#the delivery of every one of these lines packed such a punch

[sn33z3s]

in defense of “if you weren’t a fucking asshole”

(what better time to write “meta” than hours before a season premiere. after all, style is dead. or was it that it’s just boring? no, wait, it’s toxic??)

this doesn’t have a thesis, it’s just some leftover thoughts from last year - mostly pertaining The Church Scene, because of course - and featuring some hot stan marsh characterization takes i guess

let’s start with the gay glancing at your ex-childhood best friend

so, this framing is loaded because it's the narrative of their whole thing: kyle chasing stan. stan usually comes to kyle's rescue in absurd (but solvable) situations, whereas kyle often has to fight stan to provide emotional respite. they're thinking of each other here; it's distinct how stan looks back, rather than this shot cutting at kyle. stan's explosive reaction is still pretty presumptuous, but kyle was, even if unintentionally, asking for stan's attention - which is typical

in a sense, this scene is their wordless language; the kind you share with said ex-best friend but it’s gotten worn from overuse, and as a result, you’re both communicatively stunted, so now that you’ve reached out again after 40 years, the first step to any comfort or solace is [the scene above] and a homoerotic spectacle:

well, i don’t need to tell you what that public spectacle is; you already know

stan leads his paranoid outburst in the church by accusing kyle of knowing something which would be impossible for kyle to know; in You’re Getting Old/Assburgers kyle also reaches out to stan, who turns him down, yet still asks that kyle basically read his mind and comfort him

kyle is not a stranger to demanding unrealistic things from stan as well, but kyle calling stan “asshole” packs that punch since contemporarily the fandom usually assumes stan as more emotionally forward or in-touch with himself. however, in the church, kyle is pointing out that stan is clearly repressing his feelings, desires, traumas, etc. and kyle has used a similar approach before:

in my last meta, i wrote about how stan is pretty firm in not instantly accepting kyle's olive branches. of course, the thing is, kyle's olive branches are bent sometimes, let alone how he approaches asking for stan's forgiveness before the broship splits. kyle doesn't apologize: he just expects stan to move on

(also, i love the "divorced couple" coding before we even reach Post-COVID.) anyway, the show clearly acknowledges stan as "agreeing with kyle no matter what," and the first time stan and kyle fight in canon, it’s a big deal

i always return to how i don't see kyle or stan as at fault in most of, if not all, of their fights. this especially applies to YGO & Assburgers since it's one of their most significant “break-up” arcs. still... kyle's "if you weren't a fucking asshole" in the church scene is so satisfying. (and 100% excellent voice acting on matt stone's part; the punchy delivery at the end of that line is what makes me revisit it often.) when i put my tin foil hat on, it does sound like decades of resentment built up. if this post had to have a thesis, it’d be, “here’s why kyle had every right to call stan an asshole in that moment,” but the Stan Can Be an Asshole, Too meta is for another day. after all, my last meta also revolved around the trouble i have with framing stan as an exclusively passive character (rather than predominantly passive) 

by “decades of resentment,” i mean simmering for kyle since, you guessed it, episodes such as You're Getting Old and Assburgers. i talk about YGO & Assburgers a lot, i'm sorry. but i was thinking about the church scene as i browsed the south park wiki on the official site: "Kyle can only deal with so much of Stan's negativity." (obviously, matt and trey themselves do not write or even moderate the Comedy Central studios wiki, so take all of it with a grain of salt.) i like that wording, though, and this other part of the blurb too: "Stan's ego can get in the way of their friendship [referencing Guitar Queer-o]" 

kyle not being able to handle stan’s negativity these days is more often harshly critiqued than anything about stan’s ego. that detail does, in many forms, relate to the stan jock characterization discourse, but that’ll also have to wait for another meta. i can say a couple of things about it to tie up this post, though 

yes, kyle fails to comfort stan in the YGO arc. at the same time, i don't think his positivity is always maligned. after all, the YGO arc isn't stan vs kyle, it's stan and kyle vs. growing up; this is their contemporary theme. and yes, for a kid, kyle can have that emotional maturity

Tegridy Farms and Post-COVID have cemented stan as south park’s protagonist – though, in my opinion, he always has been it, especially since Bigger, Longer, & Uncut – and protagonists are like, the character archetype that receives the most self-projection. yet this emotional angle is comparatively still a fairly new framing of stan’s character. now that this show is narrated in such a way that we see even more of the world of south park through stan’s eyes, fans watching may feel extra inclined to think of him as only ever depressed. but being sad is not all stan does and never has been

not only is this frequency fairly new to his character, i would go so far as to say that there’s a difference between the contemporary stan angst arcs and older episodes like Raisins, YGO, and Assburgers. being sad is not “natural” to stan (whatever that means), it is thrust upon him. most recently, this is randy’s fault. yes, we are meant to - and i hope that most do - sympathize or empathize with stan, but my point here is that he’s a little bit more belligerent and bullish than the fandom currently gives him credit for

[charvimotors]

Discover the Value of Performance: Yamaha MT 15 On Road Price in Mysore

When it comes to motorcycles that offer an irresistible blend of style, performance, and affordability, the Yamaha MT 15 is a name that consistently stands out. For those residing in the vibrant city of Mysore, the allure of this powerful two-wheeler is accompanied by the pressing question: What is the Yamaha MT 15 on road price in Mysore? Let's delve into the world of the Yamaha MT 15 and discover its incredible value in terms of performance and pricing.

The Yamaha MT 15: A Stylish Powerhouse

The Yamaha MT 15 is often described as a streetfighter motorcycle, and for good reason. Its aggressive design, characterized by sharp lines and bold styling, exudes a sense of power and athleticism. The bike features an LED headlight that not only enhances its aesthetics but also ensures excellent visibility on the road. From the muscular fuel tank to the edgy tail section, every element of the MT 15's design showcases Yamaha's commitment to delivering a visually striking and dynamic riding experience.

Performance that Thrills

Under the MT 15's sporty exterior lies a high-revving 155cc liquid-cooled engine that packs a punch. This engine is equipped with Yamaha's VVA (Variable Valve Actuation) technology, which optimizes power delivery across the entire RPM range. The result? A thrilling and responsive ride that's perfect for both city commutes and spirited highway adventures. Whether you're navigating Mysore's bustling streets or carving through winding roads in the outskirts, the Yamaha MT 15 delivers an exhilarating experience.

Discovering the On-Road Price in Mysore

Now, let's get to the heart of the matter: the Yamaha MT 15 on-road price in Mysore. It's essential to consider that the on-road price encompasses not just the base price of the motorcycle but also various additional costs such as registration, insurance, and taxes. While the exact on-road price may vary due to these factors, it's important to visit your nearest Yamaha dealership in Mysore to get an accurate and up-to-date quote.

One of the key advantages of choosing Yamaha is the brand's commitment to providing exceptional value for money. The MT 15 is priced competitively, making it an attractive option for riders seeking a high-performance motorcycle without breaking the bank. Yamaha's reputation for durability and reliability further adds to the overall value proposition, ensuring that your investment in the MT 15 pays off over the long term.

In Conclusion

The Yamaha MT 15 on road price in Mysore is your ticket to owning a stylish and high-performance motorcycle that's perfect for the urban jungle and beyond. With its aggressive design and exhilarating performance, the MT 15 is a bike that turns heads and ignites your passion for riding. To discover the precise on-road price and explore financing options, visit your nearest Yamaha dealership in Mysore. Get ready to unleash the power of the MT 15 on the vibrant roads of Mysore and experience the true value of performance on two wheels.

[existentialmagazine]

Existential Magazine’s August Music Roundup

With the month coming to a close, we’re sharing just a handful of our favourite new releases we’ve discovered this July! Sit back, put on our New Music Friday playlist and spend a few minutes enjoying fresh new tunes hand-picked by us.

Jethro Coups - ‘Hey You’

London based songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer Jethro Coups gracefully leads us into our Roundup for the month, debuting his first ever single ‘Hey You’, a dreamy haze of acoustics, indie and alt-rock stylings blended into one wistfully ethereal cloud. Soaring in with gorgeously bright plucked acoustic guitar strings and a mystical, subtle synth fade, ‘Hey You’ immediately feels enclasped within a warm but tender bedding of sound, like the familiarity of a close friend beside you comforting through your darker moments. This looping acoustic guitar riff weaves its way through the building layers of sound, wrapped between rising synth glows and occasional vibrant pops before the second verse shifts into more instrumental additions. A steady beat pushes things along lightly whilst violin-esque strings join into the mix, later seeing the addition of an emphatic electric guitar riff for the bridge’s intermission. With a sound that’s constantly ebbing and flowing in a way that almost feels alive in its shifting streams, ‘Hey You’ is graced by the clean but emotionally-rich vocals of Jethro atop it all, hauntingly cascading through an agile range that complements the track’s rising and falling sonics. A poignant message only makes this touching track all the more lingering as Jethro tells the story of an personal, semi-lucid conversation had with a loved one at the end of their life, taking inspiration from his own grief. Between lines like ‘I’m still here, you’ve been gone for far too long, I thought you’d disappeared’, it’s impossible not to feel the aching resonance carried all the way through, whilst Jethro also tries to find some peace in continuing to live after those he’s loved have been taken away. Graceful in its sound and message, ‘Hey You’ glimmers out like a hopeful serenade sung to someone in their final moments, stripping them of their fear and giving them visions of serenity whilst in a way allowing the same to those who must live on without them.

Love Ghost & Dan García - ‘Glock’

Collaborating with the Mexican rapper Dan García, the well-known emo and pop-punk blend duo Love Ghost have just released their latest heavy-hitting new single ‘Glock’ that packs a punch - literally. Embracing gritty electric guitar strums and dominant, constantly consuming electronic beats, ‘Glock’ carries a lot of attitude in both its emo-rap vocal flow and vigorous instrumentals. With Dan García offering a raspy hip-hop-esque delivery atop this harsh sound while Love Ghost shift into more hoarse whispers and light screamo, ‘Glock’ is a track you’ll be completely infectiously hooked on through every twist and turn. Lyrically, ‘Glock’ is in one half written in Latin for Dan García’s harder trap segments, and shifts into more of an English emo rap styling for Love Ghost’s second half interruption. Inspired by both artist's love for competitive fighting, the lyricism speaks of unleashing your inner beast and embracing the person you try to keep within a cage, singing ‘the freak inside the cage, succumbs to all his rage.’ Unashamed and carrying a lot of pent-up aggression, ‘Glock’ is here to offer you that outburst we all need every so often, pulling you into it’s controlling soundscape and gripping you tightly with its bloody fists. Garnering similarities to that of MGK and CORPSE’s ‘DAYWALKER!’ amidst other acts like Scarlxrd and Ghostemane, ‘Glock’ is a highly addictive two minute slice of volatile energy, angsty tones and lyrics you can’t help but mouth along to regardless of whether it’s your first listen or your fiftieth.

Live in Color - ‘Yes To Me’

The Swedish pop-rock band Live in Colour have been gracing the music scene since 2018, continually combining emphatic pop hooks with the energy and velocity of rock, and their newest single ‘Yes To Me’ is the perfect introduction to what they have to offer. Fizzling in with a synth-beat pulsation and deep bass twangs, the instrumentals unite for an almost retro disco edge that immediately gets you ready to groove along, appreciating the vibrant energy seeping out the track’s three and a half minutes of euphoric tones. Soon accompanied by drum beats, bright keys and progressively growing synth undertones, ‘Yes To Me’ is an experience that finds itself the longer it plays out, building confidence not just in its instruments but also its message. The chorus explodes into a firework-esque explosion, with each instrumental reaching their dominant peak and shimmering into the most mesmerising entanglement together for a true burst of colour. In its clashing drums, backing vocals, synth pops and keyboard riffs, ‘Yes To Me’ falls into place, all the while their vocalist dances atop the soundscape with the perfect amount of clean charisma and self-assured repertoire. With a poignant message buried within its positive tones, Live in Color sing of choosing yourself even when it’s hard, letting go of someone no longer serving you despite harbouring a deep amount of love for them and moving forward alone for your own growth and benefit: ‘the hardest thing I’ve ever done is saying no to you… the hardest thing that I ever did is saying yes to me.’ Reminiscent of acts like Walk The Moon and Coldplay, Live in Color are here to keep breaking down genre expectations and deliver something utterly unique and completely inspiring, and we’re certain ‘Yes To Me’ achieved that and more.

Katie Belle - ‘Symptoms’

Katie Belle, the talented up-coming pop artist from Georgia, has been taking the music scene by storm since she entered, now bearing her newest edgy hit ‘Symptoms’ that’s utterly mesmerising. Wrapped between looping acoustic guitar strums and a half-clapped, half-thudding beat, ‘Symptoms’ immediately soars with an unrelenting groove you’re completely compelled to dance along with. A synth haze soon flows into the soundscape, adding an atmospheric air to the track’s infectious feel, all before the choruses’ deliciously sweet hooks ring out. As a funky bassline adds a new level of swagger to the song’s attitude while the beats grow more prominent and in-your-face, this dominant interlude really takes the reigns, urging you sing along loud even when you’re still learning the words. Katie’s airy but confident vocal delivery is the cherry on top, with a breathy verse adding allure before the choruses’ more self-assured, sultry lines exert an extra layer of dominance, together intertwining with the sound for a journey you’ll hardly be able to tear yourself away from. Singing of a passionate relationship filled with heat and tension as well as an almost toxic cyclical nature and addiction, ‘Symptoms’ captures that overpowering kind of love you just can’t get enough of, getting withdrawals from being apart. Perhaps knowing better of it, Katie sings ‘one more hit like an addiction’, displaying a knowing that this relationship is one that’s unhealthy and yet continually drawn back in for just one more time. If you’ve found yourself getting similar symptoms, Katie’s new pop-bop anthem ‘Symptoms’ is the perfect slice of infectious sound and memorable lyricism you’ll get a rush out of singing loud and on repeat for days.

Plant Dad - ‘Ophelia’

The newest single ‘Ophelia’ from the glowing indie-pop and dream-pop blender Plant Dad continues his staple resonant sunny feel, complemented by his band Jake Fine on drums, Jack Jahries on bass, Matt Hurd on guitar, and Will Lauzon on pedal steel. Led in with vibrant electric guitar strums and a thudding beat, as well as the most colourful pops of synth that shimmer through the atmospheric sound, ‘Ophelia’ right away feels like floating on a cloud. Settling into just the steady beat and intermittent guitar plucks for the verse, an intimate feel somewhat takes over, slowly building back up with an ever ebbing and flowing sound of delicacy and intricacy. The chorus re-introduces backing synth flourishes while an evolving electric guitar riff dazedly plays out, sung over by the lightly subdued vocals of Plant Dad, a hazy and airy indie and lo-fi laced delivery. Grazing through a dainty higher range and falling back to occasional melancholic lows, the way Plant Dad sings is completely mesmerising, a beautiful serenade that feels directed personally towards you while you listen along. A multi-faceted lyrical meaning makes ‘Ophelia’ all the more powerful, ringing out with what sounds like a typical love song for a typical goody-two shoes character, yet beneath it all Plant Dad truly sings of his own depression from the outside looking in. You’d never anticipate it from the warm sound and mesmerising lyrics, and yet upon a second listen it’s hard to think of anything else through poignant lines like ‘I’m worried about her, I said baby are you all messed up? Now she likes to ignore me when I ask her that.’ As Plant Dad almost tries to understand himself and his quirks, ‘Ophelia’ is perhaps that song we all need to see our beauty through our pain, falling in love with ourselves despite what holds us down. Produced by Sean Mercer and mastered by Mat Lefler-Schulmann, ‘Ophelia’ is a gorgeously easy-going blanket of sound you’ll find yourself comforted to be surrounded by, meticulously formed through the hard work of many.

Chasing Shadows - ‘Emily’

Since their 2016 musical debut, the up-coming quartet known as Chasing Shadows have been gracing the music scene with addictive tracks worthy of being played loud and on repeat, and their newest single ‘Emily’ is no exception. Channelling a broad mix of indie-rock and pop-punk textures, ‘Emily’ soars from the get-go with an infectiously bright but rocky sound perfect for dancing away late summer nights. As vibrant thudding drum beats and emphatic but rough electric guitar strums lead things in, the soundscape of ‘Emily’ is right away completely mesmerising, carving out a sound that’s easy to listen to but stylistically creative. The pre-chorus shifts into a dreamy haze, cascading through a colourful electric guitar riff and a shifted building drum beat, heightening everything for the atmospheric choruses’ peak. Capturing a real sense of nostalgia, the chorus soars through more light electric guitar strums, a continued clashing beat and closes out with a riff you just can’t get enough of. Their vocalist’s slightly raspy, rich tone complements the sound like he was made for it, delivering more casual verse lines before rising into a higher range for the choruses’ gorgeous hooks, offering an indie performance just as delectable as the greats. Deep bass twangs add a new layer of depth to the second verses impact, as the song progressively grows in what it has to offer. Telling a lyrical narrative of falling head over heels for a girl, ‘Emily’ is a sweet revealing of these hidden feelings, knowing that no one else compares: ‘tryna find another small town girl like you… nobody could replace you.’ With all their tracks ladened with contagious guitar riffs, thunderous energy and a constantly bounding tempo, ‘Emily’ is the perfect addition to Chasing Shadows’ growing discography - as well as your playlist.

the ghost tapes - ‘ballad for the twenty something’

The Northern-island based duo the ghost tapes have just two songs within their discography: their debut release ‘barely holding on’ shared last year, and their new offering ‘ballad for the twenty something.’ Taking their time to carefully curate and pen their releases, this new single is one stemming from personal experience and a sound clearly perfected to the tee. Initially led in by acoustic guitar strums and a soft electric guitar riff left to ring out, ‘ballad for the twenty something’ shines as something raw and real when it first commences, stripped-back to place almost the entirety of focus on their vocalist’s delicately sung lines. As he carefully weaves between the intimate sounds and displays an almost pop-punk-esque whine in his emotionally delivered lines, it’s hard not to be mesmerised by every word. Soft backing vocals add a haunting edge to the chorus, laying down a tranquil bedding to rest within, but it’s not long before this perfect image comes crashing down as gritty electric guitar strums and striking drum beats take over the new verse. The song becomes much more dominant and empowered within this shift, and it’s not long before a guitar riff adds an additional emphatic flair to their ever-growing sound. Merging opening soft-rock with clashing alt-rock that only becomes more industrial and fuzzy the longer the track plays out, the ghost tapes are here to not just give you a song to enjoy but an entire whirlwind of a journey to follow through with. Just as poignant as the initially paired-back sound would have you believe, the ghost tapes speak of an equally heavy narrative we could all do with hearing every once in a while, touching on the pressures that come to have your life figured out in your twenties. With lines like ‘compare yourself to everybody’ serving a sense of reassurance you’re not alone in your directionless career changes and relationship searches, this anthem is one everyone needs to be reminded of, as the ghost tapes hope to alleviate some of the pressure you place on yourself to have it all figured out.

Goldthrone - ‘Scale It Down’

The second single ever ‘Scale It Down’ from Australia-based alternative-rockers Goldthrone closes out our Roundup for the month, displaying a ferocious hard-rock edge with alternative-rock angst. Led in by a slow and intimate guitar riff, ‘Scale It Down’ almost feels eerily and unexpectedly soft, but it’s not long before this tranquil intro is cut short and replaced with a heavy wall of sound. Opening with a chorus that bears thundering drums, gritty electric guitar strums and hoarse vocals, ‘Scale It Down’ right-away seeks to set its anthemic tone, pulling you right into its harsh soundscape from the get-go. The verse simmers down slightly, revolving around a looping electric guitar riff and more sombre steady drum beats, allowing their vocalist’s emotional richness to shine through in every raspy word sung. A pre-chorus takes even more of a step back, with haunting vocals over just guitar strums ringing out into the vast open soundscape, infusing moments of delicate personal resonance with a constant explosion of rock-y tenacity. As the track progresses, the soundscape does too, creating not just a song to be listened to but an experience to follow along ever ebb and flow of. Goldthrone have penned a narrative in ‘Scale It Down’ that’s just as meaningful as this ever evolving sound, writing of taking back your own power and accepting that sometimes things don’t always have meaning or reason to have happened. As many often seek to find closure in misfortune, ‘Scale It Down’ is a reminder that sometimes closure can be found within simply by letting go, and seeking answers that don’t exist can sometimes do more damage than good. For an abundance of emphatic rock in soaring riffs, shattering drums and poignant vocals, Goldthrone have got you covered in this smashing new tune.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[chorusfm]

Dead Kennedys – Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables

The legendary record, Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables, by Dead Kennedys has recently been remastered by Chris Lord-Alge, and has officially been re-issued as of last Friday. Given this recent exciting news, I figured I would take a walk back through the band’s debut studio album to see how it sounds through some fresh ears. Lord-Alge shared, ““Revisiting Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables was such an inside peek at a band packing so much excitement onto tape for every song. The style and playing has such drive and spirit. The big challenge for me was keeping it honest to its original sound and not letting it become modern but improving the separation and clarity. A major chapter in history for Dead Kennedys.” With such steadfast dedication to making each and every song come alive again, Dead Kennedys can look back fondly on this reissued set that packs a nice new shiny punch to it. Album opener “Kill The Floor” packs plenty of bounce to it, with the bass lines really pulsating through the new mix. “Forward to Death” highlights the frenetic drumming from original percussionist Bruce Slesinger, and vocalist Jello Biafra’s delivery really shines on this newly mastered recording. Other early standouts like “When Ya Get Drafted” and the hyped-up energy found on “Drug Me” really sparkle on this refreshed mixes. My personal favorite on the front half, “Your Emotions,” showcases this band’s great chemistry with each other on their debut LP, and clicks along perfectly. The band’s arguably most recognizable song, “Holiday in Cambodia,” continues to display its Pink Floyd meets punk rock brilliance in its delivery, and still keeps the spirit of the original recording. Closing out with “Viva Las Vegas” is a blast of pure punk rock fun, and leaves the listener clamoring for more and reaching for the repeat button on the disc. The “2022 Mix” CD features a great, comprehensive 28-page booklet that dives into the history of Dead Kennedys and features exclusive quotes and testimonials from artists like Guns N’ Roses, Bad Religion, Megadeth, Pennywise, among many more sharing what this band means to them. The liner notes will leave fans satisfied with its in-depth dedication to preserving the past while still sharing something new about these punk legends. Long live the Dead Kennedys. --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/reviews/dead-kennedys-fresh-fruit-for-rotting-vegetables/

[onestowatch]

Meet Wet Leg, the UK Breakout Act Wielding Biting Wordplay and Deadpan Delivery

Photo: Hollie Fernando

On a hazy night in their native Isle of Wight, an unassuming island just off the south coast of England, Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers found themselves at the summit of a Ferris wheel. The duo, who had met at Isle of Wight College and became friends ten years prior, were at that very moment drafting the blueprint of what would come to be known as Wet Leg.

“It wasn't until a few years after we met that we started playing together. I played the guitar on some of Rhian's solo work, and she'd play the piano on some of my stuff,” explains Chambers to Under The Radar. “It was great fun, but ultimately we decided we wanted to take a different track, do something that was a little bit more fun, and we also wanted to 'rock out' a bit more.” So, arming themselves with guitars, vibrant imaginations, and a shared love of The Ronettes, Jane Birkin, Ty Segall, and Björk, they set out on a journey to create and record their own music.

The duo released their debut single “Chaise Lounge” in June 2021, and it made a striking first impression with its clever, innuendo-packed lines and detached deadpan delivery. Its driving riffs and percussion propel the track forward, punching a catchy chorus into listeners' faces every now and then. The quirky yet assured song is light and subtly sarcastic and is accompanied by an equally innovative music video that highlights their effortlessly cool, left-field bravado. 

Their follow-up effort, “Wet Dream,” is a punk-leaning number that is as cheeky and creative as its predecessor. According to Teasdale in a Variety interview, the breakup song was inspired by one of her exes. “...it came about when one of my exes went through a stage of texting me after we'd broken up telling me that 'he had a dream about me.'” The track unfurls with a quiet, underlying ferocity brewing just under the surface. 

The video, directed by Teasdale, tells an absurd story involving the duo and their band realizing that they have lobster claws instead of hands as they're about to feast on lobster. It zeroes in on the gross hunger of the men, not only sharing their desperation lyrically but in their salivation over their literal and metaphorical meal.

Wet Leg continued to showcase their sonic range with the split release, “Too Late Now” and “Oh No.” The former is louder and dreamier than anything the band has released to date and explores, as Teasdale told to Brooklyn Vegan, “sleepwalking into adulthood.” “Oh No” on the other hand is a rowdy, iridescent track that encapsulates the kind of anxious energy only experienced during a 3 a.m. doom scroll.

All this serves as the lead-in for the band’s highly-anticipated debut album, Wet Leg, set to release April 8, 2022. 

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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[elizabethemerald]

Fall Anniversary at the Soltryce Academy

Caleb walked into his classroom at the Soltryce Academy with the immediate instinct that something was wrong. He had been teaching Transmutation theory and application in this same class room for the past twenty years, so anything that seemed different set off alarms in his head. 

He mentally checked the wards on the class room and found them intact. There were a few students in their seats, a few more filtering into the lecture hall, by the second. None of them seemed alarmed. Whatever was different today did not appear to be an immediate threat. 

Still just to be safe he subtly cast Detect Magic as he set his bag down and took off his coat. Immediately a few points were highlighted in his mind. Of course his own magical items, the amber around his neck and the amulet beside it, the ring on his finger, the chalk he had enchanted to help him lecture. Nothing off there. 

There were a few points of magic around the rest of the room, each quickly analyzed and dismissed. Transmutation magic on a small pile of coins near the wall, a low level student’s practice project. Abjuration magic in the wards along the walls. Divination magic in a button, another spying device Astrid had tried to sneak into his class room to keep him from teaching against the school’s policies. 

It was the illusion spells that caught his attention. A few of the students were covered in the same, linked illusion. Their appearance normal enough to blend in, but also entirely too normal for a real student. And there, a student he didn’t recognize even with his keen mind, covered in an illusion spell. Several other magical objects of varying power, hidden under the spell. The Vestige appeared to be within its pocket dimension, so at least they hadn’t brought a weapon onto campus. 

After setting down his things and greeting his class he squeezed past a few of the students to grab Astrid’s enchanted button. He quickly dispelled it and slipped it into an envelope to return to her later. As he returned to the front he gave the cat sitting on his desk a brief scratch. 

“Hello Jester.” He said. Of course he didn’t need Detect Magic telling him of the cat’s aura of Transmutation to know his friend. She was bright blue after all and staring at him far more smugly than even a magic fey cat would. 

“Now class, I know we were discussing transmutation principles as applied to effecting the elements around you, but I am afraid that lesson will have to be postponed. It would seem that it is the anniversary of the Mighty Nein getting together and they have decided to invite themselves to my class.”

There was a muttering around the class room as the students looked at each other, before one of them near the front stood up, the illusion dropping off her form as she did so. 

“I told you he wouldn’t fall for it!” Veth said in her high voice, She looked mostly unchanged from when they first brought her back to her proper body. A few more laugh lines, but nothing more to show the passing two decades. “Lebby, is an amazing wizard, he wouldn’t fall for something simple like that. You students better appreciate the skill of your teacher.”

Caleb smiled fondly as Veth walked up to the front to give him a hug. Interspersed through the seats a few more illusion spells dropped. A half elven man walked up from the front row and kissed him on the cheek. Essek’s own illusion lasting even as he dismissed the Seeming on Kingsley and Yasha. 

“How did they rope you into this?” Caleb whispered to Essek. 

“Oh you know I can’t resist a practical joke.” Essek maintained his deadpan delivery for only a few seconds before a small smile graced his lips. Caleb knew quite well that Essek looked as ageless as ever, under his illusion. His elven blood would keep him looking much the same for the next few centuries. Caleb returned the kiss, to the muttering of his students. They weren’t ever a 100% sure who Caleb’s rotating cast of elven boyfriends were, and Caleb was more than happy to keep them in the dark. 

“Well you can’t fault us for trying!” Kingsley said. They were wearing a scandalously low cut shirt, a pair of plain black pants, and a pair of thigh high boots. His purple hair was fading to a less vibrant shade just a bit near his ears and he had a larger collection of scars, as one would expect from years of piracy and being a bloodhunter. They were also wearing their sword much to Caleb’s disapproval, which was apparently not magical. 

“You can’t expect me to hide this glorious look without magic though can you?” He said, sliding his hands down to his hips then back up his torso. Then he grabbed Caleb’s chin and kissed him full on the mouth, with tongue for several seconds, while his students lost their collective minds. Caleb smiled against Kingsley’s lips right before the tiefling stepped back. He was sure the rumor mill of the school would go wild about that for a few weeks. He wished he could see the look on Master Beck’s face when the news came across her desk. “Here’s to another twenty years, magic man.”

Yasha and Caduceus walked up next, each giving Caleb a tight hug. These two showed their age the least of the non elven members of the Nine. Cad could have been just stepping out of the temple doors in the Blooming Grove, saying that he had only three cups, if it weren’t for the increased presence of lichens and mosses of all kinds on his clothes and armor. Caleb was fairly certain there was an actual bird’s nest in his pink hair. Yasha of course looked as badass and muscular as she had when they first found her. Her hair was completely white, done up in an ornate braid. Home life seemed to suit her well, she looked genuinely happy and relaxed like she certainly hadn’t when they had first gotten together. 

Fjord’s spell dropped as well. The half orc’s hair had large stripes of gray in it, he had crows feet at the corners of his eyes, and his salt and pepper beard had significantly more salt to it now. He still looked good, life at sea, despite its hardships, keeping him fit. He laughed at something over Caleb’s shoulder as he approached and he found himself lifted bodily into the air by a pair of muscular blue arms. 

Jester having dropped her polymorph spun him around briefly in the hug before setting him back on his feet. She would never fail to look divine. Her horns now curling in on themselves, almost like her mother’s had when they first met her. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, poofing out behind her head from the salt air. Her sailing days were certainly not hurting her in anyway. Her smile was still just as wide, her eyes just as sharp, and her arms just as strong, if not more so. 

“Happy anniversary Caleb! Twenty years ago you were a stinky wizard. Now you are here teaching!” Jester’s happiness in her voice carried to every corner of the lecture hall. 

“What happened to our plan of drinks in Nicodranas this evening?”

“I just couldn’t wait Cay-leb.” She pouted. “Fjord and I got into port early, and I was so bored.”

Caleb smiled at her, then looked around at the rest of the Nein, pretending to count. 

“We appear to be one short. Where is my sister? Couldn’t drag her away from the Cobalt training pit? Or did she get lost in a book like some kind of nerd?” Caleb said with a smirk.

“Mother fucker!” 

He looked up towards the voice above him, just in time to watch Beauregard drop from the ceiling, to land on his desk with a perfect three point landing. She hopped off the desk and punched his arm, before also grabbing him in a tight hug. 

“I am not a nerd, Widogast!” She snapped, a wide grin on her face. 

“Beauregard, please do not land on my desk. It was a gift and I don’t think it could bare too many impacts like that.” He stopped to look up at the vaulted ceilings of the class room. “Also, how did you get up there?”

If she had been invisible she would have tripped the wards on the class room. And if she had gone in the brief break between classes one of the early students would have noticed her and caused a stir. 

Beau took her turn to smirk. 

“I have been waiting up there for four hours so we could surprise you. It’s surprisingly comfortable. I could have gone another couple of hours without breaking a sweat.” She paused to flex, causing several students, and Yasha to blush at her muscles. 

Beauregard’s monk training meant that she looked like she hadn’t aged a day since Aeor. And she could still easily out fight everyone else in the room if she wanted to. She was also the one member of the Nein that Caleb saw the most frequently. Their work to root out corruption among the Cerberus Assembly, and other bodies of power in the Empire often kept them up together late into the night, until Yasha would intervene and throw her wife over her shoulder to carry her to bed. 

“Can I finish the lesson, or should we depart immediately?” Caleb asked, already guessing the answer. 

“Cayyyllleeeb.” Jester groaned, pulling at her face. “I’m sooooo bored. I want to drink and party already!”

Caleb turned back to his class of students. He was sure most of them had heard rumors about Professor Widogast and the wild adventures he got up to with the Mighty Nein back when they first got together. He wasn’t sure how much they actually believed, but he was sure that even the most widely blown out of proportion tale didn’t even begin to cover the truth of what they had done together. 

“In honor of the anniversary of this group of arschlochs finding each other, consider this to be a free day. Keep up on your readings, and if you have any questions I will be at my regular office hours tomorrow morning.” 

The students immediately started buzzing as they stood and packed. No doubt during tomorrow’s class he would have to field a whole host of questions about the Nein, and that was just the way he liked it. The day after the anniversary was the one day he would talk about what his family had done. As the class filtered out, with many a lingering glance thrown at the colorful group at the front, Caleb turned to Essek, setting the envelope with Astrid’s button in it on the table top to deal with later. 

“Would you like to teleport us to the beach, or shall I?”

Essek put up both hands. 

“I already used my spell slots getting us all back together again. You can bring us to the coast.” Essek said, his smile a mix between smug and fond. 

Caleb rolled his eyes before pulling him into a soft kiss. Then he turned to address the rest of the Nein. The family he had made for himself. 

“Are we ready?” After a series of nods, he pulled an ancient clay turtle from his pocket and gave it a squeeze. “Then let’s go!”

And they were off, to a night of drinks and celebration and stories told, and memories shared. And of course many toasts, “To another twenty years.”

[pretchatta]

prompt: holiday

dave said it's my turn to write a moons of rion fic

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 2.4k words

---

The Outer Rim planet of Rion was a tropical paradise. Beaches, bars and breathtaking views covered its surface, and the sight of the planet in the forward viewport made Kanan sigh with longing. So close, and yet so far.

It felt like he and Hera had been working non-stop for the past year. Between keeping the Ghost in fuel, the galley stocked, and working other (less well-paid, but Hera would argue more important) jobs, Kanan would like nothing more than to spend a few hours relaxing somewhere – anywhere – with Hera. They were something now; more than simply captain and crew, but exactly what that was Kanan hadn’t had time to find out.

He wouldn’t any time soon, either. This mission wasn’t even taking them to Rion itself, but to one of its moons. A quick pickup and then they’d fly straight back to Lothal to deliver it, get paid, and then move onto the next job.

Kanan sighed. “Remind me what the cargo is for this one?”

“I don’t know,” Hera replied absently as she steered the Ghost in an orbital path around Rion. Their destination appeared from behind the planet, the oceanic moon a deep blue colour dotted with small green-and-white islands. Just beyond it, its populated twin was also visible. “Vizago paid extra for discretion, but he didn’t offer me the dangerous goods fee, so I assume it’s at least safe.”

Kanan grimaced. “We’re relying on the integrity of a smuggler. I feel so reassured.”

“We need the credits, love. We’ve barely got enough fuel to make this delivery.” Hera gave the fuel gauge a worried look as the Ghost entered the moon’s atmosphere and they began their descent. Below them, taking up most of one of the smaller islands, Kanan could see a landing platform growing larger.

Hera touched the Ghost down with barely a bump. Had Kanan not realised months ago that his days of drifting were behind him, he knew he would find it very difficult to return to his old lifestyle. There were several comforts that came from crewing on the Ghost, the smooth landings being just one.

“Alright, let’s load up and get going.” Hera hit the ramp controls and led the way out of the cockpit.

Spaceport was a generous term for what greeted them outside. The battered landing platform was barely large enough for two ships, even though it took up most of the solid ground on the island, and the only permanent structure was a dilapidated single-storey hut. It looked like it was cobbled together from scrap, with the exception of the shiny solar panels stretched over the roof and the comm dish mounted haphazardly on one wall.

There were no windows, but the front door stuttered open as Kanan and Hera emerged from the Ghost. An ancient-looking prototype droid emerged, hobbling out towards them with slow, fitful steps.

“Welcome to landing site R-M2-S04,” it called out to them. Its mechanical voice was decidedly tinny. “I am C0-R4, the overseer droid for this location. Thank you for leaving your transponder on. Your ship has been identified as the Ghost.”

Droid-supervised transactions weren’t uncommon in their line of work. The handoffs were usually in remote locations like this one, and it was much cheaper to leave a droid to wait around than an organic being.

“We’re here to pick up Vizago’s shipment,” Hera told the droid.

“That is correct.” C0-R4 gave a jerky nod. “Your cargo will arrive in two days.”

“What?” Hera exclaimed. “Two days! We were told to come today, and that this job was time-critical!”

“Cikatro Vizago apologises for the unavoidable delay, but he understands that you have a fast ship.”

Hera glared at the droid, though Kanan knew her ire was in fact directed at their unreliable employer. “And what exactly are we supposed to do for the next two days?”

“I am not programmed for leisure itinerary planning,” it replied in its monotone. “I will be in low power mode until the shipment arrives. Good day.”

With that, the protocol droid turned and hobbled back into its hut. Hera stared after it in disbelief. Kanan, meanwhile, felt hope blooming in his chest.

“I know you’d rather get on with the job,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral, “but given our fuel situation, it looks like we’re staying in this system for the next two days. And since Rion’s right there…”

She turned to him with one eyebrow raised. His face must have shown more than he realised, because her eyes softened with sympathy.

“Kanan, I’d love to spend a few days on Rion with you, but we don’t have enough fuel to get there,” she said apologetically. “We barely have enough to take off and make it back to Lothal.”

Kanan was not deterred. “Okay, what about the Phantom? It has a separate fuel tank – we could take it to one of the resorts, stay for a few days and be back in time for the pickup.”

Hera shook her head. “I should probably siphon the Phantom’s fuel into the Ghost. We’re going to need it if we want the extra speed to make Vizago’s deadline.”

Kanan sighed. The captain's decision was final. “Fine. I guess we’re sitting here for two days eating stale rations. Hopefully the Ghost’s water purifier can handle the seawater.”

“Wait, rations? Don’t we have enough food?”

“We might have a couple dehydrated meal packs, but I was going to stock up when we got back to Lothal.”

Hera frowned. “I guess this is going to be a long two days.”

“It doesn’t have to be…” Kanan’s mind was racing as a new idea formed in his head. “Could you leave just enough fuel in the Phantom to make one trip to the other moon? It’s populated, and it’ll take less fuel to take off from because of the lower gravity. And right now it’s closer than Rion itself. I still have a few credits – not enough for fuel, but we could pick up some supplies, and then spend the next two days just relaxing here. It’s not exactly a luxury resort getaway, but it’s better than nothing.”

Hera looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, Hera, we’ll still be able to make the delivery,” he pleaded. “And this way we can enjoy a few days of downtime! We’ve got nothing else to do, and it’s not like we’re going to get any trouble from the Empire out here.”

He could see her resolve wavering, and then–

“Okay, fine.”

Kanan resisted the urge to punch the air as she turned to walk back up the Ghost’s ramp.

“Chopper,” she called up to the cockpit, “work out the best course to the other moon, and be nice to the navicomputer this time! Then I want you to initiate a fuel transfer from the Phantom to the Ghost. Leave enough to make the trip to the other moon, Kanan and I will be going on a supply run when we get back.”

The old astromech blatted a question back at her from somewhere above them. Hera looked back at Kanan.

“We’re going for a walk,” she replied. “You’d hate it, you’d just get sand in your joints.”

Chopper made a rude noise, which Hera ignored.

“A romantic stroll along the beach, huh?” Kanan said, putting an arm around her waist.

“If we’re doing this, I should at least try to relax, and it seems like a good start.” Her arms snaked over his shoulders and around his neck, allowing him to pull her closer. Their noses brushed, lips an inch apart, but Kanan turned his head at the last moment to kiss her cheek instead.

“In that case…” he murmured against her earcone, and then dropped to his knees in front of her and gently lifted one of her knees. Hera complied, allowing him to raise her foot and slip her boot off it.

“You’re overdressed,” he continued. “Unlike Chopper, we can enjoy the feeling of sand between our toes.”

He finished removing her other boot, and looked up to see her smiling fondly down at him. He quickly shed his own boots, leaving both pairs just inside the cargo hold, and as an afterthought added his gloves. Hera did the same, allowing Kanan to take her bare hand and lead them back outside.

The beach was only a few steps away, and they strolled leisurely over the sun-warmed sand towards the brilliant blue water. Above, the odd fluffy white cloud floated in the teal-blue sky as the late afternoon sun shone down on the island. A faint breeze blew in from the sea, cooling the air and bringing with it the smell of salt.

Kanan ran his thumb over the back of Hera’s hand as a sense of calmness washed through him. Hera was right; the walk was a great idea. The sand was soft under his feet and with every step he could feel his body relaxing.

They stopped at the water’s edge, letting the waves lap at their toes. The water wasn’t exactly warm, but neither was it cold. They stood there for a few moments in comfortable silence, enjoying the tranquility.

Hera bumped her shoulder against Kanan’s. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I would have let myself have a break if I’d been on my own, but… I needed this.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You were right, dear.”

He smirked, and then leaned down to kiss her. She rose onto her toes to meet him. As with every time their lips met, Kanan felt a jolt of electricity through his stomach; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to kissing Hera Syndulla.

They resumed their walk, following the coastline. Doing a full circuit of the island wouldn’t take long. As far as Kanan could tell, there was no wildlife on this moon, but the lapping of the waves and the slide of their feet over the sand made for a perfect soundtrack.

“So, do you have anything in particular you want to pick up on this supply run?” Hera asked him.

“I thought we could get some fancy caf,” he replied, “y’know, since we're on holiday. And then something simple to eat that we could have on the beach.”

“That sounds good to me.”

He turned to give her a look. “We may be on a budget, but I like to eat out.”

She only managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before laughing.

They were distracted from further conversation by a wide rock formation on the far side of the landing platform. Several meters tall at its highest point, it looked like it was made up of numerous pillars of dark stone, jutting upwards out of the ground and ending in flat, irregular shapes. The lower ones around the edge held small pools of water from the last high tide, but they were taller towards the middle and beyond a certain point the tops were smooth and dry. The beach continued around the edge, the sand stretching between the rocks and the sea, but the Ghost and the overseer droid’s hut were hidden from view.

They approached the rocks with interest. Kanan was only half-aware of Hera’s hand slipping out of his as he went to examine one of the rockpools and so didn't notice the mischievous look that had come over her face. By the time he realised she was no longer beside him, she had already removed the outer layer of her flight suit and folded neatly atop one of the dry pillars. He could only watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as she quickly and methodically worked on the rest of her clothing.

Hera carefully added her cap and goggles to the pile she had formed and then looked up at him. His heart beat faster at the sight of so much bare green skin. With a coy smile, she held his gaze as she slipped her underwear off and let it join the rest of her clothes.

“Fancy a swim?”

She didn’t wait for an answer; Kanan wasn’t sure he was capable of giving one. She turned and ran over the beach, lekku streaming behind her, splashing into the water until it was up to her neck.

She turned back to him and yelled “Well? Are you coming?”

It was enough to jolt him out of his shock. He’d left his armour behind today, so his shirt came off easily. The rest of his clothes followed in a somewhat messier pile than Hera’s, but creases weren’t on the forefront of his mind at that moment.

Kanan took off at a sprint towards the sea. When he was about halfway to the water he leapt, giving himself an extra push that made it higher and further than a leap any ordinary human should have been able to make. Tucking his knees into his chest in mid-air, he hit the surface with a splash, sending a wall of water over Hera. The cool water enveloped his body with swirls of white and blue. He kicked at the sandy sea bed to surface next to Hera, who was sputtering in protest.

Kanan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“You did invite me in,” he reminded her. His sodden hair was slicked back against his head and water dripped from the end of his nose. Further droplets ran over Hera's bare head and down her lekku, adding to the patterns already there.

“I didn’t ask for a tsu–”

He cut off her complaints with a wet kiss. She relaxed in his arms a second later, though he knew he had’t gotten away with it; she’d be planning her payback for later. He smiled against her lips and felt her mouth curve upwards in response. It really had been too long since they’d been able to just let go like this, to enjoy their time together and not have any pressing worries or responsibilities.

The kiss deepened, and Hera’s legs wound around his waist. Whoever's idea this had been, he thought to himself, it was definitely a good one.

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Hey it's 🐣 anon from the matchup. I've been feeling down recently cause things aren't home are not going daijobou (lame attempt on joking im so sorry). Can i request HC for Ushijima, Oikawa, Noya and Kuroo with an s/o who suddenly becomes really silent and distant when usually their loud and affectionate? And if they try to be affection to their s/o they just push the boys away. If this is making you uncomfortable you can ignore this. Thank you in advance never the less 💞

Hello little chick!! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant for it to be an emergency request but I wanted to take a little bit of time to do it and think about the appropriate reactions to things like this because they can be signs of mental health problems and I wanted it to be addressed in a way where the boys all care and want the best. If you ever ever ever ever want to talk about anything my messages are open! I am great for talking about serious things and also nothing at all so if you need a person to talk or distract you I am only a few buttons away lovey!! Please do not be afraid!

Shut out 

Words: 1.9k 

Characters: Ushijima, Oikawa, Nishinoya, Kuroo

Summary: You go from loud and bubbly to quiet and distant around your boyfriend 

Ushijima 

Ushi knows you like the back of his hand, he knows exactly how you sound when you are happy, when you are sad when you secretly want french fries but keeps telling him I don’t know when he asks where you want to eat, he knows everything about you so when you started slowly answering his questions in different ways he knew that something was up, he could tell that you were stressed and unhappy and he didn’t know what to do 

He gets really nervous around sensitive subjects like that because he doesn’t want to make you upset but he needs to do something so he does a lot of research to try and know how to help you best, he figures out that you just need some extra love and attention so one day he skips volleyball and just pulls you onto the couch for extra love and cuddles with no explanation as to why, you try and pull away from him and he just tells you no and when you try and argue with him he gives you a very specific raised eyebrow look that says it all, he knows that you need this affection and deep down you know it too so you cuddle with him and you can feel your heartbeat slow down and yourself relax in his arms 

The next couple of days he packs you lunches and walks you to and from school and to each of your classes, squeezing your hand a little bit harder every time

His extra affection helps perk you up some but not enough so after a few days Ushijima sits you down and makes you talk through everything if you want him to talk back he will, or if you just want someone to listen he is happy to hear it all and just let you talk at him

You end up getting emotional and starting to cry and he just holds you to his chest and tells you that he loves you and that it’s okay to feel this way and that it is normal and he just wants you to remember and know that you are loved 

He is really sweet the next day and brings you a little goody bag and lets you wear one of his sweatshirts, he knows how emotionally exhausting it can be to have to talk about things like that but he also knows that you need to talk to someone and if you shut him out then it’s only going to make problems worse and so him making you talk to him was super helpful and lifted a big weight off of your shoulders

Ushijima will never give up on you and he knows that bad times happen and he is going to be there to get through it with you 

Oikawa 

Oikawa Tooru is the king of anxiety, he doesn't like to tell people but he really does worry a lot behind closed doors so when you slowly start getting quiet on him he knows what is happening and at first worries that you are shutting him out because of something he did but then you still walk near him but you don’t touch him, he was confused and sad and angry and he wanted his s/o back like no one’s business, you were his love and he hated seeing you like this 

Oikawa stayed near you for several days silently wondering why you wouldn’t hug him and if he messed up or if you didn’t like him anymore and if you were going to break up with him, he felt like he was walking on eggshells at all times because he had no idea what was happening and he wanted you to be as happy and chipper as you were a few days ago 

You still walked to and from school with him, you just didn’t have any energy to talk to him and you didn’t seem to acknowledge his cheery good mornings or really even him at all

Oikawa worried and stressed about it so much that even when he wasn’t with you he was thinking and worrying about you and wondering how he could help or if he  could help

One day walking home from school he decided he was done waiting for you to come around and stopped  you outside of the school and made you tell him what was wrong, he ended up getting emotional and breaking into tears because he loved you and he didn’t want to stop loving you but this was really emotional and he wants to see you happy more than anything else and he told you that if you had to leave him to be happy than so be it because he can’t be selfish and take you like that 

You stood there in complete shock as Oikawa poured his heart out to you and you had no idea, you had been so caught up in your own head and in your life things that you hadn’t thought about how this was hurting him or how he was thinking that it was over between the two of you, that was the last thing you wanted and you had to figure out how to vocalize it to him, you had been going through a rough time and looking back at it you realized that you had shut him out and now your relationship was on the line 

You had no idea what to do so you just ran into him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you began to cry, you had been bottling up emotions for so long and hadn’t been able to get out of your own head and knowing that you hurt Tooru in the process hurt you, even more, he stood there in shock for a few moments before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you close to him as he began to tear up 

After a few minutes of crying together, Oikawa took you back to your apartment and asked you sweetly if he could come in and when you nodded he pulled you inside and sat you on the couch with a glass of hot tea, some cookies, and a blanket as he tucked you onto the couch before planting a kiss on your forehead before going to sit on the couch across from you and turning on a show 

You aren’t expected to say or do anything because he knows in times like these you just need love and compassion because he gets this way after losing big games and with some time you will perk back up to your regular self and things will be okay, but until then he is going to take care of you and make sure you feel his love at all times 

Nishinoya 

Noya notices instantly that something is different with you and he wants to know what it is right way like he went in for his morning hug and you didn’t let him even though those always make you 

smile, yeah you are not getting away with that one 

He asks you several times throughout the day if you were okay and you were just quiet and didn’t really answer his question and he couldn’t help but worry about you and wonder what was happening, the day came and went and he was thinking about you all throughout the practice of ways he can try and make you talk to him so he came up with the perfect idea nd decided he was going o prank call your phone over and over with a crappy pizza delivery punch line with *67 so you couldn’t block him but he could call over and over again through practice making you annoyed, but it was always with a purpose, you loved crappy prank clals and he was going ot annoy you to death and then show up at your door with pizza and get you to tell him about the annoying prank caller and then talk to him, well the whole plan was foiled when the third time he called he forgot to hit *67 and ended up ringing with his name and you stopped him half way through his speal about it asking why he was doing this 

Noya was dead silent for the first time in his life, he just then finally cracked and told you that he wanted to make you smile and was literally on his way with pizza nad you seemed sad today and very quiet and distant but he wanted you to be sure that he loves you and that you would get your smile back 

Kuroo 

Kuroo wastes no time pulling you into an empty classroom and asking you what was wrong when you pulled away from him trying to hold your hand this morning, it was something that you two did every morning for at least a few minutes before he kissed the back of your hand, called you a princess and walked you to class

He pulled you into the room and immediately asked you what was happening and what was wrong and did not take anything as an answer, he knew you better than this and anything that was bothering you was now bothering him and he was not going to stand for you not talking through your feelings because that’s bad for you and he really does care for you 

He understands if you don’t want to talk before class but he is going to stick by your side and make sure that no one says anything to you that could upset or hurt your feelings because he doesn’t know what’s going on so for the day you have Kuroo the bodyguard (not that he isn’t usually but today he is extra cautious) and he takes extra care to carry your bag for you to try and relieve any of the stressors from your life today 

After school, he takes you to a little coffee shop and makes you sit and talk to him and you don’t want to he starts spouting lots of knowledge from science on how it is bad for you and that he wants to at least know that you are okay and if there is anything that he can help you with like he says it all in a way where you know you are welcome to talk and say anything but he is not going to force it, only encourage it 

If you finally do start talking and get emotional he takes you out of the little cafe quickly and brings you somewhere to help you relax and calm down as he reassures you that you are loved and that this is only temporary and no matter how bad it sucks there is light at the end of the tunnel and you are not alone, he is right there willing to put up just as much of a fight as you are 

He is going to take extra care of you the next few days as you start opening up to him more and being less quiet, he lets you take your time with things and is really understanding about it all and wants you to be okay, so when you pull him into a hug unexpectedly one day he just kisses the top of your head and rubs your back

[campgender]

Multiples of 5!

hell yeah 5 is my favorite number!

5) A song that needs to be played LOUD

to the dogs or whoever by josh ritter, especially this live version when i’m feeling the maximum need to shout it. i want desperately to see him in concert someday

RUNNING HER HANDS THROUGH THE RIBS OF THE DARK FLORENCE & CALAMITY & JOAN OF ARC!!!!!

it’s a kinda unconventional song to feel this way about & i don’t necessarily think this was even his intention but i literally think this is one of the most romantic songs of all time. “jane shot the apple right between the eye; i was thinking of her when you came outside” pops into my head on a regular basis, his delivery in particular packs such a punch of awe that’s definitely how i feel. like, holy shit she’s on par with these spectacular & badass women of myth

and of course the line “can you love me like the crosses love the nape of the neck?” Gets Me

10) A song that makes you sad

prayed for rain by paul cauthen - it’s actually a really uplifting song in & through the substantial melancholy, but the line “it flooded when you prayed for rain” always gets me choked up

15) A song that is a cover by another artist

this was a hard one because i actually listen to a ton of covers, so i’m gonna go with two because i can’t not include the version of tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton with how often i’ve been listening to it lately, but my favorite cover of all time is always gonna be callin’ baton rouge by garth brooks - i love many a song by the oak ridge boys but in this case the original cannot hold a candle to the cover. garth’s version adds so much desperate urgency to the delivery, which is both gorgeous and necessary because it’s a lay-it-all-out-there, throw-shame-out-the-window kind of song!! the only part i prefer in the original is that the lyric is “stopping every twenty miles” rather than hundred, because again it’s the song for the heights of all-consuming infatuation

20) A song that has many meanings to you

elle me dit by MIKA - sometimes it’s just been a fun pop song, sometimes it channels my own existential crisis, and sometimes like with this version it moves me to tears

25) A song by an artist no longer living

jesus was a crossmaker by judy sill

absolutely obsessed with the instrumental backing during the chorus, and obviously the lyricism is just unparalleled

30) A song that reminds you of yourself

living in another world by neon trees

this song is on my playlist from when i started hrt - they’ve been telling me to come of age, i’ve been going through an awkward phase

[discotreque]

LwD 1.08, “Veritas”

aka GIANT SPOCK IS CANON, or: “Today didn’t have to end in eels!”

Line-for-line, this might have been the funniest episode yet. It moved even faster than “Terminal Provocations” but felt like it had twice as many jokes packed in, and holy fuck were those jokes landing for me.

(Obligatory gorgeous planet shot. It’s a little anachronistic to me to see that font used for a location chyron—those weren’t really a mainstream thing on TV before The X-Files, and while I remember them on VOY and maybe even DS9, I think TNG was too early for them—so we’ve never actually seen it used like this before!)

Anyway, I loved the way this one switched up the usual LwD format of “sitcom A-plot + sitcom B-plot + entire A-plot of a TNG episode C-plot”—though I was slightly disappointed at first that it wasn’t the Rashomon-style story I thought it was shaping up to be, I didn’t really have time to dwell on that because then we were off to the RACES.

Seriously, the jokes in this one:

The execution of the bit with the Red Alert happening everywhere except their repair bay? With the almost-subconscious setup of the klaxon quietly fading in and back out of the background SFX as the doors whoosh open and closed? While you’re still supposed to be paying attention to Mariner and Boimler arguing in the foreground? And then Jack Quaid’s delivery of Boimler’s exasperated “Rutherford!”? That whole scene was just *chef’s kiss*

Mariner doesn’t want to get kicked out of Starfleet because then she’d have to live on Earth, “where there’s nothing to do except drink wine and hang out at vineyards and soul food restaurants.” If she doesn’t want to, I will definitely take her spot.

SAMANTHAN RUTHERFORD. Still not over it.

His “rebooting” into increasingly bizarre situations with absolutely no context (“Updating Klingon fonts!” “Why do I even need tha—” *thud*) reminded me a little of the Futurama episode “Time Keeps on Slipping,” and I always like being reminded of that episode.

GORN WEDDING! (Some really fetching dresses in that scene, tbh #notascalie)

Ransom mistaking Tendi for a special-ops “cleaner” (when she was just there to sticky-roll Dr. T’Ana’s fur off the chairs, another screaming-into-my-hands moment) was comedy gold-pressed latinum. Also, I’ve decided she has no martial arts training, she’s just that good under pressure and that afraid of failure (and, obviously, still in good shape from the Academy).

Okay so my personal tastes re: bleeping regular swear words in normal dialogue are that it’s sometimes funny, sometimes just distracting—I’m getting used to it on this show, though—but that’s different from using super accurate, ultra nostalgic LCARS beeps to “censor” classified information—hilariously poorly—which is a classic trope that gets me every time. Ransom’s final “There’s no indication that the Rom... (beat) ... (bleep!) ... (beat) ...ulan High Council detected us” had me scream-laughing into my hands.

“You know who I hate? Remans.” “Oh, they’re the worrrst.”

I was expecting a whole episode about Q, but this was about the perfect amount of him w/r/t Lower Decks—and Mariner just blowing him off was easily on par with Sisko punching him out, omfg

Come on, a soccer game (with a singing ball) against anthropomorphic playing cards, on a chess board, which is actually a puzzle, that they have to solve to prove humanity’s worth, except really Q is just fucking with them—that’s straight out of a Peter David novel and I was living for it. What more do you need?

Boimler giving a rousing This! Is! Starfleet! speech—and then ending it by shouting “Drumhead!” and mic-dropping the Horn of Candor—was such a perfect microcosm of this stupid, stupendous show :D

“Creepy? This is one of our nicest Event Silos! I got married here!”

And now for some prop talk! The phaser rifles that Ransom and Tendi and [REDACTED] were carrying look like they’re of a design lineage with the ones we saw on VOY (and then late-period DS9), with the angles and proportions “modernized,” in a way the others feel distinctly of-the-90’s now, and that’s such a nice subtle touch—I love how much attention LwD pays to whatever “set dressing” is called in animation.

I was going to get into a whole Thing there, about how phasers were “de-militarized” in design for TNG, and how they’ve since regressed to resemble IRL firearms—RIP the tome of Star Trek essays in my head nobody will ever pay me to write—but honestly? I’m just delighted that this show is making me think so hard about Star Trek As A Concept. I literally feel like a kid again.

TNG and DS9 left me so hungry for post–Dominion War worldbuilding, and then VOY fucked off to the Delta Quadrant, and then ENT fucked off to prequels and the franchise got stuck there for 20 years… and sure, in my heart of hearts I sometimes wish this show had maybe 15% more chill—which is just because I’m getting old—but in so many other important ways, it feels like coming home <3

Oh, and this week’s “Am I actually, literally Beckett Mariner?” moment was when she didn’t care about classified information because “knowing things means more work.” If that’s not me filtering emails at my day job...

Next week: A holodeck hijinks episode, but it looks more VOY-style holo-hijinks than TNG-style—which is basically trashy cable movies vs. PBS, so fuckin’ sign me up.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All my love

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, intercourse), stalking, general creepiness and deception.

This is dark!Peter Parker (adult) and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is new to the big city but she has a new friend watching over her.

Note: This is my first dark!Peter Parker so please be easy on me. He has been aged up and this takes place when he’s grown up and living his spidey dreams. I’ve made him like uber creepy I think and it gets pretty eerie I think but I hope yall enjoy some Spidey.

Anyway :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read. <3 Love you all.

It started on Monday. The first day of the week. Something was always bound to go awry. 

You should have suspected it. Work had been too easy. The library had seen a steady flow of patrons but not overwhelming. Visitors and books alike kept you busy and time rolled by. It was just too good to be true.

You stepped inside your small apartment and bent to pick up the mail just inside. The carrier had left a deluge of flyers on your floor. You stood and shifted through the coupons and carpet cleaning service ad. There was a single bill and another unmarked envelope.

You set your purse on the coffee table and the bill too. You sat and turned the envelope in your hand. It didn't even have your address on it. You squinted and slowly slid your nail along the lip. You peeled the envelope open and slipped out the folded paper inside. It was a handwritten letter, your name at the top beside a small heart. You stared at the greeting in confusion.

You didn't know too many people in the city. You'd transferred to New York from a small town. You wanted to live on your own, like, truly on your own. You didn't want your parents just down the street or to run into the people you went to high school with everywhere you went. It was scary but in a thrilling way.

Okay, you breathed and carried on.

My darling,

You do not know me but I know you. I know your favourite cafe to get coffee by the park and the little mouse keychain on your purse. I know you like rainy days and reading in your window. 

I know you're all alone. Lonely, even. I know the curves of your lips and the spark in your eye. I know everything but you don't know me.

But you can. You only need to ask me in. To leave the door open for your secret admirer.

All my love.

A bigger heart to end the letter. The paper fluttered from your fingers as you stood. You marched to the door and turned the deadbolt. You hooked the chain in place and peered through the peephole. The hall was empty. 

Your heart raced and you turned to glance around your apartment. Was it a joke? Some sick prank by a neighbour? Or worse? You pushed yourself from the door and strode back to grab the paper. You crumpled it and tossed it in the bin.

You didn't sleep that night. Or the next night. Another letter greeted you after work. The same sentiments, the same paralyzing fear. You threw it away like the other and a third one arrived on Wednesday.

You didn't read that one or the one the next day. You made sure to lock the door and windows and slept with a light on and knife under your mattress.

On Friday, you were ready to crumble. You couldn't decipher or explain the odd letters. You were on desk duty; answering questions, processing fines, and registering new members. 

It was close to your lunch break when the man walked in. His brown uniform and the slim box beneath his arm betrayed his occupation. The delivery man smiled as he approached your desk.

"I have a package for…" He held up his electronic pad and read your name. 

"That would be me," You replied dumbly.

"I just need a signature," He turned the pad to you. "Then it's all yours."

You took the pen and signed. Sometimes packages were addressed to employees. Usually packets of forms or new labels. Nothing overly important.

The carrier handed over the small package and left you to ponder its contents. You would wait until your lunch and finish up scanning returns.

You had your usual boxed lunch; a sandwich, tea, and a granola bar. The break room was small and smelled of aged paper, like the rest of the library, with a hint of coffee.

You took the package as you chewed your turkey and rye. You peeled away the paper and slid the small box out. It wasn’t really big enough to fit the usual forms. You lifted the lid and blinked at the fold of tissue paper inside. You moved it away from the slip of fabric beneath. 

You gasped and pulled away. What the actual fuck? The frilled pink panties stared back at you and you hurried to replace the top of the box. Your hands shook as you pushed the box across the table and into your over-sized leather tote.

You wrapped up your sandwich and closed up your travel mug. You’d finish your tea at the desk. You weren’t very hungry anymore. You packed up and waited for the clock to tick. You punched and returned to the services desk.

As the day wore on, you grew antsy. Every man who approached you had you on edge. Someone was watching you. Not just at home but work too. 

Was it the man with the salt and pepper hair and square glasses? Or the one with pale blonde hair and the checkered shirt? Was it a man? Maybe it was the woman with her messy bun and baggy sweater.

When you left, you walked quickly to the subway. Your ears pricked at every footstep and you peeked over your shoulder every thirty seconds. You stepped onto the train and watched the strangers filter in after you. Were they watching you then? 

You looked up and down the car and shivered. When your stop came up, you bolted off the train and up the stairs to ground level. Your flats scraped on the pavement as you rushed around the bodies of the New York crowds. 

You slammed your buildings door and ran up the stairs two at a time. You paused as your apartment and peered along the hallway. There was no one else there. No eyes shining from the corner, no shadow looming against the wall.

You shoved your key in the door and pushed inside. You locked it behind you and your eyes bounced around the apartment. All was as you had left it. Curtains drawn, throw crumpled across the couch, your mug still on the coffee table. 

You dropped your bag on the chair and paced the edge of the area rug. You spun back and neared the chair. You pulled out the box and shook as you opened it again. Beneath the panties was a red card. You fished it out and read the scrawled writing; the same found in the letters.

My darling,

It breaks my heart to see you so lonely. I hoped that I could comfort you in my absence. Let these be a poor substitute to my touch. My fingers along your skin, tickling you, caressing you fondly.

All my love.

You placed the card back in the box and closed it up. You trembled as you took it and marched into your room. You shoved it at the bottom of your drawer, to the back, so you’d never have to think about it. 

You slumped on the edge of your bed and held your head. Your mind was in a flurry. Panic and anger mixed into one. Whoever was doing this was crazy. Why were they doing this to you? You rocked as you tried to focus; tried to come up with something.

Nothing. What could you do? Your tormentor was as good as invisible and in a city like New York it was hard to pick out any among the bunch. The cat callers, the beggars, the swindlers, all too obvious. This person knew how to lose themselves in the crowd. They knew how to watch while not being seen.

You sighed and fell back. Keep the doors locked and a bigger knife under the mattress. That was all you could do.

-

That night was as sleepless as the last. You tossed and turned and managed to doze just as the clock hit two. It was a shallow sleep. One in which you were floating too close to the surface. Shapes moved along your eyelids and your head ached. An exhaustion-induced slumber, nothing more. It was far from restful.

You woke with a start. You swore you had felt a tickle along your neck. Almost like a hand. You sat up and peered into the dark. Shadows of furniture and the glare of streetlights streaming through the window. You were alone.

But you hadn't been. You looked at the mattress next to you. The blanket was folded back and the sheets were wrinkled from occupation. You slid your fingers slowly along the imprint. The bed was still warm.

You grabbed for your phone and the knife beneath your mattress. You dialed the police as you got up and held the blade at the ready. You slowly traversed the perimeter of your room as the line picked up.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"There's someone in my apartment," Your voice was low and shaky. "I was asleep and I woke up and…s-someone's here. They've been following me."

"Okay, Miss, are they in the same room as you? Can you lock yourself in somewhere?"

"I don't know where they are," You quavered. "I can…get to the bathroom."

"Go in there and lock the door," The operator advised. "What's your address, miss?"

You gave your address as you crept into the bathroom and clicked the lock into place. You sat beside the toilet and bit your nails as you held the phone to your ear. Your eyes clung to the door, waiting for it to be kicked in.

"I have dispatched the police. I want you to talk to me until they get there, okay?"

"Okay," It was half a whisper. You held the knife at your knee and exhaled into the phone.

"Breathe, okay? They're almost there." You nodded another acquiescence and the operator talked to fill the silence. To drown out the dread.

You heard a bang. Then another. Voices followed and the distant beep of a radio. You edged over to the door and slowly unlocked it. You crept out with knife in hand, phone still against your ear.

You saw the dark uniforms and set the knife on the table inside your bedroom door. You assured the operator the police arrived and they let you go. You were tempted to hug the officers as they shone their flashlights around your small living room.

"Ma'am, are you okay? Where is the intruder?"

"I...I didn't see them but...there was someone here. I swear. I woke up...and-- come see." You sounded crazy, even to you. 

The second officer flicked on the lights as the other made to follow. You led them to your bedroom and switched the lamp on. You pointed to the bed.

"S-see. Someone was in my bed." The outline was still there. "It was warm and--"

"This is the bed you sleep in, ma'am?" They shared a doubtful look. 

"Yes, but on the other side. I woke and...they've been leaving letters and they sent this." 

You scurried to your dresser and pulled out the box. You handed it to the first officer and he raised a brow. He took the box and opened it. He stifled a chuckle and moved the panties aside to read the card.

"Ma'am, the police aren't here to deal with your clingy exes." He jibed.

"It's not--I don't…" A tap at the window interrupted your protest.  

A shadow loomed on the other side. The second officer stepped around the bed and sighed. He unlatched the window and slid it up. A figure in a red suit sat on your ledge. You'd seen him in newspapers and on television but never in person.

Spider-man swung lithely into your apartment. You were stunned. 

"Saw the cars, the lights. Thought I'd check in." He said coolly.

"False alarm," The second officer crossed his arms. "Lady's ex is just tryna win her back."

"No…" You gulped helplessly and shook your head. It was no good. Why did you throw the letters away? They would see then. 

"Come on, Lawson, we gotta deal with real problems." The first officer scoffed and led the other out. "In the future," He paused at your bedroom door and glanced back, "I suggest you only use the emergency line for emergencies."

The second rolled his eyes. "Best find some real criminals to bust, Spidey."

You watched them go and frowned. You turned back to the superhero still stood by your window. His head was tilted curiously but thankfully his mask hid his disdain.

“I’m sorry. I...you can go,” You said awkwardly as you crossed your arms.

You picked up the box the officer had left on your bed and shoved it back in the drawer. You turned and he was still there. You frowned.

“If you want, I can...keep an eye out.” He offered. His voice was kinder than you expected. “Just outside. Maybe camp out on the fire escape…”

“Why?” 

“You look tired. And it’s pretty slow tonight. Plus, it’s my job.” He shrugged. 

“Really?” You asked as you shifted your weight. “You don’t have to--”

“I do. If you’re afraid, I do. This city is mine to watch over. That means everyone. Even you.” It sounded like he was smiling but through the mask, you couldn’t see much. “So, I’m gonna plop myself on that fire escape, maybe kick the feet up, and if you need anything, you give a tap, okay?”

“But...what if somebody else--”

“Seems like the police are already on it, wouldn’t you say? One night without Spider-man, I think New York will survive. I mean, what do you think they did before me?”

You chewed your lip and thought. You looked at your bed and sighed. You were tired. The thought of sleep was intoxicating. A rare chance to rest without paranoia. In five days, sleep had become a forlorn memory.

“If it’s okay…” You ventured. “Just a few hours. I don’t want you to stay though if something happens.”

“It’ll be fine.” He assured you. “Get some sleep.” He neared the window and paused. “Uh, sorry, didn’t get your name.”

“My name?” You wondered. You figured it only made sense. Afterall, he’d be camping out under your window. You gave it to him and he nodded.

“You can call me Spidey, Spider-man, or some people call me a pest.” He hooked his leg through the window. “Your call.” He slipped out onto the escape and grabbed the pane. “Good night.”

With that, he shut the window and spun to sit on the metal platform with a creak. You stared out after him. You went to the bed and smoothed out the indent of the intruder before you climbed under the covers. He’d probably leave the minute you dozed but at least you’d be able to fall asleep.

-

You had Saturdays off. The interns and part-timers mostly worked the weekends. When you woke, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. You yawned and stretched as you turned your legs over the bed. A tap came at the window and you jumped. It was Spider-man.

It was an odd thought. An Avenger right outside your window. You stood and crossed to the pane. You opened it for him and he leaned through.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked.

“Fine. Very good actually. Thank you. I can’t believe…” You blinked at the sunlight that limned his figure. “You didn’t have to stay all night.”

“But I did. And you were safe.” He countered. “Now, it’s my turn to go get some sleep.” 

“Thank you.” You said.

“Never a problem. Especially for you.” His fingers tapped on the frame and he stared at you for a moment. He cleared his throat and shook himself. “Anyways, I’m tired. I should go.”

“Alright...bye.” You smiled nervously. 

“Yeah, see ya.” He hesitated before he spun back and jumped up on the rail. “Don’t worry. I’ll be swinging around soon.”

With that, he launched himself off the escape and you watched as he repelled along the next building with his webs. You closed the window and ran your hands over your hair. You needed coffee. 

You walked blindly into the living room and through to the kitchen. You sniffed as you set up the machine and hit brew. You leaned against the counter as you waited for the morning cure. Your eyes strayed to the door. An envelope on the floor, a single rose attached. It must have fluttered through the slot when you were asleep. Your heart skipped.

You pushed yourself away from the counter and tiptoed to the door. You bent and picked up the letter. You set aside the rose and opened it with your nail. You pulled out the paper and read it with your stomach in your throat.

My darling, I apologize if I startled you but seeing you last night was so lovely. I have missed you and could not resist a kiss. You were so peaceful I did not want to wake you. I hope you liked my gift and cannot wait to see them on you.  All my love.

You dropped the letter and clutched your chest. You reached up to touch your lips and a wave of nausea threatened. He had been there and he had kissed you in your sleep. At least, it would seem he did. You shook and supported yourself against the counter. 

The rose tumbled to the floor as you tried to keep from hyperventilating. You stared down at its pale pink petals and grunted. You stomped it until it was in pieces and the grind of the coffee machine matched your frustration. 

Why wouldn’t they leave you alone? What had you done to draw their attention?

You leaned, out of breath and numb, against the counter. You only hoped Spidey was in the neighbourhood during their next visit, otherwise you were fucked.

-

He did come back. Spidey, that was. He surprised you as you sat against your headboard reading. It was a distraction to keep you awake. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping that night. 

It was almost midnight when the knock came. You jumped and looked to the window. You could see his outline beneath the streetlight, the faint hint of red beneath the yellow glare. You got up and unlocked the window. He leaned against the ledge and looked around your room.

“Told you I’d be back,” He announced. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just reading,” You held up your book. “Can’t sleep.”

“Oh, so then you do need me,” He commented. 

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to--”

“I can’t just leave you here. Alone. Afraid. Don’t worry, you’re not getting in the way of my crime fighting style.” He assured you. “Isn’t that what I’m doing here? Keeping you safe?”

“Yeah, but…” You sighed. “It’s really not the same. I’m just one person and there’s--”

“There’s others out there doing the job better than me. The cops, firefighters, paramedics. I’m really just back up to those guys.” He argued. “Promise, if anything pressing comes up, you’ll see me diving headfirst into it, okay?”

You rubbed your neck as you thought. You really didn’t want to be alone. “Alright…” You relented. “But...I feel bad, you sitting out there. Do you wanna...um, maybe you could pull up a chair instead?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” He sounded surprised by the offer. “I mean, if it’s not too much. To be quite honest, this escape gives me a touch of vertigo and it’s not very accommodating to the tush.”

“Yeah, no problem,” You backed up and he climbed over the sill. You left him there as you went through to the living room to drag in the Ikea armchair you used more for your purse than yourself. “Here. It’s not the best but...it’s what I got.”

“I’m not picky,” He neared and lifted the chair easily and planted it in front of the window. “I’ve sat in worse.” You watched him sit and put his feet up on the window pane. “Now, get some sleep.”

-

That wasn't the last night the webbed crusader showed up at your window. A few mornings he even stayed for coffee. He was friendly enough and seemed to enjoy your company even if you were a bit quiet. He did most of the talking anyway.

And the letters continued to slide through your mail slot. Flowers sent to home and work alike. The ominous shadow, still unseen, always along your peripherals but never coming into focus. 

It was three weeks since it began and two weeks since Spidey declared himself your personal watchman. You kept the letters in a box and made note of every occurrence. The next time the police came, you'd be prepared.

You were at work. The letter had been waiting for you there. You didn't read it. You hid it in your bag and tried to focus on cataloging. Your mind was frayed and it became harder to hold the threads together. After scanning the same book six times, you gave up.

You looked around the library. A dull Monday morning. 

You went to Lois at the service desk. She had a book open before her as no patrons lined up for her help.

"Hey, I hate to do this but do you mind if I...go? I'm not feeling so hot." You asked.

"I was gonna say, you don't look so good," She joked. "Course, hun, think I can handle the hordes alone."

"I'm so sorry." You said. "Really."

"Don't worry about it, this place is about as lively as a convent." She looked back to her book. "Go on. Worst comes, I can get an intern in for extra credit."

"Thanks. I'll be in early tomorrow. Promise."

"Just go," She chided. "Before I decide I want company."

You were only too thankful to be done. You thought of adding locks to the door. on the subway. You got off and pondered finding a new apartment. It might be your only hope.

You were reassured to find your locks secure. You opened the door and closed it quietly. You paused and listened. You could hear the wind as if you'd left your window open. 

You tiptoed to your bedroom and peeked inside. A familiar red-clothed back greeted you. Unaware as he stood over your dresser, a small box in hand, he rubbed the pink fabric between his fingers and your jaw dropped. What the fuck? 

Your bag slipped from your hand and he turned to you. You were knocked back by the sudden force against your chest as the web sprang across your middle. You fell into the door frame as Spidey tossed the box aside. The pointed eyes of his mask rounded and he stuttered as he looked around.

As wordless as you, he darted for the window and disappeared into the sky. You held onto the wood as you gaped at the open window. You were breathless from both the suddenness of the scene and the force of the web. 

You looked down and tried to peel the strings from your sweater. They were tough and clung to the fabric. You gave up and shook your head. Your entire body was rattled. Was this what shock felt like? You crossed to the window and closed it. The lock slid into place and you peered through the glass.

You were entirely confused. Was he a snoop or a pervert? His evasion would suggest the latter, as well as the way he held the panties. Had you unwittingly invited a second predator into your life? Or had you merely traded one for the other? 

Yet, the first hadn’t gone. He stayed in the shadows and now his chance to jump had come. 

-

You didn’t sleep for a week. Not truly. You napped after work when the sun was on its decline but in the dark, there was no rest to be had. Alone and terrified, you huddled on your couch under the light of a lamp. You tried to read, but your mind was too frazzled for that. Then you’d just stare at the wall and doze off only to jump awake in a moment.

It wasn’t just the fatigue wearing on your mind. It was the incessant letters, the unwanted gifts, and now, texts. Nothing was yours anymore. You waited every night for the lock to break and your stalker to stroll in with knife or rope.

Then there was the loneliness. You didn’t realize how accustomed you had grown to the nocturnal visits. Spidey had become a stalwart of your nightly routine. You missed his shadow in the chair, staring out over the city. But you couldn’t help but wonder why he had been snooping around in your underwear?

Maybe you couldn’t trust anyone in this city. Maybe you should go back home to the old library with the church bell. A place where you had family to look over you and not some fantastical superhero.

You flinched as the coffee table buzzed. You looked over as your phone lit up. You blocked the first number. And the second. The third. The fourth. You lost count. It didn’t matter, they found a way. There was no barrier strong enough to keep them away. Definitely not your old front door with it rusty chain lock.

You ignored the vibration. You held your head and grumbled. Another buzz. And a another. You grabbed your phone and looked at the notifications.

Private number: Darling, are you okay? Private number: You haven’t answered me. I am beginning to worry for you. Private number: You should sleep, darling. It is late and you look so tired.

You hit silent and slammed the phone down. You were shaking. You looked around, the streetlights shone as they always did, and the speckled windows of other buildings mirrored the stars. You stood and let the thin throw fall back on the couch.

You stormed over to the window and ripped it open. You poked your head out and looked up and down the fire escape. No one. And yet it was as if they could see you. You grunted through your teeth and gripped the window sill. 

“What do you want from me?” You shouted into the night. “Just leave me alone!”

The fire escape creaked and a spot appeared in the corner of your eye. You yiped and pulled back and grabbed the window. A hand kept it from closing; the patterned red fabric revealed its owner. Spidey held the window and bent to look through.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He said. “I...Are you okay?”

“No,” You crossed your arms. “I’m not.”

Silence rose between you as he perched outside your window. He hung his head and scratched his chin in thought.

“I am sorry, you know? I didn’t...I was only being nosy. It wasn’t--” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have touched your stuff, I was only curious, you know? About why you were so scared.” He leaned on the pane. “I understand if you can’t forgive me but I had to at least apologize.”

You thought. You swallowed as the words bubbled in your throat. What had he really done but rifle through your dresser? He shouldn’t have done that, yes, but perhaps you had been quick to condemn. What had he done to earn such snap judgement? He had sat in your window and kept you safe for weeks. He had saved the city time and again and you were mad because he dared to open a drawer.

“You could’ve asked.” You dropped your arms. “I guess...I can’t be mad forever.”

He perked up. If you could see behind the mask, you were sure he was smiling.

“I can stay out here for the night but...you look like you need some peace. Some sleep.” He remarked.

“No, don’t stay out there.” You relented. “And thank you. I do need the sleep. I haven’t...You don’t have to--”

“Consider it my penance,” He carefully climbed through the window, almost hesitant to come inside. “Promise you, these fingers may be sticky but they will keep to themselves.”

“We’ll see,” You kidded and he closed the window. 

“Now, young lady, I think it’s time you get to bed,” He said playfully. “I’ll take first watch.”

You chuckled and led him into the bedroom. The chair was still by the window. You were reluctant to move it back. Moving it would mean you were completely alone. You sat on the bed as he moved through the dark. He stopped by the chair and turned to you as you pulled back the blanket.

“Should I tuck you in or…” You raised a brow and he laughed. “I’m joking. I do that when I’m...nervous.”

You blinked at him. Spider-man, nervous? Around you? You smiled. “It’s fine.” You yawned into your hand.

“Sleep,” He rounded the chair and sat, “I mean it. You know sleep deprivation can kill.”

“Gee, so optimistic,” You laid back on the pillows and pulled the blanket up. “Thanks. Really.”

“Enough of that.” He warned. “Sleep. Please.”

He watched you as you snuggled into the mattress. He didn’t look away even as you rolled onto your side. Through the dark you could feel his gaze. Despite the apology, the forgiveness, the jokes, it felt different. There was something off but your tired mind just couldn’t piece it together.

-

You slept so heavily, all traces of consciousness slipped from you. Your dreams were filled with hazy sunlight and muted tones. There was no story line, only a kaleidoscope of colours. It was like a river washing over you, cleansing you. All the sleep you had lost weighed you down until it felt like chains were hooked on wrist and ankle.

Your eyes opened slowly. Your head felt full of cotton and your mouth was dry. There was an unusual warmth beside you. You forced your eyes open and looked over. A man you’d never seen before laid there. Reddish brown hair and delicate but stony features. His brown eyes met yours and he smiled.

You did know him. He still wore the suit, only he had disposed of the mask. Your heart leapt and you tried to shake the sleep from your head. Were you still dreaming?

“Good morning, darling,” He sang as his fingers ran along your cheek.

“What are you--” You batted away his hand. “What did you just call me?”

“Shhh,” He sat up as you did. 

His hand clamped over your mouth as he hushed you and his other arm snaked around you. He drew you close. It was hard to believe this was the man behind the mask. He was still boyish and yet there was something darker. Something simmering beneath the surface. You whimpered as he clung to you.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, darling.” He cooed.

That word again. You tensed and your eyes searched the room. Was this really Spidey? Or had another snuck in and took his place?

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t resist. So long watching, it becomes harder to stay away.” He bit his lip and leaned in. He dragged his nose along yours as he spoke, his break hot around his hand. You trembled. “Please don’t be afraid. I’ve only watched over you. To keep you safe. To keep you company. You looked so alone.”

You murmured into his hand and he held you tighter. You brought your hands up to push against him and he sighed.

“I won’t hurt you. Ever.” He promised as your eyes widened. “Please know that.” He smiled sweetly and leaned back. “So please don’t scream.”

He slowly removed his hand from your mouth. You stared at him. Your eyes burned and your heart hammered in your ears. You opened your mouth to shriek. His fingers flicked and you were once more smothered. The thick webs covered your mouth and you reached up to pry them away.

He caught your hands and held them away from your lips. “I don’t want it to be like this, darling,” He said. “I’d love to kiss you and those webs won’t make that easy.” Your voice was smothered as you tried to argue and his grip grew tighter around your wrists. “Have I hurt you?”

You blinked and lowered your brow. He hadn’t but he hadn’t been honest either. This whole time it had been him. Watching you, following you, taunting you. And  he had sat in your bedroom and pretended to be your protector. You were a fool.

“I have only been good to you. And you would throw out my letters and spurn my gifts.” He tutted. “Wallowed in your loneliness.”

You tried to pull away and he tugged you closer. He got up on his knees and forced you onto your back. He climbed over you and straddled you to the bed. He released a hand and held the other against a bar along the headboard. He webbed it in place and grabbed the other. You tried to wiggle free but he caught you easily.

You kicked as your wrists were restrained above you. Your cries dampened by the webs across your lips. His fingertips tickled your neck and he framed your face with his hands. He smiled down at you. You squirmed helplessly as he squeezed his thighs to your sides.

He shot his hands out behind him. Your feet were caught in the webs that wrapped around the end board. You were entirely at his mercy. He inhaled deeply and carefully got off of you. His eyes ran the length of your body and you pulled against the restraints. It made no difference.

He turned and opened the dresser drawer. He pulled out the same box and opened it. He held up the panties. 

“I was sad you didn’t wear them.” He bemoaned. “A nice colour on you.”

You grunted and looked to the ceiling. It felt as if the walls were closing in. Your body was covered in goosebumps and yet you couldn’t stop sweating.

“It’s okay. We can save them for a special occasion.” He tucked them back beneath the tissue paper. “I just want us to enjoy this, darling. Let’s not worry about anything else.”

You glanced down at your body. The loose pajama shorts and camisole were poor protection. You hadn’t thought much of it in the dark. Now the morning light glowed in the window frames and limned along every fold and wrinkle.

“I was patient. I really was but...it’s time, darling. You and I are meant to be together.” 

He reached back and his suit fell slack. He lowered it down his arms and stepped out of it with ease. He was lean but muscular, his shoulders broader than most of him. He wore little black briefs beneath the suit. He brought a knee up onto the bed and looked over your body.

“It’s a big city. Dangerous to be alone here.”

He moved between your legs and his fingers grazed your thighs. His tongue peeked out between his teeth. He purred and leaned over you, his hands on either side of you. He bent and pressed his lips to yours. You could feel him through the webs. 

He brought an arm up next to your head and caressed your hair. He pulled away and his brown eyes sparkled. “You’re so beautiful.” His other hand brushed your hip and his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your camisole. “I love you, darling.”

You grimaced and he kissed you again. He dragged his lips along your cheek and down your jaw. His hand grazed your stomach and chest. He groaned. He doted on your neck and shoulders. He pushed your camisole up your torso and you flinched as he bared your chest.

His hands covered your tits and he buried his head between them. His mouth explored with fervour as his fingers kneaded tenderly. He took a nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. He nipped but did not bite. Firm but not rough.

You tensed as he moved lower down. He left a trail along your stomach as his hands hugged your hips. He nuzzled against the cotton shorts and pulled aside the loose crotch. You felt his breath along your vee and shivered.

He teased along your thighs, teeth and tongue. You winced as it sent a tingle along your spine. His fingers rubbed along your lips and he pushed them apart. You gasped but it made no sound. He ran his middle finger over your clit and replaced it with his tongue. You pushed your head back as the sensation intensified.

His mouth made you wet. You were ashamed as the heat began to gather in your core and he tasted your arousal as it rose. He suckled and lapped carefully. Every flick, every swirl, deliberate. His hand stretched over your thigh and he hummed in delight. He lifted his head, you couldn’t look at him.

“You’re delicious, darling.” He keened and you closed your eyes. 

He dipped his head down again and you spasmed. His tongue danced along your clit and slid between your folds. Your head lolled back and forth. You were dizzy from the shock of it all. Your thighs tensed and your curse was muted by the webs. You were breathless as you came. Surprised by the sudden rush as it left you weak.

“See,” He parted and looked up at you. You opened your eyes, a blur of tears and splendour. “I only want to love you.”

You arched your back and pulled against the webs. It was a paltry attempt. Your last act of pride as he moved closer on his knees. He rolled his briefs down and you blanched. You looked to the ceiling again as the mattress shifted below you.

He bent over you again, his arm bent under yours as he kissed you. He cradled your cheek as he felt around with his other hand. He pushed his cock past your pajamas, the fabric pressed against your thigh, and dragged the head along your folds. You squirmed and he gripped your chin.

You opened your eyes as he poked along your entrance. He stared down at you as he pushed inside and you tried to speak through the webs. He sank, deeper and deeper, his mouth slowly opened in a silent gasp. He shuddered and paused as he bottomed out.

“Oh god,” He whispered, “Oh.”

He pressed his lips to the web. He began to move slowly. His hips rocked against you in a gentle rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to steady your breathing. He felt much bigger than you expected. 

You tried to resist the echo of your orgasm as it began to build again. You whined through your nose as his lips left yours. He hung his head next to yours and nibbled at your throat. His pace mounted a little at a time. He groaned and grunted into your skin. 

He pushed himself up and grabbed your hips. His thighs were firm against yours as he worked into you. His flesh clapped loudly and you looked down at him. His muscles flexed as he watched himself fuck you. He was rabid as he admired the way his cock slid in and out of you. The sight spurred him on as he pounded into you harder with each thrust.

“I can feel it. You gonna cum?” He snarled as his pelvis jerked against yours. 

You hit your head against the bed as your pussy tightened around him. You couldn’t fight it. The feel of him against your walls. The fire crackling within as it licked at your flesh. He pressed his thumb to your clit and you spasmed. It was enough to send you over the edge again.

“Oh, oh,” He slammed into you and slid his hands around to lift your ass. The angle let him even deeper. “I’m gonna--”

He exclaimed and you felt him cum. He coated your walls and it eased his last few thrusts. He rode out his climax and his head fell back as he panted. He brought his hands around to your hips and down your thighs. He caressed you as he caught his breath.

“Darling, that was…” He sighed as he smiled down at you. “Perfect.”

[nickgerlich]

The Next Next Thing

Everyone knows that beer is probably not very high on anyone’s list for diet-friendly foods and beverages. Sure, we can joke all day long that “there’s a sandwich in every beer,” but the fact remains that between the carbohydrates and alcohol, beers can pack a mighty punch.

And it’s a punch usually felt around the belt line. There’s a reason why they call it a beer belly.

To help appease critics as well as those seeking to imbibe without getting six-pack abs (and I’m not talking about muscular ones), breweries have been offering low-calorie options since at least the 1960s, when Gablinger’s dietetic beer hit New England store shelves. This was soon followed by Meister Brau Lite out of Chicago,  which was purchased by Miller Brewing Company and turned into a nation-wide brew. There are even low-calorie IPAs being brewed by a growing number of craft breweries today.

But now the folks at Anheuser-Busch, owned by Belgian brewing conglomerate AB-InBev, have taken beer to new lows--literally and metaphorically--with Bud Light Next, due to hit grocers and liquor stores in 2022. It clocks in with zero carbs, is 4% alcohol, and has only 80 calories. And since breweries typically do not put fat in beer, I’ll assume the calories come from the alcohol and protein found in the grains.

Which basically has me thinking this is a 12-ounce serving of water, but with a slight buzz if you guzzle enough of it.

While I can agree there has been a growing emphasis toward health consciousness in recent years (and maybe to help burn off any COVID fat we put on during lockdown), I must also reply by saying you don’t drink beer to lose weight. Yet Marketers have regaled us with many dozens of new seltzer brands and flavors the last couple of years, ostensibly targeted at Gen-Z drinkers, but also purchased by those wanting a buzz without the bulge. It’s an easy sell.

As for me, I like to actually taste my beer. I don’t want my beer at 28ºF, one degree above beer’s freeze point, because that just numbs your taste buds. I like a hoppy, frothy brew that makes you feel like you’ve had a real glass of beer. And if I have to cycle extra miles to atone for my guilty pleasure, then so be it.

I can only imagine the lack of taste in this new brew. Tap water, anyone?

And to be honest, most of these flavorless concoctions are just alcohol delivery systems, and because they are lower in calorie and alcohol per serving, people just drink more because--well--because they feel like they can.

It’s an interesting race to the bottom of the barrel, so to speak, and of course I’ll grab these in all the different sizes if only to have them represented in my beer can collection, but I don’t see this 157th line extension going anywhere except down the drain.

Because that’s where I pour any bad beer I encounter.

Dr “Yeah, I’m A Beer Snob“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 14: A Welcome Distraction

((Abe takes to the streets in search of the Host, but instead he finds a different kind of performer. Back at his office, he finds a new, seemingly unrelated case waiting for him.

Here are links to the previous part and to the whole series.))

Abe chose to walk to the coffee shop, hoping the walk would help clear his head after a long night and that conversation with Google. That, and he wanted the extra time to take a different route, to see if he was still being followed or not. Problem was, he forgot that weekends were a thing, and it seemed like half the city was out shopping and enjoying the warmer than usual fall weather. He checked faces at every crosswalk, doubled back and looked over his shoulder whenever he had an excuse to do so, but if he was supposed to recognize any of those faces, he didn’t.

Instead, the walk just gave him more time to think about what he wanted to say to the Host once he got his hands on him, and a few creative things he’d like to do to…pretty much everyone who had a hand in getting him involved in this case. All this time spent watching a doctor, and he could have been using it to find out more about the Colonel’s new alias—if he even really was going by a ridiculous name like Wilford Warfstache these days.

The bench in front of the coffee shop was taken by a pair of ladies happily chatting, and a quick search up and down the street found no sign of the Host. There was another street performer there though, who had set up a small booth set up to look like a stage and curtains that could just barely fit one person inside. A burst of laughter came from the crowd gathered in front of the temporary stage, with a few kids sitting so close that they had to look up to what a sign pinned to the top of the stage proclaimed to be “Jameson Jackson’s Jolly Jaunts.” Jackson, probably, was pantomiming alongside a pair of puppets, shock on his face as the cloth detective puppet accused him of stealing a diamond while the other, a cutout of the most stereotypical burglar you could image on a stick, proclaimed that he knew it all along.

As Abe watched, Jackson appealed to the audience and an increasing number of puppets for help, the bit going on until the detective puppet slapped him on the back of the head and he coughed up a shiny rock to the puppets’ shocked silence before they all piled on him, dragging him out of view to the audience’s cheers and laughter.

Cute, but not the reason Abe stuck around after a “The End” card was drawn up on a string, and the puppeteer and a few of his favorites appeared to wave goodbye to the kids before they ran off. A few minutes after the crowd dispersed, the hunter watched Jackson step out of the back of the little popup stage, two shoebox-sized boxes tucked under one arm.

“Need some help cleaning up?” Abe asked as the puppeteer set the boxes down on top of the booth and stretched, visibly glad to be out of the confined space.

Jackson dropped his arms mid-stretch and pointed at his throat, drawing a line across it with his finger before shrugging.

“Oh, you can’t—” Abe paused. “But your show, I heard…”

Jackson smiled and opened one of the smaller boxes, tilting it to reveal multiple identical devices. He tapped a button on the one labeled “Diamond Heist”, causing the puppet detective’s voice to ask, “But what about the cookies?!”

“That’s…actually pretty clever,” Abe said, causing the puppeteer to smile. Especially considering he recalled at least one of the puppets directly responding to something one of the kids called out.

Jackson started to sign before catching himself and pulling a small notepad and pen out of one of his waistcoat pockets. There he wrote, “Thank you, my friends were kind enough to supply the recordings for me. And a few other tricks, to keep it interesting.”

He winked, and only grinned wider when Abe said, “Guess I don’t need to bother with complimenting your ventriloquism skills then. Do you do a lot of street shows like this?”

“Different places, but yes. Mostly on the weekends, more often during the summer for the kids. I’ve done a thing or two in more traditional venues, but that’s more for the older crowd.” Jackson shrugged again once Abe was done reading, as if to say one place was as good as the other.

Abe nodded before asking the question he had been leading up to, “I ran into a guy the other day who apparently sings on the corner around here sometimes, but I’m having a hard time finding him again. Called himself the Host, had bandages around his eyes. You haven’t you seen him around, have you?”

Jackson tapped his chin with the end of his pen before writing, “Can’t say that I have, but I try to avoid performing in an area when I see someone else is already there. Don’t want to be rude!”

The puppeteer hesitated before adding, “I know a few places that tend to be popular with street artists. Why are you looking for this Host fellow?”

“I know the owner of that coffee shop over there, Carla. He was coming around here a lot for a while there and suddenly stopped, and she’s just a little worried so I thought I’d check on him,” Abe lied. Last he checked, Carla wasn’t worried at all, probably because she was used to customers like Abe disappearing for days or even months at a time before showing up again like nothing happened at all. At least, he assumed he wasn’t the only one who did that. Either way, wasn’t like he was about to explain the real reason to some random guy on the street. “Do you mind helping me out?”

Jackson pulled a fancy-looking silver pocket watch out of his other waistcoat pocket, opening an intricately carved cover to check the time before writing his response.

“Looks like my friend is running a little late. If you were serious about helping me pack up, I can give you a few ideas.”

Easy enough, and between the two of them the stage was soon a folded bundle that, while a few feet long, the puppeteer could at least manage to carry by himself, although add in the boxes of recording devices and puppets and it all seemed like a bit much.

“You sure you can manage all of this?” Abe asked as he tucked the list Jackson gave him into his pocket for later. Not that he was about to volunteer to lug all this stuff anywhere, especially considering he hadn’t taken the car today, but he did feel a twinge of guilt at leaving the hipster puppeteer to fend for himself.

Jackson nodded and started to write before he was distracted by a text notification. He took out a basic-looking phone that he probably only used for the text function, considering how he fumbled with it before smiling at the message.

“He’s on his way! Thank you for the help,” he wrote for Abe’s sake.

The hunter tried not to look too relieved, which became a lot easier when for the second time today he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the clear, sneaking sensation that he was being watched.

Jackson stared as he looked around, Abe’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the people walking by, the busy shops, before landing on a figure standing too still in the narrow, shared drive between the nearby laundromat and florist’s shop for deliveries. A figure who disappeared as soon as the hunter glanced his way, leaving a vague impression of someone wearing red.

“Good,” Abe said, barely listening to what he was saying. “Uh, thanks for the list, I should…get on that now, for Carla.”

Jackson nodded and waved as he walked away, looking bemused and a little concerned for the hunter. Almost as soon as the hunter disappeared around the corner, the puppeteer jumped at the sudden presence of the man standing next to him.

“Don’t do that!” Jameson signed.

“Sorry,” Jackie said out of reflex, not that it ever stopped him from doing it. He was staring at where he last saw the hunter, the corner of his mouth turning down in a grimace. “Who was that guy?”

“Not sure,” Jameson said. “He was asking about another street performer, a singer, I think. Said someone was worried about him.”

“Just that?” Jackie asked, and Jameson shrugged. “…Okay. Let me know if you see him around again, maybe I can help him find what he’s looking for.”

Jameson paused, wondering if he was reading too much into Jackie’s expression and tone of voice, but the vigilante shook his head and picked up the folded stage.

“We should get back,” Jackie said. “I left Chase trying to convince Y/N to wear their collar and go for a walk.”

“Oh, that would be nice!” Jameson signed. “I certainly don’t want to miss that.”

“Great, then you can be the one to tell them about the leash law,” Jackie said, waiting for Jameson to pick up the rest of his materials before motioning for him to lead the way.

Behind Jameson, Jackie shot one more look at where he lost sight of the hunter. He’d have to ask Jameson a few more questions about what, exactly, the hunter had said, and maybe encourage him to set up his act somewhere on the other side of the city for a while. Better to have to get a ride from Chase than to risk running into that man again.

---

Red.

He was sure of it, the person watching him had been wearing red. He hadn’t been able to make out anything else in that split second, but did he really need to?

Google. That thing was watching him, had to be. Probably whatever magic kept him running also made it easier for him to get around without being noticed, or maybe it was a special feature whoever he was working for had added on.

The longer Abe thought about it, the surer he was, until by the time he returned to his office he was furious enough to punch the tin can man, consequences be damned. The fact that his walk around half the city failed to turn up the Host or seemingly anyone else who knew the guy, and he was not in the mood to find someone waiting outside of his office again.

A fact the young woman who looked up and saw him coming seemed well aware of, as the second she saw him she stopped leaning against the office door and rubbed the back of her neck with a heavily-tattooed arm.

“Sorry, think I’ve got the wrong place,” she muttered, already stepping aside to go around him.

Abe sighed and said, “Well, if you were looking for someone who knows what he’s doing, I think you might be right about that. Still willing to give it a shot, if you need help with something.”

She hesitated, giving him time to look her up and down. Short dark hair, young enough to be in her late teens or early twenties if he had to guess. Despite the cold weather, she was wearing a sleeveless top over her ripped jeans, which showed off the full spread of her tattoo sleeves. The ink on her dark skin was dominated by images of waves and schools of fish, to the point the sleeves would have looked just as at home on the arms of a sailor.

“I was told you could help with…finding something of mine,” she said, unable to completely hide her doubt.

“You know I’m a hunter, right? I don’t usually look for things.” Someone sent her here? Carla, maybe, he had asked her to keep an eye out for any potential cases, but of course his luck meant she would she show up now.

“I know, I wouldn’t be here at all if—” she stopped herself and took a breath. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I can’t go to anyone else because…It’s complicated.”

“I get that a lot,” Abe muttered. As much as he didn’t want to, he already knew where this was going. “We can talk about it in my office.”

She nodded, and it wasn’t until after he unlocked the door that Abe thought to say, “Right, sorry about the mess.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she said, not even blinking an eye at the state he’d left the place in this morning. Still, she waited until Abe sat behind his desk before she slowly sat down in the opposite chair, her arms pulled in tight around her. “Like I said, I need help getting back something—something very important to me. I know who has it, but I’m afraid if I try to get it back myself, he’ll…”

She swallowed, hard, and not for the first time Abe thought maybe he should try to keep tissues around here. Then again, she looked closer to being sick than actually crying.

“You know this guy?” Abe asked.

“I thought he was a friend, he thought we were something else,” she answered. “Still does. This is just a stunt to keep me from leaving, or maybe he’s just being vindictive, but either way I can’t risk getting it myself.”

“And this thing he stole would be…?” Abe asked. Kind of an important part of this, after all.

She swallowed again and hesitated, eyes searching him as though trying to find some clue whether she could tell him or not.

Abe returned the stare, before his eyes drifted back to the tattoos on her arm. Loves the ocean, a guy steals something so personal from her that she can barely speak of it, can’t take it to the police…and suddenly it became a story he’d heard too many times before, usually after it was too late to do anything about it.

“Your sealskin?” he asked, and her expression answered for her. A selkie, a seal who could remove their skin and pass for human. Without that skin, she couldn’t change back. “Let me guess, you’re not registered with the city.”

She shook her head. “Couldn’t afford it, and the job at the bar, they don’t really like…my kind. Not human...Are you going to report me?”

Report her, and by the time she was done dealing with the aftermath, wannabe boyfriend would have had enough time to hide the skin or sell it on the black market to the highest bidder, if he didn’t just shred it out of spite.

“Where’s he live?” Abe asked.

Meri, that was her name, was surprised when the hunter returned under an hour later. It helped that the guy lived only a ten-minute drive away, and Abe was lucky enough to find him at home and willing to share where he had hidden the skin, or at least he was after Abe may or may have taken the opportunity to work out some pent-up aggression.

If she noticed the hunter’s split knuckles, Meri immediately forgot them the second she saw the smooth, dark pelt he held up. Her eyes watered as she smiled for the first time since she got here, and Abe rocked back on his feet as she tackled him in a hug.

“Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you,” she said, repeating the words over and over again as she pressed her sealskin to her chest, and now she really was crying and Abe really, really needed to invest in a box of tissues.

“He’s going to report you, you know,” Abe said.

“I know,” she said. No matter how he went about getting the skin, they both knew that’s what the outcome of getting it back would be. A guy like that didn’t just stop, even if Abe left him with a few things to consider. “I was already planning on leaving the city, I just couldn’t go without this. I know someone who can help me get through the watch on the harbor, and from there…”

“Well, good luck with that, and here’s hoping you never have to see me again,” Abe said.

She smiled, and for a second Abe was afraid she might hug him again. Despite her size, that last hug had threatened to crack his spine. Instead, she settled for another round of thanks before walking out of his office, leaving him to sigh and hunt down some ice for his knuckles.

If only all of his cases were so easy to take care of, Abe thought to himself as he glanced at the clock. Looked like he had just enough time to get a nap in before nightfall, when he’d take a drive around a certain neighborhood. Spotting the doctor leaving his home or returning in the morning seemed like too much to hope for, but at least it would make a change from staring at the door to the clinic all night.

Both would be a little more bearable too, after that little reminder that he could at least get something right every now and then.

((End of Part 14. Thanks again for reading! Sorry that I haven’t been responding to the comments--it’s really, really hard not to spoil stuff! I have seen them though and it sounds like a longer part is okay, so that’s what I’ll do for tomorrow. Can’t wait for you all to see where that one goes. :)

Edit: And here’s the link to Part 15: Going for a Walk.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

[eightysixed]

happier than ever

You call me again, drunk in your Benz Drivin' home under the influence You scared me to death, but I'm wastin' my breath 'Cause you only listen to your fuckin' friends I don't relate to you I don't relate to you, no 'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty You made me hate this city

words: 3.2k plot: emma and tomo’s relationship, in a nutshell. trigger warnings: abuse, assault, drugs, cheating, violence, blood, suicidal ideation, nsfw

Five years is a lifetime when you’ve just begun your twenties. It’s half a decade of years so formative and important that you don’t really realize their importance until they have flown past.

Emma spent those years with Tomo.

[ SEPTEMBER 2014 ]

A twenty-one year old goes to an Outkast concert. She gets propositioned by a guy. Rough, pushy, handsy, it’s enough to make her feel suffocated, plan paths of escape or desperately look for a face in the crowd that could intervene. Then he comes in with his buddies and they all but rescue her. How ironic Emma thinks, years later. What a Disney-ified, damsel in distress moment to have and to meet by.

They spend the rest of the concert together, follow it up with an after hours at Los Coyotes, wolfing down soft shells in between food-spitting laughter. Emma, Tomo, and his two buddies. The energy is infectious, and she doesn’t want to say goodbye at the end of the night. It’s a feeling she has never felt before; those sparks in his eyes that are in hers too, the way he grounds and floors her. They exchange numbers and Emma’s face lights up as she’s getting off her Muni owl: it’s a text from him.

It doesn’t take long for his contact name to acquire an Emoji heart next to it, the girl who ridiculed these kinds of things in high school now finding herself enamoured, head-over-heels, and not caring for the criticisms of formerly cynical self.

[ OCTOBER ] A month later and she’s packed up and moved into his place, about as happy as she has ever been of late; everything in life falls into place with him, just makes sense.

[ NOVEMBER ] He gets エマ tattooed on his collarbone; her name in katakana. She gets 23, his lucky number.

They spend thanksgiving with her mom in Cupertino. Frankie hasn’t seen Emma this animated again in a long time, composes a poem about in her head as the green beans and pumpkin pie are passed around. Later of course, she pulls out the baby photos, much to Emma’s embarrassment and Tomo’s delight. “You were such a fat baby, Jesus,”  Tomo laughs. “She looks like she ate baby Jesus,” her mother quips.

When her mom falls asleep, they sneak out and climb up Emma’s childhood treehouse armed with blankets. They gaze at a sliver of night sky through a gap in the roof as Emma tells him her childhood dreams of flying to space and inventing computers that could contact extraterrestrial life. They kiss, they make love, Emma ponders her stance on marriage being outdated and for chumps and losers next to a snoring Tomo.

[ FEBRUARY 2015 ] Their first Valentine’s day together they drop acid at Pier 39. An irate parent yells at them for making out on the merry-go-round in view of children; have they no shame.

She makes new friends, dozens, someone always at their place as Tomo plays them new tracks, smoke weed together, and watch the oil projector light show make shapes on the ceiling. They talk about the future, fame, and world domination.

They don’t discuss babies because neither of them care for that sort of shit — but they do talk about moving into a bigger place together, maybe getting a dog or two — the breed is subject of many arguments.

[ MARCH ] In peak puppy fever, Emma adopts a two year old rescue bulldog named Tito. It’s the first, tiny sign of a crack in their relationship, of dissent — she thinks she sees Tomo glare at the precious pup when he thinks she isn’t looking. But maybe she imagined it. He does shed and slobber uncontrollably after all, and her boyfriend happens to be a clean freak.

[ JULY ] That summer, Emma braves a plane once more to see Tomo play in Atlanta. His set is off the walls and for the first time, she is amazed to see just how many fans he has, how far this boyfriend of hers has come from making tracks in his living room. It’s just too bad she is fast asleep when he tiptoes out of their hotel room to meet one of said fans for a back-alley blowjob.

They roadtrip across the South to play some more venues and the pattern repeats itself in Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico. She wakes up in a cold sweat one night in Vegas, confused as to why he’s gone. “Out getting food. Got hungry.” The message hits her in a weird place, but she is tired, sleepy, and in a haze; Emma accepts, does not question. He even returns with some Taco Bell for her.

Timeskip — 3 years:

[ APRIL 2018 ]

Emma is on her hands and knees in a bathroom, vomit dripping off the toilet rim. She can’t remember how or why she got here, but she’s here. Everything seems to be swimming backwards. Eventually she is able to collect herself off the floor, splash water against her face and wall-to-wall stagger back out of the bathroom. It didn’t work, she’s purged the worst of it but still feeling funny. “Oh, Emma, there you are.” A man’s hands wrap around her. He says he’s friends with Tomo. Says he’ll take her to him. Fade to black.

Waking up with strange bruises should not become a norm, but it does. Emma dismisses it, goes to work, does her best.

Things with Tomo are a violent rollercoaster; some days are great, some days nondescript; and some days downright nightmarish. They fight, throw shit, break shit, yell at each other. Things almost border on the unacceptable as words turn into threats, threats turn to action. A hand around the throat; a body pinned to the wall — her body, of course. His weed grinder he threw that hit her in the head which he swore he’d meant to only toss at the wall. It never crosses a line into the unacceptable, though. That’s what Emma tells herself. He might push her down on the bed, sure, but a bed was soft. He might squeeze her throat in the heat of an argument, but never so much that she’s passing out. He doesn’t hit, kick, or punch her. That was what abusers did, not him. 

She tells herself he can’t help it, his mother used to punish him and his father didn’t love him and now he lashes out the only way he knows how, on the only person he can. He didn’t grown up in as loving a home like she did. He had his reasons. It was okay. They were okay. And the makeup sex afterwards? The best ever.

[ MAY 2018 ]  A month later and Emma is walking in on some girl riding Tomo’s dick like the world was ending, right there on their couch. On their goddamn couch they picked out together, hauled up the stairs with the delivery men. Somehow, the worst part about it all, Emma’s fucked up brain tells her, is that Tito is there to witness it. Her innocent, furry son, witnessing his ‘dad’ for all intents and purposes, cheating on his mom. A ridiculously thought but one she has nonetheless as she’s driving away, Tito next to her in the passenger seat. She goes to sleep at a friend’s and sobs the entire night.

Despite herself, she doesn’t break up with him; but the rift is a mile wide and constantly palpable. Tomo becomes relentlessly apologetic. Not only does he beg forgiveness, he does it live on-air at a radio station, on social media, Emma bombarded by strangers she doesn’t know writing her to take him back. Then he goes and uses her personal kryptonite pulls a Lloyd Dobler outside her work with a Cocorosie song she was absolutely weak for. She hates making a public scene but the sentimental part of her is melting at the gesture, the boombox, all of it. Emma stays. He’d been a shitbag, but he was her shitbag, with all his lovable and terrible qualities wrapped into one person, and she just had to take the shit with the good. Because there was no one else she’d rather be with, ripping side-stitches from too much laughter at four in the morning, tears in her eyes for a good reason this time, from one of his horrifying jokes. 

He was hers and she was his, that’s just how it was to be. Well, as much as she could call him hers when he seemed to be everybody else’s in the process.

Emma does ridiculous, degrading, uncomfortable things in the name of love, and yet in the end she can’t hold on to the love she had for him in the beginning. Way back when they were going up on that ferris wheel at the pier and he looked at her like he had nothing but love in this world, for her. That was what hurt the most, because now the ferris wheel only went down.

There are threesomes, fivesomes, sixsomes, so many bodies in between hers and the one she loves, all in the name of exciting him, holding onto him, trying to be something for him that measured up to Enough. But none of it is enough. None of it makes him happy, nor did it make her happy. She gives him an inch and he takes a mile and then demands more, smiling with blood in his mouth.  She breaks down and becomes something she doesn’t recognize in the mirror. Whether it was an act of revenge or desperation, or finally wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, Emma sleeps with Corey, one of his best friends. She takes pictures, sends them to him “by accident”. She hates herself through it all, every moment of it, mostly for what he made her into. And yet, underneath all the layers of attempts at hurting him she was really just crawling on all fours, begging him to love her again, need her and want he the way he did in the beginning. Craving to get that first hit back, the one she had been on a residue high off of for four years, the one that now tasted metallic and rancid in her throat.

The worst part? Tomo doesn’t care. He texts her back, telling her to have fun, to send more pictures. She’s never felt this hollow, this empty, this non-entity of a being. The day of her high school graduation flashes in her mind, her dad telling her to never lose her identity, the core of what made her, her. Emma took that core and probably threw it into the Pacific. Somewher between Japan and California, it lies at the bottom of the ocean. 

[ APRIL 2019 ]

Turns out, Emma could draw a line, and that line was becoming accessory to a drug deal. She knew Tomo sold on the side to make up for all the money going into the records, but it had always been a few pills here and there, nothing big. But this? Fentanyl, Xanax, bricks of coke and hash? It was a lot. It was too much.

He sells the drugs and her to go with it, and that’s the end right there. The package she delivers to the apartment he asks her to deliver it to turns into a hostage situation, and she leaves hours later, bruises and caked blood on her. She can’t go home, doesn’t want to. She wants to jump off the bridge she’s crossing from Oakland back to the city. Any bridge, any of them would do. She understands why people jump from the Golden Gate now, or maybe always had. She was there now, climbing the railings, she was ready. She wanted that plunge so badly, would be sad to leave one parent, but good to be reunited with the other. Maybe there she’d be happy, maybe there she’d find peace. 

She calls Ben that night. She’s dry eyed and unemotional, but as soon as she gets the right words, verbalizes her situation, she’s sobbing again. Tomo is out of the city, across the country in Philly on tour. Now was the time, if there was any time for it. She’s not even done with the call when Ben is getting in his car to drive to her. It’s 6 hours from Ojai to San Francisco; he tells her he’ll be there in five. She never deserved a friend like him and never would, Emma thinks as she packs, hastily because somehow Tomo walking through the front door as a ‘surprise’ wouldn’t be out of the question. In the end, she can’t pack everything, has to leave so much behind, her records, books, knickknacks. Five years in this apartment and she’s leaving all of it behind, making a getaway in the middle of the night like some kind of burglar.

By three in the morning he’s here, and they get to packing her suitcases in the car, stacking them as best as they fit in his trunk and backseat, all of Tito’s things and then Tito on a bed in the seat in the back. Emma is in busy mode, stacking and packing everything as fast she can, still somewhere in the back of her mind thinking Tomo would appear at the last minute, and how with Ben here, things could get ugly. She doesn’t want them to get ugly. She loved him far too much to see him have to deal with Tomo, the only person in that specific firing line should be her and no one else.

They drive off. She only feels herself unclench an hour out of Daly City, somewhere in between the Bay and Southern California, where she can exhale. She’s still looking behind them constantly, wondering if every passing car could somehow be him. The saddest, most desperate part of all this that a part of her wants him to have followed. One last ditch attempt to get her back. An all out attempt, one where he would get on both knees and apologize, swear to never be this way again and follow through with it, because he was her person, he was her only person, there was nobody else in this world for her but him, but what do you do when you had to run from your person in the dead of night?

She pulls her raincoat tighter when they stop to get gas, a cold and windy middle of nowhere gas station. She’s not sure how she ends up embracing him, but they’re in it, and feeling someone’s arms around her, somebody that actually cares, who’d never hurt her, who was family, was her mom and his sister and everybody she loved rolled into one, feels like a reprieve. She feels like dirt for making him do this, making him worry, Emma was a piece of shit for that.

She says as much. He tells her to shut up, that she’s nothing like that and this was nothing that he wouldn’t have done for her on any night, any time at all. And maybe that, that was the night she fell in love with him a little bit, or realized she had always been, all along, but God likes to play Lucifer’s games with the little lives he watches over, and it wasn’t made to be, too late anyway since she’d left her heart in somebody else’s hands where it would stay. And he doesn’t need a mess like her anyway, just thinking of the name Catarina was enough. It had been five years but she still remembered the day like yesterday. How low he had been back then. How they would get high together and feel miserable together because at least they had that. They had Weetzie too, but she hadn’t experienced loss like they had, she sympathized but she’d never know what this particular slice of hell was like. But Ben and Emma knew. She knew it in that part of her ribs that met his, and she did not know what she would do if she didn’t have that, have Ben Abrams in her life. 

[ MARCH 2021 ]

Fast forward two years, and the ex is in town. Here, in Los Angeles. That very ex you worked so hard to forget, to heal from, to act like he wasn’t there. And yet, reminders of him were constantly there, everywhere. She doesn’t tell her friends, doesn’t tell anybody he’s in town, just balks when his so called best friend turns up in her neighborhood. She nearly grabs Tito and runs the other way, but it had been too late for that and they have a forced, awkward catch-up. He’s oblivious to anything happening, had barely known about her and Tomo breaking up. Figures, Emma thought, that he would act like nothing happened at all.

He’s in town, and every day she goes to work dreading something happening. She thinks she sees him outside the tattoo parlor’s window, but it’s someone else entirely. She’s losing it again, losing sleep, falling prey to her nightmares. Has a boyfriend now but even that doesn’t help, if anything, he’s a guilty reminder of just how little progress she had made, because she couldn’t devote the time and attention somebody like that needed in her life. Not when all she could think about was him.

The worst part is that once he’s long gone again, back up north, she’s feeling that hollow feeling again. Feeling upset that he didn’t seek her out, didn’t come see her. Even though she knew what an unmitigated disaster that would’ve been, the horrible, rotten part of her wanted it. Of course it wanted it. Two years and her skin still itched for him like an addict longing to be in the throes of fullblown relapse. But he didn’t track her down, call, or text, and that was that. Her only run-in with him involves a party flyer papered on a wall, his name in big stylized letters as the headlining DJ at the club. She stares at that flyer for a little too long, it burns itself in her eye like she’d looked at the sun for too long. And then she does the worst thing she could probably do, go on instagram. Only to find he has a new girlfriend. A brunette with tattoos who looked fun and flirty and everything she had been all those years ago.

That was the last tip of the scale. She reactivates her Tinder, finds some half okay looking guy, makes plans to meet him that night. It’s terrifying, so terrifying going through with, but she gets sufficiently drunk, then high on top of that, and goes through with it. Thinking of another boy’s name the entire time, his face, his body, hands and all the rest. Twelve hours later she’s leaving his apartment, no longer the nun of two years she’d become and feeling shitty about that on top of everything else. It was probably time to go see Karen again she thinks, smoking a cigarette under the sun that melts her while waiting for her Uber home. Thanks friends, thanks family, I’ve made terrific process with all your help and am now back to square one. Thanks for everything.  

Maybe in a decade’s time. 

Maybe she’d be over it by then.  

[aion-rsa]

Stath Lets Flats: a Brilliant Sitcom Antidote to Bland Comedy

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As you’ll know if you haven’t set your Netflix account to stop autoplaying previews, a lot of comedy writing isn’t really comedy writing at all, but writing in the shape of comedy. There are rhythmic set-ups and punch lines and pauses for laughter, but what’s being said is… words. There’s every appearance of a joke, but nothing inside, just a vacuum where a joke might go. It’s the TV equivalent of void-fill foam starch packing peanuts; technically edible but with zero nutritional value.

And then there’s Stath Lets Flats, a comedy so rich in nutrients you could live off it for well over a year. Which fans have had to, because the brilliant second series which won all the awards Bafta could give it, aired all the way back in summer 2019. Series three arrives today, after a delay due to the pandemic and the packed schedules of its increasingly in-demand cast. 

That cast includes creator Jamie Demetriou, who plays inept Greek-Cypriot lettings agent Stath; Natasia Demetriou, who plays his dopey would-be singer sister Sophie; Katy Wix as career-minded Carole, who’s what would happen if you put all of the female contestants on The Apprentice into a blender and froze the results into a human-shaped ice lolly; Kiell Smith-Bynoe as the perpetually exasperated Dean; Ellie White as bad girl Eastern European lady postman Katia; and Al Roberts as Al, a man so self-effacing that if you ran him over, he’d apologise for denting your car. There are many, many more, including new series three guest stars Julia Davis and Charlie Cooper, who each bring their own specific oddness to play. 

Specificity is what makes Stath Lets Flats a delight. It’s a workplace comedy with a singular vision and tone. There’s nothing bland or cookie-cutter about its characters or performances, none of whom we’ve quite encountered before. In Stath, there may be a little of David Brent’s awkward attempts to be a smooth operator, a little of Frank Spencer’s childlike ineptitude, a little of Basil Fawlty’s explosive rage or even Manuel’s utter cluelessness… but he’s his own thing, an inimitable creation. 

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Inimitable is right, because Stath impressions are devilishly hard to do. It’s not just the delivery but the confounding dialogue which speaks to what must be an obsessive level of attention to detail from writer Demetriou. Stath doesn’t just get English wrong, he speaks in a wild, vertiginous style that suggests his brain is always two steps behind his mouth, which itself is three steps behind anybody else in a conversation. Stath speaks like a man juggling, but who doesn’t know what juggling is. He’s desperate to say the kinds of things that cool Americans say in cool American films and cool American R&B songs, but is bewildered by words and by imagination. He has far too many of the former, and none of the latter which makes him in awe of anybody who does.

Stath’s hero-worship of the most mundane characters (Al, Sophie) is one of Stath Lets Flats’ many inversions of the received sitcom voice. So much comedy writing involves characters making waspish swipes and exchanging ‘witty’ put-downs that get oohs from the audience but are ignored by other characters in-world. In Stath Lets Flats, nobody speaks in urbane puns or witticisms, but the merest attempt at a joke is met by an uproarious reception. What’s really funny isn’t how sparkling the dialogue is, but how earnest the characters are. When Al tells Sophie that her “contribution to the arts in the UK could be so huge,” it’s hilarious because he means it, and well, we’ve all heard Sophie’s songs. Stath’s honest belief that unassuming Al is “the top man in London” whose every word is conversational gold is an endearing character trait and another stroke of genius from the show (there are 34 strokes of genius in total, from Carole’s milk-based diet to Al’s fluency in Japanese. See diagram below for details).  

Endearing character traits for Stath were in short supply in series one, something rectified in the second run which offered more of the character’s clueless vulnerability than his clueless aggression. Series two also developed the love story between Sophie and Al, two characters that anyone would be desperate to see together (the sex, the babies, the supermarket shop, I want to watch it all). The second run also ended with a dramatic event that shows Stath Lets Flats breaking even further out of the traditional sitcom mould, presaging excellent things for series three. 

With carefully pitched performances, extremely detailed writing, and an unerring devotion to what’s actually funny as opposed to what sounds like it’s funny, Stath Lets Flats is everything that empty, packing peanut sitcoms aren’t: novel, surprising, unique and quite obviously a labour of love. A absolutely comedy. 

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Stath Lets Flats series 3 starts on Channel 4 on Tuesday the 26th of October at 10.15pm. All episodes will be available to stream on All4 after broadcast. 

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