#but at the same time cathartic crab time

[squeakadeeks]

i feel like this is condemning myself but i cant shake this nagging thought that if i returned to h*omestuck i could make a Karkat cosplay damn near identical to highschool me's wildest dreams

[polarfarina]

Daily 5 song shuffle

What the hey, I love sharing my music in blurbs, let's see what's coming from my playlist today!

The first song is Linger Longer by Cosmo Sheldrake - brother of the guy who grew mushrooms out of the book he wrote about mushrooms and then ate it (Merlin Sheldrake- also they co wrote a song about mushrooms together), this artist has a really cool feel. This song specifically feels dramatic and whimsical, I get it stuck in my head a lot.

Second song is II - Beautiful Losers by Kai Whiston and Joe Peterson. This song has two parts to it, one is kind of upbeat and sad at the same time, with a nice beat to it- but the second half is somber with piano and echoing voices. I have a love for sad songs, what can I say? They don't really make me sad, they just feel cathartic.

The third song is This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) by The Talking Heads. Not really a niche song or anything but I saw this song used in a fancam for crabs (just like, the whole animal, crabs) and it really spoke to me. The beginning especially feels timeless to me, like it's impossible to date just from that little guitar bit it starts off with, which is a really big plus to me.... timeless all the way babey!!

The fourth songs is Chiltonwalk.temp by Graham Kartna. Graham is one of my favorite artists this year, and I'm sure he'll be up in the top 5 at least in my Spotify wrapped. He uses warped tones and nostalgic sound effects, samples, and high energy beats that all really really scratch my brain. He made music that was included in the soundtrack for the viral series of animations called ENA (by Joel G) - Graham and Oliver Buckland both had awesome songs in that series, and I actually have a playlist of my favorite songs of theirs combined into one 35 song experience.

Last song is 4ever by Willow, which is a song from her album "lately I feel EVERYTHING" she released last year. I feel like that album has more of an alt rock feeling than a lot of the music she made before. One of the songs on that album was a collab with Avril Lavigne! This song specifically has echoey vocals and a depressed tone that really fit into the part of my brain that likes sadder songs. It's really a wonderful song!

That's the 5 songs for today, I'm gonna finish doing the dishes.

[redladydeath]

god I hope the queen doesn’t die on or during the week of the 5th, tumblr is already going to be so insufferably loud about it and they really don’t need the extra reason to boost that

[liketheinferno2]

Not many screenshots but 2 stories and a comment -- 1. I picked up bard just to play music and have been having a great time. Someone tipped me 150000 gil for Nirvana on the fiddle in Gridania!

2. Elskan was helping a lone elezen heal for a boss FATE (HUGE CRAB) but upon realising this was gonna be a war of attrition I joined in and summoned the rest of the free company, experience of being rescued by helpful faeries since we are fae themed lol. And then they joined up afterward! Had an emo concert on the beach to celebrate.

Aside: Got the PVP hair :)

Now then... we need to talk about Dark Knight. Or I would make note of something.

DRK as a class is absolutely coloured by the impression you get from its opening quest, which is far from a bad thing, however; its opening quest is explicitly about the fact that Temple Knights left unchecked are killing and sexually abusing people in their care. And so for the rest of the class this is in your brain as the thing you are fighting back against, right...

And then 52 starts on the idea that those same people had your daughter in captivity and want her back. The implication is DIRE. And it's not subtle about it.

Dark Knights are all just Those Who Know. I've been transparent about having escaped abuse fairly recently so suffice it say this story is AFFECTING ME but it's in a really good way, it's cathartic and desperate. Hard to go wrong with the two sad dudes and their sad kid plot but this one's got teeth. Sid's great, Rielle's great, everyone's already told you this but if you've got the stomach for it PLAY DARK KNIGHT.

[octopodeez]

9) A missing moment from canon. For Kidd

At his core, the fearsome Edward Kenway was just a drunk fool with a heart too soft for his lifestyle. This was confirmed as Kidd watched his friend stumble in his direction…away from the party.

He perched on a thick tree branch, the same one Edward so often napped on, staring into the starry abyss. It was nights like these were he had the luxury of letting his mind wander. No crew to captain or plunder to chase. He could think about everything and nothing all at once. It was cathartic.

“Oi, Kidd, what’re you doing out here on your lonesome?”

Was. It was cathartic. Now it was gone and replaced by one idiot Captain Edward Kenway. He meant well, of course, so Kidd decided not to kick him in the shin, but it didn’t absolve Kenway from the dirty look he shot his way.

“If you haven’t learned by now to leave a man to his thoughts, it won’t be long ‘til you’ve got a hole in your head. From me, perhaps.”

Even if there was merit to the threat, Edward was never one to be impressed by words. He nudged James to the side and clambered next to him.

“Well, out with it, then. What’s so heavy on your mind that you’ve abandoned my party?” James didn’t reply. Edward nudged him in the ribs. James grunted and scooted away. Edward followed and did it again, harder.

“Kenway—“

“Jim,” he parroted.

Kidd sighed in frustration. Edward only ever pried in others’ affairs when he was drunk. And Jaysus, did he reek of rum.

But after the millionth rib nudge, Kidd realized he didn’t have much of an answer. Nothing particular was at the forefront of his mind. He was just enjoying a bit of peace—which surely wouldn’t satisfy Edward’s curiosity. Maybe this was a good opportunity to unload a bit of baggage, though. Kenway was in no state to remember anything tomorrow, and it’d be nice to get a few things off his chest…

“I was married once,” he blurted and instantly regretted it. The flood gates were opened now, though. May as well commit. “Not something or someone I miss, but that sort of thing sticks with you. Makes you wonder.”

Even pissed off his boots, Edward knew the conversation was now very delicate. He stared ahead, away from Kidd, out to the sea, trying to figure out what to say. He felt a new camaraderie with the boy—barely 19 and already lived double the years—and it was the sort of thing probably couldn’t be solidified with words. So Edward rested his hand on Kidd’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. And to his surprise, James tilted his head to rest upon his knuckles.

His cheek was soft upon Edward’s hand—something the men liked to tease him about. If only the British guard knew they was bein’ robbed by a man who can’t even grow a proper beard, they’d say, but Kidd never gave it much mind. In this moment, Kenway didn’t give it much mind either. It was nice to know there were still soft things in this world.

James wondered if now was the time to tell Edward that he didn’t exist. There was no James Kidd to fill the assumptions of infidelity and divorce surely going through Edward’s head. There was only Mary, who had been married off by her mother a lifetime ago just to mourn the death of her husband a few months later.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Edward’s thumb moved in small circles on her shoulder. It was such an intimate moment. Too much so to be between friends. No. Now wasn’t the time to reveal herself. Not if she wanted to keep Edward at a safe distance, anyway, and it was important she did, at least until she could bring him to Tulum. So instead, she turned her head just a bit more to press her lips to his knuckles.

“That’ll do, Kenway.” James said, slipping back into character. “And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to a crab.”

So anyways apparently Mary Read was married once and boy did I latch right onto that little nugget of information.

[terrence-silver]

I have some simple questions ab Terry. 1). what would his favorite food be? 2). What is his favorite movie? 3). what is his favorite book? 4). How early do you think he gets up?/what time would he go to bed? 5). Who was his favorite parent?

Terry Silver eats like a snake eats; he eats meat. In all actuality, he does. His dietary habits changed over the years the same way his personas changed, shifting, transforming and befitting each new role and each new fashion fad (a viper on a lettuce and tofu diet is a strange thing), but deep down, I think covets a good, classic rare stake paired with fine liquor when he isn't out to, if you will, wear a mask or win over a crowd with how admirable and green his choice of meals are. It is a means to an end, of course, especially when he's older. Who doesn't want to prolong themselves? He covets bizarre food too. The slightly daunting and unusual most people would be put off by. Squid ink? Blood soups? Rare types of Crabs? Undoubtedly a great many dishes that are Korean too. Wouldn't be surprised if Terry had a particular penchant for lamb, veal and rabbit meat, just due to what the flesh of a particularly tender (stereotypically pure) animal alludes to.

I think Terry would unapologetically have a penchant for old timey movies. The elegant. The classy. Old Hollywood stuff. (Maybe Japanese Retro Cinema, as a guilty pleasure?) I don't think most of modern cinema does too much for him, unless this is the 80's and a new slasher film just came out. I'm even prone to go as far and say he enjoys black and white movies in particular and always has. It would've been something, to an extent, still in fashion when he was young, so the habit remained and dragged on all throughout his life. Don't know why, but think someone lovesick and often violently obsessive and possessive as Terry would enjoy a good romance ranging anywhere from the 1930's timeline-wise to something like Bonnie and Clyde (1967) because he sees a certain ideal...in a pair of lovers shedding all inhibitions on a rampage and their eyes meeting in cathartic vigour before they're shot to death in a scene that goes on and on almost sadistically so. He doesn't know who he'd rather be; the people shooting or the couple dying. Maybe he just likes to watch.

Notwithstanding the likes of The Art of War and Machiavelli's Prince as his all go-to's alongside most major works of Philosophy you could think of, which he, yes, reads religiously in his downtime (We literally see him read Leviathan by Hobbs), I feel Terry would enjoy something gritty and gory like Blood Meridian (The Evening Redness in the West) by Cormac McCarthy. Why? A major theme is the warlike nature of man? Critics declaring they that their "first two attempts to read through Blood Meridian failed, because [they] flinched from the overwhelming carnage"? Book quotes like "You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the Devil was at his elbow. A creature that can do anything". Yep. Outside of that, on a slightly milder, less morbid and dark note? Don't laugh, but Wuthering Heights. I think that lovers haunting each other from beyond the grave has something that would just do it for him in a weird sense, you know? There's a zeal to that manner of devotion. Not that he'd ever mention he enjoys that one.

Terry seemingly has no clear-cut schedule of when he sleeps and his habits are often confusing when observed. He can stay up all evening, being an absolute night owl, doing goodness knows what and still be up at an unusually early time, training, like nothing happened. How he does it and how he ticks like perfect clockwork is unclear, but it is like he has always had excess energy and an almost Spartan discipline and drive intermingled with the decedent where he easily pulls all-nighters and still starts his morning routine at five o'clock sharp, easily before everyone else, doing push-ups and warm up Kata alone, right before either heading out to Dynatox's HQ, to the dojo, taking a business call, depending of the era he's in --- regardless, Terry is meticulous and orderly, regardless if he's orderly from a jacuzzi or an office. Undoubtedly a habit brought back from the military that was just drilled into him.

Could've been his mother, if only by a little bit? I feel Terry's father was undoubtedly strict and despotic, riddled with huge expectations one needed to live up to by any means necessary. But then again, so could've his mother, in a sense. I think he loved them both for all their darkness and faults and authoritarian nature regardless because they were his and Terry hasn't had anyone who was his by blood since. Nobody he was tied to that way. I think he loved them even more when they died and a great many of the possible obsessiveness, controlling (yet ironically out of control?) tendencies and maybe even cruelty they showed him was compartmentalized. Now, they joined a deceased Ponytail in their role. They became someone he absorbed into themselves through the habits and the teachings they left him with. What if his dad used to call him Terry-boy? What if he wore his father's rings? What if he had his mother's smile? I can see that much. Now, he was their only living picture.

[jessicafurseth]

Reading List, Like Water Feeling Its Way Over An Edge double edition.

Fucking in Cornwall, by Ella Frears

The rain is thick and there’s half a rainbow over the damp beach; just put your hand up my top. I’ve walked around that local museum a hundred times and I’ve decided that the tiny, stuffed dog labelled: the smallest dog in the world, is a fake. Kiss me in a pasty shop with all the ovens on. I’ve held a warm, new egg on a farm and thought about fucking. I’ve held a tiny green crab in the palm of my hand. I’ve pulled my sleeve over my fingers and picked a nettle and held it to a boy’s throat like a sword. Unlace my shoes in that alley and lift me gently onto the bins. The bright morning sun is coming and coming and the holiday children have their yellow buckets ready. Do you remember what it felt like to dig a hole all day with a tiny spade just to watch it fill with sea? I want it like that – like water feeling its way over an edge. Like two bright-red anemones in a rock-pool, tentacles waving ecstatically. Like the gorse has caught fire across the moors and you are the ghost of a fisherman, who always hated land.

[Image]

*

*** Some stories about how the lockdown is going [TL;DR not well]

This is the "Third Quarter" of the pandemic and what we are experiencing is normal - just ask antarctic researchers, space travel scientists and submarine officers [Tara Law, Time]

"You can’t govern the people you live with in a series of edicts. ...  But I have reached the point of 2021 when that’s all I want to do. There’s a suite of feelings and thoughts occurring in the house that I want a complete veto over because everyone is irritating the hell out of me." [Zoe Williams, The Guardian]

"It’s not a pleasure, but it’s the best we’ve got, all of us walking in place until we have somewhere to walk to." I'm sick of walking around [Monica Heisey, The Guardian}

"I’ll read a page of my book before migrating over to Instagram, losing myself in its emptiness for half an hour before I even realize what I’m doing. During work, I’ll write two sentences of a draft, then click new tab and type in Twitter.com. Others spend hours with their eyes glazed over as they flick through TikTok, disappear down YouTube rabbit holes, or sit down at their computers, only to blink and realize they’ve been playing Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla for five hours straight." What the pandemic is doing to our attention spans [Angela Lashbrook, Debugger at Medium] 

The case for bringing back the nervous breakdown, or, why it should be easier to admit that it's just a bit too much [Jerry Useem, The Atlantic]

"It’s not just the multitasking that makes us feel muddled. It’s also the stress. Chronically high levels of the hormone cortisol, which is associated with stress, can lead to memory impairments in healthy adults." Why the pandemic has made it feel like your brain is broken [Jessica Grose, The New York Times]

"Ten months into the pandemic, I know the rhythms of the courier networks better than I know my menstrual cycle. Royal Mail in the morning; DPD and Hermes in the afternoon. Amazon comes any time, including late at night. DPD couriers insist on taking a photo of you with the package, mortifyingly. I wonder where these photos go: me in a food-stained tracksuit, dirty-haired, holding an armful of packages I can’t remember ordering with an abashed smile. I pray they never see the light of day." [Sirin Kale, The Guardian] 

It's ok to complain about how much we have lost to this pandemic. [Sarah Manavis, The New Statesman]

*** Some stories that are still about the pandemic, but a bit more uplifting

"I think that we map memories onto places—even more, that our memories live inside places. I remember last year visiting the library in Saratoga that I used to go to in high school, which I hadn’t been to since then. It turned out that I only remembered half of it, and when I walked into the (previously) un-remembered half, all of these other memories flooded back with it. Or more generally, when I look across the bay at San Francisco, I feel like I’m looking at my 20s. That’s one of the reasons I’ve always scoffed at the idea of uploading one’s brain, because my memories are all scattered across the landscape, and I have to travel across it to re-encounter them." Jenny Odell [Ross Simonini, The Believer]

"During lockdown, I've found solace in online recipe comments" - this embodies the only type of corona coverage I'm interested in at this point [Sophie Haigeny, The Guardian] 

Maps of our personal covid worlds [Laura Bliss and Jessica Martin, Bloomberg CityLab] 

I miss restaurants so damn much and most of all, I miss taking them for granted. [Rachel Sugar, Grub Street]

Finding peace in an unexpected corner of the internet: Nun Twitter [Sirin Kale, The Guardian] 

They no longer make VHS tapes, and the nostalgia market is booming [Hannah Selinger, The New York Times]

"Why did I ever believe that a teenage girl could hold all the power?" Tavi Gevinson on Britney Spears, and on all of us [The Cut]

"Street View-hopping resonates with the oft-stated desire to see the world as it really is, or to get “off the beaten path,” which turns out to be mostly miles of road and trees and sky. At a time when we have been staring out windows at the same stretch of street, and taking the same drives to the same grocery stores, it can be cathartic to get dropped on another patch of road—somewhere else, but not so different after all." On browsing Google Street View during the pandemic [Sophie Haigeny, The New Yorker]

Even before the pandemic, American culture was embracing numbness as an antidote for the overload of digital capitalism. [Kyle Chayka, The New York Times]

[falling-pages]

Worth It: Mori x Reader 2/3

continuation of the ask I received a while back! It’s been crazy with evacuation, but I feel like I am getting back into the groove of writing. This is part 2/3, with part 1 linked here in case you missed it, and I am so excited for you all to see the plot twist at the end of this chapter! friendly reminder that this is an AU where Mori is not rich and he does not attend Ouran. That is important in this chapter. Enjoy this really, really long chapter! A little change I’ve made during drafts: the person who requested it has given me permission to name their character, so instead of (Y/N) that you’ve seen in the first part, the name oft he character is”Gina.”

Your Takashi didn’t take advantage of your giddiness or vulnerable position on your back. By looming over you on the ground, you knew he could have used his strong arms to pin you down and take what he wanted. You knew he wanted to. As you ran a hand through his hair and settled it on his neck, his pulse rattled cathartically against your fingers. 

You wanted him. Pushing down that greedy voice in your stomach took all of your strength, especially when he pressed lightly on your wrist in response. You wanted it, you wanted him. 

But you knew you couldn’t. You shouldn’t. This was your first kiss together, and your first kiss, period. You only met two months ago. You shouldn’t have these feelings so soon.

Takashi felt your concern and ended the kiss, briefly pressing his forehead to yours. His chest heaved; you found yourself shaking from excitement. 

Your hands trembled as you tried to hold his. With a look of great concern he gently propped you up, searching your eyes with his to ask if you were okay. “Was I too forceful?” he asked, a blush burning his cheeks. 

You shook your head vigorously. “No, of course not. It’s just...” You sigh. “Something I have to work through.”

He nodded, pushing himself away from you. From the shudder in his muscles you could see it took everything in him not to hold you. “Should we stop seeing each other, then?”

“No!” You reach up and cup his cheek, feeling your love for him welling up in your chest. “No, love, that’s not it. You’re perfect.” His eyes soften into yours, relief spilling out of his irises. “It’s my family. They think we’re better because we’re rich and famous, so they want me to marry someone rich and famous. Or at least rich. Someone with high social standing.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Takashi brushes it away, encouraging you to continue. “But I don’t want someone of social standing,” you whisper, your voice catching. “I want you! And it’s silly because we’ve only known each other a little while, but I feel like I know you better than I know myself. And there’s no one else I ever want to feel that way for.”

You crumple onto Takashi’s chest as he puts on his bravest face. Though swallowed up by his form, you feel anchored to the ground, your spirit aligned with his. It was rash to speak out like that. You were too young to think about forever.

You shook away from him, preparing your speech, only to be met with his kind smile filling up your soul. “Two months or two years, I don’t care,” he said. “I just want you in my life.”

Within your core you felt something tighten, hammering against your ribcage and lungs like a pendulum, strengthening your resolve. You sat up on your knees and gave him a quiet kiss, letting your feelings burst through your actions rather than words.

He grabbed your face tenderly, and everything inside you snapped. Screw your parents. Screw their expectations. Screw what they thought they knew, screw their haughty attitudes. This was your Takashi, and they weren’t going to take away the one good person you have ever met. 

Let them disown you. Let them rant and rave about policy and goodwill and honor. Takashi was the only person of honor you had met in a long time.

As long as you had him, let them scream about what a disgrace they are.  All you needed was him.

- - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --  -- - - - - - - - - -  -

And scream they did.

It had been four months since your declaration, and keeping a secret was easier than you thought. You never had to worry about your boyfriend spilling the beans; he rarely talked with you, much less anyone else. The real issue was keeping hidden from your family’s bodyguards and nosy Etsuko. 

Takashi always insisted on walking you home after every date, but you made him stop a block away so you two couldn’t be caught. It wasn’t that you were ashamed to be with him. It was just the opposite--you wished you could hug him in the city square, or bring him home to dinner with your family. You wished you could kiss him whenever and wherever you wanted instead of waiting until the safety of his apartment to do so. One day, just one day, you wanted to live without constantly looking over your shoulder.

As graduation loomed and the weather got warmer, you looked forward to your little walks under cherry blossoms with Takashi. No longer bound by thick coats and scarves, you could really see his physique, enjoy the shape and outline of his abs and biceps. You wished you could see them fully, but the risk...

You wished you could bring Takashi over, but you needed to tell your parents you were dating a commoner first.

It didn’t go over well.

Not two words had left your mouth when your father shoved a phone in your face.

“Gina, who is this?”

You choked down a gasp at the picture of you and Takashi holding hands. It was taken from behind, and as your fingers ran along the phone case, you realized it belonged to your sister. 

“Etsuko!” you roared, throwing down the phone.

The culprit, sitting across from you at the dinner table, only shrugged. “Why are you so upset?” she asked. “I’m just looking out for my baby sister.”

“Why don’t you do something actually productive with all this time you have?” you retorted.

Etsuko sneered as your father tapped the phone again. Another picture popped up, one of you and Takashi enjoying lunch on your first date. You looked at yourself. Munching on the crab, mid-laugh. You hadn’t seen yourself look so happy in a while. 

“I’ll ask again,” your father said. His normally-tenor voice dropped deep into his chest, and the tone scraped against you like a knife. “Who is this?”

“My friend,” you whispered. You didn’t want to renounce him, but you knew what they would do to him. You had seen it happen before. 

As if he had expected this answer, your father swiped to the next photo. Your heart fell to your toes. 

It was a picture of you and Takashi kissing goodbye a block away from the house. At the sight of his fingers in your hair, your stomach curdled. His heat, his smell washed over you again. You thought you were protecting him by leaving him so far away. You had no idea how nosy your sister could be.

“Is that what friends do?” asked your father softly, locking the phone and handing it back to Etsuko. 

You sat back in your seat, feeling like a boulder has lodged itself in your sternum. Icy tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“Please don’t hurt him,” you plead. You cast your gaze from your father, standing stoically in front of you, to your mother, shaking her head with a frown. Avoiding Etsuko, you rest your eyes on your other sister, Kichi, silent until now. She raises her dark eyes to yours before bowing her head again. A thousand memories floated across her face, but she doesn’t say a word.

“Kichi, please,” you cry, desperately reaching your hand to your favorite sister. “You loved a commoner once, tell them it’s different, help--”

“Go upstairs, Gina,” you mother interrupts. With her auburn hair and light brown eyes, she and your father were only similar in attitudes: ambitious, prideful, and spoke with snakes for tongues. Never mind how they could make such beautiful music together. All other parts of their humanity were destroyed by greed the moment they tasted fame. “Go get changed. We’re having a special dinner tonight.”

You shook off the maids’ hands and climbed the stairs, throwing one more repulsed look at Etsuko.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Despite the servants refreshing your makeup, the puffy eyes and red tear trails remained. You knew they were trying to be helpful; one had even brought a cool compression pack, but you didn’t want it. You wanted your family to see your pain, wanted them to see your tears. Maybe, if you made a big deal about it, they wouldn’t do anything to Takashi. You knew they could hurt him, uproot his entire life. They had done the same thing three years ago to Kichi’s secret boyfriend. But you couldn’t live with yourself if they actually did anything to him.

Tugging at your dress in the mirror, you felt confusion gnaw at your brain. It was a pretty outfit, but you thought it was inappropriate for family dinner. Shiny green material clung to your thighs, and though it was long-sleeved, a big diamond-shaped cutout clipped across your chest. Nothing too scandalous peeked out, but the cutout drew attention to it, inviting one to stare and imagine. It didn’t help that a ruby pendant landed in the middle of the area, cold against your exposed skin.

With your hair piled up on your head and silver heels strapped onto your bare legs, you couldn’t tell the difference between yourself and, frankly, a hooker.

Realization rattled down your spine. Your family was trying to sell you off.

A hazy memory suddenly cleared. You were only about seven when Etsuko graduated high school, and you remember watching from your playroom as limos surrounded your house, handsome boys her age in tuxedos popping out and entering your house. You remember how uncomfortable she looked in a strapless silver dress, slipping from boy to boy without spending more than a minute with each one. At the end of the night, your father announced her engagement to the son of some hospital management company, and she took that moment to publicly announce that she liked girls rather than guys.

But that was a party, with lots of preparation and glamor. This was only a dinner. A rock lodged in your windpipe when it dawned on you--they had chosen a groom for you already.

Looking yourself up and down once more, you tried to think of a way to get out of this dinner. The windows in your bedroom led to a straight 30-foot drop to the ground, and you didn’t feel like breaking a leg tonight. Even it you forced yourself to vomit something up, your parents would know it was a trick.

Just muddle through tonight, Gina, you thought to yourself. You’ll find a way to fix all of this. There was only one person you wanted seeing you dressed like this, but your parents had taken your phone so that you couldn’t even take a picture to show him later. 

One of the maids knocked on your door, something about your family is ready for you, and you fix one last strand of hair.

They weren’t ready. Your family nearly died of embarrassment after Etsuko came out in front of all those important families, so they plan to just quietly let Kichi pick from a pool of suitors after she graduates business school. If they thought you would go just as quietly, they were wrong. There’s no way you would let go of Takashi without a fight.

Kichi met you at the bottom of the stairs, dressed very nicely but not nearly as provocatively as you. She walks you to the dining room, beyond words until you reach your chair. All she can do is press an apologetic hand against your palm before she takes her seat.

In the half hour you were gone, the servants completely rearranged the room. Double china sat in front of five extra seats, and you shivered at the new chair next to you, envisioning your future husband sitting there. Light glinted off the crystal wine glasses. 

Musicians crowded into the back corner, a whole string ensemble playing what must be good music, but all you can hear is the blood rushing to your ears. Beside them stands a tabloid reporter, friendly with your family, camera and notebook at the ready. A man filed in followed by another woman, and he looked familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had last seen him.

You were beyond impressed. Without Takashi by your side, everything dulled, no matter how expensive or important they seemed to be. Even the swan ice sculpture paled in comparison to Takashi’s eyes. 

As your family members walked in, you grabbed your father by the arm and pulled him to you. You dug your freshly-manicured nails into his suit, hoping to damage it or give him some semblance of your pain.

“Whoever you’ve chosen for me,” you hiss, pointing to the empty chair by yours, “I don’t want him. I won’t have him.”

Your father looked down at you, eyes calculating. “Oh, Gina, you’ve always been so smart.” His tone is light, not with happy pride, but arrogance, tinged with a hiccup of sadness. As he turned you to your chair, forcing you in, he turns much darker than you have ever seen before. “You should be smarter than falling in love with a commoner.”

“You had so many young men at Ouran,” your mother chimed in, gracefully sinking into her place. “Couldn’t you have chosen one of them?”

“They are all mean-spirited and entitled.”

“What about those host club boys?” she suggests.

“Yes, they are all of good breeding and good standing,” your father chimed in. “Even that Suoh boy, despite his maternal heritage.”

You grip your fork, remembering all the boys pimp themselves around like prize racehorses. “Those host boys are worse,” you spit out. “They’re attention whores. They prostitute themselves to desperate girls for status and manipulative satisfaction. None of what they do is real, even as they lead naive girls to believe it is, and I’ll be damned before I become a wife to any of them.”

“Oh. That’s not very polite.”

A cold chill rushes over your body as the familiar rawness of that voice thuds against your stomach. You know his voice. You’ve heard it chuckle cruelly in the hallway. It has been harsh and firm delivering answers in class. it’s the voice you feared the most would appear beside you at the dinner table.

You turn around as the Shadow King himself, Kyoya Ootori, enters the room.

Well. That was really long. Expect part 3 coming up soon! In case you missed it, this is a part 2, with part 1 linked here. Leave be a comment! I’d love to engage with you :)

[arcanesupern0va]

Down With The Rickness; Ch4: Every You, Every Me

Summary: Nova is stressed so Rick tries to make things a little more interesting by taking her to Aeon, a casino outside of time and space.

A/N: Thar be smuts here. And no Halloween chapter because... well this happened instead. I have to thank my beta, my-sun-my-baelish, for all of the help she's given me. It was her idea to bring Flesh Curtains Rick into the story and he will definitely be back. I cannot wait. :D Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think. :D

CW: Smut, drinking, gambling  Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 8508

My ao3

Masterlist

~Rick In The Water~

|Ch3: Scene Of the Crime|

Things fell back into a comfortable pace when we finally made it home with Rick even sleeping in my room more often than not. The coffee I shared with Beth every morning before she left for work was already awkward enough without Rick stumbling loudly out of my room, much to her chagrin. She insisted she didn’t mind, that she was happy for us, but I could still see the twinges of jealousy in her eyes as she watched her father stumble out of my room in my robe in search of his own cup of coffee. 

In an attempt to reconcile with her, I spent most of my days scrolling through job listings. On one particular afternoon, I had taken up my search across from Rick when he was at his workbench. I let out a guttural groan after scrolling through the same thirty listings I’d seen for the past two weeks, earning me a raised eyebrow from the irritable scientist sitting on the other side of the workbench.

“Y-You mind keeping your existential despair down over there?” Rick asked, looking up from whatever he was working on with an unconvincing scowl on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was my overwhelming stress bothering you?” I asked, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes as I tried to mask the grin forming on my face.

“W-Well, yeah. Yo*uuurp*u mind taking it elsewhere if you’re going to be a nuisance?” he growled, returning to his gadget with a dramatic huff.

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry,” I smirked, rolling my eyes as I gathered my laptop to stalk off.

“I was gonna go out in a little bit, i-i-if you wanted to come with me,” he offered, spinning around in his chair and looking genuinely surprised I had taken his complaints seriously.

“Wouldn’t want my- what did you call it? Oh- extentistial despair to distract you in anyway,” I sighed, resisting the urge to grin at him again.

“W-Well, I was hoping it would get your mind off of it.”

“Aren’t you just so thoughtful?”

“I-It’s been said... from time to time-” 

“Never. I think you mean never.”

“I-I’m sure someone’s had the wrong idea before.”

I sighed, turning away from Rick and walking to the edge of the garage in contemplation. I could choose to stay here and commiserate over why failure seemed inevitable on the job front or I could go out with Rick and just lose myself in an adventure with him. As I weighed between responsibility and fun, my eyes fell onto my old house next door. It filled my heart with a petty glee to see the house falling into minor disrepair as weeds invaded the formly meticulously kept garden and small groups of crab grasses sprouted up across the lawn. Once the police had finally given me access again, Rick, Beth, and I started destroying the cameras that had kept me locked in the house. It was cathartic to say the least but I still hadn’t stepped foot back in since. There were too many memories haunting those walls and I’d sooner tear the place down than go back into it.

“Alright, let’s go,” I sighed, tearing my eyes away before the nightmares could find their way back in. I sat my laptop down for a moment, a low moan leaking out as my legs stretched as a chill ran down my spine at the sheer relief in it. With a yawn, I headed for the door to go change out of my pajamas and into something more suited for adventure.

“D-D-Don’t worry about getting dressed,” Rick stopped me, making one last adjustment to his device before pulling himself out of his chair with a groan and directing me to his ship.

“Rick, seriously?” I asked, gesturing down to my cartoon covered sweatpants, tattered tank top and flip flops. “I’ll be like, two seconds. You telling me you can’t wait?”

“N-No,” he growled, “You don’t have anything to wear that would fit in where we’re going. We’re going to have to stop along the way.”

“Oh,” I gasped softly, following him to the ship. “So, where are you taking me then?”

“Look, will you just take ‘it’s a surprise’ as a sufficient answer so I can have a bit of fun with this?” Rick scowled as I climbed into the ship, eyeing him hesitantly.

“I mean, I suppose I really don’t have much choice otherwise, do I?” I asked him, eyes narrowed at him as a smirk played on my cheeks.

“That’s what I love about you, you always catch on quickly.”

Our first stop was at an off-world intergalactic mall. Rick sent me into a large dress shop, shoving a large wad space cash into my hands and instructing me to “go nuts”. He departed with a kiss on the cheek as he headed into a Blips and Chitz further into the mall, muttering something about unfinished business.

The humanoid eel creature at the counter turned her nose up to me at first, eyeing my shabby attire until she caught sight of the fistful of cash I was carrying. Her demeanor shifted in an instant, ushering me past the clearance rack I had been eyeing to instead show me the latest gowns they’d just received. She ensured me I would be on the cutting edge of whatever charity gala or ball I would be donning the gown to as I flipped nervously past gowns with price tags I couldn’t read.

“I-I don’t know how much this is-” I held out the wad of cash in my hand to her nervously “-I was just kind of sent here and told to ‘go nuts’’.”

She eyed me suspiciously but remained silent as she quickly counted the money, handing it back with a satisfied smile. She started pulling gowns down, holding them in front of me to get an idea of what would look best before leading me to the lavish dressing rooms in the back of the store. Sizing proved to be no issue as the fabric adjusted itself around me, being snug in all the right places and scooping around my breasts in a scandalous way. After a montage worthy amount of changing, we decided on a long, black sleeveless number. It boasted a light train following behind me and a neckline I knew Rick wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of. She grabbed a pair of heels and a set of jewels for me to wear before pushing a large device over my head, letting it rest on my shoulders. Panic set in as my hair began pulling away from my scalp gently before it was doused and dried my hair quickly and a light spray methodically worked its way over my face. A soft chime rang out and the clerk lifted device with ease, handing me a mirror to take in my appearance. I barely recognized the face staring back at me. My hair fell gently over my shoulders in delicate waves and my makeup was done with skill I’d never possess. The sales clerk led me over to a full length mirror and I was taken aback by my reflection.

I looked so… elegant.

The clerk pointed to the rest of my outfit, sliding my heels and jewelry over to me. The heels were matte black with five inch heels and I stood up nervously in them, I was relieved to discover they were fitted with a balance technology that made walking as easy as if I was barefoot. The jewels hanging from my neck and ears sparkled with purple and blue hues, adding the perfect pop of color to offset the dark gown with the added benefit of accenting my eyes.

“T-Thank you,” I stammered, staring into the mirror to take in the finished product. I handed her back the wad of cash, waving my hand away as she offered me my change as I continued to thank her profusely. I wandered out of the shop in a haze, barely noticing when Rick approached me looking over his shoulder nervously until his eyes fell on me.

“H-Holy shit, Nova,” he gaped, looking me over completely. “You look fucking amazing.”

“I know, right?” I grinned proudly, looking down in amazement at my own cleavage.

“Are you ready then?” he asked with a grin, his eyes struggling to meet mine.

“I guess we’re not going on the usual kind of adventure then?” I trembled, my confidence gone at the reminder of the uncertainty ahead of us.

“You could say that.”

We landed in a large valet, the dinginess of Rick’s ship incredibly apparent next to all of the flashy ships parked around us. A Morty came out to greet us, taking the keys out of Rick’s hand before climbing into the ship and flying off to a garage. My eyes bulged at the sight, turning quickly to Rick with my eyes narrowed.

“Are we back on the fucking Citadel?” I hissed, looking around for the sea of Ricks and Mortys going about their daily lives.

“N-N-No,” Rick assured me quickly. “W-Well, kinda. N-N-Not really. This is a getaway for Ricks. It was built as somewhere to put all the Rickless Mortys and also give Ricks a place to relax when shit gets too serious.”

“So, there’s still going to be a shit ton of Ricks here,” I groaned, walking toward the entrance. The large doors slid open smoothly, allowing me to storm right into a large casino filled with Ricks and Mortys just as I had feared, but also a large variety of other otherworldly creatures. I stopped in my tracks as I looked over the sea of people gambling obscene amounts only to shrug off their losses and slide another tower back out into the circle.

“Welcome to Aeon,” another Morty greeted us. “Do you have a reservation in our hotel for the evening?”

“Y-Yeah,” Rick confirmed, pushing past me gently to handle the Morty in front of us leaving me to continue staring out over the casino floor. A large cluster of Ricks surrounded a craps table, cheering loudly after the shooter let the dice fly out of his hand. Another Rick was ordering a drink from the Morty cocktail server before turning back to a poker table. He looked at his hand, a look of irritation growing on his face as slammed the cards down, tossing a couple chips on top. I didn’t get to see if he’d won as Rick grabbed my hand gently as the Greeter Morty led us to the elevator to show us to the room Rick had reserved for the night.

The room was extravagant, with a full bar directly in front of us as we entered. A Bartender Morty portalled in and Rick ordered himself a drink immediately, allowing me to venture further into the luxurious room. A large four poster bed with delicate fabric draped down sat in the middle of the next room with a large television and sofa at the foot of it. The bed’s linens were quite possibly the softest thing I’d ever touched and I found myself running my hand over the fabric again and again. Rick entered the room behind me, quietly watching as I was mesmerized by a blanket.

“It’s alright, I guess,” he shrugged, setting his empty glass down and pointing to another door in the corner of the room, “You should check out the bathroom. True whirlpool jets, Nova. I’ve gotten lost in those damn things more times than I can count.”

“You’ve been here a lot, I take it?” I asked, breaking my attention from the linens to follow Rick’s suggestion.

“Yeah, this place isn’t called the Aeon for nothing,” Rick explained, “Time literally doesn’t exist here. You could spend ages here and no time passes. It’s outside of the ebb and flow of time.”

“So- Wait, what?” I asked, mouth agape as I turned to face him.

“Don’t think too hard about it, okay?” Rick smirked, “Let’s just put it this way, you could stay fifty years in this place and Madi wouldn’t think you’d been gone longer than an afternoon.”

“B-But, wouldn’t I be ancient by the time I got back?”

“Nope, I’m telling you, no time passes. You won’t age, you won’t gain any weight from any of the food you technically don’t need to eat… The only consequences you face here are with your wallet.”

“That’s… that’s crazy. So you could live here, forever?”

“I-I mean, if you had an infinite amount of money, sure. The fifty years thing was just an exaggeration, this place is not cheap.”

“I can tell,” I grinned, gesturing around to the expensive decor around the room.

“The Flesh Curtains have a show tonight,” Rick remarked, picking up the daily itinerary from the dresser.

“F-Flesh Curtains?” I sighed, biting my lip to resist a laugh.

“So, back in the day, my friends Birdperson and Squanchy formed a band called Flesh Curtains with me. Most Ricks do it but don’t stick with it. These guys are from a timeline that stuck with it and became a success.”

“I hardly consider playing in a casino success,” I said with a snort, glancing over at Rick in disbelief to find him staring at the pamphlet with a glassy look in his eyes.

“Psh,” he said finally, shaking the look away and clearing his throat. “It wouldn’t be so bad, I guess.”

“You wanna go back downstairs? Maybe we’ll go see the show tonight?” I offered softly, moving closer and lacing my hand into his. A devilish grin spread over his face as he pulled the door open.

“You know how to play blackjack, right?”

When we made it back to the floor, Rick made a beeline to the first empty blackjack table he could find. The Ricks around us watched us pass, not taking their eyes off of me until Rick shot them a dangerous look. The Morty at the table greeted us, scooping the cards back up and deftly shuffling them again before loading them back into the shoe and waiting for our buy-ins.

“Player’s cards?” he asked, bored. Rick tossed me a handful of colorful bills before pushing his over to the dealer along with a black card. Morty quickly cut out his chips, calling out the total and waiting for his supervisors approval before sliding two stacks of black and green chips across the table to Rick. He turned to me expectantly, raising an eyebrow when I hesitated.

“How much do I give him?” I whispered to Rick, unable to read the symbols on the money.

“Just give him all of it. Trust me, it’s enough.”

I pushed the money across with a trembling hand, earning a sigh from Morty as he counted it up and slid me my own stack of black and green chips.

“Place your bets.”

“Alright, so all you have to do is play one at a time,” Rick said, pushing the chips closer to me. “You’ll be playing the minimum so if you start doing well, feel free to up your bet.”

“I see we have a special guest tonight,” the floor supervisor Rick remarked as Morty started dealing the cards out. “Not often we see a Nova in-”

“-In here. Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” I waved him off, not meeting his gaze. I tried to remember the basic strategy rules for blackjack as Morty checked his own hand for blackjack.

“I-I bet,” Floor Rick stuttered, looking between my Rick and I. Rick ignored him, tapping the table to get another card. Nineteen. He waved it off with a satisfied sigh, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his lab coat. The Floor Rick grabbed an ashtray, sliding in front of Rick before turning his attention back to me.

“Eleven,” Morty said, moving his hand from Rick’s hand to mine.

“Double it,” Floor Rick said with a shrug, “It’s a good hand for doubling. All you need is a ten.” I sighed, sliding another chip up next to my initial bet, wincing as Morty slapped the card down on top of it and quickly went to his own hand. Twenty One.

“Twelve. Sixteen. Bust,” he called out flatly as he played his own hand out, quickly paying us our chips and scooping the cards up before chucking them into the discard rack.

“Nice one, Nova. You two let me know if you need anything,” Floor Rick said with a sly grin, pushing himself away from the table and going to check on another table.

“I seriously hope every fucking Rick in this place isn’t going to be on you like that all night,” Rick groaned as Morty dealt out another hand.

“Well, even if they are, I can handle it,” I assured him.

“I-I-It’s just fucking annoying,” Rick grumbled, watching Morty bust his hand again. 

We play for another hour before the Supervisor Rick made his way back over to us, making more uncharacteristically friendly conversation with me before being relieved to go on break. The Relief Floor Rick was also enamoured by my presence but kept it to himself, watching me silently from the adjacent table’s computer system.

“Twenty one,” Morty declared, scooping our bets up and placing them in the rack. Rick groaned in frustration, counting his chips angrily.

“That’s five fucking hands in a row, Nova. This is mathmatically fucking impossible,” he lamented, eyeing the stacks of green in front of me suspiciously. “How in the hell have you been doing so well?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” I shrugged, sliding a stack of five into the circle and looking at his expectantly.

“There’s no such thing as fucking luck,” Rick grumbled under his breath, slamming a chunk of black chips into the circle and looking up at Morty.

“W-Wait, before you deal-” I interrupted, holding my hand up to him and smiling softly. A cocktail Morty had come by, calling Rick’s attention away in search of something strong enough to drown his sorrows in. “Do you guys get tips? Like, as a paycheck or something.”

“Y-Yea. Usually doesn’t amount to much though,” he remarked spitefully, his eyes resting on Rick’s back as he spoke.

“So if I put money up for you, you get it if we win?” I grinned devilishly. He nodded quickly, his eyes lighting up as I slid a chip in front of my bet with a wink. “Let’s make you some money kiddo.”

Morty started dealing the hand out as Rick turned back around, handing me a small glass as he watched the hand come out. Another fifteen for Rick and two sevens for me, with Morty showing a six.

“Split them, Nova,” Rick suggested, waving his hand off before pulling out another cigarette.

“Since when do you smoke?” I asked, wrinkling my nose as I slid more chips out and signaled for the split.

“It’s a casino thing. Something about this place just makes me want a cigarette,” he shrugged. “You’re betting for Morty? Y-Y-Your streaks coming to an end now.”

“Eleven, Au- er -Nova,” Morty stammered, focusing his attention on the cards. I slid another six chips out, doubling the hand for a solid nineteen. The other hand turned into seventeen, leaving me to wave it off and hope for the best.

“Looks like I’m doing just fine,” I smirked, looking over to Rick. He didn’t respond, gesturing to Morty’s hand across the table.

“Twenty,” he called out mournfully, scooping up the bets and thanking me.

“Here, just take it,” I said stubbornly, not taking my eyes off of Rick as I tossed him a couple chips for him to drop in his toke box.

“T-T-Thank you, Aunt Nova,” he said, his cheeks flushing at my name again. 

“Tonight in our Event Center, come see Flesh Curtains, only at Aeon!” a voice called over the intercom. Rick checked his watch, sighing inwardly as his slid his remaining chips across to Morty.

“Color me up,” he ordered, sliding our money to Morty before turning to me, “You ready to go see the greatest band in existence?”

“Greatest band, huh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he grabbed his money and finished his drink. He didn’t respond, taking my hand and pulling me through the sea of aliens and Ricks headed to the Event Center. The Mortys scanning tickets looked frustrated as devices were thrust into their faces by desperate fans. Rick pushed our way to a lone Rick standing guard, flashing his black card again and speaking in low tones. Whatever he said must have had an effect as the Rick dropped the rope, allowing Rick and I through to the back door and into the cavernous theater.

Seats were squashed together as aliens milled into the theater, finding their seats. Rick moved around them deftly, pulling me behind him to a small door by the stage where we were met with a bored looking Morty who let us pass after Rick flashed his card at him again.

“So is that just a ‘get whatever the fuck you want’ card?” I asked as the door to backstage closed behind me with a soft click.

“I guess you could call it that. I used to be in here all the time. I’m an Ultra member here.”

“Where in the hell is all this money coming from?” I demanded, quietly jealous of Rick’s seemingly endless supply of income.

“W-Well, you see- I’ve made some things that- W-Well- You remember Scar, right?” he stammered, running his hand through his hair.

“Yes…” I drew out, ignoring the ache that echoed through my chest at the memory of the Rick that saved my life.

“Well, I d-did that- I DO that a lot,” he said, shifting awkwardly before returning his hand to his hair.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so while I may not have a lot of Earth’s currency, I do pretty damn well otherwise,” he explained hesitantly as we approached a large door with a star bedazzled to it. Rick knocked that same knock he used on Scar’s door, tapping his foot impatiently before the door swung open to reveal another Rick that made my jaw drop.

“Rick N-682, as I fucking live and breathe,” he smirked, shaking Rick’s hand before his gaze rested on me. This Rick was a sight to behold. His loose blue tank top dipped lazily down to his jeans, giving me a tantalizing view of his navel. I pulled my eyes away from his skull belt buckle long enough to notice how much younger than my Rick, confirming his claims about time’s effect, or lack thereof, here. He nodded in acknowledgement at me before leading us into his dressing room, a small grin playing on his cheek. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, drinking in his every movement as he talked caught up with Rick.

“I see you haven’t changed,” Rick remarked, his eyes tracing to a closed door before meeting the other Rick’s gaze. “This is my Nova, by the way. Nova, this is Rick F-287.”

“Just call me Ricky, it’s a lot easier,” the much more laid back version of my Rick assured me.

“Oh! Another Nova!” a voice called out from another room. My reverie was broken when another… me appeared out of a makeshift bedroom wearing an excited look and more fishnets and dark makeup than I’ve ever owned. I felt out of place in comparison to her relaxed wear but I had to admit, I looked fucking hot. 

“Baby, why don’t you don’t you introduce her to the others,” her Rick suggested, gesturing behind her.

“Oh! Sure, come with me,” Punk Nova grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her. I spared one last fleeting glance back at my Rick before she closed the door behind us..

The ‘Others’ it turned out was more… Novas. This Rick had a veritable harem of Novas just hanging out in his dressing room. My vision spun at the sight of them, my knees going weak before Punk Nova grabbed me by my shoulder and led me over to the couch.

“You okay?” a Nova with bright pink hair asked urgently, coming to rest at my side. She was a stark contrast to the punk Nova who led me in here, wearing a tight lilac t-shirt with the Flesh Curtains plastered on the front with a short blue skirt and neon makeup. My tunnel vision was becoming worse as I stared into her face blankly. It felt like I was looking through one of those filters Madi had on her phone but I could feel her hand on my back rubbing soothingly.

“Seriously, P-465?” another Nova with long dark hair chimed in, pulling her away to give me space to breathe. 

“Goddammit, Kat. It’s Pinkie. You know that,” she reared back at annoyed looking version of me.

“K-Kat? P-Pinkie?” I stammered, trying to make sense of everything. “Y-Y-You’re not Novas?”

“It’s only fucking Pinkie when you’re not on my last goddamn nerve,” Kat retorted before looking back at me with a sigh. “No, we’re Novas. We’ve adopted nicknames so we can keep each other straight. It gets old when some says Nova and five people respond.”

“Y-Y-Yea, makes total sense,” I nodded numbly. “W-What are you all doing here?”

“Why don’t you just get your head on straight, first,” Punk Nova said comfortingly. “I’m Riff, by the way. That’s Harley-” she pointed to a fourth Nova with red and black hair “-and fuck knows where Norma went. She’s new around these parts.”

“S-So, you guys are h-here because you want to be r-r-right?”

“Of course we are! We lost our Ricks, so Ricky takes care of us,” Pinkie gushed, staring at the door. My stomach churned at her infatuation with the rockstar, knowing exactly which dark part of me that stemmed from.

“Ugh, she makes it sound so weird,” Kat groaned, glaring at the pink haired version of her. “My Rick blew himself up, so I tried to go to the Citadel for help because I was heartbroken. They couldn’t help but they sent me to… him. He took me in and he does take care of me but it’s not how Pinkie makes it sound. I’m not helpless without him. I just didn’t want to… be without him.”

“I’m sorry I love him, Kat,” Pinkie shot coldly, “I don’t want him to think I’m taking him for granted.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Riff swore, “just shut the fuck up Pinkie.”

“Rick knows how I feel about him,” Kat hissed, advancing toward Pinkie.

“Kat, don’t.” Riff tried to mediate between the two but the fury in Kat’s eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen in the mirror. “She’s not worth it.”

“You know he hates it when you two fight,” Harley groaned, finally pulling her nose out of the book she’d been reading. “He’s about to go on stage, he doesn’t need you at each other's throats.”

The bickering between the four continued as I watched, unable to believe any of it. How were these girls… me? Sure we were physically identical for the most part but the difference in our personalities was glaring.

“Ladies, ladies,” Ricky mitigated, clapping his hands as he entered the room. My Rick followed closely behind him, the smirk lurking beneath the surface coming to fruition as he met my eye.

“She started it!” Pinkie cried, running into Ricky’s arms. He groaned, pulling her away to look her in the eyes.

“Come on Pinkie,” he growled, “This is just fucking juvenile, you know that right?”

“She kept egging me on,” Kat snarled, standing up defiantly.

“Just- Don’t,” Ricky chastised her, holding up a finger in her direction to silence her. “Pinkie, you need to knock this shit off.”

“I don’t get why she’s here,” Pinkie whined, shooting daggers at Kat.

“N-682, why don’t you and your Nova head out to the balcony seats. I need to take care of this,” Ricky sighed, giving my Rick an apologetic look.

“So that was… weird,” I murmured as we walked back out into the amphitheater to our seats.

“What? Seeing yourself in a thousand different variations?” Rick asked with a grin. “You get used to it.”

“I can’t believe you just let me nose dive into that situation,” I grumbled, shaking my head.

He checked a small sheet of paper that Ricky had given him before pushing through a thick curtain to a small balcony befitted with cozy couches with an excellent view down to the stage. A small group of tittering well-to-do’s were huddled together speaking in low tones, only stopping to lift their piercing gaze to us. Rick shot them a dirty look, pushing past them and flopping down on the couch in front row.

“You would have seen them either way,” he shrugged, kicking his feet up onto the railing, much to the disapproval of the others. “You gonna sit down or what?” 

“Oh shit,” I swore, earning me a dirty look of my own. I sat down on the edge of the couch, back rigid as I fiddled with the hem of my dress. “You know, I think I took our adventures for granted.”

“Oh, did you now?” Rick grinned, raising an eyebrow over at me. “You don’t like your taste of opulence and decadence?”

“Let’s just say, I felt a lot more comfortable in dirty pawn shops and cheap arcades,” I muttered, earning a grin as loudspeaker sounded.

“Hello and welcome guests of Aeon Casino!” an announcer declared as the lights went down and focused on the stage. “Tonight we have a special treat for you, brand new material from the Flesh Curtain’s new album ‘Pushing Buttons’!”

Three figures emerged onto the stage, the crowd roaring with excitement at the sight of them. I recognized Rick immediately but he was joined by what looked like a large bird and a cat. I turned to Rick, my brow furrowed.

“Birdperson and Squanchy,” he shouted over the crowd. “Come on Nova, can’t you just relax and have a little fun?” he asked, pulling me back onto the couch and putting his arm around me. I let out a sigh, trying to emulate the same devil-may-care attitude Rick always had but the eruption of the crowd as the Rick on stage grabbed the mic set me right back on edge. Rick noticed my stiffened demeanor, pulling me in closer and kissing the top of my head.

“What’s up, you pieces of shit!?” Ricky screamed into the mic, surveying the crowd with a smug grin as they roared in delight before passing the mic back to Birdperson.

“Thank you for joining us tonight,” Birdperson said, his voice monotone. I raised an eyebrow at Rick but only received a gentle headshake in response, his eyes trained on the group down below. 

The music was loud and abrasive but I had to admit, I loved it. The group of snobs behind us finally started letting loose as the show went on and they downed drink after drink. They even started sending drinks our way, much to Rick’s delight. When our drinks emptied, another appeared in its place, courtesy of our new friends behind us. Soon enough, one of the women with them grabbed my hand and pulled me in close, dancing sloppily as Rick watched with a bemused grin. My ears were ringing and my cheeks hurt from grinning but I was finally feeling relaxed. No one to judge as I danced and drank, Rick even joining in.

“Squanch you and good night!” the cat on drums shouted before letting out one final drum solo. The show lasted three hours but it truly felt like no time had passed. A large alien bodyguard appeared in our archway, informing Rick and I that Ricky wanted us to come back by his dressing room for an after party. I thanked the group behind before Rick and I followed the creature back down the hallways, pushing through a sea of screaming fans that were just desperate for a glimpse of the band they seemed to live their lives by.

“N-682! You made it!” Ricky shouted, tripping over a large bag of empty beer bottles as Rick pushed his way into the dressing room. While it hadn’t been necessarily clean before, it was truly trashed now. The door to the bedroom had been ripped off its hinges, leaving a perfect view of the Novas doing a line with Squanchy. A group of aliens were spread out on the floor, countless bottles surrounding them as they told stories of antics past while Birdperson sat rigidly in a corner chair, his foot calmly tapping to the beat of the music blasting out of the stereo next to him.

“Rick,” he said evenly, “it is good to see you.”

“‘Pers, my man. Always a pleasure,” Rick said, playfully smacking Birdperson’s shoulder before pulling up a chair next to him. This left me standing awkwardly in the doorway holding my arm and wishing I could just go home or at least back to the room. I opened my mouth to tell Rick but Ricky grabbed my elbow gently.

“Hey, yo*uuurp*u okay?” he asked softly, wearing a look of concern I’d only really seen on my Rick.

“Y-Y-Yeah,” I stammered, shifting nervously and giving my lie away. “I’m just not really good in… social settings, I guess. Plus I’m a little drunk and I’m not even sure why I’m admitting it but here we are.” Ricky chuckled at my rambling but said nothing, nodding over at my Rick and leading me away from the din of the party guests. He opened a door, finding the room occupied by creatures in what looked like a compromising position, slamming it shut quickly as he continued his hunt for somewhere quiet. He finally circled back, going to the only door he had skipped, opening it with an apologetic look.

“Sorry this might not be ideal.”

“This is a bathroom with fresh vomit,” I grinned, holding my fingers under my nose to block most of the smell. The toilet was overflowing with vomit and the sink had its fair share as well. Now this is what I was accustomed to when it came to adventuring with Rick. Dirty surroundings and smells I’d rather not be smelling. I could feel the tension melting away from my shoulders already.

“S-Somehow it doesn’t seem to be bothering you all the much,” he remarked, flushing the toilet fruitlessly.

“This is what my life usually consists of,” I shrugged, “Hell, you get me out of this dress and into some running shoes and I’ll be top of my game.”

He raised an eyebrow, disappearing for a moment and returning with a change of clothes. He held them through the doorway, giving me the privacy to change. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped out of the heels and into a black pair of running shoes. I was grateful to get out of the dress, no matter how beautiful it was and into a pair of leggings and Flesh Curtains tank top. I peeked around the door to find Ricky coming back down the hall with a large bottle and two red cups.

“Oh no, no, no,” I grinned, stepping away from him. “I’ve seen how this timeline goes, a bottle and two cups never ends well for me.”

“Oh come on, Nova,” Ricky grinned, pouring a shot into the cup and handing it over to me. “You said you were already drunk. I think that ships sailed.” I considered a moment, biting my lip to fight back the grin playing on my cheek as I stared at the cup.

“How does alcohol even get you drunk here anyway?” I asked, eyeing the bottle. “Rick said there were no consequences here.”

“Nova, this is a fucking casino. Without booze, this place would be entirely pointless.” 

“Alright then, fine,” I relented, taking the cup and trying to fight the grin spreading over my face. I don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was because he was Rick, even if it was just a different version of him. Maybe it was just the fact he was so kind.

“I knew you’d see reason,” he grinned again, drinking straight from the bottle.

“So why in the hell are you being so nice to me?” I asked, sputtering from the liquor. He raised an eyebrow at me in confusion so I continued, “Like, I’ve been on the Citadel enough for twelve lifetimes. The Ricks there don’t seem to care much about Nova’s there. There was one ready to kill me just to kill my Rick.”

“Oh, damn. I dunno. I like Novas,” he shrugged, pouring us each another shot. “I’m sure your Rick would say I’ve become soft with fame, but I just don’t like seeing Nova’s upset.”

“My Rick would say he’s become soft,” I snorted, taking another drink. “So why do you have a veritable harem here?”

“H-Harem?” he coughed, choking on his drink. “Do you think I keep them around to just fuck them constantly?”

“Well, I mean… what else you be doing with them?”

“Treating them like human fucking beings? If a Nova I meet doesn’t want to sleep with me but needs somewhere to go, I help them. It’s pretty fucking cut and dry,” he explained, “Some stick around, like Pinkie, but some will inevitably move on, like Riff or Kat. I’m a fucking millionaire. I can swing it.”

“But, you’re a Rick, right?” I asked, holding my cup out for more. “From what I’ve come to understand, Ricks don’t do anything without there being a benefit to them.”

“Look, I mean, whatever benefits I get from being around a sea of Novas is inconsequential,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck before downing the rest of his drink.

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Who told you that, anyway? That’s a pretty depressing way to view a guy who’s supposed to lo-care about you.”

“My Morty,” I shrugged, sliding down against the wall. “He’s been, uh, pretty insistent on it lately. He wants me to just leave Rick and just go after someone better.”

“Ugh, Morties,” he grimaced, “Look, don’t listen to that twat. He really doesn’t know shit about shit.”

“Agree to disagree on that one, compadre,” I dismissed lazily, my limbs becoming far heavier than I remembered. “W-Where is Rick, anyway?” 

“He was out there talking to Birdperson last I saw,” he reassured me, sliding down against the wall next to me.

“H-He isn’t worried about where I disappeared to?” I slurred sadly, offering my cup back over to Ricky.

“Come on, sweetheart, he knows I’m with you,” he chastised me.

“H-H-How does he know you’re not in here making moves on me or whatever?”

“Because he knows I’m not one of those Ricks,” he growled. “You really don’t trust how he feels about you do you?”

“Wh-Why should I? He never says anything either way,” I mourned, downing the shot and quickly asking for another.

“Look, I can’t speak for your relationship, but I know that Rick. He was one of the first ones I met when the Citadel formed. There are Ricks out there that don’t care about their Novas. Hell, I heard about one a couple months back who let his Nova overdose because if she couldn’t keep up, then she wasn’t all she was chalked up to be. Do you really think that sounds like the guy you’re with?”

“No,” I admitted shamefully, my head drooping slightly as the alcohol weighed it down. “I’ve just been through a lot-”

“Y-Y-You don’t have to launch into the story, I know it all too well,” Ricky stopped me quickly, holding up a hand. “We Ricks aren’t good with the whole… emotional openness garbage. There are a couple oddballs out there but if you think you’re going to get some soft ‘I’ll love you until the end of time’ crap, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

I didn’t respond, staring into the murky liquid. Ricky didn’t push me, allowing me to lose myself in my thoughts for what seemed like hours until my eyelids started drooping. I felt Ricky push past me gently, pulling the door out and disappearing through it before I lost the fight and let my eyelids slam shut.

“N-Nova. H-Hey Nova, come on. Let me help you up, sweetheart. Let’s go home,” a gruff voice murmured. I could feel my limbs being tugged softly as they were pulled over a set of shoulders as I was brought back up to my feet. “Come on, baby, I’ve got you.”

 “Wh-Wh-What happened?” I asked, trying to open my eyes. “Where am I? Wh-Who are you?”

“Oh jesus, you really got fucked up,” he chuckled, adjusting fruitlessly over his shoulders before letting out a frustrated sigh. “This is not fucking working. Nova, baby, I need you to hold onto me as tight as you can, okay?”

“O-Okay, mystery man,” I giggled. My arm was brought back around his neck, only for him to lift me up, bridal style. I tried to open my eyes again and caught a glimpse of blue hair before they slid shut again. “Which one are you?”

“I could be any Rick in conceivable existence,” he laughed darkly, “and there would be nothing you could do about it.” I recoiled away from him, trying to fight my way out his embrace to no avail. “Jesus Nova, I was joking. It’s me- I’m your Rick,” he groaned, pulling me in tighter. 

“Oh, good,” I nodded, tucking my head back into his chest. The rhythmic bounce of each step lulled me into a complacent state and by the time he sat me back down, we were in his ship, rocketing through space. 

It was dark when finally landed back in the driveway. Most of the alcohol had left my system, leaving me with a throbbing headache and parched throat. Rick pushed his door over, making his way over to my side to pull me out himself.

“Oh shit, you’re awake.” His voice was husky as he surveyed my lazy form, chuckling to himself before walking over to his workbench. He started mixing chemicals, testing his concoction by taste until it seemed to be satisfying enough. He brought his finished product back over to me, offering it to me.

“No offense, but what the fuck is that?” I asked bluntly.

“L-Look- Just drink it okay? Your fuckin’ head hurts right? This will make it stop.”

I grabbed the cup out of his hand, smelling it once for good measure before downing it. The taste was vile but the pain in my head and stomach stopped up instantly as my vision cleared up. I pulled myself out of the ship, surprised to find my legs steady as I stood up.

“Wh-What was in that?”

“It’s just my hangover cure,” he shrugged. “It’s been saving my ass over the last twenty years.”

“Thanks, Rick,” I murmured, moving closer to him. “For everything. I had a lot of fun.”

“Y-Yeah, no problem,” he stammered, his voice gravelly as he rested his hand on the small of my back. 

My head may have been cleared up by his “cure” but being this close to him was intoxicating all on its own. I bit my lip as I looked up at him, earning me a low growl as he pressed his lips to mind, kissing me desperately. I returned his kiss eagerly, pulling him closer to me. He picked me up with ease, carrying me over his workbench.

“Are you sure you wanna do this out here?” I breathed, breaking the kiss to both of our frustration. “Beth-”

“Beth’s asleep,” he growled, reclaiming my lips. I wanted to continue arguing but his wandering hands pushed the thought right out of my mind. He worked his hand up under my shirt, pleased to find no bra underneath. My breast was cupped in one hand while the other worked its way into my hair, curling around my hair to pull my head away from him. My neck exposed, he watched me squirm underneath of him. I was completely under his control and he was enjoying every moment of it.

“R-Rick- Rick please,” I begged softly, desperate for stimulation of any kind.

“All in good time, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear, lingering just inches away. “What do you want me to do to you, Nova? Tell me what you want.”

“R-Rick, I-”

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl.”

“I want- I want you, please,” I cried desperately, “I want you so fucking bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know that,” he chuckled darkly. “I want to know what you want me to do to you right now. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to make you scream my name until you forget your own?”

“Jesus, fuck yes, Rick,” I gasped, biting my lip again. He growled softly at the sight, panting softly as he dropped his hand from my breast, searching instead for the warmth below. He traced his fingers around my thighs, making sure to avoid the most sensitive area.

“So you want me to slide my cock in right here?” he asked, tracing a large circle around the throbbing mound between my legs.

“I need it,” I pleaded, clawing at his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Who am I to deny you?” he cooed in my ear, releasing my hair and gripping the sides of my yoga pants. He tossed them to the side as the cool air swirled around my exposed lower half. I shivered as I watched him unbuckle his pants, letting them fall lazily to ground as he pushed his way between my thighs. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down my moist slit.

“Oh Rick, oh fuck,” I murmured, my hands firmly rooted on his shoulders.

“Say my fucking name, Nova. Let the neighbors know who’s fucking you,” he growled, continuing his assault on my clit to torturous effect.

“Rick!” I moaned. At my compliance he slid the tip in, sliding it in and out slowly.

“Louder, Nova. I don’t think they heard you,” he ordered, his voice being over by a slight pant.

“Fuck, Rick! It’s you! Rick fucking Sanchez!” I shouted, letting my head fall back. He slammed into me finally as I continued screaming his name as loud as I possibly could. I released his shoulders, laying back on the table and pulling my knees into my chest. He quickened his pace, using his thumb to massage my clit gently.

“Fuck, Nova,” he panted as he buried himself in me, “You feel fucking amazing.”

I could feel my orgasm building, only moments from my release as he fell into a steady rhythm. I would have made there had it not been for the garage door swinging open, slamming into the dryer behind it.

“God fucking dammit, Dad!” Beth bellowed, shielding her eyes from the sight of her father burying his cock into her best friend. “I cannot fucking do this anymore, you guys need to stop!”

“H-Hold on, honey,” Rick grunted, quickening his pace.

“R-Rick, no- Stop,” I insisted, pushing him away from me. He conceded, pulling out of me and bending down to pull his pants up.

“What the fuck do you want, Beth?” he snarled, turning to face his daughter, taking care to shield my exposed form. I looked around desperately for my pants only to find them dangling haphazardly on the Meeseeks box.

“I want this to fucking stop,” she demanded, avoiding my gaze. “You’re waking up the entire fucking house. I sure as fuck don’t want to hear it.”

“B-Beth, I-I’m sorry,” I blushed, pulling my shirt down as much as possible.

“You know what, I don’t want to fucking hear it, Nova. Your daughter is asleep in this house,” she hissed, finally meeting my gaze. A look of fury I had never seen before distorted her features as she glared at me, turning to disgust as her eyes drifted downward. “Dad, you need to stop this, now. Nova, it might be time for you to start looking for somewhere else to live.”

“B-Beth, wait- please, no,” I begged, tears streaking down my cheeks.

“You know, I’m starting to think Jerry was right about you two,” Beth said coldly, “I thought I was okay with it when it meant Dad would stay but I was wrong. What you’re doing with him is wrong. He’s my fucking father, you sick fucking bitch,”

“Jesus fucking christ Beth, stop,” Rick cut in, advancing toward her. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that.”

“Why not?” she asked hysterically. “You two didn’t consider my feelings in the situation. I’m just supposed to be okay with it? Even when the thought makes me feel sick to my stomach?”

“Your fucking hangups are not our problems,” Rick snarled. He grabbed my pants off of the shelf, tossing them back to me. I slipped them on quickly and pushed past Rick.

“Beth, I’m sorry. We were really inconsiderate, I’m so fucking sorry.” I pleaded with my friend to see reason but the cold, clinical disgust in her eyes assured me it was a lost cause.

“You need to leave,” she repeated coldly. “Madison can stay here until you have somewhere to go but I suggest you go back to your house tonight. I don’t want to see you here in the morning.”

“Beth, she’s not going anywhere-”

“No, Rick. It’s fine,” I conceded, wiping the tears away as I pushed the garage door opener.

“No, Nova. You’re not going anywhere,” he roared, pushing the button again. “I-I can fix this.” He started digging through the drawers at his workbench, finally extracting a large gun with two discs. He pushed a couple buttons before aiming it at Beth, pulling the trigger. She crumpled to the floor, eyes glazed over.

“Rick! What did you do to her?” I asked, horrified. “Did you kill Beth?!”

“Wh-What? No?” he retorted, insulted by the accusation. “I just erase the last half an hour from her memory. I’m going to put her back in her bed, when she wakes up she won’t remember any of this.” He pulled a vial from the device, loading it with another before sitting it down on his workbench.

“S-So, everything’s okay now?” I asked numbly. He nodded quickly, pulling Beth over his shoulder. “I’m just- I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Y-You okay?” he asked, stopping at the door to face me.

“I-I’m fine,” I murmured, pushing past him. I couldn’t get Beth’s words out of my head as I went into my room, locking the door behind me before collapsing in my bed.

“He’s my fucking father, you sick bitch.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time for me to leave.

[goodbysunball]

Quarantine Rock

Been a minute. I’ve been driven back to the ‘net by the unfortunate situation the entire world is in. I’m trying hard to keep occupied and keep cool instead of binging news and Instagram, and music, as always, has been a salve. Most of the below titles are just new to me, though not necessarily new - but we’ve pretty much all got the time to reminisce or to go back and search for buried gems, so here goes.

Tori Kudo, The Last Song of My Life LP (An’archives) / Tori Kudo & Kayo Makino, Ein Traum Für Dich LP (Black Truffle)

Tori Kudo’s always been on the periphery of my listening, but aside from the Mu Ji Ge 7″, this is really my first time diving into his extensive body of work. His newest solo LP is The Last Song of My Life, where as bandleader Kudo leads a melancholy saunter meditating on one motif for its duration, occasionally pocked by noise, apparently “depending on their response to the film work that was being projected.” You don’t need the film to get to the emotive heart of this, and the motif will be stuck in your head for days. Strangely beautiful, and somewhat disarming, even if the errant elbow strikes you in the ribs now and then. My go-to reading soundtrack lately. Beautiful presentation by An’archives, as usual. This one flew off the shelves, so be sure to grab it if you see it in the wild.

Last year Kudo released a collaborative LP with Kayo Makino on Black Truffle, and if you’re daunted by The Last Song of My Life, this one goes even further down the rabbit hole. I prefer Ein Traum Für Dich though; Kudo’s on piano, playing Satie on the A-side and some meandering progression on the flip, and Makino digitally distorts and heightens Kudo’s playing, occasionally adding spoken word samples and processed noise. The A-side is interesting, both of them playing with the possibilities of this pairing, Makino layering and offsetting Kudo’s melody to nauseating effect. The B-side is the reason for tuning in, though: Makino’s static stretches and overwhelms Kudo at points, making for a hypnotic and immersive 20+ minute ride. It’s a trip, the whole album acting as an audial blackout curtain, or the mesmerizing escape we all could use. Grab the LP from Forced Exposure for 15% off now.

Hardijs Lediņš, Tiny Crabs of Deep Waters LP (Musiques Electroniques Actuelles)

Been digging into the NSRD collective’s work a bit lately, though I’m not gonna pretend like I’m some sort of expert - the Latvian Centre for Contemporary Art published a comprehensive book about the group a few years ago if ya wanna become one, though. I’m partway through the book; my takeaway so far is that the NSRD collective, led by Hardijs Lediņš and Juris Boiko, found ways to subvert oppressive Soviet rule through a freedom of expression and thought seldomly encountered. Part of that expression was of course music, and the Workshop For the Restoration of Unfelt Feelings compilation on Stroom is the best introduction (good luck finding the LP). The music was largely electronic, somewhat ahead of its time and also totally cracked given the relative isolation of Latvia during this time. Tiny Crabs of Deep Waters is another entryway to the group’s music, this time a reissue of an impossible-to-find CDr from Hardijs Lediņš. The synth-heavy, largely instrumental record should appeal to fans of the soundtrack work of Tangerine Dream or John Carpenter, but the whole thing carries this strange sense that something is a bit off. Cartoonish keyboard effects collide with rich bass tones in a conventional yet dizzying manner, if you lean in close. The LP’s been a great shot in the arm when the day gets too sleepy, especially when the beat kicks in on the 13-minute “La Danse Binoculaire De Paris.” Top notch reissue, released at the end of last year, and can still be had on Discogs.

Teitanblood, Death 2xLP (Norma Evangelium Diaboli/The Ajna Offensive)

Yeah, this one makes sense right now: absolutely blistering black metal from Spain, the 2014 follow-up to modern classic Seven Chalices that I didn’t check out for some reason until now. Teitanblood is smothering and chaotic, and hardly conventional, but an admittedly complicated method exists behind the screen. There’s hardly a more cathartic record available to me than Death, especially the duo of “Plagues of Forgiveness”/”Cadaver Synod” that takes up face B. The band released The Baneful Choir last year, and that one smokes, too. Grab both LPs from Hell’s Headbangers or direct from the Ajna Offensive and burn straight out of this reality.

Martina Lussi, Diffusion Is a Force LP (Latency)

A totally engrossing and absorbing sound world created by Switzerland’s Martina Lussi on Diffusion Is a Force. The samples used - wheezing breaths, dribbling basketballs, roaring crowds - introduce a human element to the rich, warm tapestries. No beats to ride on here, but a track like “Higher Energy” cuts to the core with a Loren Connors-esque guitar part, which is then slowly displaced by rumbling, punctuated bass. The album feels very light and warm, as if in a fog, and the careful sequencing shifts the mood imperceptibly from track to track. Obviously I am not well-versed in electronic music, and there’s probably a name for what Lussi does so well here, but whatever it is, Diffusion Is a Force hits me right in the chest while gettin’ the synapses firing. Find the LP on Discogs, or support 2 Bridges Music Arts during this time of small business strain.

Reek Minds, s/t 7″ (Edger) / Suck Lords, True Lords Music 7″ (Edger) / Pig DNA, Mob Shity MLP (La Vida Es Un Mus) / Pig DNA, Strong Throat 7″ (Square One Again)

It’s inevitable that some anger will boil over from time to time, from the ineptitude shown by governments worldwide to the jackass hoarding hand sanitizer right here in Tennessee. These four records will stomp the anger right outta ya so you can get back to staring at the ceiling and forcing yourself to breathe calmly. Reek Minds’ 7″ is new this year, and they blaze through 8 tracks, coming off like the late, great Sickoids while still sprinkling in some mosh-worthy bits (see “A.M.”). Matt K. at Yellow Green Red thinks Iron Lung will be calling for Reek Minds to join their ranks soon, and I agree. Apparently there are 2 copies of Reek Minds’ self-titled 7″ left at Bandcamp as of this writing. They share members with Suck Lords, who somehow play even faster, approaching powerviolence speeds, their drummer giving Jerry’s Kids’ Brian Betzger a run for his money. The Lords are a little more goofy than Reek Minds, though you wouldn’t know it if they hadn’t included a lyric sheet and a “Getting to Know the Lords” insert with last year’s True Lords Music record. Grab some Lords from Not For Everyone.

Pig DNA, for their part, drop an atomic bomb on the whole thing, their 2015 MLP Mob Shity sounding strangely prescient and utterly unforgiving. From the opening track “Foire,” Pig DNA throw down the gauntlet, every track seeming to possess more ludicrous levels of noise smothering the piledriving riffs than the previous one. There’s d-beat in there somewhere, but I’m not gonna stick my hand in the caustic stew to find it. “Scums (City Rockers)” is my pick, but the whole thing is an unrelenting assault and worthy successor to Kriegshög’s s/t LP. Hard to handle nuclear material, so it’s still available for as low as $6. The band followed up Mob Shity with Strong Throat, possibly the shortest 7″ record I own, that continues down the same path. It’s worth hunting down (here ya go) for the B-side, where the drums drop out and the band still gnashes and claws at the walls with all its got. Insane. May their message live on in these chaotic days ahead.

[darthrena]

(Your Kisses) Taste like Come what May

Excerpt:

“I promise you will love her.  She’s funny, smart, absolutely gorgeous–Just one date is all I am asking.”

“What has gotten into you all of a sudden.  Is this girl on the run from ICE or something?”

“Armie asked me to marry him.”

Ben felt his world collapsing.  His mild amusement long forgotten under the weight of a thousand unspoken words, missed opportunities, and imagined confessions.

Rose’s voice seemed to come from far away.  "Ben?  Aren’t you going to say anything?“

Ben swallowed, forced his throat to produce sounds other than screaming, or worse, a sob.  Oddly, when his mouth felt capable of speech, it was a faint rasp, no hint of the tempest which roiled within.  "Congratulations.  You deserve to be happy.”

o-o-o-o-o-o

Summary:

Ben, Rose and Hux grew up together.  Ben loves Rose, but Rose and Hux are together.  After Rose and Hux become engaged, Rose tries to set Ben up with her friend Rey.  He reluctantly agrees to go on a date.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A step over the threshold and the familiar creaking of wood, weakened by time and salt-air, and aroma of hearty chowder and ale engulfing his senses, Ben knew he made the right choice.

Nestled between a trendy Korean tapas place and a shoe repair shop with flaking blue paint Ben could recall from his childhood, Takodana was sedate even on a Saturday night. Eclectic knick knacks ranging from a Rico Petrocelli bobblehead, a 1984 Bruce Springsteen poster yellowing at the edges, a carved wooden mask allegedly depicting a warrior of Venezuelan origin, to vibrant weavings of alpaca wool, lined the walls and cluttered the entrance way. Questionable decor aside, the whiskey, unpretentious beef stew, fries and a decent chowder on the menu had long ago made it Ben's favorite bar.

The proprietress, Maz, eyed him from beneath thick rimmed glasses and a bevy of judgement as he slipped into his favorite booth across from the bar. "Ben Solo," she drawled, giving little reassurance in either tone or posture, hands on hips and brow arched.

"Hey Maz," he greeted warily, as Maz stepped from behind the counter.

At last the petite lady put him out of his misery. "I ran into your mother the other day. Said you haven't been home since Christmas."

Right. It wasn't like Ben was avoiding his mother, at least, anymore than usual.  After quitting his job, and getting away from Snoke's insidious manipulations, it had been cathartic almost, reconciling with his mother and Uncle.  your father would be proud, his mother's voice hoarse with tears of grief and pride.  As lovely and neat as the story would appear on the cover or told over dinner parties when his mother was three Merlots in and giving him meaningful, tearful glances--prodigal son returned home and joined his mother's firm--things were still a bit strained.  Their specialties of law differing as they did, weeks could go by without seeing his mother at the office.  Ben made a concerted effort to call his mother once a month, or at least have Kaydel order her flowers or a bottle of wine when he couldn't bring himself to.  "I've just been busy," he mumbled, unable to summon even a modicum of coolness in the face of such obvious disapproval.

Maz tutted at the flimsy excuse, but seemed to relent slightly, moving back toward the bar.  "It'll be the usual then?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned but for the hub of other patrons chatting and the slight clink of glass as Maz's weathered hands deftly prepared his usual starting drink, an old fashioned.

Maz brought him his drink, laying it down on a lacy, crocheted coaster.  "You want the stew?  I also have a Saturday Chowder."

Ben twitched a smile.  "What makes it a Saturday Chowder again?"

"It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"So just the regular chowder then?"

The spry old lady made a swatting motion with a ladle nowhere near impacting him.  "Don't be fresh with me, Benjamin Organa Solo."

"Oh I wouldn't dare."  Ben took a savoring sip of his old-fashioned.  It was perfect as always.

Maz was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye that should have been a warning of the subject she had been warming up to.  "Just like your father, you are."

Ben forced himself to keep his shoulders from tensing.  It was easier now, breath in, breath out.  When he spoke, however, none of the grief and anger that had once roiled like an summer storm within him escaped.  "I guess so."

"You should go next week, Ben."  Maz's voice was so very gentle.  "Your mother needs you."

"I'll think about it."  Ben cleared his throat.  A burning feeling was crawling up his chest to gouge his eyes.  A judicious sip of his drink doused it slightly, but a distraction was welcome.  "I'll think about the Saturday chowder too.  Hux is joining me though, so I'll wait for him to order."

"Alright then."

After a brief pat against his shoulder, Maz went to attend to a middle aged couple across the bar, and Ben was left alone.

Three gnomes and a tarnished silvery ash tray shaped like a crab on the table beside him were his only company.  Ben spared them a slight smile touched with nostalgia.  The crab shaped ashtray had been a favorite as a child, tagging along with his Dad to Takodana on sweltering afternoons.  A whiff of tobacco, his father's gravely voice and lopsided smile, Don't tell your mother we came here instead of the zoo.

Ben had never minded.  Maz gave him coloring books and the best lemonade, sweating over lace doilies.  Uncle Chewie would drop by, ruffle his hair and tell stories about Mara, the Chieftain of Coquivacoa, who fought the Spanish Conquistadores, or of stomping through the rainforests of Java, weakened by Dengue fever and harangued by monkeys.

There was the sound of the bell ringing, a familiar red head ducking beneath a bright colored talisman.  Dark circles starkly shadowed Hux's steely green eyes, but he still lit up in a smile as his long strides brought him to the seat across Ben.

"Solo, sorry for running late.  Rose was piqued at the sudden boys night, and decided to distract me until I divulged the nature of our evening.  Alas, despite her efforts I kept mum."  Hux regarded him with raised eyebrows, a satisfied grin softening the highhanded tone.

Ben tried not to think too hard about the nature of the "distraction," while remarking dryly, "Easy enough when I haven't told you anything to divulge."

Hux remained unfazed.  "I had high expectations the lovely Rey would be featured."

Absurd though the impulse was, Ben felt a current of displeasure to hear his friend say her name so casually.  "You've met her?"

"Of course.  Rose has had her over several times.  As a fellow countryman, naturally I approve, but she's delightful company and holds her liquor well."

He thought back to the other night, of Rey, six drinks in straddling his face as he ate her out.  "That she does."

Old friends that they were, Hux allowed the topic to drop momentarily, waving over an only too happy Maz to place his order.

Food orders taken (Saturday chowder for Ben, the stew for Hux, with fries to share), Maz drew a IPA from the tap, while fixing her eager sights on Hux.  "'heard you finally made an honest woman of your girl.  Congratulations, dear.  Shame Rose couldn't come tonight."

Hux grinned back, the same beatific look he'd been sporting ever since Rose accepted his proposal lightening his naturally haughty features.  It was easier to focus on his glass and slowly diluting brown liquid as the ice melted, than Hux cheerfully accepting Maz's congratulations.  "--tonight's just us.  Rose sends her love."  Shooting Ben a wink he could do without, Hux continued slyly, "Perhaps next time we'll be back on a double date."

Fuck.

Maz swiveled with super human speed to bring the full throttle of her bespectacled gaze upon himself.  "Started seeing someone?" She cooed with feigned casualness than fooled no one.  Already Ben could sense the gears turning--Maz wasn't one for smartphones, but in the next 24 hours he imagined she would be calling on his mother for tea, or using Takodana's ancient rotary if she deemed the matter too pressing.

While glaring at an unrepentant Hux, Ben hurried to deescalate the conversation.  "It's nothing serious.  Hux is just giving me a hard time."

The man himself merely smiled innocently.  "Rose made it sound different.  Perhaps I misunderstood."

Maz seemed a little disappointed, if skeptical, but she left them to bring their orders to the kitchen.

Finally left alone, Hux dropped all pretense.  "Sorry, I had to tease you a little.  But you know Rey would love this place."

Rey would fit right in to Takodana.  It was easy to imagine Rey cozying across the booth, a tequila neat or a Belgian white ale in hand, cheeks flushed and hair loose as she gossiped with Maz and laughed too loud with Rose.  She would love hearing Uncle Chewie's tales that sounded half like fiction.  He could imagine her asking in that charming lilt about all the odd bops and bits in the shop, and telling her about the time he spilled a customer's beer over the velour bar seat or the time first he snuck a sip of alcohol and Dad had just laughed and Dad--

Dad would have loved her.

"Yeah, she would.""Ben..."  He glanced up at the rather serious tone, and solemn look Hux was sporting.  "Did you mean that?  About it being nothing serious."

Did he mean it?  He thought of Rose, smiling sadly as she told him, So do you, you know.  Of Rey's knowing hazel eyes.  You have feelings for Rose, don't you?

"I don't know," he admitted.

There was a sound of huffed laughter from his side.  "Dude, you have it bad."

Ben grimaced.  "Please, don't say Dude."

"Hombre."

"Please stop talking."

"Homie?"

The next couple hours passed in a blur of warm food and easy conversation.  Hux let Ben off the hook for the most part on the subject of Rey.  After Hux had drunkenly complained about the wedding planning for thirty minutes--"Why do we need to have a rehearsal dinner and a wedding?  Why must the party favors match the bridesmaid dresses?"-- Ben surprised himself by bringing it up.  Although, alcohol likely had somewhat to do with it.

"I don't know what to do about Rey."

"You should just call her, mate," Hux slurred with exasperation.

"And say what?" he snapped back.

Hux shrugged.  "I like you.  I want to date you?  Doesn't seem all that complicated."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.  His head felt muddled under the weight of alcohol and confusion of his emotions.  "On our date, I told her that I'm not looking for a serious relationship."

"And?"

"And now I don't know what to do."  Hux was poised to argue again, so Ben cut him off hastily, "I don't know what I want to do."

After a moment's pause, Hux rubbed his face blearily.  "Look, Ben, I think you're overthinking this.  How do you know she's looking for a serious relationship?  She's what, 25 years old?  If you want to see her, tell her you want to see her.  If you want to date her, tell her that."

That seemed...reasonable.

Hux was right.  He didn't have to have everything figured out just yet.

If he wanted to see Rey again, then he should just ask her.

Which was how he found himself standing on the corner as he waited for his cab, dialing Rey's number.

It rang a few times, a length sufficient for Ben's anxiety to stir to life restlessly, before a sleepy voice answered at the last ring.

"Hello?"

"It's Ben."

"Ben!"  The voice sounded much more awake now.  There was a low chuckle that sent a warm, molten pulse through his veins.  She must have been sleeping.  Ben wondered idly if Rey slept bare as she had in his company, or if she wore a ratty t-shirt over panties, if her nipples pressed through the thin fabric.  His fantasies were interrupted by Rey continuing with obvious amusement, "I was following the advice of all those Just Seventeen magazines I read growing up, and planned to text you in the morning.  Seems like it paid off."

"Oh."  Ben considered this information for a moment.  "I read mostly read F&SF.  The fantasy and science fiction magazine.  They didn't offer much dating advice."

Now Rey laughed full out.  "No, I'd imagine not," she replied after catching her breath.

"I want to see you again."

Inebriated though he was, Ben could detect the smile in Rey's voice.  "We literally just saw each other this morning."

"Technically it was yesterday."

"That should tell you something of the appropriateness of your phone call."

Oops.  "Sorry."

There was another huff of laughter over the receiver that briefly whited the sound.  "Look Ben..."

That beginning was not promising.  Nerves bubbling up his gut, Ben was helpless against the flow of babble as he cut her off: "I can't stop thinking about you.  The way you taste.  Your cunt clenching on my tongue, the sounds you make when you come.  And the way you laugh.  Whether you like green tea tiramisu or hate IPAs."

"Fuck, Ben."  There was a weak laugh on the other end, overwhelmed and something else his alcohol impaired brain couldn’t translate.  "Are you always like this?"

"No," he breathed back.  "Not at all.  Never."

"Ben."  Her voice was a sweet sigh.  There had never been a more lovely sound than her lips around his name.  "I want you too.  It's just, well, what about Rose?"

"Rey."

His mind was in free fall.  The ground beneath his feet had slipped away.  What about Rose?  He loved her, didn't he?  He grasped at bits of thoughts, stray feelings, a warmth that was Rose's smile and nose scrunched in glee, and a smoldering burn that was Rey's lips parted in ecstasy--but those sum of parts defied revelation, no, he refused to summate them.  He was vaguely aware of his panicked breathing, but remained in paralyzed impasse.  When Rey spoke, her voice was tentative and gentle and far better than he deserved.

"Ben?  It's alright.  I understand."

"You understand?" he repeated dumbly.  How could she make sense of what he barely comprehended?

"Yes."  There was a pause, and a hitch in Rey's breathing.  "Well, you want something more casual.  I get it.  We had a lot of fun together.  But if you don't mind, I'd like to think it over.  Maybe you should too, when you aren't drunk."

No, that's not what he meant.  Tell her now.  Open your mouth.  "Oh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There was a pause that stretched on and on.

Then.

"Goodnight, Ben."

His name spoken like a caress lingered in his mind long into sleep.

Also posted on AO3

[slappytrees]

got tagged in a thing!

rules: answer the soft Q&A’s and tag 5 of your most recent followers and 3 of your biggest fans, fave blog/users. I was tagged by @bau-liya

what’s the smell of your shampoo?: is garnier fructis have its own smell? whatever that is, that is my shampoo. fruity but doesn’t actually smell like a particular fruit.

what’s your aesthetic?: reading a book on the couch clutching a renaissance festival mug full of cheap off-brand earl grey tea on a rainy day

what is your favourite time of the day?: 10am sunrise on winter solstice

what do you like the most about the beach?: i had a really hard time answering this question because on one hand, i love the beach. i love laying on a towel with my feet in the hot sand and a good book in my hands. i love dog-paddling in the ocean like an idiot because i’m too lazy and out of shape to swim like a proper human. 

but at the same time, i love that we like to hang out and chillax in this place that is ecologically kind of harsh? most of the animal life on the beach is either buried under the sand or scavenging carcasses on the shore. a few years ago, my boyfriend and i went to the beach in delaware after the horseshoe crab mating season and the beach was littered with corpses of the crabs that weren’t able to get back into the water after they were done. we’re all low-key making sandcastles and reading cheesy novels in a graveyard and because i’m really weird i think that’s kinda cool. 

what do you worry about constantly?: not graduating college

what is a song you’ve cried to before?: that suicide hotline song that logic did bums me out a whole lot, but it’s kind of a cathartic cry.

what are some relaxing tips for your followers?: i’m the worst person to ask, i literally have no chill. drink some tea? wear your pajamas to the grocery store? whatever floats your boat.

what are some things that make you tear up?: can’t think of an answer that isn’t a buzzkill, so let’s go with kimi no na wa. i watched that movie a couple months ago and bawled like a baby.

what is your favourite from each of the five senses?:

sight: uhhhh this is hard. we went to hawaii once and while we were there we went on a mountain hike in the lushest, greenest place i’d ever seen. the fog was really dense and it was very otherworldly.

sound: rain

smell: cedar trees

touch: my cat’s soft fur

taste: my mom’s strawberry rhubarb pie 

what is one alternate reality you’d want to be in?: POKEMON. universal health care?? i can start an adventure at ten years old?? if someone tries to attack me all i gotta do is beat them in a battle and they’ll leave me alone?? i can become a pokemon professor and live my bestest life??? YES PLS.

what are some troubles you face on a day to day basis?: the goddamn financial aid office at my university.

what is one scene of a book that’s made you really sad?: one of the last scenes in good morning, midnight by lily brooks-dalton was super super heartbreaking and wistful. i wouldn’t put the book on my list of favorites, but the ending just. kinda. clung to my chest for at least a month after finishing it.

say something to all your followers: 

according to the rules, I’m tagging: i’m weirdly uncomfortable with tagging people for reasons that don’t make a lick of sense. if you’re not a porn bot and you wanna answer some questions, do it and say i tagged you!

[cancerstress]

11/24/2021

Today is Murphy’s birthday.  My sweet Daffodil, the youngest of our friend group and, arguably, was previously one of the meanest bitches to walk the earth.  She used to be so demanding and entitled, leftover from her parent’s wealth before they gambled away the family farm.  When they lost the house, we all went in with sledgehammers and busted the walls out.  Such a shitty thing to do, but I remember crawling out the bathroom window one last time to lay on the roof where we used to tan and smoke weed. I had just been diagnosed for the first time, and when I swung the hammer, everyone went silent.  It was awkward and cathartic. 

I cannot believe that same rude asshole is now working for NASA and making more money than the rest of us could ever dream about.  She’s independent, brave, hilarious, still my baby. It’ll be good to see everyone Friday, even though I do not feel up for parties, especially those at her brother’s trap house. 

I sometimes miss my delinquency. I was the perfect child in high school, but as soon as I met Janice at the MSU call center, it was over for me.  The team assembled: me, Jan, Murphy and Morgan (the Stratton sisters), Rachel, Jess, Kevin, Daniel, Malcolm floating in and out, Carissa (beautiful, blonde love), Ellen...and a few ins and outs. We would drink and smoke and talk philosophy until someone got into a fight. Then it was time to play beer pong and shave Daniel’s eyebrows off at his request. One time at the Stratton farm I drank too much skip n’ go naked and woke up in the cow field. My shoes smelled like mold from the dew for weeks after. It was completely reckless and wonderful.

After cancer, I became the all too serious friend with extreme anxiety and paranoia that later was founded when Rachel and Morgan were caught shit-talking everyone in the basement of Jess’s house. It had been a long time coming for us to fall apart. We all wanted different things, and being together all the time was grating.  It’s honestly only been since Liam was born that we started talking again, and only since this summer that we’ve attended the same functions.  Everyone but Rachel, who is working at a Speedway in London after suddenly breaking up with her fiancé. Me and Jess became incredibly close after the split and really bonded over the years. Hence my status as godmother. Finding family with the McKendrees has been my biggest blessing. 

Today we’re celebrating Thanksgiving at work. I still feel like the new girl when I come here, and then I realize it’s because I am. I don’t know how to bond with these women.  That’s not saying they’re unfriendly.  Everyone is very welcoming and supportive, but I do feel like I am misunderstood by all except Miki, my mentor. I think I’m a bit of a mystery to them, and vice versa. When we went to a charity boat cruise on the Ohio River, I was the only one sober. Half a liver keeps me a prude. When Alyssa was drunk enough, she asked me about my sexuality in front of the girls, assuring me she wasn’t homophobic. It was incredibly uncomfortable, mostly because I don’t care to explain my sexuality to people. People tend to complicate a shrug, and I still challenge myself in the idea that I am more asexual than pansexual. I just wish a shrug was enough to express, “I really don’t care about the details.” I think ever since then they’ve continued to try to get an answer out of me.  It’s not even that it would change how they see me, but more like they think something would suddenly illuminate my strangeness. 

I have no talent for small talk. I don’t know the people they do enough to gossip and carry on. I don’t smoke, or drink, or fuck. I don’t have kids. I just exist. That is hard for people to comprehend. Plus it doesn’t make it better that my favorite types of conversation deal with articles about how crabs are becoming careless in the presence of predators due to being pumped full of Prozac from the water supply. It’s my hope that once I have my degree I’ll have some newfound validation and at least be seen as an intellectual. I’ve been faking intelligence my whole fucking life, so why stop now?

Boss is here. Time to wrap things up and do drink 4 cups of coffee at the Cracker Barrel. 

[becsfannibal]

So I saw this wonderful picture and it inspired me to write a short fic…

🦀☕🏞👬❤💦🌲🐟🦀☕🏞👬❤💦🌲🐟

Hannibal made his way slowly, through the quiet woods. He wasn’t quite sure when this became a ritual, but for the past several years he had done the same thing on this very day. A small cardboard box was under one arm, apart from that the Doctor came with just himself, in more casual attire than he usually donned. He was, after all, on a nature walk as such.

The trees began to thin out as he approached the lake. Well, it was an inlet in reality, a small neck of water joined this expanse to the sea. Streams flowed into the expanse from the risen hills that surrounded it. It was a beautiful analogy to life, ever flowing and moving and changing. It was why he had started to do this. Looking to the sky, the weather was perfect as always, divinity looking fondly upon his task. Hannibal couldn’t remember a year it had rained or even been overcast.

Boots now clunked on the wood of the jetty, it jutted out into the water like a long weathered finger, pointing coincidentally, or perhaps not, towards the corner of the lake that narrowed in its exit into the greater beyond. One he reached the end, he set the small box on the wood carefully, before he gracefully laid down on the surface himself, belly down and head hanging over the edge to stare into the green blue depths. For a moment he just observed the nearly still water below, so clear he could almost make out the details of the rocks on the bed. Sediment and smaller rocks moved gently, swirling, in the ebbs of the tidal flow. Hannibal let the peaceful tranquillity settle around his morose mood. He could only hear the gentle lapping of the water.

“Happy Birthday, Mischa.” He whispered to his own distorted reflection, trying to pick out the features in himself that favoured his sister’s own face. Propping up on his elbows, he took the box and opened it, fingers moving precisely and slowly, making the action reverent. Within lay the broken remains of a plain, white, porcelain teacup. He took a fragment and held it over the water, releasing it to break the glassy surface and then begin to float down. Hannibal watched the white shard’s journey until he could no longer make it out, settled on the bed or moving gently across it. His imagination made the thing dance and swirl, in a carefree manner. He selected the next fragment, held it out and dropped it.

——-

Will was focussed on the crab intently, the thin rope had entangled itself quite complexly around the claw and several legs of the anxious creature. He hummed gently, the vibrations passing through the water until the crab felt them, the jittery movements of his limbs stilled. Will smiled, bubbles escaping his nose and making their way to break the surface of the water far above them.

With a final pull, the rope came free of it’s knot and slipped away from the creature. Will held on to the offending item tightly so it would not ensnare a new victim. Flexing its freed limbs for a brief moment, the crab scurried off. Contentment settled on the man as he began to stretch, having curled up tightly to complete his job. His body rolled and he unfurled his tail gracefully, large fins spreading and waving slightly in the movement of the water. Arms stretched out, then bent, resting hands behind his head as he laid upon the bed of the lake. Clear blue eyes stared up through his environment, passed the clear surface that was the roof of his home, to the sky above. White clouds moving, flowing with the breeze that formed them. The normal waves of the surface water were broken up by minute ripples, one coming after the other. Eyebrows drew together for a brief moment before memory kicked in.

Rolling to his side, the merman pushed himself away from the floor and his powerful tail pulsed, propelling him quickly and elegantly through the deep water, making his way to his vantage spot. Nearing the rocks, his fingers found the familiar crevices that allowed him to haul himself out from the water. Will laid, stomach flat on the cold, hard surface. He peered over the rock, slowly, breathing the air that was able to maintain him, but still feeling alien to him. Keeping his body still, he observed the man, as he had the last few years, laying down as he was, slowly dropping those shards into the expanse below him. The sadness was palpable. At first he had felt angry at the man for dropping the sharp objects in the water, but as the years passed that feeling had dissipated leaving only curiosity and a kind of affection. He watched humans often in this place, together or alone, smiling, laughing, sometimes crying. But there was something altogether different about this human, a deep feeling of sadness seemed to vibrate from him. A unique and utterly lonely being, Will could see this quite clearly, and he could relate entirely. Fingertips itched to reach out and breach the divide between them. To know, to see and be seen. Worrying his lip, he hesitated. His mind was set to what he had planned, nerves laced through him.

Sliding back into the water, he efficiently made his way to the cove he called home. A dogfish rested on the surface of a rock, turning slightly as the merman entered, then resting it’s head back down. Will was familiar with most if the creatures that lingered around him, that particular one he had named Winston. Although it meant nothing to the creature, it gave him a feeling of warmth to have a deeper connection to those around him. Depositing the rope that he still held into a large metal box he had salvaged, he deftly moved to a small rock on the floor. Fingers moved the rock before digging in the sediment, after a short while his fingers found the white edge of the teacup. He had spent hours, the year before, salvaging the pieces. Then more days had been spent making a paste that would hold the pieces, more still assembling them. For some reason it was cathartic, like a balm over a wound he was not aware of. It had laid here, quite safe, awaiting to be returned to the man. Will very carefully cleaned the remaining dirt from the thing, it was hardly perfect but he had felt the need to do something. To fix something for the man. He cupped the thing protectively in his hands, and made his way to the jetty, Winston’s eyes watching him go.

Will had decided to swim around the edge of the lake so as not to be detected by the man, he now laid still a few meters directly underneath the human laying on the jetty and peeked a little further out to watch the man’s face. He was handsome, a stoic beauty about his features in their stillness and concentration. Sharp and strong, utterly dignified in his isolation, almost God like. Will had never been this close to a human before, but he seemed to be drawn towards this man.

——

The final fragment had been dropped some time ago now and he had just been content to watch the life within the water. Hannibal moved to sit up but bubbles broke the surface near the edge of the platform. Dropping his chin his eyes searched the water and his breath hitched as he met a pair of bright blue eyes, intent on his face and submerged a meter or so beneath the surface.

A long moment passed between the two beings, assessments of the nature of the blue eyed man quickly passing through his consciousness and quickly being dismissed. No, he was definitely alive. No, he was in no danger. Stranger still, he seemed in no need to breath. The stab of anger at being observed in his ritual disappeared. A graceful swirl of movement, a flash of scaled muscle, made Hannibal’s eyes widen, uncharacteristically taken aback.

He had seen him now, and there was no going back. Holding the cup gingerly, he wondered how to initiate the exchange. A thought occurred to him, a memory.

A sad boy who had sat on the jetty above, moved to tears. A girl joining him, taking his hand and kissing him. The boy had smiled afterwards.

Will flicked his tail, movement pushing him up and breaking the surface. One hand holding the precious cup, the other gripped the wood of the platform. Blinking water from his eyes he observed the man, inches from him, his sadness shattered by surprise.

Hannibal was well aware his mouth was hanging open, the face before him was not of this world. Dark, long hair was plastered to the pale skin of the Merman’s, face. The blue eyes staring straight into the very core of him. Pink lips parted around nervous breaths, carefully sculptured features made the being utterly breathtaking. Closing his mouth, he searched for something to say, rehearsed courtesy and social cues fleeing from him. Something white flashed in his peripheral vision, as the other hand of the being came to rest on the platform, placing the item carefully next to Hannibal. He needn’t have worried, the Doctors temporary loss for words was quickly ended.

Will pulled himself up, closing the distance between them and pushing his lips softly onto the other man’s. Breath left his own nose as the initial shock left the man, mouth softening on his own. He felt breath travelling over his skin from the man’s own exhale, he had never experienced anything like it and the flesh of his body became bumpy. A hand touched his face tenderly and fingers laced through his hair, holding on to the kiss. The moment was warm and long, no one had ever touched Will before. It was overwhelming. Lips separated and they fed warmed air into one another’s mouths. Releasing the wood, Will slipped under the water, hair slipping through fingers that held their place. Turning his body in the water, the Merman quickly retreated, a mixture of reluctance and giddiness clouding his mind as he darted away.

“Wait!” Hannibal called out to the being, a flash of tail and he was gone. Like the shards, only his imagination keeping the image alive. Hand still held the air where the man had been, his heart pounded. Inhaling deeply, he memorized the scent and taste of the other. Earthy, salty, fresh and compelling to his palate. His curiosity was strangely lacking, he only felt need and eagerness to capture that being again in his fingers.

Sighing deeply, he shifted the position he had held, realising the Merman would not return. Hannibal did not wipe the water from his face, lest the memory of the sweet kiss be distanced all the quicker. Remembering the item the other had left, he turned his head. Eyebrows quickly drew together as he pushed himself up, and curled fingers around the vessel gently. Hannibal almost forgot to breath as he observed the cup. His cup. The cup he had shattered last year, it was indeed the very same, maker’s mark still clear on the base. A substance had been used to piece it together and it made the cup all the more beautiful, the veins sparkled, silver with flecks of green and blue. Like his eyes.

Warmth settled on his eyes as he squeezed them shut. A single tear escaped and slowly travelled over Hannibal’s cheek. The teacup had come back together.  

http://hannibalssketchbook.tumblr.com/post/146092177198/some-more-mer-will-doodles

[sleepymarmot]

I still have about 200 queued posts (bear with me... and sorry followers on mobile), but I want to quickly publish some of my post-binging thoughts before the new episode comes out. (Because I get overwhelmed by other people’s opinions and can’t remember what my own were unless I write them down. It’s easy to recall which parts I simply loved for what they are because other people did too and I can reblog their posts; it’s harder to not forget my own perspective outside of that.)

I didn’t actually expect to post these opinions because I don’t feel comfortable criticizing TAZ the way I tear apart big franchises like ME. But I did write it down, so what the hell. Let’s start with the biggest piece of negativity then. I can't name a favourite arc but I think the last place is Petals to the Metal. The racing sequence was spectacular enough that I didn't mind the pacing that much, but the final episode was really disappointing. A combination of not actually explicitly confirming the pairing in canon (I seriously expected that would be the culmination of the arc) AND Bury Your Gays (yes, I know Griffin dealt with the feedback gracefully, that doesn't fix the actual story though) AND some extreme railroading AND deus ex machina/Power of Love (at least the latter was retconnet as in not retroactive continuity but retroactive context). That actually put me off the show for some time. I think this moment encapsulates my problems with Hurley's writing pretty well. She really comes off as a Mary Sue written by a self-aware male writer who feels the need to put female characters on a pedestal -- certainly not the most objectionable phenomenon, but still makes my eyes roll. I feel the same about Carey and Killian in The Crystal Kingdom and the recurring remarks about "competent women". (I mean, I understand the gameplay reason for that, it's not that I'm asking for super detailed fights between NPCs, but I didn't like the way it sounded in the story.) Thankfully Carey got some development with Magnus, Killian had a good introduction before that glorification thing started cropping up, and their relationship's good obviously; plus, thankfully, Lucretia is completely free from this (she actually might be my fave NPC in terms of writing).

I think my least favourite part of The Suffering Game is the final past bosses battle? It's not just repetitive -- this repetition, needless in this case, devalues the other instances of our heroes facing the past. The first big one was Noelle (great: surprising, touching, important for the overall plot as we now know), then we had the three robots (I was pretty delighted to see Jenkins and Magic Brian again) even it was more about combat than meaningful facing of past mistakes, then the destruction of Phandolin was seen again in The Eleventh Hour, and only a bit later the setting of the first arc will be revisited once more. So even not counting this scene, it was starting to get a bit navel-gazey, and the complete lack of story relevance of that battle diluted things even more. It kind of sounded like running out of ideas -- I'd prefer any other challenge or just a repeat of the random monster generation. (Btw I totally expected to see the crab from Rockport Limited in that lineup. It's kind of special to me because back I went "Ah a floating crab, yeah feel you boys, I hate fighting Praetorians too, at least this thing doesn't shoot lase--" and then it started shooting fire, lol.)

Back to what I wanted to talk about: I have lots of thoughts/feelings about consequences re: the last episodes. The spoilers I've seen gave me so much anxiety! Like I've read that Magnus loses memory so I completely expected him to lose everything. So I spent a lot of time in complete dread, and when I read "Magnus forgets" in the summary my heart dropped, and then it wasn't that bad at all so I thought "that's it?" and felt relieved until the fucking clone tank. At which point I thought "No, this is it" especially because all of the players interpreted it that way. So I was very surprised and relieved that he kept everything, and that Griffin was so kind to him. But that kinda brought me to another problem -- that the new body undid Magnus's sacrifices. He didn't lose a finger or 10 years of life; the only loss was the identity of his nemesis which a) is a sad thing and he might be happier without it -- I would; and b) the boys promised to take care of that. Meanwhile, Taako and especially Merle have to live with their sacrifices. That's unfair. I was pretty thrilled when I realized the sacrifices were For Real, and was feeling real dread and anxiety about them (can't say if in a wholly good way) and I don't like devaluing that. Though of course I'm pretty jazzed that the character who is at the moment my favourite got treated so well. That scene was cathartic as hell! But back to the sacrifices: I'm intrigued by the problem of balance of hurting the character in a way that's good for narrative and/or game balance (yeah the intent of "let's nerf them a bit" was easy to see) but not compromising them as a piece of writing. I didn't give a shit about max health or dexterity penalties, but the story significant things about losing body parts and especially memories sounded brutal and cruel to me. I actually laughed when during one of the commercial breaks Griffin said something like "I hope this isn't causing you too much anxiety" because I was rushing through this arc because of that anxiety! But in the end, as it often happens, the half-misinterpreted spoilers made everything sound worse than it actually was. And I was very glad and relieved to hear Griffin specifically clarify that he's not going to take away important parts of a character.

But despite what I just said, when I started The Suffering Game arc I was actually amazed because it was second arc in a row built around my personal favorite tropes! I really appreciate Doctor Who-ish journey through genres (that doesn't take itself seriously but also has an epic underlying plot. All my fandoms are the same...) Murder on the Rockport Limited also counts in that category. So if I had to pick a favorite, they'd probably be among the candidates? Well I don't know how to count Reunion Tour for that. I really liked The Eleventh Hour, time travel/time loop stories are like my #1 fave. And it's a closed room mystery too (like Rockport Limited). That was the point where I started listening much faster because I needed to learn the truth. (Also, the Lunar Interlude before that arc, with the three separate stories, was freaking revolutionary and started a new level of character development for the show in general.) But I was kind of disappointed by the lack of a Holmes speech-type explanation of everything in the end. Because a big part of enjoyment was the expectation that it'll all click together beautifully in the end -- and some pieces still didn't fit. I'm still not sure if I missed something or that wasn't explained. Why was Isaak, like our heroes and unlike everyone else in the town, aware of the temporal loops and free to act? What was the interaction between Taako's spell and the code word -- did the spell have any effect other than almost drowning everyone, would "Junebug" have worked by itself? I had some more questions I thing, but right when I was going to pause/think/rest, everything was swept away by the freaking Red Robe Magnus cliffhanger, so I continued to run forward internally screaming "Explain! Explain!" like a Dalek, and then that was joined by the aforementioned Suffering Game anxiety. And that's the story how I marathoned the last part of the show three or more times faster than I planned to.

I really loved listening to TTAZZ, both of them, it was really good meta! I think I started to appreciate the show more after the first one. I can see where the fan criticism re: representation is coming from, but I myself also belong to the category of people who can never visualise their own (or anyone's, really) characters and therefore really love the freedom of interpretation. I'm also a bit sad about the commentary on racism in the new one, which, in addition to the comments about the Taco Quest in the first one, made me pretty sure that storyline/running joke is not coming back. I found it really funny back then in the beginning of the show -- more so because I, myself, have no freaking idea what tacos are actually like. I mean, we might have some mexican food places over here, but I've never been to one. And I intentionally didn't look it up after starting the show because it was funnier and kind of immersive this way lol. But they sound pretty committed to non-committance about the enthnicities, and raising the topic in canon again would force the issue, so I think they're just quietly abandoning it. Story-wise, I'd love to hear something like "Taako had invented a dish and named it after himself, but the voidfish baby ate the recipe so he couldn't recreate it until now" because I'm a sucker for justifying jokes and tying them into the main plot/emotional storyline. But in general I'd prefer any option that offends people the least. I was kind of surprised when Justin talked about abandoning Taako's early "dumb" characterisation, because I hadn't actually thought it was "officially" thrown away. I assumed Taako was just really bad at paying attention, and got better at managing that as a part of organic character development. I actually found that kind of relatable, plus "absent-minded professor/wizard" is a classic trope. Also TTAZZ made me wish even harder for the lost awesome adventure of Magnus and Kravitz in the astral plane. And it was already slightly souring my excitement about the totally awesome & touching scene we got instead.

I didn't really get the exposition about the planes in The Crystal Kingdom, and the long explanation in the latest two episodes require more attention than I gave them. Hope today's episode will make things clearer. Some things I hope to hear explained soon:

Why has Merle died more times than Magnus or Taako?

Also, looking forward to the promised explanation of how Gundren can be Merle's blood relative lol

Why was the Chalice so much more self-aware and civil than the other Relics? Is it related to the fact that its creator has some special connection to the (a?) voidfish?

Was Magnus a wizard before? Being a lich, creating a Grand Relic... If so, why doesn't he have magic now?

If Magnus is a lich, can he one day die and stay in the astral plane with Julia like an ordinary human, like he wanted? If not, that's a pretty big and tragic turn of events for him. (Granted, this might be more of a D&D mechanics question...)

(I actually just found a Reddit thread starting with the same question, discussing whether all 7 are really liches or not, so these two points might not be even valid haha)

(I also saw someone theorize that Lup invented the taco recipe -- and damn I really do want to see that now. Imagine trying to figure out something and later realize that it was created by your dead sister who named that thing after you.)

(I was confused about LichBarry’s reveal because I thought at the end of PTTM he was mind-controlling Captain Captain Bane to poison THB. Someone had the same question and another person answered that Barry’s spell was only to make Captain drink the poison, and the murder attempt was on him. I totally didn’t get that. Between this and my question about “Junebug”, either mind-control spells are not very clearly explained in this show, I suck at understanding them, or both.)

(Shit, this list has transformed from future episodes wishlist into reactions to Reddit lol)

Since I was talking about Taako and Lup, here’s another passing thought: remember how Taako immediately wanted to be Like Them when he saw the lich duo? You know, the elven brother and sister?!

Not related to anything, but I just realized I can wear jeans as a stealth fandom reference and it's delightful :D

[mint-sm]

LOS CAMPESINOS! REVIEW/ANALYSIS: Romance is Boring

Let’s talk about a word for a minute: Tryhard.

In an (at the time of writing at least) mildly recent interview with Noisey on the subject of this album, lead guitarist Tom Campesinos! (Tom Bromley) described “Romance is Boring” as “probably the most self-conscious record, and it's probably the most try-hard record as well,” describing it as a reaction to that whole “twee” and “pop” label they were most popularly recognized with from “Hold on Now, Youngster…”, and even after the release of “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed.”

Like I said on my reviews of both albums, I feel that “Youngster” was an excellent release if only for the sound it ended up with, and not necessarily the band’s initial visions, which would then be addressed and accentuated in “Doomed,” which more clearly defined the groundwork that the band wanted to pursue underneath the indie pop exterior roof formed with “Youngster.” With this album, “Romance is Boring,” they definitely wanted to challenge that idea even further; become more experimental, create much more blaring, aggressive songs in unusual time signatures and beats, with more complex and detailed production alongside Gareth’s self-deprecatingly bitter, but intricate and atmospheric lyricism. In other words, “Romance is Boring” was a self-imposed challenge, and if they wanted to be “try-hard,” they succeeded.

At the same time though, Tom seemed to be somewhat disappointed about what the band would make in the future in comparison to this album, saying “I would never make songs like that again, at the moment I'm not in that frame of mind where I would, so when I listen to them I'm like 'shit I can't believe we made this'.” The sad truth about trying really hard to be as fucking wild and complex-sounding is that it might be something you never wanna try again because you might never, ever reach that adrenaline-fueled mindset you were in to originally craft it again in the future, and as we’ll discuss with “Hello Sadness” next time, reality just might hit you hard enough to stray away from that.

It’s a shame, but as an artist who often gets fatigued of just trying to work on a passion project for years that burns out for a while after releasing a thing, I can sympathize a bit. Creating and experimenting is very tough, and it takes a lot of time, and you will be often be surprised as hell by what you make in the end, but at the same time it can be really straining, only made bearable by sheer passion and emotion (mostly frustration, it sounds like) that, sad to say, can dissipate just like that, and getting it back isn’t something you can just “do.” And “Romance is Boring” is passionate and emotional, and the experimentation clearly did pay off, but was their process something they should be willing to go through again? Well, I don’t know Gareth and the band well-enough to decide for certain, but I’m gonna say… probably not?

CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?

But anyways, let’s talk about “Romance is Boring” itself. Simply put, as you probably might have inferred from other reviews, “Romance is Boring” is my favorite Los Camp record. They put a lot of fucking effort into this album, likely more than with any other record they’ve ever made, and it shows. It contains basically everything I think the band excels at, and even the parts it doesn’t normally do the absolute best in, they do exceptionally well here. Witty, poetic and dense lyrics, blaring, catchy, and diverse instrumentals, wild and conflicting yet consistent moods, and hauntingly vague but vivid imagery following and exploring complex and dissonant themes and narrative, such as the idea of falling in love, disappointing mental anguish, depression, creepiness, selfishness, bitter sarcasm, and regret, among others. It sounds a lot better than the emo shit it just came off as, honest.

The album is much more narratively flowing than “Youngster” or “Doomed,” and as you might expect from the title, it’s about romance, but not necessarily in a completely despondent way as it also might imply. While an overall theme it provides is one of dissatisfaction and heartbreak, once again, Los Camp’s ability to simultaneously yet fluidly meld together multiple diametrically opposed emotions shines through here.

The second track, “There Are Listed Buildings,” is a very good example of this, because the instrumentation is by far the poppiest and free-flowing track on this album, almost “Youngster”-ey in quality, with these cheery “BAH BAH, BAH BAH, BAH BAH BAH, BADDADA” choruses with what I think is a tuba or trombone, and just a wonderfully-sounding electric guitar riff pre-chorus, it all feels so bright and carnival-ly, and honestly, so are the lyrics, which are playful and strangely optimistic for the band. I think it’s about a like a couple deciding to actually pursue a relationship, with lyrics like “I think I'd do it for love, if it were not for the money / I'll take any scraps that you can give,” which is made honestly kinda cute and sweet-sounding in a sepia-tone, sarcastically hipster kinda way.

I REMEMBER BEING NAKED TO MY WAIST, THOUGH NOT IN WHICH DIRECTION 

[YOU ARE A GLUTTON FOR LOVE, CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME ROMANCE? I'M A GLUTTON FOR SIN]

However, the opposing feeling from this song comes from the exact details and the context in which this song ends up in, because other lyrics seem to reflect more of this idea that the girl is actually really a little too desperate because “You dangle fishing line for crabs, but they're not interested /  I'm your only bite,” which kinda reminds me of that XKCD comic discussing that “nice guy” that at first seems sweet and caring for a lonely girl but is actually disturbingly manipulative and creepy as shit (which some people unfortunately seem to unironically agree with). Plus, as was shown by Los Camp songs before and after, Gareth has simply never believed that “true love” exists, and this budding relationship is uh… yeah, it’s kind of doomed to not end well.

It’s made so much clearer with the song right after it, the title track, and I just love it for how utterly SPITEFUL it is. Whether these characters played by Gareth and Aleks are supposed to be the same throughout the entire album, I don’t know, but this relationship has gotten incredibly bitter and sarcastic, the instrumentation is so fucking blaring and distorted and crashy and violent at times, and the chorus features the band absolutely screaming “YOU'RE POUTING IN YOUR SLEEP, I'M WAKING STILL YAWNING, WE'RE PROVING TO EACH OTHER THAT ROMANCE IS BORING,” it’s so gleefully hateful. I don’t think I’ve heard many tracks of a mutually mentally abusive relationship that sounded this damn cathartic.

WE ARE TWO SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 

YOU AND I, WE ARE NOTHING ALIKE 

I AM A PLEASURE CRUISE, YOU ARE GONE OUT TO TRAWL 

RETURN NETS EMPTY, NOTHING AT ALL

Really, I could go on with these tracks all day and pick apart the little intricacies of each song to dissect how great each one is, because this is probably the absolute densest Los Camp has ever gotten instrumentally and lyrically. There’s so many little moments as to what makes every track work so much, and rarely is it just as straightforward as the title track, but even when it is, the production and poetry just feel so incredibly potent, it’s essentially like instead of listening to a song and being gradually surrounded by atmosphere, “Romance is Boring” fucking clocks you with it.

Just getting out of the way, I think maybe the least experimental track on this album is “Straight in at 101,” because instrumentally, structurally, it really does feel the most straightforward, even with little moments with like a sudden blast of distortion at one point or how it immediately goes from feeling bright and upbeat to somber, then complete silence as Gareth sings about how “the talking heads count down the most heart wrenching breakups of all time / imagine the great sense of waste, the indignity the embarrassment when not a single one of that whole century was mine.”  It, and maybe “A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte” are probably the most “standard-sounding,” or like baseline to Los Camp, which doesn’t mean they’re bad, but yknow.

I’d still consider it a very strong track because it’s still very consistent, it’s got a very continuous but evolving groove to it, and the lyrics are still jam-packed with wordplay and description that paint just this really fucking selfish, but also really kinda(?) sympathetic narrator, who makes his utter disappointment with what I’m assuming was a one night stand very clear. Los Camp is a very self-aware band and Gareth’s a very self-deprecating writer, but the way he manages to be both really ugly but astoundingly relatable, and also so mean-spirited to a point where you can’t help but really laugh at how much of a shit he is is kind of admirable.

I THINK WE NEED MORE POST-COITAL AND LESS POST-ROCK

FEELS LIKE THE BUILD-UP TAKES FOREVER, BUT YOU NEVER TOUCH MY COCK 

AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN NOW BY, "WHAT CAN YOU EVEN EAT?" 

AND HOW DOES THAT AFFECT HOW I'LL GET OFF THIS EVENING?

Two of the most unusual tracks that I both love from this album are “Plan A” and “I Warned You: Do Not Make an Enemy of Me” (goddamn that title just makes me so giddy for some reason), with “Plan A” being probably the harshest, off-sounding and most punk-like track Los Camp has ever recorded, with its atonal, distorted mashing chords and screaming call/response vocals (it’s so fn weird hearing Aleks sound panicked and frantic, but goddamn I miss her) before suddenly segueing into like this sing-songy, but still distorted and oddly free-flowing, almost twee-like chorus, and “I Warned You” sounding so stilted and awkwardly tense yet cheery with its weird tempo and beat shifts, almost feeling kinda outsider-music-y at times.

BROKE DOWN LAUGHING AND SCREAMING FOR MORE 

BUT IF THIS CHANGED YOUR LIFE, DID YOU HAVE ONE BEFORE?

Another personal favorite track is the intro, “In Medias Res,” which starts off the album just perfectly, starting with like these gentle, but already kinda already compressed and messy acoustic guitar chords before slowly building up into this like surprisingly reverbed, ethereal and charming instrumental, with a backing that almost sounds like it came from like a shoegaze or dark dream pop track, but with like this really, dreamy and cute duet vocals and glockenspiel. It sounds so oddly saddening yet so weirdly uplifting, especially with that little breakdown near the end with all the distortion effects placed against the glockenspiel, keyboards and brass; I’m pretty sure you can hear at some points Gareth screaming some lines, but it’s so blended-in with the instrumental, but it sounds kinda… beautiful.

And the lyrics, oh god, the lyrics. For some reason, the first and last lines just have so much damn atmosphere loaded into something that just feels so… simple. I can’t explain it without the context, but the very first line, “But let’s talk about you for a minute,” just really gets to me for some reason, probably because within this album itself, it just says so damn much about its themes, that while incredibly toxic and awesomely angry at times, can also get really intimate, melancholy, and depressing, especially with the song’s outro lines:

“IF YOU WERE GIVEN THE OPTION OF DYING PAINLESSLY IN PEACE AT FORTY-FIVE, BUT WITH A LOVER AT YOUR SIDE, AFTER A FULL AND HAPPY LIFE, IS THIS SOMETHING THAT WOULD INTEREST YOU? WOULD THIS INTEREST YOU AT ALL?”

Keep in mind, Gareth believes that true love doesn’t exist.

And in a really cruel reality, despite how playful, giddy and sarcastic or self-deprecating it can be dancing around the topic, Los Camp STILL can’t prove to us that heartbreak, however, isn’t anything but incredibly real. The final 3 tracks on this album (not counting the bonus track, “Too Many Flesh Suppers”) perfectly reflect this mindset.

The fan favorite “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future” is simply put Los Camp’s most beautiful, poignant track they’ve ever made (and also one of the most devastating and emo), and it serves as one hell of an emotional climax for the album. While Los Camp hasn’t really been one for imagery and instead prefers mood most of the time, this track is the perfect marriage of the two; everything about it just seems to paint this incredibly vivid mindset about a depressed, suicidal and utterly broken lover (if it’s the same one from “There Are Listed Buildings,” it’s even more so), who I can just imagine is like sitting on the far end of a dock on a very gloomy beach with gray overcast and an sea, maybe like rocking her legs back and forth sitting on the edge with her feet just touching the salt water as she just stares hopelessly out onto the endless horizon. Y’know, happy stuff.

The lyrics on this track are just some of the most utterly concise and madly specific descriptions Gareth’s ever written, with simultaneously pointless yet (ugh I normally hate this word in this context but) deep and precise lyrics, and Gareth’s vocal delivery just slowly escalates to this heartfelt, like pouring-out-his-soul-in-desperation, perfect climax. Everything about this track just works, and it plunges you into this visceral, atmospheric world of gray skies, salty seas and contemplation, where it really does feel like that the sea is a great place to think of the future… or maybe a lack of one.

SHE SAID ONE DAY TO LEAVE HER, SAND UP TO HER SHOULDERS, WAITING FOR THE TIDE

TO DRAG HER TO THE OCEAN, TO ANOTHER SEA'S SHORE, THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL... 

BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT!?

But like I said, Los Camp likes to dance around these sort of maudlin themes, and immediately after one of the bleakest tracks they’ve made, we suddenly get more cheery, upbeat, and snide in “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” whose first lyrics are literally the band shouting “CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?”, singing another almost-kinda-sorta indie-twee track about a couple stupidly in love, but we all know that it’s all unhealthy and it’s going to end poorly, right? Like, any song about love that has the chorus “The story of the winter I forgot how to speak, my mind was like a nation's flag but my breeze was too weak / How they dragged me to the hospital saying I had gone deaf / But I heard everything they said, it's just I had no interest,” no matter how crowd-pleasing and roucous and glockenspiel-accompanied it sounds, can’t have a story that ends well, right?

Well, considering how the album ends with “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,” a much slower, a lot more ethereal-sounding ballad with the lines “Run the water 'til it scalds, you know that I'm listening / Pitter-patter runs the shower, hits the bare porcelain” and “I fall to my knees, my piss-soaked jeans / The first time, the last time, all the times in between”... it’s probably safe to assume yes, it didn’t. Actually, considering “The Sea is a Good Place” and the chillingly repeated outro of “I CAN’T BELIEVE I CHOSE THE MOUNTAINS EVERY TIME YOU CHOSE THE SEA,”  it probably ended VERY horribly. And… that just fucking sucks, you know?

Goddamn, there’s still so many tracks I didn’t cover, but damnit, if I make this any longer, this is gonna just turn into a track-by-track thesis paper, since there’s just so much to talk about. These are basically the major elements I love the most and find the most worth-addressing, but the thing is that this entire album feels worth addressing, because once again, it’s just so damn packed with just about everything I feel makes an album work in my eyes. There’s not a single track that’s not worth analyzing and appreciating, but christ, there are only so many hours in the day! D:

BY NOW IT'S JUST THE THREE OF US

ME, YOUR SHADOW, YOUR ECHO

“Romance is Boring” is just a fantastic album. It manages to contain all of the things I feel an album needs to be heavily engaging, and the fact that most of them came from a band who normally doesn’t do that great in some of those aspects such as actual concrete description or instantly recognizable context makes this feel all the more surprising and welcoming.

And that’s where it all comes down to: it is just really, really engaging. It’s powerful without being overbearing, it’s noisy while being incredibly and consistently precise, it’s descriptive while being pretty accessible, and it’s varied but also manages to maintain a consistent sound Los Camp have finally pinpointed down as that which can be identified as uniquely their own. It plays up the band’s unique strengths just enough that you never feel alienated or feel forced or anything like that, and not only is it as adventurous as the band might ever get, it’s one hell of a fucking adventure. Hail try-hardiness. (5/5)

...So what happens now?

FAVES: “In Medias Res,” “There Are Listed Buildings,” “Romance is Boring,” “We’ve Got Your Back,” “Plan A,” “Straight in at 101,” “Heart Swells/100-1,” “I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know,” “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future,” “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,”