#disagreed immensely with a tag someone left on it.

[neeweekeewee]

I genuinely think people like the IDEA of Stolitz more than what it actually is…

Think about it! Most of these people make their own interpretation of the ship than actually following what canon is depicting. Because of this, they will defend it immensely because of what they’ve made up about it rather than face the reality.

I have been guilty of this too! For example, I love Seddie (Sam and Freddie from Icarly) but I only like my interpretation of it, NOT how it is executed in canon (for SO many reasons…mostly being Dan Schneider is a shitty writer and person). I love the idea of them but they are absolutely horrible together in the show, even the actors hated them together 🥲

I think the whole idea of Peasant X Royal is admiring and I can understand why people like it, but in the case of Stolitz, it’s very different. Blitzo was in a Quid Pro Quo relationship with Stolas, no matter how much people try to frame it, the bottom line is: it’s rape. Every scene where Stolas tries to stick it to Blitzo sounds like manipulation or gaslighting because the bottom line is, the only thing Blitzo did to Stolas was not love him back. I saw a good question someone posed in this tag asking: “What did Blitzo even do wrong to Stolas? He doesn’t even address it in his latest song, the audience is left with the very vague reasoning as to what ‘Blitzo did wrong’”. And I totally agree!

Every time they try to make Blitzo ask for “forgiveness�� from Stolas in some form, it sounds like a victim who’s suffering from Stockholm Syndrome… people will disagree with me but my statement is that victims are not all same and abuse can come in SO many different forms. Thats why it’s hard for victims to leave, because their minds are being played with and an abuser is not always being terrible all of the time (at least in most cases).

Every single scene involving these two involve them being angry at each other or being angsty.

Almost every single scene with these two involve Blitzo being angry with Stolas, uncomfortable by him, or being scared of him. Nobody can argue with me on that because it’s LITERALLY in the show.

This relationship was doomed from the start (Murder Family, literally episode 1!!). And Viv is trying to back peddle as much as she can to make it seem like it’s not as rapey as it seems.

When you love a ship, you’ll do anything you can to make it seem like it isn’t that bad, I can totally understand that. I feel like the best way to get past this is to accept that it is inherently unhealthy and make your own interpretation and express that to your followers, or make AUs, Rewrites, etc.

[samglyph]

danny phantom fans be like “you’re making the characters flat” like the show danny phantom from 2004 was full of round or dynamic characters. These bitches were static as hell.

[salazarslytherin]

sex on fire (s.b x y/n)

summary: an encounter with sirius in the kitchen

🃛 masterlist

cw/tw: smut, pussy slapping, fingering, dumbification, praise kink, like exhibitionism if you squint, age difference (reader is of age!)

word count: 2.14k

a/n: Inspired. SO HEAVILY by @thotbutpurple’s dilf!marauders headcanons, specifically this post for this imagine. also heavily inspired by @acosmis-t's fic peanut. honestly this is just, self-indulgent. might do a dilf!series, I'm not sure reblog to boost please xxx

tag list at the bottom ☯︎ join tag list here

Some people would think that it’s weird to like someone almost twenty years your senior. And if we’re being honest, you thought the same too.

That was until Sirius fucking Black walked into your life.

One of your dad’s best friends from high school, Sirius appeared in your life when you were sixteen, riding back into town on a Bugatti motorcycle and a battered leather jacket. A photographer who’d travelled the world, he came back to your small town to spend time with his younger brother and his old friends from high school.

That spelt weekend barbecues at your house, watching the absolute hunk of a man walk around your house shirtless, or in the thinnest fucking white tank you’ve ever seen in your life. Whether Sirius owned clothes that weren’t band tees, white tanks, and ripped jeans, you didn’t know.

But secretly, you hoped he didn’t.

⚔︎.

Now it’s been three years since Sirius had returned, and yet another one of your dad’s friends’ barbecues was being held at your house. The men were out back barbecuing – they called themselves the Marauders, the name never not making you laugh. Unfortunately, this week you were unable to join them, holed up in your room to study for your finals.

With the weather heating up as it neared the beginning of the summer, you could feel each individual bead of sweat run down your spine. Unable to focus on anything with the immense heat and the overwhelming stress you were feeling, you took out your earphones and got up off your chair, deciding to go downstairs to get something cold to drink.

Opening your bedroom door, you could hear the music playing from the backyard, the booming laughter of the various men standing around the barbecue grill. Walking down the stairs, you recited the formulas you were revising earlier, not at all paying attention to anything around you. Stepping into the kitchen, you kept staring at the flashcards you held, opening the fridge door to grab the carton of juice you knew was in there.

“That focused, are we?”

The deep voice scared you, making the flashcards from your grasp fall all over the tiled flooring. You whipped around to see Sirius leaning against the kitchen sink, smirking as he watched you. You watched him in return, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downed a gulp from his beer bottle.

Shaking yourself off, you turned back to the fridge and grabbed the carton, before placing it on the counter and closing the door. You bent over to pick up the flashcards that you had dropped earlier, only to hear a splutter of a cough behind you.

You turned around as you placed the cards next to the carton, seeing Sirius cough into his forearm, his abs flexing beneath the thin tank top he wore.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay, Sirius?”

The man waved his hand at you, placing the beer bottle between his lips as his eyes scanned up and down your body, smirking around the bottle.

“S’nothing, Y/N.”

Your eyes followed Sirius’s gaze, looking down to realise just exactly why he had his little impromptu coughing fit. Given the heat, you’d forgotten you were only wearing a thin tank top and booty shorts that day, meaning that when you bent over, you’d given Sirius quite the show. You felt yourself turn red as you realised, spinning around promptly to grab a glass from the upper cabinets.

Unfortunately for you, but quite a fortunate happenstance for Sirius, all the glasses on the bottom shelf had been taken outside for “public consumption”, and only those on the top shelf remained.

Conscious of your every move in front of the hottest man you had ever known in your damned life, you stood up onto your tippy toes, reaching for the glasses on the top shelf. You could feel your shorts riding up as you reached up as high as you possibly could, honestly just contemplating climbing on top of the counters to reach the glasses.

All you wanted was some damned juice.

As you struggled, you heard a chuckle sound behind you, then footsteps. Warmth emanating from behind you, and then a hard body pressed up against you. Your body tensed up as you felt Sirius’s body behind you, swallowing audibly. You saw a hand reach up above yours, the large appendage wrapping around the blue glass before receding as the warmth moved away from you.

“Here you go, pumpkin.”

The nickname made your mouth run dry as you turned around to take the glass from the man, smiling slightly at him. You felt a shiver run down your spine as your fingertips grazed his, having to grip the glass unreasonably tight as you felt your hands weaken at his warmth.

“Thanks.”

Your voice croaked at the word, Sirius’s smirk growing on his face yet again. You took the carton and poured yourself a glass, sipping on it as you leaned against the counter, mirroring Sirius who was back to sipping at his beer bottle.

You could feel your exam stress building up again as your hand reached for the flashcards again, flipping through them as you mouthed the different formulas and definitions written on them.

“Stressed, Y/N?”

You hummed in agreement as you focused on the cards in your hands, the glass having been returned to the counter as you sunk back into revision mode, barely registering the clink of the beer bottle being placed in the kitchen sink as the man made his way towards you.

“Want some help, destressing, hmm?”

You looked up at the man only to find him right in front of you, your body straightening up as you watched his teasing expression, lips curled and eyebrows raised.

You knew Sirius knew the way you felt about him. The way you sucked in a breath the first time you’d seen him, the way you licked your lips subconsciously at the sight of him, the way you thought about him when you touched yourself…

He wasn’t exactly subtle with hiding the innuendos.

You shook yourself free of those thoughts as Sirius watched you, almost as if he knew what you were thinking.

“More juice, maybe?”

The smirk only grew bigger as the man shook the carton slightly, uncapping it and tilting his head backwards, drinking straight from the carton itself. You watched with your mouth hanging open slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing entrancingly with every gulp.

“Oops, I might've finished it all. Though, I think there’s still a little more in here…”

Sirius watched you almost mockingly, mouth dropping open to show the bare minimum of juice left in his mouth.

The man knew you wanted him, and felt the exact same way towards you. He couldn’t help it.

The moment you stepped into the kitchen, he was a goner. The tank top clinging to your breasts, showing just the right amount of cleavage, the shortest fucking shorts he’d ever seen you in barely covering your ass, the man was holding himself together by a thread at this point.

“Hmm? You want it?”

Sirius’s eyes scanned your every move, eyebrows raising as you pushed off the counter slowly.

“Come get it.”

⚔︎.

You didn’t know who moved towards who in that split second, only that a moment later your world was turned upside down. Sirius’s lips were soft and sweet – the entrancing taste of Sirius overwhelming you, beer and orange juice mixing together in the kiss. As promised, Sirius’s tongue pushed a dribble of juice into your mouth, making you moan into his lips as your arms wrapped around his neck, flashcards scattering across the tiled flooring yet again, his hands coming up to grip your waist. The man’s calloused hands fingered the hem of your top, pushing the edges up, his thumb drawing circles on your hip bone.

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, feeling Sirius chuckle against your lips at your surprise. Your own hands moved from his neck to his shoulders, sliding down to his arms. You could feel Sirius’s arms tensing at the feeling, the veins on his muscled forearms like braille under your fingertips.

Grunting into your lips, the man stepped forward, pushing you up against the counter, the edge right against the small of your back.

“Can I?”

Sirius asked breathlessly, lips bright red from what felt like minutes, but also hours, of yours against his. He ghosted the elastic of your shorts, eyes flicking between yours as he awaited your approval or disapproval.

You nodded, unable to speak as you held your breath.

Was this actually happening, or were you having some sort of heat stroke-induced delusion?

“Turn around and bend over for me then, doll.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you nodded again, rendered dumb by your disbelief at the situation. You bent over the counter, leaning on your forearms as you looked over your shoulder, watching Sirius crouched down, hooking his fingers into your shorts, pulling your panties down as well in one move.

The man sucked in a breath at the sight of you bottomless, making your face turn red.

“Such a pretty pussy…”

The blush spread throughout your body as you noticed how close Sirius was to you, his breath ghosting your clit as he did nothing. Simply staring at your cunt. His hands moved up from your ankles, where he’d brought your shorts down to, and spread you open, fingers dipping inside you unintentionally, but it was likely to have been intentional. You squeaked at the feeling, walls clenching around thin air.

This is so fucking embarrassing. But your body seemed to disagree, feeling yourself become wetter at the feeling of Sirius’s eyes on you.

Moving in to take a closer look, the older man sent you one of his signature panty-dropping smiles.

Literally, in this case.

“I’m going to fucking ruin it.”

You threw your head forward as Sirius ran his forefinger up and down your slit, the brief contact with your clit making you let out a loud moan of surprise. Your eyes squeezed shut as you hid your head in your forearms, Sirius’s finger stretching you out as you moaned into your arms.

“Don’t be so loud, doll. Do you want everyone to hear you?”

You shook your head, biting your lip as Sirius moved his finger in and out of you, growing wetter at the thought of anyone catching you here. In the kitchen.

With your dad’s best friend.

All coherent thought was interrupted as Sirius’s other hand landed on your clit, rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger. The movement made your brain short-circuit, letting out a loud gasping moan as he pushed a second finger inside you as well.

“S-Sirius. Fuck.”

The man tutted from behind you but didn’t even falter in his movements, seemingly spurred by your pleasure to pump his fingers in and out of you even faster. You were so immersed in the pleasure that your eyes shot open in surprise as a sharp slap landed on your clit.

“What the fuck?”

Your head whipped back to look at the older man, who merely lifted a brow at your outburst, his fingers still thrusting into you, the sinful sounds echoing around the kitchen.

“Told you to shut up, doll. Or are you too dumb to understand simple instruction, hmm?”

As he said that, Sirius curled his fingers inside of you, making you choke on your breath as he hit something inside of you.

“S-Sirius. I-”

Another slap landed on your cunt, but the pain mixed in with the insane amounts of pleasure you were feeling, your eyes squeezing shut once more to see nothing but stars in the midst of your pleasure.

“I told you to be silent, didn’t I? How’ve I fucked you dumb already.”

You whined silently, wiggling your hips slightly as your walls clenched around him, feeling your pleasure mount inside you, climbing towards its precipice.

“Your pussy’s so tight around my fingers. You wanna cum, love?”

You bit down on your forearm, moaning out into it as you nodded, your orgasm threatening to erupt on his fingers.

Sirius curled his fingers inside you, the movement pushing you over the edge as you nearly screamed, thanking the heavens that someone, probably Sirius, had come up with the idea of blasting AC/DC in the backyard. Convulsing around the older man’s fingers, your chest fell onto the countertop, your fluids running down your thigh as Sirius pulled his fingers out of you slowly. The feeling of being empty made you whine, hand searching blindly behind you to find Sirius.

“Want more.”

A chuckle sounded behind you, Sirius’s hand finding its way to your hair, threading his long fingers through it.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you, pumpkin?”

taglist: @marvelslut16, @siriusbarnesslut, @marimorena06, @weasleysbitch2, @reg-arcturus-black, @themoonwithprophets, @moonys-gf, @quindolyn, @lilypad-55449, @kermiemoon, @jamespotterslover, @remoony1, @siriusblackwifeeey, @iamnibbsi, @azura-mist, @accio-remus-lupin, @tomriddle_whore, @greenlyblue, @lillsthoughts, @jeannelupinblack, @i-love-scott-mccall, @justadreamyhufflepuff, @shit-thats-true, @dorcasmeadowesx, @sunflowersandpansies, @elenapatricia99, @90sgoldentrio, @itsmentalillness, @sprucewoodlover, @kiaslily

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[taxicabinmemphis]

"It’s really scary for me when you do things like this."  either prinxiety or analogical w/Virgil saying that about the other side talking badly about themself/being really destructive (like toward themself) and saying things like 'no one cares about me' or 'thomas doesn't need me' or other similar things. :) I'm really on a roll with the angst :)

hi so choosing which ship took a while sorry...it’s pretty much pre-romantic but I guess you could interpret it as platonic if you really wanted to (but actually maybe not who knows idk) (edit: someone said in tags that it can be interpreted as platonic. sweet.)

(tw swearing, arguing (no yelling but virgil gets pretty upset))

Virgil could only watch with fear and sadness as Logan sunk out.

The conversation between the group was nowhere near over, but Logan took that second as his time to leave.

In truth, the logical side thought that he should have left earlier. Or, maybe he should’ve never attended the meeting. It’s not like they’d listen anyway.

But Virgil was now more anxious than usual. He was scared, even. This discussion no longer had the embodiment of Thomas’ voice of reason. Logan wasn’t even on Virgil’s side in this discussion (at least, not completely), but he still didn’t want Logan to leave. In Virgil’s past experiences, Logan was usually right. And, him leaving normally made things worse.

Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if Logan’s opinion was the one they should have gone with. Obviously, his was safer, but Logan’s....

The anxious side impatiently waited for the end of the conversation.

When it did eventually end, he immediately sunk out with the explanation of needing to take a nap.

He appeared outside Logan’s door, knocking as soon as it came into view. He had been waiting to be able to speak to the logical side for a while at this point and was done with patience.

Virgil heard someone close a book behind the door. Nothing else, though, so Virgil knocked again.

“Open up, Pocket Protector,” he said impatiently.

“I do not wish to be in the presence of others at this time,” Logan spoke softly.

Virgil rolled his eyes despite his heart cooing at the delicacy of Logan’s voice. “Too bad. As long as you're not like, indecent or anything, I’m coming in.”

Virgil didn’t hear a response to his statement so he swung the door open. His eyes scanned the room until they fell on Logan, humbly sitting at his desk with a book in his lap. His arms rested on top of the paperback novel.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed on the smart side and he made his way over to the well-used desk. He leaned against it, crossing his arms across his chest and giving Logan a stern look.

“Why’d you leave?” Virgil asked.

Logan didn’t meet Virgil’s gaze and didn’t answer immediately.

“I haven’t got all day, nerd,” Virgil said. “It may be refreshing to see your face but I still need a damn good explanation for your departure.”

Logan was surprised by the first half of his final statement, but decided to speak. “You know why.”

“Do I?”

“No one in there cares about me or what I say. They don’t listen-”

“Hey-” Virgil was nowhere near surprised by this statement, but that didn’t mean it didn’t concern him.

“And it’s not like Thomas will do what I suggest anyway.”

“Logan...”

Logan met his gaze, a hard glare in his eyes. Virgil nearly flinched at the intensity.

“Don’t say it isn’t true, because you know it is.”

“It isn’t.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“It isn’t!” Virgil repeated defiantly. “Everyone in that living room today cares about you.”

“No they don’t,” Logan disagreed, crossing his arms like Virgil. “They rarely acknowledged I said anything, and when they did, they insulted me. If they do care, they don’t show it well.”

Virgil nodded. Logan had a point. “We show it terribly, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean we don’t care about you or want you around.”

“No one noticed my departure.”

“I literally tried to stop you.”

“You’re not everyone, V.”

Virgil couldn’t help the small smile tug at his face. Logan had never called him that before. He liked it very much. It went well with Virgil calling Logan ‘L’.

“I-I’m sorry, the nic-”

“I know I’m not,” Virgil interrupted, continuing the conversation so Logan couldn’t denounce the nickname or swear to never use it again. “But if I care for you, you can’t claim no one cares for you.”

“That may be true, however-”

“I know we’re really bad at showing our care and love for you-”

“Wait, who said anything about love-?”

“I did. As I was saying, we need to get better at showing our care and love for you. I need to get better. I’m sorry for that.”

“Virgil...”

“I know I’ve been mean in the past—threatening, even. I apologize. That time where I threatened you when Thomas first met Remus? I was scared. I was really scared about what might happen if you were to continue. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Logan stared at Virgil for a long second, surprised and in thought. Virgil was the anxious side—a dark side as well. His actions followed in accordance with his function.

“I accept your apology, Virgil.”

Logan figured that Virgil wasn’t as actively focused on not letting Logan speak as often as the other sides. At least, he was making an effort to do better. Accepting his apology made sense to Logan at that moment.

“Also, I’m sorry if I made it seem like I don’t care about what you say, or that I don’t want to listen. You made some very good points today; you always do. What you say often interests me. I don’t mean to make it seem otherwise.”

Logan nodded. “It’s alright, Virgil.”

“No, it’s not.” Virgil disagreed. “It’s gotten so bad that you don’t think we love you.”

Logan shrugged. “You don’t. It’s okay. Thomas doesn’t need me, anyway. He doesn’t listen to me and he’s not dead yet so that’s clear. I...” Logan trailed off, looking back into Virgil’s eyes. He paused for a minute, frowning. “Why did you come here?”

The question threw Virgil off. “What?”

“Why did you come here?” Logan repeated. ��I listened in; you said you were going to nap but instead you came here. No one else did. You could have napped. It was just a normal conversation. Why did you pursue this?”

Virgil stated at him for a long second, thinking of a response. “I don’t like it when you leave. It heightens my anxiety.”

“I apologize that that happens, but I can assure you it makes no difference whether I’m there or not. No one cares. It doesn’t matte-”

“See, Logan? Stop,” Virgil interrupted. “It’s really scary for me when you do things like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like leaving!” Virgil exclaimed. “Like saying you don’t matter when you’re Logic; something so crucial to every human being. Like saying we don’t care, that we don’t love you! Why do you think I came here? You fucking scare me, L! That kind of thinking can convince you to do the most terrible things that I shudder to even think about. I don’t want those lies to take hold of you!”

Logan had a pained look in his eye, torn between telling Virgil to dismiss his fears or apologize for causing them.

“I apologize for scaring you, but you shouldn’t care. Thomas doesn’t-”

“I am done with that excuse!” Virgil said strictly, standing straighter. “You don’t get to use it anymore. I don’t care whether Thomas needs you or not. Why? ‘Cause he does. Whether you or he knows it. But it doesn’t matter to me. You know what does matter to me?”

“What?”

“You. So listen here, Teach,” Virgil said sternly, leaning over him. “The others care about you.”

“No, they-”

“And even if they don’t, I do.” He took a deep breath. “Because of that, you can’t say that no one here cares for you or loves you. You’d have to kill me first, and even then, you have the others.”

“But they-”

“All that matters right now is that I want you to stay in our conversations. I want you to know that you matter, goddammit. You not being there scares me. I value your input and I savor your presence. I want you there. I care about you.”

Logan shook his head. “You shouldn’t.”

“Yes I should!” Virgil pulled Logan to his feet by the tie.

He stared into Logan’s eyes intensely, eyes narrowing and body hunching just a little to get closer to Logan’s face.

“But even if it was true that I shouldn’t, I would,” he continued. “I will get it through your thick, determined skull that you are cared for. And, I will listen to you. I will come to your room every night and you’re gonna tell me about some cool thing you learned, hmm?”

Logan hummed in return, but was still somewhat scared by the angry side in front of him.

“Because I am done panicking over your absences! Okay?”

Logan nodded.

“Now turn on the TV and fucking cuddle me, you loveable bitch.”

Logan could only chuckle at the fact that the words Virgil said varied immensely from his tone. He did as instructed, sitting criss-cross on the bed as he scrolled through Netflix.

He smiled at Virgil as the anxious side trudged over to the bed, looking like he was calming himself down. He sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows lying against the headboard. He pulled the logical side back from where he was sitting and against his chest. Logan almost squeaked.

“I gotta prove I love you somehow, Pocket Protector,” Virgil grumbled, tightening his hold on the now blushing side.

Virgil put his head on Logan’s shoulder as the logical side decided what to watch.

[miggydiaz]

For the salty ask 1, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 20, 22, 23 and 26 for cobra kai pretty please

My answers are so long, so I am putting this under the cut @wonderwolfballoon! Also I just noticed your Daniel icon I SWEAR I’M NOT DRAGGING HIM TO BE MEAN!!!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?* My biggest IDGI ships for CK are probably Elimetri or Kiaz. I’m not here to yuck other people’s yums or anything, but I do think there is something to the idea that Migueli isn’t popular because it’s a ship predicated on mutual respect for one another. Kiaz has the obvious enemies to lovers vibe and I just generally don’t sail those ships. Elimetri has... its problems, IMO, most especially around the idea that Demetri has to like... save Hawk from himself? Idk. I just like romances that I feel are based on love and mutual respect and not ...tropes.

 I am also not a Lawrusso shipper although I have a lot of those on my dash and you all are great! Again, not yucking yums! Daniel just makes me want to head butt him too much to pair him romantically with anyone 😂 I don’t even want his wife with him. He needs to self reflect~ 

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?* 

I once saw someone ship Amanda and Anoush and I noped out of that so fucking fast I almost tripped over myself. I’m not sure if they’re popular. I just think some people feel the need to get Amanda out of the way to sail their ship and stuck her with Anoush which... no. Just no. Let Amanda be a messy single queen with a martini hobby, thanks! 

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?* 

Not in CK. I’m lucky because I pretty much stick to my little Migueli bubble and I’m okay with that? Lmao lord knows the Squad on my dash is all about the DISCOURSE™️ so idk if I just don’t feel the need to get sucked into the wider ship wars because we have good healthy debates, but so far, so good. 

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?* 

I never hated it... I just didn’t have many feelings on shipping with this show in general at first. Then I was in the CK tag one day and I saw Migueli fan art. Then I discovered @afurioushawk‘s falconry series and it was all over for me after that! So fandom DID make me love a ship, just not one I hated.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? Oh boy. How much time do you have? In some instances, it’s a good thing season 3 happened because otherwise, this would be a multi-page essay on the problems with race and class privilege as it pertains to Sam LaRusso and just some... generally not nice comments about Demetri that I’m conflicted about because I’m not sure if the writers are intentionally trying to write him a specific way and it’s just not translating to me or what. But season 3 revamped both of their images with me a lot. I’m way more flexible in terms of Demetri, but lmao I was the number one Sam LaRusso hater for a minute there (or maybe number 2, I can think of at least 1 other person who was in that boat with me back in like... August/September, but I won’t call them out because I don’t want them to get hate...) However, I have grown a bit in my opinions of Sam, and even though I still think she’s responsible  for a lot of shit she NEVER gets held accountable for, I also think that’s a reflection of the adults around her too, and this includes my otherwise unproblematic queen, Amanda.

But honestly, my most hated character (other than the obvious villain that is Kreese) is Daniel. No matter how handsome Ralph Macchio looks in cable-knits, because Daniel has always been a sanctimonious, shit starting drama king and I say that about KK Daniel too. I’m not saying Daniel was the ~true villain~ or anything, or that Johnny was innocent -- I can only drink so much Red and Yellow Kool-Aid -- but Daniel’s always been annoying to me as a protagonist, and turning him into a smarmy wealthy car salesman who is also a class traitor did not do him any favors in my book. I will say, I also like Daniel more in season 3 than I have in previous season, but since he is the adult, I will be mad at him longer than I will be at the kids, ya feel?

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

 Johnny’s entire season 3 storyline. The sheer level of REGRESSION at every turn drives me bonkers. It’s like watching him go through all of the stumbling blocks of season 1 all over again, but without the “he’s learning! He’s going to make mistakes!” free pass that I was willing to give him the first time around. He regularly jeopardizes Miguel’s recovery and it’s played for laughs. He fucks up on every level with Robby. He spends most of his time running away when things get hard or too real. He drops the ball completely with Hawk, and like, not to put too fine a point on it, but a lot of Hawk’s issues are because Johnny put Hawk on this ‘flip the script and be a badass’ path and then offered him no guidance for how to walk that path and instead left him in the hands of Kreese. And then he has the nerve to go to Hawk and basically be like “I made you what you are!” lmao yeah Johnny, you sure did, that’s why he’s breaking peoples arms, hoss. And then all of the nonsense with Ali and Carmen, like... if you were planning on teasing KK fans with Ali and him getting back together, why write her as married in the first place? Why even tease the idea of Carmen and Johnny until after you were sure what you were going to do with Ali as a character? Instead, they do what they did in season 3 and it makes him look like a colossal jerk. So yeah. Literally every choice they made with Johnny this season, I hated.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? People who hate Tory are not valid, sorry not sorry.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? I would have kept Miguel entirely out of Tory and Sam’s beef. Or at least not directly inserted him into it like he was with the kiss. I know the writers thought it was necessary to push Tory to the point of inciting a fight at school, but I am just so exhausted over girls being unable to fight about anything but boys. Also I would bring Aisha back.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom? 

I am probably biased, but I still maintain it’s Migueli. Look, Miguel stood up to Kyler for Eli and Demetri both. Hawk joined CK because he saw what it could do for some skinny nerd who was getting his ass kicked. And he took to CK, really took to it! Even flourished before he started getting mixed messages. And he and Miguel were pretty much inseparable after that. They coordinated their wardrobes ffs. Hawk dubbed him El Serpiente and no one else calls him that — it’s Hawk’s nickname for him. Miguel confides in Hawk only secondary to Johnny, who is like a father to him. The entire Coyote Creek exchange shows they can fight and disagree but... well, to use the cliche, they don’t go to bed angry, you know? They’re square the very next day. Hawk is the first person at Miguel’s side when he gets kicked over the balcony and the LOOK he gives the second floor where Robby is? That boy is out for blood immediately to avenge Miguel. So much of his s3 behavior is fueled by that need for vengeance because MD is wholly responsible for what happened to Miguel. And Miguel is so confused and betrayed by Hawk’s shift in behavior, and yet still holds out hope that Hawk will see through Kreese’s BS and come with him to The Dojo I Refuse to Name. And when Hawk does make that deflection finally, he shows up at MD with Miguel. There’s so much more that I know I’m missing but whether someone ships them or not, that is a tried and true love and respect for one another, a willingness to fight for and defend one another that you don’t often see in TV friendships... or even in most tv relationships. And I just think that’s the best ❤️

22. Popular character you hate?

 Daniel, hands down. I mean... I don’t even necessarily hate Daniel, you know? I just think it’s really, pardon the pun, rich that a guy of immense wealth and privilege can’t get a therapist or turn to his far too patient wife for help with his existential crisis over his high school bully opening up a karate dojo to make some money and help a kid who is getting the crap kicked out of him. I get that Daniel’s narrative is necessary for the rivalry, but it does nothing to make him sympathetic as a character.

23. Unpopular character you love?

 Tory, definitely! Everyone hates her and then there’s me and the Squad over here banging away on our Coors Banquet cans yelling TORY RIGHTS! Seriously she catches so much flack for a teenage girl who is... the sole income provider for her family? At 17? While caring for a sick mom and a little brother? And fending off a creepy landlord? Tory has it so rough and then she meets a cool girl at her dojo who asks her to hang out at some fancy ass country club which is probably the nicest place Tory has ever been in, and then she gets talked down to and accused of being a thief and has another girl lay hands on her, only to find out that same girl is her new boyfriend’s ex and... ugh. I HATE that Tory gets shit all over when Tory and Sam wouldn’t even have beef if Sam had apologized to Tory as she SHOULD have. Tory isn’t innocent, but damn, I’d be pressed too.

 My other unpopular character I love? Nathaniel. Seriously that kid is THE best. He’s a literal child but is out there like I WILL FUCK YOU UP, even though he’s MD. Honestly, his Cobra Kai energy is so ferocious I won’t be surprised if he moves back to CK eventually. Anyway, I love him.


26. Most shippable character?

 Miguel, hands down. It’s because he’s so affable and sweet overall. And because his hair is so fluffy and pettable that no one can resist touching it. I like to imagine that one day he and Hawk are talking about their hair and Hawk makes a joke about how Miguel’s mane is getting so long that it’s going to be bigger than his own, and then he reaches out to ruffle it and internally has a bisexual meltdown because oh no IT’S SO SOFT AND NICE. But uh... anyway, yes. Definitely Miguel.

[lookbluesoup]

I’ve seen a lot of talk about anti anti culture lately and an emphasis on canceling people who write stories where bad things happen (i.e., rape, molestation, abuse). I’m really interested in facilitating a positive, open space here on my blog. So sharing my personal opinion about this at all is something I thought about for a while, and my hope is that it offers a helpful perspective as well as solidarity to people who use fiction the same way as me.

It’s not directed at anyone in particular or any event in particular. The tl;dr version is – people should always have a choice, they should be allowed to read or choose not to read, they should be allowed to write and share or choose not to write or share. Taking that choice away from people ultimately hurts survivors by making topics taboo and forcing everyone to fit a specific moral narrative for their pain or experiences to be valid.

Trigger Warnings: Rape, abuse, cancel culture, child molestation, depression, suicide, dogmatic religion, homophobia

1. These things DO happen in real life, and yes, they are harmful, and yes, reading about them can be triggering. Fully, completely acknowledge all of these things and have experienced my share of it firsthand.

2. People should be allowed to know before they get invested in a story whether triggers might be present so that they can choose to avoid it if they want to. It is their choice, and responsibility to decide not to read something that is appropriately tagged. (And please, please tag appropriately!)

3. Being interested in reading about dark subjects does not make a person evil. Somewhere between 31-57 percent of women admit to having rape fantasies. (x) That does not mean women want to be raped in real life. It does not mean that half the population of women are perverted degenerates. Reading fiction, like indulging in our fantasies, is a safe place to explore and enjoy sensations, dramas, and experiences we still don’t want in real life.

In less touchy examples - I love reading about gladiator arena battles! I love playing apocalyptic games where monsters jump out of the dark and scare the shit out of me! I do not want gladiator rings or to live in an apocalypse in real life! That doesn’t mean my interest in these stories or games condones them in real life. It doesn’t mean I think it was right that Rome irl forced slaves to fight to the death for entertainment.

4. I grew up in an environment without grey areas. The dogmatic Bible-beating hatemongering kind. Someone was good and did everything right according to my beliefs and worldview, or someone was bad and a direct threat to me. If I did something wrong, I had to punish myself physically and emotionally to make up for not being perfect. I was taught to despise myself. My parents believed there was only one correct way to view any situation - their way. I was petrified of punishment and learned that it wasn’t even worth trying to do better or accommodate someone else’s experiences because I would never measure up and would be condemned for doing something that wasn’t perfect. That is immensely, cripplingly harmful to an individual and to society. Cancel culture does the same thing. It excommunicates people who aren’t pure and allows others to get by with abuse because they are ‘teaching’ or an ‘authority on morality’ – and guess what? Nobody is pure. We are all human, we all make mistakes, and we are all learning. None of us have moral authority.

We cannot build a healthy, inclusive society if we are unsafe. We cannot be safe if we are not allowed to first admit that we ALL make mistakes and have prejudices that we can improve on. So we need to be kind and nonjudgmental whenever we have the chance to be. And we have to accept and respect that what’s fun or helpful or healing for us might be the opposite for someone else, or vice versa. Which is okay if we are respectful of each other’s boundaries and don’t try to force a way of being onto someone else without their consent.

5. With regard to writing, this means that people need to be allowed to explore difficult, even painful topics if they wish to. Even for fun. Even if someone else might not want or need to explore those same topics. That doesn’t make either person inherently evil or wrong. It just means we all have different needs and wants and diversity is normal. 

As a serious example, as someone who was molested by a teenage neighbor as a child, I can guarantee you that the fact these topics were considered so disgusting and taboo by society made it very difficult for me to cope. It was not my fault, and I’ve healed from it, but when it happened I didn’t even understand what was going on, and the guilt and self-blame that followed me for years afterward were almost crippling. So yes – what happened to me in real life was wrong, inexcusable behavior. But censorship did not protect me. First it made me ignorant and vulnerable to manipulation, and then it made me feel dirty, disgusting, and isolated. 

What I needed was a safe avenue to talk about it and the thoughts and sensations it stirred up, in order to heal. I needed to know it was okay to have automatic thoughts – they were a result of fear and trauma or even just being human, not a moral failing on my part. I needed to actually talk about and explore what I had felt openly, and how that related to the rest of my life, before I could move past it and have a healthy view of intimate acts that weren’t soaked in guilt and self-loathing.

I read a book after that happened, set in ancient Rome, where pederasty took place. And the victim was allowed to admit that he’d enjoyed some of what had happened to him while enslaved, and was then assured that even though he didn’t hate everything that he experienced, it didn’t make him to blame, nor his abuser right, and those thoughts/feelings did not define him or his morality. That has been immensely healing to me – but this ‘grey’ exploration of a topic is not compatible with mainstream cancel culture.

Or alternatively, I watched the series 13 Reasons Why. I hated it. It felt like nothing but shock value entertainment and not a respectful management of topics like suicide that were very, VERY real to me. Except for someone else I knew who had also struggled with suicidal thoughts and impulses, 13 Reasons Why was immensely validating. They were glad that a series showed such graphic representation of these events in a way that couldn’t be ignored or brushed over. What had been hurtful to me, was empowering to them.

I believe it is not mine, or anyone else’s place, to decide that a piece of media should be across the board banned because of what it might do. Because while some of us share traumas, we still each have different experiences, needs, and healing processes.

Such strict censorship allows for only victims who meet a certain “standard” to receive care and healing. The rest are left to suffer or are even punished further.

All of us have gone through life with vastly different levels of privilege, opportunity, expectations, etc, which leads to vastly different interpretations of the world, none of which are 100% correct or true.

6. Cancel culture hurts LGBTQ+ rights. I’m neither straight or cis, and I might never have learned that if I hadn’t been able to build friendships outside of my social circle who allowed me to integrate and ask questions without being obligated to agree with them. Where I grew up, there was immense prejudice against gay people. My cousin was disowned and disinherited for coming out. I was sheltered from anyone who might argue for gay rights, and discouraged from looking at or being curious of the deep south’s version of ‘problematic.’ That’s what I was taught – to be uncomfortable toward, judgmental, and condemning. If I had been on tumblr during those years and gotten ‘cancelled’ I would have been even more suspicious and condemning of Others, and even more determined that my way was the only right one. I specifically avoided tumblr social circles because I ‘knew’ they hated ‘people like me.’ It’s not exclusive. This trend where people become even more convinced to pick an opposing side because the Other person is being hateful is one of the first things they teach you in social psychology. 

The kind of intolerance that goes with mobbing people for saying anything they consider problematic at all is the same cruelty that makes me unable to tell my parents I identify as agender or pan. It’s what gets women stoned to death and gays beheaded. It’s not moral. 

What changed my point of view was friendships. One of my friends came out as gay and my world turned upside down because here was someone that didn’t match any of the stereotypes I’d been taught to fear. He wasn’t hateful or condemning of me, he was one of the most thoughtful and peaceful people I knew. That is what started to change things for me, and made it safe for me to explore other ways of thinking and interpretations of scripture. Because I cared about him more than I needed to be right.

7. Nobody is obligated to interact with someone who is being violent or hateful to them. You’re not even obligated to interact with someone you disagree with, if the topic is too painful or you simply don’t want to talk about it. Keep yourselves safe. But within the world of writing, live and let live. If someone posts a story you don’t like, and they’ve tagged it appropriately, please, please consider that your experience is not universal. You have the choice not to read that story. Someone else might need to read it. Let them, and don’t shame them for it. 

[serpentsapple]

(This post includes major spoilers for The Grisha Trilogy and the Shades of Magic series.)

@dykeblight replied to our introductory post with the following:

alright bud since u decided to put this in the main tags of the books ur critiquing ur ready to hear my take on this. first of all the wording in this post is pretentious as hell and it bothered me all thru out reading it. second of all, let’s lay some shit down: the only books ive read discussed in this post are adsom and tgt, and while i agree that tgt isn’t the most radically feminist book series out there, i have to ask: why are u focused on women writing this? why is this post generalizing

horrible male authors but name dropping female ones? alinas journey was largely about her realizing that she could make her own choices. about her not needing to be queen or supreme ruler or some shit. about how she could literally settle down with the worlds most boring dude and still be happy. anyways, beyond that: adsom. first of all, whenever someone pulls the “not like other girls” card for lila, i have to pull the “she’s genderfluid” card. it wasn’t Explicitly stated in the series, and v

has expressed regret for that, so it’s probably going to be more obvious in the next series. also, adsom is very much a period piece. you couldn’t be a woman in the early nineteenth century doing what lila did without like, yknow, *not being a woman.* the threat she got on that first ship— a period piece! if it was a male author, then that’s gross. but it’s not, a woman wrote it! lila also proceeded to burn the whole goddamn ship down. sometimes authors don’t want to write traditionally feminine

characters!!! sometimes women want to write about what THEY can relate to! and ve schwab, as a queer woman, probably did that. so now we come back to the question of WHY are you calling out only female authors for this? you could have accomplished the same goal by just including books and authors that you deemed Respectable. not to be that bitch, but there was literally no reason for you to post this lmfao. i think we should first tackle the issue that is men having access to keyboards, and

maybe then we can broaden our horizons by critiquing everything women do thats decidedly not perfect.                            

We created this blog to discuss these topics, so we welcome other opinions and interpretations!

To reiterate our goal and perhaps clarify... male authors already receive enough publicity and analysis - to the point they eclipse, at times, their female peers, even when it comes to writing female characters. How wonderful of them to treat fictional women as fellow human beings! (How shameless of others to treat them as their personal sexual fantasy!) Yet we would like to hear what women have to say about themselves. It is why we focus exclusively on their works.

Furthermore, we believe these works as worthy of analysis as any text written by a man. And it is precisely because of this conviction - their books potentially as grandiose, as mediocre as any man’s - that we will not refrain from criticising them. To treat them differently would be implicitly agreeing with the notion they aren’t as intellectually engaging as men’s writings.

Moreover, we are not advocating for “feminist” books from women. In fact, we dislike this qualifier: too often misattributed, rarely useful, always commercial. We desire convincing female characters, as talented as they are flawed, as just as they can be immoral. Thus, while we have grown tired of uncreative, unnecessary sexism in fantasy, we are not expecting perfect little militants in every story. We expect to be moved and stunned, to be left inspired or reflecting on what we read.

I hope this has cleared up our intent with the blog. Now, for the specific series discussed...

While I could see this be Bardugo’s aim for Alina’s journey, I disagree with it being well executed. Narratively speaking, I do not think Alina was treated fairly and was able to make true choices. Throughout all three books, Alina remained unobservant and somewhat self-centered, never challenging the affirmations of others and instead regarding them as truth. Let’s take the example of the Darkling: she accepts his supposed initial good intentions and views him, to the very end, as some kind of lost and anguished “boy”. Yet that isn’t what the text shows - on the contrary, the Darkling is a hollow character that spent centuries sitting on his behind, doing nothing for his fellow Grisha. Alina is never given the chance to realise this and reevalute what happened to her.

Beyond this, I feel like Alina’s journey was contrived from the start. Bardugo does not allow her to see beyond the words of others, nor does she allow her to actually grow. Alina’s crush on Mal and her fixation on remaining with him - despite him disliking what she is! - stems from a child’s anxiety and solitude. Instead of becoming her own woman, making her own choices and yes, having to face losing relationships, Alina regresses to the safety of her childhood, powerless and normal, just like Mal. Let us remember that, to remain with him, she sealed her powers within herself, endangering her health! So symbolically, it is a slap in the face: just when she embraced her powers - meaning letting go of her fears, of Mal -, she loses it all and go back to square one.

This is why I don’t find Alina’s journey satisfying. Even if it hurts, I wish to see female characters confronted to their fears and their flaws, and grow from them*. That is not what we witnessed with Alina. And: why is it that female characters must be “depowered”? Why does the Darkling (and Ilya Morozova) get to keep his immense powers, must live with his guilt, yet Alina loses every and any scrap of magic? Why is she punished for her greed so much, when she hardly is the greediest? (This echoes also Genya’s “punishment”, so heavily tied to her being a beautiful woman and beauty being, in Bardugo’s world, a key quality for women. Nikolai’s monstruous transformation is cruel but never specifically targeted at his sex.)

Why is it female characters only whose “happy” ending involve going back to their boyfriend’s house, complete with potential children? In a fantasy world, is it the best we can offer to these characters? Why does “making her own choice” usually involve them being unambitious and - I am barely caricaturing - happy housewives? Where are the female characters being greedy, powerful to the point of madness, and fascinatingly ruthless? Where are the genius, the good but scheming inventors and princesses? Where are the female Darklings and the female Nikolais?

Yes, it may not be Alina’s story and that’s alright. But reading the story she received, I could not help wondering: is it truly her story, or is it her story in a narrative unfair to women?

As for Lila... what Schwab stated confusingly in interviews or twitter threads cannot be used to analyse the text itself, though it may help. In this case, it holds a very different perspective from what she may affirm outside of it, so let’s keep close to what she wrote.

I disagree that it is a period piece. Her series is firmly set in a fantasy version of our world, with four alternate but equally real Londons, and with interactions between them that differentiate her England from ours. She chose to keep this England similar to ours, so the departure from it could be obvious; she chose, again, to have Lila threatened with rape by sailors even in Red London, her full invention. She chose, still, to never mention the miserable reality of lots of poor women like Lila in our England - namely, prostitution. She picked what suited her, as authors do, yet could not come up with any other plot than sexual assault. That she is a woman does not excuse her utter lack of imagination on that front! I find the notion that female characters are condemned to sexual threats depressing, on top of insulting towards authors who still strive to be creative.

And this is all ignoring what Schwab forced her other female characters to endure, which is sexual slavery, somewhat coerced pregnancies and social isolation, plus being sexist caricatures and butchered so men could be sad about it. In that context, what is Schwab exactly saying about women, if even her heroine is misogynistic and desperately trying to escape this reality? If Lila isn’t a woman - which she is in the text, she never denies being one, she only affirms being different, meaning a full human being! -, does that mean women’s place is in caricature and distress and death? If she is, then must they reject their womanhood and deride other women to be in the spotlight?

And this is all, again, ignoring that Schwab who, yes, admitted wanting to write a female character she wished to see in fiction, that resembled her... had Lila’s whole development derailed in favour of male characters. Lila’s ambition and excessiveness vanished in a third book dedicated to temptation! Lila’s anger and recklessness receded in front of Holland, all so we could learn about his sad backstory. Which involved, as salt to the wound, the stereotypes of a greedy girlfriend and the ever failing mother Schwab is so fond of.

Our post never suggested that women should not write non traditionally feminine women. Rather, that would be quite refreshing! I would love to read about these women that we hardly see.

Is it what Schwab wrote, though? Lila indeed crossdresses and appears androgynous enough to sometimes pass as a man (not always, in a manner that is most convenient to the author). Yet: she constantly mocks other women for being vapid, gossiping, feminine, in a word weak. Yet: Schwab has her, in the second book, attend a ball dressed femininely and feeling insecure about it, all to state she is - quoting! - “not most girls” and have Kell, her love interest, compliments her. She has the happy tomboy reaffirmed as able to be feminine and beautiful that way! How is that not depressing for every woman and girl who never want to be feminine? Why did Schwab choose to have her in a dress instead of a suit, like Lila would probably have preferred? Why did Schwab choose to strictly divide women and men into two categories, dress-wearing and not-dress-wearing? Why is Lila alone in her plight as an androgynous woman? Why didn’t this fantasy world have women and men dressed in a way they felt comfortable with?

This isn’t a period piece. Schwab was free to make that choice... and she did not. I would add, too, that women in real life have always struggled and fought against misogyny. They were women and they were still complex human beings and they still tried to live as comfortably as they could. Sometimes they failed, yes, because society wouldn’t want them to. But women like Lila have existed, and behaved like her, and dressed like her, and dreamed as big as her. Why should not we expect as much of fiction, then?

Sidenote: I am especially critical of that awful “tomboy turns into a lady” trope that fandom will seize it and run. It is disheartening to see countless edits and fanarts of Lila depicting her as feminine instead of androgynous as she was written, and often in feminine clothing at that. So if even the narrative later ends up confirming it...

*Or perhaps spiral down, willingfully blind. Alina’s story isn’t supposed to be a tragedy, however, so this does not apply here.

(If you don’t mind, I would like to hear why you found the post’s wording pretentious?)

[wizardhecker]

ollie’s book rec list

hey y’all i got libby this last year and its expanded my reading a bunch. I talked about what books I liked on twitter earlier but I wanted to move that over here. These books aren’t in order of preference, just when I read them. I’ll probably be updating this list throughout the year as well. 

Stuff I loved:

Gideon the Ninth- Tamsyn Muir: Probably my favorite book from this year, I’m eagerly awaiting for the sequel. WAs everything I wanted in a book, witty and clever. Lesbian necromancer and buff swordgirl end up taking part in a contest that entangles them in murder and mysteries. Its sci-fi but not hard sci-fi and sticks mostly to one planet. I’m witholding judgement on the ending until I read the second book because I have some conflicting feelings about it. Tags: F/F romance, bones, so many bones, Sci-fi, mystery

Ancillary Justice - Ann Leckie: Told from the perspective of a ship AI that was once many different ancillaries. The story jumps back and forth between the present where she inhabits one body and the past to how that came to occur. It was super unique and engaging. I’ve seen this on a few lists for LGBT content which maybe there is in later books but that tag comes from the the ship AI being confused by gender since her language just uses “she/her” pronouns for everything. Therefor, yes technically any romances that occur are queer because every single character is referred to via she/her. I love language stuff like that though. Theres so many details that I was deeply fascinated by. Tags: sci fi, space politics, clones, unique perspective. 

The Raven Tower - Ann Leckie: Similar to her other book above, she plays with storytelling and narrator perspective. This is from the perspective a god who is a giant rock and switches between past and present. It was a bit slow at first, as it is a rock telling the story, but its well worth it and the ending was so fulfilling. I REALLY enjoyed the world building, everything felt neatly crafted as piece by piece the machine comes together and turns slowly. The protagonist human is also explicitely trans. Tags: politics, fantasy, god wars, trans protagonist.

Swordspoint - Ellen Kushner: An older book, but focuses around the politics of a city where swordsmen fromt he lower city are hired to fight for the aristocrats in the higher city. Follows the best swordsman and his [insufferable] scholar boyfriend, but switches perspectives a lot. Its fun, I might reread it. Tags: heavy politics, aristocrat bullshit, M/M romance, swordfighting!

Kings of the Wild - Nicholas Eames: This book read Very much like someone’s first classic D&D campaign, for better or for worse. I Loved it because the heart, passion, and sincerety put into it was so palpable and it feels like a campaign where everyone comes in with goofy joke characters and then midway through they get Really into it and suddenly everyone’s crying because that joke backstory they made has implications. Its about a bunch of retired legendary old men adventurers who get called back for one more job - to rescue the leader’s daughter. Tags: Sad old men, good fathers, fantasy, gay wizard, tabletop inspired.

Bloody Rose - Nicholas Eames: The sequel to the previous book (though it could be read alone). It really goes into more depth and analyzes some of the previous worldbuilding more, pulling apart some of the problems in the world that were swept away previously. I liked it slightly less but its still very good. It follows a bard joining up with an adventuring band to fight a...dragon? Maybe. Tags: F/F romance, are monsters people, necromancy, dragons, fantasy.

The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker: A newly made golem woman and a Djinn who was trapped for thousands of years both in up in New York City in 1900, and their paths eventually intertwine. Really amazing perspective of Jewish and Arab immigrant communities and cultures in NYC. Switches point of view through many characters in the communities who come in and out of their lives. Tags: Supernatural beings, urban fantasy, historical.

The Monster of Elendhaven - Jennifer Giesbrecht: Very short book I read in one sitting about terrible evil men doing terrible evil things. One of them is unkillable, the other one is sorcerer and theyre tied together through a dark fate to destroy the world. I was deeply into the mythology and the way everything wove together. You know I’m a sucker for weird god stuff and I was provided for. Uhh trigger warning for a lot of stuff here, graphic violence, sexual assault, etc. Tags: Evil stuff, magic, dark mythology and folklore, capitalism, revenge plots.

The Black God’s Drums - P. Djeli Clark: Another short one read in one sitting, set in an alternate post-civil war setting New Orleans where a girl has a Goddess of storms living inside her. Tags: alternate history, bi protagonist, gods and goddesses. 

The Claidi Journals - Tanith Lee: So this was a reread of a kind of obscure series I read when I was a kid and I immensely enjoyed. Caveat that it is a young-adult series but it was such a fascinating and vibrant blend of fantasy magic and sci-fi, there’s little blend between the magic and technology of the realm. It’s about terrible families doing terrible things and the women who got accidentally caught up in it. It also has one of the most interesting women characters I’ve ever read who doesn’t even appear much in the books but whose legacy impacts every character. Tags: Science fantasy, aristocrat bullshit, bad moms, hetero but chill. 

Mixed Feelings:

Uprooted - Naomi Novik: Reclusive wizard who holds an evil forest at bay takes on an apprentice girl who gets entangled in further politics of the nation. I got Really into the worldbuilding, plot, and writing of this book and it hooked me pulling me along. However I have a major frustration with it that really prevents me from putting it in the “loved” category. If I could edit out about 20 lines I’d have found it perfect. I know other folks who disagree with me though so I’ll still recomend it. Tags: wizards, nature magic, politics, grumpy tower wizard, unfortunately heterosexual.

Of Fire and Stars - Audrey Coulthurst: Lesbian princesses and arranged marriages uh oh. Ones a ranger jock the others a sorcerer. Its fine and cute, I wasn’t really happy with the antagonist reveal at the end though. Tags: Aristocrat bullshit, politics, F/F romance, arranged marriage angst, forbidden magic.

Wayward Son - Rainbow Rowell: I really enjoyed the first book of this series and found it a delightfully self-indulgent transparent Harry Potter derivation. That sort of falls apart in the second book where having to build off something that worked as a one-off just doesn’t extend to a more filled out story and left me feeling unsatisfied. But, once again, the world building is delightful and I’m charmed by the magic system and a British person’s opinion of America. Tags: M/M romance, magic, America!, roadtrip, vampires

The Last Sun - K.D. Edwards: Modern fantasy tarot inspired world building. The main character is the last remnant of the “Sun” house that was ripped apart in a terrible way. He has PTSD and is hired to find a missing man, along the way uncovering a deeper conspiracy involving his house and past. It was fine, its a good book. I just wasn’t into it that much. Also massive trigger warnings for sexual assault, torture, etc. Tags: M/M romance, mystery, gritty, magic. 

Vicious - V.E. Schwab: I enjoyed it and it was a short quick read, but for some reason I’ve never been able to get into V.E. Schwab much. Not sure why. Man with power over pain is released from prison and seeks vengeance on his former friend who put him there - who is now a superhero, and adopts a young girl necromancer in the process. Tags: villains, everyone is evil, superpowers, modern, necromancy, unwilling father figure

The City Stained Red - Sam Sykes: I really just started skimming while reading this one tbh. Trash man swordfighter and his disfunctional adventuring party trying to collect their payment in a terrible city. It felt like someone’s D&D campaign but in the worst way where everyone is an edgelord dark backstory. I honestly didn’t like a single character. But, that’s fine it just wasn’t for me. I see this get put on lists for having a bi-character. Which I guess technically but I wasn’t a huge fan of how that became relevant. Tags: tabletop inspired but insecure about it, gritty, terrible city, terrible people, bi protagonist

[pandawritespoorly]

Concussion

Author’s Note: No, this isn’t me notifying you of a head injury I’ve gotten that will keep me from writing. My health is just the same. Someone over on Ao3 said they had an exam on Monday so Tuesday would work well for bonus updates. Unfortunately, I didn’t write as much as I wanted to for there to be a bonus chapter of With Time today, so have an unrelated one-shot. Best of luck to anyone with exams out there.

I've never had a concussion before, at least not one that I can remember (two year old me makes poor decisions), so this is all from basically symptom lists for concussions. The slurred speech is probably a little hard to read, and I probably should have just added 'slurred' to the dialogue tags instead of trying to write it out, but it's too late to fix. My extended weekend is over and I have classes today so I don't have the time. This is a bit of a mess, but I wanted to post something today, so here we are.

Summary: Slight AU here, basically the cure doesn't work on the caster, which is to say the Ladybug holder. Marinette knows this, but has kept it from Chat. After one battle she's too tired to hide the injury from him and he gets suspicious.

The magical ladybugs fly over the city, cleaning up the damage of the fight. It’d mostly been confined to a singular warehouse - the victim being a disgruntled employee of said warehouse - and Chat can’t take his eyes off of the sight.

It really is miraculous.

The previously destroyed lights come back, and turn on, flooding the interior with light.

A distressed squeak brings his attention back to his partner, who is slightly bent over, hands covering her face.

He walks over to her, “You good, Bug?”

She waves him off, eyes still shut, “Yeah, yeah, juss… lights. Wasn’ ready…”

That… makes sense. He hates to be clingy, but he can’t shake the sense that something is wrong. It could be due to her slurred speech, but he’s just got this feeling.

After all, he’s well aware she doesn’t always have the best sleep schedule. Sometimes, especially for later-in-the-day akumas like this one, her speech isn’t as professional as she likes.

“Alright.”

She had gotten hit pretty bad during the battle. Not that she’d said anything, but her delayed reactions had been enough to clue him in.

Maybe she had a bit of a headache left over? He’d had that before, or just plain soreness.

The outside is darker, and she eventually looks up at him.

Er- she looks near him, rather. Her eyes are looking at the right height, but she seems to be looking slightly to his side, though she can’t seem to decide where he is exactly. She seems to settle on what must be the middle, which is still slightly off.

The concerned feeling only grows.

“You good, LB?” he asks again, cocking his head slightly. This throws her off, as she tries to keep meeting his eyes.

“Yeah… ‘m fffii- gooodd…” she mumbles.

“Let’s head out then. It’s late, we should probably rest.” He turns, pretending to be focusing on using his staff to get to the rooftops, when he’s actually keeping an eye on her.

She nods, which seems to be a mistake. Immediately, her hand moves to her head, and she looks about ready to fall over.

She’s either really sleep deprived, or something is wrong.

“You’re looking a little dizzy there,” he comments.

“Juss…” she pauses, seeming to gather herself, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

The words take an immense effort and he frowns. She seems to notice his suspicion, and hurriedly swings her yo-yo to bring herself to the roof. He’s right behind her.

She’s clearly unbalanced, whether from whatever is going on or her rushed landing.

He puts a gentle hand on her back to steady her, leading her farther from the edge.

“Okay, so I think we both know I don’t believe you.”

She glares.

“Prove it. Just walk to the other side of the roof, in a straight line,” he gestures at the flat space before them.

She does it, though she mumbles something along the lines of ‘not drunk’. He ignores her and watches her walk. Or, rather, her attempt to.

She’s stumbling slightly, and there’s no way that she’d be able to make it across the rooftops if she’s struggling so much with what should be an easy task.

“Ladybug…”

The heroine huffs, turning to him and raising an eyebrow under the mask. The look she’s giving him would typically be enough to make him back off, but not tonight.

He opens his baton, walking over to her as he types a simple sentence into it.

He turns it to her, “Can you read this?”

Ladybug looks at it. She keeps looking. She squints. She grabs it to hold it further, then closer, then turns to him, “Y’rrrr sc’eeenn is bl’rrrryy.”

“No. No it isn’t. What happened?” He rests a hand on her shoulder.

She purposefully won’t meet his eyes, “N’thin’...”

“My lady, you must have gotten hurt before the fight. Maybe when you got hit earlier it made it worse?” He knows she doesn’t like bringing up her civilian side, or showing weakness, and it’s the best explanation he can think of.

She pauses, clearly conflicted, “No.”

Alright then. He’ll get to the bottom of this.

“Do you know what happened?”

“Ye- c’ncusssioonnn’...”

That… that makes sense.

“When did that happen?” They’d had a fight just a few days ago, and she’d been fine.

“...fighttt…”

“You got in a fight?!” That didn’t sound like her at all.

“Nnno!” she shakes her head quickly, shaking her hands to indicate that wasn’t the case. She seems to become dizzy, and it takes some time for her to continue, “...’kuuumma.”

“What?” He’d seen her get hit, but he’d also seen the cure. Everything should be fixed, “That doesn’t make sense. The cure-”

Ladybug tenses slightly at the word, and he looks at her critically.

She’s standing stiffly, not meeting his eyes. She’s chewing on her lip, a nervous habit he’s noticed from their over one year of partnership.

“Ladybug.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Ladybug. What’s going on?” He doesn’t raise his voice, or even let any emotion in. He just says it flatly, doing his best to imitate her Look™.

“N’thinnn’... ‘t’sss ss’upid…” she slurs, “Doesss’n madderrr…”

“Ladybug.”

Nothing.

“Why didn’t the cure heal you?”

She still won’t meet his eyes. He’s got a sinking feeling in his chest.

Chat doesn’t like this. Not at all.

He grabs both of her shoulders and turns her to look at him, he lowers his voice to speak softer, “Ladybug. Please. I’m worried.”

Oh that does it. She looks so guilty, and mumbles something he can’t catch.

“What was that?”

“Cure doess’n worr’ on me. Neverrr hasss.”

Never.

The cure has never worked on her.

This whole time.

Every. Single. Fight.

Every injury.

…

She mistakes his silence as something negative, “I jusss’ didn’ wan’ worrrry you. ‘M fi-”

He tightens his grip on her shoulders to cut her off. “No. No you’re not.”

“Juss’ a c’ncusssioonnn’.... ‘ve ha’ worsssse…”

“That’s my issue,” he says firmly, “This whole time, every battle. Have people been asking questions in your civilian life?”

Her silence is enough of an answer for him.

“Oh, Bugaboo, I know you didn’t want to worry me, but you should have told me. I could have-”

She shakes her head lightly, ‘Nuthin’ youuu… ‘ann dooo…”

“Still.”

They’ll just have to agree to disagree for now.

“There’s no way I can let you go across the city like this. But with identities…”

She gives him a look.

Alright. He can’t take her home, and she can’t come to his house.

Or… can he? After Mom’s disappearance, Father had all but shut down the rest of the mansion except for the eight or so rooms they still used regularly. The place is huge, and no one goes to most of those places.

He’d just been to one of Mom’s old sitting rooms, looking for a quieter place to just rest. It felt like home, and reminded him or her.

It was one of the few places in the building that didn’t feel like a cold, dead, prison.

“You’re going to have to trust me on this Bug.”

She nods immediately, which makes his heart soar. That look she gave him when he implied she wouldn’t trust him… Kwami, she’s amazing.

“Alright, get on my back, then close your eyes,” he instructs.

After some struggle, he’s got a bundle of Bug on his back. Her arms and legs wrap around to his front, and he’s well aware she’s strong enough to hold herself up.

“Ready? Eyes closed?” he checks.

She hums softly into his ear from where her head sits. She’s tired, poor bug.

He knows his way along the rooftops by now, and soon enough the mansion is in sight.

Ladybug’s inability to hide her concussion was probably from a lack of sleep, if the way she is already half asleep is anything to go by.

Honestly, only his partner could fall asleep while being carried across the rooftops of Paris while still holding on securely.

Chat locates the window to the sitting room, entering silently, and shutting it behind him.

He sets his partner down on the couch, carefully extracting himself from her arms. She frowns.

He gives her hand a squeeze, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once in the hallway, he whispers, “Claws In.”

Plagg floats beside Adrien, “You did good kid. She got hit pretty bad.”

“Yeah. I’m going to get a blanket. She’d probably want some water. Oh! And ibuprofen! Do you think a pillow would be good too?”

Plagg snickers, “There’s already pillows in there, but my bets are on you.”

“What?”

“I’d bet my camembert you’ll be her pillow of choice.”

Adrien’s face reddens, and he decides he should really get that blanket.

---

When he returns, carrying a soft blanket, ibuprofen, and a glass of water, he transforms and enters the room once more as quietly as he can. He’s careful to lock the door.

Ladybug hasn’t moved from where he left her on the couch. Her arms and legs are partially off the couch, and her pigtails are loose and messy. She looks like she might be drooling a little.

She’s absolutely gorgeous.

He doesn’t realize that he’s purring lightly until Ladybug begins to stir, “Cha’?”

She props herself up slightly, glancing his way blearily and shaking her pigtails loose. When that doesn’t work, she just wills the ribbons away, letting her disheveled hair fall around her shoulders,

She is positively angelic.

Utterly radiant.

He snaps back to reality.

Hurrying over to her, he holds out the water and ibuprofen, “I got you some water, and ibuprofen.

She smiles at him gratefully, taking both. When she sets the water aside, she turns to where he’s crouching beside the couch.

She seems confused, and pats the spot beside her.

He can hear Plagg cackling in his mind.

“Y’ neee’ resss’ tooo…” she manages. She’s probably trying to avoid speaking with how she’s slurring.

“Alright, alright,” he huffs, faking being bothered. Chat throws the blanket over both of them, and Ladybug leans into his shoulder.

Plagg was right. Of course.

He takes her yo-yo off her, because there’s no way that would be comfortable to sleep with. He takes off his baton as well, setting it to wake him up in about five hours, and then placing it next to the yo-yo.

Ladybug is already out, which is probably for the best seeing as she wasn’t in great shape. He hugs her lightly, and pulls the blanket around her tighter.

He rests his eyes momentarily, this is nice. As he falls asleep, he slides downward, unable to stay sitting up. Ladybug falls with him.

By the time they wake up, they’re cuddled together, her head under his chin. Both have their arms wrapped around their partner.

It’s a good night.

---

Author’s Note: They're precious.

Oh, I wrote another thing last night, and I'd like to post it today, but I want to proofread it more. Expect it late afternoon.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

[wooowthanks]

An open letter about my time at Grace Youth Klang.

I first joined when I was 13. It felt like I didn’t fit in - I was too old for GCC, too young to truly understand the youth. I flitted around, unsteady, slowly learning, slowly observing. But I thrived, eventually, even though I remained the “quiet” one there. I was forced into a zone far from my comfort. I learnt about media, taking photos and videos while not knowing what the butt an ISO was. I helped in events, in fundraising, in leading teams in camp even though I was definitely NOT a people person. I won, three years in a row (still a braggable achievement). I lead the worship team (tried), working my way up from being a backup singer. I learnt how to harmonise. I became a “leader”.

I’ve noticed - so many people, so many adults, see the easier parts. They see us hanging around at the foyer, laughing too loudly while collecting forms. They see us always at church, playing games, never leaving Taman Chi Liung restaurant. They see us taking an Instagram story of Kevin and Teo playing around, of us lying down on the somewhat clean 2nd Hall floors.

But what they focus on is this - us speaking up when we disagree with something. Our tendency towards “defying authority”. Our “laziness” when we can’t commit to yet another thing, yet another event. Our lack of cooperation. Our inability towards working with whatever person they put to lead us. Our inability to submit to authority. Our inability to bow down, and accept things for what it is.

What they don’t see, what they didn’t see - we were still just kids. We were leaders yes, but we were still youths who didn’t have a pastor to guide them. They didn’t see that we were still young people, trying to make it better for the younger ones, figuring out the unknown slowly. They didn’t see the time we so carefully carved out, from piles of university assignments to come to church for practice. They didn’t see the Sunday lunches we take so late to collect forms, and the times we leave our late lunches to collect more from those who couldn’t do it earlier. They didn’t see the personal problems we had- the burnout of giving and not receiving, the family problems, the friendships lost, the emotional turmoil. They didn’t see the numerous night long meetings held to discuss ways to improve the youth, ways to be better, to foster the spirit of excellence in everything we do. They didn’t see the times we unfailingly attended our prayer meetings and cell groups on Fridays after hours long of standing in the KTM, or the month long trainings or camp meetings we had every Saturday morning. They didn’t see the WhatsApp messages that the leaders sent to keep up with the youth, they didn’t see how those texts grew into friendships that were/ are treasured. They didn’t see that we didn’t have the time for ourselves, because we so willingly invested it in the youth.

...how could they say that we were cliquish, when all we had were one another?

Being a leader wasn’t great, but it was good, sometimes. I truly treasure all that happened in my years serving. I learnt to get a thick skin, because people are going to tell you that your work isn’t good enough and that you aren’t cut out for it, even though you’ve already given years. Because after serving non stop and feeing burnt out... maybe I just “wasn’t made for serving”, right?. I’ve gotten the chance to meet so many types of people - from the ones who will preach about knowing every single name and yet never refer you by your name despite asking for it 3 times, to the friends who will cry with you in the KTM, ready with a hug, when empty cans start to make noise. I’ve gotten to learn about myself, to work my way towards the career I will ultimately choose, I’ve gotten my first hand experience on handling clients civilly, when someone wanted the youth logo to be rainbow coloured. I’ve learned to stand up for myself, to stand up for others, to ask questions always, because it’s the right thing to do. You build each other up, you correct one another. You do not keep quiet when you know something is wrong.

Being a “leader” isn’t a cool title to bear, nor does it mean the cool custom shirts that we made and paid for ourselves at the start for use in formal events. It means sweeping the 2nd Hall floor, stacking up the chairs, early mornings and late nights for preparations, meetings with mistakes thrown at you, trainings that you sacrifice weekends for, agendas you disagree with being pushed at you. It means doing the things that people don’t see you doing, and getting called lazy, anyway.

I’m not going to say that I’ll forget the bad times here. I’ll remember the terrible politics in a place that’s supposed to be used to glorify god, I’ll remember the adults that smile at you and gossip behind your back, I’ll remember the manipulation, the lies, the misuse of “God told me to do it” or “God spoke to me” to justify a decision that is so clearly not thought through. I’ll remember the hypocrites who’ve showed everyone just how holy they are, and how they can never do wrong. I’ll remember the people who “cared” about the youth so much that they spread around about how the leaders just stayed because they cared for their positions.

When I attended SIB that one rare time, I remember someone sharing about a youth saying this to a pastor, “thank you for letting us make mistakes”. Maybe that’s what’s lacking all this while - the ability to make mistakes and to grow from them without fear. We’ve made our mistakes, yes, but each one has turned to a weight that constantly adds unto our shoulders, a fault to add unto a long list of how we always fall short.

We’ve made our mistakes, but so has some of those in authority. But instead of giving the same treatment we’ve received, we’re expected to submit to authority, unfailingly, unquestionably. But well... we’re not the first to leave, and we’re not even the second. And in all of this - we weren’t the common denominator.

Honestly, I could go on and on. About their faults, about my hurt, about my own faults. But from all of that, apart from the lessons I’ve learnt, what I’ll want to remember is this: the time Aaron Koh spilled coffee into Dillen’s nose when we all lied down in the main hall, tired from setting up for Starry Night. The time we found puppies in the drain and washed the stink out of them and got them adopted. Making wire tags for Hydrowar in the second hall. Our voices cracking when we can’t reach a note. Early first day of camp mornings and the rush to get campers settled. The late nights in camp, eating our dinners when the campers ate their suppers. Prepping for GA gifts and camp junk food with Cheryl. Building the whole stage deco wrongly twice and then building it up again only to realise that it’s upside down. Playing “bang” or uno in the multipurpose room. Soaking sessions with the committee, just one guitar, maybe one piano, and a whole bunch of young adults crying for more. BR with David, JRR and Aaron. Honey chicken rice at Taman Chi Liung, and peanut butter milkshakes at Pink Dugong after. The tired, bittersweet feeling after camps, putting the stuff back from the vans and lorries. Lying on the wheelchair ramp, too tired to move after camp at Ipoh. Ranting with Aaron Shawn. Khishan’s horrible watermelon gummies, and him making the church yeet. Josh Tan laughing so hard that he snorted maggi out his nose. Prepping for Sunday group sharing/ devo with Sam Swee at McDs. Chermaine and Cheryl teaching me how to harmonise. And so many other more that I can’t name, because that would take ages.

I left grace youth after I turned 21. I’ve lost my faith, and I’ve tried (am trying?) to rebuild it. I’ve lost some friends, and got people who now mean so much more. I’ve learnt that there’s a time to fight, and that there’s a time when fighting will never be enough. And I know I’ve left the youth earlier on, in January, and now Grace itself, but it feels apt to leave a grammar mistake ridden, ranty post about my time in youth because it’s where I’ve grown so immensely. I will miss it, but it’s time to be at places we will grow.

[alexanderlightweight]

a choiceless hope - pt 1

ao3 link

sequel to the sensibility of cider

tags: established secret relationship, political themes, light angst, romance 

Alec was exhausted but he held his head high and continued towards the Institute’s doors, intent on getting to his destination with as little outside distraction as possible.  

It had been a harrowing week filled with one demon alert after the other, injured teams and a public argument with Hodge that had then turned into a nightmare of a political situation.

Four months ago Alec would have let Hodge’s behavior go and turned a blind eye to a -what he’d considered at the time- problematic but ultimately harmless attitude.  Hell, even two months ago he might have done so.  Now, after more than a few months of dating Magnus, he trusted his boyfriend the most out of anyone in the world and listened to his advice when it was offered.  

Magnus provided a perspective and outside opinion as both an individual and also as someone in a position of authority that Alec had never tried to understand and wasn’t able to.  Magnus’ offered point of view and information had shaken Alec’s world, but he’d needed it.  

For the entirety of his life, Alec had been so caught up in following the rules that he’d completely lost sight of being his own person and becoming a leader his people and those whom he protected could depend on.  With both his parents and his siblings in Idris he normally would have kept his head down and stuck to the status quo, just relieved to have a break from them.  Instead, without even meaning to, Magnus had unintentionally changed his world in the best but most complicated of ways.

Which led to this.

At some point during their conversations, Alec had realized that having a former Circle member -especially one that was on permanent house arrest- teach anything other than sparring and drills was not only a security risk but also a terrible idea.  Even if, as no doubt his parents would prefer, he blatantly ignored the fact that Hodge was a completely biased teacher and someone who had been radical enough to join a genocidal movement, there were still other issues.

Enough so, he had managed to compile an entire file of reasons that had nothing to do with morals and ethics, just to make sure that no one among the Clave could contest his findings.  

Hodge was an Institutional nightmare on paper, let alone in person.  

The man had gone straight from training in Idris to joining the ranks of Valentine’s genocidal little group.  He’d never participated in life at an Institute until after his sentencing and the little he did know of the mundane world came from books, research and an assortment of unsanctioned Circle raids.  He’d never once participated in or been a part of an actual team, nor had he gone out on hunts whose main purpose was keeping both mundanes and the Shadowworld safe. Overall, he had absolutely no idea what he was doing and the fact that he’d done it for as long as he had, while completely unchecked, was utterly appalling.    

As if that weren’t enough -and it was- Alec had gone over backlogs and old reports while conducting his own assessment and realized that while Hodge was a good combat instructor, he was a terrible strategist and had very little understanding of teamwork or how much skill navigating a city like New York took.  It was with that in mind that Alec had finally put forward his case and today he’d both received the news and then had to be the bearer of it.

To say that he was looking forward to seeing Magnus was an understatement.

Magnus respected him as a person, as an adult and as a leader. It was probably one of the reasons why Alec was so willing to listen to him.  

If they disagreed on something it could get a little rough.  Magnus and he both had an immense capability for pettiness, however it was never purposefully painful.  The worst thing that had ever happened was Magnus slamming the balcony door in his face and Alec, after staring at it in shock and getting his head on straight, had found himself laughing at the entire situation with Magnus not even two nights later.  Alec felt a comforting sense of security, knowing that his boyfriend would never begrudge him affection, even if they were arguing.

Magnus had opinions and he didn’t hesitate to share them but at the same time, while his disappointment was painful enough, Alec knew that it was never intended as a weapon to hurt him.  

-

Magnus pursed his lips at an errant potion and narrowed his eyes threateningly.  It was not a complex potion, merely a time consuming one with a few ingredients that were younger than he’d realized, which caused the brewing time to be extended.  Considering that Alec was on his way over he was very tempted to just scrap the entire batch and redo it another time. With a groan he shook his head and reminded himself to stay committed to the task.  He had not survived for centuries only to lose his patience because the man he loved, who he had yet to confess to, was on his way over. Alec was more than capable of letting himself in and entertaining himself until Magnus was done.

That resolve might have lasted longer if at that very moment the door hadn’t opened and Alec hadn’t called out a hello.  The sound of his name being said like a cry of relief made Magnus heart trip over itself and he was about to snap his fingers and vanish the brew when his study door was gently pushed open.

“Hey.”  

“Alexander,” Magnus said and Alec came close, leaning over the desk of ingredients to press a kiss to his jaw.  “Let me just clean this up.”  

Alec caught his raised hand and kissed his fingers, a spark of magic extinguishing against his lips and the trust there that Alec always showed nearly made Magnus swoon.

“I can wait till you’re done.  I need to go clean off anyway.”  Alec pressed one last kiss to his knuckles and then left with a tired though happy smile and Magnus only just managed to switch his attention back to the potion.  

It was a with a renewed sense of urgency that he measured the remaining ingredients and expertly stirred the potion.  His mind was hyper vigilant, reminding himself that quicker to finish meant a faster reward and the prize he had waiting was one he very much intended on enjoying.  Finally it was done and he bottled it, a little dismayed when he glanced at the clock and realized just how much time had passed.  

At the moment with Alec only having the title of Interim Head but having all of the responsibilities of the official position of Head of the Institute, they both had to be careful.  Neither had been exactly sure what they were doing or where they were going with their relationship at the start, but things had changed and now Magnus was aware, as was Alec, that they were both in this for the long haul.  

It had helped that throughout their relationship, Alec’s family had been away.  He’d had time to process and find security not only in his own feelings but in his confidence as a leader and as an individual in a relationship with another person.

It also meant that Alec didn’t sleep over nearly as often as Magnus would have preferred, especially as their relationship was still very much on the down low.  While officially Alec had no one to answer to, and when at one point Hodge had tried to demand an answer, he’d shut the man down his lover still practiced caution.  Someday soon he hoped that Alexander living with him would become a reality he could cherish but it wasn’t time just yet.  

As it was, Magnus had planned to slip in and enjoy the end of Alec’s shower with him.  Instead he found his boyfriend submerged in the tub. A surprising but in no way unwelcome sight and he paused at the doorway to admire Alec’s peaceful face and smile at the fact that his lover was submerged in a bath full of very purple liquid.

“Is there room for one more?”  He asked and Alec blinked up at him in the dim bathroom light before raising one very salty brow.

“There better be, or you’re not as magical as you claim to be.”

Magnus laughed and snapped his fingers, vanishing his clothing to his closet and Alec moved just enough to let Magnus slip in behind him.  The water was still piping hot and Alec settled back against him immediately, turning just enough to press a kiss to his collarbone and then relaxing with a sigh.  

“This is better,” he said and he raised a hand and flapped his fingers expectantly until Magnus gave in and happily offered his own fingers to embrace.  

“It is a nice way to end a long day.”  A few moments passed and Magnus let himself soak up the heat and the weight of Alec against him, “are we talking about your day?  Or is that a conversation for tomorrow?”

Alec huffed but his grip remained relaxed and his thumb traced little patterns on back of Magnus’ hand.

“We can talk about it now.  I heard back from the Clave.”  

Magnus tensed a bit but managed to keep himself mostly calm, not quite trusting his words and instead asking Alec to continue with an inquisitive hum.  

Hodge had been a point of contention between them and one of the reasons for their first true argument.  Their kiss goodnight that night had tasted bitter and Magnus had clung to Alec in their parting embrace, hoping that he hadn’t pushed too fast and too hard, knowing that Alec was young and new to not only relationships but the reality of their world.  

However, Magnus was who he was and not even the love he had for Alec would not cause him to turn a blind eye when he could instead impart knowledge.  He’d lived far too long to let his personal attachments and worries stop him from educating someone in a position of power and Alec was in that position just from being angel-blooded.  

That Alec had listened to him had filled him with hope and later, after they’d reconciled and sat down to talk, Alec had promised to let Magnus speak first without arguing and when Magnus had finished, he’d asked for some time to think.  Magnus had given it, working on potions and keeping himself busy as Alec paced the balcony.

He’d been worried at the time that the indoctrination and radical beliefs of Alec’s childhood were too strong, that perhaps they ran too deep.  

Instead Alec had looked sheepish and apologetic when he’d finally come inside, cheeks windburn and nose pink from the cold.

He hadn’t needed time to understand what Magnus was saying, he’d needed time to breathe and pace because what Magnus said had made too much sense and it was shattering his worldview.  The life he’d built was made all on the foundation that the law was the law, not only because it was hard but because it was right. Alec had always lived by the law and only ever twisted it -never quite breaking it- his entire life.  Magnus knew for a fact that he knew the law, perhaps better than anyone, just so that if he ever needed to, he could use the law to his advantage.  

For Alec, finding out that the law he’d based his life so rigorously upon when he was young and adrift was a bit like making a home only to realize that the leveler he’d used was broken.  The pieces that he’d so meticulously cut from himself were uneven and nothing fit together.  

“The Clave has agreed that the position Hodge currently holds is one that creates a conflict of interest.  As such, they have rescinded his ability to access not only the Institutes database but also his authority as anything other than a combat trainer.  I received a new intelligence specialist today, Mirai Lakecastle. She’ll take over our mission protocols as well as intelligence gathering. An inquiry will also be started, as to why Hodge had the security clearance he did in the first place.  It was approved by the Clave years ago, so that part at least is no longer my problem.”

Magnus waited until Alec finished talking and then let out a shuddering sigh and wrapped an arm around his waist.  “I’m so proud of you.”

“You’re the only one who is.” Alec scoffed and Magnus ached, wondering just what was going through his lover’s head.  “Jace and Izzy come back from Idris in a couple of weeks, but my parents will be staying there longer due to politics.”  Alec continued and he sounded exhausted, “I miss them but I’m not sure how to deal with them.”

“Oh?  I thought you were excited to have them return.”  Magnus wondered at the sudden change of subject but supposed it was all intrinsically related, as most complicated things were.  

“I am, or I was but it’s different now.”

“Because of me?”

“No.”  Alec snorted and Magnus tried not to feel too offended, “you’re the easiest part of this whole insanity, Magnus.  My siblings they don't… they’ve never cared about the law. And right now, if I’m going to make it through this, I’ll become official head of the institute sooner rather than later.”  

“So?”

“While this situation with Hodge is under investigation my Institute is going to be even more under review than usual.  Jace and Izzy don’t abide by the rules and me being in charge isn’t going to change that. They’ve never respected it before and they won’t understand why they need to now.”

“Surely they won’t want to jeopardize your position.”

“They won’t see it as that, they’ll think it’s just me being a downer, not letting or wanting them to have any fun.”

“Just because you respect the rules doesn’t mean you’re not any fun.”  Magnus said, upset on Alec’s behalf. His boyfriend may be a little taciturn with strangers at times but Alec was always excited and ready for an adventure.

“Magnus, everything is different with you .  I’m different, because of you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Maybe one day I would have said yes but no, it’s not.  It’s the best thing in the world. Being different is perfect because it means I have you.”

Magnus was glad that Alec couldn’t see him, couldn’t see the way his glamour dropped and his eyes filled with happy tears and he tightened his hold on Alec.  

“I’m glad I have you too, Alexander.”

-

Lakecastle was not at all what Alec was expecting but she was exactly what he needed.  She’d arrived late in the night during prime hunting hours and Alec had been out on one of his firsts hunts in weeks.  The demons in question were quick and rather than send a team out to suffer hunting them for hours, he’d added himself to the rotation, knowing it would be easier and quicker with a long range specialist.

She was waiting for him when he got back in what could have felt like an ambush, if Alec had cared for such things.  Instead he’d been tired but satisfied. The thrill of a successful hunt still thrumming in his veins as he escorted one of his youngest shadowhunters, who was still two years older than him, to the infirmary.  An in field iratze had healed the wound but Alec preferred to have his hunters have a full workup to avoid complications like venom poisoning later on.

“Lightwood, it’s fine.”  Darkwater told him once again and Alec rolled his eyes, allowing a nod to the newcomer but not leaving his position as escort.

“Then it will be fine once you’ve had it checked out, officially.”

Alec heard the mutter and was distracted from his observation to turn sternly and stare at Darkwater.

“What was that?”  He left no room for excuses and his voice and eyes were hard as he stared the man down.

“Sorry.”  Darkwater said without actually sounding apologetic, more sheepish at being caught than anything else.  “It’s just, your team never does this.”

Alec opened his mouth to protest and then closed it, taking a breath as he thought through it and remembered the feeling of not having the whole picture.  

“That’s somewhat true.”  He allowed, “but not entirely accurate.  Hodge and Izzy often acted as field medics during briefing, which isn’t one of their official duties.  Now, due to a pending investigation and as Hodge is unqualified for that kind of service, he is no longer available.  Likewise, my sister is in Idris and while she is an accomplished scientist, she is not medic qualified which means she too will no longer be doing that.  That she ever was is an oversight that I’ve already begun to rectify.”

Darkwater frowned but nodded, stripping out of his clothes as the medic came over and Alec watched with a furrow in his brow as they worked.  He wondered just how often his example was followed to the detriment of others health and silently made a vow to lead by a more visible example.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said and then gave a short nod, “you did well tonight.”

-

“Alexander Lightwood?”

“It’s Lightwood, or Alec.”  Alec said and reached out to take the hand offered him, “Mirai Lakecastle?”

“Yes, the Clave informed you of my arrival?”

Alec nodded and motioned for her to follow him, “you made good time.”  

“The Clave didn’t feel they could afford to sit on this matter any longer than they already had.”  Lakecastle said and Alec nodded his understanding, “however they were impressed by your actions. You clearly run a tight ship here.”

“Not tight enough if security issues like the one Hodge presents are considered the normal.”

Lakecastle gave him a tightlipped but sympathetic smile, “but instead of letting it remain the status quo, you risked poking a nest of ravenors.”

Alec paused in their walk, he’d been automatically leading Lakecastle to his parents office but he realized now it was more unofficially his office, as he used it more than they ever did.  

“It came to my attention that having Hodge preside as he had, while not obviously damaging, was not in the best interests of my Institute.  Or for the safety of my shadowhunters. I also had concerns about the potential ramifications of having someone who was once an active part of the Circle so closely involved with downworld relations.”

“Is that something you’re interested in, protecting downworlder interests?”  There was no censor in Lakecastle’s voice but Alec did note the sudden gleam of interest in her eyes.  Even a routine answer could be enough for her to report unfavorably to the Clave but he found himself pausing and gathering his thoughts as they stepped into the office and he gestured to a seat before taking his own.  

“Downworlders are a part of the Shadowworld.  It’s our duty to not only protect mundanes and the integrity of remaining hidden, but also keep safe those within the Shadowworld.  So yes, I consider their protection to be important.”  

Lakecastle watched him without comment for a moment before nodding and it was only because Alec was watching her so carefully that he saw how her shoulders relaxed just slightly.

“There were some concerns due to your family history, I’m glad to see that they won’t be a problem.”  

“What does my family have to do with anything?”  Alec asked with a frown, it was true that Izzy and Jace were hardly discrete in their dalliances among downworlders.  But the only thing that might jeopardize his position was their recklessness and his past habit of following Hodge’s example and sweeping it under the rug.

Lakecastle seemed to still but when her eyes met Alec’s she gave nothing away and simply tilted her head, “Nothing.”  Was all she said, “After all, you and not your family are in charge.”

“For the moment.”  Alec reminded her, “My parents are still the officials Heads of the Institute.”

Lakecastle hummed noncommittally but Alec recognized the look in her eye and did his best to stay quiet.  Something was clearly afoot in Idris, which meant that perhaps his parents were being considered for a more political role and his temporary leadership would become permanent.  The possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him. Established leaders of a successful Institute held a lot more power than just someone who was the heir to a prestigious lineage.

If he had that, some sort of sway in the Clave, or at least records good enough that they couldn’t be dismissed then no one could truly use Magnus against him, or him against Magnus.  Instead of being a weakness for each other, they could easily become strong political allies and the idea of it was intoxicating. Instead of just listening to Magnus and learning of problems, he could use what power he had to start implementing a real change and leave behind a legacy of peace rather than bloodshed and domination.

-

Magnus woke to a muttered curse and the fumbling of a belt being undone in the dark, he kept his eyes closed and let a smile spread across his face.  He’d asked Alec to come by after his patrol and argued with his lover when he’d declined. Alec had been insistent that he’d be done with patrol too late to do anything other than disturb Magnus’ sleep but Magnus had been very firm on the fact that he didn’t care if he was woken up, he’d actually prefer it.  He knew that Alec was a strong shadowhunter and a good leader, but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying.  

To hear Alec’s quiet curses, his fumbling movement and then to feel his presence as he padded with silent footsteps to the bathroom and then when he was done, back to bed, made Magnus relax.  True Alec had woken him up, but before his sleep was restless and now he felt as though the few hours he would catch with Alec in his arms were well worth the disturbance.

Alec slid into bed, fingers brushing Magnus’ arm as he sought him out and Magnus kept his breathing deep and even, not wanting Alec to feel guilty… or for him to feel smug that he’d been right about waking Magnus up.  Alec gave a small huff of pleasure and wriggled closer, trying to be considerate and careful. It wasn’t until a moment later that his truly arctic toes pressed against Magnus’ calf that he broke the facade and cursed.

“Alexander, your feet are freezing!”

Alec let out a startled yelp and pushed away from Magnus.  Accidentally kicking him in a move that would no doubt leave bruises on Magnus’ shin while propelling himself out of bed.  Magnus tried to hold back a laugh but found himself chuckling as he summoned a small silver light to illuminate the room. Alec was blinking up at him from the floor, wearing only boxers and a confused expression and rubbing at a red mark on his chin.

“I guess I woke you up after all,” he said and he sounded so sad about it that Magnus couldn’t help but laugh harder still.

“I was awake the moment you stepped into my room, my oh-so-mighty shadowhunter.”  Magnus teased and he propped himself up in bed, holding out a hand and grinning at his boyfriend.  “Now come to bed properly so we can warm you before you lose something to frostbite. I refuse to lose my favorite shadowhunter because of a chill.”  

Alec gave a sheepish laugh and took his hand, letting himself be pulled up and into bed.  Magnus was happy to curl around him, gliding his fingers up and down Alec’s torso a few times, letting himself feel that there were no bandages or obvious wounds on Alec’s body before he settled his hand low on Alec’s belly.  

Alec pushed back against him, a happy hum in the deep of his throat and if they both hadn’t been so tired it might have led to something else but for now, it was a content intimacy and Magnus pressed his lips against Alec’s shoulder and let the summoned light fade.  

-

It was overly bright by the time Alec woke up and Magnus, who had gone to bed long before his boyfriend had ever come home, was now going over paperwork.  There was a grumble from the bedroom, a sleepy murmur protesting the sun and a noise that Magnus had become used to whenever Alec woke to find himself alone.  Summoning a new cup of tea, Magnus made his way to the room, a soft smile breaking out on his face as he entered and found Alec sprawled across the entirety of the bed, head pillowed in the indent Magnus had left.  

“Morning darling,” he said and was rewarded with a soft grunt and Alec burying his face further into the mattress.  Magnus let his robe fall from his shoulders and dance over to his dresser as he slid into the bed. His thigh brushed Alec’s forehead and his lover nuzzled the bare skin there and pressed a little kiss to it before throwing his arm over Magnus’ waist and sighing contentedly.  

“I have breakfast.”  Magnus told him, a little bribe to start the morning but Alec shook his head, grip tightening in silent complaint.

Magnus just smiled, time like this was precious and he didn’t mind spending it here with Alec and the dawn of a new day.  Once Alec’s family arrived he knew their time might become even more short and precious but ultimately stolen moments.  

While Alec did plan on telling his siblings about their relationship, he was going to wait until they’d calm down from their return.  According to his lover, the Lightwood siblings tended to return from Idris rather stir crazy, add to that the new changes, well it would be best not to bombard them with everything that was new.

“I’m still worried about Jace and Izzy.”  Alec confessed quietly and here, in the quiet of Magnus’ room it didn’t feel like a betrayal.  Magnus made a soft noise, an indication that he was listening and Alec reached out to thread their fingers together so he could admire Magnus’ elegant hands and play with the shiny rings there.  “I didn’t realize until recently just how much damage Hodge and I were doing. They’ve never faced consequences for their actions and they don’t follow any of the necessary protocols, even though they should.  I’ve begun to lead by a strict example but I’m worried that they’ll undermine it, maybe without even trying to.”

“You can’t control or predict their actions and they are adults, adults who should and do know better.”

“But I’m the oldest, it’s my job to protect them.”

“Alexander, you can’t live your entire life under their shadow or living for them.  You are your own person and they are theirs, they can’t be children under your wings forever.”  

Alec shuddered and turned his face further against Magnus’ hip, gripping his hand tightly.

“My entire life has been about them, to protect them.  To be better for them. What am I without that?”

“No matter what path you travel, just a few actions alone are not enough to define you.  Protecting your family is a huge part of who you are, but it’s not the only important thing about you.  You can love and take care of your siblings without sacrificing your sense of self and your happiness for them.”  Magnus told him gently and ran fingers delicately through his hair, “it’s not a crime to want more for yourself, or to build a life that doesn’t have them at the center.”

“I want you.”  

“And you have me.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Magnus snorted, “you don’t get to deserve me, Alexander.  You can’t put a price on a person or their affection.  No, I know,” he said before Alec could interrupt. “Your parents raised you a certain way and that’s not your fault.  You were taught that affection and love were earned as a reward and taken away as a punishment, but that isn’t a universal truth.  just an unjust practice.”  

“So they come back and I what, just let them fail and punish them for it?  When it’s my fault to begin with?”

“It’s not your fault.”  Magnus repeated, “From what you’ve told me, your sister and parabatai are intelligent beings, they’ve just been spoiled.  If anything, you’re protecting them by teaching them this lesson now. We both know that you won’t always be there for them, not even by your own actions.  It’s a fact of the life you live that the Clave could transfer them, or they could request a transfer or they could fall in love or go down an entirely different career path.  Pampered nephilim do not succeed anywhere outside of Idris, remember that when you’re dealing with them and you’ll both be fine.”

Alec made a muffled noise of agreement and Magnus wished they were discussing this in a little more formal of a setting so that he could see his lover’s face.  Instead, he had to contend with deciphering noises and watching the muscles of Alec’s back contract or relax.  

“What scares you the most about all of this?  It can’t just be disappointing them,” Magnus asked quietly.  

“I love my family.  I’ll always love them and I want them safe, but I don’t think they’re my priority anymore.”

“That’s okay.”  Magnus promised him, “it doesn’t mean you care for them any less.”

Alec was quiet, not wanting to put the burden of his truth on Magnus.  That while he didn’t care for his siblings any less, he did care for Magnus more and in a very different way.  It wasn’t a bad thing, he knew that intellectually but in other ways he felt like he’d failed his siblings.

“You’re allowed to put yourself first, Alexander.  Anyone who truly cares for you will understand that, I promise.”  

Alec bit his lip to hold back a reply and tried to stifle the worry that lingered in his heart.  There was a part of him, however small it was, that worried about just how true that statement was.  Someday soon he was going to get proof of whether or not his family understand the truth that Magnus imparted so easily, and just how much they actually cared about him.  

[dolcetters]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; mun & muse - meme.

TAGGED BY: @hyaciiintho​ ( ;-; AAA THANK!!! )

TAGGING (don’t feel obligated to do it!): @forsakenflora , @avadite , @yinseal , @inseparabilum , @reigningsniper , @tsume-awase​ , @canisfuria​ & YOU if you wanna!

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

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

MY MUSE IS:   CANON / OC / AU / CANON-DIVERGENT / FANDOMLESS

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES  / NO / IDK (he’s fetishized a lot; thanks, i hate it)

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK (i’d lean more toward no)

Are they underrated?  YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / MAYBE (stares into the abyss)

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO / MAYBE

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (true neutral, my boy)

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON? ♠ || i have an ongoing joke that “canon is a slab of meat that we slow-roast at 475 degrees and carve for the juicy bits” but at the same time it’s not a joke at all, i’m being perfectly serious. i’m definitely a lot less strict than when i started for writing canon characters way back yonder, but i also DO like to keep within an array of canon boundaries because i’m not writing for an OC in this instance, i’m writing for an established character. ...it also doesn’t help that my character’s handled differently in the 4 types of media he shows up in but. i grew up reading DC comics and writing for beast boy, so i’m kind of used to “multiple takes existing for singular character”. 

that being said, my take on dol is clearly canon divergent (since... he’s alive and my default verse takes place after the nest raid) but it pulls primarily from brotherhood/manga with a couple dashes of 2k3 series (since that’s the only media that gives us a length of time that he was in the labs). but given that i follow along with just about every scrap of information provided in the manga on this clown, i’d say i follow canon fairly strictly... but there ain’t a lot to go off of, so my reins are pretty loose no matter how you look at it. my city now.

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS.   ♠ || (*￣3￣)╭ well, hello, there. aware of dog? yes. this is he: dolcetto mcgrouchyboots, and he is not happy to be here at all. he is traumatized, sassy, wants to throw hands with teenagers, has no sense of self worth, and will absolutely use himself as a meat shield in order to protect any and everyone he cares about. he is spliced with: dog. his favorite weapon: sword. if you listen carefully, you might hear dog-song rising on the east wind as he approaches (don’t tell him axel taped a cassette player to his back). he comes from a found family of complete and utter morons with a lot of damage, they live in a partially underground bar, work as information brokers, and are all DEFINITELY fully functioning adult people. they say gay and trans rights. if you like angry boys with a sense of humor semi-on-par with griffin mcelroy, this is the boy for YOU!!! 

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?).   ♠ ||  he’s only featured in a handful of episodes/chapters across all media, doesn’t have a significant amount of dialogue, and we only ever see him lose to the protagonist(s) despite that he seems more than capable of fighting anyone else. easy to brush off as a “aw he died and that’s sad but we didn’t really know him, moving on”. from what i’ve seen in my years, people are more interested in him being a cog in the machine of “greed is sad” and less interested in... HIM. which is fair, i guess, but hhhhhh

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?   ♠ || i don’t know if i can pin-point any ONE thing, but i’ve always been drawn to characters with some sort of connection or bond with animals (example, once again, being beast boy from teen titans). i also have an IMMENSE weakness for the found-family dynamic. so when the devil’s nest appeared during my first watch through of brotherhood, i was pretty much... hooked. immediately. and devastated. immediately. as for what drew me to writing dol, specifically... probably his loyalty, his drive, the fact that he WOULDN’T FUCKING STAY DOWN no matter how many times someone knocked him flat on his face. i vibe with that. grew up very much in the mentality of “fall down 7 times, get up 8″. also, he had a sword... which always beats guns on coolness factor. and i loved his fire. ...and that he was a complete fucking idiot who’s really bad at kidnapping i mean HOLY SHIT THAT’S HOW YOU TRIED TO GET HIM TO COME WITH YOU, DOLCETTO, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING--

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING? ♠ ||  dol has always been a great source of ...venting for me? <xD ever since i started writing him, i’ve always found his muse--specifically--to be extremely cathartic and comforting. i dunno if it’s because he lets the more... jaded side of me come out, even when we’re both trying to be optimistic? 

because i’ve been in 2 emotionally abusive friendships. i definitely have some left over hurt, pent up anger that hasn’t been given closure, a hell of a lot of underlying bitterness that i never got the opportunity to confront those people, BUT i still try to be. y’know. welcoming, friendly, supportive, despite a voice in the back of my head being paranoid?? i think dol continues to give me outlets to expressing that. somehow. not that i use him as an excuse to do it, more so i have more opportunities to do it when i’m writing him as opposed to writing someone like beast boy, who’s usually more on board with keeping the peace than picking a fight. i’ve also invested SO MUCH TIME and ENERGY into his background and headcanons and things that i kind of can’t quit him now, nor do i want to.

... and aside from that i just want him to have a happy ending god, fucking damnit. 

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO ( or i certainly hope so )

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES  / NO

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO ( definitely have moments but eh! ) 

Are you a sensitive person?  YES  / NO ( kind of... varies. i’d say i’m more hyper aware)

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?   ♠ || i definitely like to think i do when it comes to pre-established things in canon. but when it comes to what i’ve built on my own over my years of writing for dol (and the nest members as a whole), it’s kind of my sandbox and i’d appreciate you not stomp around in it. 

unless i need to be learned a thing, like... one of the nest members, vi, is a trans-woman. i’m a cis-woman and i try to do as much research as i can and educate myself, but if i ever fuck something up please tell me, i’m doing my best but i’m more than willing to listen. i want to grow.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?   ♠ || pretty sure everyone does! >xD but yeah! i FUCKING love it. especially since i’m writing for a minor character. =//o//= it shows people are interested in him despite his overall lack of content.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?   ♠ || i’d definitely be curious as to why but i doubt i’d be offended or take ... any personal harm from it--y’know? it’d be more of a “let me hear your perspective and maybe it’ll expand my own understanding, or i might not agree after the explanation and that’s cool”! 

an exception would be for an obviously shitty one that’s shitty for no reason, like... acTUALlY, he’s TOtaLLY hom///o///pho//bic, to which i’d be like “bitch, no, get away from me; no one in this bar is straight, die mad”.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?   ♠ || again, it��s cool! there’s not a lot of canon material so you can take his portrayal a variety of places. if we don’t jive, it’s pretty whatever. 

my one exception to this is probably people who, in the past, have told me i write him being “too mean”. which will never cease to confuse me. because even after al straight told dolcetto he was 14, dol was still like “I REALLY WANNA SMACK HIM but i’d just hurt my hand so you’re off the hook”, he’s angry like 85% of his dialogue in the manga... i’m just confused. where are you seeing the “uwu pupper~” persona. you can write it, that’s fine, i don’t care, just don’t get irritable when i don’t write him like a cute puppy. because here he is. suggesting we just kill izumi because she’s being troublesome. yeet. ...he’s an asshole.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?   ♠ || whatever, just don’t be a dick or speak badly about me or him in my presence because, flawed as he is and while i won’t make excuses for him, i’ll stand up for him. go somewhere else, my dude. i, personally, don’t have the energy for your negativity. nor do i have the patience.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?   ♠ ||  i’m more okay with people correcting my spelling (gently). because of the way i taught myself to read, i’d be FUCKED if auto-correct or spell-check didn’t exist. i also google correct spellings constantly. so spelling, yeah, i already know that i’m terrible at it so feel free to correct type-os or spelling mishaps, it ain’t no thang. 

grammar i’m a bit... pickier about. because sometimes i’ll purposely do a “grammatical error” because the punctuation or otherwise further drives the pacing or mood i’m trying to give my writing. i may not know ALL the rules but i break them from time to time... FOR THE ART.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?   ♠ || i wanna say i am?? while i definitely do want to seriously explore and flesh out and grow dol as a muse and character, i’m “not above” goofing around, poking fun at him, or just being plain silly on the dash. RPing is escapism for me and i strive to keep my blog a peaceful safe haven on the dashboard, both for myself and my followers. 

i try to communicate to the best of my ability and despite my anxieties, and while i may not be able to follow or RP with EVERYONE (for obvious reasons) i’m open to interacting with ... pretty much anyone who throws me a bone. i’ll speak up if i’m not down for a plot or interested in a certain relationship or interaction, but i’m certainly not going to be rude or dismissive about it. i know what that feels like. i’d say yeah, though! i think i’m pretty chill. e-e you tell me.

[jchb32273]

DAI (DAO) OC Tag

Tagged by @freethemages​! Thanks!! <3

I think I will tag @andrastini​, @captain-savvy​, @anjelica-grey​, @barbex​, and anyone else who might be interested!

Name: Kylara Auria Amell

Race and Class: Human Mage

Specialization: Primal Mage, Shapeshifter, and Arcane Warrior

Age: 19 (when she was recruited into the Grey Wardens), 30 at the time of the Conclave. Born 22 Drakonis 9:11 Dragon

Height: 5’9” (approx 180cm)

Family*: Unknown until she was able to do a bit of research after the Blight. Then she found out her family had once been Kirkwall nobility. She eventually met her two older brothers and two younger sisters – all of them mages (all of them sent to different Circles), although she only became close to her cousin, Garrett Hawke.

Great Aunt: Bethann Walker-Amell, Great Uncle: Astride Amell, Grandmother*: Lottie Smythe-Amell, Grandfather: Fausten Amell, Uncle: Damion Amell, Uncle: Gamlen Amell, Aunt: Leandra Amell-Hawke, Mother: Revka Amell, Father*: Roland Hawthorne, Brothers*: Leland & Augustin Hawthorne, Sisters*: Gisela & Allectia Amell, Cousins: Garrett, Carver, & Bethany Hawke

(* As there are some gaps in the Amell Family Tree – found on the Dragon Age Fandom wiki – I made up and filled in a few of my own names. Also, not really sure why Kylara and her siblings would have the last name of Amell… as that is their mother’s last name. Perhaps it was a nobility thing. So I just made up that the boys took their father’s last name and the girls took their mother’s.)

Love Interest: Alistair Theirin

Personality/Traits: Mostly calm and logical, but she can get hotheaded if someone argues against her core beliefs. She is a very smart, strong and powerful mage. Kylara is also highly passionate. Once she and Alistair had had their first time together, they were nearly inseparable. Heterosexual (possibly bi-curious, as she kissed Leliana one evening when she and Alistair were briefly apart. While Leli claimed that Kylara “wasn’t really into it”, it may have opened up new ideas in her head.) She had only ever been with Alistair until she met the sexy pirate captain, Isabela, at the Pearl… which led to a very steamy threesome between the three of them. After it, she swore to Alistair that it was just a one-time thing… until they met Isabela again a few years later. Now and then she and Ali will comment on finding other women attractive, and what it might be like… but they have not acted upon these thoughts. Both are fully content being with each other.

Background*: Until she found her family, Kylara only remembered coming to the Circle at Kinloch when she was eight years old. First Enchanter Irving had put a memory block on her at the request of her father. The reason for this she found out later, was because when her brother, Augustin, was sent away to a Circle in Nevarra at the age of ten (Kylara was unaware of her eldest brother, Leland – who was already in the Ostwick Circle – because she had only been three when he had been taken by the Templars), Kylara became very angry at her father for sending him away. As she screamed and cried, her own magic suddenly flared, wild and nearly unmanageable. Due to her immense power and her lack of control, her father was terrified of his daughter becoming an abomination. He immediately called for the Templars. They used Holy Smite to drain Kylara’s mana and then gave her some herbs that put her into a deep sleep. As they were in Crestwood at the time, the Templars quickly took her to Kinloch Hold.

Her father was worried that if Kylara remembered her past family life it could cause her to lose control before she was properly trained. He sent a letter with the Templars to the first enchanter of the Circle if there was something he could do to make Kylara forget her past, which Irving did.

As it turned out this was a good thing for Kylara because it allowed her to focus on her studies. She excelled and quickly became a favorite pupil of many of the mage instructors, Irving included. She also made many friends while she was there.

Anders was twelve years her senior, but he loved many of the younger mage students and mentored them as a “big brother”. Despite their age difference, Anders was easily one of her closest friends. She was crushed when he ran from the Circle when she was thirteen. Kylara also had many girlfriends. Her best friend was Sarita – a city elf from the Highever Alienage. When she was seventeen, she also became friends with a young Templar by the name of Cullen.

Sadly, not all friendships turned out to be true. Jowan was a young boy of ten when she first met him. Being close in age, they became friends… but as they grew older they drifted apart. Just after her Harrowing, Kylara not only found out that Jowan was in a forbidden relationship with a Chantry initiate, but that he was also practicing blood magic and had plans to destroy his phylactery so he could escape the Circle with Lily. She reported this to Irving, who then had her lead Jowan and Lily into a clever trap. Once Jowan found out that his friend had betrayed him, he swore that one day he would get revenge…

(* Again, lots of things in here that I made up to cover up any gaps and/or inconsistencies. I also call it a creative license as a FanFic writer… lol!)

Leadership Style and Preferences: Kylara would not want to call herself a leader, despite Alistair deferring to her once she had become a Grey Warden. While they were traveling together during the Blight, she spent the next several months helping Alistair to build up his own confidence and belief in himself. When she has had to step into a leadership role, she does try and listen carefully and have all of the facts before making a tough decision. Has she made mistakes? Sure even the best-informed individuals can still make the incorrect choices.

Favorite Companions (up to 3): DAO – Leliana, Alistair, and Zevran // DAI (Kylara will not be my quizzy… but someone you have heard of will be! Leaving it there to hopefully prevent any spoilers!) Dorian, Iron Bull, Cole

Least Favorite Companions (up to 3): DAO – Oghren, Sten // DAI – Sera, Vivienne, Solas (It isn’t that Kylara and my future quizzy hate these people, but rather that they just tend to disagree with them more often than agree…)

Mages or Templars?: Mages

Who Was Left In The Fade?: Warden Stroud

Who Rules Orlais?: Empress Celene and Briala

Favorite Advisor: Cullen and Leliana

Hobbies: (Back to Kylara now…) Reading, Cooking, Chess, Spending time with Alistair, and practicing her magic.

Familiar: Kylara doesn’t have a familiar, but she does have her beloved Mabari, Winston.

Scars/Tattoos?: Fighting during the Blight has given Kylara numerous scars. Arrow scars – one in her left shoulder and two in her lower abdomen. Desire Demon claw marks on her chest. A dagger scar across her stomach. Werewolf claw marks on her upper back… and many other scars from fighting numerous darkspawn and the Archdemon at the final battle of Denerim. Despite these scars, Alistair tells her every day how beautiful she is and how lucky he is that they are together.

Favorite Flower: Roses (for obvious reasons!)

Favorite Stone Or Gem: (Minor Spoiler if you haven’t read Kylara’s Story yet…) One evening, Alistair had told Kylara that the Joining had taken away her ability to have children. Devastated and heartbroken, she fled from the camp. Alistair found her by the shore of Lake Calenhad and began to comfort her. What then started off as sweet and tender soon turned wild and passionate. Kylara felt her magic flare up inside of her and not knowing what else to do with it, she directed it into a nearby boulder. Once things had calmed between her and Alistair, she touched the rock… and it split open! Inside were strange crystals that mirrored both their eye colors when they fought darkspawn – bluish/silver for Kylara and golden for Alistair.

The next morning, Alistair chipped off a few of the crystals and secretly had them made into necklaces for Kylara and himself. The next time they made love, they found that the crystals were able to hold excess magic (for Kylara) and excess energy (for Alistair). As their journey progressed and their bond deepened even further, the crystal’s magic began to grow and change… allowing Ali and Kylara to communicate telepathically and feel each other’s emotional states.

After the Blight, Kylara was able to finally talk with First Enchanter Irving about their crystals. He said they were called Aventurine (sorry, yes… borrowed from D&D… 😅) and that they were incredibly rare and special. When two people are meant to be with each other, despite numerous obstacles and odds against them, these crystals can form when that bond is born from their love.

Kylara and Alistair still wear these crystal necklaces to this day.

Weaknesses: As mentioned before, Kylara can be a bit hotheaded and sometimes her temper has gotten the better of her… more so when she was younger. The years have mellowed her quite a lot, but she can still get up in someone’s face if they say something that truly angers her.

[silver-lily-louise]

A Whole New World - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Chapter Five - Let Your Heart Decide

Summary: Alec doesn’t want to hold Magnus back. Magnus doesn’t want to throw Alec’s normal life up in the air. Alec makes his final wish. 

A/N: The final chapter!!! We made it, guys. Thank you so much to everyone who’s been leaving lovely comments/tags along the way, it’s been a joy! I hope you enjoy the wrap-up. <3 (As usual, the titles are from Aladdin.) 

Read it from the beginning on AO3 Chapter Five on AO3, or alternatively, keep reading!

~oOo~

Alec folds his arms over his chest, holding still; tossing and turning wasn’t helping him drift off any faster, so maybe this will work instead. But the gentle pressure just reminds him of earlier – of Magnus’ hands, arms, chest holding him upright but by no means steady. Of being so close, and wanting nothing more than to close the rest of the distance and kiss him. He shuts his eyes, but there’s barely any difference. There’s no pesky ray of moonlight peeping in, no noise besides the familiar hum of the city he can no longer sleep without. It’s his own thoughts, his own foolish wants, keeping him awake.

Tomorrow, he’s going to make his final wish. He’s going to let Magnus move on, and try to return to his own normal life. And hey, he’s got his work, he’s got his family nearby – there are plenty of things to distract and ground him, to help him pretend that these last few weeks have just been a strange dream; exhilarating, but fleeting, and not to be mourned for that.

He groans, giving up and turning onto his side again, feeling his face smoosh up against the thin pillow. The problem is, this time with Magnus hasn’t felt like a dream. It’s felt more real than anything Alec’s ever known. It’s never been perilous enough to be exhilarating, and he doesn’t want it to be fleeting – instead, it’s been comfortable, quietly and steadily joyous, and he thinks he might want it forever. 

That word snaps him out of his reverie, and he opens his eyes to the darkness in a kind of shock, before frowning at himself. Forever. For God’s sake, he’s known Magnus less than a month – it’s ridiculous to feel so attached already. Not to mention that Magnus is a genie, a fucking magical entity who’s lived for centuries, and so to him, forever means something entirely different. Alec’s never thought of himself as self-deprecating – though he knows Izzy disagrees with him on that – but he’s aware of his limits, and nothing makes him feel quite as limited as comparing himself to the kind of life that Magnus is used to. The kind that such a generous, brilliant man deserves.

So tomorrow, he’s going to make his third wish, and then say goodbye. Now, all he has to do is think of something else he wants, besides what he knows it would be too selfish of him to ask for.

It’s a while before he manages to fall asleep, and if he could muster the will to care about anything his head has to say, drowned out as it is by the petulant demands of his heart, he’d bemoan how tired he’s going to be at work tomorrow. He dreams of a magic carpet ride, of warm smiles and golden eyes and arms wrapped snugly around his waist, holding him safe. When he wakes up to a gently scathing alarm a few hours later, he’ll almost manage to convince himself that it doesn’t mean anything, simply because it can’t.

***

Magnus throws his head back against the chaise longue, staring up unseeingly at the highest shelves, barely noticing when the book tumbles from his fingers. He’s finished Les Mis, finally, but he’s barely seventy pages into Doctor Zhivago and he doesn’t know what he was thinking choosing it as his next literary conquest. Trying to keep track of such an infamously confusing story would be difficult at the best of times – let alone when he’s moping around like a lovesick teenager, lounging in his lamp’s library because it was too frustrating to lie in his opulent four-poster bed and gain no comfort, no rest from the perfectly temperate silk embrace.

He sighs, and if he wasn’t feeling so low he’d laugh at the dramatics of it all. He wants to go back and use only his magic to catch Alexander, to spare himself from the feeling of what he wanted being right there and yet so far out of reach. Better yet, he wants to go back thirty years, to when he misplaced the lid of his lamp for the seventeenth time that month, decided enough was enough, and sealed it in place; because if he could just change that decision, he wouldn’t have gotten stuck, wouldn’t have ended up offering a handsome, kind mortal three wishes and accidentally throwing in a piece of his heart as part of the deal.

He shuts his eyes, a little overwhelmed by the current toll on his willpower – because as much as he tells himself that he wishes he could change the past and avoid this situation, he knows it isn’t true. What he actually wants is to leave the lamp right this second, march over to Alexander’s bedroom, and declare that he’s never met anyone like him. That he’s never felt such connection to someone else, something that feels so immense even in its beginning – because he wants this to be a beginning, he wants to confess his feelings and trade silk sheets for soft-worn cotton, four posts for a pair of strong arms and gentle archer’s hands. He wants to conjure roses and day lilies and give them to Alexander as tokens of his affection, because Magnus has always been a hopeless romantic at his core and because Alexander is so beautiful when he’s flustered.

But although he’s a fool, Magnus is not an idiot, and calm resignation is stronger than his unattainable hopes. If his eight centuries have taught him anything, it’s that no matter how much of the world his powers can grant him, there will always be some things that he just can’t have.

***

Alec has decided on his final wish, and rationally, he knows it’s a good one. If Magnus can help sway his landlord’s opinion into something a little more pet-friendly, Alec can finally get the puppy he’s been dreaming of adopting ever since he was a kid. It’s something for him, like Magnus suggested, and it’s something he’d never be able to get without Magnus’ help, so it’s not like he’s wasting this once- (or, more accurately, thrice-) in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s a good wish. It’s also the complete opposite of what he wants, because making it means that Magnus will leave again.

He opens the door, false smile plastered on as he turns to the living room, where he usually finds Magnus at this time of the day. It’s empty.

The smile falls, and Alec curses the lump in his throat because this is ridiculous. He’s lived alone for a good few years now, and Magnus has only been here a matter of weeks. Coming home to an empty apartment is the norm, for God’s sake, and it’s one he’d better get used to again because he’s here to make his wish, and Magnus is going to leave.

Unless you ask him to stay, whispers a traitorous voice in his head, and he shuts his eyes because he can’t, he can’t make a request so selfish – Except… he can. Wasn’t this exactly what Magnus suggested for his final wish? To make it something Alec truly wanted for himself, as much as he wanted happiness for Izzy and his mom in the previous two wishes? Alec’s heart starts thundering in his chest, because suddenly, he knows – not only can he do this, he has to. He knows he can’t bear to let this – this something, whatever it is, just pass him by. If he doesn’t at least ask, he’ll never forgive himself.

He goes to his bedroom, making a plan in his head as he tries to find something nice to wear, something that says I made an effort for you because you mean something to me. Go big or go home, right? Granted, that’s usually Jace’s motto, not Alec’s – but considering that Jace is happily married and Alec’s currently pining after someone he may never see again, maybe he could use a little of that spirit tonight.

He ventures back out into the living room, running over what he’s going to say in his head. He can’t just ask outright, can’t just make this his third wish and be done with it – he has to know that Magnus wants to stay as much as Alec wants him to. So instead, he’s going to give him a choice, and pray that Magnus feels the same way. He clears his throat, faces the lamp, and speaks before he has a chance to chicken out. ‘Magnus, do you have a minute? I’m ready to make my last wish.’

***

Alexander's voice echoes in the high ceilings of his otherwise cozy study, and Magnus looks up from the list he was compiling. He needs options for where to go next, once he leaves New York; so far, he’s settled on Rome, Tokyo, and Lapland. All bright distraction, tourist traps and beautiful culture and ways to lose time. All thoroughly unappealing, now that they're suddenly imminent. He stands with a sigh, mustering a smile as he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift out of the lamp's spout.

When he rematerializes, he blinks in surprise. Alexander usually favours sweaters, polo shirts and jeans, both for relaxing at home and for working in his fairly casual office. This sharp, smart combination of a crisp button-down shirt and a blazer is new, and he looks - Magnus cuts himself off before he can follow that train of thought into dangerous territory. 'Some sort of special occasion today?' he asks, gesturing at the outfit. 'Did the Mayor stop by the office, perhaps?' Alexander's cheeks turn just the tiniest bit pink, and Magnus is really going to miss talking to someone who's so easily affected by simple conversation. 'Not quite,' he says. 'I just... had a meeting I wanted to make an effort for.'

'Ah, of course.' Magnus' good humour dissipates a little, though he tries to hide it, because there's nothing left to do but ask. 'So - your final wish. You've decided?' Alexander nods. He looks a little nervous, and Magnus braces himself for what may be a more difficult request than the previous two wishes.

What he isn't expecting is for Alexander to set his shoulders in determination, and say, 'For my third wish, you have a choice.'

Magnus stares at him for a moment. ‘I have a choice?' A small chuckle escapes him, and he hopes it doesn't sound too bittersweet. 'You continue to surprise me, Alexander. All right, then.' He puts on a mock-serious expression, letting pomp and circumstance infuse his tone. 'Tell me – what devious conundrum lies ahead of me, good sir?' Alexander gives a brief (and, if Magnus is honest with himself, not wholly deserved) smile at the moment of levity. 'Okay. For my last wish, I’d like one of the following, and it's completely up to you which one you grant. Option one is a jasmine plant that will never wither.' He hesitates a moment, before continuing resolutely. 'Or, option two… let me buy you dinner. Tonight.'

It's a few seconds before Magnus realises that his mouth is hanging open, and a good few more before he remembers how to use it. 'You mean...' Oh. He's an even bigger fool than he thought. Because suddenly, it all makes sense – the blushing, and the nice jacket, and the tension yesterday when they were standing so damn close -

Alexander's nervousness is starting to give way to a gentle panic, and Magnus realises that he hasn't actually given an answer yet. He raises a hand to forestall any babbling, because Alexander looks like he's on the verge of one of his (usually unnecessary, but also unfairly adorable) I'm sorry, it's stupid, forget it tirades. One particular thought from last night sparks in Magnus’ mind again, and he smiles slyly as his eyes catch on Alexander's top buttonhole. He gently twirls his wrist, and a short, delicate stem sprouts into existence, budding at the top and unfurling slightly into a small red rose. He steps forward, tucking it into the buttonhole, and his smile widens as he meets Alexander's gaze. 'Option two. Definitely option two.'

Alexander's eyes flick down to the rose briefly – or perhaps to where Magnus' hand is lightly but unabashedly lingering on his lapel – and he barks out a short, surprised laugh. 'Seriously?' he says, in response to Magnus' questioning look. 'I ask you for a date or a plant, and you say yes to the date by conjuring a plant?' He laughs again, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. 'I thought you were going to say no!' Magnus winces a little in amused embarrassment, but you don't live as long as he has without learning how to recover quickly from social slips. 'I'm sorry,' he says smoothly, one finger trailing over the silky rose petals. 'I'm not normally so distracted. It usually only happens right after I've been asked out by someone singularly attractive.' His eyes dart back up to meet Alexander's, and when he sees the flustered mirth reflected there, every reason he previously thought of to leave New York seems to evaporate into nothingness.

Alexander proffers his arm. 'Well,' he says, his voice low and soft. 'Shall we get going, then?' Magnus loops his own arm through Alexander’s, and flashes his most dazzling grin in sheer joy. 'Your wish is my command.'

***

Six months later, Alec finds himself at the Oddities display once more, while Pat’s bustling around with the clothing. ‘Hey, Underhill,’ he calls, ‘do we want the imitation Fabergés out yet, or do we wait another week?’ ‘I’d say go for it. The chocolate bunnies have been out in the grocery stores for nearly a month already.’

It’s fairly slow, especially for a Saturday afternoon just before closing time, and the three of them are taking the opportunity to reshuffle the stock. Alec’s been volunteering at the thrift shop since New Year’s – it’s a total change of pace from his nine-to-five, and it’s fast becoming a highlight of each week.

At the brief, informal interview – conducted by the cashier who sold him the lamp, who introduced himself as Andrew, but everyone just calls me Underhill – he’d been asked why he wanted to volunteer, and he’d smiled. ‘You remember that old lamp I bought? Well, it wasn’t exactly like Aladdin, but it definitely brought me some good fortune. I wanted to pay it back a little, like you said.’

And speaking of that good fortune – the bell on the door chimes merrily as Magnus waltzes into the shop, his disguised eyes meeting Alec’s with a surreptitious flash of gold. Alec smiles, walking over to plant a brief kiss on Magnus’ cheek. ‘Hey.’ ‘Hey. I know I’m a little early, but I thought I’d see how you were doing.’ He glances around the shop, raising an eyebrow. ‘Though if I’d known you were so swamped, I might have decided against it.’ Alec rolls his eyes fondly. ‘We’re nearly done for the day, then I’m all yours.’ Magnus smirks, and opens his mouth – likely to comment on the I’m all yours part of that sentence – but Underhill interrupts. ‘You guys can get out of here, if you want. Pat and I can finish up on our own.’ ‘Are you sure?’ Underhill gestures to the empty aisles. ‘He has a point. It’s totally dead, and I doubt we’ll be overrun in the last ten minutes of business.’ He nods towards the door, smiling. ‘Go enjoy your anniversary. See you next week.’

Alec barely has time to thank him before he’s being practically pulled out of the door, laughing. ‘Someone’s eager,’ he says, and Magnus turns to shoot him a grin. His silver tortoise pin – a Christmas present from Alec – glints against his burgundy cravat, the bright blue gemstones catching the late golden sunlight. ‘Where are we going?’ Alec asks, pulling his hand from Magnus’ to wrap his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders instead.

Magnus meets his gaze, a hint of mischief in his expression. ‘Well, in honour of our first date, I thought I’d give you a choice.’ Alec chuckles. ‘Oh? And what would that choice be?’ ‘Well, option one is Tokyo. I thought we could revisit that sushi place…’

Alec listens contentedly as Magnus rambles on, extolling the many virtues (and some of the vices) that Tokyo and Rome each have to offer. There’s an early spring chill in the air, but Magnus is warm against his side as they walk in comfortable rhythm, and the low flurry of his excitement feels like sunlight on Alec’s skin.

He listens, but a part of his mind drifts back to six months ago – and he thanks his lucky stars that he took this chance, that he didn’t just let this go. Because now he gets to be in love with this amazing, kind, golden-eyed magician, and by some miracle, Magnus loves him back.

It’s even better than he could have wished for.

~oOo~

[amwritingmeta]

Hey! What’s your take on where Destiel’s headed with the end of the season? I’ve been unfollowing some people who have been very negative about the show. They’re allowed their feelings and opinions, of course, but I’m kind of at a weak point in my life right now and just can’t handle the negativity. I’m personally ready for the angst, and let’s face it, one of the reasons I love Destiel is because of their unhealthy dynamics.

Hi, love! 

Ohhh, good question. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, actually, (shocker I know) so getting to write it out is a good thing. I thank you! :)

I’m sorry that you’ve felt affected by the negativity you’ve seen, but I’m glad you made the decision to put some distance between that negativity and yourself. Self-care and being honest with yourself about what you want to and perhaps especially what you can and can’t handle is so important! And being able to recognise it and make that choice for yourself is an immense strength, so whatever point in your life you’re at and whatever brought you there, I hope you lean on that.

To your question! And, oh, the Destiel question complex, dude!

I’ll start out by saying that Destiel exists within the weave of this narrative as an important possibility for deepening the message of this narrative. 

I’ll add that I believe Dean and Cas were set up as romantic from the first episode of S4 (come hell or Eric Kripke bitchslapping me for reading too deeply into things) and that Cas was meant to be a catalyst for Dean beginning to see a reason to face his biggest fear, step out of the role of weapon and into his true identity, yeah? 

Okay, I’ll elaborate on that.

But first I want to say that, for all the Destiel meta I’ve posted on this blog, for all the Destiel focused analysis and the flailing and squealing and the tagging of the greatest love story ever told (through subtext) I feel I have tried to be clear about the fact that this narrative, as a whole, is not centred on our love story.

Bear with me, there’s a point to this statement and I assure you I believe Destiel will happen, because I believe the writers wouldn’t spend all that thought-power on baking in such delicious subtext if what they were striving for wasn’t to have that subtext brought into text and doing what it was always meant to do, which is deepen the message of the narrative as a whole. #daretodefy

(let me also be clear that me believing is not the same as me promising it will happen okay?) (I just have complete faith that it will) (let me outline why) (and if you don’t want an earnest and personal dissection of my way of analysing the narrative that is also rather unromantic, but lands in all the positivity, then please look away now!) :)

When reading the love story arc, I can’t dismiss or overlook the importance of the individual arcs for Dean and Cas, because Supernatural’s overarching themes are freedom, choice and identity, which are all interlinked, of course, and the characters are each of them playing a part in exploring these themes and are pushing for these themes to come together into a message related to freedom, choice and identity.

That’s how narrative structure works, yeah? 

I love these three men like they were my own. They live in my mind and have a piece of my heart and that’s not just me paying lip service. They’ve changed me, you know? Changed how I understand myself. So it’s not breezily I distance myself from them as people and look at them as basic narrative tools meant to help the writers make a statement about the world we live in and about how to live in it.

But that is what they are. That’s what they have to be in terms of narrative analysis. It’s all about asking the questions What does this mean for his progression? but also fitting that into What does this mean for the whole? How does this fit with what’s come before? And as far as speculation is concerned, landing in: What does that mean for what might follow? Yeah? Still with me? :P

So then, here’s the biggest thing that’s very easy to forget to underline when talking about Destiel: however real the love story is, this narrative does not exist for or revolve around the love story. 

I think this is so, so important to remember. 

The message of this series will be deepened if the love story is brought to surface text and the ginormaneous fuck you to the traditional (straiiiiiight) way of perceiving love and how love should be and how it should act and what it should look like is delivered by the end of S15. 

And the effectiveness of the delivery is determined by the fact that it’s a traditional white male hero set to act as symbol for leaving that closed-minded and societally conditioned bullshit behind.

But the love story, to me, is the bright red bow around the overarching thematic message of facing your internal fears and finding your way to who you truly are. Because that’s what freedom is. And it’s freedom begotten through trial and error. Through learning from your mistakes and all those choices you’ve made. Yeah? That’s the core of the show. That’s what we’re watching here. 

*and it is beautiful*

It’s also the thematic premise that unites the individual arcs of Dean, Sam and Cas, and now Jack as well. (but Jack is a mirror for all of them so his arc was bound to be a reflection, right?)

So when I think about what’s right for Destiel, first I look at where Dean and Cas are at in terms of this hugely important, overarching theme of identity, which is what is guiding their individual arcs towards a moment of catharsis. 

I just cannot believe that a show that has spent close to a decade and a half exploring the idea of individuation would bring its lovers together and have them make each other whole. 

I believe they need to first be whole in themselves, with all the self-worth that would bring on. 

Which is why all the enormous internal progression that’s been given to us over the last few seasons, particularly in Dean, but in Cas and Sam too, has been so exciting to me! Because it’s a push for them all to reach a moment of individuation. And for Dean and Cas, that means believing themselves worthy of love and happiness!

Which is why the love story is the bright red bow, yeah? Because through making it surface text and letting them finally get together they’re given this huge reward for doing all that internal work, right? 

And both of them reaching a point of individuation and laying the foundation for internal balance (because staying balanced is a continuing internal process of self-awareness and self-care) would be what allows the narrative to effectively send its message out to the world: let no one tell you who you are, you choose who to be, and good things await you if you dare to open yourself up to your true identity.

Well, then where are Dean and Cas at in their individual arcs as of 14x17? 

(um got long…) :)

Dean

Dean battled with toxic masculinity representatives pushing awareness on him all through S13, so when Michael came around, Dean could now recognise him for what he was - his shadow. 

Only, the awareness brought on an unconscious identity crisis that left Dean incapable of facing down his biggest fears and instead of engaging with the needed shadow work, Dean, in fear, decided to simply give up and give in and drown himself, because he couldn’t imagine what his identity could possibly be without this side to him pretty much in charge of him, yeah?

Taking control means admitting you’re out of control, and for someone so in need of control, admitting that you really don’t have any control over yourself is terrifying. So I get it. 

It’s just that Dean’s inability to engage in shadow work and opening up to being honest with himself about the imbalance within him led to his shadow infecting the regressed side to Dean that was always in most need of acknowledgement: his neglected inner child. (represented by Jack)

Here’s what Dean needs: to let Sam go. 

No, I don’t mean as in say goodbye forever and move cross country.

I mean, he has to let Sam be the adult he’s been for a very long time. He has to trust that Sam can take care of himself. Because even though I think Dean consciously recognises Sam as a grown man, unconsciously he is very, very stuck in the emotional patterns tied directly to Protect Sammy.

Dean sees Sam as his kid, and this was even underlined in 14x17 through how it opens on a board game Dean used to love as a kid before Mary died, and ends with Dean playing a game with his brother to keep him conscious.

Sam saying: You always put me first. Your whole life.

Honestly it continues to blow me away, because that exactly is the issue here. Dean never puts himself first. Ever. 

His purpose is still to Protect Sammy at all costs. 

And his neglected inner child is suffering for it, because Dean never had a childhood, and until he can admit to himself that Protect Sammy has damaged him in ways that he has to come to terms with, without feeling like he’s in any way betraying Sam, but rather opening up to acknowledging that neglected inner child, who is so starved for love and affection, Dean will never be able to confront his fears, expel them and in so doing integrate his shadow.

How exactly this is supposed to happen I wouldn’t dream of speculating on, but, to me, it does feel like this is what the narrative is circling for him. Because he’s aware of so many things. He’s aware of what the codependency has done to Sam and how it’s shaped his view on life and their joint purpose. 

If we die, we do that together. Yeah? 

And Dean doesn’t want that for Sam. And he’s tried to let go this season. And he’s tried to make Sam let go. But they keep coming back to well-worn paths, don’t they? And they still can’t find that balance in their relationship. Like how Dean just decided to leave Jack by himself in 14x16 and Sam’s annoyance at the deception, while Sam didn’t just step on Dean’s decision and override it in the moment, however much Sam was questioning it and disagreeing with it.

Oh, Sam. So much crap bottled up. Gah!

And then we can ask ourselves where Cas is at, and it’s an interesting at.

Cas

If you’ve taken a gander at my 14x08 meta on Cas and his shadow and the glory that is Carl Jung’s doctrine, then you know what I’m about to write, which is that Cas, at the start of S14, had come much further than Dean in his shadow work. In fact, the way I read S13 after Meredith Glynn planted the idea of a Jungian perspective on the narrative in my head is all to do with Cas doing a lot of shadow work and effectively reaching a point, at the start of S14, where he’s beginning to become truly self-aware.

The way he communicates with Jack about family and about belonging at the start of S14 is very different to the lost and rather adrift way he speaks about belonging with Mary in S12. Then Cas didn’t know if he truly fit in at the bunker, but now, and after the brothers markedly fought for him in 12x12, of course, he’s at a point where he’s actively referring to it as his home.

He also confronted the worst side to himself, his worst nightmare, a shadow representative in AU!Cas in S13, and not only killed this nightmare version, but acknowledge that he carries that nightmare version inside of himself.

So because Cas engaged in shadow work the moment he was confronted with his shadow representative (the Empty) in 13x04 and stood up to it and demanded his freedom, leading to all sorts of character progression throughout S13 and leaving him quite balanced at the start of S14, in 14x08, his shadow came to put a goddamn end to Cas’ growing self-worth and awareness, and the shadow came for the representative of that awareness for Cas: Jack. 

And Cas, instead of giving into his shadow and handing over awareness, made a deal, trading his happiness for remaining in control of himself. Rather than drown in his fears, he confronted them and said no, I’m not giving into you. 

But. 

One fear had to remain in spite of this confrontation and saying no. 

And it’s the biggest fear of all, for him as well as for Dean. And it’s the fear that stands in the way of either of them being able to fully open up to what they want for themselves.

What is it?

Indeed, it’s the fear of happiness. 

Now, it would be grand to say that happiness in all things for Dean and Cas are explicitly tied to them getting it on already. But I would gently argue that it actually isn’t. And if I’m right, because I might not be and if I’m wrong then, omg, bring on the smooches NOW, I really don’t mind, but if I’m right, then I believe it strengthens the love story, rather than weakens it in any way.

Because?

Because then the fear of happiness is tied into the series overarching theme of identity, which makes sense to me that it would be. And it ties right back around to the theory that for Dean and Cas to be happy together, they first have to be happy in themselves. To be together, they first have to answer the questions Who am I? and Who do I want to be?

Essentially: What do I want?

So, real happiness is tied to them recognising and embracing their true identities. 

For Dean this is all to do with letting go of Sam as identity marker, letting go of Protect Sammy as life purpose, and putting himself first. (for once) There’s a helluva lot of baggage for him to rummage through to get there, because his entire self-worth has, for practically his whole life, been tied to taking care of and looking out for Sam. Yeah? So I’m curious, if I’m even in the ballpark with this reading and this is what really needs to happen before anything else can really happen, how the writers will approach truly breaking the codependency once and for all.

I’ve always had this sense that it’s on Sam to properly instigate it by stepping out from Dean’s shadow, and Sam is being a research God and getting shit done and solving problems like it’s nobody’s business so maybe… We shall see!

For Cas… Well, anyone following this blog will know what I’ve got to say about Cas and his true identity, yeah? 

For him to choose to cut out his grace and become human. 

Cas has gone through many stages in his progression, but I do believe he’s repressing his true want because it’s such an absolute affront to Heaven, to God, to the strict rule book of angel/human interaction that Cas has been brought up on. (so his conversation with Anael in 14x17 was just manna from Heaven to me) 

Choosing a human life, to him, isn’t anything he’s even considering and I think that’s actually telling, because he’s avoiding even the hint of happiness like the plague, and I believe humanity has always been where the root of happiness truly lies for him. Because it’s his true form, you know? Not this in between thing he is rn.

*still makes me want to cry that he called himself a thing*

I mean, the whole Making a Big Choice thing could be circumvented by the fact that Cas cutting out his grace is the same as him not having to fear happiness anymore, because as a human he doesn’t belong in the Empty. So he could essentially realise that he can free himself from the deal, and then, actually, understand (when the Empty shows to nab him in his happiest moment) that humanity is what he wanted for himself all along. Like holy fuck THIS is what happiness truly feels like. *personal freedooooooom* *individuatioooooon*

But I wonder at what would bring about such a choice - whatever the scenario -  with drama on the horizon, so I’m doubting this choice will happen this season. 

(if at all) (let me be clear) (human!Cas is just what I - and others with me! - see as the narrative push for his progression) (it’s not a 100% has to happen or bust) (I mean it kinda is to my mind and I’ll be hella curious to learn what the big turning point is for him if it’s not realising he doesn’t even really think of himself as an angel anymore) (I feel he’s been transitioning since S4 tbh) (from angel to man…)

Anyway, that was one helluva roundabout way of landing in an actual answer to your question. Phew! Sorry this got so very long!!

The answer to your question is that I’m not expecting any sort of textual Destiel before the end of this season.

I am, however, very excited to see exactly what the subtext is about to deliver with the next episode. And, well, I suppose what the text will deliver, too, because Dean is textually telling Cas that he’s screwed up badly enough that Dean is ready to threaten to shut him out of his life. I mean. Drama. Right?

And, look, the thing to take away is that everything is connected. 

The individual arcs are influenced by the joint arcs (Sam and Dean and Dean and Cas) and the joint arcs progress thanks to the growth happening in the individual arcs. 

The love story arc doesn’t exist in a vacuum all on its own, but I do believe its conclusion is the needed punctuation mark for both Dean and Cas’ individual journeys, because their individual progression would never have been what it is right now in the narrative without the other there to act as catalyst and northern star.

And you can see it. Because when you take one of them out of the story, the progression of the other stops dead in its tracks. And it’s something I’ve always loved the subtlety of. And it’s really what has me convinced beyond any doubt that there will be a satisfactory conclusion, too. It would leave such a hole if there wasn’t and I think the writers would feel it like a wound in the brain. 

(#daretodefy)

And hey, I think that the unhealthy dynamics between them - with the absolutely atrocious lack of communication in moments that truly matter at its core - are all about the unhealthy imbalance within. So fingers crossed they’re getting on that introspection train. They won’t lose the sass and the throwing bitch faces at each other, you know? The fact that they question the other’s choices is actually part of the healthy in their dynamic. But, yeah, man… if they could just know when to speak up and when to share and when to… 

Yeah.

:)

xx

[scintillating-galaxias]

i’ll be the wind beneath your wings (ch. 2)

chapter two of my swap gift for @peppervl​! if you don’t want me tagging you every day when a new chapter gets posted here, let me know :D all chapters will be available to read beneath the tag ‘ibtwbyw’ and it is also available on ao3.

(read it on ao3!)

-

Rain lashed against the panes of the windows, demanding entrance through the cracks in the glass. It was not used to being wholly barred access from any building in London. There were always tiny holes in roofs, ever a misfitted window to trickle through. But not this building. 

Aziraphale huffed as he pushed a massive cherry bookshelf across the floor. It did not occur to him that this would scuff the flooring, so it didn’t. He would have liked to use a miracle or two to arrange everything correctly, but given he had to be rescued from the Bastille because he wasn’t able to perform more ‘frivolous miracles’ (just the thought made him roll his eyes), he probably shouldn’t. 

He dusted his hands off and stepped back to examine his work. His heel collided with a chest, and he only just managed to catch himself on a large wooden crate. When he nudged it out of the way, it caught on a loosened rotting bit of flooring. Perhaps he should have made the proprietor stay just a little while longer so they could at least get some base remodeling done. 

Moving into his new shop was thrilling, but he was sure his mouth was going to fall right off after all of the smiling and talking and agreeing he’d had to do to move things along. And he still had to deal with the vast amount of books, scrolls, tablets, art pieces, and other assorted trinkets he’d acquired over the centuries. Presently, they were all carefully wrapped and stored away. Inventory was going to be a nightmare, especially after learning the ship coming from France to England carrying the last of his items had gotten caught in this storm. It would be fine, hopefully ( probably Aziraphale insisted), but for now, all he could do was wait.

As he surveyed the scene, he could not help but feel that the shop was paradoxically cluttered and empty. The floor space was open enough right now, but there were pillars of books sprouting from partially unloaded crates all over the place, and even more shoved against the walls. Corners glinted with cobwebs hanging over planks of unassembled shelves. Furniture, some purchased new, some not, was shoved into one such corner for the time being, covered in brown paper to protect them from the wax drippings from the dull candle holders just barely clinging to the barren walls. Aziraphale watched as a draft of wind finally succeeded in sneaking through the space to blow out one of the candles with an acrid puff of smoke.

At that moment, a dull thud sounded from his door.

“Goodness,” said Aziraphale. Someone must be seeking refuge from the storm. Of course, as a host of humble Heavenly virtues, he would oblige—so long as they did not touch the books. He bustled over to the door, fussing with the rusting lock for a brief moment before wind tore it from his hands and slammed the heavy doors open with a startling bang, revealing a huge, hunchbacked figure.

“Come in!” he exclaimed. “It’s positively dreadful out there.” A flash of lightning illuminated a familiar sharp face. “Crowley? What are you doing out here?”

“Hey, angel.” Crowley looked, to put it in the gentlest terms possible, terrible. 

His hair, usually so meticulously styled, hung in lank, dripping strands around his shoulders. His sunglasses were missing, and his eyes were entirely yellow—a sharp contrast to the black and blue bruises sprawling all across his jaw and his cheeks. The hunchbacked shape could be sourced to his wings, which were out and held awkwardly.

Aziraphale gasped. “What happened to you? How—?” He reached out, but Crowley harshly smacked his hand away even as he leaned towards him. Unbalanced, he careened into the doorway and swore loudly.

“‘M sorry,” he hissed, clutching his shoulder. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

Crowley’s eyes rolled up and he pitched forward. Aziraphale rushed to catch him, stumbling as Crowley collapsed into him. He grunted and lowered them both as gently as he could to the floor, a task hindered immensely by Crowley’s massive wings.

“Oh, my goodness, alright—down we go, that’s it, dear boy…”

God in Heaven, what had happened to him? Aziraphale’s hand went to his mouth as he knelt beside Crowley’s crumpled form. For the longest time, he could only stare in mute horror at the still-bleeding cuts littering Crowley’s body, the blooming black bruises, and his wings, oh, his wings. He had to look away. 

“What happened,” he mouthed again uselessly. His hands hovered fearfully over Crowley’s body, desperately wanting to do something, but equally resenting the possibility of causing harm instead. Even as he sat, Crowley moaned dismally into the floorboards and curled in on himself a little more.

“S’rry,” he slurred, more breath than a distinct syllable. “Gimme—gimme a sec—hah, fuck… ”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said. “You’re in hardly any shape to talk, let alone do something foolish.” A low rumble of thunder shook the floor. “You’re in my care now. Let me help you.”

“S’not… you don’t have to help, I know you don’t want to.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean? Of course I do.”

A tremor went through Crowley’s body, and Aziraphale realized he was laughing. “‘Cause yer ‘n angel. Tha’s it.” He paused. “Maybe if I was something else. Wasn’t a demon, you’d want to. I get it.”

“That just isn’t true!” Aziraphale snapped, hurt, though he did not know why. It was not as though Crowley was wrong; he did want to help, and yes, it was likely a result of his angelic nature. But was that truly all? It mustn't be if it stung this much. “I’m moving you to the back of the shop. Someone could see you. Hold still.” As if anyone else would be out in this storm when the rain was as hard and cold as blades, and the wind struck as hard as a whip against the creaking walls of his shop.

He spent a moment figuring out how to best move Crowley without aggravating him. Or rather, aggravating him the least, because it seemed not one square inch of flesh had been spared from some grievance. Aziraphale very badly wanted to snap his fingers and transport Crowley’s body the twenty or so feet he needed, but again, Heaven was closely watching him. Forget moving a shelf. If they caught him using miracles on a demon to heal him instead of outright killing him while he was at his most vulnerable, the consequences would be far worse than a letter of condemnation. 

He said he knew you wouldn’t want to help him, and he came anyway. He said he had nowhere else to go, and he came to you. Answer him; will you let him die? Will you let him die because you are afraid to do what you know is the right thing?

Aziraphale uttered an unsavory phrase under his breath and deemed Crowley’s right shoulder to be in the best condition to be handled. “I’m picking you up now,” he told Crowley, who did not react to his voice or the hand he placed on her shoulder. He pulled Crowley up, draped one arm over his shoulders, and stood slowly, waiting for a whimper of pain, a gasp, or a curse. All he got was a faint, “M’ugh.”

Aziraphale slowly dragged him towards the back of the shop, skin crawling as the limp ends of Crowley’s listless wings left streaks of blood on the floorboards so dark they almost looked black. All of the clutter moved aside under his glare, creating a path to what would eventually become his nook. In it sat a new sofa, a desk whose surface was hidden beneath haphazardly stacked piles of books, and a few more unassembled shelves. He snapped his fingers as he approached. The sofa stretched to become much broader and longer, probably more so than necessary, but there was no time to be picky. Another snap and an array of squashy pillows appeared at one end. 

“I’m going to try to patch you up,” Aziraphale said as he carefully sat Crowley down into a slouched seating position. Crowley’s eyelids blearily twitched open. Aziraphale sucked a breath in through his teeth. “They roughed you up, my dear, but that won’t be a problem. You’ll be raring to go quicker than you can say ‘crêpes!’”

Crowley groaned again at that. “You and your bloody crêpes. S’why I got caught up in the first place.”

A horrible chill shocked his body. “What?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s—Shit, ow — Don’t worry your pretty head about it, angel.”

“Pardon me, but why the hell should I not worry?”

“Later.” Crowley slumped sideways against the pillows, carefully keeping his wings out of the way. “Just—if you’re serious about helping, talking’s only going to make me die quicker.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “We’re talking about this later,” he warned. “But for now…” A fluffy white rag appeared in his hand. “You’re probably going to want to bite this.”

Aziraphale collapsed into his armchair, shoulders, neck, and hands aching something fierce. Exhaustion pricked his eyes, a sensation he had been more than happy to leave behind in the chaos that was the European Renaissance. His discomfort was likely nothing compared to that of Crowley, who was fast asleep on the sofa and bandaged and cleaned up to the best of Aziraphale’s ability. The bruising and swelling faded with minimal trouble at least, but the same could not be said for the rest of Crowley’s more grievous injuries. 

When it came to cleaning and closing of the lacerations, Aziraphale had almost wept at the sheer amount of cuts and gashes littering poor Crowley’s body. It’d taken hours to close all of them; Crowley’s flesh heavily disagreed with his holy touch, flaring up angrily if he sustained it for more than a minute. It had taken them well into the night, possibly into the early morning, to heal all of the cuts he could find. Most of them would leave scars. Aziraphale prayed—no, that would probably worsen the process— hoped they would fade with time. 

Setting the broken bones of his fingers and wings was easily the most taxing portion. He’d healed the fingers alright but had only gone so far as to splinting Crowley’s wings. Coaxing the wayward shards of bone scattered in the lean muscle of Crowley’s wing to return to their places had taken everything he had. By the time he finished, he was too exhausted to deal with detailed, meticulous work like rearranging Crowley’s feathers back into their usual sleek uniformness, so they were still bent and broken in huge patches, stiff with blood.

Despite that, he felt he’d done what he could. He wished, gaze lingering on the colorful strips of bruises peeking between the bandages, he could do more. But his reserves of medical supplies were already woefully low before Crowley had stumbled inside, plus he had started running on fumes of miracle energy about four hours ago. He felt scraped empty and raw. But Crowley was not in danger of dying in his sleep and that was going to have to be good enough for the time being.

Crowley’s face pinched as he mumbled into his pillow in his sleep. Aziraphale bit his lip.

Maybe one more miracle.

He wearily held up his hand and murmured, “May you dream of whatever you like best,” and snapped his fingers. An unpleasant zing went down his arm, but he could forgive it as Crowley sighed contentedly and seemed to fall into a deeper sleep. “I’ll be here. Rest well, my dear,” he sighed. 

Satisfied, Aziraphale slumped back down in the chair and settled his chin on his chest, absently rubbing his thumbs. His gaze lazily roamed about Crowley’s body for any cuts he may have missed or had been reopened. Crowley had set his progress back a couple of times when he’d awoken with Aziraphale’s hands on him. Evidently distressed, he reacted the way anyone would expect a scared and injured person to react: thrashing, yelling, hitting, hard, wild unrecognition blazing in his bruise yellow eyes. It made Aziraphale ache in a peculiar way. You’re with me, he wanted to tell him as he shushed and consoled him, you’re with me, you’re safe here, what’s the matter with you?

Eventually, Crowley passed out a final time. He had not awoken since, but the feeling still had not settled. It prickled Aziraphale even now, prodding and persistent like the loose threads of missed stitches in his clothes. But as insistent it was, it could not push through the rubbery numbness of exhaustion. Introspection could happen later. He needed some rest.

A cracking yawn forced its way out of his chest. Crowley had lauded the glories of sleep on a few occasions. Perhaps now would be the time to see what the fuss was all about. Just a few minutes, and he’d be ready to go.

He took one final glance at his unfinished packing job, at the scattered books, the trail of blood, and then, at last, at Crowley. 

“Be right here,” Aziraphale said quietly as he finally let his leadened eyelids slip shut. “Right… here…”