#30s also good and 60s had its moments

[murderballadeer]

baffled at how 1990s keeps winning "best decade for fashion" polls like is it just bc more people on here are old enough to remember it? bc if you ask me it's very obvious that the best decades of the 20th century for fashion were the 1900s, the 1950s and the 1970s

[autism-corner]

thank FUCK im quitting

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

Pretty sure that the reason Stan Pines, in the last act of Gravity Falls, not only falls for and fails cons, but also acts far more impulsive and self-centered and impulsively money-grabbing than he usually does...

... probably has something to do with Ford returning, effectively telling Stan to "Get your shit and get out" after summer ends.

And that's... after 30 years of Stan doing whatever he can to rescue Ford, and keep himself, afloat. After over 10 years of homelessness, scrapping buy, crossing criminal lines (..and probably going to Columbia to dodge the Vietnam Draft).

And the man is like 60 something.

Stan was probably having some severe PTSD flashbacks the entire time, made worse by age, and the additional add on that his work of literal decades, with focus on family and surviving, came out to Nothing and he was about to get thrown back to square one, do not pass go.

I'd be tripping up all over everything to. Its a testament to his skill as a entertainer and shyster that he wasn't falling apart at every hour.

==

On the Flipside....

Ford has spent the last 30 years on the run. He's wasn't just lost in another dimension, he was lost into the whole multiverse.

( Though, implied to be more akin to running into realms where the natural laws or histories are different--as opposed to parallel earths. So a bit like teleporting to Xen in Half Life.)

With the distinct implication that when he fell into another dimension... he kept falling into them.

( Think on it. It took a entire portal meant to destabilize the universe in order to dimension hop in the first place. That sort of thing doesn't just pop up at K-mart; when he went through the super-duper portal, it kept portalizing him over the course of 30 years. )

So Ford had no place he could stay long, without the possibility of him getting teleported, or noclipping or Something (we have no idea on the details--but the speculation of implication is fun), immediately forcing him to adapt to a new environment with new rules whenever it happened.

As such, we now have a guy who is good to go on a moments notice and has everything he needs on him at all times.

So if he was to return through the portal and finally find a home, a stable home, and he himself no longer has to fear getting transportalized at random moments; he'd definitely would fight tooth, claw and gods knows what else to keep that home.

And probably, again running with the implications and the world-build set up Gravity Falls had going by this point, suffering his own traumas. By going back through the portal to his own home dimension, there Shouldn't be a worry about getting grabbed and thrown into another dimension again, but after years of dealing with it--the fear and anticipation of it would also produce some serious PTSD.

( Even though we never had Ford around long enough to really explore it... or really to give him as much depth and character as Stan got. All of this about Ford is speculation by implication after all. )

It would explain why he would get so pushy about things and situations (beyond the simple "Plot Plot Plot" writing so the show can hit Weirdmaggedon as fast as possible); if you've had to get dragged into another dimension at a moments notice and at random, you adapt to lack of time and thus, push to get as much done as possible in as small time as you can.

[ It also explains why Ford is just so damn cool headed. After dimension hopping and meeting strange peoples, places, and systems--to return to this place, Earth. There is literally nothing on Earth that could possibly scare him at this point, he's already experienced the worst ]

And that isn't to mention how Ford also suffered Stan's old situation. Homeless, often Penniless (Because what's money worth between dimensions, after all?) and no possible permanent companions to speak of.

To Ford, jumping from place to place is something he's already adapted to and excelled at, so he doesn't even consider Stan's situation in the slightest. To Ford, moving around on Earth isn't anything in comparison to being flung across spacetime into new physics and new atmospheres.

==

There's prolly going to be quite a few arguments and adjustments on the Stan O War 2 before the two can fully understand where each other is coming from.

[randomyuu]

so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

[sideblogdotjpeg]

feeling like. ep 60 was such a fantastic arc finale battle ep. and auugh. like so many things. LIKE .

the slow build up of tension over the ep felt really good and perfect, as it escalates from alexandrite being silly and goofy to. gargantuan cyberflesh horror. and how the dice were UNCANNILY perfect for it all. like. the nat 1 vs nat 20 roll for the town and suddenly the entire mood shifts and the stakes are so much realer, and personal. followed up by the nat 20 for the town! followed up by TWO callie crits and her dealing 130 DAMAGE like each turn!!!! like!!!!! AUGH... the. just the beats of it all was soo good and.

tying to that .. the character moments for this ep were so good !!! every character got their moment to shine in the battle. already discussed callie absolutely whomping fucking ass, but of course the smaller moments as well. offering to go and defend calders town. seeing the faewild sky and "i think i needed to leave to become worthy of it" - like and as the culmination of callies arc. from someone who was so scared and running away to. staying, standing, fighting, protecting. AND ITS GOOD.

then of course theres calder. i mean also the . ARC. of the only thing he wanted was not to be overprotected. wanting to be useful - like his brothers, people who had strength and value in the eyes of their people, big enough to defend their town. and he has come all the way here. he changes the tides of the battlefield in the town - and he does it with the attachments of his friends and the love of his family. and like... god. really crystalising his ethos in a way that is foiled so well against gowan. gowan who was too proud to ask for help. vs "i cant do it without you" "but damn does it feel good when your friends have your back" ... !!!! AYYEARGH. like. hes becoming the protector of his home! but maybe now, his home is so much bigger than the ice knife, and hes not fighting alone .... YOU KNOW.

AND SOL!!!!! sol to my knowledge only deals 30 damage this battle but. as a resident sol enjoyer i !!! am VERY MUCH CLAPPING AND CHEERING!! at the deeply supportive role he took on for this fight. like hes the first to get the ice knife away from alexandrite, he gives callie an extra smite, silvery barbs.... ! like the short rest realisation of how different the battle wouldve gone without that silvery barbs is .... ! SO ITS GOOD. and at the end that he was the one to get the final blow on alexandrite and it was for swag is ...

and! that part was obviously a joke! as is the entire "keep em guessing haha alexandrite cant predict what were doing!!!" thing. HOWEVER. relistening to the ezry arc, and their first interaction w alexandrite as we now know her ... i just. REALLY feel like this is the spiritual successor to "were duck team and were messy and were friends and we do everything together and we absolutely suck shit all day long and all night baby". theyre so fucking stupid is the thing. and theyre messy and stupid and constantly saying things that are weird and make no sense and completely and utterly baffling .... and thats DUCK TEAM!!! (theres also a point here where im overreading somewhat. but the part about Keepin em Guessin... one could POSSIBLY argue it interacts in a MAYBE DEEPLY INTERESTIGN WAY with . the idea of the calculated certainty of the AI, the calm and cold prediction of the diviners, and the wild freedom of the peregrines. idk!!! maybe!!! maybe you cld even say that what lies at the heart of duck team is their messiness and outofplaceness and love and care and refusal of the tragedy!!! even!! maybe!! but YEAH. lol random XD ! keep em guessin!)

also the thing that made me write all this which is like. ! the final victory lap scene is just. so wonderfully cathartic, esp with how tense this entire arc has been. its just. fuck yeah we won and all our friends and family are here and safe and riding on mammoths!!! i mean. FUCKING ALBINS BACK!!!! GREGORS HERE AND KICKIN ASS!!! THE MA GOBLIN BRIGADE!!! A WIN. and ... that bit of callie just sitting on the roof playing a guitar as she stares into the fae wild sky is ... its good.. its good..

and all that is maybe. half the reasons why ep 60 is so good. i didnt even get around to talking about the fucking EMILY AXFORD SONG WHICH IVE BEEN PLAYING NONSTOP ALL DAY SO. yeah. so i like this ep i guess

[pokemon-card-of-the-day]

Pokemon Card of the Day #3252: Blastoise-GX (Unbroken Bonds)

Blastoise-GX was a Pokemon that could hit really hard, but the set-up was such that it was unlikely to do it twice. This was due to the need to shuffle tons of Energy back into the deck, when drawing into said Energy again, accelerating it all back into play, and redoing the attack was rather unlikely. That being said, the attack itself was absurdly powerful with enough Energy in play, to the point that it couldn't be dismissed as a one time big hit. It was also an interesting attack on a Pokemon-GX, and in this era with Mewtwo & Mew-GX available that meant a second spot to possibly land. Yes, the attack required Water Energy in play, but there were ways around that.

240 HP was pretty much expected on a Stage 2 Pokemon-GX, and it even had an Ability to make that even sturdier. Getting a clean KO on a Blastoise-GX was quite rare indeed. The Grass Weakness wasn't even that bad considering how poor the type was at the time. Blastoise-GX got most of its play just after the Sword & Shield set was released and Grass was basically a dead type at that moment. The Retreat Cost was the only bad stat here. 3 Energy was a lot to ask, so you'd want a way to switch out if you were actually playing Blastoise as itself and not just to call up its attack from the discard pile.

Solid Shell was a simply Ability that had Blastoise-GX take 30 less damage from attacks. This meant that even an ADP boosted Zacian V would need chip damage to take this out from full, for example. 150 was needed to take this down in 2 hits, which most major decks did get to. Blastoise-GX was not going to be an easy 2 Prizes.

Rocket Splash required 2 Water Energy, at least technically. Your damage was based on how many Water Energy attached to your Pokemon in play you shuffled into your deck, and 60 was done for each. If you could get 5-6 Energy into the deck like this, even Tag Teams and VMAXes were falling. That was generally the goal with Blastoise-GX, though taking out another Pokemon was really hard since you gave up so much Energy and you then both had to draw into it again and accelerate it all. Accelerating could be done with Frosmoth, but drawing into that much Energy was a lot less likely.

The attack was, however, a good final hit for a deck that had other options. There was a sort of Mewtwo & Mew-GX deck that used Rainbow, Aurora, and Unit Energy to fuel all sorts of attackers, and Rocket Splash worked with all three of those. Blastoise-GX could just sit in the discard pile and provide one giant, game-winning hit while letting other attacks be called up while getting into position. This was probably the best use of this attack's strengths, avoiding the fact that it was not going to be able to repeat the trick again altogether. This did need careful Energy placement to avoid having things Knocked Out with tons of Energy attached, however, so it wasn't perfect.

Giant Geyser GX needed a Water Energy and simply let you attach as many Water Energy from your hand to your Pokemon however you wanted. The only advantage to this over just using Frosmoth is that technically you could attach the Energy to any type of Pokemon with this. If you were playing in a format without Sword & Shield cards, this at least gave you some backup plan once, but you'd realistically not be doing that.

Blastoise-GX needed card drawing and acceleration to be used on its own, and even then it wasn't something you could reliably attack with twice. Rocket Splash was its only move, after all, and as explosive as it could be, you had to have something more than that and a Stage 2 being used as a one-time hitter was iffy at best at the time. On the other hand, being discard fodder for Mewtwo & Mew-GX had a regional win and then some good online results while the pandemic blocked all in-person events, as having that many sorts of Special Energy that could work as Water let other things work and Blastoise-GX was just there as a possible game-winning play. It was being used for that where this Pokemon shined, and while it wasn't the most common take on Mewtwo & Mew, it was certainly something that could work out well.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap DocM77, 6/23/24

((A quick content advisory on this stream, Doc and his chat get into an involved and sometimes contentious discussion on the "Man or Bear" thought experiment between 1:11:00 and 1:35:00. I have omitted nearly all of it from this recap because it is literally impossible to fairly and fully recap that kind of discussion in this kind of format and also I didn't want to. Timestamps made during the discussion discuss what Doc was doing, but not what was being talked about.))

9:22 Doc brings his stream live with 52 seconds left on his 10 minute stream-start countdown clock. He is in his studio view and comments that the light appears to be getting pinker than ever. He doesn’t think it used to be quite this pink. Chat agrees that it is very pink. Doc thanks subs and donos from the countdown. Doc’s studio really is exceptionally pink. He makes an adjustment that might help a small amount. Chat is skeptical that anything changed. Doc is streaming on a Sunday today and that’s good, gives a chance to some viewers who might not be available on Saturday. He explains that he had thought the birthday party Doccy was invited to was today, but in fact it was yesterday. It was a good time except a kid almost broke Doc’s nose while playing on the playground with water. He got smacked in the face with a bucket. Chat is sympathetic but also laughing. Today Doccy is off visiting Grandma.

13:30 A chatter asks what happened to the rainbow beacon. Doc reveals that he eventually got tired of fixing it ((Something about the daily server reset was killing the beacon every day, Doc and Xisuma had been working on a way to fix it.)) and Bdubs eventually landscaped over it when he built the courthouse. The beacon is there in spirit, and may be rebuilt somewhere else later.

14:20 Doc brings up Hermitcraft, or tries to. It is a black screen. Things are working great in this professional stream environment, says Doc. He restarts Minecraft, saying this is a problem that happens occasionally. Today, he tells Chat, they get to share Doc’s daily experience of logging on and wondering if anything has been stolen. The alarm system is good, but not foolproof. The Ore Snatcher could use tools like chorus fruit and wool blocks in a risky ploy to steal another block. Doc’s paranoia has reached new heights, but he is also distracted because OBS is still not detecting Minecraft. He troubleshoots it.

17:10 Minecraft appears, but Doc has to fiddle with it some more before it will display properly with facecam and overlay. He logs on, telling Chat more about his daily fear. He logged out above the shop and cannot hear an alarm, so that’s good! He checks for a released warden and finds it in its place, then checks for newly missing blocks. Doc and Chat agree that there are no new missing blocks. Doc sings a smug song of satisfaction and dances on the grave of the Ore Snatcher. He is happy, but commenters have made him paranoid that maybe the Ore Snatcher hit the redstone in Big Wood. He will not feel okay until he checks.

21:00 Doc conducts a thorough survey of the Big Wood redstone. He has gotten a lot more sand paid into the shop and does not find any missing ore blocks, so is in a very good mood. He tells Chat that he has a new, lower sub goal that reflects the fact that the high rollers in Chat can’t keep making huge sub drops. As Doc returns to the trim shop, he responds to chat’s concerns that if the Ore Snatcher stops, nobody might ever know who it was. Doc tells Chat that he specifically designed the alarm system to be not-quite-impenetrable, that someone who is really dedicated… He trails off when the overlay does a strange thing, then takes a moment to thank more subs and his favorite of the Single Ladies. He picks up the thread and tells chat there are ways someone smart and dedicated (Cub, he is pretty sure) could get into the system. Doc is 60% sure at this point that it is Cub. Not many people could be so dedicated, careful and tricky just to piss Doc off, but Cub is just that kind of guy.

25:20 The Bdubs-shrieking phantoms are starting to come out now, so it is time to go inside. Doc switches back to studio view so Chat cannot see the Secrets of the Sand Pile. Chat is pretty on board with the Cub thing, they agree that Cub is the type to keep his pranks quiet and incredibly annoying. Doc disables the Warden alarm and enters into his redstone, only to discover that his secret door is not working. He does some yelling. He freecams around to see if that tricky Ore Snatcher has been at it again, but the cause is benign, a simple mistake probably caused by all the sleep Doc is losing lately. He breathes a sigh of relief but is still annoyed on principle. With the alarms disabled he can break the wall of his shop and access the bed he’s got hidden in the unfinished alcove back there.

27:50 Today Doc must, absolutely must, finish the interior decoration of the shop. He wants to have more armor pieces laying around like T-shirts set out for sale in a clothing shop, but he can’t figure out how to make it work. A chatter activates text-to-speech. Doc is pleased that it is working again. He tells Chat that next week he will be recording the Imp and Skizz podcast, something he’s really looking forward to. He tells Chat that Impulse has asked him what sorts of things he wants to talk about and asks for ideas. Chat thinks they should talk about who the Ore Snatcher is, and suggests that Doc should be as unhinged as possible. Doc asks if he’s allowed to swear, Chat says not much. They suggest no politics or talk about Elon Musk, so as to avoid a podcast that is a hundred hours of Doc ranting, and they want to hear Doc’s dad lore and stories about his basketball career. It could also be an opportunity for Doc to plug his interest in trying out the Life Series. Doc agrees that’s worth thinking about, then gets distracted talking about soccer/football with Chat.

31:20 Chat reminds Doc that his mic is hot. Doc says he likes the hot mic, but he turns it off so Chat will calm down about it. The shopping district is not exactly buzzing on a Sunday morning anyway. Doc points out that this is his area on the server and if people come near him they will hear him speak, just like in real life. This is apparently enough to convince himself and he turns the mic right back on again and goes back to talking sports. He once again declares victory over the Ore Snatcher, but says that the worst outcome would indeed be if the shenanigans stop and they never find out who did it. That would drive Doc and Chat extra crazy. Chat points out that if it is Cub, he has been known not to fess up to pranks for years.

33:20 Chat brings up the problem of shulker boxes to Doc. If a Hermit is using a wallet box and places it down to pay, how would they pick it up again without setting off the alarm. Doc is not worried because the alarm’s not going to be on all the time, and it’ll only be there for as long as the Ore Snatcher is active. So yes, basically anyone who tries to pay will set off the alarm. Doc is distracted by voice-to-text again, then decides what he really needs to do is talk to Xisuma. He searches up Xisuma’s coordinates and heads over there. Doc had ruled out Xisuma from the get-go because X is generally a peaceable guy, but now he has to investigate everyone. He flies down to land at X’s base, singing the “X gonna give it to you” song but replacing X with “Goat.”

34:50 Doc goes into the base and looks around. X is not visible but does tell Doc in chat that he made him jump with the singing. Doc continues searching and calling out, acknowledging that he can be really annoying when he wants to be. He finally spots Xisuma, on the path outside his base and begins a friendly and unsubtle interrogation. X says he has a great alibi, he hasn’t been on the server for the whole past week! Doc asks if he’s heard anybody talking about it, but X says only people in his chat speculating. Doc’s chat speculates that it could be Xisuma with the spelling errors, given that he could not remember how to spell “Field” during Wordle. Doc tells X about the alarm system, brags about his success, and worries that he’ll never learn the truth. Doc lays it on thick how much he trusts Xisuma and how he knows X would never-ever-ever do something like this because he’s such a nice and trustworthy guy. X agrees with this assessment and says it’s more likely that he would fix something he noticed off than break something, but does not come out and say that he is not the Ore Snatcher.

37:40 Doc agrees about X’s penchant for fixing things, but what about Evil X? Xisuma really can’t vouch for that guy, he’s liable to do anything. “But he’s not in the picture right now, right?” Doc asks. Xisuma is not sure, he doesn’t know what that guy gets up to while X is away, and he’s just mentioned being gone all week. Doc tells X that he’s pretty sure Ren is innocent. Ren is too busy; when he’s deep into the lore he can’t think about pranks. Scar is the police and the police can be corrupt, but Doc has interviewed him several times now and either Scar is innocent or Doc has vastly underestimated his skills as a smooth and plausible liar. Xisuma suggests maybe it could be someone who wants to earn Doc’s business… someone who has just built a courthouse and needs cases to be moving through it. Neither X nor Doc can really take Bdubs seriously as the Ore Snatcher. Doc points out that unlike some bored people (cough GRIAN cough), Bdubs is pretty much always grinding and building when he is online. But Grian is actually very busy right now and was on vacation, plus he is already involved in a whole snail-prank situation that neither he nor X are very familiar with. Doc says it sounds like money laundering to him.

40:00 X admits to Doc that he himself has been accused of some shady financial behavior in relation to his trophy scheme, where the Hermits sell things in their shop, earn diamonds, and then send their diamonds straight to Xisuma in exchange for a trophy saying how many diamonds they earned. Doc says that sounds like a Bitcoin scam to him. Chat is debating with itself about options like Grian, Gem and Etho for Ore Snatcher. X admits it may sound like NFTs, but the Hermits like it! Doc’s current suspicion list is Gem, Cub, and Joel, though Doc doesn’t really know him well enough for a real assessment yet. They had that interaction where Joel was clearly annoyed about having to shovel sand, and in Doc’s book that means motive. Honestly though, he has no real hints or clues to go on. He asks X to keep an ear out for the alarm in the shopping district and asks if there is a plug in they can add so Doc can get a cell phone ping if anyone comes near the shop. X reminds him that they try to do things the vanilla way on Hermitcraft. Doc walks off grumbling about “no sand duping, no phone monitoring, can’t do anything… this sucks.” Xisuma wishes him good luck.

42:00 Doc walks away and tells Chat that Xisuma is innocent and they all know it. Chat is batting around Jevin as a possible suspect. Doc insists he and Jevin are tight. He thanks subs and donos, then takes Chat over for a look at the new Poe Poe HQ that Scar just built. The new searchlight looks really cool at night. Doc still thinks it was almost certainly Cub. Chat suggests Impulse and Big Salmon, as well as Iskall, Joe Hills, Mumbo, Stress, Cleo, and the snails. Chat is not being super helpful at the moment, but they are full of enthusiasm and ideas. Doc says it’s not Beef and Chat will know why soon. ((This is one day before Beef makes the public announcement that he and his partner are expecting their first baby and he’s going to be very, very, very busy for the next little while!))

43:30 Doc forgets the inherent peril of every GoodTimesWithScar build and gets severely jumpscared by the creeper that sneaks up behind him. He’s not hurt but the front yard of Poe Poe HQ has lost some landscaping. Doc thinks that vandalizing Poe Poe HQ might not be the best move for a guy in his legal position, and it seems like the “SUE TODAY” banner on the courthouse might just be mocking him. He remembers that Scar’s building supplies chest monster hasn’t been picked up yet and goes to rummage through it for extra booshes. He finds some, but comes very, very, very close to blowing up Scar’s entire chest monster when another creeper pays a visit.

44:40 Doc uses freecam to show the now-underground broken rainbow beacon, buried under the road between the courthouse and the police station. The metaphor would be unbearably heavy-handed if it weren’t also obviously accidental. Doc replaces the destroyed bushes and takes a look at Poe Poe HQ by daylight, declaring it a really cool build. He laughs at the enormous POE sign and is confused by the sand countdown clock. Chat tells him it is counting down to the enforcement of the rule against popup shops in the shopping district. Doc wonders who made this, even as he finds a trapdoor with a sign reading “Ultra Redstoners Only.” Deciding he is definitely in that club, he enters without hesitation to check out the guts of the countdown machinery. He studies it for a moment and asks in complete befuddlement “Who _made_ this?” Hearing from Chat that it was Scar does explain a lot. Doc decides he had better leave before the redstone drives him insane.

46:40 Time to go back and work on interior design again. Doc does not want to do his interior design. He bemoans the fact that he got himself into a quarrel with Cleo, who would’ve been the perfect Hermit to tap for all the armor stand work he needs done but is now mad at him. He decides he should wander around and look for design ideas from other shops, because he is so uninspired. Chat suggests Joel has great interiors, so does Pearl. Doc admires Joel’s octopus but does not want one in his armor trim boutique. Chat thinks the octopus is amazing. Doc tells Chat they are useless. Chat doesn’t care; they want to go look at the Lizzie statue at Joel’s base. A chatter says they heard Doc was going to play Stardew Valley and is excited about it; Doc tells them he has played Stardew Valley through three times already. He’s exploited everything exploitable in that game and even made a tutorial for finding rare fish; Stardew Valley has nothing left for him.

49:00 Doc looks around in the honey shop for decoration ideas, but is disappointed to find no armor stand work to get inspired by. Chat wants to hear the song. Doc is unenthusiastic but plays the song. He goes on an entire facial journey as Chat grooves to the “Honey, Honey, Honey” song. “Jesus Christ,” Doc says. This puts Joel at the top of the suspect list as far as Doc is concerned. Anyone who could come up with that song is clearly capable of anything.

51:00 Further evidence of Joel’s potential villainy, putting his tree-trunk honey shop very close to the hourglass. Why would Joel put his wood thing next to Doc’s wood thing? Are they doing a wood comparison? Doc asserts that everyone knows Joel has small wood. Chat has a lot of feelings about this line of reasoning, most of which can only be expressed by emoji. Doc dismisses Joel’s wood shop as thicker, maybe, but stumpy, and then abandons all pretense and just mutters “smallishballs.” Chat is so upset.

52:10 Really though, at the end of the day Doc thinks it is Cub. And now it is time to hang up clothes in the armor trim shop. Chat reels momentarily from the quick change of topic, but gamely tries to help Doc decide what goes in a typical clothing shop. They suggest caps, a netherite chest plate, and a mapart of Karl Lagerfeld. Doc remembers he also wants to hang up his permit. He puts it up on his cash register and declares it good. Doc also has the dirt and rails permits he is not using just yet. One of the “single ladies” in chat demands shoes, Doc caters to the single ladies and adds a rack of shoes behind the counter.

57:00 Chat begins debating which types of shoes are best for the single ladies to wear. Doc places a pair of black boots, per chat request, and says he does not have a favorite type of shoe. Chat’s opinion on heels are divided, they don’t like how they feel but a short chatter points out that it is nice to be tall. Doc admits there are probably not any high heels available in his size, so he has never tried them. Chat could recommend him some places if he is interested. Chat says that for women, beauty is suffering. Doc agrees and says that is true for men as well! He recounts a time where he used waxing strips as part of a charity event; it has been four years and the hair has not fully regrown. He has to shave his legs now if he doesn’t want them to look patchy. Chat is sympathetic and also grateful that he specified legs. Doc says he was recently clocked as a waxer by another child’s mom at the swimming pool and could only defend himself with “It was for a good cause.”

1:00:00 Doc reads Chat and decides it is definitely time to stop talking about leg hair. He begins working on the armor stand boots again. He positions them on the rack and thanks subs again. Doc decides that the shoes will look better as high heels, but that requires quite a bit more manipulation. Chat provides advice and critique. They want red trim, so Doc pulls the boots off the armor stand and goes to the trim machine. Chat wants Dune trim in red, with red candles for heels. Doc wants to give Chat what they want, because it is important to make the ladies happy. Chat begins arguing amongst themselves over whether Hermitcraft-style Louboutins would have red candle heels or black candle heels. Doc wonders if there is a candle shop.

1:09:00 Chat finally starts trending in the black candle direction, so Doc heads for Papa Keralis’ shop. Doc likes that Keralis has the candle shop, he’d probably have one of those if he weren’t a YouTuber. He may look clueless but he is a very, very good businessman. Doc finds the disco at Keralis’ base and busts a few moves. He obliquely mentions some of the grooming controversies on YouTube lately and deflects any talk in that direction. A chatter says they would trust Doc with their drink. Doc and the rest of Chat agree that Doc would drink it. Doc cannot find the candle shop.

1:11:30 A chatter says they would pick Doc over the bear. This leads to a lengthy discussion with Chat over the man vs bear thought experiment. (“You are alone in the woods. Would you rather see a strange man or a bear?”) It is the sort of discussion that covers several controversial topics and is very difficult to recap accurately and with nuance by a recapper who is mostly interested in making funny jokes. For that reason (and because a detailed recap including Chat commentary might be triggering for some readers), it will not be covered here but can be viewed on the VOD.

1:19:00 Doc’s mod asks if Doc would still love them if they were a worm. Doc makes an unflattering “ehhhhhhhh” sound and then says he would still love their soul. He might also love them if they helped create good soil for the tomatoes. Doc remembers he was supposed to be finding the candle shop and making high heels for shoes. A chatter gives him directions to the candle shop. He is still distracted by his discussion, but purchases black candles and heads back to the armor trim shop.

1:25:00 Doc resumes work on the black and red high heels. He is not sure about the candle heel, it’s actually pretty big when he puts it on the armor stand, and not quite the same color. Chat reminds him that the stand can be made smaller, but the color is a tougher nut to crack. Doc wonders if a blackstone stair or a block of coal might do the job better. He might need to mine some blackstone.

1:30:00 A chatter asks if Doc is going to be collaborating with other streamers or Hermits to play other games on stream. Doc says Hermitcraft takes up all his time and energy, so probably not. He heads for the Nether and finds a patch of blackstone to mine. He comes back and makes some blackstone walls and tries on on the armor stand. It is not quite right either.

1:35:30 Doc tries a blackstone button instead, it seems better. Chat agrees that it seems good. A chatter comments on the ground that the conversation has covered today. Doc makes a joke about Brazilian Wax being the opposite of Big Bear. Chat misses the joke, but Doc knows he is funny. He has to get out his calculator to adjust the angles on the armor stand. Chat makes semi-helpful commentary on the angle of the shoe and the heel. The original chatter who requested the black high heels gifts two more subs and says they look great. Doc regrets his life choices in agreeing to make heels. They are not turning out the way he’d hoped. He swears a little and keeps manipulating the angle of the heel, then realizes he also doesn’t like the color. He blames the single moms.

1:43:10 A chatter asks if Doc would consider going to Twitchcon. Doc says the only good thing about cons like that is meeting the audience. He’s not interested in meeting other content creators except Hermits. He’s been to lots of events and mostly finds content creators loud and obnoxious. He tries an anvil, which is the wrong color. Chat suggests black glazed terracotta, end rods, coal blocks, and making the boots into Crocs instead of high heels. Doc tells them that if he tries the coal block and it works, then Chat is to blame for forty wasted minutes. He tries a piece of black dye and says it could be a beard, but not a heel. The question arises whether Chat would rather go to the woods with a spider or a bear. Doc is outraged when Chat continues to choose bear, though some savvy chatters are asking how big the spider is. It is an Australian spider, so probably pretty big.

1:46:50 Doc tries a blackstone block as a heel and continues regretting everything. He accidentally gives the armorstand his sword and destroys the thing in a fit of pique. He is about ready to give up on high heels. A chatter suggests it might be time to beg Cleo for forgiveness, but Doc will NEVER. A chatter suggests leaving the heels imaginary. A chatter suggests making the shoes roller skates.

1:49:20 Doc puts an Enderman head on the armor stand, then puts it in the stand’s hand. He can’t place it properly because of armor stand interference. He is doing a lot of under-the-breath muttering, but the only clear word is “stupid.” The heels are fine without actual heels on them. He remembers he has some mini diamond ore blocks and wants to put some around for decoration. Even this is much harder than anticipated because there are invisble armor stands everywhere. Doc has so many regrets. He does not seem to know the scroll-wheel trick for the armor stand mod. He successfully places the miniblock on a shelf.

1:53:40 Doc steps back and looks at the display. It looks all right. He decides to make some more leather armor and talks about how happy he’s going to be when he’s done with this interior. His next shop is going to be a hole in the ground. Chat suggests that maybe Cleo will feel bad for the heels and fix them. Doc doesn’t know if Cleo is a heel person or not. And he doesn’t know if he can trust Cleo in this shop, who knows what they might do! ((In Cleo’s stream a few hours later, they do notice and fix a number of armor stand problems, but not the heels in particular.)) Doc makes another hanging chestpiece to look like a shirt.

1:56:30 A chatter says the court case is going to be entertaining. Doc says it’s going to be crazy. He talks with a chatter about subs and donos. A chatter surprises Doc with voice-to-text. Doc talks about which chatters are “sugar daddy” or “sugar mama.” He does more hanging clothes along the back wall, using the copy-paste function on the armor stand mod. Several chatters make gifts of subs. Doc thanks them but reminds them that big donos are never required or expected, just appreciated. Doc notices one DCP chatter is not around anymore after the discussion earlier. A chatter tells him that the DCP are all busy drawing him waxing his legs.

2:02:00 A chatter asks what the DCP is, Doc explains it is the Doc Collaboration Project, the fanartists who originally came together to create the murals on the Perimeter but who also do a lot of Doc fanart and amplify and support one anothers’ art. He creates another hanging shirt.

2:05:30 Doc tells a story about Doccy learning to make rhymes in German. Doc told Doccy to take a bath, but Doccy would rather eat chocolate. Chat asks about the time when Doc used to have long hair. Doc says yes, it used to be over his shoulders in finger-thick dreadlocks. He has no pictures of this era, but his mother might. Back when Doc was young, people didn’t take pictures all the time like the kids these days. Doc has a picture of himself at a religious milestone ((He is not sure of the name in English, calls it communion but it sounds like it might be confirmation)) wearing tight leather pants and a blazer with enormous shoulder pads, plus steel-toed safety sole boots and dreadlocks. Eventually his beard started to grow in too, but only a soul patch. Chat is overwhelmed by this mental picture.

2:09:30 A chatter asks what the deal is in Germany with sparkling water. Doc doesn’t know, Europeans just love sparkling water. There’s lots of different kinds, and they prefer juice mixed with sparkling water to most soda. Doc likes apple juice and sparkling water. Chat is not sold on the merits of sparkling water and Doc can sympathize. A chatter mentions Twitter, Doc warns them not to mention anything about “Elmo” Musk, because that is worse than mentioning Disney to Scar. There will be ranting. A chatter talks about the Sodastream carbonation machine. Doc has one, he and Doccy both like it.

2:13:30 Doc starts organizing some of his strewn shulkers. He talks about his own drink, vitamin juice and sparkling water. Chat admires his glass. He puts diamond pants on the last armor stand, turns them into shorts and hangs them up. Doc and Chat talk about what kinds of fruit juices they like best. A chatter wants trims on the leather chestpieces, Doc doesn’t know about that. That wastes a lot of trims, but this is the trim shop.

2:17:00 Doc fancies up the hanging tunics. Chat provides suggestions for trims and materials. A chatter asks what will happen if the Ore Snatcher replaces the diamond ore miniblock with a deepslate miniblock. Doc tells Chat not to give the Ore Snatcher ideas. Chat and Doc both like the look of the trimmed outfits he is creating. Chainmail pants with redstone trim looks a lot like a neat skirt. A chatter suggests making the tops actually match the bottoms of the hanging outfits, but Doc is not very concerned about that.

2:24:00 Doc is getting into it now and begins trimming the outfits on the sculptures he created earlier. It’s something Louis Vuitton would do, he declares. He really likes the way trimmed chainmail looks. He makes a chainmail helmet and sets it on the shelf of the back wall.

2:29:20 The shop is good, but could use some paintings. Doc can’t remember how to make paintings. Chat reminds him of the recipe, but he has no wool. He has to go visit the Wolves of Wool Street. Chat awoos. Doc realizes that wool is sold by the four-stack and decides to go buy string instead. He only needs one wool block! Doc declares Bdubs’ 1 diamond per string stack a much superior deal to WoWS’s diamond block per four stacks of wool and hopes they don’t find out Bdubs is undercutting them.

2:32:00 A chatter asks if anyone is surprised that Doc hasn’t sworn yet. Doc asks what the fuck they are talking about, then covers his mouth. Chat is amused. A chatter does the math and points out that Bdubs is basically selling seven wool blocks worth of string for a diamond, making WoWS a consderably better deal. Doc manages to get the walking man painting in his shop and says it looks like it belongs in a clothes shop. He says Bdubs is still a better deal if you only want one block of wool. He hangs several more posters.

2:35:30 Doc declares that this is enough detail and the shop is finished. Chat agrees, this is enough. He notices two armor stands that still need clothes, but after that he is calling it done. But the shop should have some music, so it’s time to pick some! He starts testing songs. They are VERY LOUD. Doc and Chat bop along with the music. A chatter demands CBAT. A chatter suggests Soulside Eclipse. Doc finds a song called Top Ten (or Chop Ten?) and Chat agrees it is the best shopping vibe music yet. He goes out and comes into the store to see what it would be like to shop to this music, and immediately starts yelling at the imaginary shopkeeper to turn down the music, it’s way too loud and he just wants to buy some pants!

2:41:00 A chatter has a birthday. Doc sings an unintelligible version of Happy Birthday and tells them now they can feel like Pearl. He says he might hit Jono up for shop beats, or says anyone who wants to can hit him up on Twitter with some beats. Music is always a problem because there are lots of talented musicians and he’d like to feature more of them, but DMCA makes things really hard. Doc puts the music back on. It is still quite loud. The headphone chatters have feelings about it. Doc comes across a song that sounds like the guitar beginning to an early 2000s pop ballad and begins improvising words to it, seconds before a vocalist actually starts up with a not dissimilar theme. Doc is pleased to have been proven right; Chat thinks it’s hilarious.

2:45:00 Doc goes through more varieties of music, none of which are quite right. He tries “A Sitar Story” and likes it. Chat likes it too. Doc improvises an armor trim song to go with the music. It’s nice but very much in conflict with the visual theme of the shop. He tries a few more. A song with a strong beat comes on, he and chat all jam along. A lounge jazz song comes on, it is too sophisticated. Doc finds a song called Emotional Mess and calls it relatable, but not what they are looking for. “Classic 1985 Music Soundtrack” is aptly named, but also not quite the thing. Chat suggests using the permit office music. Doc insists that when they hear the song, they will all know.

2:50:00 More music browsing. The lead mod asks Chat to watch their boss, because they have to pee. Chat will not make any promises. Doc is currently telling an epic tale of a Goat in a swamp who crushed everyone to the tune of an epic prologue. He switches channels again and asks why everything is so lame or too pushy. Chat is starting to wonder if CBAT is actually the best option. Doc finds a song called Snowfall Butterflies and wonders if someone was trying to find the cutest words they knew for a name. He jams to another song, then keeps scrolling. Chat has given up and are just grooving along. Doc finds music that is perfect for a shop he would hate, where no one will tell you whether your pants fit.

2:54:30 Doc finds some music he likes and improvises armor trim-related lyrics for it. The mod comes back and asks if Doc was good. Chat doesn’t know. More music, more grooving. Doc finds a song he would enjoy if it were the early 80s and he liked cocaine. Especially if his name was Falco. The music becomes increasingly baffling to Doc’s sensibilities. He decides there is nothing good in the YouTube Audio Library and wonders if YouTube asked musicians especially for their shittiest songs. Chat suggests it’s copyright-free for a reason.

2:59:00 Doc has been streaming for hours and has just heard Doccy and Karin come home, which means it is time for him to return to the real world. He asks for an up-down vote on whether the shop is done. Chat says yes, it’s done. That means next week will be the grand opening! After that the dirt shop, then the rails shop. Also, Doc has found a loophole regarding concrete farms, but does not elaborate. A chatter reminds him to activate the alarm before he goes. Doc pops into studio view so chat can’t see the secret switch. He looks for someone to raid. Martyn IntheLittleWood is on, but Doc raided him last week and Martyn got very jealous over the whole Ren marriage thing. Doc saw it on Twitter! He decides to raid Martyn anyway, thanks subs and donos, reminds Chat to ask Martyn why he has little wood, and ends his stream.

[roobylavender]

i love how you hold in-depth and insightful discussions with your anons even if they might disagree with you, i feel like you're such an easy person to talk to 🥹 which is to say i wanted to ask you about something - if you don't mind - i'm always really surprised when you discuss bruce vs. ollie's parenting styles because i feel like the differences you mention weren't necessarily so clear-cut?

for instance i think the 70s were really when the "oh no how can we send our own kids out there to fight criminals and die" conundrum was first raised in superhero comics because of dennis o'neil, stan lee, etc starting to equate the concept of child sidekicks to child soldiers & abusive parenting (hence bucky's ~death~ around this time too), and as a result of that + o'neil wanting to take batman back to its darker solo-ish roots, bruce was written to carry even more immense guilt over sending dick out as robin. and certainly he's had moments like this before, where he worried that he had done dick more harm than good (and for ex., subsequently erasing his memories as robin and sending him back to an orphanage like in world finest's #153..) but for the most part he's very insistent on dick being robin and he understands and encourages the fact that dick wants to balance his civilian life with being robin very much (reason #489893 why i think marv wolfman having dick drop out of college was OOC but that's another subject). tbh that's why i'm so defensive of the original context of batman comics, the fact that children were working in sweatshops or factories or as garment workers etc back then definitely allowed people accept the idea of bruce gifting a bat-copter to dick for his birthday in batman #10 (which is implied to be his 8th birthday 😭) or dick performing shoulder surgery on bruce at age 7-8 or whatever in batman #2 - so in the same vein, i don't think the thought of "oh no dick's life is in real danger as robin" should ever seriously enter his mind (as opposed to in-the-moment anxiety, which i'm sure happens a gazillion times a week) until dick's college years imo?

and i know you've mentioned before that you don't take the golden age personalities/morals ascribed to bruce & dick too seriously because they vary greatly depending on whether the tone is comedic vs. serious - but i actually think they're pretty consistent! for instance for the first ~30 issues of detective comics, bruce is a lot more OK with the idea of killing criminals, but it's clear that after a child, dick grayson, comes into the picture he takes a much harder stance against killing (hence why his original vow with robin by candlelight says "WE two will…never swerve from the path of righteousness" - implying batman will now hold himself to a new high standard that he's also setting for robin). as you said, when batman and robin do mention just "finishing off" a guy or whatever it's definitely played off for comedy and i think the audience is meant to recognize that :]

and re: ollie, the 00s series has him grappling with the "child soldier" worry a hundred times for mia, connor, and roy, so i think this sort of realization should happen slowly and organically for him too (and not just bruce) and it kinda already started back in the 70s anyway with roy's drug overdose... idk i like to imagine that bruce and ollie are a lot more alike despite the surface-level differences in temperament or personality and that's really what causes the (one-sided, from ollie LOL) tension!!

anyway i'm so sorry for dumping this entire novel in your inbox, it comes across like i'm just trying to lecture you but i promise i'm very interested in what you think 😭 and thank you for reading and always providing such interesting replies/commentary in general! have a lovely day ♡

please never apologize for this omg i am always elated to talk about the vast expanse of canon and hear other perspectives on it! and i wholeheartedly agree with you actually, the impact of the 60s really cannot be understated in how it altered dc’s approach to certain topics going forward (and i would love to find scholarly articles about this if there are any). like it’s really interesting how cape comics reacted to wwii and the social welfare era in very distinct ways, because on one hand as you said it originally wasn’t too hard for a reader to wrap their head around the idea of kid sidekicks because there probably were a lot of kids at the time who were also working due to the wartime labor shortage. but the 60s was a huge moment for civil rights and social welfare of all kinds and this was particularly with respect to children. i’m actually in a class right now called children’s rights so we discussed some of that history and the shift at the time that caused legislators to begin to take abuse as a concept seriously. i guess the tricky part about comics and our engagement with these characters is trying to balance the evolving world against what we would like to be a consistent depiction of the characters even though that isn’t necessarily possible, because the politics and concerns of various writers obv filter through (like wolfman and his reagan era propaganda lol). i def want to get further in my ollie reading someday because i’ve heard so many good things about the sort of gravitas of his role as a parent increasing as time goes on. and it would be interesting if more than one character ever converged on that concept of sidekick-ery as child abuse. i think the problem really is that some writers adapted that mindset while others didn’t so you ended up with a lot of tonally dissonant books and characters even though addressing this issue collectively across the expanse of the canon could have been very interesting

[slashingdisneypasta]

Inkubus x Fem!Soulmate!Reader || Drabble

Plot: This is about two people who were undoubtedly meant for each other, but who’s lives did not fit together; With a sweet ending. *I wanted to write something 60-70 percent sad, 40-30 percent happy, and full of a familiar kinda love ^^ This is that! Its also a good excuse to call Inkubus ‘young man’ XD

Warnings: You’re an old woman and your death is definitely coming.

Tagging: @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball and @your-mxnd-is-mxne .

You’re a very old woman when he finally comes back to you.

You’re standing and looking out the window when the front door unlocks, no key needed, and someone slips in behind you. It could be a robber, but you doubt it; Not that you would have moved at all if it had been. You’re too old, too tired, too… dying. Its close, you know.

And that’s why you know exactly who’s back.

It’s been at least 40 years since he said he would see you again. At least he kept his word; you have to give him that. Even if he is a few decades later then you thought, even if he is just in time.

He always had excellent, albeit unfortunate timing.

Nevertheless you greet him with a warm grin- 30 years ago, you would have greeted this man with your knuckles to his face, but honestly your urge to hit him went away with menopause. Now, you don’t have time anymore to hold a grudge against him. Now, the warm afternoon sun is on your face and your favourite person is back. Its as simple as that.

When you glance away from the window, an odd calm feeling filling you up as soon as you see Inkubus for the first time in so long (A feeling that you don’t think you’ve felt since the last time. Like everything is right again now that he’s here), he’s removing his coat and leaving it on the back of your couch.

Like he lives here. Like he’s lived here with you this whole time. Right where he should have been.

Almost laughing, you roll your eyes. He still has brass balls, you see.

“… you took your time.” You finally speak, the words coming out stronger than you thought they would. Still weak, still tired, still old- but not once does your voice waiver.

“My apologies, dear. I was held up.”

The sound of his voice makes your heart plummet down underground, the sound just as perfect and devastating as it had been before. Better then you remember. “Mhm… “

For a moment you’re not sure what’s going to happen, next- is he going to take one good look at you and be disappointed? Disgusted? Would he pick up his coat and leave again? For a split millisecond you feel insecure about yourself, you feel old like one of those witches in a Brothers Grimm fairytale and you hate yourself for it, but you worry he wont like you anymore; this way.

Like a child.

Instead though a soft, though of course still mischievous, grin slips across Inkubus own old-face and he meets you at the window, taking your delicate hand and kissing it. Your eyes widen, still feeling like a child now- but in a good way. A silly, hopeless, butterflies-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach, hot-in-the-face, kind of way. “… why don’t we get you to a chair, dear.”

You’re quick to act stubborn, shaking your head. “I can stand.”

Theirs that amused twinkle in his eye that is so familiar with but felt so far away for so long. “Y/N I’ve been gone from you for a very long time and I missed out on assisting you all these years, so please… allow me to help you to a chair.”

… Your ankles are cramping, actually, so alright- Giving in, you offer a shrug and a gentle smile. While he guides you to your favourite chair by the hand, you decide to conversationally… rip into him. A little. “You know- you didn’t need to be gone so long, young man.”

“I had some things I needed to attend to.” He insists, once again not giving you any details- which is just fine. Knowing him, you don’t want to know. … It might actually put you in cardiac arrest. “And- “ A chuckle escapes him as you sit down which make you grin wider. “Young man, Y/N??”

“Hey, you used to call me young lady- I can finally return the favour!”

“Not really.”

“I’m finally older than you!”

“Not even slightly are you older than me, my dear.” Inkubus assures, standing behind your chair with his hands on the back. You turn your head and look up at him, screwing up your nose. “See? Still a child.”

“Oy!- “ You are an 83 year old woman, thanks so much-

When he rounds the chair to kneel in front of you and take hold both your hands this time, your mood sobers again, seeing that happy look in his eyes that you know he’s only ever gotten when he was around you. Taking a deep breath, you bite the bullet and address the elephant in the room. He should know already, that would be why he’s here you would wager, but you still need to say it. For him and for you. “… you know I’m about to die, don’t you?”

Theirs a grave, grim tinge to his expression now. “… well I wasn’t about to miss your final act was I, sweetheart?”

Quietly, so quietly, almost silently, you ask wince and ask; “… is it going to be tonight?”

He just gives you a serious-stern look, yes, and you sigh. Well alright. You suppose it is time. “Thanks for coming, then.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He grins, and you know by this he means he wouldn’t have missed seeing you a last time for the world, not that he wouldn’t have missed you dying for the world, despite his odd and unfortunate phrasing. It does make you give a little huff of a laugh, though. Hopeless demon.

“Glad to hear it. … So you’re staying for the evening?”

“Oh, I’m making you dinner in fact.”

“Oh??” Your eyes light up, an actual full smile spreading across your face. He’s going to cook for you?? He’s staying??

“Mhm… “

“Well- “You laugh. “I hope you brought groceries because I’ve been living on canned spaghetti.”

With a chuckle, Inkubus rolls his eyes. “Honestly dear I would have thought you knew by now- I’m always prepared.

And also very concerned about your diet lately. Canned  spaghaetti??  This is probably why you’re on deaths door, love.”

Your jaw drops and you promptly flick him, before he gets up and presses a kiss to lips that hadn’t kissed for the 40 years he had been gone. Your eyelids fall immediately closed on impact and you could not be happier- on the day you were dying.

[omgeto]

I read your tags on the smut tips post so I’m here to ask, how do you write a good angst to fluff piece? 😌

idk what possessed me to say my angst to fluff pieces were my true calling BUT since thats what literally ALL my Haikyu fics are and all my non full smut fics are I might as well. AND I LOVE SHARING MY WISDOM I FEEL LIKE A GURU hehehehe.

FIND THE WRITE ANGST TO FLUFF BALANCE: like tbf this one is just down to personal preference of what you want to write. since at the end of the day angst to fluff fics are just fics that start with angst and end with fluff BUT imo to make it sweet and juicy you really need to find the write balance, have you ever read and fic and thought damn this barely had any angst or vice versa. so when it comes to writing NON smut angst to fluff fics I think depending on how heavy the angst is you wanna do like a 60% angst 40% fluff or 70% angst and 30% fluff. but this point kinda leads into my next one...

BALANCING UR SHIT RIGHT: so with this, I think the hardest part of writing angst to fluff fics is that you have to find a problem that angsty enough to be worth writing about but not TOO angsty that it makes the reader look dumb for forgiving the character and having a fluffy ending. to combat this, I usually just make the 'fluff' part of my endings the apology and always kind of imply or just straight out state that not EVERYTHING is cool but you'll work towards fixing it and you can still have a sweet moment come from that.

HOW TO WRITE A FLUFFY REUNION: since I realised that some people actually struggle writing the actual fluff part. but deep it if ur writing x reader fics you just gotta ask your self "if someone did *insert whatever angsty thing they did* to me, what would I want them to do to fix it" tbf half of the time the angst I write in my fics id dump a dude for, but when ur writing for the masses and writing a fluffy ending that cannot happen lol. but usually like just ask urself what you'd want and its 8/10 the right answer. but if u have no ideas then, just start with AN APOLOGY (surprise surprise) a heartfelt apology and some promises to do better and be better and all that lame soppy crap, THAT ALWAYS GOES A LONG WAY and then boom.

HOW TO WRITE ANGST: now I could do a whole separate post on how to write angst, since I actually think my angst is stellar. but so I dont bore you, I'll just say for me personally ITS ALL IN THE DIALGOUE. like yeah descriptions go a long with in any form of writing but for a real juicy piece of angst you have to make them verbally fight (or physically fight if u REALLY WANNA GO THERE but we do not beat up eachotehr so no thank you) but yes the key is in the dialogue like and it doesn't have to be long dialogue but a good back and forth argument which REAL EMOTION THATS WHAT COUPLES AND PEOPLE DO.

BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY MY OVERALL POINT IS JUST TRY AND MAKE IT REALISTIC. HOW? ASK YOURSELF "HOW WOULD I FEEL IF THIS HAPPENED TO ME" OBVIOUSLY SOMETIMES THE SITUATIONS ARE FAR FETCHED AS HELL BUT IT SEEMS U GUYS FORGET THAT UR ALSO HUMAN BEINGS JUST AS UR READERS ARE SO.... DO THAT AND ITLL ALL BE FUN.

[pcrushinnerd]

Critical Passenger--Chapter 11

Story Summary: Before he fully accepted his role as Moon Knight, as Jake Lockley he played hero and made a promise to someone who has come back into his life.

Pairings: Mostly Jake Lockley x femreader, but also Steven Grant x femreader and Marc Spector x femreader because well yeah.

Warnings: Discussion of violence.

A/N: This one just poured out of my fingers not long after I posted the last one. BTW, while sort of based on the character's history in the comics, this basically is just a product of my imagination.

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The Past

Jake was born when he was 17.

It was a gang of older...well, they weren't boys technically. They were men in their early 20s who were part of a local gang on the South side. They didn't deal in the more serious stuff because other gangs owned that. So they had to prove their worth in other, more disturbing ways.

They beat up Marc one morning as he was heading to school. Left him with a bleeding nose and a couple of broken ribs as he walked into first period that morning.

Marc would answer none of the million queries from teachers and school admins. His father.... (Mom wouldn't care.) Marc wanted to deal with this on his own.

Which, to his shame, was mostly finding ways to just avoid the gang until he could think of something. Something good. He considered how he could get a gun, but he soon dismissed that idea. A gun could easily turn fatal, and he didn't want things to become fatal, only final.

So that was around the time Marc started to train after school, at a local gym where he also got his first job--access to the gym and its equipment in exchange for cleaning things and minding the place while the aging owner took more time to relax into an eventual retirement.

He thought he was ready one Sunday afternoon, when he ran into the gang a few blocks from the gym as he was walking to work. He was proven horribly wrong, as they dislocated a shoulder and managed to damage more...precious things. They'd thrown all sorts of Anti-Semitic slurs at him, so they knew who he was. Who his father was. They'd threaten far worse next time--to literally cut things off and throw them into the river.

Enough was enough.

Marc didn't remember much of it. He figured Steven, of whom he was more or less aware of on some level at this point, was behind the planning of it. The brain work behind the brutality. Who'd leave the notes he would find the next morning after falling asleep from the liquor he would steal or subterfuge into his possession, as he fell asleep to old gangster movies from the 30s and 40s, or from old TV shows and films from the 60s through the 80s, featuring tough guys whom he more or less looked up to for some masculine inspiration, since God knew his father didn't provide that at all.

The next moment came on a Saturday night. Part of his plan was seeking out the group on their own turf, adding some element of surprise to this encounter. The thugs were mostly drunk as well, or high, so didn't have that morning shine like they did in past encounters.

"The fuck--?" Was all that was said before he struck. Literally. With a baseball bat. Other weapons of choice included piano wire, bags of oranges and potatoes, and other random tools of destruction. He was bloody and bruised himself, but in the end, the other guys were much worse, though still largely alive. They'd run off, as police sirens sounded in the distance.

"Go on, all of yous!" He'd called out as their sorry asses scurried away.

They never bothered him again.

Word must have gotten around, because one morning at the gym one of the regulars, whom Marc knew was a Marine recruiter, approached him. "Hey, you're pretty tough I hear. How'd you like a new job?"

Marc had a vague memory of what happened. Figured his adrenaline left most of it a blur. He knew he won, which is what mattered.

Marc would have other moments he couldn't exactly remember. Some part of him sheepishly figured it was his alcoholism, so he didn't think much of it. Didn't want to.

The body had lost its virginity in his new persona, not long after. Marc would lose his a few years later, when home on leave one time, but this new alter knew better.

Jake would never have the body long enough to really develop relationships of his own. He was fronting largely when it mattered, when he had to.

If anything, relationships were a luxury he couldn't afford to indulge in. So, he hovered in the background, as Marc would fumble through his own, over the years. So it's not like he wasn't familiar with certain social norms, how to conduct himself, and so on, but like an experienced driver in a totally unfamiliar part of his country, he still didn't feel all that comfortable.

That didn't mean he didn't enjoy some of this romance stuff, though. Not when it made your eyes sparkle and flash him your cute little smile. Such as now, as you two sit snugly next to each other with a heavy blanket covering your legs, in the back of one of those cheesy Central Park carriage rides.

"This is so neat," you kept uttering, as your head swiveled around, taking in all the fall foliage coloring the park, at other people walking their dogs and jogging and dragging their young children around you.

Neat. He couldn't think of anyone else he'd ever known use such corny language.

Mama Joe? While she was a sweet old woman, she was also a tough old bird as well, and her brand of warmness, especially amongst those with whom she was most familiar, was generally guarded, keeping people at arms length. Probably why they got along so well.

"You okay?"

"Huh?"

"You're scowling again," you smiled at Jake.

Jake was quick to mirror your cheerier expression. "Am I?"

"Well...you were. Is something on your mind?"

A pause. "Guess I'm not used to just being a passenger and havin' someone else drivin.'" Jake eyed their top-hatted carriage driver for added effect, at the same time the man gave a brief glance back at you and Jake.

You looked doubting. "You sure? Sure I'm not annoying you again?"

He shot you a worried look. "What do you mean?"

You gave a little sigh, which, though small, weighed heavily on him. "Sometimes you just seem.... I donno...baffled? Irritated? Not for too long though--you're always quick to throw on a smile if you see me looking."

Jake wasn't sure if he was more panicked or angry at himself for letting those slip ups be seen.

He was quick to snatch up your hand. "No querida. Just...stressed from work." That wasn't a lie, in a sense. Although arguably a lie by omission, since he's never let on that technically you were part of his work.

He had worked hard to keep things discrete, normal-seeming. He'd found his chance to look through your things one Saturday you had off and decided to rearrange your apartment, so it was sort of a wreck anyway. You'd offered to go down and get some Thai from a nearby place you liked, while he'd stayed behind and offered to put some things away to lessen the workload on you. He'd snooped around through files, books, and your computer conveniently open and playing Pandora, but all to no avail. You were squeaky clean, as far as he could tell.

Maybe a little too clean, for the likes of somebody like him....

You sat silently. He could feel your eyes on him--studying, appraising--which did annoy him.

"Here we are!" the carriage driver called out, before everything came to a stop besides the spot where the ride began, where another couple was waiting to embark.

Jake was quick to hop out and come around to your side, where he helped you step out of it. He glared at the carriage man, who gave him a pointed look as he tipped him...sufficiently.

You both took off towards the edge of the park, where one of Jake's cabs was parked. His jacketed arm was hooked with yours.

"It's not a mask, by the way," he muttered, when you were just a dozen meters from the car.

You were confused at first by that, but quickly caught on. You nodded your head once. "You're not used to someone like me, are you?"

"No," he admitted.

"Does that equate to any negative perceptions or feelings on your part, Mr. Lockley?"

Goddammit. You'd gotten into the habit of using his last name a lot, and like the little love notes he'd find left in his cab, the extra home-cooked food you'd prepare and pack for him to take to work, and all the good night, good morning, and how are you texts, he was baffled beyond belief but loved it all, and wouldn't blink twice at simply dropping anyone who disrupted any of it.

He stopped walking. "Hey," he said before taking you into both of his arms and giving you a good, deep kiss. "Nothing about you bugs me. The opposite, if anything."

A warm smile spread over your face, before you hugged him and kissed him back, Central Park on-lookers be damned.

If anything, he had to admit he was falling in love with you, deeply and entirely, and that was part of the problem.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 17- Part 8

So, first thing’s first- Paralysis!

And from here, well- it’s a low-level Taillow, I don’t even think I need to lower its health? Just a Poké Ball should be fine?

And that’s that, welcome to Ace the Taillow! And now for the other half of these Rhodochrine encounters…

Stantler! Let’s see how this one goes.

Still gonna paralyze it, that’s just objectively good capturing strategy.

And from here, I think Acid will be sufficient enough to lower its HP at a safe rate.

And now, just to be safe, let’s use that Great Ball we just picked up, yeah?

If you didn’t know, I named her after the love interest deer girl from Bambi. Seemed appropriate enough.

So those are about all the encounters we can get right now, so let’s address that Egg.

Taking a closer look at the Egg like this…mainly yellow with significant brown portions…immediately, my mind goes to Drowzee. But I guess it’s possible for it to be Girafarig, though I feel like Girafarig would have some pink on it too due to its triangle scales. So um- Drowzee is my main guess, with Girafarig as a secondary guess?

But we won’t know until it hatches, so let’s just do some rearranging of the party-

There! With Magma Armor, this Egg should hatch in no time!

(Many steps later…)

The second guess it is! Look at this…not-so little guy!

Pardon me, the little guy is a little girl, in fact-

Anyways, if you’re curious about the name, it’s a reference to Girafarig’s inspiration (both generally and in terms of etymology)- the kirin, which is not only a mythological creature, but also the Japanese word for ‘giraffe’!

So yeah, a Psychic-type that also has immunities and extra resistances thanks to its specific dual-typing! I like it!

Anyways, with that, it’s time to do some team-building. And with the information I have about the Fields of interest as well as the general characteristics of Poison-types…I think I know who I’m bringing to this fight.

Riptide and Glare are pretty self-explanatory- Riptide because I refuse to take the starter out of the party, and Glare for probably Poison immunity. Crater and Kirin are for the type advantages (and in Kirin’s case, a certain move she hatched with that could be useful for…reasons), Breeze for whenever I want to blow the Corrosive Mist away, and Blaze to take advantage of the Corrosive Mist to power up her Fire-type moves in case Crater or Kirin aren’t cutting it.

Obviously, some level-grinding is in order, but that’s what the Grand Hall battle corner is for, yeah?

(Then I had to go to sleep…although, the pull for the battle corner that day sucked, so I didn’t mind waiting another day to see if better Trainers would show up.)

Wow, my luck with Grand Hall sure has been sucky, huh? Yesterday there was just one (1) Trainer with Pokémon in the early 20s and who only gave less than 60 Pokémon Dollars, and today? One (1) Trainer with Pokémon in the early 20s who only gave ~100 Pokémon Dollars. Would it kill this game to at least give me more than one Trainer to battle against?? 

I know what you might be thinking- “Oh X, just use the extra Exp. Candies (S) that you have to level your Pokémon!” And I could do that, yes- but I’m not just grinding for exp. points, I’m grinding for money too! Because I want to be able to afford items! What the heck is this, then??

Well, despite how unpleasant it was- seriously, why do I keep running into this guy with a Mawile?- I was able to get the team to a good level.

Lv. 29 seemed like a good stopping point, I doubt Corey will have any Pokémon above Lv. 30 at least. Plus, still no idea when we’re gonna get to the actual third Gym, which has a level cap of Lv. 35, so the lower I can keep my party’s levels while still being able to do this specific boss fight, the better. Besides- if Riptide levels up one more time during the battle, it’d make for a very cinematic evolution moment.

You might have also noticed how everyone now has an item. Breeze and Blaze have Elemental Seeds because they’re most likely to come out on Corrosive Mist, so that’ll give them a power-up (in spite of poisoning them too). Riptide and Kirin have Pecha Berries (I only had two to begin with) to deal with any poisoning of their own, and Crater has an Oran Berry for HP reasons- I would have liked to give her a Sitrus Berry instead, but I didn’t have one. Oh, and Glare’s item didn’t change, still Protective Pads.

Now, I think we’ve prepared rather thoroughly- in the end, it all comes down to what actually happens during the battle. So no more delays, let’s do it.

Previous

Next

[n0phis]

I wish I had poignant headcanons but no all I have is what amounts to cwilbur being a northafrican mother in spirit. Like I think, during the burger van arc particularly, he would wake up at unreasonable early hours (<- its debatable if he slept at all tbh) and he would blast the fucking radio, immediately waking up everyone within a 1 kilometre radius, and it's either a talk show that he filters into the background or its a 30 minute long song from the 60s.

I also think he likes to do menial work around the kitchen not because he really needs to, and more importantly doesn't even do them that well, but because he likes doing things with hands. he likes feeling alive again, it feels good to do the things that he once took for granted now he's been deprived of it for so long. no none of this is jumbled metaphors for life with disability and recovery from long periods of mental distress. not at all. It's just i think he deserves to have a good time for reasons totally unrelated. He also has a nice olivetree wood spoon that he likes to wave around :)

‘i wish i had poignant headcanons’ you say before dropping this massive brick of emotions directly on my skull BRO

THIS IS SUCH AN INCREDIBLE CONCEPT YOU ARE SO ENTIRELY RIGHT… the fucking. menial work. god. when everyone else is around he needs to put on his masks and his shows and be whoever he’s decided to be that day but on his own he allows himself to revel in the little beautiful things about being alive… until motivation for that and the idea that he deserves those tiny moments most likely tanks after ho16 puts a very sudden end to his mania

perhaps he’s still not entirely in his right mind during those times, still seeing through rose coloured glasses and very, very dangerous excitement but it’s so nice even if the romanticization could feed into impulsive behaviour i am. Oh i am so normal about this

obligatory disclaimer of ‘the things i say dont often make sense, thats why i dont write much, and i never check the spelling or flow of paragaphs so i am not responsible for ur confusion’ BUT YEAH

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Fairy And The Prince #66 + #67 + #68 + #69 + #70 + #71 + #72

Part 1 - Part 2 - Parts 3 & 4 - Part 5 - Part 6, 7 & 8 - Part 9 & 10 - Part 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16 - Part 17, 18, & 19 - Part 20, 21 & 22 - Part 23, 24, 25 & 26 - Part 27, 28, 29 & 30 - Part 31, 32, 33 & 34 - Part 35, 36 & 37 - Part 38, 39, 40 & 41 - Part 42 & 43 - Part 44 & 45 - Part 46 & 47 - Part 48, 49, 50 & 51 - Part, 52, 53 & 54 - Part 55 & 56 - Part 57, 58, 59 & 60 - Part 61, 62, 63, 64 & 65 - Part 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 & 72

THIS IS IT. 103K words and I don’t even know how many months later, and it’s done. If you stuck it out with me, THANK YOU. Thank you from the bottom of my soul. If you enjoyed it, just a little, and would like to let me know, I’d appreciate it. If you hated it, I would like to know as well. When I first started writing this, I meant to go back and forth between it and Ser Lyrian’s story. I also thought it’d be a short story, a speed writing. It... is not. The size of it boggles my mind somewhat, and I’m the one who wrote it. If you came this far with me, and would like to do me a kindness, there are five questions I always ask of people who read my writing and express a willingness to go the extra mile.

1. Favorite Character? 2. Least Favorite Character? I’m interested in the character you love to hate, but if you have a character that’s just boring, I want to know about that, too. 3. Favorite Scene? 4. Least Favorite Scene? Meaning a scene that plodded on or was poorly written. 5. Anything else you liked/hated?

Adam managed. He even found the time and the energy, somehow, to scrub at his battered clothing, and to replace his missing sword with the traveling blade kept with his saddle. The peeping, chirping sparrows that made their homes in the vastness of the stables came to greet him; to them he'd always been Adam, and he always would be. They didn't care about crowns or Compacts or trials, lucky them.

He didn't meet any of the stable-hands he heard working in other parts of the vast building. He did meet some few people on the worn path going down to the stables, but sleepy and elderly and blind his horse was still a very large creature, and they scrabbled out of his way, staring in disbelief. Someone ran back up to the palace, and Adam kicked the charger into a light trot; even the jarring gait of its arthritic limbs felt good, felt real and solid against the Prince's own aches. "Trout, would you go tell them I'm coming?"

The pixie took off like a bird. He could hear the ruckus slowly growing somewhere in the depths of the castle as he rode up to the gate, frowning minutely when he realized the closer he drew, the more exhausted he felt, as if he were dragging miles of chains all unseen behind him. Had they snuck up another test on him? Were they truly cheating at the very last possible moment? He'd ride the horse to his bed if he had to, the charger seemed to have no problem carrying him.

His concerns scattered when he reached the palace gates, and a smile as sunny as the dawn broke over his face when he saw Dane standing there, tall and broad and wrapped in priest-blessed armor.

Trout flew back to Adam's shoulder and perched there. Dane caught the reins of the gelding and looked up.

"Dane," Adam greeted.

"Highness," Dane replied.

With a muffled groan Adam slid off the saddle. His ankle tried to give out on him; Dane's hand snapped out to steady him, and Adam caught onto his shoulder. They traded a very small smile, and Adam felt suddenly lighter, as if he were young again, at a time where such things as crown and loss hadn't mattered.

No one stopped them as they made their way through the palace, coming back much as they'd gone the day before, even if Adam was a little poorer in fairy gifts in his pockets, and infinitely wealthier in grime. Somewhere behind him a ruckus was growing where the impromptu messenger who'd caught sight of him on the path to the stables delivered his news.

Adam didn't care. He opened the door to his rooms.

He paused, and after a moment he had to laugh.

The same breakfast on the table, laid out exactly the same to the last plate and spoon. The same books on the desk, quill trimmings on a small bowl. A fire in the hearth. The wash basin ready, steaming faintly. Even Culli-maid's and Beli's clothing were the same, a miracle he would have never believed after seeing the state of Culli's house slippers the night before. He had the feeling that his bed would be rumpled down the same to the last wrinkle on the sheets.

Beli had been pacing restlessly, and Culli had been sitting by the fire, her basket of mending on her lap. It went flying when she sprang up to her feet. That, at least, they didn't have to change; they'd been just as anxious the day before.

"Hello, Culli," Adam greeted her.

Tears spilled down her round cheeks, and she couldn't speak for a moment. "Good morning, Highness," she managed at last.

He swept her into a hug that dislodged Trout off his shoulder, and she sobbed. "Has it killed you, not to make the bed?"

"Oh, it needs changing anyways, Highness," she protested, laughing through her tears.

Adam held her a moment longer before stalking up to Beli. "Look at me," he demanded.

"I can," Beli told him.

"Look at me!"

"I can!" Beli's smile was the brightest Adam had ever seen in the solemn young man. The pale brown of his eyes was bright through tears he refused to cry until Adam caught his face and stared at him; he caught his Prince's shoulders. "I can. I can see you. I can see you just fine."

"Beli." Adam dragged him into a hug as well.

"Don't think this will save you from doing the books with me," Beli warned him in a choked whisper. "Welcome back, Highness."

Adam stared all around them, at this tiny Court of his, his friends, half his world that he'd come so close to losing. He still felt exhausted, crushed, as if he were carrying a millstone on his back, but even that couldn't crush the simple joy of being home, being among friends, being safe.

"Adam," Dane called in warning, and the young Prince turned. There, on the doorway to his rooms, stood the Queen Dowager. She was wearing an exquisite quilted robe over her sleeping clothes, and a long, elegant shawl over it all. Her silver hair hung in a long braid at her back. Without the pomp of her rank she looked tiny and fragile, like a porcelain figurine. There was a single maid with her, likely the only one who'd been dressed and present at that early hour.

Adam left Beli and nodded to Culli, who moved over to further push the door open. The Dowager and the young Prince met by the hearth, and Adam bowed very low before her. "Majesty, good morning."

There were tears caught in the deep blue of her eyes, Adam suddenly realized, but she drew herself up proudly. "Good morning, my Heir."

Something immense snapped so loudly that Adam flinched, instinctively whirling around to cover the Queen, hand going for his sword. The Dowager cried out and staggered, and both Culli and her maid rushed over to catch her. Dane and Beli were instantly by Adam. "What's wrong, what's happened?!"

Adam tried to step back and nearly fell into the hearth. He felt light as air, light as a feather in a stiff breeze. The world, beautiful though it was, shone to his eyes with nearly blinding new colors, with light and life he'd never seen before. "Didn't you hear that, can't you see that?"

"He can't. They can't." It was the Dowager who replied, leaning on the young maid and drawing herself up carefully straight. "The Compact is fulfilled, and the seal in our bloodline's magic is broken. Now, now we are as we were always meant to be." She gestured lightly, and power gathered and spiraled around her fingertips; the smile she gave Adam was radiant. "Thank you, my Heir."

***

Life turned into a whirlwind after that.

Adam insisted on making one last visit alone. He hadn't known what to expect, but after seeing how hard it had been for everyone he'd left behind, he'd wanted to give his oldest nemesis the grace of discretion. Everidge Leminy had wept like a child at the news.

The priests of the Night-Mother and the Tree-Father had come, and before two vast audiences of worried, hand-wringing nobility, Adam had gone through all the tests. He'd been pulled this way and that, brought to far too many meetings, asked a deluge of questions though no one seemed to be listening to his answers, introduced to endless rows of people. Adam smiled and nodded and did as he was told.

He bid his time.

He still found the chance, on the early morning of the first true day of summer, to sneak out of his room and the palace altogether. He ran into the woods and to the clearing where the green pixies nested. Barefoot, in nothing but pants and a light shirt, he climbed up the linden tree and nestled in the familiar crook of a strong branch, watching the vast green sea of the woods ripple in the morning breeze. "I heard you," he murmured. "When I was lost, and I had nothing else, and I called out, I heard you. What a nanny you've been," he teased wryly. "There's not a time I can name when danger came looking for me in these woods that you weren't there to ward it off."

The tree swayed lightly in the breeze, a green, sweetly scented cloud all around him.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Stay, the tree begged in the song of the breeze.

"I can't," he replied, caught off-guard and strangled breathless by the endless well of the tree's heart, that even then would ask him to forgive. To heal.

He stayed there as long as he could, but in the end he had to go back. He was dressed in rich royal finery, fussed over, fawned over.

On that first true day of summer, Prince Adam of the Realm was named Crown Prince and Heir before the worthies of the realm. A great celebration was thrown. He smiled and greeted people and let them fuss over him and make much conversation about their daughters and nieces and sisters and cousins.

He bid his time still.

The next day, for the first time, he made his way to the Chamber of Council. During those two months between his birthday and his coronation, Adam had spent every moment he could spare with the Queen Dowager, with Master Leminy, with the Genealogist and with teachers who'd seen very little of him before. Nine years of education had taught him the theory of the laws and politics of the realm, but in truth none of the princes had any actual practice with the ruling bit of, well, ruling. None of them were firstborns, none of them were heirs to their own family holdings; Adam, himself, was the youngest of several children.

Though neither the Dowager nor the Master of Scions approved of what Adam wished to do, neither would oppose him. They had made very careful plans for that first meeting. Adam walked in to find most of the seats empty, as expected. He'd taken the throne at the vast horseshoe table and been mostly ignored, as expected. The fact he'd ousted the Earl and Duchess sitting at both his sides to allow both the Queen Dowager and Master Leminy to take their places had made them grumble, but there were so many empty seats that it seemed a non-issue.

The first issue, on fisheries and taxation, came up. It was, the Dowager had told him, an old issue. The coastal lords didn't want to pay taxes; they wanted the fisherfolk to pay them instead, leaving their coffers untouched. Adam remembered the kind, warm welcome of the folk who worked the gull-winged ships of the realm. He refused the tax. The lords threatened to override him.

He snapped his fingers and the very long and seal-laden scroll burst into flames.

The chamber went breath-takingly quiet.

"All this time," he said into the silence. "All this time you've known the price the Crown paid to keep the rest of you safe, and still into the grindstone you sent your children, just for a shot at it. And in the meantime, you schemed for power and acted as if the only reason you'd given your loyalty was fear. Fear of magic. Fear of power. If you want to be ruled by fear, I can absolutely do that. I've learned a little about fear from the Court Beyond the Woods. I'm happy to put those lessons to use with you."

"How dare you speak to us so!" One of the nobles shouted, surging to his feet and gesturing sharply at the Dowager. "Do something!"

"The Duke of Cherst misunderstands, perhaps," the Dowager replied mildly, "who answers to whom here."

"Perhaps the Duke is not aware," Adam examined some of the documents before him idly, "that people can burn just as well as parchment, provided the right amount of power is applied." He leveled a hard, dark stare on the man, who didn't need to know it had taken Adam two weeks to be able to pull off that bit of showy magic without setting on fire everything else in the vicinity. "Sit down."

When the ashen-faced Duke obeyed, he threw the list aside. "Fear is a poor way to rule," he said into the silence. "I want to rule with you, but make no mistake, mine is the crown. Mine is the right. I have bled for it, I have faced madness and darkness and death for it. I will hear your voices, and I will take your words into account, as long as you speak sense to me. But you would do well to remember that the power of our armies is meant to be used against our enemies abroad. In here, within our lands, the power is magic and the magic is mine." He stared at them all. "We're not taxing the common folk. If that's your business here today, it's concluded. The answer's 'no'."

"But, Majesty -" A woman protested.

"Your reasons better be exceptional, Duchess, because I have a full day planned ahead for us and you're already costing us lunch. Let's hear them."

She went quiet.

"Hm." Adam gestured. Leminy's secretaries began passing around scrolls. "These are the new taxes and levies; you'll find there's also -" The chamber had gone to chaos at the sound of that dreaded word, and Adam sprang up on his feet with a shout. "Enough!"

Every goblet, pitcher and inkpot shattered. Cracks appeared on several of the glass panes in the windows.

"Levies, yes. You'll find they're generous. There are also exemptions for the provinces that meet the quotas included."

"Majesty," a younger man pointed out hesitantly. "These are quotas for uncured iron and rowan wood army lengths."

"They are." Adam dipped his head politely. "There are thirteen graves behind the palace temples. There are just as many if not more scattered across the realm. That doesn't include the common folk that had the miserable luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The crown is done with the Court Beyond the Woods. We go to war." Before they could get into too much of a fit over those news, Adam pitched his voice to carry. "And because I know first-hand how fragile a matter royal inheritance can be, I will be wed before we march." He gave them all that hard, heartlessly level look. "Consider the choice of my queen a further potential exemption."

"Majesty," a stately woman with far too much make-up smiled graciously at him. "Surely this is a course of action best discussed with all of your ruling lords, not just us measly few?"

Adam popped his lips thoughtfully, as if the meeting weren't going exactly as the Queen Dowager had predicted. Well, barring the glass shattering. At least he hadn't had to escalate to kicking a chair; they were bloody solid and he wasn't sure he wouldn't have broken his foot in the doing, no matter what she said. "Exceptional wisdom, Baroness. On second thought, meeting adjourned. We meet again in one week's time. Enough time for those who wish to travel to do so."

And with that, he swept out of the chamber and left them to their panic.

***

Prince Canemore made one last trip into the hidden keep beneath the Old Place. He made it wearing traveling clothes, his very best; he had very far to go, on a trip he didn't wish to undertake, to a goal he didn't wish to reach.

He found the gateway leading into his secret garden empty, cold and dark. Rubble covered the space beneath it; though he didn't know it, it had been painstakingly carried, one piece at a time, from beneath the empty plinth where the dancing lady had once stood.

Beyond, the frozen summer garden had gone to autumn, against all his power, matched at last to the seasons above. At the center of it, in the perfect clearing, the golden, gilded cage stood, twisted and broken, bars pried apart by the force of the wild growth of the amethyst vine.

Of Linden there was no trace.

He threw the garden into winter and darkness as he left, and stalked away, never to return.

***

His books had been absolutely right, Adam found out: war is not a quick affair. He found his time full from dawn to midnight, accounting for meetings and supplies, oversight of troops and manufacturing. He never faltered when he spoke, and neither did those around him: their enemy was the Court Beyond The Woods, not the woods themselves. The Courts could be powerful allies just as they could be dire enemies; he would point at the winged, golden creature perched on his shoulder whenever the question came up. Trout had already bit someone's fingers off when they'd waggled them too angrily in Adam's face, and no one cared to find out how well it could wield those silver-tipped lacquered hair-pins.

Before he knew what had happened, autumn and winter had come and gone, and spring loomed again. His birthday, the celebration of the Compact being fulfilled, was planned to be a massive celebration, a masquerade to dwarf all others before. The entirety of the realm, it seemed, wanted to attend.

"They're dusting off every relation they can find, as long as they're young and female," Adam protested vaguely as he suffered through one more fitting. "There's girls pouring out of every cellar and cupboard."

"You can't blame them, Adam." The Dowager was directing the seamstresses and examining the Heir's costume with a stern look. "You're the one who opened that door."

"It seemed the thing to do," he admitted.

"Oh." She shooed the seamstresses away so she could speak to him so very, very quietly. "You could try for friendship, Adam. Even a broken heart can have friends."

He managed a wry smile at that. "It can. But it wouldn't be fair to her. She'd expect love. No, it's better like this. She gets a crown, I get iron. Beli, any new contenders on the guest list?"

The Dowager gestured the seamstresses back to work. From his desk in the Prince's rooms, his Seneschal answered. "Not really. It's hard to compete with the fact that Lord Bagley has both the mines and the foundries. There's just one. Their counteroffer is... clever."

He brought a set of papers for Adam to examine, and the Heir looked very surprised. "You're joking!"

"I thought it might be an issue -"

"No, no." Adam found what the letters were telling him, at the very least, amusing in the extreme. There was light and animation to him that had been missing for months. "At least I'll be able to tell her apart from the others. How goes my personal project?"

"The engineers are working the axles and wheels. Water's heavy, Adam, I didn't realize how heavy until they told me. Carrying that much water, and a person to boot? That's hard. They're thinking of sleds at this point."

"As long as they think of something," Adam winced when a pin stabbed him, and looked up swiftly when the door opened, suddenly hopeful.

Dane, just coming in, shook his head as he'd done every morning for nearly a year, and wilted to once again see hope fade from his Prince. Every morning he went into the woods to wait. Every morning he came back having met no one, not even the pixies. They'd abandoned the clearing of the linden tree, and no one could find them.

No Needlemaw.

No Boul.

Adam turned, expression gone to stone. "Well, now I just have to meet the ladies and we'll see what we'll see."

He was eventually allowed to escape the fittings, only to be snared into a few more last-minute meetings. Then it was Culli who rescued him, only to shove him into a bath, though she did manage to sneak in a meal, the first of his day, for all that it came at the price of his dignity, having to subject himself to the ignominy of being scrubbed like a toddler just so he could use his hands to eat.

Clad in his costume, the circlet on his head, an incredibly itchy domino tied to his face, he took his place at the entrance to the palace's grandest ballroom, to greet the mass of people pouring in and be introduced to all their marriageable relations. He wouldn't, couldn't, leave the party without a betrothed; a number of concessions had been granted to the Council of Nobles in exchange for that promise. No one wanted war, and no one could budge the Crown Prince from it, so they were all working as best they could to minimize any potential fallout from it.

Trout, on his shoulder, solved half the itchy part within five minutes, by biting off the domino's feathers and gleefully flailing around with them. Adam couldn't very well be stern at the pixie when the Queen Dowager herself, standing just behind him, could barely keep from laughing aloud at the fierce creature's antics.

He was introduced to the young lady Bagley, grand-daughter of the Earl of Bagley, who stammered through half her greeting and forgot the other half, overwhelmed. She winced openly when Trout spit out a feather. Adam sighed.

Behind her came the first familiar face in that sea of strangers, and the young Heir couldn't help but smile. "Prince Rickard."

Rickard flushed under his elaborate mask, all the more so when the Crown Prince offered his hand, preempting a bow. He took it, and couldn't help a little smile. "Prince Adam."

Adam grinned, the first honest gesture to cross his face since the gala had started.  Rickard was costumed as a bull, in violets and reds, and the silver and gold that his family boasted were stitched on every velvet and satin seam. He'd grown into a young bull, too, though he couldn't match Dane in either height or breadth of shoulder. The hand gripping Adam's was powerful, but the callouses Rickard had earned from his years spent at the palace were fading. Still, it was the sight of the man that gladdened him. "Prince Bully," he murmured.

Rickard's discomfort vanished under a very inelegant snort of laughter. "Prince Twerp," he retaliated. "Where are the others? I know there's a few that... made it."

Adam gave him a disbelieving look. "As far away from the palace as they can be," he replied. When his one-time torturer gave him an uncomprehending look, Adam gestured all around. "Every girl of marriageable age in the realm is here, Rickard, prowling for blood. Until you got here, I was the only available bachelor." He watched understanding, horror, and panic flicker over what he could see of the young man's features and jerked him suddenly close. "No running. We die as men," he whispered, and let him go.

"Oh, gods," Rickard squeaked. In all of the ruthlessness and machinations he'd once wielded and devised, this apparently was a trap he'd not seen coming.

He was none too gently elbowed by his companion, and the Crown Prince's mouth twitched. "Duke Lagrace, won't you introduce me to your companion?"

Rickard cleared his throat and gestured to the elegant white, silver and gold doe next to him. "My sister, the lady Elizabeth Lagrace, Majesty."

Elizabeth Lagrace curtsied with great grace. "Majesty," she murmured. She was, astonishingly, built along the same powerful lines as her brother, softened by the fact she'd not spent her formative years trying to survive in a cutthroat court, or learning to fight with every weapon and tactic created by man. Adam could only see that she had her brother's eyes, but her hair was lighter, a riot of golden curls artfully oiled and pinned over her head with an exquisite silver clip.

Silver, gold and priests. The Lagraces would back the Crown Prince's war without hesitation for a shot at the crown. Adam expected nothing less than the lethal predator that her brother had once been behind the dainty doe's mask. Elizabeth Lagrace was one year older than Adam, but they'd been so sure of their offer that they'd sent none of their younger ladies.

"The lady's costume is radiant as a star." Adam took her hand and kissed the lace of her gloves. "I wager it pales before what it hides."

"The Heir's costume seems to have grown lopsided," she replied evenly. "Shall I make a note to stay only to one side of you if I wish my hair to stay of even lengths, Majesty?"

Adam barked a laugh. "They grow them merciless in Lagrace," he noted in amusement at the siblings. "I should like a dance with the lady, if I can find her in the chaos later?"

"I will be found, Majesty," she assured him, lacing her arm through her brother, who was scowling in an entirely brotherly fashion at the Crown Prince. She all but dragged him off.

"Better than Bagley," the Queen Dowager murmured.

"Perhaps a little too much," Adam agreed.

"Adam, what are you looking for? Bread in milk?"

"A queen that won't resent my absence from her life. That one has her brother's wits. If she also has his drive, she absolutely would."

But then who would be coming up to him but Arditty, and he swept her off her feet and spun her around, her lace butterfly wings fluttering with the wind of his delight. She introduced him to her flustered husband and their son, who was young enough to be shy of the firebird stranger, but old enough to do his bow without aid. Adam made her promise him one dance before the endless cavalcade resumed once again.

The first dance, however, went to the Queen Dowager. It was the one move Adam knew couldn't be ascribed to politics or diplomacy. Likely they thought it was an invitation made out of family love, but love was the one thing they knew would never grow between them; they had both done things too terrible, lost too much, to be willing to offer more than affection and loyalty and friendship. But they could indeed be friends, and hers was the wealth of knowledge and courtly savagery Adam knew he would need in the days to come. He would have asked the same of Master Leminy, but the Master of Scions had begged leave to retire, and he'd looked so worn and fragile when at last he'd known himself free of his terrible duty that Adam hadn't had the heart to refuse him.

They moved sedately to the music, the swan and the firebird, and Adam was surprised to find out he'd put on a few inches on her. When had that happened?

He danced a merry jig with Arditty, bringing her back to her husband breathless and laughing, and taking the time to tell him wicked tales of her besting the higher authorities of the palace when they'd been younger. He left them in each other's arms and went on to dance and dance and dance some more, until he found himself wishing for more conversations on supply trains and iron forging just so he could sit at a table and rest his feet. Trout brought him a handful of grapes and Adam didn't ask where the pixie had got them. A special pocket had been stitched into the costume because Adam would not have worn it without, and Trout dove into it, safely away from the noise and crowds. Adam envied him.

He danced with the lady Bagley, and managed to get a timid smile out of her. Rickard was under siege when he went to request a dance from the lady Lagrace. She took his hand with a little curtsy; the music began, and they danced in silence for a few moments before she spoke. "You really aren't here at all, are you, Majesty?"

"I beg your pardon?" Adam jerked himself sharply back to the present.

"Here, at the party," she specified, then added. "You're as far away as if you'd flown to another land."

"I am here now. The Lady Lagrace has my undivided attention."

She scoffed. "I know better, Majesty. Don't insult my intelligence and I shan't insult yours."

"Noted," Adam replied, his curiosity roused. "Is this how the lady means to draw my interest? Veiled insults?"

"Nothing I said would be new to you, Majesty. I asked Rickard to tell me all he could of your time in the palace. I wrote to any of my friends who had family here during that time. No, I shall simply be honest."

"Honest."

"Yes. And share with you my observations."

"Do." The dance spun them momentarily away from one another, then brought her back into his arms.

"You're never going to love your queen."

Adam's jaw tightened until a muscle twitched along his cheek. "The lady Lagrace is correct. 'Correct' and 'bethroted' are quickly becoming mutually exclusive."

She smiled. "Would it help if I admitted I've been mistaken for a while now, and didn't realize it until I met you?"

"Do I truly wear my heart on my sleeve like that?"

"Gods, no. You're one of the hardest men to read I've ever met."

Adam hesitated as he spun her. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome. No, you see, I thought at first you wanted a queen that would love you, even if you don't love her. But I was wrong. You know how cruel that would be -"

"Dangerous."

Her head cocked minutely.

"Cruel and dangerous. I don't need a wife that'll stray. Thrones have fallen for less."

"Ah. Cruel and dangerous, then. And you are many things, Majesty, but you're not cruel. You're simply not here at all. Whatever wife you choose will have to live with that absence. It would break Miriana's heart, you know. Lady Bagley. She might agree to a loveless marriage, but your absence would destroy her. She'd die thinking she failed in some way she can never understand."

"So I should choose you?"

"Lagrace has the best offer to your future military endeavors," she replied coyly.

"You don't strike me as the sort that would abide my not being there."

"Oh, I'm sure it would drive me mad every now and again. But I would have the crown to keep me warm in that empty bed. See, marking your absence and letting you know I do are two different things, Majesty. I'm quite sure you'd never find out how I felt about it. Until I met you I was also fairly certain I could make you happy, but now I know no one can."

The dance ended; Adam held onto her. "And why would that be?"

"Because it's not that you can't love, which is what everyone believes, what I believed until I met you. But that you already love someone, and can never have them." She shrugged gracefully in his grip. "I come into this fight knowing I'm already beat, Majesty. And I'm alright with that. How many girls here can say the same thing?"

She stepped back and Adam let her go. He danced, again and again, but it all came to him in a blur where he didn't register faces or names or music, his feet moving out of training as Elizabeth's words careened through his mind.

You already love someone, and can never have them.

For a while, caught in the whirlwind storm of preparing for war, Adam had forgotten.

Suddenly there was no hiding, and the pain was there, like a fist around his throat, like a dagger through his heart.

Linden.

"Mortal prince?"

"Adam?"

He was sitting, and there was a cup being pressed into his hands. The storm of sound and color of the party came back to him, painfully overwhelming in ways the world hadn't been since he'd learned to master his perceptions of it with his magic unchained. Trout was a warm press against his cheek, and Dane was crouched before him, splendid in the official armor of the Captain-of-the-Guard he was still years from becoming.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely, dragging off the mask and rubbing at his face. He was sitting on the stone bench that ran along the railing of an oval balcony, one curtain drawn, the other open, and he felt cold to his soul.

"You stopped. Like a clockity-clockwork toy," Trout told him. "You said not to bite you so I called Dane."

"Ugh." Adam buried a hand in his gold-dusted hair. "Did anyone notice?"

"Only that you're tired. The Dowager is making your excuses."

Adam buried his face in his hands. "I really thought I could do this, Dane."

"You're doing fine, Adam. What happened? Trout said you were just talking, no one's come at you with a weapon. And Culli's got the kitchen locked tighter than Beli's purse-strings. It can't have been poison."

"It was words, Dane. It was just words, and suddenly I just remembered everything I'll never have anymore, and I couldn't breathe. I remembered that I miss my other friends. That I never said goodbye to Boul, that I never even saw Needle. That Linden..." He swallowed thickly and threw his head back, eyes closed and hands gone to fists.

"I'll get you out if you want, Adam. Just give the word."

"I never wanted this," Adam whispered.

"I know."

"Well, gods help me if Lady Lagrace figures it out." Adam downed the cup in one gulp. "Trout, thank you for not biting me." The pixie's wings buzzed and its slender chest puffed up proudly. "I need a favor from each of you."

"Name it," Dane said simply.

"I need you to find an alcove, close the curtains and douse the candles. Trout -"

"I'll go find them!" The pixie arrowed away.

"Adam, what are you doing?"

"Making sure I've done one thing right since I came out of the damn woods," the Crown Prince replied, rolling to his feet and tying on the domino with a gusting, weary sigh. "Go on. I suppose I can get in one more dance while you get it all set up."

He was halfway through a dance with a young girl who was giggling so hard out of nerves that Adam had yet to get her name out of her, when he caught sight of Dane waiting for him. The dance ended and she curtsied and fled, leaving him free to meet his friend. "I wonder if their parents told them I eat young marriageable girls for breakfast or something. I know I'm not that terrifying to look at."

"You aren't. The crown you're wearing is." Dane led the way.

"Ugh." Adam followed. "You'll want to wait outside, Dane."

"Adam -"

"This is stranger than Needlemaw."

Dane's jaws worked a great deal around words he would have never told Adam, but was seriously considering telling his Prince. In the end he stepped back and closed the curtains, leaving the Heir in nearly perfect darkness.

"Sluagh?" Adam asked quietly of the dark.

"Oh." Several sets of eyes suddenly filled the dark with their pale, blight-haunted light. "You did ask after us. We did not know what to think, when the pixie told us."

Adam had to laugh a little. "I did. I wanted to know... that you're alright. That you're finding the scraps and the bones left for you."

"Yes." The pairs of eyes moved through the dark. One drew close and suddenly stood up, towering over Adam. He could just make out, in the light of Sluagh's eyes, the faint upper outline of its muzzle, neither human nor animal but something more and something else. "Hunger is less now, because of you."

"You can never not be hungry, can you?"

"No," Sluagh admitted. "We are hungry to the marrow of our hollow bones, to the knots in our empty muscles. We can eat until we gorge, and gorge we have, thanks to you. But there will always be hunger to us."

"Then I'll ask something else. Are you content?"

Sluagh stared down at the Crown Prince. "This is important to you, this answer. Not because you will use it against us, not because it brings you power. But because we... matter to you."

"Yes. You've been watching people, Sluagh, you're learning how they think."

"It seemed important. You were... new to us. There have not been many new things in our lives. And you were neither enemy nor food. It is important to learn, when someone is not either of those things."

"How old are you?"

"We don't count time as you do. We have been since before the War. There was no palace. We are not certain there were any of your people on this land. There were more of us then."

"What happened to them?"

"We ate them."

"I don't know why I even asked," Adam admitted sheepishly. "And no one's tried anything against you?"

"No. The Court Beyond the Woods is quiet. Waiting. They will see what you do, first. Perhaps they will leave, and things will be as they were before. Peaceful. Small. Better."

"I would accept that," Adam said. "I would count it a victory if they left and never came back."

"Ah, there is the shadow that follows you," Sluagh breathed. "Your crown of blood and sorrow and black ice. Until now it was hard to see."

"Hatred."

Sluagh nodded. "We do not feel hatred. We see it, know it, but do not feel it. We do not think it would be a good thing, to feel it, for all its power. It wounds you in ways no one can help." They paused. "And we would help, if we could."

"To know that is almost as good as the help itself, Sluagh. Thank you. I'm sorry if I called you away from something important. This is the first time I've had time to think on all that I should have done and didn't."

"It is fine, bones do not run," Sluagh replied blithely, their head cocking. "Here comes your pixie. Let us give you a gift on this, the day of so many of your births, when you are finally many. Truly a first among your kind." The fairy threw out their spindly, long arms, and bowed with unearthly grace. "We are Sluagh. We greet the mortal king, crowned in loss and wit and heart. We pledge him our service." Sluagh straightened up and crossed their arms. "Be he fair to us, we will always be fair to him." And then the dark fairy was no longer there.

The sound of Trout's wings came, muffled, past the curtains, pausing after a moment. Adam opened the curtains to find the pixie perched on Dane's gauntleted fist.

"It's tin and paste," Dane explained at the Heir's look of disbelief. He rapped his knuckles on the shiny, shiny gauntlet.

"It's gross." Trout was rubbing its hummingbird tongue against the tiny tabard Culli had made for it.

"Trout, please don't lick Dane's armor. Words I never thought I'd say, but here we are." Adam went out to dance and converse and occasionally sneak away to scarf down whatever food and drink Trout and Dane managed to sneak him. He found himself dancing with the Dowager once again at some point close to midnight.

"Any luck?" she asked him.

"I think it might have to be Lagrace," he replied. "Bagley is apparently the sort to get attached, and hurt later from it."

"And Lagrace?"

"She's the sort to not give a damn."

"A dangerous game, Adam. If you should grow to love -"

"I won't."

"If you should grow to love Bagley," she persisted, her tone clipped, "she would at least love you back. Lagrace never will."

"If I were capable of it, I would have never survived the trials," Adam said simply, and she could give him no answer to that.

"I will speak to her father," she said resignedly at last.

The dance ended and everyone clapped. The bells of the temple, the heavy brass of the Night-Mother's and the smaller copper ones of the Tree-Father's, called out midnight.

Conversations and music and the general hum of the party petered out under that double onslaught, until there was a rare moment of silence when the bells at last stopped ringing. In it, the thump of the Seneschal's staff on the marble floor seemed as loud as if he'd cracked the stone with it. "Queen of the Courts of Spring and Summer, her Majesty, Titania."

The entire immense ballroom might as well have been a painting. Even the servants ferrying food and drink had frozen in place. No one could believe what they'd just heard.

Adam closed his eyes and felt inexplicable laughter bubbling up inside him. The year's worth of training in remaining unreadable and stone-faced was the only reason he could turn around and look towards the entrance of the ballroom without looking like a madman before the elite of the realm, drawing in a deep breath through gritted teeth. "Well." He laced his hands at his back and waited to see the shape of this new trick against him.

He faltered almost immediately. He could remember, in vivid detail, Queen Conemara. He had drawn her a few times in his journal, and though he knew he was no artist, he was also certain he'd been faithful to the blinding, painful light and brittle, icy beauty of the Queen Beyond the Woods. Conemara would have been like a clay cup before the gilded chalice that was the Sidhe woman moving through the parting crowd.

She was nearly as petite as the Queen Dowager, of a height with her and even more delicate-seeming, as if she were made of the finest gossamer. Her skin was the pale, soft color of a quail's eggshell, her features sharp and inhuman but without any of the painful starkness that made it hard to look at any of the members of the Court Beyond the Woods. There was a subtle, gentle softness to her, detracting nothing from her inhumanity but making her a flawless, enthralling beauty. Her eyes were green and violet behind the merest hint of a domino. She was dressed in a gown that put to shame the richest costumes the wealthiest nobility in the realm had been able to conjure, all the more absurd because she was a humble spring meadow, a hundred shades of green dotted freely with violets and daisies and bluebells, with larkspur and clover, with fluttering butterflies and bumbling bees. Her hair was a rich crown of vivid crimson braided in a stern, motherly fashion. Her crown was gold, and on it winked a gem of every color known to mortals, and a few they had yet to find. Her wings were a summer sky, the finest spun clouds, sunlight dappling through the trees.

She moved with gracious surety through the crowd, never hesitating as she approached Adam. Dimly the Heir noticed that Dane had rushed to his side, that the Dowager was hurrying to him. Trout clambered up on his shoulder and shifted restlessly, wings slicked flat against its body.

There were three more fairies with the Queen - no, four, Adam realized. A tiny blue pixie perched on Titania's shoulder as Trout perched on his, wings flicking idly as it peered with great interest at everything and everyone around them. He tried to look at those escorting the Sidhe Queen, but his head shied away from them; they looked human enough, and that was enough for Adam to know that they weren't, but even his magic couldn't penetrate the Queen's glamour.

"The throne of Faerie greets the Crown Prince, the Heir to the Throne of this mortal Realm," Titania's voice was a song in the stunned silence. She curtsied with grace that made the heart glad to behold.

Adam bowed with as much formality as he knew. "I am beyond honored to welcome the Queen to the palace, to this party. She honors us with her presence, and even more with her greeting. I'm not sure we can do justice to her visit, but we will surely try." She smiled at him, and Adam felt his heart trying to swell with pride, as if she were a doting mother and he a child who'd done well at a difficult task. He gritted his teeth until they ached.

Linden.

"Your welcome is gracious and warm, Prince Adam. More, because we know it's offered under dire circumstances."

"My moods do not affect my manners, Majesty. I'd be a poor excuse of a future king if I allowed them to do so."

"Ah, one could hope to find such poise and sense of station among our own," she murmured. The Dowager reached them then and, astonishingly, a sunny little smile broke across the Sidhe Queen's flawless beauty. "Charlotte."

"Titania," the Dowager replied, trying not to sound breathless.

Adam blinked at her, and all at once he felt like a fool. All those years and it had never occurred to him that 'Dowager' was her title, not her name. He felt color creeping over his face.

"It has been brought to our attention," Titania's voice suddenly rang clear and sure like a silver bell over the gathering, "that the Crowned Heir of the Realm feels Faerie has deeply slighted him." She pinned those green and violet eyes on him. "Deeply enough that he feels war is the only solution."

Adam saw the question in her eyes, felt it in her power as it reached for him, but unlike Conemara, she didn't force her way in. She waited, as courteously as a guest at the gate. Before her he set the broken half of his heart, the other half shattered and gone. "Majesty, I do," he said simply.

Her eyes went soft and bright. "Oh, your heart," she whispered. "Is peace not an option?"

"I sued for peace," he admitted. "I sued for peace twice. Before the Court Beyond the Woods, before Queen Conemara and Prince Canemore I sued for peace. I asked for one thing. They could not, or would not, give it. I will, if need be, sue for peace a third time before the Highest Queen of Faerie. But that would be a third, and I fear it might be... discourteous."

The Faerie Queen smiled wryly. "It would. Particularly when the fault for this terrible situation lies completely with the Court Beyond the Woods."

Adam recoiled minutely. The entire gathering gasped; no one had expected to hear one of the Fair Folk, particularly their Highest Queen, admit to being wrong.

"When we sent the twins here, it was our hope that being alone, forsaking the joys and merriment of the Highest Court, would teach them the... poise and sense of station that they lacked at the time. Instead it would seem their character flaws have grown into unforgivable behaviors and abhorrent mannerisms." Titania pursed her lips. "The Court Beyond the Woods is no more. They are Queen and Prince no more. They are simply Conemara and Canemore." She looked at Adam. "Would that make peace an option?"

Ah, so that was the trick, then. Adam's smile was brief, thin and bereft of humor. "Majesty, it would not."

The nobles caught their breath. Next to Adam, Dane shifted nervously.

"Hm." Titania looked unsurprised. She tapped long, shimmering nails against the rosebud of her mouth. She had better offers in mind, Adam was sure of it; she hadn't got to them yet, that was all. "Our daughter offered you her brother's life, and you refused it. We will not repeat that mistake. Does the Crowned Heir remember what else she offered? It would help us greatly."

"Knowledge, wealth, power. Majesty, I hardly know what to do with the power I already have. I want no wealth but what keeps my people and their homes safe. I want nothing that she offered."

"Well, we would offer a palace greater than this one by a hundredfold, hidden in the woods," Titania mused, and the Dowager gasped tinily. "But it is not ours to give."

"It does miss its mistress, though," Adam murmured.

"It doesn't!" The Dowager hissed.

"It does," he persisted. "I didn't tell you?"

"I didn't think to ask," she admitted.

"For twenty thousand years we have watched you mortals." The Sidhe Queen's voice filled the immense hall. "We have laughed with you and cried with you. We have raged against you, taught you, learned from you. We have shared so much with you. What we have never done, not once, is win a war against you." Her green and violet eyes passed from spring to summer and back again, spiraling slightly, and for a moment it was nearly impossible for Adam to stare at them, they were so like those many-colored, shattered eyes. His hatred, his sorrow, his rage all rose up inside him until only the force of will that had brought him to that moment kept him from screaming until he lost his voice.

"Adam." Her voice was suddenly very gentle, like rain against the black ice of his hatred. She had reached out to touch his cheek with the tips of three fingers, warm like summer sunlight.

"Please don't do that." He stepped back minutely, his voice strangled. "It hurts too much."

"Ah, it must be a family thing, to give away your heart the once, and never again," she murmured, pulling away her hand and looking knowingly at the Dowager. "Tonight, on this day of celebration for your birthday, you are seeking a consort, I'm told."

"I am." Adam shrugged minutely. "A throne without an heir makes people nervous, and wars have a habit of killing without much care as to who dies, peasant or king. It's better for the realm to have that matter settled."

"And if such a consort asked you for peace?" Titania asked, and stepped gracefully aside.

Adam felt the world tilt out from under his feet. Dimly he was aware that Dane had caught him, was holding him upright, but he couldn't understand anything beyond that.

Behind the Queen of Spring and Summer, shining like the first true kiss of dawn on a night-dark land, was Linden, his friend, his love, his heart, willowy and slender, a willow's grace, an oak's strength, a linden tree's beauty. They were wearing a gown that shimmered through every color of their shattered eyes; Titania was a spring meadow, but Linden was the summer woods, where flowers hid amidst a sea of green, where the sky shone blue and perfect, where sunsets were fire and dawn was golden treasure. They had put on a slender domino made of bark, dotted with bejeweled insects picked out with fantastic accuracy in emeralds, sapphires, rubies, obsidian.

But they were Linden. His Linden, the white fuzz of their hair very short on their head so early in the season, faint green freckles on their sharp brown cheekbones. Adam's Linden, all that was kind and joyous and fierce in the woods, perfect down to the one bark-covered hand. Linden, surrounded by a flock of green pixies, crowned with a circlet of living vines with a single stone blossom nestled between the green leaves, an amethyst heart just peeking through the gray.

"Linden," Adam heard himself say, and the black vastness of icy hatred inside him cracked, his heart struggling in a darkness that had swallowed it for far too long.

"Adam," Linden said, and there were tears ruining the elegant glitter someone had sprinkled so very carefully on their cheekbones.

Titania lifted her hand, and blew lightly, scattering a stirring of dust like golden motes in the air. The Dowager gasped. Adam wheezed for breath.

Needlemaw, the illusion that had hidden her broken, was suddenly on Adam's other side, holding him up when he would have slipped from Dane's grip and fallen. "Come, now," she urged him, "where's that muchness of ye gone that yuir knees go to jelly for naught but a wee bit of glamour!"

"Needle," Adam gasped.

"Aye."

"Needle!" Adam cried out and dragged her close, close enough to bump their foreheads together, so close that he could smell her charnel-and-soil scent, and he felt as if he could not breathe, as if he were drowning in the blackness with which he'd armored himself. He clawed at nothing, trying to escape it -

A gentle, rough hand the size of his chest caught the front of his costume and lifted him effortlessly back onto his feet. "Adam."

Dane, for whom the Queen's glamour still persisted, swore under his breath at the all-too familiar voice, the abrupt pong of a bullfrog's croak, both coarse and gentle. Adam had to laugh. "Hello, Boul," he managed, and realized he was crying. "I'm sorry. I'm being a baby and can't even greet you properly after missing you like someone cut off a limb."

"You always greet me before," the young troll said. "Now, I greet you." He offered his hand in the human fashion. "Like the first time."

Adam, surrounded by his friend both mortal and fae, fought himself to his feet and then collapsed again. "I can't breathe."

"Breathe with me." Suddenly Linden was there, and it really was Linden, kissing their prince, their Adam, sweet and sure and patient, with a love that had known itself so clearly, so certainly, that it had never doubted its time would come. Under the taste of that kiss, lemon and honey, sunlight and summer, wind and laughter, the ice of Adam's hatred didn't stand a chance. It was gone as if it had never existed, and Adam gasped in a huge breath, as if he'd been drowning for the past three years and had only reached the surface there, in that place and moment.

Linden caught Adam's face between their hands, both sun-browned, one smooth, one rough. Adam clung to those hands and brought himself to his feet. Linden laced the fingers of one hand with his, and the young Heir turned to face the Sidhe Queen. There was one more person with her, but Titania had not broken the glamour on them.

"Majesty."

"Crowned Heir," she nodded graciously.

"You asked me a question." Adam found his voice rough, and swallowed to try and keep it from breaking. "I have been asked for peace before. I would not grant it to a friend." He looked at Dane, but his childhood friend looked so profoundly happy for him that Adam knew the prospect of war was not even a thought in Dane's head. "Nor would not I grant it to family." He glanced at the Dowager, who gave him the tiniest nod, her eyes once again filled with tears she refused to shed.

He looked at Linden, who squeezed his hand, and turned to face those green and violet eyes. "But if the right consort asks for peace, I will grant it."

"I ask," Linden whispered.

"It's yours," Adam answered, and they fell in each other's arms.

***

The gala continued. No one had a single solitary clue as to how to handle what had happened, but they also knew that the Queen of the Spring and Summer Court had come expecting a party, not for all the guests to stampede in a panic at her arrival. And so the party carried on.

"Charlotte."

The Queen Dowager had retreated to a seat behind an elegant floral sculpture, where she was nursing a goblet of mulled wine. She looked up into the unchanging face of an old and dear friend, and smiled. "Larkspur," she greeted, offering her hand.

The Sidhe Queen caught that hand in both of hers and crouched before her mortal friend. "Oh, Charlie, why didn't you say something? Why didn't you call for help?"

"I honestly don't know, Larkspur," the Dowager admitted, finally allowing her tears to fall. "Pride? Grief? By the time I realized what he'd done, it was done. I couldn't figure out how to fix it on my own, and then I was too ashamed to admit to it, and you'd gone back home -"

"I would have come back for you. I would have come back for the sister of my heart, you know that."

"I know. Look, I was young, I was in love, I was heartbroken. Common sense was nowhere near my first priority."

They both laughed, sheepish and quiet. "I want to give you something, Charlie, but I won't if it will hurt you."

"What is it?"

"It's something you were promised," Titania said. "Promised, and never given. Your people taught mine the importance of keeping one's word." Without actually reaching into purse or pocket, there was suddenly a small velvet box, black and gilt in gold, in the Sidhe Queen's hand. She opened it.

The Queen Dowager went very still. After a long, long moment she drew in a deep, shaky breath, and reached out to brush her fingertips delicately against the ruby. It was a brooch, without adornment or addition, a single ruby the size and shape of a man's heart. Under her fingers it beat, harried and steady. "It's -"

"Yes," Titania confirmed. "He promised it to you, and lied. And so now he must keep his promise, whether he wants to or not. It is yours. And yours it will remain, until you feel he has earned it back."

"Is it wrong of me," the Dowager asked in a very small voice, "to be a little pleased at the shape of your justice?"

Titania laughed. "Never."

***

They sat, all of them, in an open balcony. Adam debated waking Beli, or trying to pry Culli from the kitchens, but decided against it in the end. Plenty of time in the morrow for them to gather once again and come together, at last, the two halves of his world. They shared their stories, the harrowing trials Adam had faced, the infinite patience of Linden's own escape and race to the High Court, only to be met halfway on the Winding Road by Titania. As Linden had predicted, the Queen had been more than glad to welcome the blue pixie back into her Court. She knew its worth. And its news had spurred her to action at last, to correct the unforgivable infraction her children had tendered against a Danu-child.

Boul and Needle were, in theory, there to escort the Queen, and so they'd had to leave when Titania chose to mingle, disconcerting greatly the massed nobles. But the third person stayed with Linden. She was an older woman with very dark skin and very green eyes, bundled up in simple peasant's clothing that was more cozy than elegant. She allowed them to kiss, but when the kiss lingered she cleared her throat pointedly.

Adam squinted at her. "Do I know you?"

Linden laughed. "Adam, how can you not? She didn't come here for me!"

Adam gave Linden a puzzled look, and then turned to face the stranger once more. The woman gave him a look of such profound and utter affection that the Heir found himself flushing faintly, and the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He rushed over to hug her, and in those powerful arms he found himself made safe once again, as always he had. "Silly me," he said, feeling near tears once again at that most poignant show of loyalty. "You are wearing a costume, you're disguised as a human!"

The linden tree smiled proudly at him, and brushed back his hair. They hugged again, and when he was at last willing to let go, she turned and walked away through the crowd.

"It's hard for her to be away from her place," Linden explained. "But she really did want to come see you, make sure it was all set to rights. She wanted to know you weren't hurting anymore." When Adam looked down, they bumped him lightly. "She said you heard her."

"I did. She's the only one I hear. But if that's all I ever get, that's more than good enough." Linden beamed at him, then leaned on his shoulder with a grimace. "What, what's wrong?"

"These shoes are very pinchy."

"Kick them off? The skirt's so big, no one's going to notice."

Linden did so, and Adam shoved the delicate green slippers under a bench. "Ah!" Linden sighed in relief. "So much better."

"You still look like your head is full of plans."

"Well, not plans. I've done all the planning I can stomach already. You're the one who's good at planning, I just asked myself 'what would Adam do'. That's how I fixed everything. It's just..."

"What?"

"I don't care for the dress. It's lovely, but it's all over the place. I can't walk without crashing into someone, or something. And do I have to be a Queen? That's what Canemore called me."

"Oh, that!" Adam laughed in relief and stood up. "That's why you see all the women go around with their hands plastered down. Shoves the skirts right back out of your way."

"But what if I need my hands?"

Adam popped his mouth thoughtfully, and Linden swatted him for it, and the sheer familiarity of the gesture made him feel as if his heart might burst with joy. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be Linden. Consort's just what you call someone who marries a King, so, yes, if we marry, you're a Consort. But that won't take away from you being Linden. It's just a thing people call you."

Linden's expression brightened up like a sunny day. "Oh, it's like having all those princes running around. Prince is just something you call them. Consort... I could be that, I suppose, as long as I can still be Linden."

"You will always be Linden." Adam leaned close, and they rested against each other.

"There's lines on your forehead that weren't there before," Linden brushed the fingers of their smooth hand over those lines. "Can't I fix that?"

"I don't know. The whole point of this mess," Adam waved a hand at the vastness of the hall and the ongoing masquerade, "was to make sure there'd be an heir. A baby, at some point. I guess." He sounded about as sure of the goal as he did the process, and even less thrilled about it.

Linden brightened up. "Oh, I can do that!"

"You can?"

"Yes, of course, it's easy." Linden seemed to think. "Though we're going to need a few cabbages."

8/29/2022 7:55 PM X 1/3/2023 3:48 AM

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Finally, the long awaited Jimin Vinyl is here. Or it will be for me sometimes in the first few months of 2024, depending when it arrives. But I've lived without it until now, I can do it for longer. Anyway, it will look pretty in my growing vinyl collection and it comes with extra goodies. Which I love. It also feels so good when it's a surprise. I got Prince's Purple Rain and it came with a poster which I had no idea of!

I also pre-ordered one version of the GQ magazine because I'm slowly adding more to my magazine collection. I don't think I'll ever forget the day I threw out my entire collection of Elle that I gathered throughout high school in a moment of late teenage rebellion. Anyway, I'm eyeing some Vogue numbers now, but that's for November or December.

When I know I have the option to pay when I receive the package, it's so much easier to add stuff to the cart. I make it a problem for future me and at least I have options. So I got Taemin's album as well which I'm so excited for. It will be my first. I'm really not a K-Pop album collector, but it's nice to have some of the releases on my shelf. I didn't get the bug of getting everything from everyone.

I've also thought if I should get Jungkook's album now. I was looking at the Substance version, but I think I'll wait until after the release. It's no rush for me. I actually did the same with Face. I got one version in late April and the other one some time in the summer (for other reasons).

Now, onto some more practical stuff for which I hope any of the people following me/reading this might have an answer. It's about the documentary on Weverse. I'll admit, I never bought anything from that platform. I watched ITS 1&2 thanks to people adding links on twitter. I looked up Suga and J-Hope's documentaries just to get an idea on a price and it said 100 Jelly, which I'm supposed to buy. (Do people get jellies when they order stuff from weverse shop and all that?). So, there's either 80 or 120 Jelly options, but the point is, to be able to unlock the documentary, I basically need to pay 30 euros. Which in my opinion, sounds a bit absurd. It's the equivalent of 5 movie tickets at the cinema. Or some expensive screening session at a festival. But this is a 60 minute documentary. I don't need to own a digital copy or to have access permanently to it. It's also unfair given that with the other two, people had the option of watching it on Disney+ for which the subscription is the equivalent of small change compared to this.

I'm also not able to watch in on the 23rd when it's released because I'll be on a train with bad wifi and getting home after a long journey. I'll have to stay away from social media, but I don't know for how long. If anyone is kind enough to give me a heads up if there are people streaming it on twitter or it gets uploaded on some platform/website, I would appreciate it very much.

Anyway, after a few days in which I've been complaining about lots of stuff and in particular weverse, Jimin day is almost here! It feels like a holiday 😄

[d2kvirus]

26/1/24 Fact or Fiction

Statement #1: Bayley will win the 2024 women’s Royal Rumble. FACT - It makes perfect sense from a storyline standpoint to have Bayley vs Iyo at WM, and given the Rumble and MITB are effectively treated as ersatz titles these days it also fits to have Bayley get a clean sweep of all women's titles, Rumble and MITB

Statement #2: You spell battle royale with an “e”. FICTION - Only when talking about that Japanese film given that's, you know, the title and everything

Statement #3: There should be a Tag Team Royal Rumble match. FICTION - Mainly as it will be a logistical nightmare to a match where the only finish would be one babyface Ricky Mortoning their way through one or two heel tag teams in the final four

Statement #4: For Cody Rhodes to “finish the story” he must defeat Roman Reigns for the WWE Title in a WrestleMania main event. FACT - If he wins the title from Not Reigns that would be a consolation prize at best, and if he's not even in a title match at WM then he's a punchline for the remainder of his time there

Statement #5: You will consume alcohol while watching this year’s Royal Rumble match. FICTION - One time a few years back my local pub showed the Rumble live. Give the show started at 1am, and that was the 2013 Rumble where the booking went into full "Sod you, you're getting Rock vs Cena II" mode, it was not fun walking home at 4am with a few beers in me while being PO'd that the last two matches of the show were effectively Vince sticking his middle finger up at his audience. But he's stuck worse things in worse places, from what I hear...

Statement #6: Draymond Green has a WWE career waiting for him after he retires from the NBA. FICTION - Given he's a dead ringer for Ledley King, Tottenham will surely ask him if he can play centre back as that couldn't be worse than Eric Dier

Statement #7: You recognize The Big Show as the real winner of the 2000 Royal Rumble match. FACT - Because he did. At least Cena & Batista's botch managed to work out in such a way it was obvious the booking was telling the fans to ignore the evidence of their eyes and their ears

Statement #8: An “Even Greater” Royal Rumble with 60 entrants would be fun. FICTION - The 40-man Rumble was pretty bad, so adding 50% more entrants to that would be as terrible as me beginning this response and forgetting that one time they did a 50-man Rumble...

Statement #9: Jinder Mahal’s WWE championship run was underrated. FICTION - It wasn't even rated due to it being the booking equivalent of The Great Molasses Flood of 1919: slow, painful, and horrible to witness

Statement #10: Tony Khan’s tweets are fun. FICTION - While the whole "I can't support AEW as the owner is a bit cringe on Twitter" discourse is almost entirely performative garbage from garbage performers on forums and social media alike, Tony really needs somebody hovering over him to keep him from making the story about him instead of AEW

Statement #11: Santino Marella’s “I wasn’t ready!” elimination from 2009 Rumble match is the funniest moment in Royal Rumble history. FICTION - The ending of the 2005 Rumble is best for its unintended hilarity, not least due to Vince's comedic tumble as he realises he blew out both quads and having to sit there like a toddler giving instructions

Statement #12: You are more interested in what Nic Nemeth does post-WWE than Matt Riddle.  FICTION - If Nemeth bet on himself when his contract was up in the mid-2010s I certainly would have been interested in what he had to offer, but after a decade of forgetting he was still employed at various points I'm far less interested, so Riddle wins by default

Statement #13: Here’s a good idea, a TLC Royal Rumble: entrants can be eliminated by going over the top OR by being put through a table, chairs are ladders are legal, and after all 30 entrants have entered then the remaining wrestlers are able to go after a WrestleMania main event contract hanging above the ring. FICTION - I'm sure that a table battle royal exists somewhere, but there's two obvious problems with using tables for eliminations: the table not breaking, or the table breaking when it's not supposed to. Either way, any stip involving something which can't follow booking instructions like tables, glass or Koji Kitao is destined to have a botched finish sooner or later

Statement #14: In pro-wrestling, a good punch is better than a good chop.  FICTION - Not that I'm against a good worked punch, but what puts a chop over the top for me is the sound when somebody who can really lay them in, be it Gunther or Go Shiozaki or Pentagon Jr

Statement #15: In the next 20 years, someone will break Stone Cold Steve Austin’s record of 3 Royal Rumble match wins. FICTION - Most of the men on two wins have already retired so if they have (for the sake of argument) Cody winning four in a row it will be forced as hell just to create a record for the sake of creating a record - which is why I can't see them trying that with the women's Rumble, given that match is so young that it would look especially obvious if they have Bianca Belair or Rhea Ripley win it every other year to get her numbers up

Statement #16: Kazuchika Okada should go to the WWE. FICTION - Okada should go wherever he feels would be the best place for his career. That might be WWE, that might be AEW, that might be a company which isn't even in the conversation at the moment, but saying he "should" join one company or another is just like the worst part of football discourse for decades before social media became a thing and made it even more irritating

Statement #17: WCW’s three-ring World War 3 battle royale concept should be brought back. FICTION - The main issue with both WarGames and Blood & Guts is there's always the chance the camera misses something in the second ring as it's focusing on something in the first ring (or, in B&G's case, outside the ring or on top of the cage) so a third ring increases the chances of the production truck missing something

Statement #18: If The Rock wrestles at WrestleMania 40 it will NOT be his last match. FACT - Mainly because of the genuine concern that, if he does win at WM, it will be the second time in recent(ish) memory he's come back to end a lengthy title reign, meaning he has to stick around to drop the belt...right?

Statement #19: You prefer to watch actual wrestling over movies about wrestling, like The Iron Claw. FICTION - At no point when watching The Wrestler did the film cut to commercial mid-match, nor did I question Darren Aronofsky's booking decisions...until Noah, anyway, but the point I'm making...

Statement #20: Playing the Royal Rumble mode on the early ’90s WWF WrestleFest arcade game is history’s greatest wrestling video game experience. FICTION - As fun as the Wrestlefest Rumble was, the greatest wrestling game experience for me was borrowing someone's GameShark so I could actually use Jake Roberts in SDvsR 2006, as that was locked behind needing PS2 & PSP crossplay otherwise and I didn't know a single person with a PSP

Statement #21: If the top rope breaks during a battle royale, wrestlers should still be legally eliminated by being throw over the 2nd rope. FACT - Makes sense, as if the top rope breaks the middle rope becomes the top rope. Just don't ask if the top rope breaks on one side but not the other three, that's a headache waiting to happen

Statement #22: 2x Royal Rumble winner John Cena is the greatest wrestler of all time. FICTION - Mitsuharu Misawa is spinning in his urn

Statement #23: Here’s another good idea – a Reverse Royal Rumble: the match starts with all 30 entrants in the ring and every 2 minutes someone is randomly eliminated, but you can can be safe from the random countdown eliminations if you eliminate someone else first. FICTION - New rule for 411mania: anybody suggesting reverse battle royals must post photo ID to prove they aren't Vince Russo - and if they aren't, that makes it even worse

Statement #24: No one ever retires – the Undertaker will wrestle again. FICTION - Plenty of wrestlers retire for real, be it due to injuries which can't be rehabbed or because nobody noticed that they retired. More than anything else, though, since retiring Undertaker has removed the mystique he had for decades with his podcast appearances and so forth, and that genie isn't getting put back in the bottle

Statement #25: IMPACT Wrestling changing their name back to TNA will make you watch again. FICTION - It's not airing in the depths of Freeview in the UK anymore, which is why TNA had a surprisingly large following in the UK 15+ years ago, so unless there's some really good word of mouth that will send me to WatchWrestling I will likely not be actively looking to watch it

Statement #26: WWE should bring back the ECW brand again. FICTION - If there's any brand which WWE bought and then euthanised they should consider bringing back it's Evolve. No, wait, hear me out: the thing with Evolve is there's little to no emotional attachment or cultural cache attached to the brand as there is with ECW or ROH, so if they rebranded NXT LVL UP to Evolve it wouldn't hamstring the show before a second had aired, given the name is mainly associated with Gabe Sapolsky booking shows for DGUSA talent when the Dragon Gate wrestlers weren't available

Statement #27: You would be excited to see Shane McMahon as a surprise entrant in the Royal Rumble match this year. FICTION - I'd rather he was a surprise entrant in MITB or the Elimination Chamber, as that means we'd guarantee somebody taking an utterly ludicrous bump in matches which sort of require it

Statement #28: WWE already has too many international PLEs scheduled for this year. FICTION - Actually having PPVs for overseas crowds, and not the UK-only PPVs that WWE used to fob off their UK audience with which HHH always seemed to be "injured" for yet healthy to appear on Raw a couple of nights later, is something WWE needed to consider for the longest time. Remember, that's actual crowds, not Bonesaw McGraw's mates...

Statement #29: It’s sad that one year ago Sami Zayn was the hottest wrestler in the world, but now no one talks about him, he has no chance of winning the Royal Rumble or ever main event-ing a WrestleMania again. FACT - Especially considering that Sami did the impossible and made the Bloodline actually interesting and not JBL's Cabinet with Polynesian tattoos, and he deserved to be rewarded for that with the booking Jey Uso is currently getting

Statement #30: CM Punk will win the 2024 men’s Royal Rumble. FACT - Seems like the wisest call to make: if Rollins is healthy come WM, Punk vs Rollins will go ahead while Cody/Reigns is for all the marbles, but if Rollins isn't healthy there's a story for Punk/Reigns or potential for a Punk/Cody/Reigns three-way - so all Punk has to do is not break his foot doing a spot that makes no sense to wreck those booking plans, or lose his rag on a habitual basis to wreck literally everything around him