just a little bit–because of her parents pressuring their unaccomplished dream on her. Don’t get this wrong– Y/N definitely had some say in what she could be,–it’s just she would rather be doing something that she truly enjoyed instead of living off of fear from her family pressures and constraints.

—

A night out was something that was long overdue. For months, she had been studying night and day preparing herself for her LSAT exam. It paid off since she was now attending one of the most prestigious law schools in the country. Long days, she worked tirelessly at her job with a minimum wage paycheck to help out at home. At night, Y/N would be surrounded by heavy books and papers to memorize. But tonight, she was out with her friends–celebrating her accomplishment, passing with flying colors.

A band was on the stage performing a rock ballad. The beat of the drum was hypnotizing and the electric circuit of the guitar transmitted from the amp to the open air. Lights were dimmed to an almost orange hue, setting a warm atmosphere amongst the crowded area where everybody was joined together by four walls of red bricks decorated with picture frames of past performers and notable musicians.

One thing that caught Y/N’s attention the most was the lead singer with his soulful, raspy voice. He appeared to be engrossed in the music pumping through his earpiece. His eyes were closed in emotion, lashes fluttering ever so often from the twitching of his eyelids as he belted lyrics from his throat and which wisped past his pink lips. His mouth was touching the metal microphone, the feedback muttering some from the speakers yet Y/N couldn’t help but to let her eyes inspect the rest of him.

The instrument he carried on his back through a thick, black guitar strap was being strummed by his fingertips. She imagined the rough touch of his skin from excessive plucking and playing of the guitar, calluses littering the area from how hard he pressed on the caliber strings. His right hand weighted on a downbeat strum from the rings encompassing his fingers– the silver rose curved to a petal of perfection.

And maybe Y/N was too embarrassed to admit that she had been blatantly checking him out–although, she would pass it off more as an inspection–the curly haired boy who was practically making out with the mic was pointing directly at her with a nimble finger and she must’ve been focusing hard on trying to see the details of his rings that she did not notice his other hand lifting up to point at her.

Aurora, her friend, squealed in excitement, nudging at Y/N on her shoulder to gently push her body towards the stage. The crowd was supportive of the man, cheering Y/N on to the front and she couldn’t help but let the internal heat in her body make its way through her cheeks, causing a light blush to form on the apples.

“Go Y/N!” Aurora screamed with hands cupped around her mouth to project it even further. The drummer was pounding the bass and snare with a light beat while they waited for Y/N to join them.

Y/N searched the area behind her, craning her neck around to check if the finger was pointed at her or she was just crossed-eyed at the moment. When she confirmed that he was– indeed-signaling to her, she looked up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Me?” Y/N mouthed quietly, not seeing the point in yelling as she was certain that he wouldn’t be able to hear her anyway. He nodded, his eyes gleaming brightly because of the golden spotlight bestowed on him. The lashes on his lids casting a shadow on his face.

The unknown man outstretched the whole of his arm, palm facing up to capture hers into his own. Y/N was right–his fingertips were rough on the edges, she felt it on the back of her hand as he used some of his strength to help pull her up on the raised stage.

“Good evening. I’m Harry,” Harry greeted, “Nice to meet you,” He beamed a polite grin, and from his side, Y/N saw the indentation of his dimple. Cute, she thought.

“Thanks for having us here tonight,” He continued, to which the crowd laughed with his slight chuckle. Harry was a regular performer here and the people who came to see him were almost the same ones every night. “And I have the lovely …”

It took Y/N half a second to realize that he had tilted his body towards her, mouth touching his tool of amplification with a raised brow. Y/N opened her mouth slightly when she was interrupted, “Uh, I’m–”

“Y/N! Her name is Y/N,” She could recognize the voice belonging to one of her friends. Harry looked to the crowd in surprise, hand placing itself above his brow bone in a search for the input. His eyes lit up in recognition when he found Aurora.

“You had to have your friend yell out your name,” Harry joked, crinkles appearing by his eyes and Y/N couldn’t help but giggle with the crowd. “Well, thanks for that.”

He whipped behind him to look at the drummer, “Ready, Eli?” There was no vocal response, except that of a countdown. The rest of the band followed through, playing the first notes of a song that Y/N recognized as one of her personal favorites.

“Sorry to be putting this bombshell on you, Miss Y/N,” Harry ‘apologized’, adjusting the strap on his shoulder to play.  “But I couldn’t help wondering if a beautiful lady like yourself also has a pretty voice.” 

His gaze stayed on her for a few seconds. The intensity of his stare waking a bubbly feeling in her stomach. Her throat went dry while she watched Harry conjure up indescribable feelings within her and all she knew about him was that his name is Harry and that he was a musician.

His focus went back on the stage where the people mutually reciprocated his attention. The sound that lingered through the air was deep and raw, and as always– Y/N noticed– he sang with the utmost emotion through every push of a syllable escaping his lips.

Harry was a performer, for sure. Y/N watched as he interacted with the people below him with little effort. They were attentive to his every move. He was magnetic and even Y/N couldn’t deny the attraction she was feeling for him. He gave a little nod to her after pulling away from the chorus, directing her a soft smile that made her heart flutter and a warmth in her chest to expand and impelled her to be more comfortable, despite the company.

“Just picture everybody naked,” He whispered inconspicuously where only she could hear him.  The plump curvature of his mouth brushing delicately on the lobe of her ear. 

He’s a cheeky one, Y/N concluded, especially after witnessing him drop a lid to a wink. It didn’t help Y/N’s attraction to him when he plucked his guitar pick between his teeth, showcasing a smug smirk when his dropped head caught sight of her thighs squeezing together in an effort for relief.

—–

new series :)))))

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#harry #harry styles #harrystyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles writings #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fan fictions #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x ofc #break up playlist #hes-writer #hes-writer2 #writing #my writ #one direction

[newsandmediarepublic]

Here’s a happy, joyous story; beatnik life at its very best! 

One early autumn morning in September 1965 the postman delivered a letter to me at 60, Warren Road. Then, and for at least ten years afterwards ‘60’, as it was familiarly known, was the most notorious ‘beat’ pad I town.

Opening the letter I was surprised to learn that I’d been delegated to attend the Poetry Conference ‘representing the south west of England’. I was even more astonished at this out-of-the blue invitation as I’d only had a few poems published at that time (mainly in the ‘Tribune’ [a trades union newspaper/magazine] and in local newspapers.)

As one of these ‘local’ newspapers was the fortnightly Cardiff University newspaper ‘Broadsheet’, I reasoned that the invitation to the Conference must have some connection with that publication. And so, 22 years old, unemployed and homeless (I’d been sleeping on the floor at ‘60’) I used the last of my money (dubiously gained by selling ‘Afghan Black’ to summer beatniks in Torquay) and took a train to Cardiff.

On the face of it this invitation could very well have turned out to be the bore of the year, but in fact the week I spent in Cardiff at the Conference was one of the funniest, most bizarre, yet most rewarding experiences of my beatnik days.

Beat poetry at that time was fashionable, particularly if there was a musical element to accompany it. This accompaniment was often jazz based, but not necessarily so as folk musicians were also attracted to the poetry, for what is a poem if it is not a song?

Even so, the Conference was essentially respectable – or at least that was its intent – but within a short space of time two factions has formed: the squares and the beats.

Anyone who has had to endure squaredom will understand that the values it represents (especially in the mid-60s) are anaethema to, among other things, independent thought; after all what is ‘Torquay’s Other History’ than an expression of anti-squaredom. That the organisers of the Conference seemed unaware of this poetic/social dichotomy only added fuel to the flames of the events which were to follow.

There were two main venues for the organized events, which not only included readings but also plays (Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood was a notable production), political ‘events’ and Cardiff Art College inspired ‘happenings’. The venues were well-appointed theatres to which the public were invited to attend.

There must have been considerable funds available (perhaps because the event was under the rather vague aegis of the ‘Commonwealth’), and the major poets (that is, the well-known ones) from all over the said Commonwealth were put up at the Park Hotel (now called ‘The Thistle’). Proletarian poets (that is, those that weren’t so well known or not known at all) were put up on camp beds in a nondescript church hall. My camp bed was comfortable enough.

The events, that is the notorious ones, have been described elsewhere (they can be found easily enough on Google), but some have not, particularly those which involved a more – shall we say – underground element.

The Cardiff Poetry Conference came hard on the heels of the equally notorious Albert Hall poetry bash which took place earlier that summer. The Albert Hall poetry fest was, in the main, taken over by the more radical beats and any semblance of organization had collapsed into a melee where competing poets pushed, shoved, and shouted in attempts to make themselves heard or, more likely, seen.

While the square organisers of the Cardiff were aware of the Albert Hall fiasco, they nevertheless made no attempt to ostracise the beats, as may be seen from the formal invitation I received from the M.D. of the Western Mail:

At this reception, beats, squares and 1965 style celebrities mingled happily. I enjoyed myself enormously: there was plenty to eat and drink and the pungent aroma of marijuana drifted around the room. Without knowing it, the squares were getting high!

During the evening I met among others, perhaps the greatest British beat novelist, Alexander Trocchi, whose novel Cain’s Book had gained an impressive number of admirers. But by far the most notorious character I met at the reception was a man who would, ten years later, be hanged for murder.

I meet Michael X

But surely, you will say, the last hangings in Britain occurred in 1964. Quite correct, but Michael X was hanged in Trinidad and Tobago which was a British colony.

I’ve never been sure why Michael X (Michael de Freitas) was at the Conference, perhaps it was because at that time he was making a name for himself as a Black Power leader.

‘Black Power’ at that time was a relatively new concept in Britain and was causing consternation among the establishment. The poets, though, were only too pleased to welcome him as a celebrity rather than as a poet.

If I recall correctly (and time is the enemy of memory) Michael X dominated the room and we were introduced to him as if to some passing member of royalty. I can’t recall if I said anything to him other than ‘hello, nice to meet you’ or words to that effect but, if nothing else, I can say that once I met a man who would later be hanged.

That night, though, there was considerable trouble at t’mill. Alexander Trocchi, with a delightful young lady accompanying him, had been given expensive quarters at the Park Hotel.

Trocchi, as was well known, was a long-time junkie and had brought with him quite a large amount of good quality ‘pharmaceutical’ heroin. You must remember that at that time, indeed, up to 1971, the prescription of heroin on the NHS was legal and, in consequence, it was not adulterated with unknown substances and was remarkable pure. I can vouch for this.

Heroin was often over-prescribed and so there was for many years a quantity that was surplus to requirements (as it were) and this surplus found its way onto the street.

After the reception, Trocchi and his companion had made their way to one of the venues (I forget which) where he was to read. I made my way there (I think it was one of the University theatres) and went back stage. Even the most minor and obscure poets, like me, who had been delegated to the Conference had an opportunity to read and this was my time.

Poetry and Jazz at the Palk Arms, St. Marychurch. Mike Williams and the Johnny Aris Trio.

Poetry and Jazz at the Palk Arms, St. Marychurch [2]. Mike Williams and the Johnny Aris Trio.

Poetry and Jazz at the Palk Arms, St. Marychurch [3]. Mike Williams and Max Eastley.

To my astonishment and delight I saw in the dressing room one of the greatest and most accomplished guitarists of the day: Davy Graham. If you are unaware of the importance of Davy Graham in contemporary culture, please look him up on Google or YouTube.

A poetry reading with Davy Graham

No doubt Davy Graham was to perform that evening but (I don’t know how it came about) when it was my turn to go on stage and read Davy Graham came on stage too.

Probably I had shown him the three poems I was to read and it seems possible that he liked them or certainly one of them, for my greatest memory of the whole occasion was reading with him.

I can only recall him accompanying me on one of my poems, and this is it: Davy, improvising, began with a repetitive train riff (medium tempo)

One Way Ticket

Quick! Here’s the train! Have you got everything? Your case? Your books? Have you forgotten anything? Your ticket? Your pass? [The train, silent, stops. Doors bang, windows scrape, Mouths touch. Hands part, green flag waves, Whistle blows, the train moves.] …….probably Davy took a solo here…. Have you got everything? Have you forgotten anything? Your toothbrush? Your comb? [The engine leaves the platform, The coaches leave the platform. Mouths part, hands raise, Heads and shoulders lean from windows, The train moves away.] Have you got everything? Have you forgotten anything? The milk? The rent? Me?

As far as I remember the audience (square and beat) liked this. It was one of the great moments in my beatnik life. As for Davy Graham, that night he seduced Alexander Trocchi’s girl, went back with her to the Park Hotel, and later stole all his heroin and disappeared into the night.

From the Commonwealth Arts Festival to the Devonshire Hotel, Torquay.

After a few days of memorable chaos, laughter, excitement and joy the Conference came to an end. This is how beatnik life should be always, I thought: poetry, jazz, theatre, confounding the squares, meeting characters like Trocchi, X, and Graham. But, alas! Such intensity cannot last and I caught a train back to Torquay, as penniless as when I’d set out, and found myself a job as a waiter at the Devonshire Hotel, not far from Meadfoot Cross.

So you see beatnik life at its best could be exciting, fun, creative, intelligent, chaotic, joyful. If only it could have lasted!

A Torquay Beat poet at the Commonwealth Arts Festival Poetry Conference (Cardiff, 1965) Here's a happy, joyous story; beatnik life at its very best!  One early autumn morning in September 1965 the postman delivered a letter to me at 60, Warren Road.

#Alexander Trocchi #Beatnik #Davy Graham #Michael X #poetry #Torbay #Torquay&039;s other history