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generalized-incompetence · 3 years ago

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Listen the cave scene when Todd and Dirk first arrive in Wendimoor drives me up the wall and I simply cannot take it anymore so I have fixed it for myself so that (1) Todd does not leave (or comes back at least), and (2) Dirk has some sort of emotional resolution that’s not just “oh I found A Clue so my trauma is fixed now.” Anyway please read on for my new updated hopefully improved personal canon.

---

I’ll solve this one on my own.

Todd tromps through the woods, still pulsing with anger. He’d lost everything for Dirk, given up everything, and for Dirk to quit now, when they’re so close –

For once in my life, I don’t quit.

That’s right. He’s changed. He didn’t quit on finding Dirk, and he’s not going to quit on finding Amanda, either, with Dirk or without him.

Friendship isn’t just about someone being there for you. It’s about you being there for them, too.

He was there for Dirk. He is there for Dirk. He would be there for Dirk, if Dirk would stop being such a - such a –

I leave a trail of dead people –

Todd kicks a tree once, then twice, then over and over, wailing away at the bark like it’s responsible for all of this. He keeps seeing Dirk’s slumped shoulders, Dirk’s blank eyes. He is trying to be there for Dirk, but he’s just some guy, so far out of his depth, and it’s not that Dirk’s failed him, it’s that he’s failed Dirk, that all his efforts to support and befriend and, yes, pep-talk him into his bullshit have only led them to death and despair, to hopelessness in a fucking fake dimension, and no matter where Dirk keeps placing the blame, this whole mess is Todd’s fault, too.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting on the rough bark of the alternate dimensional tree. This whole mess, he thinks again, is his fault too.

For once in my life, I don’t quit.

So why has he quit on Dirk?

The alternate dimensional leaves rustle above him, and he hears Dirk again, Dirk spiraling, Dirk in full depths of panic: Wrong, wrong, wrong, and then I end up alone…

No, he thinks, pushing himself off the tree and turning back. Not alone. Not anymore.

---

Dirk is alone again.

If he keeps going, more people will die, and he’ll be alone. If he stops, people will probably still die, and he’ll be alone. There’s no winning here. There never is.

But he’d thought, maybe, this time…

He draws his knees up into his chest and buries his head in his arms, wishing he could block everything out: the past, the present, this case, this dimension. If the universe wants this case solved, it can damn well solve it itself. Todd is gone, as he should be, and Dirk is done, and there’s nothing else left.

“...Dirk?” says a voice.

It’s not Todd. It can’t be Todd, because Todd left. Still. Dirk looks up.

“Are you okay?” says Todd.

Dirk wants to shrink into the wall, to bury himself under the floor. “What do you want,” he says.

Todd rubs his face. His knuckles are cracked and bleeding. More pain, Dirk thinks, caused by him. "I… shouldn't have left," Todd says to the floor. "Sorry."

Dirk is… Dirk doesn’t know what he is. He is angry, frustrated, despondent - and tired, so tired, tired of getting his hopes up, just to have them dashed again. "Why not?" he snaps. "We're not friends, according to you."

Pain flashes across Todd's face, and something in Dirk is glad. "I shouldn't have said that," Todd says. "I am your friend, but I'm a - I'm a pretty shitty one."

Dirk doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. Todd hovers in the cave entrance a while longer and then crosses the cave to sit next to Dirk, leaning back against the hanging vines, which are probably significant in ways Dirk refuses to think about. Dirk doesn't react except to turn his head slightly away.

Silence presses in around them. Dirk doesn't move to break it. Todd is so quiet Dirk can almost forget he's there; it's just Dirk and the dark and the memory of Priest's voice. If this whole place is a dream then maybe Priest is just a nightmare, but nightmares can do damage enough. Priest is no fool, he'll find the bed and he'll come through, he'll drag Dirk back - and why shouldn't he? It's where Dirk belongs.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong…

"Dirk," says Todd, so quietly that Dirk almost misses it, "it's not your fault."

And he sounds –

And his voice is –

And then suddenly Dirk is crying, tears are streaming down his face, because Todd's voice is kind. Because he sounds like he means it. Because after everything Dirk has done to ruin his life and everyone's around him, Todd is still here. It is unfathomable to Dirk, that anyone would ever come back; people leave, or they die, that’s all there ever is. But Todd –

Todd, his friend –

Todd, who doesn’t think this is his fault –

Dirk collapses into Todd, sobbing so hard he can barely breathe, for everything he is and isn’t, all he’s done and had to do. For The Boy, whoever he is. For Farah, left behind. For all those people at the hospital, all those people, because of him –

He clutches Todd’s shirt like he’s drowning, because he is, always has been. He buries his face in Todd’s chest like he can burrow inside Todd’s voice. “It’s not your fault,” Todd repeats, and maybe if Dirk’s close enough, he’ll believe it. Todd’s arms close around him, Todd, his friend, and Dirk lets go, lets himself feel, lets out all the pain and the agony of being that torment him every day.

He cries until there’s nothing left, until he’s wrung-out and shuddering, and as he sniffles and struggles to breathe, Todd is still there. Todd stays.

---

Dirk wakes in the morning with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose and Todd Brotzman snoring on his shoulder.

Still here, Dirk thinks, and smiles faintly. The morning light streams through a gap in the cave and paints Todd’s face in gentle gold. Todd is rumpled and mussed, shirt still stained with Dirk’s tears, but to Dirk, he is beautiful.

He doesn’t know if it’s the sleep or the cry or just Todd, but he feels… lighter. Not good - not yet - but better. He does his best to stretch his sleep-cramped arms without waking Todd up. The giant moon smiles down from above, and Dirk thinks, maybe, he might like to explore this place.

Todd shifts, dislodging a vine, and light glances off some feature of the cave wall. No - not a feature. Dirk tilts his head. It almost looks manmade. Almost like… a drawing.

Dirk’s heart sinks as fast as it had risen. The universe, he thinks, plays dirty. If he keeps going, he’ll just hurt more people; so many have died, and it’s –

It’s not your fault, says Todd’s voice, unwavering.

He may be wrong, he thinks, with resolve. But he is not alone. Not anymore.

Todd stirs, opening bleary eyes. “Dirk?” he says. “Where are we?”

Dirk takes a deep breath and smiles. “Wendimoor,” he says, “remember? And you’ll never believe what I’ve just found.”

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #todd brotzman #my fic #ok i know that they have to split up so todd can get arrested but i feel that this minor plot matter is secondary to dirk's extreme #emotional crisis which also seems somewhat pressing!#anyway this is my canon now and the plot stuff will work out they can meet rainbow in the woods or something #sorry for back to back angst uhh i have some fluff somewhere

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mycoolwritingcorner · 3 years ago

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Buried Feelings: Facing Love at Last Chapter 1: Until She Didn’t

In the fallout of the final battle against Galaxia, Ami finds it has become increasingly difficult to keep her feelings for a certain Guardian of Thunder bottled up. Will her friends be able to help her out, or will the Guardian of Water’s fears get the better of her?

“Mizuno?”

“MIZUNO!”

The shout combined with her teacher slamming her hand down onto her desk brought the dazed bluenette back to reality.

“Sorry, sorry,” she quickly stammered, “yes?”

“Could you please translate the phrase for us?” The teacher questioned.

“Oh, of course!” She replied, “Um… what phrase exactly?” The young girl asked, sheepishly.

…

Ami wasn’t surprised when she was asked to stay after class. Nor was she surprised by what her teacher had to say to her after class. The reason for that being that this had become a common occurrence in the last few weeks.

“You’ve seemed so distant lately Mizuno.”

“You need to stay focused Mizuno.”

“You’ve got such a bright future ahead of you, don’t mess that up now Mizuno.”

With the way everyone talked to her it was no wonder she had an identity crisis a while back. As far as they were concerned she was just supposed to be a studying robot and nothing more. And while their faux concern did frustrate her, what was even more frustrating was that, despite their criticisms coming from the wrong place… they were right.

It was only a few weeks ago that Sailor Moon had defeated Galaxia, only a few weeks ago that the Starlights had departed back to their home planet along with their princess, only a few weeks ago… that she and her friends all died. Again.

Only this time was different. They didn’t just die, their very essence was stolen from within them. And, unlike last time, they didn’t just forget that it happened. And while her and her friends had (for the most part) at least somewhat gotten over the existential horror of what had happened to them, for Ami it dug up something she had been trying to avoid for some time now. Something she always had managed to suppress or push away followed her like a shadow, from which there was no escape.

“No escape, huh?” Ami heard as she left the classroom, shocking her out of her thoughts.

“W-what?” Ami stammered as she looked up at Makoto, who had waited for her in the hallway after the rest of the class had left.

“They wouldn’t let you leave without a lecture, right?” Makoto pressed.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right Mako.” Ami finally answered.

“Figures.” The taller girl replied as the two began walking. “You’d swear you were scoring like Usagi with the way these teachers have been treating you this last little while.”

“They’re only concerned.” Ami countered, even if she didn’t quite believe it herself.

“Yeah, concerned you’ll stop carrying the entire school’s average test scores on your back and they might actually have to start teaching.” Makoto shot back. Ami blushed slightly at the compliment, even if it was couched in a critique of the school.

“I don’t carry the school’s test scores, Mako.”

“Uh huh.” Makoto replied before adopting a more serious demeanor. “In all seriousness though, what’s up?”

Ami’s blood went cold. “What… what um… what do you mean?”

“You have been a lot more distant lately. You stare off into space a lot more than you used to. At least before you’d have your nose planted in a book.”

“What, are you also worried about me bringing down our test score average?” Ami shot back with a smirk.

“Oh heck no, you lowering the bar for all of us is not something I would complain about.” Mako said jokingly. “BUT,” she said, regaining her serious demeanor, “I’m worried about you.”

“Oh, great, good going Mizuno. For all your complaining about having to bury your emotions you think you could have buried them a little better!” Ami thought, mentally chastising herself.

“And I think I know what it is.” Makoto continued, causing Ami’s heart to skip a beat.

“You… um… you do?” Ami said, her mouth suddenly becoming very dry.

“Yep, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep it bottled up anymore.” Makoto pressed on, either not noticing or not acknowledging Ami’s steadily increasing fidgeting.

“Uh huh… what um… what exactly are you referring to, Mako?” Ami said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“C’mon, Ami, don’t play dumb.” Makoto said, seemingly becoming a little frustrated by Ami’s resistance in talking to her. “We both know you’re struggling with… y’know…” Makoto leaned in close so no one would hear. Ami could feel her body temperature rising sharply due to her close proximity to Makoto, “... the whole Galaxia thing.”

In an instant the massive amount of tension Ami didn’t even realize she was holding onto was released, along with a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, that. I mean-” Ami quickly stumbled back into her facade, “Oh, that.”

“And I know you probably feel like if you bring it up again you’ll be reopening old wounds but I just want you to know that even if you don’t want to bring it up in front of everybody, I’m here for you and you can talk to me about it whenever you need.”

Ami was torn. On the one hand she was relieved that Mako hadn’t figured out the real reason she had been withdrawn lately, but on the other she hated that she was making Makoto worry about her. “Best to tread this carefully.” She thought.

“Well, that definitely is a factor, but it’s not quite what you think.” Ami began, “I guess after such a difficult bit of time it’s just hard for me to go back to my normal routine. But I really am fine, it’ll just take some time and some rest for me to get fully back to normal.”

“I mean, technically that wasn’t a complete lie…”

“Well, take all the time you need. I’m here for you.” Makoto said before stammering out “Uh, me and the others, that is.”

“Thank you, Mako, I appreciate it.” Ami said, although secretly she wished Mako hadn’t felt the need to amend her statement.

“And, on the bright side, after all that stuff went down we haven’t had to deal with any monsters since. Maybe on their way out the Starlights removed the big ‘INVADE HERE’ sign that someone had stuck to the Earth.” Makoto said jokingly.

Ami giggled at the joke. “Oh, Mako.”

At that point Ami realized it was almost time for them to part ways. Truth be told, she hadn’t even fully registered that they had left the school. It was an odd effect that Mako had on her. When the two of them were talking everything else seemed to fade into the background.

“Well, guess I’ll see you at the shrine later.” Makoto said as they reached the corner.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Ami replied. As she began to walk away from Makoto she immediately slipped back into her own mind. “How did I get here?” was a question she had asked herself a lot over the last few weeks. The answer, however, was always the same. It always required her to go back to that day when she and Rei walked into the Crown Arcade and saw Usagi playing the Sailor V game with a new friend.

Ami never believed in love at first sight. Quite frankly, romantic love as a whole was always a bit difficult for her to grasp. That is, until she met Makoto Kino. Granted, for a while she had tried to rationalize the rush of emotions she experienced upon first meeting Makoto as something else. When she first met Usagi and Rei she had been struck by a certain feeling of familiarity about them, which she later learned was because of hidden memories of her past life, so surely it was the same thing with Makoto, right?

There was only one problem with that. Not only was the feeling stronger than when she first met Usagi and Rei, it also persisted. Which left two options, either it was her subconsciously remembering her past life, but in that past life her relationship with Makoto had been different from that between her and the others, or it was something else entirely. And, depending on how one looked at it, either option could lead someone to the same conclusion.

She had tried to press Luna about it, at least as best she could without giving too much away, but Luna simply told her that even she did not remember everything from the Silver Millennium, and even the things she did remember may be better left unsaid.

But Ami had still denied it being anything special. Be it out of ignorance or fear, it didn’t matter. Makoto was her friend and her teammate. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. And she truly believed that.

Until she didn’t.

When Makoto gave her life at D-Point it had shocked everyone, but Ami could not even begin to describe the pain she was in. Everything was a blur for a bit, but when she came to she was furious at what she was hearing.

Usagi was trying to bargain away the Silver Crystal in exchange for their lives.

“How dare she?” Ami thought at the time, “How dare she even suggest that we let Mako, my Mako, have died for nothing?”

In a swift motion she released her frustration onto Usagi… and immediately felt immense guilt. She knew that Usagi had loved Makoto too, as she loved all of them, and just like Ami, Usagi’s immense grief was causing her to act unlike herself.

Ami knew, however, that if they simply stayed here wallowing then the DD Girls would gain the upper hand, and Mako’s sacrifice truly would have been in vain. So she decided it would be best for her to stay behind and keep them busy while those with the necessary firepower moved closer to the heart of this frozen hellscape.

But Ami remembered. In those final moments before her demise, thinking about how if she ever, by some miracle, got the chance to see Mako again, she wouldn’t hold anything back. She would tell her exactly how she felt. That miracle came in the form of Usagi utilizing the Silver Crystal’s power to bring everyone back to life. And Ami stuck to her plan.

Until she didn’t.

Once everyone got their memories back Ami managed to convince herself that the benefits of telling Makoto how she felt simply did not outweigh the potential cost. If she told her she could be jeopardizing not only their own friendship, but the team’s ability to function as a unit. And all for what? So Ami could get her heart broken? After all, it’s not like Makoto was exactly shy over her attraction to men and, seeing as Ami was not one, she felt that alone shot down any hope she might have had. And so she decided it would be best to simply appreciate having her as a friend. And she did.

Until she didn’t.

Haruka and Michiru caused a lot of trouble when they first arrived. Both as Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune, and just as themselves. When Ami first heard that Makoto was out on a date with Haruka she felt a flurry of emotions. Shock, jealousy, curiosity, and many, many more. But the most important one was the emotion that she had been trying to suppress this whole time: hope. Sure, her being out with Haruka was a bit of a problem but if Makoto liked girls then maybe… just maybe… there was hope that someday she would return Ami’s feelings. Ami quickly shoved that aside, however.

“Haruka just has that effect on people.” Ami thought at the time, “It doesn’t mean anything, and even if it did it’s not worth risking the team just because I want to be selfish.”

And Ami stuck to that.

Until she didn’t.

One surely couldn’t blame her, however. She simply couldn’t stand to watch Makoto sulk in the corner when she had been so excited to come to the dance. The fact that she looked absolutely stunning in her dress didn’t help matters either.

“These men are all fools.” Ami had thought bitterly in the seconds prior to doing something she had always wanted to do but never believed she could: she asked Makoto for a dance.

Prior to asking she had convinced herself that it was simply a friendly courtesy and nothing more. As soon as they stepped out to the dance floor, however, those thoughts melted away. Feeling Mako’s hand in hers, being in perfect sync with the one she loved, she wished this would never end. Unfortunately for her, not only did it end, it came to a screeching halt and then shattered into a thousand pieces when Makoto not only left her to dance with the first man who asked her mere moments after, but then proceeded to obsess over him for the next twenty-four hours. After learning it was Tiger’s Eye they eventually chalked it up to him having some kind of thrall over her, but for Ami that didn’t make the whole experience any less painful.

Thankfully, she soon after discovered a way of distracting herself from the pain through a little side project of writing some lyrics for a song she found online… that is until she realized that the lyrics she was writing were largely a reflection of her feelings for Makoto.

“‘I want to stare at your side profile forever…’ Boy, if that wasn’t the truth.”

But Ami did find some peace in writing it. Once it was done and out there she felt a sense of relief. As though in writing it she had come to terms with the reality of her situation, she could finally move on, meet new people, and find love elsewhere. After finishing her high school entrance exams, that is. Yes, this was her plan, and she knew that this time she would stay the course and get over Makoto.

Until.

She.

Didn’t.

The Sailors’ most recent brush with death was different from the last time. The first time they were brought back they had been spared having to process it right away, due to their amnesia. And once their memories were finally back, it was in the heat of battle and long enough after the events that they had some distance from it. Not this time though. This time they were all too aware. And as such, everyone had been struck with a bad case of ‘life’s too short’. With the absence of any serious threat, Minako had buckled down and started seriously pursuing her singing career, Rei began discussing taking over more of the shrine’s operations from her grandpa, Makoto started planning out the bakery she wanted to open, and poor, sweet Usagi couldn’t go five minutes without crying and telling her friends how much she loved them.

For Ami, however, the experience merely reopened old wounds. Wounds she had almost convinced herself she had cauterized shut. There was no denying it, she was as in love with Mako now as she had ever been. She was all Ami could think about as she faded away after her Star Seed had been taken, and she had been on her mind near constantly since being returned to the land of the living. Ami felt like her feelings were consuming her from the inside out. There was no more pushing them down, no more hiding them, no more ignoring them. They were there and Ami needed to find a way to deal with them. And if the feelings weren’t bad enough on their own, now Makoto was starting to take notice. She needed to figure out what to do, how to approach this. Unfortunately, for all the credit her friends gave her for her genius tactical mind, she had no plan for what to do. All she knew was that she couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer, she needed to talk to someone. But who?

Minako seemed to be the obvious choice. She was the self-proclaimed ‘Goddess of Love’, after all. This came with its own problems, however. Minako spent almost as much, if not more time with Makoto as Ami did (not that Ami kept track or anything). And Minako wasn’t exactly known for her subtlety. If Ami told her she could potentially let it slip to Makoto which Ami definitely didn’t need right now.

Haruka and Michiru would probably have some helpful insight on the subject, but unfortunately their careers kept them so busy that it would be some time before Ami would be able to meet with them privately. Time Ami didn’t have.

She loved Usagi like a sister, but couldn’t help but immediately rule out bringing this to her for similar reasons why she couldn’t bring it to Minako.

That only left one option. An option that Ami was honestly surprised she didn’t jump to first. And with that, she began planning how exactly to approach this person with the topic.

And that’s where we’ll leave chapter 1. Don’t worry, it’s all written and edited, just figured it would be better to space it out.

But please, let me know what you guys think! Comments, likes, reblogs, etc. are of course all greatly appreciated.

And come back next time for chapter 2: Seeking Guidance.

Next Chapter

#sailor moon #ami mizuno #makoto kino #makoami #amimako #ami x makoto #makoto x ami #sailor mercury #sailor jupiter #sailor scouts #ami/makoto #makoto/ami

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cancerjupiter · 4 years ago

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🔥 fire moons 🔥

aries moon

Probably the simplest, most bluntly honest and emotionally direct of all the Moon signs, they tend to be single-minded when involved in their latest enthusiasm, not liking to be bothered (least of all by “emotional” distractions or someone else’s “personal needs”). Most of them will have thousands of such interests in their lives, each of which takes on a feeling of pressing importance and tremendous urgency … until they lose interest when the source of excitement is no longer new. Very action-oriented and thus often a bit pushy, they frequently react impatiently, even when they are not nearly so annoyed or irritated as others may assume from their explosive behavior. Aries above all needs new challenges throughout their lives. Often fearless, the one fear Aries Moon does have is fear of boredom. They always need a new challenge.

They are usually poor listeners, not just because of their obsessive self-interest but also because they tend to jump to conclusions (unless they have, say, lots of Gemini or Libra in their charts, in which case the result is people who can be superb at “active listening”—quickly grasping the essentials and energetically giving lots of instant feedback). Actually, as one perceptive woman with Aries Moon pointed out to me, they need to feel that they are not influenced by others, and therefore they appear not to be listening to others’ advice or observations. And yet, months later, they may inadvertently reveal that they heard it very well and even reflected on it and accepted it later.

Easily bored, restless, rather self-centered, they are by nature competitive—even though many of them don’t like to acknowledge it. They simply have to be the best at everything! As one woman wrote, “Two women I know with Aries Moon are domineering. They think they know all the answers, and that they are always right” (AQ). However, even though instinctively competitive, they do not tend to hold a grudge since they move on to their next interest so quickly—unless they see the other person as an enemy to their freedom who is trying to control or limit them. They are in fact extremely self-sufficient; they prefer independence and the freedom to act without restriction and rarely seek any kind of input from others.

Women with Aries Moon (or Sun for that matter) often use “toxic masculinity” at least in a gentle, non doctrinaire way, because they respect strength and competitiveness, and thus have little time for weeping and moaning from others.

Men with Aries Moon tend to expect a lot from women. In women it gives a strong sense of purpose and freedom.

A thirty-year-old female wrote the following about men with Moon in Aries:

“They seem to totally involve their attention in a very direct and powerful way in the scrutiny of new “data,” often to the extent of monopolizing conversations or others’ attention until their interest wanes or changes focus. They’re also very self-centered: their ideas, their action, their feelings come first, and they don’t usually have a lot of empathy for the needs or feelings of others; they’ll listen, but they’re not consistently good with feedback or support.”

Aries Moon can be outspoken and tactless. Their emotional reactions to stimuli seem raw, completely spontaneous and uncensored.

leo moon

Those with Leo Moon react warmly, generously, and often with enthusiasm and/or humor. There is a childlike simplicity about them, and in fact their notable pride often resembles that of a child as well. These people need recognition and demonstrative affection, and their pride is often hurt if such attention is not given in sufficient and public ways. Like all the fixed signs (Taurus, Scorpio, and Aquarius being the others), Leo is a sign of extremes; and it is therefore difficult to paint a balanced picture of their personal tendencies. They are often shallow and prone to flattery, and yet they have considerable personal integrity, which is not usually compromised. Needing to live up to a big and rather dramatized image of themselves, the Leo Moon person can be rather a show-off. But they do it with such innocence and high expectations that they are often forgiven for their tendency toward self-absorption and dramatization. In fact, it seems they are so in need of attention and so childlike themselves that in very few cases do they have room for children in their lives, even though they often have a natural way with kids and can be great parents. Although not a scientific fact, all the Leo Moons I can think of offhand have either no children or only one child.

They can be loyal, sometimes blindly loyal to the point of foolish behavior that has a negative impact on everyone concerned; and they can be generous (but they do not mind if others notice their benevolence). Shortsightedness is perhaps one of Leo Moon’s worst faults. Some “cannot see past the ends of their noses” and are so self-absorbed that they do not even notice others’ reactions to their sometimes obnoxious, grandiose behavior. This shortsightedness surprisingly extends to their understanding of their own potential. It has always amazed me how many Leo Moon people (with innate talents and ability in abundance!) sell themselves short and wind up worldly failures in comparison to what they had the ability to do. I cannot help but suspect that one reason for this is that their huge pride prevents them from ever listening to (or asking for) honest feedback about themselves. Perhaps they secretly fear that they are not quite up to their self-image. They are known for being insulted easily, so they naturally do not want to expose their fragile ego to criticism, no matter how well-intentioned. But unless they develop a deeper self-understanding and the ability to accept authentic personal communication from others, they may remain engaging in their earnestness and simplicity, but it can eventually wear thin, like a person who never grows up.

Leo Moon people have a capacity for encouraging others that can be extremely supportive and strengthening in a crisis. They can be as solid a support system as one could ever want, but in other cases they seem fanatically convinced that they are having a great, positive impact on others (regardless of the truth) and they want to be thanked for it. Being admired is a central need in many with this Moon placement. (Note that Leo Moon is much more passive than Leo Sun, who is usually busy creating and doing.) There is a deep-down feeling of needing to live up to an image of bigness and greatness, even if they wind up resenting others for not noticing all that they have given. In short, the vast range of Leo Moon personalities evokes extreme reactions, and they are probably included in anyone’s list of people whom one has either deeply loved or strongly resented! Note the extreme and varied qualities noted about Leo Moon in this questionnaire response:

“People with the Moon in Leo always like to be on top of things. They like attention and some can be easily appealed to through the ego. Moon in Leo makes for dynamic personal expression. These people tend to make their presence felt.… the person often tries very hard to make others see them as somebody special, getting mixed reactions from others. While tending to be somewhat opinionated these people can make good listeners, can be very concerned, very caring even if a little overbearing. Moon in Leo is gregarious, dynamic, and can be very creative.”

Another perceptive observation about them:

“Moons in Leo are emotionally melodramatic. They’re easily upset, and tend to get fixated on what they’re feeling, sometimes to the point that their feelings become a major issue in which everyone around them has to participate. They like the excitement of having everyone’s attention on them, even when the price for that is an argument or some kind of conflict. Once they’ve satisfied themselves that they have everyone’s full attention, they’ll usually happily drop the issue and magnanimously allow someone else the “spotlight.” They’re performers.”

sagittarius moon

Tolerant, broad-minded, with a buoyant attitude toward life, those with Sagittarius Moon are idealistic by nature and instinctively react with a philosophical attitude toward any setback, knowing that the future (not the past!) is what matters. They are most comfortable when exploring ideas, ideals, or outdoor places and love a sense of freedom without limits. The distant horizon is always felt as more appealing than the here and now. They particularly need mental freedom (including religious and spiritual room to improve themselves), since their aspirations are not just high but boundless. In fact, the term “upbeat” was invented by a Sagittarius Moon! As one Sag Moon woman always repeated as her mantra, “I see the glass as half-full, not half-empty.” They like to entertain groups of people with their humor. In fact, they want to say yes to every opportunity; they want to feel that life is unbounded by any limits, and so they tend to instinctively promise far more than they can ever deliver. They assume, I suppose, that everyone else forgets as many immediate details as they do, a habit that backfires when angry friends and colleagues confront them demanding to know why the promise did not follow through. As a questionnaire reply asserted, “A need to be all things to all people” characterizes Sagittarius Moon. Generosity and “bigness” are dominant factors in their lives and in their sense of reality and self-image.

Sagittarius is the sign most likely to be oblivious to the realities right in front of them that are obvious to everyone else, so focused are they on the distant goal. Since the road to hell is paved with good intentions, Sagittarius Moon people need to be sure that their goals and ideals are grounded in what is truly possible. They do need a large guiding vision to motivate them in life, but they also need periodic times of self-examination to assess whether they are themselves living up to their ideals. They like to preach to others (usually “helpfully,” in their view), but if something does not work out, well, that is not their problem. Sagittarius Moon people rather dislike the heaviness of daily “reality” and personal or emotional problems.

They have difficulty handling any criticism and often in fact become more indignant than any other sign—a pride that is usually hidden and often surprises others who take their positive, happy demeanor at face value. As Donna Cunningham wrote, “The things that set Sagittarius Moon people off are having one of their pet theories or convictions demolished”. This pride, manifesting at times as a rather exalted view of oneself (perhaps as the only one who can reveal the “truth”), is part of the dualistic nature of Sagittarius, the symbol for which is the centaur—half horse and half human. Sagittarius has the lifelong task of integrating their more idealistic nature with their more unrefined, impulsive, egocentric tendencies. At their worst, they are so proud of their “honesty” (sometimes viewed by other people as tactless bluntness) and of their own moral or intellectual righteousness that—unless more humble or sensitive factors are also dominant in the chart—they can be so uncompromising in their mode of expression that they are often perceived as inconsiderate and unnecessarily hurtful.

Perhaps the key for Sagittarius Moon people to feel authentically at home with themselves is to apply their honesty to themselves as bluntly as they express it to others! They often think too highly of themselves and want to project an admirable image to others. They like to feel idealistic and upstanding, but if they look at themselves honestly, they often have to admit that they are not as impeccably honorable as they like to think; for they can rationalize their behavior as well as anyone when it is convenient or advantageous to do so. Sagittarius Moon is thus a good example of the fact that how people feel about themselves (always directly related to the Moon in anyone’s birth chart) is not necessarily how others see them and their behavior.

A couple quotations from questionnaires can round out this description of Sagittarius Moon:

“Easygoing, gets along with and accepts strangers without discrimination—though sometimes self-righteous and snobbish. Independent emotionally, doesn’t seem to need so much from one as they can get from many.”

“Moon in Sagittarius can be very high-minded, they respond very actively to life. These people can try to push others or just be domineering in general. They can be a little pushy but this is generally out of enthusiasm. For both sexes, can be very direct. For men—very honest in attitude, they say what is on their mind. For women this is also a very blunt placement. Both sexes can often be tactless; they speak the truth as they see it and figure that others should just accept it no matter how hard it is to swallow.”

#astrology #zodiac signs #aries #leo #moon signs #sagittarius #aries moon #leo moon #sagittarius moon #moon in aries #moon in leo #moon in sagittarius

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ti-bae-rius · 4 years ago

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Malec couple’s yoga one shot

“I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

“What? Yoga is a really great training activity. It keeps your muscles strong and toned and is great for flexibility and stamina.”

“Flexibility and stamina? I do like the sound of that.”

“Magnus!”

The two of them walked along the streets of New York, both in workout gear – though that phrase meant two wildly different things for each. Alec’s runes were glamoured and he wore his training gear – sans the heavy leather fabric shadowhunters donned for battle – which mainly consisted of a pair of loose jogging pants and a t-shirt that (like all Alec’s t-shirts) had seen better days. Magnus, however, had taken this as an opportunity to acquire some truly magnificent new clothes. A tank top reading ‘I’m heavily meditated’ and a pair of tight-fitting joggers, cuffed at the ankle and tailored to hang just right, completed Magnus’s outfit. Alec had to smile. No one else, in the history of workouts, had tailored yoga pants. But then no one else was quite like Magnus.

“We don’t need mats or anything, do we?” Alec asked, as they passed under the archway into Central Park. “The information seemed really vague. Do you think it’ll run over – my mom can only handle Max and Rafe for so long.”

“All this worrying doesn’t seem very zen of you,” Magnus chastised, taking Alec’s hand and swinging it like they did when they were making Max and Rafe ‘fly’ as they walked along the paths. Alec always thought this was somewhat of a big ask from Max, who actually could fly without the aid of Alec’s arms that were usually already somewhat tired from demon-hunting all day. Nevertheless, their squeals of joy made it all worthwhile.

A small throng of people were gathered, couples stretching together and chatting, in Central Park’s Sheep Meadow. Though still busy, it was somewhat less crowded and tourist-populated than the majority of the Park. Alec squinted to look who was there as the two of them walked closer and leaned up to whisper to Magnus, “There’s more gays than I thought there’d be.”

“Oh please, couples yoga is for three sets of people: bohemian lesbians who have squeezed this in between sensual pottery and live drawing where they only draw Cate Blanchett, straights whose marriages are on the rocks and are in desperate need of closeness not derived from brushing past one another on the way to write something on their family planner by the fridge, or gay couples – that’s us – whose marriage is just where it’s supposed to be.”

“And who want a brief moment of respite from their children – one of whom transforms into a bat when annoyed and one who loves annoying his brother?”

“I don’t think that’s quite as universal as you might expect,” Magnus pointed out and Alec laughed.

Thankfully, no one else seemed to have yoga mats. Despite Magnus’s assertions, most of the couples here looked calm and happy to be there. Alec relaxed a little and when a man and woman came over to introduce themselves as the instructors, he leaned casually against Magnus’s side, content to let his husband do the talking. He glanced round, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves of a nearby tree, mottling the grass below it with little pools of soft illumination. This was pretty nice, he thought, a feeling of serenity washing over him. Maybe Magnus was right, maybe Alec did just need to loosen up and relax, try and enjoy these new experiences. Maybe they’d become that couple, the couple that did yoga in the park and had brunch with their kids where they didn’t even drink mimosas or bloody marys because they didn’t need the pick-me-up of socially acceptable mid-morning alcohol. He’d always thought Izzy would be that person.

“Right,” the female instructor said in a voice that commanded the group. Though she’d raised her voice to gather them, she still sounded soft-spoken. “Let’s all find a space and let that space be our own bubble. Today, you and your partner are one being, two halves of one yogi. Together, let your hearts find a space. Be led by your shared heartbeat.”

Magnus and Alec exchanged a look and Magnus raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this was a little…much. Alec gave Magnus a miniscule frown and mouthed “that’s not very zen”. Magnus rolled his eyes but put a hand out and rested it on Alec’s chest, then put the other hand to his own.

“Our collective heartbeat is telling me that we should get out of here,” he said, with the same whimsical timbre to his voice that the instructor had. “It also says that the guac in the refrigerator needs eating tonight.”

Alec gave an inelegant snort and the instructors looked over at them. They didn’t look annoyed – Alec wasn’t sure people who were that at peace could be annoyed – but Alec schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I think just here is fine for our bubble,” he said and Magnus nodded, eyes glittering with amusement.

“I see we have some new energies in our space today,” the male instructor said, his speech with the same gentle lilt as his wife’s. “We welcome you into our family.” Magnus tried very hard not to think of how much this sounded like late-stage Crimson Hand rhetoric. “For our new friends, let me introduce us. This is my wife, Kelly, and I’m Gareth. Family, let’s emit some extra good vibes today to make our new souls feel welcomed and cherished.”

Alec firmly kept his eyes on the instructors instead of giving Magnus the weighted look he wanted to. Okay, this seemed a little full-on, but they’d just got here. They couldn’t judge it yet.

“What we’re going to do is start with a really easy pose that will help to solidify your connection to your partner and maintain your unity throughout our time together today,” breathed Kelly. “Let’s start with a stacked child’s pose. One half of your team transition now from mountain pose down to child’s pose, copying Gareth.”

Alec and Magnus exchanged looks and Alec shrugged, watching Gareth fold himself down onto the floor, facedown, as if having an existential crisis. Alec copied, and immediately felt the grass tickle his nose. From somewhere above him, Kelly continued talking.

“Now for our other halves, gently climb on your partner’s back and settle into the same pose. This is a really easy starting position and will keep us grounded and unified ready for our next step.”

Alec was about to say something when he felt Magnus’s weight settle atop him, pushing him further into the tickly grass. He breathed around the extra weight on his spine and Magnus bent to whisper in Alec’s ear.

“Wanna admit I was right to say we should’ve left?”

“No, this is very soothing,” Alec mumbled, and coughed on the grass that got in his mouth.

“Also, why is this child’s pose? Have Gareth and Kelly ever seen a child? If Max and Rafe were laid on the floor on their faces like this, I’d call an exorcist.”

“Shhh, I’m getting in touch with my inner peace,” Alec mumbled, and spluttered again on the grass in his mouth. “And also with this dirt.”

After a few minutes of relative calm, Gareth’s voice rung out, soft but commanding.

“Let’s all return to mountain pose now, stretching our arms up over our heads to transition to extended mountain.”

When Alec straightened up again, he glanced around, just to make sure he wasn’t being pranked. But no, a dozen other couples were all doing the same as them, lightly holding their hands above their heads, arms outstretched toward the sunny sky of New York. He settled back into it a little and tried to relax, wondering if relaxing was meant to take this much effort.

“Now we’re going to move into couple’s tree pose,” Gareth instructed. “Stand beside your partner and raise the arm closest to them into the air, touching their palm with yours. You can interlock your fingers here for extra emotional support, if you so desire. With your outside leg, rest the flat of your foot against your upper thigh, and bring your outside hands together to press flat against one another in the space between you.”

“Are you interlocking our fingers for emotional support?” Magnus whispered and Alec huffed a laugh.

“I’m doing it for structural support. I’m on some uneven grass and I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

“Consul Lightwood?”

Alec spun so fast that Magnus stumbled sideways, righting himself just in time and shooting Alec a furious look. In fact, the whole group were staring at them, looking as displeased as a group of people who had dedicated themselves to inner peace could look. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that displeased.

“Is there something disrupting your practise today?” Kelly asked, and Alec gave a nervous laugh.

“Just give me one second,” he said, staring off into the treeline where the call had come from.

“The forces outside your bubble are of no consequence during your practise,” Gareth told him, but Alec was already starting to walk over to the trees. Magnus gave a shrug to the instructors and an apologetic glance to the others in the group.

“He’s got a bad knee,” Magnus explained lamely and set off after Alec, jogging to catch up with him as he spoke to two younger shadowhunters. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen and were gaping up at Alec – and now Magnus too – with wide eyes.

“So how about I report back that you guys have been doing some great work on patrol, and you don’t tell anyone about…that,” Alec bartered. The two shadowhunters nodded and hurried off, casting looks over their shoulders as they went, heads bent together as they whispered. Alec looked at Magnus and burst out laughing. “Okay, you were right. We should’ve left before it started.”

“You mean you don’t want to get in touch with our shared heartbeat and become one soul in two bodies?” Magnus asked in mock-offence.

Alec gave him a sly side-eye and took his hand. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure we can work something out. We still have the apartment to ourselves for an hour or two before we have to get the kids.”

“What happened to ‘my mom can’t cope with them for too long’?” Magnus challenged, a devilish glint in his eye.

“She’ll be fine,” Alec assured him.

“Why are we going to yoga night school?” Magnus asked as they reached the building indicated on Alec’s phone.

“Because it’s the only class I could find in the area when we had someone to watch the kids,” Alec explained. “Don’t worry, I made Simon promise to make them dinner.”

“Well hopefully this one is less traumatic.”

Alec groaned. “Don’t remind me. At least in a building we don’t risk random shadowhunters walking past.”

“Unless they’re in the class too!” Magnus pointed out chirpily and Alec shot him a glare as they went inside.

Much like the last class, people were milling about in couples. Alec gave the crowded hallway a quick scan but couldn’t see anyone they knew – thankfully. Alec relaxed a little. There were about the same number of couples here too, around twelve, and Alec couldn’t tell who the instructors were. Mostly people were talking in soft voices, sipping bottles of water, and leaning affectionately into conversations with their partner. Magnus glanced around.

“What kind of yoga is this?”

“I don’t know, tandem or something,” Alec said. “It was the only one available, but it looks good. The website said something about building trust and closeness or whatever.”

“Clearly imperative for us,” Magnus said dryly. “What with us being so distant and untrusting and all.”

Alec rolled his eyes but smiled.

Before he could respond, a door opened at the end of the hall and a woman emerged in a pair of leggings and a sports bra. She smiled at them and beckoned them all in. As Magnus and Alec passed her in the door, she turned and beamed at them.

“You must be our new sign-ups. I hope you enjoy the class and feel more in touch with yourselves and your bodies when you leave.”

No cult-like mentions of joining a family, or bubbles, or shared heartbeats. Alec heaved a sigh of relief and gave a glance toward Magnus, who was looking around the room. Everyone did seem quite touchy-feely, Magnus thought, but brushed it off. What else should he have expected from couple’s yoga – particularly couple’s yoga with a majority hetero clientele? He and Alec took a seat at the back of the studio, removing their shoes like the others had done and putting them behind their mat, and chatted between themselves until the woman who’d greeted them stepped to the front of the room with her own partner, a tall and well-built surfer-dude type.

“So as most of you know, I’m Carly and this is Dale, and we’ll be your guides tonight. As always, please feel free to take breaks as you need them, communication with your partner is encouraged, and remember to open a conversation after tonight’s class about what you learned about each other and yourself. These classes can really prompt strong feelings, and those should be embraced and discussed in a non-judgemental and loving way.”

“How intense is this class meant to be?” Magnus whispered to Alec, who shrugged, looking a little nervous. Was this for expert yoga-people? Yogists? Yogurts? What kind of relaxation came with a warning?

“While Carly lights the candles and I bring the lights down and close the blinds, feel free to come to rest in any pose that feels comfortable for you. Perhaps that’s child’s pose, a seated position, or maybe even corpse pose,” Dale said, and began readying the room.

“I’m starting to think we might all end up in corpse pose by the end of the night,” Alec hissed quietly, glancing round. “This looks like how most demonic rituals begin.”

“Maybe this is all a trap and Elyaas is just trying to get us to let him see Max again,” Magnus suggested and Alec laughed, looking round at the other couples to see how they were sat. Many were laid side by side, like bodies in mortuary shelves, but a handful of them were laid on their sides, pressed close together as if they were cuddled in bed. Alec raised his eyebrow sceptically and settled for sitting with his legs crossed before him, his back against Magnus who was in the same position.

“I’m getting in first to say we should leave now,” Alec whispered, eyes closed. “Just so if this is as bad as last time, I’ll get to be right.”

Alec felt Magnus’s shoulders move against his as he chuckled, then start a little as Dale spoke again.

“Okay, excellent. Let’s all slowly move to sit opposite our partner, ready to start the session with some synchronized breathing. You can do this in whatever way works for you. You could put a hand on your partner’s chest to feel their inhales and exhales. You could close your eyes and focus on the sound of their breath or maintain eye contact and build a direct channel of communication. You could hold hands. Or you can just meditate, keeping your inhalations and exhalations as one with your partner.”

Alec shuffled round to face Magnus and immediately had to close his eyes. Something about staring into the face of your significant other in a quiet and meditative room made you immediately want to burst out into loud and obnoxious laughter. Instead, he let Magnus’s hand find his in the dark of their closed eyes and tried to match their breaths. Despite himself, Alec relaxed, his shoulders drooping, jaw unclenching. Being a shadowhunter wasn’t a relaxing job, and it was sometimes hard to find time to de-stress. Maybe he’d judged this whole thing too quickly, put off by the last time. Actually, this was pretty nice.

After a while, Carly’s voice came softly through the haze of meditation, instructing them to gently come back to the present. Alec blinked open his eyes and met Magnus’s soft gaze, smiling. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

“Okay, now we’re going to move to our first real position, yab-yum,” Carly said. “You can stay crossed-legged for this, though one of you will have to move a little. One partner will stay seated and the other will climb into their lap, hooking their legs around the other’s back, coming to rest in a lotus position. Dale and I will be transitioning into yab-yum so you can observe us if you get lost.”

Magnus beckoned Alec forward and put his arms around Alec’s waist as the shadowhunter settled onto his husband’s lap, feeling a little uncomfortable doing so in a crowded room. He glanced around to confirm this was right and found everyone else doing the same.

“Relax, we’re married,” Magnus grinned and Alec nodded, laughing to himself. Magnus was right. This was totally innocent; he was just being coy.

“Gently, you can start to rock forwards and backwards,” Dale instructed, resting his hands on Carly’s hips. “Just a slight movement is fine to start. You can time this to your breathing. Breathe in, rock forward. Breathe out, rock back.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow but shrugged, following as instructed. Alec wrinkled his nose. Was it just him or did this feel weirdly…intense? Even personal?

“Are you starting to get seasick?” Magnus teased and Alec shook his head.

“I’m just really confused. What is this meant to do?”

“Help us breathe together I guess. Though, I don’t want to brag, but I’ve been breathing for centuries and I’m pretty excellent at it. I’m currently on my high score of most breaths breathed. I bet I’ve been breathing way longer than all these assholes.”

Alec laughed and tried to relax into the exercise, but he couldn’t help feeling strangely fidgety, like something wasn’t right.

“For a more connective experience,” Dale said. “You can add extra elements, especially if you’re the partner sat on the floor. Try rocking your lower back as well and raising your hips towards your partner’s.”

Alec and Magnus exchanged confused looks, and Alec felt his eyes widen when a few nearby couples began breathing more shallowly, less controlled. Magnus covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at Alec’s scandalised expression.

“Did you know—” Magnus began and Alec shook his head vehemently.

“Is this…” He dropped his voice and mouthed, “sex yoga?”

Magnus gave a loud snort of laughter and Alec shushed him, but the laugh was contagious and the sound came out disjointed and breathless. Instead, Alec put a finger to his lips, and looked up at the ceiling, trying not to meet Magnus’s eyes and start their laughs again. It was going well until Carly gave a breathy sigh and continued.

“This pose represents the mother and father in the act of sexual union, and really appeals to both genders’ need for interpenetration.”

“Well this isn’t going to help us at all then,” Magnus muttered, rolling his eyes.

Alec lost his composure completely and gave a cry of amusement that was smothered too late by Magnus’s hand. Both of them were laughing now, bent forward towards one another with tears in their eyes. Alec could feel the disapproving stares of the other people in the class and tried hard to compose himself, but it was no use. From somewhere above them, someone cleared their throat and the two of them looked up to see Carly stood there, with a face like thunder. And who could blame her, Alec thought. Two total newbies had signed up for her class, been totally blind-sided by what it actually was, and had some kind of hysteric moment in the middle of their session. Before she could say anything, Alec climbed to his feet and pulled Magnus up after him by the hands, still grinning uncontrollably.

“I, ah, don’t think this is our class,” Alec muttered apologetically.

“Yeah, I’m sure it said Bridge club was next door,” Magnus added and Alec had to press his lips together so he didn’t laugh in the poor woman’s face. Alec swept down, grabbed his shoes in one hand and Magnus’s in the other, shoved a pair at his husband, and stumbled gracelessly from the room, weaving between yab-yumming couples, and shutting the door quickly behind them.

As soon as they were out of the building, the two of them exploded into laughter, the sound ringing out on the quiet New York streets. It was already dark, though not even gone seven, and Alec sank down onto a bench to lace up his sneakers, still shaking with amusement. Magnus was bent double, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Tantric, you idiot,” Magnus wheezed. “Tantric yoga, not tandem.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Alec protested, gesturing to the building. “Who does sex yoga at seven on a Thursday evening? It’s a school day tomorrow!”

Magnus cackled and threw his head back, reminding Alec of their very first date, the two of them howling with joy at the awful subway rappers. It was the first time Alec had remembered really letting go, really surrendering to the idea of being happy. There, walking the streets with Magnus back to the apartment that wasn’t yet his home too, Alec hadn’t thought about what anyone else would think, or if someone he knew would see him. All he could think about was those terrible performers, and the way Magnus’s laugh sounded like someone opening the door to the rest of his life, and the whisper of evening air like a great spirit whispering at him that he could finally relax.

Walking home, hand in hand, Magnus nudged a hip against Alec’s playfully.

“So, it’s super important to start a conversation after tonight’s class about what you learned about each other and yourself,” Magnus said, imitating Dale’s rolling Californian drawl.

“I learned that I should read the description of things properly before I book them for $60 a person,” Alec said.

“$60?” Magnus demanded incredulously. “You paid $120 for us to sit in a dark room with a bunch of horny couples and sit on each other’s laps?”

Alec rested his head on Magnus’s shoulder and laughed into the fabric of his jacket. “I just wanted us to have a good night out away from the kids and spend some time together.”

“I like movies, you know? And dinner, and the theatre, and literally anything where a woman doesn’t say interpenetration to me in a room full of other people.”

“Come on,” Alec urged, grinning. “Let’s at least take something from it. What did you learn?”

“I learned…that you are very, very attractive when you laugh,” Magnus said, leaning down to kiss the top of Alec’s head, feeling his husband nestle further into his shoulder. “How about you?”

“I learned…” Alec laughed shyly and straightened up, squeezing Magnus’s hand. “I learned that sitting on someone’s lap while they laugh is a unique experience that is not entirely without it’s…appeal.”

Magnus glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

Alec shrugged and Magnus spun Alec round by the hand.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Magnus said softly and watched devilishly as Alec went fantastically red. “Come on, let’s go. Luckily for you we have a ridiculous life so there’s plenty of things to laugh at to get you all hot and bothered.”

Alec swatted at him and shushed him, looking around the near-empty street.

“We can start with the fact that your husband still turns you into a fumbling mess.”

“You’ll always do that,” Alec reminded him, and shot Magnus a winning smile that sent Magnus into his own state of unravelling. “We could swing by Simon and Izzy’s and get the kids early.”

“Or…” Magnus said, with a familiar look in his eyes and Alec’s mouth quirked in a smile. “I don’t know why you look so smug; I was going to suggest we sat in silence and timed our breaths to each other,” Magnus said and ducked away, chuckling, as Alec went to grab for him.

When Alec inevitably caught him, he wrapped his arms around Magnus, pressing a kiss to his neck. “What is our life?” he sighed, and Magnus tilted his chin down so his lips met Alec’s.

“Perfect,” Magnus answered fondly. “That’s what.”

DISCLAIMER

This is a fun fic - don’t take it too seriously. No not all yoga is like this, not all tantric yoga is about sensuality or sexuality, but some of it is and that’s great too. Just...take it in the spirit it’s meant.

#malec #malec fic #Magnus Bane #Magnus and Alec #Alec and Magnus #Magnus x Alec #Alec Lightwood #alec lightwood bane #magnus lightwood bane

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lumau · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Irene (The Invisible Library), Kai (The Invisible Library), Peregrine Vale, catherine (the invisible library), Lord Silver (The Invisible Library), Li Ming (Invisible Library), Ao Shun (Invisible Library) Additional Tags: ilcharacterweek, Angst, Some Humor, Some Romance, all a bit trippy, but it'll make sense, potentially additional tags per chapter, minor spoilers for the dark archive and all other books Summary: 7 chapters, each focussing on one of the main / favorite characters (written for 2021 Invisible Library Character Appreciation Week)

Chapter 3 - Vale

additional safety notes for this chapter: contains reference to death / suicidal thoughts

╳

Vale’s cane tapped on the dark, polished floor as he strode briskly down the corridor.

This, he could feel it. This was it.

His usual instinct that helped him to meet the right people at the right time had never failed him, and he would trust it also in this case. While his whole system was on full alert, there was the smallest twitch in the corner of his lips. He quietly muttered to himself, as he briefly bent down to check the floor, before continuing onwards with even more determination.

“If my record were closed tonight I could still survey it with equanimity. Today I crown my career by the capture or extinction of the most dangerous and capable criminal in Europe.”

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but, as expected, the hall was empty. Very well. He had sent Strongrock to meet up with Winters, which should distract both of them sufficiently. This was one matter he had to face alone.

In front of him the corridor ended and opened into a vast space. Not only the ceiling lay hidden in complete darkness, but also the other sides of the wide room. It was impossible to make out how far the room stretched in any direction.

Vale stopped in his tracks and stood completely still, listening intently. He could not hear any noise by another living thing, but found that he could make out a vague rushing sound, like water running down a stream in the far distance. And still, he knew that he was not alone.

Ahead of him a narrow bridge stretched out over the darkness that lay below. There was only one way onwards.

Vale was perfectly calm when he pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. He set down his cane, leaning it against the wall of the corridor, and in his usual firm and clear manner, he wrote out a few lines, before cleanly ripping the sheet from the book and sticking it behind the cane’s handle.

My dear Winters, my dear Strongrock! I write these few lines through the courtesy of my adversary, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially to you.

However, my career had in any case reached its crisis, and no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this. I made every disposition of my property before leaving London, and handed it to my sister Columbine. Pray give my greetings to Inspector Singh, and believe me to be, my dear fellows,

Very sincerely yours, Vale

With one deep breath and not a moment's hesitation, Vale turned to face towards the narrow plank across the unfathomable chasm. As he began to walk, he could make out a shadow opposite him, the dark figure of a man, walking towards him at the same, steady pace.

Vale felt his heart pounding fast in his chest, but no sign of the thrill of anticipation passed through to the outside. There was the familiar weight of his revolver against the side of his leg. Without his cane it did give him something to focus on, a target for his senses, to keep them alert and focussed. He knew that if he only slipped for a second, it would be a lost game. Only fools underestimated their enemies, and while Vale was prepared to die, he would not do so without taking his with him.

The light was so low that he could still not make out more than the outlines of the man opposite him. The bridge was so narrow that neither of them would be able to evade the other.

"It is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's coat."

Vale startled for a second, as the voice rang out ahead of him, loud and clear, an echo in the vast chamber. He drew to a halt, the figure opposite mirroring his step. Vale smiled, and pulled out his revolver.

"You evidently don't know me," snarled the voice.

“On the contrary," Vale answered in a light tone, that gave none of his tension away. "I think it is fairly evident that I do. Pray, spare me the chatter. If you have anything to say, then do it now."

"All that I have to say has already crossed your mind."

“Then possibly my answer has crossed yours," Vale replied.

“You stand fast?”

“Absolutely."

The silence was cut by the faintest rustle of fabric, and with one swift motion, Vale raised his pistol, just as the other moved in the same manner, and pulled the trigger.

The shot was an explosion in the vast, empty room. Within the same moment Vale knew that something had gone wrong, even while the sudden, blinding light made it impossible for him to see. Then the fragments of broken glass came hurling towards him and he understood.

It was an instinctual move to dodge the bullet that had ricocheted from the mirror that sent his foot over the edge of the bridge. His weight tipped with nothing to grasp for, and he fell.

╳

“Strongrock?”

Vale stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the shattered glass and fragments of what looked like it had once been a chair that were strewn all across the floor. The figure kneeling crouched over in the middle of it all had nothing of the poise and energy he knew his friend to hold in almost any situation, but it was clearly him. With a critical glance around Vale quickly took in the scene. Just a moment ago he had woken slouched in a dark corridor without any recollection of how he got there. But as he followed the faint noises around the corner and was faced with this scenery, all his senses immediately sprang to high alert. He itched to investigate the rubble and this odd place. Yet, the dragon’s state seemed the most pressing issue for now.

“My dear fellow, are you alright?”

He went down on one knee next to him and touched a hand to his shaking shoulder. Kai flinched and looked up at him. His face was streaked with tears and ashen. Tiny cuts stood out dark against his deadly pale skin. Kai stared at him in shock with the expression of someone who had just seen a ghost, or believed he had. Vale frowned, clearly something had shaked his friend to the bones, and he knew this was not easily done.

“Vale? You… are you real?” His voice was hoarse and small, and Vale could hear the desperation in it. It met some part inside his chest with a stinging pain.

Vale swallowed down a lump in his throat, and gave the dragon’s arm a sympathetic squeeze.

“Quite, for all I can account for, I am very real.”

“I thought I had lost you,” Kai slumped forwards in a shudder of sobbs, clasping onto Vale’s arm.

Vale was taken aback by the outburst, wondering what might have inspired it. He put his hand on Kai’s heaving back. This was a moment where Winters would say something sympathetic and yet constructive, witty but kind. He on the other hand was rather out of his depth, and while he had faced many distraught clients and victims, they weren’t generally his friends as well.

It took him a moment to regain his composure. As Kai sat up, he looked more miserable than Vale had ever seen him, but his eyes had regained some of their sharpness now. He focussed on Vale, and there was something in his look that he had not seen there before.

“Vale, please forgive me. I don’t even know what I can say to express how sorry I am.”

“I can’t see what you should apologize for and what has upset you that much. Won’t you explain to me?” Vale asked softly.

Kai took a deep breath to steady himself and told Vale what had happened. His face drew into a pained expression as he told him of his struggle to free them, and his desparation as he simply couldn’t do anything. He averted his eyes, clearly fighting to find the words.

“I just had to do something. It was not as if I would not have tried to help you and Catherine as well. Please, Vale, you must believe me,” he pleaded.

Vale paused, thinking rapidly. This was all very curious. “You might have fallen victim to some sort of wicked illusion. Surely you must see that this is so, as I am right here, unharmed?”

Kai swallowed, then shook his head decisively. “But that is not the point,” his voice rose to an urgent tone that Vale had rarely heard from him, at least not directed at himself, “I betrayed you. How can you be so dismissive about this?”

Vale took a moment to consider.

“My dear Strongrock, had I been there, I would have implored you to save Winters. And it would have been the sensible thing, too, as her abilities might have enabled further action," he said calmly. "I would have expected nothing less of you. There is nothing to forgive.”

Kai stared at him, aghast, and Vale could see a whole array of emotions pass over his face. He was so obvious, still, and it was one of the things that made him such a fine person.

“Why do you have to be so utterly noble?” Kai grunted, but the strained expression on his face had softened somewhat. In a spontaneous gesture, Vale held his hand out for him. Kai took it, and then leaned forward to pull him into an embrace.

Vale was startled, but forced himself to not just hang in his arms boardlike. That was usually not an appropriate reaction. Instead he settled on returning the embrace, and for a moment, he thought he shared the others relief and allowed himself to relax a bit.

And then, the screams started outside.

╳

(with abbreviated quotes from The Adventure of the Final Problem by Arthur Conan Doyle)

#the invisible library #ilcharacterweek #peregrine vale #the angst prevails #theres finally some comfort too though #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide

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bxllafanficc · 4 years ago

Text

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(Part two)

Part two. Part one Part three Part four part five

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

There. All set and done. You took a last look at the pair of eyes staring back at you in the full body mirror. Your hair all dried up with a blowdrier and a pair of white jeans along with your favorite leather jacket. A grey turtleneck on that and that was the outfit for today. Keeping it classy since Victor failed to cancel the meeting with the press a couple of hours from now. 'A big hoodie would've been the ideal alternative though' you thought and sighed. Nowadays it's all about keeping it as simple yet kind of professional for every day. Social media were all star struck about the world's latest announcement. 'Winner of this year's Grand Prix senior division goes on a tour with none other than the (y/n) (l/n)!' The newspapers were first out as usual thanks to the reporters crowding her personal space since two weeks from now since the news came out. A collaboration between a figure skating competition and a competition for vocalists. You never saw that coming but you could see the appeal. The currently hottest male skater along with a popular female singer, fighting for the spotlight even though they're sharing it evenly. Him with his skills and she with her voice. You agreed to participating when asked, of course. It was a great opportunity and experience. And currently you sought out every great possibility at the market right now. That's what lead you here.

You made your way out the room you were staying in and headed towards the dining area in deep thoughts. 'So that's Yuri Plisetsky up close?' You thought as you passed the living room. You entered the dining area and stood still at the entrance to take in the scene before you. Yuri Plisetsky is sitting at the dining table with his back facing you. Beside him with his side profile turned at your direction is coach Yakov who's chatting with Victor and Yuuri opposite of the table. Yuri is not talking. He's busy eating a dish called the pork cutlet bowl, you assumed. You had never tried one before but the dish was all too familiar thanks to the last Grand Prix competition on Yuuri Katsuki's behalf. You eyed Yuri carefully and entered the room. He's a little shorter than what was given away on television but other than that, very much the boy you'd seen competing time to time. His skating was without doubt impressive to say the least. His jumps were always perfect as expected and his upper body movements in beat to the music. Though, you always deemed something missing in his already amazing performances. Expression. The year he won gold at the senior division, you saw some great scenes of emotion displayed in his skating but it was clear that he never let them consume him. It always looked as if there was something on his mind and that held him back, even made him stop and hesitate sometimes.

"Whoo! (Y/n) is back! Yuri! Meet your coach in musical expressional performance."

The boy's attention was suddenly entirely on you now, in comparison for being totally relaxed and unfocused. He tensed up and the pair of breathtakingly blue and green eyes widened at her for the second time today. 'Hope this is not becoming a regular habit of his' whenever he sees me. It's starting to get a little embarrassing.'

"You! What even- What are you doing here?! A-aren't you like 19 years old or something? That's just two years away from me! That's.. You're far too young to be my coach!" The startled reaction of his kind of made you wonder what was up. He did meet you just about- ah. Your face mask and your covered hair clearly disguised you well enough for the boy not to recognize you. Though he clearly knew you.

"Great, so you're familiar with me. Then I don't need a further introduction." You flashed him a smile.

"Who isn't familiar with the star of We Are Voice and winner of gold two years in a row? At this point, you're basically stealing the spotlight I fought so hard to gain at my senior division debut." The words came out in a mutter and the negative impact of the comment made you raise an eyebrow at the boy on the floor in front of you. He still hadn't stood up to greet you which would be the appropriate thing to do first time meeting your coach. Then you pouted and leaned your now crossed arms against the wall to your right.

"Though, I am a little disappointed you didn't recognize me by voice. I mean, if I am as famous as you speak of, you surely would've known right away." That just earned a scoff from him.

"There are thousands of girls who sound similar to you. Yes, even with that (nationality) accent. Your voice isn't that special." The other men in the room widened their eyes. Ouch. And he's just as grumpy and homeboy teenage-crisis as he was portrayed in television and social media as well. You had thought it was only mere acting in an attempt to shun people away and making the attraction towards him less appealing.

"I see... Well that's one way putting it."

It certainly worked on you, you had thought for several years now but turns out he's just a jerk. Yakov moved to get in Yuri's face and scold him.

"Where is your manners? Quit playing a brat all of a sudden."

"What? Am I not allowed to speak my mind now when you have to suck up to miss universe over here all of a sudden?"

You raised a silent hand for the arguing pair to let their words die down and then you locked gaze with the insolent boy. Your eyes were blank but rock hard and you could swear that you saw a faint gulp forming in his throat.

"Get on your feet and get over here. Turn sideways." At least I didn't have to ask twice. But I didn't really ask him either. He rose to his feet and took some hesitant steps towards me. It was clear that he didn't trust me. 'Something to work on' I hummed to myself. His posture was stiff and crooked but after another word from Yakov, he straighten his back for me to see him properly. He pulled the hood of his hoodie off and mirrored my blank hard stare. I began to circle him, getting a fair look on what I would be working with for a set of weeks. His eyes didn't dare follow mine as I stepped beside him, knowing that I was out for him to break character. A stale being is much harder getting to know than a forward and open one.

Then, when you were behind his back, you reached out with your hand to his back and - shoved him casually forwards. A yelp of surprise echoed through the room as he stumbled and fell towards Victor who caught him right before hitting the floor face first. You and Yakov locked gaze and gave each other a slight nod before you once again turned to the upset boy.

"What the hell was that? You pushed me for what? Are you that sensitive for a little negativity for once?"

"Your balance is off." You simply said with the same blank expression and a headshake. He seemed dumbfounded of the answer and got off Victor with quick feet. He was close to you this time and the daggers you received was intended to leave wounds after he was done.

"Because you pushed me."

"Exactly."

"I wasn't prepared!"

"Exactly."

"We have some work to do, Yuri. Your break has been too long, it seems. She was only picking up on where you left off, in a way." Yakov spoke up between the one-sided staring contest. The boy turned towards the man which included his back facing my front once again. But this time, he was careful on taking a few steps forward to avoid history repeating itself.

"She's not you. She shouldn't do your job. It's none of her business anyway."

"It actually is if you think harder on it. There's no point in me working on your emotional performance if your practical performance is flawed. A skater who can't manage a simple shove will not get up on his or hers feet at the competition as well." You expected some kind of backlash from Yuri, at least a glare or something. But you were met with nothing to your surprise. He didn't speak up either.

"It's settled. You and I will rehearse you back into your former shape before your time with (y/n) begins, starting tomorrow. Meanwhile, also take some time to get to know each other, you two. You seem to need it." Yakov declared the schedule and choose to pinpoint the obvious tension between you and Yuri. You somewhat agreed on spending time besides training. Though, you would rather not take a verbal beating more than once a day further on.

Yuri still didn't speak up but he didn't object either.

"(Y/n), there's food left for you too! Please join us for dinner." Yuuri Katsuki exclaimed and waved an energetic hand towards the bowls and plates on the table. In front of you, you saw the back muscles of the Russian skater's form tense at the words.

You had to decline though. If not for the meeting, then for the sake of giving Yuri some space. It must be hard, after all. Whatever's he's going through right now.

"I would love to! But I have to excuse myself this time. After all, I have a meeting to attend and if I don't get going, I'll soon be running late. See ya folks later!"

And with that, you dashed off.

#yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #yuriart #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri plisetsky #yurianime #anime fanfic #fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yuri on ice fanfiction

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basilrazzledazzle · 4 years ago

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Sugawara Kōshi x male!Reader

Truth or Dare - S. Kōshi

tw: internalized homophobia i guess?

word count: 1.6k

author's note: this is the first one shot i've written in over a year omg. it's also posted on my wattpad :)) i hope u enjoy it!! please like if you do

___

"Hm..." Daichi pursed his lips as he eyed Asahi from across the rough circle that had been made. The Karasuno boys were playing spin the bottle: truth or dare edition, in which you give the person who had the bottle land on them the option of truth or dare.

This was unfortunate for two reasons: no kissing the boys and no drinking.

You glanced between the two of them. Asahi looked downright terrified. He caught your eye and you grinned, shrugging as if you say, What can you do?

You were spread out in the Daichi's room, his parents already upstairs in bed. It was a team sleepover, and those were always fun.

"Aha!" said Daichi finally. "I have it -- Asahi, I dare you to wear wet socks until your next turn."

The look on your best friend's face seemed to be one of pure misery. "Are you serious?" asked Asahi.

The rest of the guys were laughing, including you. "Those are the rules, Asahi!" reminded Noya, sitting cross-legged on the end of Daichi's bed. Tanaka sat next to him, grinning.

"You can't break now, damn it!" he said. "Hinata, give him your water."

The ginger looked defensive, pouting as he sat on the floor. "What? Why my water?" he complained, but before he had the chance to hide his water bottle, Tsukishima had reached down from the bed and tossed the bottle to Tanaka.

Hinata looked up at him, scowling as he crossed his arms. "You'll do anything to spite me, won't you?" he grumbled. Tadashi grinned while Tsukki gazed at Hinata with only thinly veiled hostility.

You turned your attention back to Asahi as Ennoshita poured the water over his feet, trying his best to get soak the socks without getting it on the floor.

"That's cold!" Asahi yelped.

Laughing, you tried to remind him in a somewhat hushed tone, "Quiet now, don't wake up Daichi's parents." He glared at you.

Once his socks were wet enough for Daichi's liking, the bottle landed on Tanaka, who had to run a lap through the neighborhood with Noya on his back.(Personally, you thought that wasn't that bad for him -- it's something he would have done anyway.)

When they got back and the rest of you had reclaimed your spots after watching them from the window, Tanaka spun the bottle.

It landed in you.

"Oh-ho-ho!" Tanaka exclaimed. "[Y/N]! This'll be good!"

You weren't convinced.

You glanced over at Asahi, but the expression he had on his face basically just read payback.

"Truth or dare?" Tanaka asked, leaning forward.

"Uhh." You thought about the past dares: the wet socks, Tanaka and Noya's piggyback ride through the neighborhood, Hinata having to eat half a cup of ketchup, and decided you'd take what you thought to be the safer route.

"Truth," you decided.

Noya made a face. "Oh, well that's no fun."

"Yeah," agreed Tanaka. "Now I actually have to think about it."

You and a couple of the others laughed. He sat there for a moment before going, "Oh! Okay, I have one." He paused, for what you assumed to be dramatic affect.

"Who do you like?"

Oh shit.

You looked over at Asahi, and he seemed to sense the panic you were hiding.

Of course, the answer to the question was the stupid boy who had to be sitting right next to you.

Fucking Suga, with his stupid smile and unfortunately perfect hair, and eyes that you could gaze into for hours on end-

"Uh, hello?" Tanaka said, interrupting the gay crisis you are having. "Earth to [Y/N]?"

You glanced around the room. All the quiet side conversations seemed to have stopped, and all that could be heard was the quiet music playing from somebody's phone.

"I don't know," you said. "There aren't really any girls at Karasuno that I find attractive." Which, technically, was true.

"Really?" quipped the boy beside you. "So you've never had a crush?"

Shit.

You looked over at Suga, who was already in his night clothes -- pajama pants and a white t-shirt that was just thin and tight enough that you could the the outline of his collarbone through it.

"Uh, well, I guess not," you lied, looking away quickly. A slew of cursed ran through your head, most of them aimed at Tanaka.

"Oh, come on, that can't be true," Nishinoya claimed. "You've never even looked at a girl and thought she was cute?!"

You rubbed the back of your neck as you felt your face heat up. You tried to to make contact with any of the prying eyes. "Uh, nah, I guess not," you replied, trying to play things off cool.

"Huh," said Noya, slumping. "Well that's just sad."

You laughed awkwardly, trying not to look at anyone directly, especially Suga, even though you could feel the setter's eyes on you. Hell, even Tadashi and Tsukishima were paying attention.

"Anyway!" said Asahi. "Who's next?"

Thank god for best friends.

___

A couple of turns later, you mumbled something about using the bathroom and quietly slipped out of the room. Your face was still warm as your feet pattered down the hall.

As the game had continued, you couldn't help but glance over at Suga occasionally. The last time, you had accidentally made eye contact, so you abruptly tried to focus your gaze on anything but him.

You flicked the lights on in the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. Cold water ran over your hands as you turned on the faucet, splashing water over your arms and face. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" you whispered, smacking yourself on the head.

You sat on the marble counter, cross-legged, your head in your hands, tears silently falling down your face. God, why couldn't you just be normal?

Suddenly, there was a gentle tapping on the door, and you jumped. Shit, you though, rapidly wiping your eyes. "Uhm, just a minute!"

"I'm coming in," said the voice quietly. Your heart stopped when you recognized it.

Before you even had time to get off the counter, Suga had cracked the door open.

"Hey." He smiled softly at first, but his face nearly immediately turned into one of confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," you said, though you could feel your face heating up. You didn't make eye contact with the silver haired boy as he took a seat across from you on the other side of the counter, the sink separating you.

"I'm fucking pathetic," you said after a minute had passed with neither of you being vocal.

Scowling, Suga swatted your leg. "Don't say that. The Karasuno team wouldn't be what it is without you. You're always there, boosting the team's morale."

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "That's not what I meant, Suga." You sighed. You had already absolute humiliated yourself, what more did you have to lose?

"When Tanaka asked me whatever, and I said I hadn't ever liked any of the girls... That wasn't a lie," you admitted, not looking at the boy next to you. You could practically hear your heart beating.

"Well, I would hope that wasn't a lie, the game is called truth or dare," Suga joked.

You halfway glared at him. "Ah," he said. "Serious moment. Continue."

"The truth is.. I don't really like girls? I never have."

"Well," he said. "I mean, there's plenty of girls outside of Karasuno if they don't do it for you-"

"Suga, I'm gay."

You looked over at him. He seemed somewhat stunned. A slew of cursed ran through your head. You refused to look at him; your face must have been beet red at this point.

"Oh," he said finally. Then added in a more cheerful tone. "Me too! Well, sort of? I think. I mean, I like guys, but I think I like girls as well."

"Really?" you asked, looking up at him. "I never knew."

He shrugged. "You never asked."

The two of you sat there for a moment. "In fact, there's this one guy I've liked for a really long time," he told you, idly twiddling his fingers.

Damn, you thought, your chest physically hurting. But what you said was, "Really? Cool."

He continued, a slight smiled on his face. "Yeah. He's really sweet to me, a great friend. I've known him for years. He makes the funniest jokes, and you can rely on him to boost morale."

You tried not to show any emotions on your face. "Huh. Sounds like a great guy, Suga. I hope things go well with you and him."

Then, he started laughing. Which was absolutely the last thing you had expected from him in a conversation like this. His put his head in his hands.

"Suga..?" you questioned. He looked up at you.

"I'm talking about you, dumbass!" he exclaimed.

Oh.

You looked at him, his big hazel eyes wide. "Are you serious?" He nodded, a nervous smile on his face. "I've been losing my shit over you for the months! I've had the biggest crush on you since-"

You were cut off as Suga suddenly leaned forward, his lips pressing on to yours.

You scooted closer, as best as you could without falling into the sink or off of the counter, your hand making it's way to the back of Suga's head. His soft hair was entangled in your hands.

Looking back on it, you had no clue how long you were like that, the two of you pressed against each other, but by the end you were absolutely star struck.

When you pulled away, you felt almost like there was electricity running through your veins, shaking you to your very core.

"So," you said after a moment's silence. "What now?"

Suga laughed. "Right now," he said, sliding off the counter. "Let's get snacks. The guys are starving." He held out a hand, and you took it, following him.

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tortoisesshells · 4 years ago

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Character ask: give us your best Henry Hopkins apology ;)

ooh, there’s a callout I haven’t got in a while. :D

Why I like them: One repressed Yankee recognizes another. /s

Because while Henry Hopkins comes off as a quiet, kind man, who has zero hang-ups about crying in front of people he barely knows, scrubbing bedpans, and spilling his darkest secrets because they might help someone else do better than him, he’s got a baseline of anger that he doesn’t know what to do with and is genuinely dangerous, because (I presume) he’s spent so much time ignoring it that he has no idea how to act when he can’t, anymore.

Also, he shuts down a Confederate preacher in the middle of that man’s sermon. That was neat.

Why I don’t: You’d think it’d be the anger issues, but no: Staunch abolitionist falls as-over-teakettle in love with a pretty, slowly-reforming Confederate belle at nearly first sight. Emma’s politics change significantly when she has exposure to the rest of the world, thank goodness, but ffs Henry did you leave your principles in Williamstown

Favorite Episode: Toss-up between 1x03/“The Uniform” and 1x05/”The Dead Room”. This blog is a Henry-Hopkins-Is-Great-At-His-Job-And-Terrible-With-His-Own-Emotions-And-Faith concern.

Favorite Season: S2, because as much as I love the aforementioned episodes, S2 gave me: Henry looking like he’s going to faint at the blood transfusion, playing the straight man to Jed and Hale’s fairly manic exploits to treat Corporal DeBrier(sp?), his somewhat-inappropriate joy that Emma trusts him enough to ask him for help telling a dying man he’s going to die, the previously mentioned theological throw-down, and the abbreviated crisis of faith arc, which could have been great. Alas.

Favorite Line: I really want to say any of his very serious lines about morality or his past, but “Making the steward a hero, of sorts. An irony even God might smile at.” (& his look of complete bafflement at what was the higher power was thinking, making Bullen the man to accidentally save President Lincoln) does have a special place in my heart.

Favorite Outfit: Does he own more than the one suit? Even Jed gets a different waistcoat every episode. All poor Henry gets is an apron of varying cleanliness every once in a while.

OTP: Henry/Emma, but also Henry/Therapy in a much more pressing way.

BrOTP: We never got Henry interacting significantly with Mary again after 1x01 because the team-up would be too powerful, too unstoppable. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Thank goodness for fanon!

Canonically, Henry is an excellent foil for Jed’s exuberance and seemingly wild ideas, and I appreciate both that they work well, when they do, and they both seem to benefit from each other’s presence.

Headcanon: In his rather sprawling family, Henry feels a little lost and unspectacular, compared to his University-president father (and uncle the astronomy professor), his siblings who have sparkling careers, families, settled lives. To say nothing of his great-something-uncle Samuel Hopkins who studied with Jonathan “Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God” Edwards and was one of the leading lights (ha.) of the New Divinity movement following the First Great Awakening.

Unpopular Opinion: I don’t think I have one?

A Wish: That we’d gotten S3 (and S4, etc.) & his crisis of faith arc wasn’t so rushed or abbreviated.

An oh-god-please-don’t-ever-happen: I suppose (modeling off your answer, @sagiow!) that if we ever get a wrap-up movie (or comic, etc.) I actually wouldn’t mind if he left Mansion House, following his conviction that he’s not doing enough at the Hospital, but I would personally be devastated if that meant he gets killed in battle (or, more likely, dies of dysentery).

Five Words to Best Describe Them: Contradictory, Angry, Principled, Empathetic, A Mess ™

My Nickname For Them: I don’t have anything for him, specifically, but my tag for any Henry/Emma content for a while was “Charming and Photogenic Idiots”?

#thanks for the ask dear!!#polkaknox talks #brother can you spare an ask?#and for old time's sake:#oh my god just call me the resident HH apologist already

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 5 years ago

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You Asked, I Told

(Note, if this post shows up twice or massively delayed or just looks weird, it’s because it was flagged for adult content [??!] because I had a picture of Willem Dafoe’s face in a gif. I am not even kidding. Do with that information what you will. I’ve removed it and I still don’t know if/when this can be publicly viewed, I’m kind of lolling. So if you see a blocked out photo that looks like porn in your post, I swear it’s just a gif from The Lighthouse!)

Hello, amazing people. This weekend, I’m putting the final touches on my last draft of Baghdad Waltz Chapter 39, which will then go to the beta for one more round of edits. I imagine I will have the chapter posted in 1-3 weeks, which is close to record speed for me, especially since it’s around 30k words. I’m going to be talking about my writing process (at unfortunate length) for one of the asks, for those who are interested.

Please forgive me. I’m feeling quite verbose and a little squirrely. I blame living alone during lockdown.

It’s also Memorial Day weekend in the States, which is when we are meant to honor those who gave their lives in military service to this country. This is often confused with Veterans Day (November 11), which is honoring anyone who has served in the military and is no longer serving. This gets further confused with Armed Forces Day (rotating date, May) which is to honor those currently serving in the military. I know, super confusing.

There’s a wide range of opinions on how Memorial Day should be commemorated, which often involves gathering with friends and family for a barbecue or some other social activity. It’s the first major holiday after a huge holiday drought throughout the late winter and spring, which often makes people look forward to it immensely. Some people feel it’s inappropriate to celebrate Memorial Day with barbecues and fond social gatherings because it’s dishonoring the memories of those who can’t be here, people don’t take time to remember those who have died, people have no idea what the day is actually for, etc. Others, even some very vocal veterans, maintain that people died so that we could be here to celebrate in freedom, so why not relish this life we have? Many offer the caveat that it’s appropriate to at least acknowledge the purpose of the day, even if it’s just in a few minutes of quiet reflection.

Anyway, I offer this as a little food for thought for this upcoming long weekend.

(And in case you missed it, I posted a BW Timeline for your reference.)

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

I’m so glad that you are enjoying the read and that you’re finding it inspiring for your own work. I think my dedication to research for BW is threefold. 1) As this story evolved, I decided that I wanted to create the most realistic depictions of military, civilian, emotional, and physical life that I reasonably could. I will fully admit to lapses in this, deliberate and unintentional, because sometimes the plot just needs to go and I can’t wait around for a year-long medical discharge process for my character. 2) I’m in an academically stringent occupation, and because research is such a prominent part of my work life, it’s bled to my hobby. (IS THIS EVEN A HOBBY ANYMORE?) And 3) I get very easily and passionately obsessed with things and delight in getting “into the weeds” with a subject. Almost every research divergence usually takes me off track for at least an hour. And you will never catch me without an MTA subway map open in at least one tab.

But that wasn’t even your question! Sorry. Are you beginning to get a sense of why BW takes me so long to write?? I cannot keep my shit on track. As for the bibliography, YES! I plan to include that in my author’s note at the end. I wish I had kept better track of all of my works consulted over the past three years, but I will definitely discuss the importance of some of the main ones. I’m so thrilled that you are interested, and I’m excited to share them!

Thank you. This is such a kind thing to say, and I’m humbled and delighted to hear it, especially because our fandom is so blessed with some AMAZING fics. And asks certainly don’t have to be questions! I appreciate them all (except the flaming bag of dog shit ones, which I haven’t had in a while, hooray).

(Re: Chapter 37) Good question! I imagine Claire would want to keep the 1:1 conversation somewhat limited, as she is treating the couple as a patient rather than them as individuals. If anything, she might have somewhat superficially checked in to see if he was okay rather than dive into anything regarding the relationship with Bucky not around. That could be seen as a betrayal of trust to Bucky and could be interpreted as favoritism, which Steve craves and which Bucky is probably terrified about.

I am always pleased when people re-read and enjoy it or get new things out of it, even if it’s sometimes a re-read is a function of my slow-ass writing. I really want a story with good re-read value.

You make an excellent point about Bucky’s relationships. His friendship with Jack also had no real closure. Sometimes this is a factor of circumstance and sometimes it’s because of his avoidance, like a self-fulfilling prophesy almost. He’s learned that people betray you, either by hurting you or dying, so he creates conditions sometimes (often unwittingly) for things to go sour and end poorly, or he will simply make himself disappear so that he’s not hurt and doesn’t have to wait to see if he will be abandoned or betrayed. He’s not a guy who is good with goodbyes.

As for Thor, I totally see how it would read that way. I think Thor started out fishing for longer-term possibilities in a romantic relationship but then realized Bucky is really not a guy who is comfortable settling (which, as we can see, is true). As for why it seems more serious, one thing is that Thor still wanted Bucky in his life as a friend, possibly one with benefits. They have a lot in common, and it’s hard for veterans - and, more specifically, special operators - to find people in their lives they can relate to with these very intense life experiences. I wanted this to be a real relationship, but maybe not necessarily one that was bound to become a RELATIONSHIP. I think Bucky was very intriguing and attractive to him, and he very well may have struggled with his own vacillation between whether to take it seriously or whether to remain friends+. This can lead to mixed messages.

And we also have to remember Bucky’s notoriously unreliable narration, where he will see what he wants to see. Our perspective comes from him. We see the details he zooms in on, miss the one he ignores, view the relationship through the lens of his own contentious desire for a real relationship, even as he consistently demonstrates the lack of capacity and his fear about getting serious. I imagine Bucky has having an extremely poor ability to distinguish friendship from romance, and why wouldn’t he, given the most recent bit of history we have learned about him with Jack? He’s had a series of friendships become sexualized, and I think this affects his capacity to be discerning. Bucky’s radar for relating, whether friendships, romance, or potentially dangerous sexual situations, is terribly mis-calibrated. How confusing for him and for the people in his life. Of course, everyone is free to interpret the dynamics of any relationship however they choose. These are just some of my thoughts.

I really appreciate observations from the re-read! Thank you!

I watched the video and you are right! This is definitely a Bucky song. Bucky’s sense of self is by turns profoundly distorted and lacking in grounding, especially now that he’s not in the military. He’s been in a low key existential crisis since he was a kid and has turned to drinking and sex and war to fill this horrible void, and although I can’t speak for what the artists here intended, I certainly sensed those elements here for sure. (Also, what an interesting choice for a music video…)

Thank you for sharing! I’ll add it to the unofficial BW playlist in the author’s note, which consists of various songs people have associated with BW and shared with me.

Good question! I started off this story picturing the actors who represent the characters in the MCU, because I figured we’d be picturing that when we read the fic anyway (though my beta told me she doesn’t see them as the actors, more like artists’ renderings of the characters, which I find interesting). So when describing their physicality, I tend to refer back to the MCU, since this is technically an MCU AU. But the longer I go with the story, the murkier the resemblance feels to me, especially when I think about Bucky, IDK why. I have also been considering doing something more with BW after I finish it (i.e., converting it into a proper not-bajillion-word novel, sunk cost and whatnot), in which case I would definitely change the characters’ appearance, names, cut MCU Easter eggs, etc. So when I try to think of who these people might be in future iterations of the story, things get even more blurred in my mind when I imagine them.

I wonder how other people see them??

So, with regards to PTSD clinical teams, there is some variation across VAs in the system. Some focus more on military-related trauma, whether it’s war, military sexual trauma, accidents, etc. as a way of concentrating their services and managing supply and demand. From talking with providers in these kinds of systems, sometimes you just NEED a military-related trauma, but you can be treated for, say, a childhood trauma if it’s more pressing. Other VAs are very open in their criteria, and you can see them for pretty much any kind of trauma that qualifies diagnostically for PTSD (or sub-threshold PTSD) without question. That’s why I love the expression “If you’ve been to one VA, you’ve been to one VA.” That said, it kind of doesn’t matter what kind of PTSD clinical team is at the VA in Manhattan, because Bucky has so much military trauma that he would very likely qualify to receive services in any PTSD clinical team. They just might focus on childhood stuff (if Bucky actually let them, which is another matter entirely).

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

I love a snarky asshole Bucky so much, and I’ve tried to temper this version of him with enough hard-earned genuineness to offset it a little bit. It’s such a tender balance with him, because if you back him too far into a corner, he’s going to let you have it. But if you give him too much space, it’s hard to pin him down and wring something honest from him. He’s definitely learned to use humor and sarcasm to deflect from painful or uncomfortable situations, and it’s a very adaptive short-term strategy that makes him both endearing and infuriating to others.

But ugh, yeah, shit gets so rough around Chapter 28/29. I don’t know how to feel when people have really strong emotional reactions to this story, because one part of me doesn’t want to contribute to the crappy feelings people may already be struggling with — especially in the times of COVID — but I don’t want to be afraid to dive into the hurt these characters are experiencing. That’s why I recommend checking in with oneself before reading to get a sense of how much emotional bandwidth is available to manage the immense problems of two people struggling so much. I also think that for some people it can be cathartic or otherwise not-bad maybe (?), based on the feedback I’ve received. I also really try hard to balance out the painful stuff with growth, even though it can be terribly difficult to locate sometimes.

In comments to folks, and here, I often talk about adjusting the ticks on your measuring stick for progress, where instead of leaps of progress over feet/meters, we may be observing things on an inch/mm scale. This story is my most sincere effort at a “recovery is not linear” narrative, which I think is so much more reflective of real life for a lot of folks than a straight upward trajectory. Humans are such creatures of habit, and the lessons these characters have learned through their lives about themselves, trust, relationships, and how to manage emotions are very deeply ingrained — often through traumatic means. These are the lessons learned the hardest, with the greatest perceived consequences for change, and it takes real courage for us to be able to try new things even once, let alone to establish a reliable pattern of behavior. This can lead to a lot of frustration for us as readers/writer, and I come from a place of this being okay, because we are encountering a parallel process with the characters, who are frustrated with each other and themselves about the same things. I do hope the pain/progress/joy ratios are not horribly out of whack most of the time. That’s another reason I like long chapters, because if this was just blips of sometimes terrible episodes in shorter form, I think it would be very challenging to not lose hope entirely.

But I’m so glad you’re finding the read meaningful, even if it’s sometimes painful and difficult.

(YES.)

And FINALLY -- (this is all soooo long, I’m so sorry.)

Oh, thank you for this question! My spreadsheet ended up getting too difficult to manage, and I actually had a small crisis six months ago about how the fic was going to end, because it just didn’t feel right. I had to scrap it and go back to the drawing board and really ask myself - what would these characters really do? Naturally, as a factor of their psychologies and circumstances, how will they bring this story to an end? Some advice I once heard about a “satisfying” ending is that it’s the place where there’s simply nothing more to say about the characters. There’s no more story to tell. I had to abandon all of my desires and ideas for a particular ending or concerns about making people sad or happy or excited or disappointed. I know that the only ending that will be satisfying is one that makes sense for these people. Anything contrived or backward-engineer-y wouldn’t feel right to anyone. I do have a couple of specific character arc things I want to happen, so I set those down as touchstones and said, okay, what would happen next? What would Steve do with this? And what would Bucky do with this? And what would they do with the thing the other person did? I take a very psychology and prior-behavior-based approach to plotting, almost all character driven. The rest is just figuring out what is supposed to go where and how to organize it.

I’ve converted everything to a Google Doc and have a very basic outline where I write plotty-plot stuff. I also have a “garbage dump” doc where I write certain lines I want to use or certain details I want to include somewhere. When I get into a new chapter, I’ll check the dump doc as I outline and write to see if I want to pluck anything from there. I have my outline open regularly to add to it. Sometimes I write scenes out of order, dialogue first, but that’s only if I really am excited about a particular scene and cannot contain myself. Otherwise, I write completely chronologically and have no buffer. I post things as soon as I write them.

As for your specific questions, I do have a “process” for getting into my characters’ heads. It helps to know them so very well and to have a firm sense of their idiosyncrasies and patterns of behavior. As you may have noticed, they repeat their patterns all. the. time, as humans do, but I also want to have them change their behaviors a little as things go and they progress. So I may wonder what they could do a little differently, why they would WANT to behave differently, and imagine what they would need to do to change their behavior. Do they need to take breaths? Do they remember the last time some shit went down? I really try to think of the “how” and “why” of every single action - from big blowouts to eye rolls.

So once I’ve figured out what they are going to do, I try to pinpoint the associated emotions I want to highlight. This is a whole separate process, because I have to think also about their internal versus their external emotional states. Steve, for example, will often have a discrepant inside and outside, because one of the truths about his character is that he is a chronic suppressor. There is also the issue of unreliable narration and interpretation of behavior. Steve might do something in a scene, but that doesn’t mean Bucky is going to interpret it the way it was intended. I have to think about their individual filters, which often reflect their internal beliefs about themselves. Bucky is more likely to read Steve’s actions as reflections of how BUCKY feels about HIMSELF (e.g., he’s disgusted by me because I’m disgusting) rather than imagine what Steve is really thinking based on his own experiences and beliefs about Bucky. I also attempt to convey some of the more second and third layer emotions that people have in situations, rather than only highlighting the primary emotion. Sad things don’t always just make people sad. Powerful emotions, for example, might make Steve feel out of control of himself, which could generate secondary emotions for him like frustration because he’s losing control. Part of the process in the construction of the narrative is also scrubbing what I’ve written for POV, because Bucky’s word choices aren’t the same as Steve’s, and in order to try to preserve the “voice” of each character, I often have to change the words I’ve opted to use, as well as the syntax.

So, as you can see, there’s a lot of layering that is happening all the time. As for the dialogue, I have no compunction about saying the lines aloud, “acting” them to see how they sound, to get a sense of what tone I want them to say things in. Now that I think of it, I do a bit of movement-based stuff, thinking about how people sit and stand, figuring how many steps it takes to get from A-Z, what it would look like to lean against something, how it would feel on the body, etc. I try to get the most felt sense of things as I can. If I’m imagining a scene, I try to put myself in the shoes of the characters to the point where I feel the emotions, just so I can know how it reflects in my body and my mind and behavior. I have more than once gotten drunk and drunk-written drunk Bucky then gone to clean it up later, as drunk writing can generate some great content I never would have been able to come up with sober, but the form, grammar, spelling, etc. is often rubbish. I also talk a LOT to my beta about all of this stuff, and I have certain friends and acquaintances in the fandom who are my consultants for various things.

So, I’m somewhat method I guess?? Is that a thing?? I dunno. It’s not hard to do when you live and breathe a story. It’s required a deep level of interest in - quite possibly an obsession with - the characters and their lives. I adore my characters, not in a self-congratulatory way, but because they feel so real to me. So it’s a joy to plan and write -- though I do hate first drafts with a passion.

OH - I also sometimes fast-draft chapters, which I did for 39. That is, write as FAST AS YOU CAN with no regard for how shitty the writing is. I wrote 10k words in a week, which was a finished fast-draft for me, and thus I had a very good felt sense of what was going to happen in the chapter, which felt amazing. It requires intensive outlining before, and nearly every word had to be rewritten, but one of the greatest frustrations of a story for me is having blank space ahead. Re-writing is way more fun than first draft writing. I have fluffed it up twofold with higher quality content, which I did all in less than two months…!!

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

Well, this is surely my most unnecessarily yammering YAIT in history. But I hope it at least conveys my enthusiasm for these wonderful asks! It’s so lovely to hear from all of you, even if I take an eon to get back to you. Hang in there, everyone!

@grimshady @hutchhitched @b0n3l3ssm1lk

(And thank you to @bae-buckyaboveeverything for the shout out. You made my day<3)

#you asked #baghdad waltz #asks

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Best Games of 2020

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Despite how almost every other aspect of the year went, 2020 was a landmark year for video games. Not only did it see the release of highly-anticipated titles like The Last of Us Part II, Animal Crossing: New Horizons, Ghost of Tsushima, and Cyberpunk 2077, but 2020 also marked the beginning of a new generation of console and PC gaming with the release of the Xbox Series X/S, PlayStation 5, and new GPUs from NVIDIA and AMD. We even got a new Half-Life game this year!

What would’ve made the gaming year ever better? Big-name video game companies could have done more to eliminate development crunch and be more transparent about their business practices with customers and the press. And we definitely could have all been nicer to each other.

But video games also helped keep us connected when we couldn’t see our friends and loved ones in person. They helped us travel to new and interesting places when we couldn’t leave our homes. Most importantly, all 20 games on our best-of-the-year list made us feel excited about this medium at a time when it was so difficult to enjoy anything else.

To that affect, Den of Geek is celebrating 20 video games our contributors and critics, as well as our community of readers, voted as the very best of 2020.

20. Star Wars: Squadrons

For the last decade or so, most Star Wars games have focused on the power fantasy of being a lightsaber-swinging, Force-wielding Jedi. That’s all well and good, but for a long time it seemed like everyone forgot that some of the most beloved Star Wars games of all time were actually space shooters like X-Wing vs. TIE Fighter and Rogue Squadron. In many ways, Star Wars: Squadrons is a throwback to those games, both in terms of gameplay and design. Controls are a pitch perfect mix of arcade simplicity and strategy, requiring quick thinking about whether to focus your ship’s power on attacking or defending.

Squadrons is also much more tightly focused than other recent games from large publishers, with a breezy yet enjoyable single-player campaign, and a multiplayer mode that, while light on modes, eschews the more annoying modern conventions of the online PvP like invasive microtransactions. But Squadrons is not stuck in its old school ways.

If you have the hardware for it on PC or PS4, you can jump into the cockpit of any of the playable ships for one one of the most immersive VR modes around. Similar to how The Mandalorian has rejuvenated the live-action side of the Star Wars media empire, Squadrons is a perfect mix of all of the best things we’ve always loved about Star Wars video games, and everything we want them to be going forward. – CF

19. Journey to the Savage Planet

Science fiction writers have long held on to this idea that, if and when humankind eventually colonizes the universe, it will do so as some sort of united, utopian entity, like Starfleet. But that future seems less and less likely every day. If and when humanity spreads across the stars, it will likely be messy, absurd, and profit-motivated. Journey to the Savage Planet wallows in that type of future. As an unnamed human (or dog, if you choose), you’re dropped onto the planet AR-Y26 by Kindred, the fourth biggest intergalactic exploration company with the simple goal of collecting as many resources as possible and leaving.

The Metroidvania gameplay loop of crafting equipment to access new areas is compelling, a rarity for 3D games in the genre. And it offers plenty of surprises too. You’ll start off with the typical blaster and scanner before eventually unlocking a grappling hook that lets you swing around levels like Spider-Man. But it’s style that ultimately lifts Journey to the Savage Planet above so many other games released in 2020. For one thing, the world and the fauna you’ll encounter are incredibly unique, and well, alien. And the regular live-action updates from Kindred beamed directly to your ship are among some of the funniest and most bizarre cinematics out this year in any game, providing plenty of motivation to see this journey through to its end. – CF

18. Half-Life: Alyx

As VR gaming continues to evolve, it’s becoming clear that the technology is more than just one truly great game away from widespread adoption. If that were all it took, then Half-Life: Alyx would have put a VR set under a lot of Christmas trees.

It’s truly wild to think that we got a new Half-Life game this year and that it sometimes feels like the game’s release was barely a blip on the cultural radar. While its somewhat muted debut can be attributed to its VR exclusivity (and the fact it launched at the onset of a global health crisis), Half-Life: Alyx surpassed all possible hype by offering a truly incredibly narrative-driven adventure bolstered by some of the cleverest uses of VR technology that we’ve ever seen.

Half-Life: Alyx isn’t the first great VR game, but Valve’s glorious return to form does shows how VR can advance fundamental elements of gameplay and storytelling rather than just show familiar games from a new perspective. – MB

17. Carrion

The indie game space is where you typically see the most experimentation, and this year proved no different when the gruesome and morbid Carrion released back in July. Highly inspired by the likes of John Carpenter’s The Thing, Alien, and other cult classic horror films known for their excellent use of practical SFX, this platformer cleverly flips the script, putting you in the role of the monster to dispatch helpless scientists in the claustrophobic depths of an underground lab as an ever-growing amorphous blob creature. What follows is a brief but effective 2D platformer that is fast paced and delectably gory.

The controls could have made controlling the creature a real pain, but Phobia Game Studio recognized that the key here was letting you move swiftly through the levels. As such, gliding through vents to take down scientists from above or underneath quickly becomes second nature. Encounters still pose a good degree of challenge, however, thanks to the heavily armed soldiers that show up later in the game, but this never stops Carrion from fulfilling every horror aficionado’s devilish fantasy of being the bloodthirsty monster. – AP

16. Kentucky Route Zero

Calling Kentucky Route Zero an homage to classic point-and-click adventure games is technically correct, but it doesn’t come close to doing the experience justice. Kentucky Route Zero is more like a poem or fable in video game form. It’s a feeling, a distillation of what it’s like to come of age in the Great Recession and its fallout over the last decade. Kentucky Route Zero is an epithet for rural America told through a fever dream, an examination of a version of rural Appalachia where talking skeletons and robotic musicians live alongside gas station attendants and truck drivers.

Nothing about Kentucky Route Zero fits the typical confines of what we expect from a video game, and that includes its release. Developed by a team of only three, the first episode of the five-episode experience was released in 2013, but the final product was only realized in early 2020. That lengthy development cycle meant that the game’s scope and story could grow to only better encapsulate this moment in time, and the final product stands out as one of best games of the year. To say more is to spoil its excellent story. – CF

15. Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1+2

Though it’s been a hot minute since skateboarding games dominated the console space, Vicarious Visions’ excellent remake collection of the first two Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater titles was a reminder of how the entire series captured a whole generation of players in the late ’90s and early ’00s. Whether it’s grinding down rails, performing kickflips, or landing the gravity-defying 1080 on a vert ramp, everything in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1+2 feels and looks exactly as you remember it but touched up with modern flare. That’s the mark of any great remake, and why this game in particular was the best example of the practice this year.

Classic skating locations like Warehouse, School and Downtown have all been faithfully remade from the ground up for a 21st century audience, effortlessly delivering the same thrills and balanced challenge as they did before. The fact that select mechanical features like reverts, which wouldn’t arrive until later entries, have been retroactively added is also a nice touch, instantly making Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1+2 the definitive way to experience these skateboarding classics. – AP

14. Ori and the Will of the Wisps

The fact that Ori and the Will of the Wisps managed to usurp the critically acclaimed 2015 original in most design aspects speaks to just how well Moon Studios has mastered the art of the Metroidvania. Whisking players off on another tight 10-hour journey set within a mystical forest full of secrets to discover, this 2D adventure gives off a fantastical vibe in a way few others do. It’s an expert blend between smart combat mechanics, highly polished platforming, and emotional storytelling. That it runs at a silky 60 fps both on Nintendo Switch and Xbox is the cherry on top.

The major improvements Will of the Wisps makes over Blind Forest relate to saving and combat. Whereas previously it was the responsibility of players to lay down specific checkpoints, progress is now more in line with other 2D platformers and less punishing. Combat, meanwhile, has been completely revamped with the inclusion of special charms and upgradeable skills, most of which result in more flexible enemy encounters. These tweaks are implemented without ever compromising on Ori’s core hook of magical exploration and challenging platforming, instantly making it one of the best Metroidvanias out there. – AP

13. Call of Duty: Warzone

Call of Duty: Warzone was a natural and perhaps even necessary evolution for the long-running shooter franchise, carving out a space for it in the ever-crowding battle royale genre. While it’s largely derivative of battle royale titles that came before, the staggering 150-player count, always excellent CoD controls, top-notch presentation, and flexible cash system have made it eminently popular and fun for casual players and series vets alike. The CoD fan base feels vibrant again after years of stagnation in the shadow of breakout titles like PUBG and Fortnite, and that’s without going into how Warzone has revitalized the franchise’s presence in the streaming space.

One of the best facets of the game’s design is that the large player count all but ensures that, even if a player is new to the genre or series, the chances of them being the absolute worst player in the field is very low. Better still, the “Gulag” respawn mechanic opens up the possibility for ultimate revenge should you earn your way back into the match, which is a nice way to up engagement for those who suffer disappointing deaths.

The game doesn’t feel quite as dynamic or high-stakes as some of its competitors on the market, but it’s definitely one of the easiest to pick up and play. It’s no wonder Warzone has expanded CoD’s already enormous audience over the course of 2020. – BB

12. Astro’s Playroom

With launch lineups mostly filled with graphically enhanced releases of last-gen games, the release of the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X has been more than a little underwhelming. The one bright spot is Astro’s Playroom, a little first-party Sony game that received virtually no pre-release hype and comes pre-installed on every PS5.

While at first glance a typical 3D platformer, Astro’s Playroom soon reveals itself to be a fantastic showcase of what’s possible with the new DualSense controller. In one level, you’re feeling the resistance from the controller’s adaptive triggers as you spring jump through obstacles dressed as a frog. In another, you’re expertly moving the controller back and forth to climb walls in a robotic monkey suit. Even just standing in the rain causes the controller to pulse ever so slightly with each drop. And all of this takes place across worlds celebrating the entire history of PlayStation, where you collect classic consoles and accessories, culminating in an unexpected boss battle throwback to an original PSX tech demo.

Astro’s Playroom may be short, but it’s an oh so sweet and exciting taste of what’s possible with the power of next-gen consoles. – CF

11. Doom Eternal

It would have been easy for Doom Eternal to be more of the same. After all, 2016’s Doom became the surprising gold-standard for single-player FPS games by virtue of its clever writing and gameplay that blended the best of classic and modern design concepts. Yet, Doom Eternal proved to be something much more than “the same but bigger.”

With its arena-like levels and resource management mechanics, Doom Eternal sometimes feels like a puzzle game set in the Doom universe. While the transition to this new style can be jarring, you soon find that Doom Eternal is speaking the same language in a different dialect. The brutal brilliance of a classic Doom game remains but it’s presented in the form of a kind of FPS dance that puts you in a state of pure zen once you figure out how to make that perfect run through a room full of demonic baddies.

Four years after Doom showed this old franchise could pull off new tricks, Doom Eternal proves that this series is at the forefront of FPS innovation once more. – MB

10. Demon’s Souls

Although initially released in 2009 for the PlayStation 3, Demon’s Souls would help define the next generation of gaming by establishing the Soulslike genre, which has influenced everything from recent Star Wars games to The Legend of Zelda. The “problem” is that the legacy of Demon’s Souls has been sort of eclipsed by the accomplishments of its successors.

That’s the beauty of the remake for the PS5. Aided by the power of the console’s next-gen hardware, developer Bluepoint Games pays homage to one of the most historically significant games of the last 15 years while wisely updating it in ways that show that the foundation of FromSoftware’s breakthrough hit remains arguably the best entry in a genre that isn’t exactly lacking in modern classics.

In a year where finding a next-gen console proved to be more difficult than any Soulslike game, Demon’s Souls remains the best reason to battle the bots at online stores in the hopes of joining gaming’s next generation as soon as possible. – MB

9. Fall Guys: Ultimate Knockout

There were multiple times this year where couped-up players relied heavily on “bean” games to help maintain a human connection. Before Among Us dominated the Twitch streams, it was Mediatonic’s intentionally clumsy and hilarious Fall Guys: Ultimate Knockout that had us competitively raging with our friends. It did so by merging the wildly popular battle royale genre with the inflatable-fueled antics of early ’90s game shows, where dodging swinging hammers and battling giant fruit against 59 others became the norm for a few weeks – all in the pursuit of winning a highly coveted crown.

Needless to say, making Fall Guys free to PS Plus subscribers for a month turned out to be a genius marketing move, urging everyone to hop into the game’s inventive gamut of levels and make a fool of themselves. Much of what sets it apart from other battle royale attempts is its low-skill barrier to entry, and thanks to frequent seasonal updates, new unlockable outfits and fresh mini-games always being added, bumbling to the top of the pack as a colorful bean remains consistent fun. – AP

8. Animal Crossing: New Horizons

It’s not an exaggeration to say that Animal Crossing: New Horizons should be included in history books about the Covid-19 pandemic. Releasing just as lockdowns were being instituted across the globe, New Horizons provided the escapism we so desperately needed while quarantining, attracting not just the usual Nintendo fanbase, but even those who had never played games in the past but were now looking for something to occupy their time at home. Whether we played it with friends or alone, New Horizons provided the routine and distraction that so many of us needed in a world suddenly thrown into chaos.

Of course, it helped that New Horizons is the best Animal Crossing game to date, with tons of new ways to customize your island (and yourself). And as Covid-19 restrictions have stretched much longer than many of us anticipated, New Horizons has kept pace, with Nintendo releasing a steady stream of new fish to catch, fruits to harvest, and events to participate in throughout the year. It may not be the game that everyone wanted, but New Horizons is the game that 2020 needed. – CF

7. Cyberpunk 2077

When Cyberpunk 2077’s legacy is written, there’s no doubt that the opening chapter is going to focus on the bugs, technical shortcomings, and empty promises that have turned what looked to be one of 2020’s guaranteed hits into one of modern gaming’s most debated debuts.

Yet, the reason that this game’s initial issues will likely not ultimately define it is that Cyberpunk 2077 reveals itself to be a special experience whenever you’re able to play it without crashes or bugs ruining your experience. From its stunning side quests that revive one of The Witcher 3’s best elements to its shockingly human narrative, Cyberpunk 2077 regularly showcases the undeniable talent of the individuals who battled internal and external factors to deliver their vision.

Cyberpunk 2077’s technical problems wouldn’t hurt as much as they do if there wasn’t a truly great game at the heart of them that people are begging to be able to play as intended. – MB

6. Final Fantasy VII Remake

The pressure was on for Square Enix from the moment it announced Final Fantasy VII Remake back in 2015. For those who obsessed over the original back in 1997, the prospect of a remake was the stuff dreams were made of, and this year we finally got to relive Cloud, Aerith, Barret, and Tifa’s grand adventure (the first act of it, at least) with fully updated, well, everything. Astonishingly, the remake actually lived up to expectations and delivered not just a faithful update to the original game but a modern RPG that stands as one of its generation’s best regardless of nostalgia.

The key to Square Enix’s success was its approach, which aimed not to duplicate the experience of the original game, but to capture the essence and spirit of it while using modern game design to deliver the story in a way that doesn’t feel retro or rehashed at all. The game looks dazzling by 2020 standards (Midgar never looked better) but doesn’t compromise the integrity of the original designs, and the real-time combat—arguably the biggest departure from the original—is a blast to play.

Time will tell how exactly Square Enix will follow through with the rest of the remake as we enter a new console generation, but in the meantime, they studio has left us with a terrific reimagining of the most celebrated title in the studio’s expansive oeuvre. – BB

5. Assassin’s Creed Valhalla

Ubisoft deserves credit for keeping a franchise like Assassin’s Creed, which is 13 years old at this point, thriving in an industry that is flooded with more open world games now than it ever has been. The series is always competitive in the genre, and Assassin’s Creed Valhalla proves why: it’s as refined as any of its predecessors and delivers a balanced experience with a rich world to explore, tons of strange stories to uncover, and a mash-up milieu that combines the eerie atmosphere of 5th-century England with the otherworldly spectacle of Norse mythology.

No open world game is perfect, and Valhalla certainly has a handful of shortcomings. But it’s a bloody good time to play, and there’s so much to do that there’s no question that you get your money’s worth. Eivor’s quest for glory and domination is also arguably the most cinematic story in the entire AC catalog, with some truly breathtaking cutscenes that rival those found in more linear games that can’t sniff Valhalla’s scope. Some of the more otherworldly moments in the back half of the game are pure, unadulterated, nonsensical fun, and overall, this is one of the best entries in the series. – BB

4. Marvel’s Spider-Man: Miles Morales

Insomniac is one of those studios that you can always rely on to deliver fun, polished games that shine in every category, and Marvel’s Spider-Man: Miles Morales only adds to the team’s sterling reputation. Building on the already brilliant formula the studio created with the original Marvel’s Spider-Man, Miles’s story is one of loss, friendship, identity, and the strength of the Black and Hispanic communities of Harlem.

The side-quel is also one of the best launch titles arguably ever. While it is a cross-gen game, the PS5 version is currently the best showcase of what next-gen gaming is capable of from a visual and performance standpoint. You won’t find a better-looking New York City in any other video game, period, and Insomniac’s outstanding animation work looks insanely good when bolstered by the PS5’s considerable horsepower. Miles plays differently than Peter Parker did in the original game as well, with his Venom Powers giving enemy encounters a new feel and rhythm.

Insomniac outdid itself with an excellent follow-up that would’ve been a forgettable DLC expansion in the hands of a less ambitious studio. But Miles Morales is one of the best modern-day superhero characters ever created, and it’s only right that he get a game that lives up to his greatness. – BB

3. Hades

The popularity of roguelikes has been calmly bubbling up for years now, yet only in 2020 did it truly become mainstream thanks to an ideal balance between gameplay and story as demonstrated by Hades. Players who previously took umbrage with the genre’s nature to wipe out all progress at each run’s end suddenly had a reason to jump back in, now inspired by Zagreus’ various tries to escape hell and overthrow his eponymous father. This alone sees Hades tower over most of its peers in terms of balance, further backed up by rewarding gameplay and a gorgeous comic book art style that makes the well-worn mythological Greek milieu feel fresh.

Developer Supergiant Games proved its penchant for creating flexible mechanical loops in prior titles, and in many ways, Hades feels like a culmination of all those ideas distilled in one neat package. It’s a great example of semi-randomized systems layering perfectly on top of other systems, until players eventually find themselves completing runs using distinct weapons, upgrading persistent abilities and slowly discovering which of the god’s many boons gel best with one another. Hades is always a hellishly good time. – AP

2. Ghost of Tsushima

The concept of honor has never been explored in a game as lyrically and philosophically as it is in Ghost of Tsushima, Sucker Punch’s story-driven samurai epic. Jin Sakai’s grand adventure is both brutal and beautiful, stretching across the grasslands and snowy peaks of the titular island, as he pushes the oppressive Mongol army out of his homeland, all the while wrestling internally with the kind of man, warrior, and leader he ultimately wants to be.

This game is outstanding on so many fronts that it’s difficult to list them all here. Visually, it looks so stunning that anyone who walks past your TV as you play is all but guaranteed to stop and stare for a while. The combat is fast and challenging, the stealth mechanic is on-point, the score is sweeping and sentimental, the character models are incredibly realistic, the online multiplayer mode “Legends” is actually a blast to play…and the list goes on. This poetic, pitch-perfect modern masterpiece is emblematic of the soulful, cinematic storytelling PlayStation Studios is known for, and it’s a wonderful way to send the PS4 off into the sunset. – BB

1. The Last of Us Part II (Also Reader’s Choice)

You can’t even say the name of our 2020 game of the year without sparking numerous debates that often make it nearly impossible to have a productive conversation about the game itself. That makes it that much more tempting to somehow find a kind of middle-ground that will “justify” the game’s lofty position to everyone regardless of where they stand.

The thing about The Last of Us Part 2,though, is that its divisiveness is very much part of the experience. Naughty Dog’s follow-up to arguably its greatest game is a bold attempt to live up to the franchise’s legacy by furthering what came before while trying to find its own way. Much like Ellie herself, The Last of Us Part 2 doesn’t always make the right decisions. Yet, at a time when bigger budgets are seen as an excuse to play it safe, The Last of Us Part 2 impresses through its willingness to present a big, bold, and personal adventure that is often anything but what was expected.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Anyone can generate a little controversy by saying something stupid, offensive, or hurtful. The beauty of The Last of Us Part 2’s controversy is that it stems from a heartfelt attempt to advance the conversation through indie-like passion and big budget production. – MB

The post The Best Games of 2020 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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msbeccieboo · 5 years ago

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Arrow 8x09 Brain Dump

It was...not all bad. I really want to like this. I love Mia, William and FTA. I want to enjoy BS like I did in S7. I want to see Dinah written consistently with any kind of actual character. Well, at least my love for FTA is still intact 😂😂

Mia

Kat was brilliant in this episode. Her leading lady really jumped out 😂😂 Her emotional moments hit the mark, and I think she juggled her post-Crisis new life with her old memories brilliantly.

We opened on her waking up in the Queen mansion(!), with a very yummy Diggle Jr in her bed, only it’s JJ not Connor 😱😱 She’s also surrounded by adorable family photos, showing that Oliver got his wish of her and William growing up together (and confirmation that the Olicity Love Cabin still existed!) Basically, she’s living the best life that Oliver could have wished for her, without him in it, of course 😭

Probably the most notable change in ‘new Mia’ (other than her being infinitely happier and living in a crime-free city) was her social poise. She’s been brought up in Oliver Queen’s old world, and is quite the socialite, only without any of the haughty frivolity that one might expect (I imagine we have Felicity for that 😍). She loves her life and her friends, and she defends them, especially in the face of Laurel, who seemingly does nothing but scoff at her lifestyle for the whole episode 😒 I loved her addressing the press!! That was pure Queen! Maybe the influence of a certain Aunt Thea?

Source: feilcityqueen

More below the cut…

Basically this Mia is smart and loving and happy, and Oliver gave her a warm and otherwise full life, save for finding her true purpose (which is gonna be vigilanteing, of course). So of course BS and Dinah rock up and upend it all 😂 I really liked how they made the returning of Mia’s memories a source of conflict, as well they should. It was so brutal to just return them with no preamble, to destroy what happiness Oliver had given back to her, just because, what? BS couldn’t complete her own fucking mission? (More of that later lol) Then Mia standing up to BS when she went as far as to mock Mia’s new world, just gave me life!!!

Anyway, with her memories restored, and bad guys to track down, of course Mia couldn’t resist her heroic calling and suited up, then proceeded to be the epic badass that we have grown to love.

Source: kathmcnamara

I loved seeing her struggle with her memories returning, and the guilt that they brought with them of not living up to Oliver’s legacy. At the same time, she appreciates what Oliver did for her, that all he wanted for his family and the city was to be safe and happy. She ultimately decides to remain the Green Arrow, taking up the guard of her city in her father’s memory, to protect the new world that he sacrificed himself to create.

Source: felicityqueen

We’d seen she’d developed her ‘street smarts’ in the flash-forwards, so I think she’ll end up bringing these together with her new social skills, and badass moves, and be an unstoppable force!! Hopefully that will include her old FTA team as well, and not just the two feathered ones 🙄

FTA/JJ

God this needed more FTA.

We got a small amount of William, more of JJ, what with him being Mia’s fiance (!!), and little more than fleeting glances of Zoe (!) and Connor. The disrespect!! 😂

William (who even knows his surname in this new life?) continues to hold my whole heart in his hands 😍😍

Source: oliverxfelicity

LOOK AT HIM!!!!💗💗💗

He seems to have been least affected in terms of his character, post-crisis. It’s implied that he’s running Smoak Tech, and that he and Mia grew up together and are basically each others’ ride-or-dies 😭😍😭

I truly hope if the show is picked up, that they increase the William content by a solid 1000% 😂 He brings so much heart and a certain humour and lightness, just like Felicity brought to Arrow, and Ben is such an amazing actor. The new show will need a William. BADLY. He really seems to have his shit together (in the very limited time we have seen him of course 😒), but I’m hoping that that doesn’t lead to Mia keeping her memories from him for long (although remembering who their Dad is, I’m guessing she could take a while 😂😂).

So JJ proposes to Mia at the beginning of the episode!!!! Apparently they are the love of each others lives here. Dig clearly learned from what Connor told him, and steered JJ away from becoming a murdering gangster...YAY! Although it seems that in doing so, our darling boy Connor ran into a few issues of his own 😫😫 It looks like there is no love lost between him and Mia, that he has been in and out of rehab, and is now somewhat of a bad boy 😏😏 But when they first lock eyes there is still definite history and heat there and, just HJJHDFVGDFK 🔥 BACKSTORY IS NEEDED!! Then at the end, JJ has his memories restored by scary-dude-in-cloak (who I was totally hoping would be Dig or Oliver tbh 😂), so I’m super interested to see how he copes with his dual memories!! So now Mia loves JJ, but knows he was evil and killed Zoe, and she hated Connor, but now remembers they had feelings for each other and that he is a beautiful soul, and all the shit is gonna hit the fan!!! I usually hate love triangles, but this is so exciting, with the good boy/bad boy switch up, and then the opposite memories being returned...YAAAAASSSS!! Although I’d like to make it clear that, whilst I’m going to enjoy the drama getting there, I am firmly in the SmoaknHawke end game camp!!

And as excited as I just got, all of this took up just about 5 mins of screen time 😫😫 It reminds me of what Arrow was lacking in its early episodes...heart and hope. They lucked into it with Felicity/Emily, but they have it here, ready and waiting, and are so far not using it.

Kat knows what’s what. This is the show we deserve.

Birds

There was a lot of bird action. Apparently in shaping a perfect future, Oliver saw fit that Mia never met BS or Dinah...this is why we stan 😂😂 Dinah has also seemingly been erased from the history books 😬, waking up after Oliver’s funeral (😒😭) 20 years in the future, so naturally becomes a bohemian, opens a bar and sings a lot. Cool, I’d probably do the same 😂😂 Laurel, it seems, went off to spend time with Sara, and has apparently become a solo time-traveller, trying to stop 2041 from becoming a really bad year. Righto.

Dinah was actually ok in this episode, if not hugely out of character, but that in itself has been inconsistent throughout the show, so here’s hoping that the zen-filled peacemaker that she was in this episode continues! Dinah’s new-found peace and bearability seemingly comes at the cost of Laurel being utterly awful. She rocked up in the future like Billy Big Bollocks with a huge chip on her shoulder, just sneering her way through the episode. She had such bitterness, disdain and anger directed towards Mia (and Dinah, at times) for no apparent reason, when they seemed to have somewhat bonded previously?! She spent the majority of the episode sauntering around looking down on everyone, portraying a bitchy-tomboy type, deeming anything vaguely typically feminine or not hard-moody-’badass’ as beneath her. This is not #girlpower. Fuck off.

Then we have that clusterfuck of a scene at the exhibition 🙈🙈 where BS tries to tell Mia that she used to date her Dad, before quickly correcting herself to “some version of him, anyway”, as if they were one and the same 🙄 Laurel’s continual need to imply that she knows, or has history with our Oliver is infuriating as hell. E2 Oliver died on the Gambit in his early 20s. Even if he was similar in character to E1 Oliver up until then, that person bears no likeness to the man he became. Her past with her ‘Ollie’ is entirely irrelevant to the man that was Mia’s father, who she barely even got to know at all save for a couple of episodes in S8. And not only the implication that she knew him, but then to actually try to trash him as well, to his kid?! All to push her idea that all versions of people are the same (which was refuted when JJ doesn’t even turn out to be behind the Deathstroke mask anyhow)? NO! At least Dinah and Mia were cringing along with us 😂

It’s just astounding, the turnaround they’ve managed with Laurel/BS. They already did the unthinkable in S7 and got a lot of people from this side of the fandom to empathise and warm to her, without pissing off her existing fans. I really did grow to like her in S7 (check my reviews, I still can’t believe it 😂), she was snarky, but not bitchy, and showed some heart and vulnerability. So it’s mind-blowing how they took all that growth and just obliterated it this season, and then even more so in this episode where she is just plain nasty and unlikeable.

I do think, however, that giving BS and Mia a tempestuous relationship from the off was a good idea, cos let’s face it, you can tell there is no love lost between them. But they could have made them clash in a better way than BS just being an arsehole to Mia for most of the episode. My best guess is her anger comes from Mia coming out of Crisis with a life untouched by violence, whilst her earth was still lost? (Was it? I can’t actually remember if E2 came back.) She can’t complete her self-appointed mission on her own and knows she needs Mia’s help to do it?? I don’t know. She had a lot to say about JJ supposedly being a ‘homicidal manic’...pot, kettle much?! She also seemed to find the notion of Mia initially wanting to just appreciate the peaceful life she had been given and not becoming a vigilante reprehensible, but why? BS is the one that needs to atone for past sins. Mia does not.

Stray thoughts

That cliffhanger!!! WHO TOOK OUR WILLIAM?!?!?!

The music was...not good. Especially during the fight scenes. Arrow was always so on-point with its score. I don’t understand how this can be so bad?! I did like hearing Mia’s theme in there, though, that was a nice tie-in the old flash-forwards.

Who is this Kevin that cheated on William? He must be destroyed!😡

Some of that future make-up was really something 😬😬 2040 is all about the severe/dead and unblended looks, apparently. The fashion was fabulous though!

The dialogue in the action scenes was soooo hammy.

Who is the mysterious, villainous “she”???

“Frack you!” and “I’m not interested in joining your Canary club” YAASS MIA 😂

William and Mia’s “pet rock” talk was super cute 😍

Oliver’s statue!! 😭😭😭

Hopes for the future, if series gets picked up:

Increased focus on Mia/FTA. We have such a fresh, interesting, diverse cast, with intertwined back stories ready to go for this show here already, waiting to be used. USE THEM.

A deadly outbreak of avian flu 😂🙊

Failing said outbreak...keep the birds in the background or MAKE THEM LIKEABLE. This is a chance for a clean slate!

I wanna see Papa Dig so bad. David had said we’d get to see 2040 Dig in Arrow, but looks like that isn’t going to happen now, and I’d just love to see how he is. I can also imagine David being entirely done, and not wanting to be a part of this, however, but a cheeky little cameo would be amazing 😂

SmoaknHawke to RISE 🔥🔥🔥

As it stands, I’ll watch if it goes to series, but for how long remains in question. I just know I cannot get on board with the faux feminist “heart/vulnerability/girly is ‘weak’! Let’s be hard/edgy/angry badasses and fight men and show the world we’re strong pow pow pow” narrative that BS in particular, but also the general tone of the show overall, is trying to portray. I really think that if the show is picked up that they should look to see what is working and what is falling flat on its arse. It’s in dire need of more heart and fewer birds imo, but we can have both, if they’d just write them as better people.

Thank you to the beautiful gif-makers 😘 Any uncredited gifs are mine.

💗💗💗

#Arrow 8x09 #Arrow #Arrow spoilers #Mia Smoak Queen #Green Arrow and the canaries #Arrow Season 8 #beccie's brain

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pitiless-achilles-wept · 4 years ago

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How to Endure: Cancer in the Time of Pandemic

[Originally posted March 28, 2020]

Hi all, Welcome to a very special birthday post from me in which I mostly think about what it's like to have cancer in the time of a global pandemic. As a way of topping my last year's celebration--where I was just about to start chemo--this year the world is sheltering in place under quarantine orders as an unprecedented public health disaster unfolds around us. (Sorry if my prediliction for dramatic narratives is in any way responsible for this fact...) I've been trying to work up the energy to post and let you know that I'm doing ok in this time of a global emergency...as ok as anyone I guess. I should say right off the bat that I am not, right now, immunocompromised, although I am at risk for it. We can all hope my system keeps bouncing back as it has done to keep me out of the most vulnerable group. (I do also have lung tumors, so a respiratory infection would automatically come with complications.)

Mostly, I spent a lot of the past two weeks wondering not if but how the pandemic was likely to affect my cancer treatment and I finally have enough information to confirm that, as of now, I'm still able to stay on the study and get chemo as planned this coming Thursday (April 2nd). I had been scheduled to get CT scans on Tuesday, March 31st to assess whether the treatment I started at the end of January has worked well enough for me to continue on the clinical trial. Although I get so many that it has perhaps come to seem routine, "scanxiety" is a very real phenomenon because these are how you learn whether things are going well (or well enough) or whether the disease has "progressed" and you have to regroup and try again with a new treatment plan. It had been since October that I had had a positive scan, with November showing a halting of improvement and December and January documenting the reversal of recovery. So obviously I was anxious and wanted them as soon as possible. Hearing reports of "non-essential" treatments being canceled, my Penn oncologist and I decided to try to move my scans up. After many phone calls and the efforts and good will of a number of doctors and hospital staff I was able to get them on the 23rd in Princeton (avoiding both the drive into Philly and the potential for exposure there). I'm glad we did because I learned yesterday that the treatment has been working fine; not great, but well enough that a) some tumors got somewhat smaller, b) no tumors got bigger, and c) no new metastatic sites were observed. Clinically, that's ruled as "stable disease" b/c in order for it to be a "partial response" you have to have your cancer go down by at least 30%. But reversing the trend of growth is still a win, and perhaps more time will see more results. And crucially, I do not have to investigate a new treatment option or try to change in the midst of what is soon to be the crest of the pandemic wave of cases. It's only relatively lucky, but I will take it! I have also seen reports in the cancer community about people having their chemo canceled as non-essential, which was shocking to me. I wrote last year about feeling like cancer should always be a "red ball" case that gets rocketed up the chain for testing, insurance approval, etc. and being shocked that it just wasn't. I understand that in some cases where a cancer patient is immunosuppressed, even attending a treatment at a hospital may pose greater risk than delaying it because the risk of infection is such a threat. But that is an extraordinary statement to make, amidst a daily barrage of extraordinary statements. Not all the stories were that clear-cut, though, so I was glad to hear from my doctor that as a stage 4 patient my scheduled treatments will not be bumped. I cannot have any visitors (and it's a pretty rough thing to do alone), but I can and will get through this. We all will. Because we all have in us more than we know. *** Shortly after my beloved grandma died (suddenly, from complications during surgery) my dad told me that one of the last things she said to him was that she would be ok because, "I'm a warrior." And she was. From a tiny place in the woods of east Texas, as a teenager she ran her family's store during the Great Depression and cared for a mess of brothers. When my daddy was eight years old, she and my grandfather picked up and moved away from a community where they knew everyone and had for generations to Dallas--an unfamiliar big city--because his younger brother had been born deaf and they wanted to send him to a special school. She founded and ran her own school, an income she supplemented with other jobs while my granddaddy was away walking pipeline for an oil company. When I knew her, late in her life, she had lost her sight but continued devouring books on tape and listening to the clues on "Jeopardy!". I was the first and only grandbaby and I was adored (not to say spoiled). The only times she actually saw me, before she was blind, I was just a few months old, chewing clean laundry in the basket in which someone had deposited me. As I grew up, she would feel my face, my hair, my ever-increasing height (and joke each time that "I'm going to have to saw your legs off!"). She would listen to my voice on Sunday phone calls; do crossword puzzles with me, as I read clues while lounging on her velour sofa; offer a "piece of Hershey" or a stick of spearmint gum from the same blue tin on the table in which she kept her cigarettes. She could still piece quilts by feel, even though she couldn't see the fabric, and advised me on the 1ft patchwork square I made for my doll's bed. She was weakened, exhausted, blind, and often in pain (which she tactfully never mentioned with me around). Except when she changed to a polyester pantsuit for visiting the doctor, she wore carpet slippers and housedress with a pack of Marlboros in the pocket that she lit from a gas burner, leaning on her walker by an ancient stove. No one knew quite how old she was when she died--our best guess is eighty-three--because she was also the kind of Southern lady who told no one her real age. She was a warrior in that, despite all that had happened in her life and all that was happening to her body, she kept on going. She endured.

When I search for inspiration to continue with treatments that make me feel worse than the disease, to fight so hard to save a body that's betraying me, to stay in an increasingly terrifying world that's betraying all of us, I think of her last words. I'm a warrior. I will endure. Believe it or not, you are also and you will too. In our struggles to continue with our lives in the face of monumental uncertainty and paralyzing anxiety, our greatest achievement is to keep on going. We fight (each of us different things) so that we may endure. It is not pleasant. It will reduce you to tears. You will exhaust all your emotional resources. But you will triumph. I have been fighting, existing in crisis mode, for 14 months and that is how I know that you can do it. You must grieve (and allow yourself time for it) for what you have lost, including a sense of safety or normalcy. But as you press on, you will find that inner strength or resiliency. I'm sorry that this is being demanded of you. It is not fair. But that will not change it. You may grieve, cry, fight, and struggle but, ultimately, you will accept that your way forward, your treatment, is to endure. I've reflected a lot on social media about how living with stage 4 cancer accidentally prepared me for the experience of the pandemic. I wrote a coda to an essay that will be published--likely this May--about the "Body as Data." Since the coda itself will probably change by then, the situating evolving as rapidly as it is, I thought I would share it here. Thank you for being with me and providing that community that has been the saving grace of treatment. Love, Bex *** As of writing this essay, it’s been 14 months since my diagnosis. I have tried three different treatments, two of which were clinical trials, one of which I am still enrolled in. It is approaching my thirty-sixth birthday [it's actually today - March 29th] and everyone is sheltering in place because of the coronavirus. I have lived more than a year now tolerating the same kind of existential uncertainty and fear of an alien invader in the body that the world as a whole is now experiencing. I have played my own doctor, watching my body for signs that a treatment is working, or that it is not, in much the same way. I have tried to anticipate what will happen if I become immunocompromised (as I currently am not, but am at risk for) and given up many of the pleasures that made my life better before (traveling, going out with friends) in the name of my health. I have offered my body up as data to research scientists with the goal of furthering not just my own treatment but the survival prospects of future patients. I did not know that throughout this year I was in training for a time when we would all of necessity be regarded as bodies with the potential to produce valuable data about the spread and effects of COVID-19. We are starved for numbers, for data on infections and recoveries and for statistical models that may relieve us of the uncertainty we feel about the future. I cannot provide that. But I can tell you to be cautious readers of data and statistics that speak with any pretense to authority right now, even though I crave them too. Cancer is invisible and so are viruses. This particular virus can inhabit the body but produce no symptom and live for days on surfaces. It may be in us. It may be in those we love. We are in the middle of the data. We are the data. Susan Sontag wrote in Illness as Metaphor that “Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place” (3). A pandemic transcends borders but does not do away with the kingdom of the sick. As someone already resident, I can say to you: welcome. The hardest thing about being here is the grief for what we have lost, including a sense of normalcy. The best thing, though, is what we may find: community in a time of crisis.

#my life as a cancer patient #clinical trials #covid and cancer #quarantine life #mbc #metastatic breast cancer #stage 4 #my family

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shesthewindandsea · 5 years ago

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if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby (and my babe would have me)

Summary: It's snowing tonight in Soho. The air is frigid and the ground is wet. Inside a bookshop, there's a demon experiencing the greatest crisis in known human history, but the angel sitting with him thinks he may be able to help.

Beginning Notes: So I’m starting to pick up on a pattern. Seems like whenever I wanna write something this bastard is always at the center of everything and really, what am I gonna do about that? Plug him apparently. @ineffablefool Go read this idiot’s stuff, it’s kind of good I guess I’m totally joking it’s all fantastic but yall should know that by now if you’re here. And!! @scribblemakes go look at all his art right now!!! It’s absolutely fantastic and beautiful and honestly freckled Crowley is one of my favorite things in the world which is why that’s basically what half this fic is about. The other half is just Aziraphale being chubby and getting kisses everywhere. This is literally the softest thing I have ever and will ever write in my entire existence. I have nowhere to go but down.

Oh and the title is from a Hozier song, yeah we’re all really surprised I know. The song is called Work Song and I recommend you listen to this version just because it’s fantastic

Outside the doors of the bookshop, the evening air is still and quiet. Snow is falling silently from the clouds passing slowly in front of the moon. It’s quite a spectacle to all the children watching from their bedroom windows, eyelids heavy and blankets tucked up to their chins. All eyes, though laden with sleep, are ashine with a kind of innocent joy that can only come from a child. They’ll fall asleep thinking about a day off from school spent making snow angels and throwing snowballs and causing a general ruckus as they run in-between strangers on the sidewalk. They’ll certainly be disappointed when the morning comes and the world outside is barren of any snow, the lingering warmth in the stonework from the overcast sun that afternoon melting the snow once it touched the ground. Tears will, no doubt, be shed over the lack of highly anticipated snowman building material. This is, quite possibly, the biggest upset in known human history.

Inside the bookshop, however, a much different story is being told. The cold winter air pushes up from the floorboards, through the gap in the front doors, through the crack in a window frame. Even with the sharp cut of the frigid air filtering into the close quarters of the backroom, it didn’t have the chance to make the room any colder than Aziraphale willed it to be. The space heater glowing with a warm orange light in the corner may have also helped the process along and replaced the silence with a gentle hum and the occasional sputter.*

*Aziraphale had initially started out with an ornate fireplace at the back of the room. He was rather proud of his craftsmanship and was excited to show off his recent update to Crowley once he arrived. That was, until his demon burst through the door with a slam and in a deranged panic, raving about the pungent smell of smoke and wallpaper burning, tears streaming down his cheeks and I couldn’t find you. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly attached to the fireplace, anyhow. A space heater will do the job just as well, dear, no need to fret.

Read on AO3!

The air smells faintly of old parchment paper, book binding glue, and leather. The scent never seems to fade and Crowley suspects Aziraphale has something to do with that as well. Most humans find it somewhat distasteful and often find themselves making a rather startled face upon entering the shop followed immediately by an amusing and unattractive nose crinkle.

That doesn’t always drive them away, though, and Crowley becomes further amused while Aziraphale would get rather frumpy, forming the most ridiculous and petulant pout he’d ever seen. The angel would make sure to use extra binding glue those days, making the smell all the more pungent.

It makes Crowley want to kiss him. So sometimes, he does. He’ll lean over the front of Aziraphale’s workstation, tap the angel on the shoulder, and when he looks up, Crowley will try to snag a kiss from the angel’s lips. Occasionally, he’ll miss and land on his forehead or cheek, but nonetheless, Crowley is satisfied.

Other times he’ll let Aziraphale brood loudly about the shop. He’ll put a little more force into his step and his double chin will become just a bit more pronounced as he tips his head down to keep his glare directed toward the floor. The emotions flicker across his face clearly displaying the war going on inside his angel’s brain, torn between politeness and some drastic steps that would “gently” encourage any potential customers quickly back out the door and onto the street.

You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here and all that. Thank you and have a nice day.

Crowley would lean next to the till and watch, just basking in the presence of his grumpy angel. He used to pretend like he wasn’t watching. Like every minute he spent around Aziraphale wasn’t worth every second of secrecy and denial. His glasses did a lot of that work for him then. But now, things were different and Crowley didn’t want to waste a moment of their time together pretending anything.

Moonlight lurks in the gaps of the shutters and gently attempts to creep across the floor hoping to reach the back of the old, lumpy settee. The moonlight hopes it can linger in the white curls of the angel currently residing there before the demon in his lap notices and gets jealous. Let it never be said that the moonlight is frightened of Crowley’s jealous indignation — though it will admit it’s become quite familiar with being on the receiving side of Crowley’s hissing and it knows well what it’s like to face the demon head on.

The biggest upset in human history inside the bookshop? Well, it’s just that Crowley couldn’t press his face any closer into Aziraphale’s belly. Not without knitting their skin together, fusing cell by cell, permanently pressing his cheek into the grooves of each individual stretch mark kissing the angel’s stomach, thighs, arms.

If only, he laments. If only he could remain here forever, his nose pushing into the available skin between Aziraphale’s waistband and where his shirt has come untucked, waistcoat and coat discarded long ago.

If he could just bask until the end of time in the skin-on-skin contact, the soothing scrape of Aziraphale’s perfectly manicured nails gliding through his hair and along his scalp while the angel’s plush thighs pillow Crowley’s head and neck. He longs to kiss the plump flesh there hidden beneath Aziraphaple’s sensible trousers. In the pitch black of the room, save for the warm glow of the heater and the errant beam of moonlight stretching towards them, (as if he wouldn’t notice it) he can’t imagine moving a single muscle for the next century..

If only.

Rather than linger on this particular tragedy, Crowley focuses his energy on appreciating exactly what he has in front of him right now, which is to say, absolute perfection. Even knowing he really has nowhere left to go, Crowley pushes his nose into the fat of Aziraphale’s stomach, groaning at the all warmth and love stored there. His arms snake tighter around his angel, squeezing. His fingers just barely brush each other behind Aziraphale’s back, forcing him to sit forward just a bit.

Aziraphale makes a noise that Crowley thinks is supposed to be something like annoyance and scolding, but it ends up sounding more fond to him than anything else.

“Really now, dear. Your nose is poking me and it’s quite unpleasant. You’re going to have to release me.” In response, Crowley chooses not to move a single inch and grumbles something low into Aziraphale’s tummy. The angel can’t help but shake with laughter at the sensation. Crowley’s face curls up in an impossibly doting grin and though Aziraphale can’t see the full extent of Crowley’s adoration, he can feel it pressed into his body and somewhere low in his rib cage where he is positively thrumming with unadulterated affection.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale speaks around his smile. One hand remains in Crowley’s hair while the other skirts over his shoulders and under the collar of his shirt to rest his palm on Crowley’s bare back. He can feel the curve of Crowley’s spine and the way he moves with each inhale and exhale. He can feel Crowley’s heartbeat in his hands.

The demon pulls back just enough to speak.

“I said,” Crowley drawls, “‘S impossible. Can’t move.” Each word comes out a hot puff of air against Aziraphale’s skin and it sends a shiver through his entire body.

“Is that so?”

“Mm. It is. Wouldn’t lie to you, would I, angel?”

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale teases, “wily and cunning serpent that you are, I never know when to trust you.”

“Shall I prove it to you then? I’m more than willing.” Crowley rolls away from Aziraphale’s soft middle just enough to stare up at the angel. His eyes glow like fireflies in the dim light and Aziraphale can imagine being swallowed by them, losing himself there for as long as it takes Crowley to blink. The hand in Crowley’s hair trails down the side of his face, caressing a sharp cheekbone and soothing his thumb over wrinkles in the corner of Crowley’s eye.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale whispers suddenly. He didn’t mean to say them, those words, but before he could stop and think, they were rushing up his throat, dancing across his tongue, sung from his lips like a prayer. Well, maybe not a prayer. Perhaps more like a song.

That happens sometimes, where he just can’t help himself. Crowley really is the most beautiful being Aziraphale has ever had the fortune to happen upon. And the words just come so naturally. The need to show Crowley how much he loves him, how much he positively adores him, fills him up like a helium balloon.

The guilt consumes him, sometimes, when Crowley isn’t looking, when he isn’t around to remind him. All that wasted time and all the hurt he had caused. He knew and yet everything felt so hopeless. It felt like vines weaving throughout the gaps in his rib cage, his heart and lungs constricted, struggling to beat and inflate.

And then Crowley would be there, standing in front of Aziraphale with hands on shoulders, grounding him, asking if he was alright. Or he’d look up from across the room, abandoning whatever he was distracted with and meet Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley would always just know from the look in his angel’s eyes, from the tight lines he held in his face.

And then Crowley would just look at him and Aziraphale would look back. And oh the poetry he could wax about everything he sees in Crowley’s eyes. His brilliant, splendid eyes saying the most brilliant and splendid things. I see you and I understand and I love you and perhaps, most importantly, I forgave you a long time ago. It’s okay. You never have to ask.

Crowley’s giving him that look right now, saying all the right things without saying them. His lips twist up in a soft smile that lights up his entire face and Aziraphale feels like he’s about to float away with all the love in his chest lifting him up.

Crowley rolls back onto his side, his face cupped by Aziraphale’s hand as it tenderly traces the edge of his mark. It stays there even as he turns toward Aziraphale’s round, soft belly and pushes the untucked clothing further up Aziraphale’s body. It rests precariously on the shelf of his stomach, exposing him to the musty air of the bookshop and Crowley’s sweeping gaze. His eyes are glazed over, half-lidded leaving Aziraphale waiting with bated breath.

Crowley has made it very clear to Aziraphale how much he appreciates the soft roundness of his angel’s corporation. Always kissing the swell of his cheeks and the folds in his neck, grabbing at his sides and hips. Aziraphale really hadn’t felt any inclinations either which way about the size and shape of his corporation over the last six thousand years or so; though, he had become rather sentimental after having it for so long. The same way one grows attached to a well-loved sweater. But being on the receiving end of all of Crowley’s reverent touches and constant praise certainly helped all those feelings along. And if it made Aziraphale feel more wanted and desirable, well no harm no foul.

Crowley releases his hold from around Aziraphale for a moment to grab hold of the hand covering his face, lacing their fingers together and slotting his bony fingers between the spaces of Aziraphale’s chubbier ones. His lips ghost over the generous give of the angel’s gut, starting from underside up the gentle slope until he reaches the edge of Aziraphale’s rucked up shirt. Then he makes his way across and then diagonal and eventually just anywhere he feels deserves more attention, slowly applying more pressure, lingering longer over each stretch of skin.

“You’re beautiful too, angel, so bloody beautiful. Wish you could see you the way I do,” he hums into Aziraphale’s tummy and sides and chest like he’s trying to tattoo the words there and Aziraphale is so overwhelmed by the brushing of lips against his bare skin that he can’t stop the long groan that escapes him. The urge to tug Crowley up, lose his hands in the long messy curls and just kiss every single freckle painted on the demon’s cheeks and forehead, wrists and knuckles, shoulders and back is overpowering.

“Oh, my darling. My dear sweet boy. My love.” Aziraphale could go on for ages. He’d call Crowley every endearment he’d ever read, heard and wasted time thinking up until he was red in the face. Until the galaxy was swallowed by darkness and the stars went supernova and the universe imploded. Until there was absolutely no question about the depth of Aziraphale’s love for him.

He would if he could, if he thought that they didn’t have time. He’d spend every moment making sure Crowley knew what he felt before they ran out. But that’s not the case. They have forever, infinity times infinity, and so he has the opportunity to take Crowley’s hand and led him into it. He doesn’t need to push him in and hope he knows how to swim.

Maybe he would try anyway if he felt he had any control over the irresistible need, the want, to pull Crowley’s lithe, lean body flush with his own. But as it turns out, Aziraphale is easily tempted and when it comes to his demon, he truly doesn’t have that control. He very quickly finds himself hauling Crowley up off his lap and pressing their bodies so close together that they could create a vacuum.

Their lips slot together and if the whole world didn’t already fall away every second they were together, it would now. All the tiny variations — the nuances of each individual moment, of every individual kiss — spark across the connected skin like neurons firing through the brain. Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s knees knocking into his hips on either side. He can feel Crowley’s eyelashes brushing against the skin just under his eyes. He feels that long skinny nose that poked him in the stomach earlier smushed against his cheek and he hears the sure rhythm of Crowley’s heady breathing echoing in his head.

Both pairs of hands wander — touching and testing patches of naked skin and soothing over wrinkled shirts, clutching handfuls of curls — and lips are soon to follow. Aziraphale keeps the promise he made to himself and thoroughly enjoys pecking at the hundreds of constellations of freckles he’s left behind, his kisses. Each spot overlaid becomes a shade darker, shines brighter against the white background. When he’s gone over every one he can reach, he begins to create new ones — one under Crowley’s chin, in the center of his cupid’s bow, just to the right of his Adam’s Apple — and they bloom like flowers, petals pushing apart and ready to greet the sun.

Crowley waits for Aziraphale to finish indulging himself while happily occupying himself with the skin connecting his angel’s neck to his shoulder — kissing, nipping, soothing over the marks with his tongue, rinse and repeat — by working around and under the collar of his shirt. His hands skirt up outside of his angel’s thighs and creep over his hips in of search the abundant flesh waiting for him at his angel’s waist. Once he feels the lack of clothing separating his hands from Aziraphale, he latches on, squeezing in random intervals. There’s just something so satisfying about the way it crowds his spread palms and fills the emptiness between his fingers. Something that makes him think, Mine. This is finally mine.

“Had your fill of me yet, angel?” Crowley teases lightly as Aziraphale finally sits back and looks Crowley in the eyes. His hands rub up and down Crowley’s back under his shirt.

“Not in a million years, my love.” Aziraphale places a final kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose. The demon’s face scrunches up a bit in an attempt to cover up an utterly besotted grin, but he can’t quite manage.

“Got a reputation to uphold, you know.” Crowley says very seriously before wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and laying his head against his shoulder.

“I do know. Quite important, this reputation business. Perhaps we ought to refrain from such activities in the future. For the sake of your reputation, of course.” The audible smirk in Aziraphale’s tone is unbearable.

“Bastard. Don’t even joke about that,” Crowley growls, worming his way around his angel’s shirt to carve out his own section of bare shoulder, smacking it with a kiss which makes Aziraphale giggle at the sound and sensation.

“Well, then. I think we ought to head up to bed, don’t you? We’ve done quite enough sitting in the dark. I think I’d rather enjoy a bit of light reading.” Before Crowley can come up with a response, Aziraphale is standing up from the couch and lifting Crowley with him. He decides a contented hum and lazily wrapping his legs around his angel’s hips will do nicely instead.

Aziraphale’s socked feet make a muted thumping noise as he ascends the stairs to the flat above the shop. Soon enough, Aziraphale is using Crowley’s back to push the bedroom door open causing the demon to murmur some mild irritation and vague threat. He’s quite comfortable resting up against Aziraphale as he’s carried around though, much too comfortable to raise a real fuss.

That is, until he’s tossed onto their bed like a sack of potatoes, something like a oof! pushed out of him. He’s left cold on top of the covers while Aziraphale pretends to putter around the room, far too smug for his own good.

And so Crowley remains there, cold and uncovered, purely out of spite.

After changing into his pajamas, (a hideous set of mis-matching tartan, or so Crowley seemed inclined to voice on multiple occasions. Aziraphale finds them both stylish and comfortable) Aziraphale stands at the edge of the bed, tutting at Crowley’s behavior.

“Come now, Crowley. Get changed and budge over.” Crowley fixes him with a glare that lasts all of five seconds before he’s snapping his fingers — clothes changed and eyeliner removed — and rolls over to his side of the bed. He pulls down the covers on his side, flopping down onto his pillow, hair a fiery blaze behind him. Aziraphale does likewise and scoots into his spot, wiggling around to get comfortable. Crowley watches on with unfiltered glee.

He continues to watch his angel closely as he clicks on the lamp beside him and peels back the cover of some hundred-year-old Dickinson collection, his reading glasses having appeared on the bridge of his nose at one point or another. Eventually, Aziraphale looks over at Crowley, feeling his eyes on him.

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “I love you with all your moldy books and useless glasses and your ridiculous lovely body. I love all of it.” Aziraphale smiles brilliantly and the room is suddenly much brighter. Crowley could swear celestial light is leaking from Aziraphale’s pores and shining from behind his eyes.

“And I love you with your reckless driving and your useless glasses and your pointy nose, knees and toes, elbows and ankles. I love every last piece of you, mitting.” (This was one of those phrases that Aziraphale had sat on for quite a while before he finally had a chance to put it to use.)

Aziraphale lifts an arm for Crowley and he’s immediately curled up against the angel’s side, arms stretching across the long expansive of the angel’s belly while leaving space for the book to balance against Aziraphale’s chest. Legs twist together hidden beneath the blankets and toes wriggle about in cozy socks. Crowley rubs his leg up against Aziraphale’s, pushing up the pant legs of both their pajama bottoms.

It’s not long before Crowley falls asleep still tucked under Aziraphale’s arm and eventually, the angel decides it would be best to get some sleep himself. He places the book on top of his nightstand, not bothering to mark the page, and miracles the lights out. Gingerly, he moves his arm out from around Crowley and instead, manages to sneak his palm under Crowley’s head while the other arm pulls Crowley in closer, tucking his head beneath Aziraphale’s chin. He allows himself a brief moment of appreciation, brushing his fingertips over the flat plane of Crowley back.

“Until the morning,” he whispers into Crowley’s hair. He finally starts to drift off while watching the shadow of each snowflake tumble across the top of the duvet.

The now silent world within the bookshop remains so until daybreak, the night’s snow a puddle on the sidewalk and the flakes’ shadows replaced with a combination of orange, red, and gold light.

Until a red-headed demon slowly wakes in the early morning light to the soft, vulnerable skin of an angel’s throat pressing into his cheek. He’ll lay there for a long time, basking in the morning light and the happiness he feels in that moment with the knowledge that he’ll have that feeling many, many times in the distant, and not so distant, future.

Then he’ll clamber out of bed, trying not to wake the sleeping angel, to start making breakfast in a dusty, outdated kitchen.

Until the angel will wake to find a vacant spot next to him, still warm. He too will get up from bed, though with far more coordination and less flailing of limbs. He’ll enter the kitchen and wrap his arms around the demon’s waist and inquire as to just what it is the demon is making.

“Nothing good with this kitchen, angel. Some bloody hedonist you are. Can’t even maintain a proper kitchen to make your own food.”

“Now, now, if you’re going to be that way, maybe I’ll just go to dinner without you tonight.” The demon will grumble and mumble but refrains from any further comment. The angel will force the demon to turn his head and offer a kiss as payment for the meal that will no doubt turn out very delicious. He accepts, of course.

Until that night when it starts snowing as the two walk home from dinner, the temperature dropping to temperatures much too cold for a fussy angel and his serpent. So the night ends much the same way it did previously: with the soft glow of the space heater in the corner where there once was a fireplace and curious moonbeams scampering across the floor.

It ends with an angel and a demon so absolutely besides themselves with kindness and hope and love that they forgot what the cold feels like.

#holy shit its almost four im so tired #this was supposed to be short what the hell #also for real go look at freckled crowley by scribblemakes that version of crowley will forever be drilled into me #and you all know how much i love ineffablefool hes the fuckin best dont get me started or ill be here all night #if youre not reading his stuff already i dont know what youre doing honestly #anyway yeah im gonna go to bed ill reblog this whenever i wake up #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #chubby aziraphale #crowley has freckles #ineffable husbands fanfic

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cloudyyoonji · 5 years ago

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Close As Strangers.

Hwang Hyunjin x Reader OR Lee Minho x Reader

REQUESTED BY ANON

Summary; the nervous flutters and heartbeat in your chest made you even more nervous around your two best friends. Who would you turn too? Lee Minho, or Hwang Hyunjin?

Genre: angsty, fluff!!

______________________________

You and Hyunjin had been inseparable for all of your lives.

Befriending each other upon the first meeting, you spent every waking moment together, no matter what you were doing. It was almost like a silent pact between you two.

Minho came within the second phases of your lives, your meeting of the band member through Hyunjin. You three were like the three musketeers, inseparable.

Even now, some few years after meeting Minho, you three were as close as ever, despite the unruly distance that divides you. Over, things shifted on your end, whether it was for the better or the worse, you weren’t quite sure yet.

Things couldn’t get more complicated... right?

Over the Christmas period, Hyunjin came to visit in classic Hyunjin style; unannounced and unsuspecting.

It came as a tap on your shoulder, the male holding up a skincare product in his hands.

“Sorry Miss, can you tell me about this product?”

As soon as he’d taken off his hat, you stepped back, hands over your mouth in shock.

He was here. After a whole year and a half. He was here.

Skincare item tossed aside the boy invited you into his embrace, eyes like half crescent moons as he smiles, patting your back in a rhythmic fashion to calm you. However it does the opposite, your heart beating a little more wildly in your chest.

In classy Hyunjin style, he’d gotten you time off from work so you could spend time together, with a little charm of course.

So when your shift finally finished, he whisks you away for the next two weeks, attached by the hip as you two go on regular coffee runs in the first week, and Seoul sightseeing in the second.

Minho also becomes attached to your hip in that second week, the three of you together at every moment of the day.

Perhaps it was the fact you hadn’t seen them in so long, or maybe it was that you missed them too much, but something had changed.

Your heartbeat would speed up at a single brush of their hands over yours, or when they would say something that seemed like obvious flirting to any other person. Any person but you.

So now you’re here on the bathroom floor, phone pressed to your ear as a neon coloured 1:03 am rings through the bathroom louder than light itself.

“I just feel so nervous when they’re around.”

Your forehead is pressed into creases, fingers almost white as they curl around the phone.

“That’s because you like them, more than a friend.”

Her response only whitens your fingers, your eyes squeezing shut at the mention of the word “like”.

“Well shit,” you whisper, your breathing somewhat heavy now, tears leaking from your watery eyes. “What the hell am I meant to do about that?”

She only laughs sleepily at your crisis, her voice in monotone signalling she’s absolutely exhausted.

“I don’t know hun, that’s up to you now. But I’m going to get some sleep because unlike yourself I have to work tomorrow. So please, get some sleep.”

You roll your eyes with her formalities, bidding her some “thanks” and “goodnights” before the phone cuts off.

The silence embraces you with a sharp grin, your emotions that were bubbling inside your stomach finally coming to the surface in hot tears and muffled sobs.

This would completely ruin your friendship even break your hearts collectively. How could you possibly pick one? How would you leave them both? With no explanation perhaps? Go M.I.A?

A quiet rap at the door stops your sobs, heart dropping into your stomach as you listen for any sign that perhaps you’d been hearing things.

But there it is again, loud and clear in the bathroom walls.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you’re up from your crouched position and unlocking the door, opening it only a smidge so the person on the other side couldn’t see how dishevelled you truly were.

Even in the darkness of 1 in the morning, you could clearly make out Chan’s blond hair, curled and a little messy.

One look at you and you’re ushered down the hall, the boys' grip on your hand both strong but surprisingly soft too. He takes you out of the dorms, towards his studio where, once sitting, he shoves a warm cup of milk into your hands.

Just where had that come from?

You hadn’t noticed the coffee machine quite yet, too caught up in your own thoughts as you stared down at this simply mug of milk.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You look up at the older male, who’s leaning against the desk, his own mug of what you could presume was coffee in his hands. But his gaze is on you; worrying and concerned.

“Chan,” you sigh, looking back down at the mug. “I just don’t know what to even say.”

One of your hands makes its way to your hair, head leaning to one side as your elbow finds the arm of the chair. You slightly pull at the root, hoping that in some odd way it will smooth your headache.

“I think I like Hyunjin more than a friend.” You confess, eyes closed as you do so.

“Okay,” the boy replies, “and that’s a bad thing?”

You nod, looking down to avoid his eyes as your lips part to speak.

“I think I also like Minho, Chan.”

The boys sigh, but you’re not looking up at him, rather the mug in your lap, which you see is slightly chipped, worn away with years of use.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice is hoarse with emotion, roughened as tears burn into your cheeks.

Chan takes the cup from you, setting it on the bench as he embraces your shaking body.

He whispers something soothing, hands rubbing your shoulders.

Your head falls into the crevice of his shoulder, body numb with emotion.

Thoughts eat at your brain, like a tidal wave on the sand.

“I can’t choose, not between them.” You cry, shaking your head slightly.

“Hey,” his voice is low, laced with consolidation. “Whatever happens, whatever you choose to do, they’re not going to be angry with you, love.”

You pull back from his shoulder, eyes puffy and swelling with the pain of your situation.

“I just don’t know how to do this Chan.”

Your voice comes out quiet, cracked, and horribly ragged at the seams.

The boy holds your shoulders tightly.

“Do whatever you think is right Y/N, because this is up to you, and only you entirely. Trust that you will make the right decision. Have faith in yourself.”

It’s only on your last day in Seoul everything seems to finally click within your fractured thoughts.

You have to confess, you know you do.

So that’s exactly what you’re going to do.

Shooting the waitress a small smile as she sets the iced latte in front of you, you fiddle with the takeaway cup, partially avoiding the gaze of the two boys who sit in front of you, and somehow trying to grasp your miscellaneous thoughts into a worthy speech that explained the complexity of your situation.

“Listen,” you begin, swirling the coffee around with the straw, observing how it mixes with the milk in calm swirls.

“I need to tell you both something.”

They both peer at you, concerned.

“You know you can tell us anything. We are friends after all.” Minho tells you, brows creasing.

You sigh, finally looking up, hands placed on the table now.

“And that’s the problem.”

“Problem?” Hyunjin raises his brows, surprised. “Do you not want to be friends with us anymore?”

You shake your head, a hand running through your hair.

“Of course I want to be friends with you two,” you stress, “but this is a little more complicated than that... can I just talk? Vent?”

They both nod, condescending smiles enhancing their already perfect features.

You take a deep breath, eyes closing for just a moment of tranquillity.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but it seems that I have developed feelings... for the both of you. I am here, confessing to you in this cafe on our last day together for god knows how long because I am so confused.”

You begin fiddling with the straw again, avoiding eye contact with the two males who you know are looking at you so intensely.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t pick between you both. You’re both so close to my heart that hurting one of you makes me feel physically sick. Now I don’t know if either of you replicates these feeling, and I’m not asking you too... but I’m telling you all this because I can’t hide this any longer. You have no idea what it’s been like for the past few weeks, with this weighing concept just sitting on my chest. Please understand, but I just can’t pick either of you.”

“It’s okay.”

Hyunjins voice is low, somehow reassuring too.

“I think we both understand. I get that you’re not going to choose one because you're trying to spare the other’s feelings, but Y/N, this wouldn’t change anything. We’d still all be friends.” Minho chimes in, nodding with an agreeing Hyunjin.

You let a small smile grace your features.

“Thank you for saying that. But, I think it’s best if we just part ways for a few months anyway... just until I can sort out these feelings.”

So the weeks pass by, each one more drawling the last.

Their names weigh on your mind, but your heart yearns for the one you truly connect with, the one who is there no matter what time, place, or situation it was.

You thought about calling, texting even.

But these type of things were best-handled face to face, even you knew that.

Your job had handled things for you as soon as you’d started working after your 2 weeks off.

Somehow the streaming flow of customers had brought you the tranquillity you’d been searching for within the maze of your emotions.

Even after work, the loud chatter that surrounded the mall, amplified in the small space, brung you a strange calmness.

Then you saw it, the familiar head of messy brown hair that you could not recognize. The boy you knew so well, you could never forget him.

The boy whose features made your heart speed up; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his eyes, the chocolate colouring of his eyes, the mole rested under one eye.

With a wave of confidence, you’re reaching for your phone, fingers already hovering over the number.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

You’re watching as the boy only a few meters in front of you reaches for his phone, looking down at the number before swiping on it.

“Y/N?”

You’re silent, watching as the boy finally turns around, searching for something. Someone. You.

Eyes finally meeting with his, you stare back, helpless gazing into his eyes that seem to hold the night sky.

“Hyunjin, I choose you.”

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, GABE! You’ve been accepted for the role of ARIEL. Admin Julie: Imagine my delight and surprise to see an Ariel application in the inbox after having them on the masterlist for such a long time, desperately hoping, wringing my hands --- and here they are! Gabe, your application blew me away. Your ability to pin down their mysticism while also humanizing their loneliness and their distance from their own identity was something I really connected with in a way that had me incredibly emotional. I cannot wait to see where you take them, and am eager to watch as you go! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Gabe

Age | 29

Preferred Pronouns | He/They

Activity Level | I can reply at least once a day, excluding weekends.

Timezone | EST (GMT -5)

Triggers | My triggers are already covered in the blacklist.

How did you find the rp? | Alexei told me about it.

Current/Past RP Accounts | None

IN CHARACTER

Character | Alva Fae - Ariel

What drew you to this character? | In The Tempest, Ariel is rescued from entrapment by Prospero, who then presses him into service. If Ariel wants to be free, he has to serve. However, he is not a weak creature, as he can command gales and has “fearful power”. Alva’s history, thus far, only goes through the phases of getting out of “entrapment” ie the arranged marriage, unhealthy filial dynamic and subsequent use and abuse by the men they choose to be with. Their rescue by Mona, although seemingly altruistic, still has the tethers of servitude to it. Alva has a place because they are useful.

This sort of dynamic and backstory resonates with me. Over the years I’ve had several characters with similar issues, and I find that I enjoy their arcs; the meek becoming bold, the downtrodden becoming frightfully strong. Sometimes these characters can get lost in their own flaws, becoming weaker, desperately clinging to their savior, doing anything they can to stay alive and to feel alive. For Alva, I feel like if they survive the current gang war in Verona, that they could become a stronger, more powerful force than they are currently.

I can see how they learned from their mistakes, and how they could fall into the same traps. They strongly desire a life of freedom, a life that is their own, but they’ve never actually had to be in charge of themself. They ran away from a highly structured environment right toward a group where they could have a place, from structure to structure, from patriarchal figure to patriarchal figure. The only difference in their current situation is that they were offered to join a matriarchal figure’s structured environment, and they’re jaded enough to know to keep some secrets in case they have to run away yet again.

They desire freedom, but I think it actually scares them. Having no one to fall back on, having no one around them to guide them, no one to consult, having to just go out there and make decisions; it’s not something he really thinks hard on. If he was in charge, what would he actually do?

Who is Alva. Even Alva doesn’t know. They’ve done some things they aren’t proud of, but those things don’t truly define them. They were once a forgettable son, then a runaway, then a bedwarmer, now a lounge singer. They are an information gatherer, but that’s a job, that’s not Alva. It took them a while to get used to social media, having had a rather basic phone, and an interest in pleasing those around them. Now that they have a little time to themself, they can see how people their age act, how they see themselves, and they wonder if any of this can inform the person they are supposed to be. But is it worth it to be the kind of young adult that is growing up these days? They don’t know, in this life they are just trying to survive.

Also, growing up in a religious environment gives them a complicated relationship with God and the tenets of their religion. While they might renounce their beliefs, or their participation, they now have all this niche knowledge specific to their childhood religion. I wasn’t raised Mennonite, but I dealt with this at younger ages, having never really fallen into believing, but being raised by and around believers. It’s complicated when the people around you believe in something that doesn’t seem to have mercy or love for someone like you, even if you aren’t open about who you are. It makes you somewhat cynical, as you learn to read the behaviors of those around you and see what they choose to believe and practice, and what they conveniently ignore. This can influence what Alva chooses to do, how they interact with religion and how they interact with others.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?|

Wisdom of the Naive

Naivete is what led Alva away from their constrained position in New York to a wandering soul in Europe. They believed that they could run away and that the people who took them in would keep them safe and would allow them to be their true self. As was evident, they were only a ragdoll to the leader, and they ran away again. Alva thought a name change would change themself, but they still ended up in bed after bed, with men who didn’t deserve them. After being rescued by Mona, have they learned not to be too trusting? Yes, perhaps. However, they’re still so young and there’s still hope buried inside of them. They are still looking for something. Alva won’t believe the sweet words of a suitor, but what of a friend? They don’t exactly have the life experience necessary to navigate the dark underbelly of Verona. They could befriend the wrong type, and end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would take every bit of wisdom they’ve learned, all the wariness they’ve adopted to keep from being the victim yet again. They are good at coaxing information out of others, and have realized their ability to draw others in. Their experience with people has been one of use, thus Alva knows they have to remain useful, but they yearn for freedom. If they can connect with the right people, they could build a network which would free them from servitude and carry them over the minefield that is Verona under the Montagues and Capulets.

Killer Consequences

Alva had to escape a bad situation by killing a man, and it weighed on their soul. While they would do anything to live, they don’t want to ever have to take another life again. This may or may not be possible with the way Verona is rapidly becoming a war zone. Being neutral won’t save them from random violence. Knowing that, they also know that they can and will protect themself if they have to.

If they’ve learned anything from the relations between the Montagues and the Capulets, its that killing has far-reaching repercussions. Alva is still looking over their shoulder from what happened in Spain. While nothing has yet to reach them, that doesn’t mean nothing ever will. They have to guard their secrets closely, no matter how friendly they may get with Verona’s people.

One slip-up and they can find themselves drowning in dark waters.

No Place Like Home

Alva is terribly lonely. Despite feeling so constrained in New York, their family was always around. It was a comfort to know that there were several people they could hide behind, or blend into. They feel exposed in Verona, with only the lounge affording them the business that was like his home.

Alone in their room at night, they feel a terrible weight crushing them. That weight led them from bed to bed and it takes everything in them not to succumb to it again. Nightmares wait behind their eyes, ready to torment them. They know, in their heart, that going home is not an option. They are probably disowned for running away, and that guilt; the guilt of leaving their mother; threatens to steal their breath. It’s hard to stay focused, but it gets easier if they stay in the present, working towards a future only they can see.

If someone were to offer them the building blocks of their future, and not just a safe haven to dart in and out of, they could very well realign themself. He’s left one mother behind, and he could do it again, it’s his nature to change for his own benefit.

Identity Crisis

Alva, although born and raised in New York, doesn’t have the authentic New York experience. Nor do they have more than a taste of their Vietnamese culture. They haven’t remained too long in any one place in Europe to really absorb the “citizen of the world” mentality. Their only strong tether is the religion they were raised into, and they recognize that the tenets were used to shape them into what their father thought they should be.

Having such a complicated set of identities, they often feel like no one among others. Having to keep their own secrets to avoid consequences, they also feel inauthentic when socializing with others. This feeling of being nobody has been with them since they were a child, and it was a defense mechanism to keep from being the object of their father’s ire.

They have an identity right now, as Mona’s lounge singer, but that’s just a hat they wear on their workdays. They are trying to craft their own identity, browsing social media for inspiration, and trying to keep themselves well-informed.

They desire to really, truly, be someone and this feeling of being no one often leads them toward people with strong personalities, for good or ill.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Sure, you can’t always walk the line of neutrality and remain safe.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“The Cathedral,” they say, the answer coming off their lips in a rush. It’s embarrassing how easily the answer– the true answer –is gotten from them. They smile, an expression that comes with practiced ease; a slight lift of the corners of their mouth, a softening of their gaze. “The acoustics are just lovely, and the architecture… simply amazing.” Which is not the full truth. The church means more to them than the way sound travels around its marvelous walls. There is the comfort of being within it, the way it dwarfs everything with effortless grandeur. Everything is small compared to the church, everything is simple, nothing but worship matters within its walls, and it doesn’t care who you are. If they listened closely, if they closed their eyes and stood very still, they could even feel the presence of God. But this lounge singer isn’t known very well for being religious, and so they sigh and tilt their head into their hand, curling their fingers against their cheek. “It is the most beautiful building in all the city, don’t you think?”

What does your typical day look like?

They chuckle and lean back a little, crossing their legs under the table. “Oh you’d be jealous.” They make a show of thinking about their particular routine, touching a finger to their lips, eyes tilted up to the ceiling. Wake up sweaty from a nightmare, bathe, pray, practice their vocals, dress, go out to eat, linger to observe others, browse social media, eat again, window shop, maybe actually shop, go back to the Dark Lady, get ready for work, perform, coax secrets out of others, that’s their routine. “I work as a lounge singer, right? Well, work doesn’t start until the building opens, so I get to sleep in. Sometimes I go out with friends, sometimes I stay in and entertain myself. Then it’s singing, socializing, and going to bed when I tire of it all.” They make it seem like they make their own hours, but they know they have to be in the Dark Lady before she opens, and they have to be picture perfect before the first patron walks through the doors. They only leave when they have enough information to justify leaving the lounge. It’s not a mandate, but the last thing they want to be accused of is taking advantage of Mona’s kindness. If they can’t offer her up whispers, then all they are is a singer, and singers aren’t that hard to come by.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Several things come to mind, all of them decisions they thought they made. Running away, running away again, getting involved with this or that man, killing a man to run away again. “I think there are many little errors I’ve made, but perhaps the worst of them all was leaving my family with no way of contacting me.” It’s a lie, but Alva sounds so remorseful. They regret it all, but leaving their mother still makes them weep on their darkest day. They should have taken her with them, but would she have even gone? With seven other children to look after, would she have chosen to leave with them? Their mother’s welfare often keeps them up at night. How is she? How is she doing? Would things be different now if they’d gone to her, proposed the idea of leaving? Would she have come? Would she have? The frown on their face is small, and their brow is furrowed. They are making a concentrated effort not to emote as strongly as they feel. “But in order to live in my dream city and sing for a living, I had no choice but to go. Perhaps I should have had a proper farewell.” They sigh, a sad puff of breath. Then they reach for the carafe on the table and pour two drinks. Gone is the wilted lily, and a wide, playful smile spreads across their face. “Let’s drink to that, what do you say?”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Their brows lift, an expression of surprise. “I don’t think anything too difficult has ever been asked of me.” They gesture, as though there is a raised stage on their left. “Perhaps singing in front of important clientele? It does make me more nervous. I want to make a good impression, you see.” Nothing exists outside of the microphone when they sing, but there have been difficult secrets they’ve had to learn. They’ve had to decide between keeping secrets or telling them, and the consequences often keep him paralyzed on the subject. “I have it pretty good here, all things considered.” And while not a harsh end to the conversation, their words have a finality to them. That is all that will be said on that subject.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Ah, time to play a vapid young adult. This is done easily, as they’ve experienced the love of gossip and vapid words from people their age on social media. They know far too much about what’s going on between the Capulets and the Montagues. So many have died, so many dangerous plots enacted, territories lost and gained. Their biggest fear is the Montagues and Capulets choosing the Dark Lady as yet another site for their feud. However, instead of concern, or even a minute amount of trepidation, they lean forward, lowering their voice, necessitating their guest lean forward in turn. “Things are so dangerous, are they not? You can’t have been in Verona long without hearing what has happened?” It’s like they are fishing for information they do not yet have. “Like with Alvise Vernon, or that crazy day in October? They say that you couldn’t walk the streets without seeing ghosts or apparitions. Then there was that day in November, I stayed inside, but the noise. I heard that someone blew up the bridge.” And tried to kill Cosimo, but they only have to know the silly fluff-headed things that seem important to the youth of this age. All these young ones care about is clout and money and looking smart, but not actually being smart. Besides, straying to the far more political side of the youth is asking for it, here in Verona. When it seems like they won’t get anything out of their guest, they lean back with a pout. “Ah well, it’s all very dangerous, I only know bits, but I know enough to stay inside if things seem a little off.”

In Character Para Sample:

Alva sat on the edge of their bed, their head resting heavy between their hands. Sweat beaded on their bare skin, rapidly cooling clammy skin. No sound but their breaths, no light save the neon glow of their clock; it was two in the morning. Their eyes were open; too afraid to close them and replay the lurid tableau they’d woken up from.

There had been a man with a black hole for a face, but he recognized those hands; the gold pinky ring with a scorpion motif and jet inlay, the expertly manicured nails, long fingers and wide hands. He had been a big man, the Spaniard, and the hole in his face… Alva had put it there. Those hands had reached for them, grabbed their wrists with a grip like iron. That awful black-hole yawned in front of them and just before the Spaniard leaned toward them, displaying the gore of the inside of his head, Alva woke.

They could hear the beat of their pulse, feel it shake their body with its strength. “God,” they whispered, pausing to lick the salt from their lips. “God forgive me.” There would be no lengthy plea tonight, no monologue for the Lord to listen to. Alva could barely put their thoughts together, let alone a paragraph of poetic prayer to a deity they were sure was consumed with busier things.

For a half hour they sat, paralyzed by paranoia, unable to move for fear of small noises, creaks and groans. Finally, too cold to ignore their discomfort, they reached down and pulled the sheets around their shoulders. Standing was an exercise; a long, drawn-out stretch that left Alva wanting to lie down again.

But, they couldn’t go back to sleep.

Sighing, they padded to the kitchen, the sheets gliding across the floor behind them. Eyes half-closed from weariness, heart settling in their chest, they reached laboriously for the lightswitch. The light would be blinding, but it was a well-known and oft-recieved pain. Their hand swatted the wall, missing twice before snagging the switch.

Alva’s eyes narrowed to slits in the brightness of the kitchen and they grudgingly draped the blankets over a chair so they could move about the kitchen unhindered. Everything was too loud, but it was the small routines that kept him from coming undone. They put two slices of bread in the toaster and put water on to boil, lurking by the sink, watching, waiting. Their gaze was fixed on nothing, and they drifted from the sink to the chair, to wrap themself up.

Alva’s mother used to do this, sit in the wee hours of the morning watching water boil. The coffee was for their father, the toast too, but they liked to imagine that their mother sometimes did this for herself. One time, they’d wandered into the kitchen and she was there, whispering a prayer they couldn’t hear. She’d heard them, stopped her whispering and got up to usher them back to bed, but not before they’d seen the tears in her eyes. What had she been crying about?

The toast made them jump, coming out of the toaster so suddenly. Annoyed, they stared at it as they waited for their heart to settle again. Alva let the sheets go, rising from their cocoon of warmth and took a plate down from the cabinet. They fished their toast out with their forefinger and thumb, only burning themselves a little. The butter was too cold to spread, so they cut two thick squares and let it melt atop the bread while they went to tend the water, switching the burner off.

Coffee was a luxury, one they were still meaning to indulge with some kind of fancy machine. As it was, they made do with instant; a capital sin in Italy, but who’d catch them? They stared dully into the pot as they stirred in the coffee, watching as it turned black. Black like– they tore their gaze from the pot and reached up to grab a mug from a hook.

This one was yellow, bought in a street fair. It was in the shape of a bear, and always made them smile. Even now, they could feel a tug at the corners of their lips as they looked into the yellow bear’s face. They poured themselves half a mug and set it on the counter, taking the can of sweetened condensed milk from the fridge. The poor thing was on its last use, and Alva was on their last can. The bread was down to the ends, and there was only a tablespoon of butter left.

Honestly, when had they forgotten to do a little shopping? The inside of their fridge was sad.

Alva leaned on the counter top, pouring the last bit of condensed milk into the coffee, watching as it swirled into the deep, and idly reached for a spoon from the drawer beneath. They poured and stirred until their coffee was an orangey brown, until all they wanted was a sweet sip and a bite of crispy toast.

They tossed the can into the recycling after washing it out, and adorned themselves with their blanket, arranging it so they could carry a plate and a mug without becoming a tragedy of spilled breakfast and twisted sheets.

When they settled, their breakfast on their nightstand, curled comfortably in their bed, it was three in the morning. Oh well.

Extras: I was wondering if, perhaps, Alva could have an anonymous online persona. Perhaps they use that to gather even more information than they would talking to people in the lounge. Although having had to learn social media, he’s become pretty fluent in it, and can comb through social media to gain bits and pieces of important news.

Vietnamese Food Guide, as I think he might be very into “home cooking” being a runaway and all.

#accepted #accepted: ariel #sorry for the delay my loves!

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